by Ella James
Doesn’t matter. I don’t need to talk to his ass. Leah asks about him when we get lunch at the Mexican place, and I tell her I don’t know.
“The kids like to call him when I’m in the shower,” I say, dipping a tortilla chip in salsa.
Leah studies her nails, painted purple. “I know you’re lying about that night, Buggie. I have known you since we were three.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t mean that you’re a lie detector.”
She rolls her eyes before popping a cheesy chip into her mouth. “Does so.” She stuffs her face for just a bit before dabbing her lips with a napkin. “You know,” she says from behind it, “since you won’t tell me what happened, I’ve just gotta assume that you got down and dirty. Sixty-nine and all that kind of thing.”
It’s my eyes that betray me. When I try to make a neutral face, I tend to bug my eyes out just a little, and that’s what happens at our booth right at that moment.
Leah shrieks, and in about one second, two waiters coming rushing around the corner to check on us.
“We’re okay. We’re fine,” she assures them. When they walk away, she shrieks again.
“I hate you.”
“You didn’t!” She says it on a gasp, as if I just told her we ate George the pig.
“I didn’t.” I poke at my food, feeling defensive.
“What did you do?” She laughs.
I sigh. “God. Nothing.”
“Don’t be a liar, Buggie.”
I cover my face with my hands, letting out a big sigh. “Fine, okay? We did. We messed around.”
“The night he stayed? After the kegger?”
“Yes.” I peek out at her from in between my fingers.
“What happened? Did he take advantage of your compromised state?” She waggles her brows, and I cover my eyes again.
And then I tell her. “It was me…who went for him. It was pent-up rage and loathing.”
Like Burke himself, Leah thinks that’s just freaking hilarious.
“Don’t laugh,” I order. “This is a known thing. He was made hotter because he’s such a dick.”
“And his actual dick?” Her eyes are alight.
“Shut up, Leah.”
“Oh, c’mon! You know you want to tell me.”
“I just…felt it,” I whisper. I hold a napkin over my red face and whisper, “As opposed to seeing it. But it was perfectly acceptable. In fact, I give it five stars.”
“Five out of five, or five stars out of ten?”
“Out of five.” I lower the napkin so she can see my eye roll. “You know, like on Amazon.”
She nods, popping another cheese-slathered tortilla chip into her mouth. “So?”
“So?” I echo.
“Now I need the context, dumbass.”
“What context?”
“Like…your feelings?” She rolls her eyes, as if she really does think I’m a moron.
“I don’t have feelings. About him.”
Her mouth blooms into a big grin. “You’ve got it worse than I knew.”
“What would they be—these special feelings? I mean…he’s just a guy I know. Like any guy.”
“He’s one of your babies’ only accessible relatives on their daddy’s side,” she points out.
I smile at how she called them my babies.
“Do you think Sutt would mind?” I muse. Leah knows me so well that she understands the question.
“That you kind of think of them as yours now?” She smiles sadly, shaking her head. “She would love that more than anything, Bug. You know that.”
Our food arrives. I can barely look at the waitress, as if she knows what we’ve been talking about.
“I know,” I say after she goes. “It’s so weird, the way it’s sad and happy at the same time.”
Leah nods, cutting a piece of enchilada with her fork. “I’m sure it must be so weird. But like…good weird?”
“Yeah.” I blow my breath out. “I think that’s why I find it so strange. Because my feelings about it are mostly good. And not sad. And isn’t that…disloyal to her or something?”
“What, you mean like when you think of them growing up with you as their guardian, it makes you happy?”
I nod, and she grins. “That’s nothing but amazing, chica. That’s why she picked you. Because you’ve had a while to sit with it—a while to mom them—and it makes you happy. Truly happy. I know you would tell me if you weren’t.”
I nod. I would tell Leah. “I love having them at my house. I feel happier. I really do. They’re fun, and so cute and smart. I think I just feel so sad that Sutton’s missing out.”
“Did you decide that she’d go early?”
I frown, not understanding what she means.
“Did you? Like, was her death your choice?”
“No,” I say, aghast.
“Then don’t feel sorry, June. If you start to feel guilty or sorry for her, just don’t. Because that part was not your choice. What you’re doing is honoring her legacy, and raising up her babies right. As your babies. Margot taking gymnastics and Oliver in karate…that would make her so damn happy. Driving them to Georgetown to take piano on Saturdays…we know that would make her happy.”
“Yeah, well, they were taking lessons back at home.”
“In San Francisco,” she corrects. “You realize they will grow up with Heat Springs as home. And they will be just fine for it. If they turn out to be little budding rocket scientists, we’ll drive to Albany for school for them once they hit high school, or even middle school. All of us will help you do it. I don’t care what Snobby Pants said, smart kids are smart kids. They will not be held back by a small town. Small towns are enriching. Their tribe is bigger here than it was there, can’t you just feel it?”
I nod. It’s true the town has taken Oliver and Margot under its wing. It’s been good to see. The kids are thriving. That’s my honest assessment.
“And don’t forget Dr. Weber.”
I nod. I’ve been driving the kids to talk with Dr. Weber on Thursday afternoons. She’s our friend Madilyn’s uncle’s new-ish wife, and she works in Albany. I talked to her a few times after Mom passed, and now the kids are talking to her about their stuff.
“I think that’s been helping them. She wants to drop it back in a few weeks to once a month unless I think they’re having trouble.”
“See?” She grins. “You’re so amazing, Buggie. I knew you could do this. When you got the call, I started sending up my prayers, but I knew you could. You’re made for stuff like this.”
“For stuff like what?” I smile at my own drawl, which is pronounced because I’ve been up late the last two nights doing some planting logistics.
“For picking up the pieces. Gluing all the broken stuff together. You’re real good at that. You know you are, too.”
“I just try my best.”
“Your best is always good.”
I look down at my plate, pushing some rice onto my fork.
U always been June who saves the day?
I clench my jaw. He doesn’t really know me, and he’s never going to. He lives in San Francisco and I live here. And anyway, it’s not like that between us. It’s just pent-up…what did I say? Pent up loathing.
“I hope he’ll stay away from here for a good, long while,” I murmur.
Leah laughs. “What does that mean?”
Oh shit. I shake my head. Guess I voiced that thought out loud.
Chapter 20
June
We fall into a routine. I’m a creature of habit, and I take my shower every night around seven o’clock, just after dinner and our reading time. As soon as I close the bathroom door, Oliver calls Burke, and I can hear the rise and fall of the kids’ sweet little voices as they talk to him.
Once, I’m pretty sure I hear Margot talk about my bath robe—how it’s silky. Another night, they tell him how I shut my fingers in the car door as we hauled the groceries in that afternoon. I don’t know what he says. I tell my
self I don’t care. When he texts asking how my fingers are, I reply: Just fine, thank you for asking.
It takes a few minutes, but my Southern manners override my common sense.
I hope you’re well yourself, I text.
Just fine. :)
I’m glad to see he’s decided that he’ll act appropriate. And so will I. We’re the aunt and uncle—and not the couple kind.
About a week after that exchange, Margot falls from the jungle gym at school and has to get a little butterfly bandage on her forehead where she hit it on the bar. She wants to FaceTime Burke from the car when we get done with Dr. Keller, before we leave the parking lot.
I set the call up for her even though it’s early afternoon by San Francisco time.
He answers on the third ring.
“Hey there, princess.”
“Look!” Her eyes well as she points to the white tape. “I hurt my head.”
“Oh no…what happened to it?”
She tells him the whole long saga, and I start to drive back toward the school, where we’ve still got to pick up Oliver at three. I’m zoned out, trying to focus on the road, where it’s just started raining, when I hear her say, “my birthday.”
Right. Both of Sutton’s kids have birthdays in the month of May. Oliver’s is May 4 and Margot’s is May 29.
“Are you coming to our party?” she asks Burke.
“Well I don’t know. When is it going to be?”
“We’ll have it when you’re coming. You can pick what day!”
And just like that…the gorgeous villain I don’t trust myself to be around has plans to come back for a little visit.
BURKE
“I’m sure.” I nod, my scruff scratching the phone’s screen. I tilt it away from my cheek. “Yeah.” It comes out sounding gruffer than I meant, so I try to sound chipper as I add, “I liked the photos of the staging.”
I lean against the column beside the rows of leather seats outside my airline terminal as the woman rambles, trying to change my mind about dropping by to see how she’s transformed the house I’m selling. I shut my eyes and rub my forehead, wishing she somehow knew what she was asking. Even though I’m hella grateful that she doesn’t.
“I’m sure it’s great,” I say again. “In any event, I’m flying out right now for something in Atlanta, so I’ll have to trust you. The pictures don’t lie. Your team did a nice job.”
I rub my eyes more as she babbles. Some people just don’t know when to end a conversation.
“Yes,” I tell her. “The realtor—you and Becky know each other— She should get in touch with you today. And thank you again, Sally.”
People start to get up from their seats and line up at the terminal. I end the call in time to join them.
I hate to leave the office with so much going on right now—the app is at a vital stage, where we’ve got to develop a few things in a small time window to move forward without spending too much—but I will, for Oliver and Margot. I can only be gone two days, so I’m flying out now—at six o’clock on a Friday—and will fly back on a red-eye Sunday night.
I’ll work the whole flight, which should be easy enough in first class, and when I land, June’s brother Shawn is picking me up. I didn’t ask him to; he texted and offered. Told me I can borrow his Jeep when I’m in town. Nice dude. Seems like everyone in June’s family is more friendly than her, but I think I’m starting to see through her prickly act.
One of my objectives while I’m there this time is to learn more about her. If her dad’s not a fucking bastard, why does she distrust men so much? What happened to her?
I glance down at my rolling carry-on and then make one more quick call to confirm delivery of Oliver and Margot’s birthday gift.
Then, as I walk onto the plane, I call June.
“Hey,” she says, sounding surprised and hesitant. “You calling to talk to the little minions?”
“Actually, I called for you.”
“Oh did you?”
“I did. I wanted to ask you about their birthday present.” Please say yes. If she doesn’t, I’ll have to call the whole thing off and come up with something else.
“Let me guess, two penguins to stash in the bath tub? Just a little ice required,” she says drolly.
I snort. “Nah. But you’re warm with that answer.”
“Oh Lord above, just tell me.”
I smile. “Okay…so I want to buy an above-ground pool. I already did, and they’re planning to set it up early tomorrow morning. If you approve.”
“A what?”
Her incredulity makes me grin. “You know…an above-ground pool. The round ones with the ladder on the side? It would require some maintenance, but I hired someone from the company to come and clean it during summers. I’m told the Southern experience is mainly had inside a pool in summer time.” I smile at the thought.
“Well, there’s a creek on the farm,” she says slowly.
I heft my rolling bag into a compartment above my seat and sink into the leather chair beside the window. “Well that’s good. But this is a pool. I thought it could go beside the house.”
“I’ve got the pens there now. For the goats and the pigs. They’re right behind the house.”
“What about out to the left, like in the front. On that side where we had the bounce castle thing, but back a little? Under that big tree?”
She sighs. “You’re really giving them a big ole pool? Are they even good swimmers?”
“The best. C’mon. I’m sure you know they’re both good swimmers.”
“Well, we’d have to be real sure. It’s different when you have something right beside the house.”
“I’ve seen them swim. You’re good.”
She sighs again. “Okay. If you say so.”
I smile. “Let’s have it be from both of us.”
“We’re not their mom and dad.” She says it like she’s rolling her eyes.
“No, but we’re their aunt and uncle. You’re giving the biggest part of it—the yard to put it on, and all your time to watch them swimming in it.”
“I’ll be swimming in it, too.”
“Get yourself a swimsuit, Juney.”
“I’ve got seven. You better bring yours. Nobody’s getting in wearing their boxer-briefs.”
I smirk at that, but decide not to be a pig about it.
“Scout’s honor. Got a suit in my bag.”
“We’ll see you and your suit later. Don’t let my brother get you too drunk this weekend. I heard he’s making hunch punch.”
“Nah, I’ve gotta work.”
There’s a brief silence, during which people stream past my seat toward the back of the plane. “Have a good flight, Mr. Benefactor. Don’t let all your altruism go to your big head.”
“Don’t tell the kids ahead of time if you can help it, okay? I want to come over in the morning and see them see it. If you don’t mind, of course.”
“We’ll be seeing you.”
I realize she hung up and shake my head at my phone.
“If that’s not reaction to a woman—or a man—then I’m not sure what is.”
I look up, blinking at the now-familiar face. “What are you doing here?”
***
Sabal Gurung, the hiking partner and hoped-for investing partner I was with when Asher and Sutton died, has decided that he wants to buy me out. I showed him our numbers and explained our plan when he and I spent time together at his mountain home. I told him all about the regulations, the municipality piece of things when we spoke during all that hiking.
I also confided in him about our AI challenges. AI is a vital piece of the app—without it, the app can’t do its main job, which is assessing its user—but I don’t have access to that…and he does. He seemed enthusiastic. Even said he thought the app could be important. “I’m an old man,” he told me then. “I need a legacy.”
It seemed like a sure thing, but then he didn’t buy in. I wondered about it briefly, but I was pis
sed off that I’d been with him, unable to be reached by phone, when Asher passed. So at the time, I sort of didn’t care.
Now he’s popped up on my flight, and as it turns out, he’s spent the last few months freeing up the capital to try to buy me out.
I listen quietly for most of the flight—as he tries to make a case that I’m spread too thin, “just one man,” and at risk of burning through my money before the app is able to be monetized.
“Yes, you have a degree of wealth,” he says, looking at me over the rim of his bifocals. “But I have so much more.” He lifts his gray brows—partly teasing, I think—and I laugh.
It’s true, and for a moment, I feel torn. It would be such a damn relief to pass the impossibly complex tangle that is Aes’ development on to someone with deeper pockets and more resources than I have. And he’s not wrong; there is some chance I could run through my money.
But…I don’t know. I shake my head and finish my gin.
“I don’t think I can.” I grit my teeth and pull a slow breath in through my nose. It’s too hard to explain to him.
He tilts his head to one side, giving me his thin-lipped smile. His brown eyes seem to see into me.
“Okay,” he says simply. He taps the side of his head. “I know.”
Whatever that means. The man is one of the wealthiest tech barons living right now. Who knows what he does know.
For the rest of the flight, we talk about baseball—one of his favorite topics.
Before the plane lands, I give him my apologies and let him know I’d love to have his bank account on board, even though I feel the need to steer the ship myself. He’s a good sport about it, but by the time I climb into the cab of Shawn’s truck at the airport, I’m fucking exhausted.
“Hey there, man!”
Shawn’s as friendly as I remember, carrying the conversation for most of our drive to Heat Springs. After the first hour, I get out of my head and pull more of my weight. He asks about my brother—in a way that doesn’t bother me—and I tell him how it’s weird it feels to constantly re-remember Asher is gone and not just waiting around at his house for when I get a chance to stop by.