by Mary Frame
“How?”
“I . . . don’t know. Yet. But I will. I’ll think of something.” I inject as much confidence into my voice as I can. I have to think of something. “In the meantime, there’s not much we can do except wait and see. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”
She nods uncertainly, her eyes red and bleary. Her steps are slow as she makes her way upstairs, her bag still on her back.
Once her door shuts softly, I close my eyes and slump back on the couch.
My worst nightmare has come true.
Chapter Two
The sound of muffled voices pulls me from sleep.
Bleary-eyed, I blink my eyes open. I’m on the couch. There’s a blanket over me. It’s from my bed. It wasn’t there when I fell asleep. I sit up. And wince. There’s a crick in my neck, and the smell of flour and syrup wafts through the air.
Is Paige cooking? Curious to see such an oddity in action, I turn my head toward the sounds, moving carefully when my neck twinges.
I can’t see who’s in the kitchen, but I can hear Paige’s voice. She’s not alone, and she’s definitely not cooking. It’s Jared.
He asks Paige if she wants to go to the beach, maybe eat lunch on the boardwalk to celebrate the end of the school year, chatting as if our entire world hasn’t just imploded.
Paige’s affirmative response sounds normal, if a bit subdued.
The previous night comes rushing back, raging in my mind, filtering down into my stomach. I’m going to get an ulcer. What I really want to do is curl up in a ball and forget the world. But I can’t. I’m not ready to face Jared, though. Not yet.
Why is he here anyway? I stand up and nearly step on Gravy. The cat hisses at me and takes off, claws scraping against the floor as he flees down the hall into the front of the shop.
Jared must have come over to bring the devil cat home.
I pause, listening. They’re still talking in the kitchen, so they must not have heard Gravy. The cat apparently hates me again.
Keeping my footsteps light, I sneak upstairs to the bathroom to freshen up.
The woman in the mirror looks like she’s been through a tornado. My eyes are puffy, my hair is tangled, and the mascara smudges under my eyes make me look a level below zombie and maybe half a step above corpse.
I clean up and brush my hair, my brain shuffling the entire time. With all of the craziness of last night, I haven’t had a chance to think about Jared and what happened with him before the world exploded in my face.
What am I going to do?
We slept together. But it was more than that. We had . . . everything between us, for a few glorious moments. I opened up because I never thought I would see him again, and now he’s downstairs with Paige like nothing has changed.
But it has.
I imagine, for a minute, pushing him away. Again. Making some excuse about why we can’t be together.
It’s what I should do.
It’s what’s best for him.
But I can’t.
Mother’s words haunt me. You can start with your little boyfriend here.
The entire time I’ve known him, he’s thought of me as Ruby. That alone is bad enough to twist my insides and make me groan in frustration every time he calls me by her name. But it’s also something that I could possibly, maybe, if I got caught and had to do it, rationalize and defend. But now . . . now I have no idea what’s going to happen with the parents, but I doubt it will be something I can easily explain. The vines of my lies will grow into a forest of deception, and all for what?
For Paige.
They want me to introduce them to everyone as my aunt and uncle, allude to their charity business, but what else? How much will they demand?
I don’t want to do what they say or go along with their scheme, but there’s a small part of me that revels in the ruse. With Jared, it won’t be a deception at all to continue our relationship. My time with him is limited. If I do as they say, I get to keep him, if only for a little while longer. I’ll have pretend feelings for him that aren’t pretend at all.
My palms sweat when I think about seeing him again. About being with him again.
For now, I have to act like everything is normal. What else can I do? I need to come up with a plan. How am I going to get us out of this mess? I’m back to having no car, no money, and no means of escape.
Back downstairs in the kitchen, Jared is flipping pancakes at the stove and Paige is leaning against the counter.
She looks okay, although there’s a wilt in the line of her shoulders. At least Jared has put a bit of sparkle back in her eyes.
She’s so resilient.
“Do you want to go to the beach today?” she asks when I enter the kitchen.
My eyes are on Jared, eating him up. Apparently he can put the sparkle back in me, as well.
Despite everything else.
Last night, I never thought I would see him again. But here we are. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He’s in a pair of swim trunks with a plain T-shirt and sandals on his feet. The clock on the oven shows nine o’clock. He missed his morning run to come by.
I’m totally checking him out and he knows it—and likes it—if the smirk on his face is any indication.
“Ruby?” Paige interrupts my not-so-subtle perusal.
“What?”
“Did you hear me?”
“Um. Yeah, sure. Beach good.”
I’ve devolved into a caveman. The things this man does to my brain.
“Good morning,” Jared says. He’s not fooled at all by my lack of speaking ability. “Do you want coffee?”
He made me coffee. My already melting heart melts a little more. “Yes.”
The coffee pot is right next to the stove. He opens the cabinet and gets me a mug, placing it on the counter.
When I step up beside him to get my cup, he stares down at me, his eyes heavy with the weight of the night before.
“Naomi is leaving for camp today, so I’m glad we’re doing something,” Paige says from seemingly far away. “It’s going to suck to be here without her all summer.” That’s not the only reason this summer is going to suck, but we can’t talk about that now.
Normalcy.
We can do it.
Jared rips his eyes away from mine to glance over at Paige. He clears his throat and turns back to the stove. “That’s too bad. Where’s she going to camp?”
I pour my coffee in silence as they talk about some summer camp up in the middle of the forest next to a lake, a few hours away.
What would he have done just now if Paige weren’t here?
“Are you ready for pancakes, Paige?” Jared expertly flips one onto a plate.
“Yes.” She walks up on the other side with her plate and then grabs the syrup off the counter. “I’m eating in the living room.” With an eye roll worthy of her age, she bolts into the other room.
“Are you hungry?” he asks once she’s gone.
“Yes.” But not for pancakes.
We turn toward each other at the same time and then his mouth is on mine, the heat burning between us.
He bites my lower lip as he pulls away, his arms still around me. “Why did you leave me the note?”
Shit.
Oh, yeah. I left a note.
“I . . . had to leave to pick up Paige from the dance.”
“Why would you apologize for that?”
Thankfully, it was a vague note. Two words, I’m sorry. Sorry for lying, sorry for leaving, sorry for getting him involved at all. He would have understood if Paige and I had disappeared like we had planned.
All of the emotions of last night come rushing back, the pain of having to leave him, knowing we only had one night together, mixed with the pleasure of being with him and the anxiety from the parents’ sudden arrival. What a mess.
At least it’s an easy thing to explain.
“I felt bad that I had to leave you.” And it’s not even a lie.
He smi
les, a small tilt of his lips that I could stare at forever. “We could have a redo. Tonight.”
We could. I mean, we really could. “Okay, but what about Paige?”
He shrugs and rubs my shoulders. “You could just tell her about us.”
“Too late,” Paige says from the doorway.
I jump away from Jared, like we’re guilty teenagers caught necking in the family room, but he manages to snag my hand and hang on.
She frowns, her face stern. But then she breaks into a smile. “Seriously, like I didn’t see this coming? Adults are weird. Can I have more pancakes?”
Jared turns to the stove, pouring more batter into the pan. “Of course.”
While his back is turned, Paige gives me a side-eye with raised brows. I know she’s asking, Are you sure about this?
I shrug.
It might be the only thing in my life, besides Paige, that will get me through this crisis. Or it could make everything epically worse.
~*~
The beach is bright and happy enough to almost make me forget about our troubles.
Just kidding. I could never forget the looming threat of the parents, no matter how hard I try to act normal. Even if by some miracle they don’t take Paige and we get away, they’ve proven that they’ll follow us anyway. The last time we escaped, we had the element of surprise, a plan, and cash. This time, we have none of those things, and they have some ridiculous scheme that will get me arrested. Then who will take care of Paige? Jared flashes me a warm smile, but it leaves me ice-cold.
What if Jared has to arrest me?
We splash in the surf and eat lunch in the sand before heading back home. On the outside, we’re picture-perfect, except for my tendency to scan the area every so often. I can’t help it. Everywhere we go, I’m on the lookout. As a result, the few times Jared leans in for a kiss, I turn my head. And I don’t let him hold my hand for more than a few seconds.
It’s probably ridiculous. It’s not like I can protect him completely from their machinations, or mine. They already know about us, obviously.
Ugh.
I don’t want them to see how much he affects me. It’s not safe for him. How can I protect him and still act normal around him? I can’t.
And it bothers him.
His lips turn down every time I shy away, and the crease between his brows gets deeper as the afternoon progresses.
At the end of the day it doesn’t matter, because I don’t see the parents. Then there is a moment, a brief span where I think someone is tailing us when we’re heading back to Ruby’s, but when Jared turns down our street, they pass us by. It’s not a black Mercedes or the old clunky station wagon. It’s just a nondescript sedan like nearly every other car in Castle Cove.
For dinner, Jared makes us spaghetti and we watch Gone with the Wind in the living room.
Paige lounges on the floor on a couple of pillows while I sit with Jared on the couch, more comfortable leaning against him now since we’re not in public and the threat of malicious, watching eyes aren’t a potential problem.
It’s almost normal.
Jared doesn’t seem to feel the tension simmering in the air, an ever-present and lingering anxiety I can’t seem to shake.
If I didn’t know Paige better, I wouldn’t be able to tell, but every now and then, I catch the slight crease in her cheek, the turn of her lip.
She’s worried.
So am I.
Paige falls asleep before we even reach intermission, exhausted from lack of sleep the night before and then the day spent in the sun.
Jared’s arm is around me, comforting and warm, and I could fall asleep, too, if it weren’t for the brush of his thumb on my shoulder sending zings of electricity straight to my core every time he moves.
In silent accord—after Scarlett declares she’ll never be hungry again and the sweeping music signals the midpoint of the movie—I shut off the TV.
Jared carries Paige up to her room, having trouble coordinating her gangly limbs up the stairs, knocking her into the staircase once. She sleeps through it, but we giggle like teenagers.
After making sure all the doors are locked and the lights are off, I follow him up the stairs.
Leaning in the doorway, the light shining in from the hallway behind me, I watch him tuck Paige in, pulling her covers over her sleeping form and silently turning off her lamp.
He moves in my direction, and I take his hand, shutting Paige’s door gently before dragging him over to the master bedroom.
This man.
I wait until the door to the bedroom has shut before I grab his head and pull it down, the weight of the day still heavy in my heart but lightened by his hands down my back. He pulls me against him.
“Jared,” I breathe, wanting to tell him everything I feel, everything I need, but unable to form the words.
So instead, I show him.
My hands paint my emotions across his skin, every caress, every glance, every movement, until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
The morning starts with pure bliss.
I’ve never woken up with someone. Never experienced tangled limbs, quiet laughs, and secret smiles.
I’ve never felt so comfortable in my own skin, with heated eyes and lingering glances that tell me more than words could how beautiful I am.
I’ve never made waffles and laughed so hard my sides hurt. I’ve never had someone’s hands finding excuses to touch, excuses for mouths to taste.
It’s amazing.
And temporary.
Paige leaves our annoying couple-ness for the sanctity of her bedroom.
It’s Sunday, but Jared has to go to work, and I have to open the shop since we closed yesterday to go play at the beach. There are already a few customers waiting outside. After we eat I walk him to the door.
“I’ll call you.” He presses a kiss, quick and soft, to my mouth before I open the door.
He nods at some of the waiting customers. There are only a few.
Mrs. Hale is first in line, ready for her weekly chat, and there’s another couple behind her. At a glance, they appear to be tourists.
I’m so focused on Jared while he greets Mrs. Hale and then moves past her that I don’t focus on any of the other customers waiting.
It’s not until they stop Jared, and I’ve said hello to Mrs. Hale, that I realize they aren’t random tourists.
I see the curve of the woman’s cheek and the slope of the man’s nose every time I look in the mirror.
The euphoria of the morning evaporates in a single glance.
It’s them. And they’re talking to Jared.
Chapter Three
The parents always time their tactics with surgical precision.
Mrs. Hale pulls me inside but not before I catch a snippet of their conversation.
“You must be Jared.” Mother stops him with a gentle hand on his arm, the smile on her face lighting up her eyes. “I’m Ruby’s aunt Leah, and this is my husband, David.”
Jared’s brows lift and then Mrs. Hale is taking my arm and handing me a tray of cookies, forcing me to look away. They’re pudding cookies, she tells me—but she calls them “puddin’ cookies.”
I play it cool, like everything is perfectly normal, while talking to Mrs. Hale and simultaneously eavesdropping on the conversational disaster happening just outside the open door.
In my imagination they’re telling him the truth—well, their version of the truth—about all of my lies and deceptions, begging him to help them get back their daughter while Jared gapes at me in horror. But that’s just my imagination. In reality, the words are normal chitchat and introductions.
Mrs. Hale tells me she’s baking again. A fleeting glimmer of pride flickers through me despite my inattention and anxiety. I know she hasn’t baked since her husband died because of the guilt she felt. She’s finally moving on, and I wonder if I had something to do with her progress. The feeling is short-lived.
“Ruby, darling, you didn’t tell
us you had so many wonderful friends.” Mother steps up next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders and squeezing me lightly, the sincerest smile covering her face.
She introduces herself to Mrs. Hale and I meet Jared’s eyes.
He has a question in his gaze, probably wondering why I didn’t mention my relatives were in town, or why I haven’t mentioned them at all, ever.
I try to view them through his eyes, what details he must be taking in.
They’ve dressed the part of rich, middle-aged tourists. Mother’s linen pants are professionally pressed and spotless, her shoulder-length dark hair flowing softly around her face. Father’s polo shirt is appropriately expensive—as are the brand-name sunglasses perched on his head, covering some of his salt-and-pepper hair.
If I didn’t know them so well, I might think they were an attractive couple.
“I have to get to work,” Jared finally says, releasing me from the misery of being in the same room with him and them. “It was nice to meet you both.” He gives me a small smile and a nod but doesn’t have a chance to say anything further because Father speaks.
“We have to get together soon for dinner or drinks. Do you play golf?” He claps a hand on Jared’s upper back, like they’re already friends or something, and walks with him to the door.
Meanwhile, Mother is schmoozing with Mrs. Hale. She’s already helped herself to a cookie, and she’s savoring it and gushing about how amazing it is and how Mrs. Hale simply must share the recipe.
Poor Mrs. Hale, she hardly knows what’s hit her. She takes the compliments with a bright smile and flushing face. She’s already so much under Mother’s spell she thinks it’s her own idea to leave the shop and let the family do their catching up, and then she’s out the door, still smiling while she walks away.
Once Jared and Mrs. Hale are gone, I turn to the elephants in the room. Except they’re less like elephants and more like hyenas, eating their young and killing for sport.
“What do you want?” I ask from behind the cash register, putting the counter between us like it’ll protect me.