Without Promises (Under the Pier)

by Delancey Stewart

  I was sad to lose the freedom I’d enjoyed and the time I spent outdoors in this beautiful city. I’d be trading sunshine and wide-open roads for libraries, labs, and lecture halls.

  “It will be worth it,” Amber assured me when she came by the house late Wednesday evening for a glass of wine and to deliver something. “It’s a lot of work, but you knew that going in. You’ll be awesome.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Not the work so much, but the doctor part. I feel like there’s a certain level of respect you earn as a doctor that I’ll never get in any other field.”

  Amber leaned back on the couch and scrunched her nose up as she thought. “Maybe. But I think plenty of the doctors you call on now respect you a lot.”

  “I’m a salesperson.” I’d hated that aspect of my job for years. “When I tell people what I do, they act like I’m going door to door selling vacuum cleaners or knives or something. I know I shouldn’t care what people think…” I fiddled with the little heart pendant I was wearing around my neck.

  “We all care what people think.” She sipped her wine and put the glass down on the table. “People think I’m a horrible person because I left my marriage, and now Jack has to split his time between me and his dad.”

  “That was the right thing to do.” Amber had told me about her marriage, and she was better off out of it.

  She shrugged off the words, and her eyes drifted to my hand at my neck. “New necklace,” she said, a question in her voice.

  “Trent.” I nodded. A gift had been delivered almost every day since we’d been to the races—flowers, a silver horse-racing frame with our photo inside, and this necklace.

  Amber leaned forward and took the little heart in her fingers, inspecting it. “This is gorgeous,” she said. “The engagement might be fake, but I’m pretty sure this is real.” She dropped the little silver heart back into place around my neck and shook her head. It may have been platinum—with a bright clear stone set in one side. I hadn’t thought it was a diamond, but Amber’s words made me consider it. That wouldn’t surprise me. Trent tended to go all out. It had been delivered in a blue Tiffany box by a young woman who might have worked at the store. She hadn’t worn a delivery uniform, that was for sure. The card had said, “Because you’ll be looking after peoples’ hearts.”

  “Okay, so…” Amber started, casting her eyes to the side as if she was about to tread carefully around some sticky subject. “What exactly is going on with this whole fake engagement thing?”

  As if I know.

  I shook my head. “It is what it is. We were at dinner at his parents’ house, and he got steamrolled by his mom, and it just popped out.”

  “So you have to go along with it?” She looked confused.

  “Going along with it was kind of my idea.”

  “Any relationship based around a lie is bound to be a great one, sure.” Amber took a gulp of her wine after delivering this sarcastic gem.

  “Thanks for that.” I smiled and shook my head. “It’s not a relationship, per se, anyway.”

  She leaned forward and gave me a stern look. “What exactly is it?”

  “Why do we have to define everything?”

  “Because that’s what people do.”

  “It’s casual.”

  “You’re wearing a super-casual diamond around your neck and sitting next to a really casual adorable picture of the two of you.” Amber pressed her hands to her temples and rubbed lightly. “It’s not casual, Amy.”

  I looked at the photo Trent had sent me. I was grinning into the camera, looking almost unfamiliar to myself. I wasn’t a grinner, usually. Trent was laughing and looking at me, his strong, sexy jaw on prominent display, and there was a look in his eyes that I had to agree wasn’t especially casual. But intensity was a thing in sexual relationships, I told myself. We are just intense. Intensely casual.

  I shrugged. “It is what it is. I don’t know that we have to define it, and I don’t really think I have to defend it.”

  “As long as you understand what it is. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Amber’s eyes softened as she spoke. “You know this is crazy, right?”

  “Yeah.” I finished my wine. “It is crazy. But for now, it’s working for us.” Mostly.

  “Keep me posted,” she said, sounding more than a little skeptical as she gathered her things and moved toward the door. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She dropped her huge purse to the floor again and leaned down to dig through it for something. She pulled a little square box out and handed it to me.

  I adored gifts, which I’d mentioned to Trent, and was probably why he was going a little overboard. The mere potential represented by a shiny wrapped box got my heart beating—it didn’t really matter what was inside. Dani and I had learned the art of gift giving from Nan, and we still practiced it often. “Thank you,” I said, holding the adorably wrapped box.

  Amber clucked and shifted her weight, watching me admire the box. “Please open it before I age any more.”

  I pulled off the ribbon and paper to reveal a set of anatomical heart coasters, cross-sections of the heart set in glass with the name Dr. Hodge etched beneath each one. “You don’t think this will jinx me, do you?”

  She shook her head and grinned. “They’re a study aid,” she pointed out. “So you don’t forget stuff while you’re drinking.”

  “How useful,” I agreed, smiling back. “Thank you.” I pulled her into a hug, and we stood there for a minute.

  “All right, you.” She picked up her bag again and turned to go. “Keep me posted.”

  As I was falling asleep that night, my phone dinged with a text from Trent. He’d been so busy in his first few days working for his dad at McNeil that I hadn’t really gotten to speak to him.

  Trent: How are you?

  Me: Good. How was your day?

  Trent: Long. Good.

  Me: Learning critical management techniques?

  Trent: No, but I did learn where Rebecca keeps the good coffee stashed in the kitchen at work.

  I cringed inwardly at the mention of Rebecca. I didn’t want to be bothered that Trent was spending his days with his ex, but images of long blond hair and longer legs didn’t help.

  Me: That’s good.

  Trent: I miss you.

  Me: Me too. Thank you for the beautiful necklace.

  Trent: I hope you like it.

  Me: It’s perfect. You don’t have to send gifts every day. You know that, right?

  Trent: Maybe I’m wooing you.

  Me: I don’t think you woo in a casual fling-type relationship.

  Trent: I’m not sure there are rules for this fiancée fuck-buddy thing we’ve got going on.

  Me: Maybe not.

  I couldn’t help smiling. There was something genuine and good about Trent that always made me feel like the world was less complicated. And now, in the dark empty house where I lay quietly in my bed, Trent’s simple view of things felt like the right view.

  Dani was at Rob’s, and I’d spent part of the evening worrying about my relationship with her, about whether her increasing time at Rob’s place might have to do with the tension between us over my mention of the house’s value. But Trent had made me see it his way. Dani was in love with Rob. Of course she’d want to spend time at his place. It wasn’t about me at all.

  Me: Good night.

  Trent: Good night, gorgeous. See you Friday?

  Me: Still on.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Trent

  I am officially a suit-wearing monkey. And like I’d told Amy and the guys at the station, I’d known this day would come. Hell, how else could I explain the fact that I had a row of tailored suits and shiny shoes taking up space in the closet in my guest room?

  The three-thousand-dollar suits were one more link in the chain my parents held, binding me to the life they had planned for me. They’d been hanging in that closet like my parents’ silent minions, waiting for the day I’d be forced to bring them out and mar
ch them around. And that day has arrived.

  As I had walked into McNeil Management the first day, I was surprised to find myself both nervous and a little giddy. I’d watched my dad don a suit and march off to work my whole life, so maybe it made sense that part of me felt like I’d dropped a puzzle piece into its proper place, like this was what was meant to happen. But I resented it, too. The people I passed in the long glass-walled hallways, sitting behind desks out in the open areas? They had chosen to be here. I’d been bullied into showing up.

  “Trent,” Dad said, rising from behind his mahogany desk and actually coming around to shake my hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.” I sat in a chair across from him, feeling stiff in my starched shirt and tie.

  There was another thing hounding me, one I didn’t want to admit to, one that was making every touch of the suit feel like a brand, a bad memory I couldn’t escape. The humiliation and shame I still felt as a result of the last time I’d worked here—the time when I’d come to Dad’s office eagerly, hoping to make myself into a younger version of him, the man I’d always looked up to. That summer had been a failure, and I’d had to give up the dream of ever making my dad proud once I’d bungled the deal he’d entrusted to me.

  “I’ve set you up just down the hall next to Rebecca,” Dad was saying. “We’ve got a status meeting in about an hour, and I’ll introduce you to your team and get you going on the projects we’ve chosen for you.”

  “I just walked in the door, Dad. Not sure I’m ready to be in charge of anything beyond managing not to spill coffee on myself and maybe getting my email set up.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow at me and gave me what looked like a disappointed smile. Surprise. You’ve already let him down. “We’ve got a lot going on here, T.” His voice had lowered, and he looked tired suddenly, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening, his eyes suddenly glassier. He sank into the chair at my side and faced me. I was surprised to watch the all-business Dad persona falter.

  “I didn’t force you down here out of some messed-up idea that I’m in charge of your life. We’ve talked about you coming in for years, and as much as I hate to admit it, I need you. I need help.” He leaned back into the deep chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “Being here all the time? It’s exhausting. I’m beat, and I’m worried that if I don’t back off, I’ll be leaving Elyse on her own with your mother, and that wouldn’t be good for either of them. I need to get you in here, to put this place in the hands of someone I trust, so I can spend more time at home. Maybe I can get your sister back on track somehow.”

  That was the most honest thing Dad had ever said to me, and it was definitely the first time he’d ever admitted that things at home weren’t perfect. It surprised me. I watched him through new eyes, seeing the form of a man—a tired and sick man—instead of the pillar of heroism that had always been my father.

  “Sure, Dad.” This new man worried me a little, though I didn’t want to admit it. Having my dad be a bulletproof hero had allowed me to think about other things, to go on living the life I wanted. I can’t screw this up again. “What time did you say this meeting was?”

  He straightened, checked his watch. “About forty-five minutes. Let me show you your office.”

  I followed him down the long hallway to a broad, sunny office, a smaller version of his. It was more than I merited. I wonder how those guys in the cubicles feel about my promotion from bar manager to office-holding executive? I didn’t get much time to think about it, because as soon as I’d hung up my jacket, Rebecca Stone appeared in the doorway holding a stack of folders in front of her.

  “Trent.” She smiled, coming into my office and nodding a hello to Dad. “I’m so glad you’re here. I hope it’s all right that I’ll be the one to brief you on the accounts.”

  I smiled. “That’s totally fine. Maybe you’ll have more patience with me, since you already know I’m a fuckup.” I’m an idiot, and I doubt I’ll be any help at all. I missed the solid weight of my turnout gear on my body, the capability I felt when I approached the physically demanding work of fighting fires. I could do that. But this? I had no idea what to expect, and my only experience in this world told me I’d fuck it up.

  “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk, T,” Dad said, pausing at my door as he turned to go. “You’ve got a team to manage here. If you doubt yourself, they’ll doubt you. What happens at the station if you don’t trust your team?”

  Is he serious? It was the first time he’d acknowledged the work I did for the fire department as if it had any merit at all. I shook my head lightly. “Things fall apart. People get hurt.”

  “And the same thing happens here—maybe in a less dramatic fashion.” He turned and left, but his message hit home. It was similar, I supposed. You don’t let your guys see your fear. And maybe more importantly, you don’t let your fear own you. I swallowed and turned to look at Rebecca, indicating the table in the corner where we could sit and go through the files she’d brought.

  “We’ll start with this stuff,” she said. “And then I’ll walk you through the file servers and show you how to find everything you’ll need online.”

  We sat down across from each other, and she pulled three folders off the pile, placed them between us, and then paused to look up at me. “Hey,” she said, her voice softer than it had been. Her eyes were wide and blue, and her blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, making her look younger than she had the other night. “I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding. At your parents’ place.” She dropped my gaze. “That was really embarrassing, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said automatically.

  “It’s not. And I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and embarrassed, and I wish you and Amy the best.”

  “Thanks.”

  She shifted in her seat and shrugged a little. “I just…your mom told me…” She trailed off and looked uncertain, biting one corner of her lip.

  “There’s no point trying to figure out why my mom does and says the things she does. She’s got her own little Trudy agenda. She’s been trying to line up all the pieces of my life since I was six,” I told her. “I’m sorry she pushed you into it.”

  “I was excited to see you again,” Rebecca said, her voice taking on a firmer tone, creeping toward what I imagined was her professional voice. “And it was nice to see you, either way. I’m glad you’re coming to work.”

  I looked up at her, this girl I’d once known intimately who was now a poised and accomplished professional. I think Mom and I both had the wrong idea about who Rebecca Stone might be now. “Thanks,” I said. “It’s good to see you again, too.”

  We got to work then, interrupting the orientation to attend the status meeting where I was introduced to my team. By the end of the day, my head was spinning, and I was surprised to find that I was actually beginning to be excited about the work I was going to be doing. I left the office, stopping by Dad’s desk first.

  “How’d it go?” he asked, the lines around his eyes deeper than they had been that morning.

  “Good, I think,” I said. Still, the nervous worry hadn’t gone away, and I felt the uncomfortable pricks of doubt in my gut. “I guess Rebecca will give you her version when I go.” My fear twisted inside me as I said the words. If I fail my father again, I’ll never be able to look at myself in a mirror. Every fear I had about who I really was, what I was—or wasn’t—capable of would come true. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Dad smiled but didn’t refute my last statement. “Have a good night, Trent.” Dad looked down at his desk and then seemed to remember something. “Oh, hey,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Tell Amy your mom and I say hello. We’d really like to see her at the house again soon.”

  It was nice of him to say that, and I knew he didn’t have to. The strange thing was that he sounded sincere about it. I gave him a grin and nodded, turning to head out. No chance I’ll drag Amy up there again.

  Chap
ter Eighteen

  Amy

  Trent wasn’t joking about the wooing. During the first week he spent at the office, he seemed to feel like buying gifts would make up for not spending actual time together. He was worried about doing well at work, or I guessed he was, based on the fact that he said he had to spend the first few evenings buried in spreadsheets and accounting for the properties that were his responsibility as he got up to speed.

  I missed him more than I wanted to admit—missed his clear brown eyes and the steady security I felt when he was near—but all I had to do was look around at the floral arrangements, food deliveries, and other things that had arrived in his absence to feel assured he was thinking about me.

  The constant arrival of deliveries had me off-balance. All of the things Trent sent were nice—some were way too nice, like the Jimmy Choo bag I absolutely couldn’t accept. I just wasn’t sure where all these things fit into our agreement to keep everything casual. A Jimmy Choo bag was far from casual, at least in my world.

  “What the hell?” Dani said, stepping into the house Friday after spending most of the week at Rob’s house. “Are you starting a side hustle as a florist?” She spun around the living room, hair wild as always, and her eyes wide as she took in not two, not three, but four arrangements that had been delivered this week.

  An uncomfortable guilt rose inside me, as if I’d demanded all of this, as if I was the kind of girl who counted the value of relationships by what I could get out of them. “Trent,” I said by way of explanation.

  Dani grinned, her eyes shining as she looked at me. “He’s completely smitten, Aims. Look at this; it’s insane.” She wandered the living room, fingering tulips and roses, dipping her nose into the flowers and inhaling, that silly smile never leaving her face. With her nose still stuffed in a trio of white lilies, she looked sideways at me. “Why do you look sick?”

  “This is not casual. This is way too much,” I said, verbalizing the weird guilt rising in me the best way I could.

  “Why? Do you think there are strings attached?” She dropped a hand on my shoulder as she walked past where I sat at our small round table and moved to the refrigerator.