“I lied. You know I lied!”
“Yeah, well, the story’s out now!”
“Thanks to you.”
“You beg me to come up here, pretend to be your husband, and you’re mad at me for… what? For doing it too well? I wish you’d make up your damn mind, woman!”
“Fuck you, Prescott!”
“You’d love to, wouldn’t you?”
Her entire face reddened, the color spreading down across the top of her chest. Her eyes, those beautiful blue things, rounded like saucers. I’d touched a sore spot and I was instantly sorry the words had ever formed on the tip of my tongue.
“Skylar…”
“Leave me alone!”
She brushed past me and stormed into the bathroom, locking the door before I could even think to go talk to her. I went to the door anyway.
“Skylar, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She didn’t answer, at least not loud enough for me to hear her. I stood there for a long few minutes, waiting for her to come out, but she never did.
“I’m sorry…”
I had this way of screwing things up when all I really wanted was to be helpful. Maybe the best thing I could do now was just get out of the way.
I went into the dressing room and threw myself onto the couch. Give her some space. Isn’t that what she wanted?
Chapter 5
Skylar
The garden had always been my favorite place to hang out. Today, though, the sky was overcast and the world seemed gray, fitting for my mood. I walked between my great-gran’s favorite rose bushes and found myself wondering if she and I would ever take our morning walks together again.
I’d known there was something wrong. We talked every week, and the last few weeks—maybe she sounded a little less enthusiastic—I really hadn’t noticed a change. But then Friday, she didn’t even ask how my week had gone. She always asked about my week.
I should have known she wasn’t doing well. I should have come sooner.
Bringing Prescott had been a mistake. I wasn’t quite sure why I’d done it. He was… I was selfish, thinking this might be my last chance to convince him I was worth a second look. If he came here, convinced my great-gran knew we were married, forced to act like a real husband, he might actually see me as a wife, as a partner, as someone who could make him a suitable partner. But the moment we’d arrived, and I’d seen Zander, I’d known it was a mistake. I hadn’t expected Prescott to announce our marriage just like that. I thought I could take him somewhere private and explain about my lies and offer him a ticket home. But now everyone knew—part of the story, anyway—and it would be odd to send him away. Maybe in a few days.
Until then… I wasn’t sure what to do with him.
I stopped to study a blooming rose on one of the bushes, admiring the delicate pink petals that were already beginning to wilt and fall away. I touched one and it fluttered to the ground, the pale pink a beautiful contrast to the bright greens and browns of the walkway beneath it.
“I’m afraid I’m falling down on the job. I should be pruning them more often.”
I looked up, a sadness clouding my view of Zander’s familiar face. “Great-Gran always cut them every morning during her walk.”
“She did. But she stopped taking her walks about a month ago.”
“Has it been that long? Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“Nolan assured us he was keeping in touch with you.”
I nodded, realizing that Nolan had called me on multiple occasions over the past month. But the conversations had seemed to be normal updates, reports on new medications and a trip to the doctor that had gone smoothly. I couldn’t remember any mention of her declining health, but maybe it hadn’t seemed so drastic to those who were here all the time.
I should have been here. If I’d been here, maybe she would be better; maybe she’d still be taking her walks.
“She’s an old woman, Skylar. I know it’s hard to accept, but she was never going to live forever.”
“I know. She just seemed invincible to me, you know?”
“The ones we love the most usually do. Look at my dad. I never thought I’d see him injured, but that broken hip really took it out of him.”
“I suppose it did.”
Zander moved up beside me and snipped the rose I’d been admiring, handing it to me. “Do you remember when you were about twelve and I was weeding here in the garden, that summer you first came for the whole break, and you got down on your knees in that white dress Aurora had forced you to wear, to help me? I never saw Aurora so angry or so amused all at the same time!”
I smiled. “She made me wear that dress to the dinner party anyway, saying that if I was going to make a mess of myself, I had to own up to it and explain to everyone exactly what I’d done.”
“You never batted an eye. I think that was the moment we all knew you were Aurora’s great-granddaughter without a doubt. You were just like her.”
I glanced at him. “Thank you. That’s a sweet thing to say.”
He rolled his shoulders. “It’s the truth.”
I brushed my hair off my neck, wishing I had worn it up instead of in this crazy set of curls that fell so heavy on my skin. I twisted it and pulled it over my shoulder as I watched him trim the rest of the roses from the bush.
“Do you think Nolan’s doing a good job? Is he taking good care of her?”
“He is. He adores her. You know that.”
“But he’s doing everything right, making sure she has the right medications, not too much, not too little?”
“Are you worried that Nolan’s trying to hurt your great-grandmother?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “It just seems she’s declined so quickly over the past few weeks. Does she have her girlfriends over anymore?”
“Not in three weeks.”
That hurt my heart. Great-Gran had always loved having her friends around. The fact that she didn’t was a pretty big sign that she wasn’t doing well. It scared me.
“I should go talk to her doctor.”
Zander put down the roses he’d cut, laying them carefully in a cloth he’d already laid out on the ground. Then he turned to me and pulled me toward him, his hands resting firmly on my upper arms.
“People grow old. You have to accept that this is nature taking its course. If you can’t, you’re only going to make it harder for her.”
“She’s my family. I can’t just sit back and watch her die!”
“I know it’s hard. It’s hard for all of us. But you know Aurora. She wouldn’t want you to fuss over her, especially when you have this new marriage and everything else going on in your life.”
“I just want to talk to her doctor, make sure everything that can be done is being done for her.”
“That’s what Nolan’s doing here.”
“I know. I just—”
“Why don’t you come into town with me? We’ll go to lunch and hang out with some of the old crowd. What do you say?” Zander brushed his fingers over my cheek as he drew me close to him. “I know you’re worried. We’re all worried. But sitting around here wringing our hands isn’t going to help anyone.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You know I am.”
I chuckled softly. “You could never just take a compliment. You always have to steal all the credit for everything!”
“No one ever accused me of being humble.”
I nodded. “That’s what I always liked about you. You were confident where I was always bashful. Always knew exactly who you were and exactly what you wanted.”
“Funny you would say that, seeing as how you’re an example of me not getting what I want.”
“How’s that?”
Zander’s eyebrows rose as he looked down at me. “How could you not know? Don’t you see how heartbroken I am to see you with that… that English fool? He doesn’t even know what he’s got in you.”
I shook my head, brushing off hi
s comment. “You were never interested in me that way.”
“Sure, I was. Don’t you know the son of the chauffeur always has the hots for the boss’s daughter? Or, in this case, the boss’s great-granddaughter?”
I shook my head again, giggling at the idea. I’d never thought of Zander that way—except maybe briefly when I was fourteen and had a crush on every guy who looked twice in my direction—and couldn’t imagine that he ever thought of me that way. The very idea was a little overwhelming. Here I was pining over a man who would never notice me while this good, capable man was pining over me? It didn’t seem plausible.
“We could still run away together, you know.” He lifted my chin a little. “Leave all this behind and see what might be waiting for us at the other end of the rainbow.”
It was a tempting thought, to be completely honest. A very tempting thought.
“What’s going on here? Should I be jealous?”
I jerked back, blushing with shame even though I hadn’t been doing anything wrong. It wasn’t like my marriage was real—right? What did it matter to Prescott if I flirted with an old friend? But the tone of his voice and the way he was looking at the two of us made me feel like a child caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“Good morning, Prescott,” Zander said stiffly, stepping back and bending to retrieve his tools. “I hope you slept well.”
“Quite well, actually. Thank you for asking.”
I glanced at Prescott, blushing again at the memory of seeing him in nothing but a towel the night before. Two years of living together and such things had never happened because he was always careful to warn me before using the bathroom. It made me wonder if last night had been intentional for some reason. But why would he now want to put me in such an uncomfortable situation?
Everything about Prescott’s behavior on this trip was odd. I wondered again if maybe I’d overstepped some boundary by asking him here.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Prescott said, reaching for my hand. “Would you walk with me, love?”
I lowered my head slightly in assent. He pulled me to his side and we wandered off, deeper into the garden. I glanced back at Zander and caught him watching us, a contemplative look on his face. I blushed again, wishing I wasn’t so easy to show color. It was like my emotions lived just below the surface of my cheeks and were ready to flash neon signs to let the whole world know what was going on in my heart every second of every day. It was frustrating.
“He has a thing for you.”
I glanced at Prescott. “You think?”
“You ever have feelings for him?”
I shook my head, thinking again of that brief summer when I was fourteen. “Not really. He was just a friend.”
“Maybe a friend with loftier ideas.”
“What does that mean?”
Prescott shrugged, the movement pulling me closer to his side. “He’s the butler’s son and you’re the boss’s great-granddaughter. One day all this will fall to you and maybe he’s tired of being the hired help.”
“You think he only likes me because I might inherit all this?” I pulled my hand away from his and walked a little faster. “Nice to know what you think of me.”
“It wasn’t meant as an insult to you.”
“But wasn’t it? Weren’t you saying that the only men who might love me are men who want something from me?” A thought suddenly hit and I spun around, pushing him back with a good shove to the chest. “Is that why you’ve suddenly gotten so nice? Because you think I’m going to come into all this when my great-gran dies? Do you think you’ll get a little bit of her money because we’re married?”
“Never crossed my mind.”
“Bull!” Tears burned my throat. “I should have known! You avoid me and ignore me and treat me like I don’t even exist for two years and now you want to be the perfect husband? I should have known!”
I stormed off, the sound of my name on his lips like the final insult.
Chapter 6
Prescott
The diner was small and smelled like spoiled grease. The atmosphere, however, reminded me a little of a neighborhood pub, the sort my father used to love hiding out in after work most evenings back home, the one owned by an old school chum who sat at my mother’s dinner table Sunday nights and said grace in a booming, honest voice. It was the kind of place where everyone was family.
Except Skylar.
I could feel it the second we walked in, the way people looked at her, the way she held herself slightly apart even as people greeted her by name. She didn’t belong.
How could I change that?
It was when I saw the waitress from the day before join the group, dressed in regular clothes, clearly there just for this little party, that I knew what to do.
“Miranda, right?”
The woman, a tall slender blonde with big brown eyes, smiled as she approached me, accepting the hand I proffered. “That’s me,” she said in this sweet singsong sort of voice.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
“Just nice?” She moved close to me, her smile softening her lips in a calculated sort of way. “I hope I made a better impression than that!”
I looked her over, thinking this was exactly the kind of woman I’d go in search of if I was here alone and looking for company. But I wasn’t alone.
“You were the first person I met in this little town, and you certainly offered a nice impression.” I stepped back, extracting myself from her touch. Skylar was watching, this expression on her face that made it clear that she thought she knew what I was up to and she wasn’t happy about it. But then I reached for her and pulled her in front of me, forcing her between me and Miranda. “You know my wife, don’t you?”
The shock on Miranda’s face was almost comical. Her eyes widened, and she did this little move, this sort of double take that would have given anyone else whiplash.
“Your wife?”
“I guess I forgot to mention that yesterday.” I dropped a kiss on the top of Skylar’s head. “Why don’t we find a seat, darling?”
“Sure,” Skylar said, glancing at Miranda as we walked off.
Score one for me.
The table Zander had chosen was at the back of the room, a round table with nearly a dozen chairs set around it. Skylar picked two chairs off to the right of the table, with our backs to the windows rather than the rest of the room. I pulled out her chair for her, causing her to shoot me a cautious glance before she sat. I took the seat to her right, turning the chair so that my full attention was focused on her and nothing else. She glanced at me again, a mixture of confusion and pleasure mingling in her beautiful blue eyes.
Zander and Miranda chose seats across the table from us, greeting each other with the sort of small talk people who saw each other too often indulged in. Not a full minute after we sat, a couple wandered in, a tall redheaded man and a somewhat round brunette. Skylar stood and smiled, shaking hands, but not offering hugs like I half expected. Friends but not friends was what I inferred from this greeting. These people were followed by several more, one a young woman about Skylar’s age whom she hugged with ferocity. The rest… I got the impression that most of these people were acquaintances, not close friends of Skylar’s.
It made me sad, to be honest, to watch as this large group of friends greeted one another with open affection, but managed to leave Skylar on the sidelines even as they attempted to include her. Did she understand that these people only accepted her because of her friendship with Zander? Did she see that they let her in because of her last name, not because of who she was? How sad was that?
I was largely ignored at first. Curious glances touched my being, but no one went out of their way to ask who I was or why I was there. But then everyone was sitting again, discussing the menu. I decided to give them something to talk about.
“What are you thinking, darling?” I asked, slipping an arm around Skylar’s neck, drawing her closer to me. “A burger? Or maybe the chicken di
nner?”
She glanced at me, again that curious but confused expression in her eyes. “I was thinking the grilled chicken salad.”
“Oh, you should get something hardier than that. It’s a long while till dinner.”
“What are you getting?”
“The burger, I think. Are they good here?”
She shrugged, looking at me again. She bit her bottom lip, and—despite having seen her do this thing many times in the past—it had this sort of erotic appeal to it, making me wonder what it might be like to nibble at it myself. Were her lips as soft as they looked? Did they taste as sweet as the gloss she wore suggested? Did she kiss like she did everything, with slow deliberation?
The thoughts going through my head! What was getting into me?
I leaned down and kissed her shoulder. She was wearing a concert T-shirt for some band I’d never heard of that had an off-the-shoulder sort of style, leaving those perfect round globes of flesh completely bare. She had freckles on her shoulders, teeny dots of darker skin that gave them a sort of innocence that the rest of her outfit—a tight leather skirt and dark tights under heavy combat boots—belied. I tugged at a curl, wrapping it around my finger as I pulled it out of my way, brushing my lips against her shoulder again.
“Prescott,” she whispered, her voice slightly higher.
“Who is this, Skylar?” the one woman who’d greeted Skylar with any warmth asked.
“Her husband!” Miranda announced from across the table, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe it.
“Prescott Armstrong,” I said, offering a hand to the woman.
“Amy Long,” she said in return, shaking my hand briefly, her eyes filled with just as much disbelief as Miranda’s tone. “How long have you been married?”
“Almost two of the best years of my life,” I said, running a finger along the curve of Skylar’s jaw. “Our anniversary is just four months away.”
Amy tilted her head as she regarded Skylar. “I saw you last year. You didn’t say anything.”
“It’s a long story,” Skylar explained. “We—”
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