My lustful gazing at my footwear kept me from looking where I was going. I tripped, reaching out for something to hold on to, but there was nothing there in the middle of the sidewalk. I hit the ground hard, my knees bearing the brunt of it. They were a scraped mess, blood oozing onto the pavement. The wine bottle had broken, and cabernet spilled out. I watched it stream toward me, the burgundy color mixing with the bright red of my blood. People rushed over. The wine spill made it look far worse than it was. Someone handed me a napkin, and I wiped my knees. By then they’d already stopped bleeding. I’d thanked everyone around me and done my best to dispose of the broken wine bottle. The embarrassment stung more than my scraped knees. As I took my first steps away from the unfortunate incident, I saw a swish of icy blonde hair up ahead. Not many people have hair the color of a Frozen princess, but I knew one person: Warren’s sister, Shannon. She walked quickly in the opposite direction, and just when I thought maybe she didn’t see my fall, she glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder. Right into my eyes. She stopped, turning around and plastering a smile on her face. As she approached, she pretended to be shocked to see the angry red of my knees. I played her game, recounting the story, and she responded as if she had no idea what occurred.
It’s an unpleasant memory, one I’d rather forget. I wiggle my shoulders, as if I can wring it from me like a wet towel. Warren, and his family, are gone from my life.
I put the memory out of my mind and make the rounds to each tent, hoping to come across someone with homemade pasta. I’ll even settle for the dried variety, if it will mean not having to run to the grocery store.
I get excited when I find I’m in luck. And freshly made, to boot. I choose a fettuccini. I need a noodle big enough to hold up the veggies.
It happens when I reach for the bag, taking it in my grasp and smiling my thanks at the owner/pasta maker. The white-blonde flash of hair catches my eye in the twelve inches of space between tents, then it’s gone.
Shannon? No.
There’s no way she’s here. Why would she be? Other people have that hair color too. Despite all the rationalizations, my pace speeds up. I dodge a double stroller and almost trip over the toddler walking beside it. I wasn’t expecting him. Shouldn’t he be in the stroller?
I make it around the corner and turn into the next row of tents, where I saw that hair, but now I don’t see it anywhere. A sigh slips from my lips. It was just a memory coming to life, feeling real, like when I was a kid and swore up and down a clown lived in my closet.
It didn’t, of course, nor did I see hair that belongs on Shannon’s head.
Ugh.
Fishing through my bag, I find the wine and inspect the top, hoping it’s a twist-off. It’s not.
A few yards away, a vendor sells popcorn. That’ll do.
I order buttered popcorn and a cold bottle of water, then go to a bench and sit down. My frazzled nerves are slowly eking out, drop by drop.
I shake my head and let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. That was wild. I hope nothing like that happens again for a long time. It’s bad enough tha—
“Hi, Addison.”
I shoot from my seat, upending my popcorn, and whip around. My breath slams up my throat, choking me.
Tall. Thin. Too thin.
“How…I…” A sob mixes with a word, incoherent. I step into him, wrap my arms around his neck, and I’m careful, so careful, because he looks frail.
“Warren.” His name is a whisper, a question, a statement, a how the hell are you here.
“Addison.” My name is a reverence on his lips, but his voice is wrong. The baritone is scratched, like a cat reached into his throat and clawed him. Something else is missing, too, something so essential. His smell. Where is the spicy cologne, the scent of freshly washed clothing? Warren had been meticulous in his appearance. This is my Warren, but it’s not.
White-blonde hair shimmers. Shannon stands a few feet away. The tips of her mouth turn down.
I pull back to look at him, open my mouth to ask how this all happened, but he silences me. His lips come down on mine, and suddenly he’s Warren again. The pressure, the feel, down to the scruff of his chin scratching my own. His kisses always had a cadence, long at first, followed by two shorter pecks.
He might look and sound different, but this kiss is like every kiss we shared. As if he’d never fallen into a dreamlike slumber, as if the past year never happened.
My heart, stitched together only recently, breaks again.
Brady.
24
Brady
“Brady, you have a package up here.” Louisa’s voice comes through my cell phone.
Confusion causes the corners of my mouth to turn down. I didn’t order anything.
“Who’s it from?” I ask, pulling on pants. I’ve just showered and the only thing I was wearing when she called was my underwear.
“I can’t look right now. I left it on the table near the front door. Just come up here.”
Louisa’s voice has an eager intonation. It makes my confused frown deepen.
“Be up in a few,” I tell her. I pull on a shirt and run a towel through my hair one more time. It’s longer than usual and holds more water than I’m used to. After I’ve brushed it into my typical side part, I slide my feet into my shoes and head for the main house.
I use the short walk to guess what the ‘package’ could be.
Maybe my mother sent me something, but who knows what. She’s not the cookie baking, care package type.
Maybe it’s Addison, naked save for a pale pink ribbon tied around her neck. No matter how much I’d love for it to be the latter, it’s obviously not. Louisa wouldn’t be the one calling me.
Before I can come up with any other possible and improbable scenarios, I’m pulling open the back door and stepping into the house.
“Louisa?” I call, walking through the informal dining room and rounding the corner.
“Holy shit!” I stop short.
My ‘package’ isn’t on the table. It’s standing by the table. And there are two.
“Surprise!” Lennon yells, flinging open her arms and giving a couple small, excited hops on her toes.
My eyes zero in on her stomach. I can’t help it. Her bump is small, probably missed by the casual observer, but to me, it might as well be a flashing beacon. Lennon is pregnant, and even though I already knew it, seeing it in person makes it real.
My shock at seeing the swell of her stomach is covered up by the even greater shock that they are in the living room of Sweet Escape. “What the hell?” I ask, dumbfounded, and step into a hug with both of them.
Lennon laughs. “We wanted to see what you had going on up here in Lonesome.”
We’re still hugging, so she can’t see my eyebrows pinch together. There isn’t a soul in this room, including her own, who believes her. She wanted to meet Addison and check on me.
I take a step back and look at Finn.
He shrugs and tucks his hands into his pockets. “What she said.”
So whipped. He always has been.
“You came all this way to see what was going on in Lonesome?”
She averts her gaze and crosses her arms, knowing her motives have been brought to light but unwilling to admit it. While she surveys the living room, she asks, “Why don’t you show us your cabin? And the town?”
I smirk. “And Addison?”
Lennon groans. “Fine, yes. And Addison.”
“She’s jealous,” Finn quips, grinning. He thinks it’s funny. He’s so secure in her love for him that he doesn’t care if she’s jealous of Addison.
“I am not,” Lennon argues. She meets my eyes. “Okay, fine, I am. And it’s weird. I just want to make sure she’s good for you. You’re on the rebound, and…” Her chin dips to her chest, one hand fidgets with her earring. “It’s my fault. I needed to see that you’re okay. You’re my best friend.”
She steps into a hug with only me, wrapping her arms around my middle. Her frame
is still so small in my arms, and she smells like she always has. But, unlike all of our hugs since we were old enough to be interested in the opposite sex, this one feels different. I’m not holding her and wishing for more. This is a hug between old friends. Yes, I still love her, but I’m no longer in love with her.
I didn’t think I needed the confirmation, but now I’m glad I have it. My whole heart is pointed in Addison’s direction, and there will be no second-guessing.
“Come here, baby,” Finn says in a kind and slightly possessive voice I’ve never heard him use, something I’m guessing is usually reserved for when they’re alone together. He pulls her from me and into him. Their embrace is different. Her arms are around his neck, her whole body molds to his.
Above her head, he mouths, “Emotional,” his eyes rolling upward.
“I know what you just said.” Her voice is muffled against his chest.
He chuckles, and her head bobs with the movement.
Before Finn can get himself in any more trouble with Lennon, I invite them to see my place. They follow me through the house, and I realize Louisa didn’t come out to chat. She must be somewhere nearby, giving us privacy but most definitely in hearing distance. I’m sure she was curious about my visitors.
I point out the kitchen and tell them about Addison’s baking and the competition, explaining that she’s in town delivering the trial-run baked goods to friends.
Finn spends time looking over the main house and then my cabin. He says he’s collecting ideas for their place.
“I thought you were finished,” I tell him after I’ve completed the tour and we’re standing on the little porch in front of my place.
“I think it’ll always be a work-in-progress. I keep seeing things I want to add or change.”
Lennon steps onto the porch, late to join us because she’d needed to use the bathroom. Something about the baby being parked on her bladder.
“Brady, you’ll have to come out and see the baby. Maybe when he’s born you can visit us?” Hope makes Lennon’s eyebrows lift higher on her forehead.
“Of course I will. Can’t keep me from my godson.”
Lennon makes an annoyed noise, her narrowed gaze flying at Finn. “You asked him without me?”
His palms lift in defense. “Nope. Brady guessed.” He gives me a look, asking for corroboration.
“He didn’t say anything,” I vow, backing up Finn. “Who else would it be?”
“Oh. Okay.” Lennon looks disappointed. She’d wanted to ask me. She gazes out across the small yard and into the trees.
Behind her, Finn mouths the word emotional again, and this time Lennon doesn’t notice.
My lips purse together to keep my laughter silent. Reaching into my pocket, I jingle my car keys. “You guys want to head into town? I can show you some places and maybe find Addison?”
“Yes!” Lennon exclaims, clapping her hands together twice. She leads the charge down the steps and back across the yard. Finn and I follow.
The three of us, back together. It feels good, but now there’s a missing spot where Addison should be.
Hopefully we’ll see her in town, and that spot will be filled.
* * *
“You bought a truck?” Lennon eyes the vehicle. “I guess you’re staying here awhile?”
“I bought it a couple weeks ago because I wanted a way to get around, and I was planning on giving it to the owner of Sweet Escape when I left, but now…” My sentence trails off, but my meaning is loud and clear. Addison has changed everything for me.
Lennon pokes my side before climbing into the back seat. “Brady’s in lo-ove,” she sing-songs.
I nod, pulling my lower lip between my teeth and biting down. “That I am, guys.” Going around the front of the truck, I get in the driver’s seat and Finn gets in the passenger seat.
Lennon meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. She is happy for me, truly happy, and seeing me move on eases her guilt. She doesn’t need to verbalize any of this. Communicating without talking has always existed between us, and I’m pleased to see it still does, at least for now. Someday, it will probably wane. She’ll become a mother and a wife, I’ll become a father and a husband, and what we once shared will have to fade so we can nurture our new roles. But we’ll always be best friends. Always.
Suddenly I’m relieved and overjoyed Lennon and Finn decided to surprise me. I needed their visit, even though I didn’t know it. I needed to know that I could do it, that I could move on without reservation.
I put the truck in drive and head into town. I’m ready to find Addison. Ready to pull her into me and show her off to my best friends. They’re going to love her. How could anybody not?
I point things out to them as we drive through town. The grocery store where I helped Paul’s dad. The bakery I’m certain will soon be Addison’s.
“And that place,” I say with a note of pride at Finn, pointing at the bar. “Is where I finally put your punching lesson into practice. I knocked a guy out who wouldn’t leave Addison alone.”
Finn laughs and lightly shoves my shoulder. Lennon, who I thought wouldn’t like that story, grins. “Classic Brady. Defending the honor of a lady.”
“Always,” I declare, pretending to bow as much as I can with the steering wheel in my way.
“Ohhh, what’s that?” Lennon asks excitedly. Her hand reaches into the front seat, pointing ahead.
“An outdoor market, I think.” I haven’t seen it before, but I’m guessing based on the white tents lined up in rows.
Lennon taps my shoulder. “Can we stop? An outdoor market in the summertime sounds so picturesque.”
I get what she means. In Agua Mesa, markets are held in the late fall and spring. Nobody wants to shop or sell outdoors in the intense heat of an Arizona summer.
Without answering her, I pull into the next parking space I find.
Finn offers Lennon his hand, helping her out of the truck, and she rewards him with a big kiss. We walk around the market, and Lennon picks out a few things. Finn reminds her they’ll have to take it back in their carry-on, and she pats her belly and cheerfully tells him the homemade jam and freshly baked bread will probably be eaten long before their return flight.
He kisses her in this sweet way that is completely appropriate, but I get the sense they’re sharing something deeply personal. I look away.
What the fuck?
A fist sails into my gut. Not a fist made of flesh and bone, but one of anguish and sorrow, burrowing deep into my core. The fist climbs north, grabbing ahold of my heart.
“Brady, what’s wrong?” Lennon’s concerned voice sounds far away, at the end of a tunnel.
I am in the tunnel too, unable to see anything but what’s happening ten yards away.
Addison, in the arms of another man.
His lips pressed firmly to hers.
Her hands, hanging limply at her sides, rise, palming the man’s chest.
And I know, I don’t know how, but I do, I know this is Warren. Somehow, some way, he came back from the near-dead. He has come for his fiancée.
Beside them, a woman with hair so blonde it’s nearly white, eyes me. She takes in my expression, whatever it is I don’t know because I can’t get a firm grasp on the hundreds of emotions flying around inside me right now, and then she smiles.
She fucking smiles.
Like a victor.
I know what I’ve lost, but what has she won?
* * *
“Brady.” Lennon’s voice pokes through my jumbled thoughts. “Was that… Addison?” I hear in her voice how much she doesn’t want to be right.
I say nothing, which probably confirms her suspicion. She and Finn follow along behind me as I make my way back through the tents. How happy, how carefree, how blind I was when we walked through here only minutes ago.
We’re silent on the drive back to Sweet Escape. I leave Finn and Lennon in the truck, slipping around the side of the main house to avoid Louisa.
&nb
sp; Twenty minutes later, I emerge from cabin seven. My duffle bag is heavy on my shoulder, and my suitcase catches on the thick grass.
When I reach my truck, I toss both in the bed, beside Finn and Lennon’s luggage.
I guess it’s still just the three of us after all.
25
Addison
I push away from him. Gently, though. So carefully. I don’t want to hurt him. Physically, or emotionally.
Warren cups my cheek, stares into my eyes.
It is his gaze, the one I fell in love with. But it’s all wrong.
I’m looking into brown eyes, and longing for blue.
“Warren, I—”
“Addy!”
Shannon wraps me in a hug, and I can taste her fraudulent friendliness. Because we’re in front of Warren, I play nice. And also, I’m too shocked to form an intelligent argument against her, to do anything except go along with her.
She looks smug, and I don’t know why. A moment ago she looked upon Warren and I with disapproval.
Warren sways, blinking hard and slow a few times, and Shannon jumps into action, leading him to the bench I’d been on when I saw him. I follow, my shoes crunching the popcorn that fell to the ground when my whole world was upended by the mother of all surprises.
Shannon helps Warren sit, and I sink down beside him. She frowns at me for taking the place she was going to sit in but recovers before Warren can notice, hovering over him instead. “Are you okay? Do you need to rest?”
She reminds me of a curly-winged gnat. No matter how many times you shoo it away, it won’t leave you the fuck alone.
“Shannon?” Warren asks, looking at her. His expression is appreciative, but it also says she’s worn out her welcome for the time being. “Can I get some time alone with Addison?”
“Of course,” she murmurs.
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