by Amelia Wilde
The sound of footsteps on marble is like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. I freeze, convinced that a statue of Jesus has come down from the cross and has come to life to punish us. I jerk back and the little statue slips from my grasp, and suddenly the whole chapel is echoing with the shattering crash. I hear Adam hiss, “oh shit, run” at the same time the shout of “who’s there?!” bounces crazily around me. Adam is already running, and I’m following him, but I’m not fast enough, and a hand closes on my upper arm, yanking me back…
And then I’m back on the rock again, but my heart is still thudding with wild, angry adrenaline. I grip his arms and push back as hard as I can, which is harder than I mean to because I’m getting so strong. Adam steps back, stumbling a little, and looks at me, shocked.
“No,” I tell him. No, I’m not telling. I’m yelling because how dare he? How fucking dare he?
“I’m sorry, I…” he trails off, and his fingers drift up to touch his lips, and without meaning to I mimic him, brushing my own fingers against the place where his lips just were, the heat from his kiss still warming me so that my cheeks are on fire. “I mean…” Adam clears his throat and a sharp edge enters his voice. “I’m not actually sorry for kissing you. I’m just sorry you didn’t like it.”
My eyes go wide. “You don’t know anything.”
“No,” he says evenly. “I clearly don’t.”
It’s that even tone that has me sputtering. I’m the one who’s supposed to play it cool. I’m the one who is unflappable. I don’t get rattled by anyone. And if I do slip up and let somebody bother me, it sure as shit isn’t going to be Adam Lane or Zeller or whatever the hell he calls himself these days.
“Don’t do that again,” I hiss at him.
Something flickers across his face, and then his eyes narrow. “Don’t worry, Reg,” he says, and I hate how right and normal my old nickname sounds on his lips. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
He turns before I think to ask what the hell he wants to do, but then I remind myself that he’s leaving soon, and anyway, I don’t care. I yank a hair tie off my wrist and savagely scrape my hair back into a pony-tail. As soon as I do, I regret it because without my hair hanging in my face, I have all too clear of a view of Adam’s back as he leaves me… again. “Go ahead!” I shout, hot anger choking the words out into an indignant sputter I’m not even sure he can hear. “Run away! That’s what you do best!” I bite my lip so hard to keep from shouting that I taste blood, but my lips taste like him and I can’t help it. “Asshole!” I yell out to his rapidly retreating back.
9
Adam
I walk back to the B&B. That’s my only option, since I’ve had half a six-pack and I can feel how drunk I am. Getting behind the wheel is a risk I’m not willing to take. I’m not that much of a fucker.
Or maybe I am, if the way Reggie is acting is any indication. It’s been a while since a woman has shouted that I’m an asshole as I’m trying to get out of the line of fire. In fact...no, that’s never happened before.
Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to kiss her. That was probably a bad idea. You don’t lose contact with someone–neglect contact with them, really–for years, and then try to kiss them on some fucking boulder outside the clubhouse at the country club, even if you’re drunk. Even if the lightning looks romantic as hell. Even if she’s looking at you like she might just forgive you someday.
My chest aches. I try to shake it off while I’m walking down the sidewalk. Downtown Reckless Falls, meet Adam Zeller, the prodigal son returned, only to be kicked out on his ass again by the one woman he never thought would actually hate him.
She actually hates me.
I rack my brain for the reason. Is it really just because I didn’t call? She didn’t call, either. It’s a small, ugly thought, and my mouth twists just thinking it. Although Reggie could stand to loosen up for once in her life. Not everything can be my fault. Two to tango, and all that jazz.
I stumble in through the front door of the B&B, which is dark and silent. It feels like this place is watching me come in. Probably the owners are watching, one way or another, so I straighten up and try not to look drunk off my ass. It almost works until I collide with one of those vase stands like they have in museums. There’s a nice vase on top of it that lends this place the classy look it has in the daylight. This vase is probably why it’s the most expensive B&B in Reckless Falls–that, plus the prime location halfway up Whaleback Mountain. I almost take out the vase. I do take out the stand, but I catch the vase on its way to the ground, just in time.
The thud of the stand hitting the floor shakes the entire damn B&B and I freeze, stifling the urge to turn around and run out the door again. All I want to do is drop the vase and run, but I’m a full-grown man. I’m allowed to be drunk. Plus, I’m trying not to wake everyone up. Still. Running sounds great right about now.
Well, fuck. Maybe Reggie did have a point. Shouting at me that I always run away. At least when it came to Reckless Falls, it seemed like a fucking pattern of mine.
I don’t know how long I’m frozen in place. Nobody moves on the upper floors, so maybe nobody cares about the vase, or the stand. Eventually I cradle the vase in one arm and reach down for the stand, right it, and then put the vase on it.
In the dark, I back away slowly, hands up, like Indiana Jones. It’s a long trip up the stairs. The only saving grace is that this B&B has gone out of its way to install phone-activated locks on all the doors to work with their personal app.
Beep. I’m in.
The room seems awfully fucking lonely. I’d take a few hours with Reggie hating me over this.
I laugh out loud. No. I’m not that pathetic.
Am I?
Doesn’t matter. What I am is drunk. What I am is tired. What I am is falling into the bed still wearing all my clothes and passing out.
There’s sunlight streaming in through the window next to my bed, which is what cruelly rips me from my sleep at an ungodly hour of the morning. My mouth tastes like stale beer and disappointment, though for a long few minutes I can’t remember what, exactly, I’m disappointed about.
Then it comes back to me. The reunion. Reggie. Reggie being so damn harsh with me over the fact that I didn’t call to check in for a measly nine years.
I throw myself out of bed and discover that I’m still wearing all my clothes. No way. The air conditioning is good at this place, but not that good. I strip off the clothes like there’s actually a woman here to be had and stumble into the bathroom. One glance in the mirror tells me no woman would be caught dead in here with me right now. Certainly not Reggie.
When I’m done brushing my teeth, the fog from last night comes rushing back. One tug of the curtains and the room is pleasantly dark again.
“Mr. Zeller?”
There’s a rapping on the door to my room, and it startles me from within my cocoon of blankets. Unlike the last time I woke up, I feel refreshed. One hundred percent.
“Yeah?” I sit upright in the bed and throw my legs over the side, moving toward the door like it’s going to stop her from bursting in if that’s what’s about to happen here. “Yeah. I’m here. I’m good.”
“O–okay,” says the voice from the other side.
It’s Xavier Tully, the owner of the B&B and yet another blast from the past. I have vague memories of his name, and better memories of the girl he was always hanging out with in high school, the one who went on to be in some big rock band or something. I would rather not spend any more time skipping down memory lane, so instead of being polite, I just keep the door shut and shout at him through it like an asshole.
“I’m good,” I repeat. I wonder if the cleaning crew already came in here and was surprised to find me. No idea. I slept the sleep of the dead.
Or the slightly hungover. Yes. I’m slightly hungover.
“I’m just here to check on you,” he says through the door. “It’s getting late in the afternoon.”
/> “I’m good,” I say again, running a hand through my hair. In fact, I’m more than fine. My chest doesn’t ache nearly as much from Reggie’s heartless rejection. In fact, it’s a good thing that she doesn’t want anything to do with me. That might be just enough to keep me anchored to Reckless Falls, and nobody on earth needs to be anchored to Reckless Falls. My father sure as hell didn’t, even if he pretended to be. “I’m doing very well,” I say. It’s probably overkill, but it convinces Xavier.
“I’m glad to hear it. Call the front desk if you need anything, all right?”
“Thank you,” I say, digging my phone from my pocket. His footsteps fade down the hallway. I’ve got some calls to make, and none of them are going to be to the front desk. “Let’s not rule anything out,” I say out loud, my veins humming with energy.
Item number one on my agenda: sell that damn house.
In order to that, I need a buyer. And in order to get a buyer, I need Cole Granger.
10
Regina
In two days’ time, the buzz of the reunion—and the kiss—has barely worn off. Walking from the lot across the street to Indigo, I barely notice the construction going on around me because my head is still filled with Adam.
Asshole.
I should have never let him kiss me. I mean, I did push him away, but… Not soon enough. Just like that moment in the chapel, his kiss was lingering far longer than it should. Throwing me off. Making me crazy. As I push the door open, I reach up and worriedly rub my lips. As if I can erase the memory from my skin.
“You okay there?”
I freeze. Of course Charlie has seen me pawing my mouth like a lunatic. Hastily, I lower my fist to my side, and straighten back up again. “Chapped,” I say, as if my issue is a moisture problem, and not a long-lost-best-friend-turned-thorn-in-my-side-kissing-me problem.
“You should try that medicated stuff I was showing you,” Charlie says, cocking her head worriedly. Did she always look at me like this? With that expression in her eyes like she was coddling an insane person? Or is this just a recent development?
“I’ll go pick some up, definitely,” I say, but I don’t have a clue what she is talking about. When did I say anything before about having chapped lips? Did we already have this conversation? I can’t remember. I’ve been too busy reliving the way Adam’s mouth felt against mine.
No question, I’m losing it.
I rush away from her before she has me committed, and hasten back to my locker to stash my purse. I look over my shoulder to see if she’s watching, then reach in my purse and slather my lips with a good coat of Chapstick for Charlie’s benefit. The little act of deception steadies me somewhat, and I take a deep breath, banishing Adam’s kiss from my brain. I don’t care, I remind myself. I have no feelings for Adam. He’s a part of my past, something that should have slid into the background a long time ago. No, did slide into the background a long time ago. What happened in the chapel, what happened after the chapel, that’s all water under the bridge, and I’ve made every attempt to move on with my life. I refuse to be stuck in the past.
But damn it, I wish the past would keep out of the present.
“Slow day so far,” one of the servers calls over to me as she saunters from the kitchen. It's the last week of August, the last gasp of the tourist season before the kids started heading back to school, and the empty tables look like gaps in a smile.
But I grin and put on a brave face. Shrugging, I tell her, “Might be nice to have one of those for once,” and then head out to my tables.
The chef at Indigo is this strange combination of genius and madman who loves sending out absolutely eccentric dishes to challenge his patrons’ taste buds. Today I find myself explaining to overfed tourists in windbreakers that the gazpacho is served in a shot glass because it’s meant to be downed in one gulp, and then warning skeptical hipsters of both the male and female variety to tie their hair back as I light their pie on fire.
Call me a sadist, but I really enjoy this sort of thing. The crazy shit the chef comes up with is the best part of my job.
“Excuse me?” A befuddled-looking bald man tugs on the sleeve of my black button-down blouse. “Miss?”
“How can I help you?” I sigh smoothly, already guessing his question. He’s ordered the salmon, which the chef insists on sending out with a bowlful of smoking woodchips under a glass dome.
It’s the bowl of woodchips that the man is staring at now. “Am I supposed to…?” He mimes stabbing a smoking chip with his fork, while his wife looks on, mortified.
“Sir, your server should have explained, I’m so sorry.” Deftly, I retrieve the smoking bowl, cupping it in my hand before clutching the handle of the glass dome with a flourish. “The chef wants you to experience his salmon with all of your senses, and that includes the aroma of hickory smoke.”
From behind me, I can hear the front door whoosh open. Today has been slow enough that the arrival of more patrons is something I’m acutely in tune with. Idly, I wonder who it will be—flush big spenders, or penny-pinching vacationers scraping it together for one fancy meal—before turning back to the befuddled-looking man.
“Lean back, sir,” I urge him. He watches me warily, his high forehead a mass of worried lines, as I whip the glass dome off the smoking chips and waft the bowl under his nose. “Inhale the smoke before taking a bite of the salmon to enhance your experience.”
His eyebrows zoom upward, and his wife claps her hands with a happy little, “Ah!” I smile and give them a slight bow before executing a half turn away from them.
A slow-motion shiver marches up my spine before making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Fucking hell,” I sigh when I see him, and the feel of my own exhalation on my lips awakens the memory of his kiss all over again.
Adam’s blond head is bent down as he leans in with both elbows on the table, sitting across from the guy I recognize as being one of the main developers in town. Why the hell is Adam talking to a Reckless Falls big shot like Cole Granger? The guy is practically Mayor, almost religious in his love for this stupid place. Adam hates it here. I would have thought he’d be gone by now, his back the last thing I saw of him...again. That would have been the most poetic way for us to part ways, but here he is again, sitting in my restaurant with a half hour left in my shift and nowhere for me to hide.
My hands go back up to my mouth, brushing my lips obsessively.
“Seriously,” Charlie says as she passes. “Try the medicated staff, it’s a fucking miracle.”
“Yeah, it is,” I say, staring at Adam. “A fucking miracle.”
11
Adam
For a guy who was never going to come back to Reckless Falls, just like me, Cole Granger sure fits in here.
Sitting across the table from him at Indigo, he looks happy. Confident. Like he doesn’t mind being surrounded by all these small-town minds. I’m not a huge fan, and the city pricks at the back of my mind. I’d be happier in the city, probably. It would mean not ever seeing Reggie again, but what’s there to lose with her? Nothing. She wants nothing to do with me, and the sooner I sell my asshole father’s house, the sooner I can get away again, back to where I belong.
Back to where I thought Cole Granger belonged, too. Last I heard, he was employed at a firm in the city. We didn’t see each other much, not in Manhattan, but I guess that’s because he moved back here. He’s telling me about the development he constructed on the old Melton Marina.
“…so, the city council’s got a concert series going at the gazebo on Thursday nights, and all the shops love it. People buy ice cream for hours. Everybody loves it.”
I can’t help but snort a laugh. “People here would love it.” They would. This place is frozen in time. It’s how I feel when I look at Reggie, and after how fucking badly she reacted to that kiss, I’m over feeling that way. I don’t want to go back, no matter how intoxicating she was back in that chapel. No matter how much her eyes draw me in and make me wan
t to kiss the beauty mark on her cheekbone until she laughs and gives up her secrets.
A frown flickers across Cole’s face, but he just leans back in his seat. “So, what’s the big emergency?”
It’s different, talking to him now, but not that different. Cole was always good for a prank. I’m sure he felt the same high I did from pulling off something stupid and reckless, but nobody could ever top the time with the cow. They needed a crane to get it out of the third floor of the high school.
I clear my throat. “My father’s property. I need to sell it.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “The entire estate?”
It makes my stomach turn just thinking about it. What a fucking showoff. My father had a big house on a big, sprawling piece of property, and he always wanted it to be picture-perfect. He was just playing at being a rich man. Now that I actually am one, I know you don’t need to brag about it the way he did. “Yeah.” The laugh that comes out of my mouth is a bitter one. “I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea about what?” There’s no mischievous sparkle in Cole’s eyes now.
“I wouldn’t want them to think I’m holding onto it for sentimental reasons.” I shake my head. “I don’t give a shit what happens to that place. Turn it into a bunch of condos. Sell it to assholes from the city. I don’t care.”