by Lili Valente
“No, it’s not.” I shake my head, still having a hard time believing she’s serious. “And I won’t lie about someone to the police.”
“District attorney,” she corrects me.
“Or the district attorney or anyone else! That’s against the law, Eloise. And Kevin is a person, not a piece of garbage you can have taken away.”
“Don’t mock me, Adeline,” she says, her voice hard. “You have a choice to make. Either take the necessary steps to eliminate the threat you’ve introduced into my life, or remove yourself from it. I made a promise to your father when you were a girl, little miss, but you’re not a girl anymore.” Her thin lip curls. “And I’m beginning to believe I’ve indulged your eccentricities long enough.”
My jaw drops so hard the joint cracks. “My eccentricities? Mine? This from the woman who sent me to buy sheep’s cheese that’s deliberately infected with maggots?”
“It’s a delicacy,” she says, her spine going stiff.
“It’s illegal in the United States, Eloise. And maggots. Maggots!”
“I suppose I can’t blame you for your lack of sophistication,” she says, mouth pruning again. “I knew what I was in for when I hired a teenager from the middle of nowhere, New Jersey, to be my companion. No matter how intelligent you were alleged to be, I should have known a girl who lied to her parents and—”
“No!” I point a shaking finger at her spiteful face. “You don’t get to tell me who I am or what I’m worth. I decide those things. And I’ve decided that I quit. Right now.”
“What?” Eloise sputters, her eyes growing comically wide. “You can’t quit! You haven’t given two weeks notice. Who’s going to read the paper? You know Mina doesn’t know a word of English.”
“You should have thought about that before you were terrible,” I say, heading for the front door instead of to my room to pack my things. Now that I’ve finally decided to leave, I can’t wait another moment. I need to be out of this house, away from the stale, Eloise-tainted air. Out in snow where the crisp winter day still has possibilities left in it. “I’ll send someone to pick up my things.”
“You will not!” Eloise wheels out from behind the table, moving swiftly under her own power for the first time in recent memory, proving she isn’t nearly as frail as she pretends to be. “I will not have you sending strangers to my home! I’ll toss your belongings out on the stoop first.”
“Then toss away.” I storm into the foyer, throwing open the hall closet. “Or I’ll pay Mina to take my things to Shane’s place. Whichever gives you the most miserable pleasure, Eloise, because Lord knows that’s what you’re all about, isn’t it?”
“Terrible!” Eloise rolls into the foyer, stopping with one hand pressed to her heart. “Terrible, terrible girl! How dare you? After all I’ve done for you!”
I shrug my coat on and wrap my scarf around my neck with swift whips of my arm. “You’re right. After all you’ve done, I have no idea why it took you threatening an innocent man to make me leave. I guess it proves that I worry more about other people than I do myself. But that stops now. I deserve kindness, too, Eloise. I deserve an employer who offers a kind word now and then, or who at least remembers that I’m allergic to shellfish before ordering a potentially lethal Christmas dinner for the third year in a row.”
Eloise makes a bleating sound, but I don’t let her get a word in.
“But then, you probably did that on purpose, didn’t you?” A laugh bursts from my chest as I hook my purse over my shoulder and dig inside for my keys. “Just for the fun of seeing me puff up like a balloon when I took a bite of macaroni and cheese before realizing there was lobster in it.”
I find my key ring and pop the key to Eloise’s apartment free from the rest, holding it up in the air between us. “Well, I hope that was enjoyable for you, but I’m removing myself from the ‘people you get to bully’ list. Good bye, Eloise.” I drop the key to the carpet, then spin and slam out the door, ignoring her shrill demand that I come back and explain myself.
I think I’ve explained myself just fine.
And with every step I take toward the elevator, I feel lighter, freer, and…angrier. Angry at Eloise, at my family, and at Nate for getting to walk away from me without a scratch, while every dream I had withered and died.
I’m angry at myself, too—self-hatred is a hobby I’ve indulged in for too long to give it up cold turkey—but this new anger I’ve let out of its cage is hot enough to make me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. I’m so fired up that I skip the elevator and pound down the stairs to the lobby, feeling like I’ll explode if I don’t burn up some of the energy.
I burst through the doors and storm past Aaron at the desk, not bothering to respond to his call for me to have a nice day.
It won’t be a nice day, but it’s going to be a memorable one. It’s the first day of the rest of my life, and damn it, I’m going to do something to mark the occasion.
Whipping my phone from my purse, I jab out a quick text to Shane.
Is that room you double-booked still available? If you haven’t found someone to take it yet, I would love to. Turns out I’m able to get five days off in a row, after all.
Shane and Jake—being Shane and Jake—both booked a surprise trip for their first Valentine’s Day together, which meant deciding between five days at a sprawling Victorian lodge in the Catskills or seven days in Paris. Paris won, and Shane and Jake are headed to the airport later today.
But Shane is an early riser, and I’m not surprised when my phone pings a few seconds later.
It’s available! I’ll email the details now! Yay, I’m so excited for you! Did Eloise get visited by the ghosts of Valentine’s Day past last night or something? How on earth did you get her to give you a real vacation?
Setting off down the street toward the subway to Queens, where I remember seeing a place offering affordable rental cars during one of my many obscure-food-hunting missions, I type a reply.
She didn’t. I quit. I walked out a few minutes ago with my purse, coat, and nothing else. I’m going to ask Mina to pack my things and drop them at your place, if that’s okay. If you can pay her for her trouble, I’ll pay you back. I’m sorry to be a bother, but I couldn’t stay there another minute.
My phone starts to ring almost immediately, but I don’t answer Shane’s call. She’ll want to talk, and I can’t right now. I can’t do anything but keep going, keep moving, keep running until I get away from the sad, small, shadowed life I’ve been living. Far enough away that I can look in the mirror and see someone other than a girl who messed up her life and let it stay that way.
I text Shane one last time: Thank you so much for everything, but I can’t talk. Not yet. Then I turn off my phone.
I’m lucky to have a friend like Shane, but right now I need to be on my own, just me and my thoughts and a ninety-mile drive to a place that’s hopefully far enough away that I’ll be able to figure out what happens next.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nate
I’m no stranger to going to extremes for my work.
A few years ago, I lived in an igloo for a month while researching an article on social media detox. I slept with pack dogs to stay warm, peed in a tin can to avoid going outside in minus-forty-degree temperatures, and slowly went sane as Internet withdrawal gave way to an enlightening experience about how rich time becomes when you spend it wisely. Then there was the week I ate nothing but insects as a promotional stunt for a book I co-wrote on combatting world hunger, the month I lived on frequent flier miles, the gig as a professional castle-sitter, and my many trips to the creepiest corners of the world in search of inspiration for my annual volume of short fiction, Fear, in Brief.
For years, I’ve cobbled together a career writing this and that, drafting first and praying later that there would be a market for “You Probably Think This Article is About You: Narcissism in the Digital Age.”
Now, I finally have a contract, a fat advance, and eighteen months
to spend writing and researching Faking It: Living Lies, Getting By, and Seeing How Far Moxie will Really Take You. I’ve already faked my way through a week as a stockbroker, ten days as a lion handler, a weekend as a motivational speaker to Nine Lifers—people who believe they are reincarnations of ancient Egyptian cats. For real. These people exist and are allowed to vote, own guns, and stand next to you in the line at Starbucks—and another month-long stint as a tattoo artist.
Compared to inking a permanent mistake on someone’s body, or being mauled to death by lions, helping people get revenge on their evil exes should be a piece of cake. And my first fake boyfriend gig for Magnificent Bastard Consulting was pretty damned easy. I helped a sweet older woman get back at the man who’d broken her heart—and stolen priceless pieces of art from her collection—and walked away with ten grand and a surprising sense of well-being.
I should have quit as soon as the job wrapped, and gotten busy drafting. My research is done, and it’s time to make the damned words. But turns out writing long form non-fiction isn’t nearly as much fun as the horror novels I’ve been penning and not selling for the past few years. And that damned “getting one over on the bad guy” thing sucked me in.
Working as an intervention expert at MBC was the first fake job that left me feeling good. And who doesn’t like to feel good, like the work you’re doing is more meaningful than a gimmick to sell a book you’re not that excited about writing in the first place?
So I signed on for another case.
And another, figuring I could fit my writing in around helping people in need.
And now, four months later, my word count is in the shitter, and I’m headed to a mountain lodge with a lovely gentleman who insists I’m going to make his evil ex, Max, eat his heart out with envy. I’m not so sure—I’m not gay, haven’t patted another guy’s ass since I gave up football after high school, and have zero experience pretending to be in love with another dude.
Chances are I’m going to let Eduardo down in a spectacular fashion. Faking it until you make it is all well and good, but I might as well have “colorblind straight guy” tattooed on my forehead. Even with wardrobe help from Ed, I’m going to be hard pressed to convince anyone I’m batting for the other team, especially a guy like Max, who’s been in intimate relationships with men for longer than I’ve been alive.
Eduardo’s ex is going to see right through me, and these five days away from my computer and piece of shit Chapter Five—fuck you, Chapter Five, you fucking eternal pain in my ass—will have been for nothing.
Add in the fact that this is the first time I’ve been back to the Catskills since Addie and I spent that last, magical day together at Yankee Lake and I’m as far from cool and collected as I’ve been in years. I’m closer to “Hot Fucking Mess,” which is hardly the Magnificent Bastard Eduardo requested.
“Relax, cupcake.” Ed claps me on the back as I take the turn leading up to Tomahawk Mountain House, the luxury resort where we’ll be spending a long Valentine’s Day weekend. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one putting you at ease?” I ask, willing my fingers to relax their death grip on the wheel.
“I don’t need to be put at ease. I just need to see the look on Max’s face when I walk into the dining room with you on my arm while you’re wearing those jeans.” Ed rubs his perfectly manicured hands together with a wicked laugh. He’s nearly as tall as my six feet two, with the barrel-chested build common in some older men, but his polished appearance and head full of black hair make him look younger than fifty-five. “If he doesn’t turn puce with envy, I’ll eat my body weight in that hideous hair gel he invented.”
“Puce,” I echo with a smile. “Much nastier than green.”
“Oh, it is, doll face. It’s going to be uuuugly. You’re exactly his type—dark hair, strong jaw, and cheekbones a supermodel would sell her kidneys for. Honest to God, you’re almost as handsome as I was when I was your age.”
I laugh. “Thanks, man.”
He tsks. “No ‘man’ or ‘dude.’ Too bro-mancy. Just call me Ed, or Eddie.”
I nod, anxiety creeping back in to tighten my shoulders. “Right. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Prince Charming, I know this is your first time running the game with a mister instead of a sister. I’m not expecting you to medal in the Rainbow Olympics your first time out.”
“I appreciate that.” I ease off the gas, slowing as the road winds higher through dense forests of evergreens and patches of ice begin to dot the pavement.
“And like I said yesterday,” Eduardo continues. “Max and I are from another generation. Back when we were starting our adventure, it wasn’t always safe for two men to show affection in public. And we’re going to a mountain lodge, not a gay bar, for Christ’s sake. A little hand holding and a few steamy looks will be enough to convince Max you’re my new honeybun, no bumping and grinding on the dance floor required.” He nudges my shoulder with a gentle fist. “So, is that enough pep talk, doll? Feeling better yet?”
“Much better, thanks. And I promise I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
Eduardo hums appreciatively beneath his breath. “How on Earth have you managed to stay single, Nathaniel? Sweet as pie and easy on the eyes? I would think the ladies would be oiling up to bikini wrestle in the kiddie pool for a guy like you.”
“I move around a lot,” I say with a laugh, because it’s easier than admitting that I suck at relationships. That I always have. Except for that one summer, and who knows how that would have turned out. It probably would have ended badly.
Addie and I were too fucking young. Too young to know what love really was, let alone how to make it last.
“And I’m not always so well put together,” I add with a self-deprecating grin. “Thank you again for supplying my wardrobe.”
“One of the perks of having friends in the fashion industry, doll. Besides, Max knows I’m too vain to allow my beautiful boy toy to run around in something off the rack.” Ed shudders, presumably at the thought of wearing retail. “Though it’s a shame we have to cover so much of you up. Have I mentioned that I hate winter? Skiing is Max’s thing. I’m a beach and mojito man myself.”
He reaches out to crank up the heat. The higher we go, the colder the air gets, making me glad the rest of my Eduardo-selected clothes are as warm as the gray cashmere sweater, Egyptian cotton button-down, and flannel-lined jeans I’m wearing. He’s outfitted me for everything from skiing, to winter hiking, to hanging around the lodge drinking hot cocoa and looking good on his arm. I’ve got more luggage in the trunk than my mother and sister bring when they come to visit for a long weekend.
“What about you? Sand or snow? What’s your pleasure?” Ed asks, but before I can confess I’m a fan of winter, he gasps and points a finger at the road ahead, where a slender woman in a dark coat is wrestling a tire out of the trunk of her car.
“Oh, the poor thing.” Eduardo lays a hand on my forearm. “She must be freezing to death. Take it from a man who’s spent his share of time in drag, sheer pantyhose do nothing to hold in body heat. We should pull over and help the lamb before she gets frostbite.”
I had already planned to stop, but it’s good to know that Eduardo is as nice as he seems. It makes me even more determined to give this intervention my A game and teach his piece of shit ex that cheating on your spouse while trying to stage a hostile takeover of his hair salon empire doesn’t pay.
I pull to the side of the road in front of the woman’s beat up Chevy and shove the car into park. Before I can turn the key, Eduardo leans in to whisper, “This means you’re on, doll. There isn’t much else on this godforsaken mountain, so I’m guessing our damsel in distress is headed up to the lodge. We don’t want to blow our cover before we get there.”
“Got it. I’m in hopelessly devoted mode, Ed,” I say with a wink. “From now until the day we head home, bathed in victory and Maxwell’s tears.”
Eduardo laughs.
“Oh, I love it! I’m usually a shower man, but I can’t wait to soak in a big vat of those.” He’s still chuckling as we get out of the car and turn to the woman waving a gloved hand in our direction.
“Hey,” she says, relief clear in her high, sweet, way too fucking familiar voice. “I’m headed to the lodge, but my spare is flat, and I…”
Her words trail off as her gaze connects with mine. Our eyes meet, and her jaw drops, her lips forming a horrified O that makes it clear she isn’t glad to see me.
But why the hell would she be?
Still, I can’t help being happy to see her. More than happy. She takes my fucking breath away, the way she always did. Looking into her shining blue eyes, it feels like no time has passed, like I’m still that stupid kid who believed forever fell into your lap and love was meant to be easy. I take one look at her and Adeline happens to me all over again, the way she did before.
Except this time, she hates me.
Fuck, she hates me, and I hate that she hates me.
I have to explain. I have to apologize. I have to make her believe that I never intended to break my promises or her heart.
My lips part, but before any words can find their way out into the cold air, Eduardo hurries around me with his arms outstretched. “There, there, no need to cry, sweetheart. I’m Eduardo and this is my boyfriend, Nate, and we’re happy to give you a ride to the lodge. We’re staying there, too!” He pulls Addie into his arms, hiding her face in his chest as he murmurs, “Don’t worry, precious. We’re going to save the day and get you in out of the cold. Isn’t that right, Prince Charming?”
Fuck me again.
Eduardo is right. Until this job is done, I’m his Prince Charming, and explaining myself to Addie, begging for forgiveness, or telling her that she’s even more beautiful than I remembered are all off the table.
“That’s right.” I force the words out through a throat so tight it feels like I’m getting a hug from a boa constrictor.