by Claire Adams
I stuck myself in a doorway where I could see her, but easily escape any conversation that came my way. Watching Corsica charm entire swathes of the room gave way to a wild fantasy. What if I just gave her all my money? I could disappear back into the wilderness and keep growing my company off the grid, just the way I liked it. She would probably create some amazing charity or scholarship and change the lives of countless kids with pasts like hers. Corsica could probably take my money and find a cure for cancer.
I kept reminding myself that the point of my daydream was that I was better off alone. I loved being alone. It didn't matter that twice that evening I overheard people talking about me as a confirmed bachelor or an eccentric solitary.
I tried to focus on the next trip I would take and how all of this pretentiousness and show would drop away as soon as I was outside.
That's why I loved camping. All the weight of other people's expectations, jealousies, and influences just fell away when I was out in the wilderness. Except for Corsica.
I'd practically fallen off a sheer cliff face because all I could think about was her. I hated to think what would happen on my next trip out. I would probably stumble off the trail and die from some horribly amateur accident, like a broken ankle.
"You should smile before people think you've gone feral." Alicia sidled up to me and slipped her hand through the crook of my elbow.
I refused to smile and tried to shake her off, but it didn't matter.
"What a lovely couple."
"Oh, what a dream wedding that would be." The older women sighed happily as they nodded to us and walked by.
"Alicia," a man's voice boomed behind us. "I was hoping you'd introduce me to your gentleman."
I couldn't escape. Alicia made the introductions, despite my curt nod. I had lost sight of Corsica, and it made my chest tighten. Still, I was trapped by Alicia and her upper echelon heiress status. I could practically see dollar signs in everyone's eyes as they smiled at us.
"So, you've finally met the one that can save you from bachelorhood, eh, Penn?" the man asked.
"What? Who?"
"Alicia, of course. She's your perfect match. No worries about uneven financials."
"Donald is my family's accountant," Alicia reminded me again.
I shook her arm off mine. "What do bank accounts have to do with being a good couple?"
She gave me an icy smile. "You can't be serious, Penn. Donald could point out dozens of marriages on the rocks in this very room due to financial strain. If one partner has all the money, there is never any peace in the relationship. Am I right, Donald?"
Donald took a hearty sip of his wine. "Not that you two would have to worry about that. Smooth sailing for you two. And, such a good-looking couple."
"So, that's it?" I snapped. "That's the secret to a happy relationship-even bank accounts and good looks?"
"Or one partner has all the looks and the other one all the money. Right?" Donald laughed at his own joke.
"Really, Penn," Alicia said quietly to me. "Can you even imagine if you continued seeing that girl? Now she knows how much money you have, and she's going to start wanting things, things that you have to buy for her."
I shook my head. Corsica was determined to make her own way. It's part of what I loved most about her.
As if she read my thoughts, Alicia continued. "But, what she really wants is to be on equal footing, and that's never going to happen. Best to let her find someone on even ground."
"Maybe you're right," I ground out. "Corsica would never be happy knowing that I had everything she wanted. Everything would always be a competition, and let's face it, she's never going to win."
Alicia's smile turned catty and I turned around to see Corsica's blue eyes blink slowly. She drew herself up and straightened her shoulders.
"I was coming to see if you'd like to dance," Corsica said. Her tone was even, elegant, and cool. "I thought perhaps we had some things to discuss, but it seems you two have already sorted everything out."
She had sought me out. I stood for a second in awe of Corsica's poise and her willingness to face hard conversations. Then, I realized that she was slipping through the crowd, and this time, I knew she was leaving for good. I moved to follow her, but Alicia tangled around my arm again.
"See?" she asked. "She'll never be on equal footing with people like us."
"I'm nothing like you," I spat at her. I unwound her claws from my arm and pushed my way through the fancy crowd.
Corsica wove gracefully through the press of tuxedoes and ball gowns and was almost to the front door. This time, my parents were not there to stop her, though I saw my mother furiously gesturing from across the ballroom.
They had just found out I fabricated the entire relationship, and yet both my parents wanted Corsica to stay. Were they seeing something I did not?
"Corsica, please, wait!" I called out too loudly and there was a dip in polite conversation. It spread out like the ripples on a pond as she turned around and pretended as if nothing was wrong.
"Oh, there you are," she said with a smile.
The buzz of conversation started up around us again, but I could hardly hear it over the pounding of my heart. "I thought you said you weren't leaving. Weren't you going to prove that you don't need anyone?"
As soon as the words left my mouth, I tensed waiting for them to land. It was a harsh blow, and one I didn't mean. I just didn't know how to get her to stay.
Relief flooded my system when Corsica did not look hurt. She was furious. Despite her polite smile, she sailed straight up to me and stabbed a finger in my chest. "I don't have anything to prove to you, Penn. I'm not the one that's been lying."
"No, you're just the one that's running away." I wondered if my mouth was permanently disconnected from my brain.
Corsica raised her chin, her upswept hair accentuating the regal disdain of the motion. "There's nothing for me here. Your mother has her health, your parents have each other, and you have an heiress. Go stand on equal footing with her. I'm gone."
She slipped through the crowd so quickly all I could see was the sweeping train of her midnight gown. I elbowed my way through, but didn't catch her this time until she was almost to the far gate of the formal gardens.
"Please, Corsica, it's not what you think," I called.
A small knot of men smoking cigars snickered. Corsica gave all of us a disgusted look and kept going.
"Poor sucker," one of the men puffed.
His friend shook his head. "I don't know, I'd tell a hundred lies a day to be with someone like her."
I glared at them and broke into a jog. Corsica dodged through the topiary, but I caught hold of her elbow just past the giraffe.
"Let go of me. I refuse to let you make me into a scene," she hissed.
"Oh, so you're back to the ice princess who first ran into me on the steps? I'm not going to fall for it. I know who you are, Corsica."
"You don't know anything about me." She wrenched her arm free and crossed her arms tightly over her waist. "You don't want to know anything about me. And, more to the point, you don't want me to really know you. Oh, and the only reason we had anything to do with each other, your insane little lie about us, is over. We're done."
I reached out for her hands, but she refused. "We both know it was more than that. And it was more than you feeling empathy for me and my family. There's something else. I'm sorry for all the rest of it, but I'm not sorry for that."
"You're not sorry that you slept with me just to get me out of your system?" She snorted and started off down the path to the beach gate.
"You really think that's all it was?"
She stopped, but did not turn around. "Then what was it?"
I didn't know how to say it. It felt like it buzzed in the air, louder than a cicada in August, but I couldn't get the words to form in my mouth.
Corsica half-turned and gave a sad, little sigh. "It doesn't matter. You'd always think I was just a gold-digger; you'd always
be suspicious of me."
"I don't care about the money. I don't care about 'equal footing' or whatever that nonsense was." My voice was raspy.
"But I care where I stand."
Something crumpled in my chest, and I couldn't stand it anymore. "Fine. You want to try to keep your high ground by maintaining this drama, then go ahead. I'll call a car to take you back to Santa Cruz, and I'll cut you a check for your summer rent. You're right, our deal is done, and we should be, too."
Corsica looked at me, her blue eyes as shadowed as the midnight folds of her ball gown. I held my breath, hoping her next words wouldn't hurt. My lungs burned and my chest ached, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she turned and slipped through the beach gate, down the steep dunes to the ocean.
I stood there for what felt like century until a voice startled me. "Did I just miss Corsica? Is the whole show over?" Phillip strolled up and handed me a double whiskey.
"The whole thing was a lie. We were never engaged. It was just a one-night stand that turned into a weekend getaway that turned into the biggest mess I've ever made."
Phillip clinked his glass against mine. "You love her. Of course things got messy. They always do when one person has nothing and the other person has, what should we call it? Your father's touch?"
I scowled at him and knocked my drink back in one go. It burned like hell, but I liked it. The whiskey felt like the only thing that would melt the glacier covering my chest.
"I wouldn't have been the one with the problem," I grumbled. "I'd give away all my money if that's what she wanted."
Phillip nodded, not at all surprised. "Then, what the hell are you doing? Go after her."
"Don't people say if you love someone you should let them go?" I asked.
My friend took my glass with an impish grin. "I think that depends on if they know you love them or not."
I cursed all the way down the sandy, shifting path. At the bottom, I expected to see Corsica huddled against the rocks, trying to escape the chill Pacific breeze. She was nowhere to be seen, though. Panic gripped me and I stumbled through the seaweed and driftwood.
"Corsica? Corsica!"
A shadow detached from a sand dune far down the beach. Corsica appeared, a willowy outline against the moonlit sand. Her long gown whipped around her, and for a moment, she looked like a sea goddess swept up in the waves of her dress. Then she gathered up the long skirt, turned from me, and began to run.
I sprinted along the beach, only stopping when I got tangled up in her abandoned high heels. I scooped them up, muttering horrible things about princesses and their silly shoes. Even barefoot, Corsica was faster than me.
I'd told her it was over and now she was too far gone.
My lungs ached from the run, but I felt a burst of hope when dark, jagged rocks loomed up ahead. Past the country club boundaries, the beach grew wild. The waves crashed against the outcropping and sprayed mist far into the air. New waves pounded up behind, and the high tide was beginning to swallow the beach. Corsica would have to turn around or risk getting caught between the hurling surf and the rising rock walls.
"Corsica, stop! You made your point!"
I heard her smothered sobs as the wind changed and blew hard against me. She was crying and running away so I wouldn't see. I broke into a grin. She did care! She wanted to hear that I loved her. She needed to hear it now. I tried shouting it, but the wind threw the words back in my face.
Then everything stopped. Corsica had come to an outcrop of rocks. The beach continued on the other side, but the waves slammed into the sheer wall right in front of her. She looked back at me, and then out after the receding black water. I could tell by the way she shifted back and forth that she was timing the waves. The wet sand reappeared, a silver glint under the moon, and Corsica took her chance.
A terrified yell ripped from my throat as I saw the five-foot wall rear up. It broke into a white froth and bore down just as she slipped out to run around the cliff. She dropped her hem as she caught her balance and the dark dress seemed to merge with the midnight ocean. The wave hit and she disappeared.
I splashed into the water just as the wave drew back. I felt the powerful undertow sucking at my ankles and I had to fight hard to keep going. By the time I slogged around the outcrop to the next stretch of beach, I couldn't see Corsica anywhere.
Panicked, I turned around and peered into the roiling waters, calling her name. Had she been pulled out into those clashing waves? She was strong; I would see her struggling. I searched and searched, but didn't see a hint of her in the black waters. Then, I spun around and sprinted down the beach. I checked every sand dune and inlet, every pile of driftwood. Too many times to count, I looked over my shoulder and had to double back and assure myself the knots of seaweed were not her tangled in her wet dress.
Corsica was gone.
Staving off the panic that was consuming me, I ran to my beach house. Every muscle ached by the time I pulled myself up the steps to the deck. There were wet footprints on the wooden planks and sandy smudges on the door. I fought the dizzying urge to drop to my knees in thanks. Instead, I hauled open the sliding door and marched inside.
The door to her guest suite was shut tight and I hammered on it until I thought the wood might split. "Corsica? I just want to know you're okay."
There was no answer and I gripped the doorframe as I listened for any hint of her. "Please tell me you're here. You could have been killed out there on the beach."
I caught my breath and listened, hoping she was on the other side of the door doing the same. Then, the words finally formed. "Corsica, please, I don't want to be done. It's true that I tried to get you out of my system, but it didn't work. It backfired. I need you.
“Corsica, I love you."
There was no reply. I rattled the door handle and realized it was unlocked. The guest suite door swung open and I froze to the carpet. It looked like nothing had been touched. There was no sign that Corsica had made it back at all. The cold fingers of fear closed around me again and I tore into the room, praying for some sign.
"Please, please, please," I panted as I tore open her closet.
All her clothes were there in a row. I swung around and raced into the bathroom. There my frozen heart started to pump again. Her hair brush, her make-up bag, the running shoes that she'd kept in the corner, they were all gone. I ran back into the room and dove to look under the bed. Her suitcase was gone.
Corsica was alive, but she'd already left. I knelt there until the pressing waves of relief let up.
Then, I sat back on my heels and frowned at the closet. Why had she left so many things behind?
I stood up and looked at the sundresses and blouses again. Corsica had left behind the few designer label items she owned.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Corsica - 19
Ginny burst through the front door of her apartment and was not surprised to find me still sprawled out across the couch. "You know this is still your place, too," she said over a full bag of groceries.
"How can it be when I just took off and left you with my half of the rent?"
"You've already paid me back." She rolled her eyes. "Though, you could give me a hand with these things."
I jumped up and followed her to our tiny galley kitchen. It felt suffocating compared to the open expanses of Penn's beach house kitchen, but I refused to think about it. I stuffed myself in the back and started to unpack the brown bag.
"Tortillas, avocados, what is all this?" I asked. I probably owed Ginny for groceries, too, I thought.
"We're having taco night." My friend grinned and opened a cupboard with a flourish. "Tacos and lots of tequila. Doctor's orders."
Tears welled up in my eyes. "Am I that bad?"
Ginny propped her hands on her hips. "Not you. The whole breaking up and almost killing yourself on the beach thing was bad, but you have been good. Too good. You need to let it out."
"Let what out?" I wailed.
Ginny took the
salsa from me before I broke it. "You know it's okay that you fell for him, right? I mean, it's kind of amazing, seeing as you two look like polar opposites, but you had a real connection. Everyone could see it."
"Except Penn." I crumpled up the brown paper grocery bag into a tight wad and threw it over our narrow pass-through window into the living room.
"And that is why we're having taco night." Ginny shooed me to the other side of the pass-through. I slumped on a narrow bar stool and moped while she mixed up two margaritas. She cracked open beer chasers and then rolled up her sleeves to make dinner.
"I'm just sad that I failed," I said.
Ginny slapped ground beef into a skillet. "You were an angel. Seriously. He was just trying to get some, and you were trying to comfort him through his mother's sickness. A sickness, I have to say, you had every right to never go near again. All the memories were no good for you, yet you were kind to him. I don't call that failing."
"No," I said, sipping my margarita. "I failed at spontaneity."
Ginny laughed and left the ground beef to brown. She leaned on the pass-through counter across from me.
"Getting whisked away in a helicopter to Monterey and then heading off into Pinnacles to go camping, of all things, isn't spontaneous? And, I mean, you're you! I'd say you passed your spontaneity course with flying colors."
"But I'm still me," I whined. "Except now I don't have a job or any idea where next month's rent is going to come from. What was I thinking?"
"Please," Ginny said, clinking our glasses together, "we both know you have a way healthier savings account than any other recent college grad in the history of the world. I'm still glad you gave up that interview. It's like you escaped and now you have the chance to do what you really love."
"Too bad I can't love singing and not be poor," I said. "And now, I can't even bear to think about all the ideas I had for a glamorous camping business on the side. God. I actually thought Penn and I could do that together."
Ginny shoved the tortilla shells in the oven. "That sounds like a great idea. And, you know someone who has an in around Pinnacles."