by Lara Swann
I’ve never understood the idea of friends with benefits before, but if this is what that is…then god damn, count me in.
He shares some of his concerns for Maya and the cupcake store, and tells me a little about what it was like living in Los Angeles before they moved here - big, impersonal and soulless, apparently, although he admits he was too busy with Maya to explore it fully - though he still avoids talking too much about his past. Having heard some of it, I can understand that. I’m the same, too - I might tell him little bits about my relationship with Tyson and the frustration of living in the same town as your ex, but really, it’s not worth thinking about too much.
I’m much more interested in talking about the latest out-of-the-way place I want to visit, or events in nearby States that I think Behind The Times should cover…and more specifically send me to. It’s a little strange to talk about those sorts of hopes and dreams, random ideas that might pop into my head that I can just voice without having to think through in detail, but it’s nice too. Whatever I say, I know he’s got my back.
Not that he doesn’t tease me about some of the wacky things I come up with.
“I’m starting to feel surprised you ever came back from that month away, you know.” He says, rolling toward me in bed, one hand running over the bare skin of my side as we lie face-to-face like that, lazily recovering from round one of tonight.
Maya is sleeping over at Mark and Jenny’s, so we’re making the most of it with our own little sleepover. It’s something we haven’t been able to do often…though, now that I think about it, Maya’s sleepovers are starting to increase in frequency. I’m not sure whether that’s Liam’s doing, or Mark’s, and if I think about it too much I start to wonder just how much my brother has picked up on. Hopefully not too much. For all our illicit activities, Liam and I have been pretty good at keeping this just between us. It helps that we’re next door neighbors that way.
“I think my family were too.” I say, smirking slightly as I lean in to kiss him again, one hand wandering back down his body. “But, you know, I do have to find a way to feed myself. Europe is expensive.”
I’m not quite ready for more, but there’s still part of me that aches to touch him anyway, enjoying that closeness.
“You could work your way around the States, you know. Have you ever considered something like that?”
“Yeah. All the time.” I say, with feeling. It’s one of my go-to daydreams when things get a little too same-y here in Ashton.
He laughs. “So why don’t you?”
“It’s not really the money.” I admit, shrugging. “Truth is, there’s too much tying me to Ashton to really leave, or to stay away for too long.”
“Even after your break up?” He asks, his fingers tracing around my breasts in a way that makes me shiver a little. It’s too hot to be under many of the covers or touching too much, but we have one leg twined together and our hands trace idle patterns on each others’ skin as we talk. “You’re far too much of a free spirit to be truly tied down to anything, Kelsey. I think Maya still secretly believes you’re a fairy, you know.”
“Still?” I ask, laughing again.
Some of the things I’ve heard from him that she’s said are just totally adorable.
“Still.” He confirms, with a glance heavenward that makes me smile even more. I don’t know why I find the exasperated parent thing quite so endearing, but he does it perfectly.
“But no…” I continue, with a wry smile. “As it turns out, the kids have pinned me down better than any man ever could have. I thought the same, you know - that after Tyson, I might travel the world forever - but my nieces and nephews brought me back pretty quickly.”
“Ahh, I know that feeling.” He says. “How old is the youngest? Little Kieran - one or two years, right? So…guess it’s just another seventeen years or so, and then you’ll be free to go off on an epic adventure.”
“You’re counting?”
“Of course. I’ve got ten years left before I’m free to do whatever I like. Thirteen if you count being around during the college years.” He grins, and I love the way it lights up his face. “I promise you, that’s a number every parent knows.”
He may tease about it, but I already know he’s going to be devastated when he doesn’t have Maya around anymore, or if she gets old enough that spending time with her Daddy isn’t so cool anymore. Hopefully that doesn’t happen - or at least, only for a few tumultuous teenage years.
“Well, seventeen doesn’t work anyway.” I point out. “I’m pretty sure Naomi will be pregnant soon enough - and from the way she looks at Elizabeth’s little ones, I’m not sure she’s going to be content with one or two. This is going to go on pretty much forever.”
I make it dramatic and he groans exaggeratedly.
“Oh god, then you really are screwed.” He teases. “Stuck in a small town where nothing ever happens for the rest of your life…how are you ever going to cope?”
I laugh, sticking out my tongue at him. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me want to be playful like this, but he just makes me feel light and giddy inside sometimes. It’s just fun.
“Aww, it’s not so bad.” I reassure him. “And besides, maybe some things do happen around here, after all.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, nothing much.” I say lightly. “Just that I might be working on something big for once.”
“Something big, hmm?” He asks. “You’re just going to leave it at that…won’t tell me anything more?”
“In due course.” I grin at him. “If it comes to anything.”
He’s the only one I’ve even hinted to about this project - but unlike the rest of the town, it feels safe with him. Partly because - as well as he’s starting to get to know people here - he’s still an outsider. If he does end up knowing a little about it, he’s the least likely person to jump in to start defending the town and the Mayor, or to dismiss the whole thing. But also partly because I know he won’t push for more - I can say a little and it will stay that way.
It’s nice just to be able to do that - it eases some of the heavy weight in my chest and stops the size and secrecy of it all from overwhelming me. It turns it back into something manageable - and even makes it exciting all over again, to think I’m actually working on something that matters. However it turns out, this last month and a half has felt important at least.
“Hmm…” He murmurs, his expression heating as he gives me a long, considering look before rolling me under him. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to find another way to get it out of you.”
I grin up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck as I draw him down to me.
That sounds like a lot of fun.
“You can try.” I whisper in his ear, my body coming to life as I encourage him.
“Or maybe…maybe I should just give you something else big to work on.” He continues, the heated murmur getting more dangerous as he positions himself against my core, his hand coming down to stroke over my breast, fingers teasing my nipple and making me moan.
“Oh…ohhh…” I breathe. “Yes. Yes, do that.”
He laughs, leaning down to claim my mouth as we get back to what’s really important right now.
* * *
“Can I borrow some cupcakes?”
Liam raises an eyebrow at me from where he’s butt naked in his kitchen the next morning, with only an apron hiding all the manly goodness underneath. I don’t exactly want it covering the front, but daaamn does it outline his butt absolutely perfectly—enough that I almost groan in disappointment when he turns to face me, that gorgeous ass resting against the counter.
I’m pretty sure he has to go and pick up Maya soon - that was the reason he gave for finally insisting we had to get out of bed, anyway - but he really isn’t making timekeeping easy with the no clothes thing he likes to have going on while his daughter isn’t around.
“Are you going to give them back?”
“Umm…no.”
He folds his arms over his chest and tucks one ankle behind the other leg. That just draws my eyes straight to his crotch - and the very obvious tent in the apron. He doesn’t seem the slightest ashamed about that, but it makes me smirk anyway as I eye it up. Apparently I’m not the only one disappointed that we’re supposed to be sensible this morning.
“I don’t know about that…wasn’t borrowing exactly the word you used about my toothpaste the other day? The one that then mysteriously went missing and I found in your bathroom this morning?”
He laughs, and it lights up his whole face as he stalks toward me, drawing me in for another kiss. It’s incredibly distracting and enough that I probably would have forgotten all about the cupcake request by the end of it - far too focused on the hard shaft that’s very obviously pressing against me - if he didn’t come back to it himself.
“Okay, that’s fair.” He says, laughter still in his voice. “Which cupcakes would you like?”
He walks over to the glass cake stands he has to one side of his kitchen and glances back at me. He always has some experimental flavors in his house, as well as leftovers from the day before - or, since I’m apparently really lucky today, the ones he just baked to take into the store.
I pick out six of those, deliberately ignoring the way his eyebrows rise further as I choose the flavors.
“Aaand…do you have any of those boxes from the store here too? That we could put them in?”
“Maybe…” He says, moving toward one of the drawers before pulling one out and assembling it. “I didn’t realize this was going to deprive me of a hard-earned sale.”
“I’m just trying to avoid going all the way into town to get them.” I grin at him. “I can pay you if you like.”
He waves that off, but doesn’t hide the curious glance he gives me. “What do you want them for?”
“Well…what do you think most people want cupcakes for?” I tease, deliberately avoiding the question.
“You’re not going to eat them.” He says nonchalantly. “These aren’t your flavors - too plain.”
The idea that he knows my cupcake preferences makes me feel strangely warm inside. Of course, that’s pretty much what he does, but still, I like that he’s right about it.
The cupcakes I like are the crazy flavors, the weird experimentations that Liam claims he’ll never be able to sell and Maya occasionally convinces him otherwise - those are the ones I would have picked for myself.
“So, are you going to tell me who they’re for?” He asks, almost handing me the cupcakes.
“No.” I say, easily enough. “But I can promise it’s for a good cause.”
He shakes his head at me, but hands them over anyway.
I blow him a kiss and turn to leave the house before he can distract me anymore with what’s so clearly on display. My favorite calf-length green skirt flaring around me as I do and I hear him muttering as I wave goodbye.
“A good cause…”
I close the door behind me with a grin on my face as I think about it, nervous anticipation bubbling inside me.
After our conversation last night, I’ve got a renewed rush of energy and interest in finding out what’s really going on around here and making some real progress on this investigation. It feels like I’ve stalled for a while - no doubt partly because I’ve been quite distracted by other things - but also because those other things felt an awful lot easier than the only remaining lead I can think of.
Visiting Margaret.
But somehow talking to Liam fills me with possibilities and ideas for how everything could go right, and so I’ve finally managed to work myself up to this - and I’m determined to just do it before my courage can fail me again.
I decide to walk, even though the Mayor’s house is thirty minutes away, just to give me the chance to figure out what I’m going to say when I get there. As the sun gets higher and the heat of the day starts to bear down on me, though, I start to wonder whether the cupcake frosting is going to be quite as intact as I was expecting when I arrive.
I check the drive and roads around me as I walk up to the large manor style building, but I don’t see Ken’s car, and I take a few deep breaths as I approach the house, my finger shaking slightly from adrenaline as I press the buzzer. I try to calm that down, reminding myself this is just a simple, totally understandable visit.
I don’t know quite how I’m going to ask the questions I want to, but even if I can’t do that maybe I can get a sense of things, at least.
It takes a while before the speaker crackles, and every moment feels like it drags on for an age.
“Ken isn’t here.” The distorted voice says simply, and I can’t make out the tone through the intercom, but it surprises me yet again how…much older than Margaret it sounds. If I didn’t know better, I would think this was an elderly relative visiting.
“I came to see you, Margaret. It’s Kelsey - Hannah and Reynold’s daughter.”
There’s a long silence, and I wonder whether I’m going to get a response at all when she finally replies.
“I’m not…I don’t want any visitors.”
Hearing that saddens me enough to take me out of my single-minded focus on what I’m trying to do here. It hurts to know that one of our own - the Mayor’s wife, no less - is so insistent on pushing away the help and support we all wish we could give her.
“That’s okay, I just…I brought you some cupcakes.” I offer, genuinely meaning it as the excuse I’d come up with for visiting gets overshadowed by the sudden need to reach out. “There’s a new cupcake store in town - it’s really good and I wasn’t sure if you’d been yet, so I brought you some cupcakes.”
I hold them out to the camera so that she can see from wherever she is inside.
A shorter pause this time. “Thank you, Kelsey, it’s…very kind of you to think of me. Okay, come in, but I can’t promise…”
I immediately feel guilty at that. If it hadn’t been for this investigation, would I have thought of her? The uncomfortable knot in my stomach tells me the answer to that.
Would anyone? Would she ever have gotten some of Liam’s cupcakes? Ken at least would have brought her a few, surely…
“Don’t worry - if you’re not feeling well, I don’t have to stay.” I reassure her. “I can always just leave them with you.”
“Okay. I’m in the sitting room.”
The door clicks open and the crackling on the intercom dies away. I take another deep breath as I enter, feeling decidedly more uncomfortable than when I woke up with a rush of adrenaline and this idea.
Just try. See what happens.
I find the sitting room easily enough, though I haven’t been here for years. The house doesn’t look like I remember it, either - the beautifully decorated rooms are still all here, but…the care that went into them seems to have fallen away. The place is more dusty than I would have thought and as I poke my head into different rooms looking for the sitting room, it seems like half of them aren’t even used.
The whole house gives off a disused, slightly worn feel, and I have to smooth away the frown as I enter the sitting room. Surely someone comes and cleans it for them, now that Margaret can’t do it? Surely someone comes here to look after her, while her husband is busy with town business all hours of the day?
I’ve never thought about it before - it’s not my place to stick my nose into other peoples’ business - but for the first time, I wonder. She has a daughter, too - Emily - doesn’t she worry about her mother, all alone here?
The more I think about it, the more it just all feels…off…even if I take away my own suspicions, which is hard to do these days.
“Kelsey.” Margaret looks up from where she’s sitting in her wheelchair by the window, her voice warmer than I was expecting.
I smile at her, even as my stomach twists at just how…old she looks. Frail. It’s not just the wheelchair - it’s the b
lanket draped over her knees and around her shoulders. She seems almost emaciated, slightly shrunken - totally the opposite of what I expected. If anything, not going out and without regular activity, I would have expected her to have put on a bit of weight.
“It’s good to see you again, Margaret.” I say, meaning it. “It feels like it’s been a long time.”
It has been a long time. I know that much.
She nods, looking drawn and sad. “I know. I’m not…up to much these days.”
I swallow slightly, not wanting her to see my emotion when really it’s her that has to live with all this.
“I’m sorry.” I offer, knowing it’s not really good enough. “If there’s anything I can do—or any of us—”
“You brought me the cupcakes.” She interrupts, giving me a half-smile. “You have done something.”
She says it almost like she wants to reassure me about that, and it makes my stomach flip a little more. I take the cue though, walking forward and opening the box to show her.
“They’re good cupcakes.” I say, falling back on something easy to enthuse about as I describe the different flavors.
“They look…lovely.” She smiles at me and I set them down on the table next to her, taking the chair on the other side and perching on the edge, looking up at her as she hesitates over them.
“How about…I make you some coffee, and you can try one?” I suggest, trying to keep it as low-pressure as I can.
The way her face lights up, just briefly, makes me glad I did.
“That would be…wonderful. And…you’ll stay? Have one with me?”
“Of course.” I say. “If you’d like me to.”
She hesitates again, but then nods. “Yes…yes, I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll be right back, then.”
I find the kitchen by myself - one of the few parts of the house that looks like it sees regular use - and it doesn’t take long to make coffee and find a tray, some plates and cutlery to bring back up to Margaret.
She’s back to looking out the window when I step into the room, and I pause there to look at her, the picture she makes seeming for a moment so very sad - before she notices me and turns the wheelchair back around.