Beautiful Fall

by Jordyn White

  Next, Rayce and Connor set up a pretty impressive play that tricks Corrine into going left when she should’ve gone right and we score again.

  I’m feeling a little guilty about the teams being so uneven, but when Lizzy tightens her ponytail and rests her hands on her thighs, eyeing Connor as he prepares to serve, Rayce says quietly, “Play time’s over.” He jerks his chin in Lizzy’s direction. “She’s warmed up now.”

  I still don’t believe it, but a few minutes later I’m a convert when the volleys even up and the girls score a point. We take the next point, but they get the next two, putting us at even.

  There’s some good-natured ribbing between the two teams after each point, but the play itself is all business. I was feeling a bit rusty when we first started, but by now I’ve loosened up and found my groove. Her brothers and I are working well together, actually, and we’re in an extended volley where we’re defending the court well. But Lizzy and Corrine are too. Lizzy’s lightning quick, blocking plays like a pro.

  There’s a brief, tiny opening on our side of the court, which Lizzy spots the second before I do, delivering a solid spike straight to it.

  “Damn,” I say, as the ball bounces off the sand in center court. “Good eye. Did you compete or something?”

  “No no no,” Connor says, shaking his open hand at me with mock consternation. “No praising the enemy, dude.”

  “You can give the enemy a kiss, though,” she says, putting one hand on her delicious hip, cocking her head at me, and giving me a steamy look that I have to admit has a pretty strong effect on me even though I’m standing right between her two brothers.

  “Foul!” Connor calls pointing at her. He turns to me. “Don’t let her distract you, man.”

  “Your serve,” Rayce says, tossing me the ball. “Go for the handicap,” he murmurs, seemingly not wanting Connor to hear this comment about his fiancé any more than he wanted the girls to.

  Maybe their competitiveness is rubbing off on me, because that’s exactly what I do, and when I score an ace in Whitney’s back corner, I saunter over to the net and say to Lizzy, “I’ll take my kiss now.”

  Rayce and Connor erupt into laughter. She gives me a scowl, but her eyes twinkle. “Good luck with that, Mr. Carmichael.”

  And so it goes.

  Point after point, when someone scores on the other team, there’s no graceful acknowledgement. Oh no. Apparently, scoring a point is just one part of the fun. The other is rubbing the score-ees’ faces in it.

  It’s like dissing one another is its own sport, and they’re trying to see who will win the game of that as well.

  Something about this high-powered family and their healthy dose of friendly competitiveness with one another is entertaining the hell out of me. It’s fun seeing this new side of Lizzy, too.

  The one person who seems to be protected from their teasing is Whitney. Perhaps because she is, truly, a handicap. Often she’ll get a “good job” from both sides if she delivers a decent play, and a “good try” if she doesn’t.

  She shocks the hell out of everyone when she spikes the ball into our back corner, earning her team a point. Her arms shoot up and she looks as surprised as everyone else. We all cheer and she jumps up and down in excitement, clapping her hands and getting everyone laughing.

  Following the example of the Rivers clan, she turns and shakes her rear at Connor in victory.

  He laughs and says, “Bring that over here a little closer.”

  “Oh, get a room, you two,” Lizzy says.

  As the game goes on and the score is jumping back and forth, our teams in a dead heat, the taunting between Lizzy and Rayce in particular reaches new heights. Meanwhile, her playing and focus seem to sharpen. I’m taken aback when they get three points on us in a row, thanks largely to Lizzy’s hustle, keen eye, and killer spikes.

  I’d be turned on as fuck if I weren’t suddenly very interested in not losing to a bunch of girls, no offense to girls.

  Things turn pretty serious on our side, and Lizzy cottons on to the change in our mood. She gives her older brother an evil grin. “Are you scared, little boy?”

  “Just serve,” he says flatly, eyes sharp on the ball, which is now in Whitney’s hand. I’m hoping the fact that it’s her turn to serve will play to our advantage.

  Lizzy laughs amusedly, leaning on her thighs. “Twenty to sixteen, brother. Twenty to sixteen.” He doesn’t respond, but she continues. “We’re ahead. In case you forgot.”

  The next play happens in a flash.

  Whitney hits a soft serve in my direction and I set it up for Rayce to spike. I think he’s going to nail it but Lizzy shoots up at the last second and blocks it with a spike of her own. The ball is hitting the sand between Connor and I and bouncing away before I realize what’s happened.

  Connor swears and the other girls cheer.

  “Ooooh,” Lizzy says to Rayce with a mock sympathetic face. He turns to her, wearing a wry expression. With a glint in her eye, she leans toward him and says, “Too bad, sukkah!”

  “That’s it.” He darts under the net and she squeals, sprinting into motion herself. Next thing I know she’s laughing and running away, but Rayce is hauling ass and gaining on her quick.

  Corrine cups her slender hands around her mouth and hollers, “Look out, Lizzy!”

  “Too late,” Connor says laughing.

  Sure enough, Rayce has caught up with her and is now carrying a laughing, kicking, screaming Lizzy toward the pool.

  “Nooo—” she hollers, but he tosses her in unceremoniously and her scream is cut off when she goes under water.

  He watches her, standing in a slight crouch at the edge of the pool. The second she resurfaces, he launches into the air and curls into a ball, hitting the water with a loud thwack. Again, her scream gets swallowed by the tsunami of water Rayce just sent in her direction.

  Connor and Corrine grin at one another and break into a run themselves, running full out for the pool and making their entrance into the foray with cannonballs of their own—though hers is positively demure compared to Connor’s.

  Slack-jawed, I look at Whitney. She’s laughing and shaking her head, watching the distinguished Rivers clan splash and wrestle around in the water like a bunch of teenagers.

  “Uh... is the game over?”

  “Oh no. We’ll finish it eventually. Come on.” She leads me to the side of the house. “There’s no controlling them when they get like this.”

  We approach a large, redwood chest and she opens it to reveal a pretty impressive supply of the biggest water guns I’ve ever seen. She hands me one and points at the water spout nearby. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

  Which is how I end up spraying down the entirety of the Rivers family with a fully-loaded super soaker. It’s surprisingly gratifying, and eases the sting somewhat when, half an hour later, the girls win the game, twenty-five to twenty.

  Later, we’re sitting on the patio waiting for Connor to finish grilling the last of the brats so we can start dinner. The current topic of discussion is the interior design of the Cottages, not for the first time. Strangely, it’s not Lizzy who keeps circling back to her pet project. It’s Whitney.

  Meanwhile, I notice Corrine giving me a sly look. “Wanna play a game of gin?”

  “No, thanks,” I say smiling. “I think I’ve suffered enough humiliation for today.”

  Rayce and Connor laugh, but she persists.

  “I’ll go easy on you.”

  “Don’t believe her,” Rayce mumbles, taking a sip of his beer.

  My phone rings, and the second I hear Jessica’s ring tone, I know what it means. I can’t say I’m surprised, but dammit. I reach over to the table and Lizzy glances at me. I give her an apologetic look. She presses her lips together, looking resigned to the inevitable and I answer on the second ring.

  Mere minutes later, I’ve made my apologizes to the group and Lizzy’s walking with me to the car, carrying the covered plates of food Whitne
y and Connor insisted on sending with me. They even included enough for Max.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, taking the plates from her and setting them on the passenger seat. I hate disappointing her, but what can I do?

  “You don’t need to be sorry.”

  I shut the door and lean back against it. “I know it was important to you that I be here today.”

  “You were here.”

  “I hate to leave early.” I pull her into my arms. “I’ve really enjoyed it.”

  She smiles, pleased. “Have you?”

  I kiss her nose. “Yes. Your family’s great.”

  Her arms tighten around my waist. “You... could bring Max back here if you want.” Her voice is a little tentative, like she’s trying not to reveal how scary it is for her to offer this. How important my answer. “Does he know how to swim?”

  “Yes...” I say slowly. She looks up at me with those big green eyes, vulnerable and hopeful. “Um....”

  Selfishly, I consider it. Would it really be so bad? I’ve no doubt her family would make little Max as welcome here as they’ve made me.

  “Not yet,” I say apologetically. “I don’t know what kind of mood he’s going to be in after getting kicked out of his mom’s house early again. I don’t think this would be the best time.”

  “Of course,” she says, shaking her head and shutting her eyes briefly. “Of course, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” She gives me a brave smile and a kiss. “Just know you’re both welcome.”

  “I know. Thank you for that.”

  She’s holding her smile, but I see the struggle underneath it. I give her a kiss. “I’ll call you later. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

  She nods, still trying to mask her disappointment. “Have fun with little Max today.”

  I could just go, but find I’m unable to let her distress go unacknowledged. I sigh and pull her into my arms, tucking down next to her ear, and holding her. She hesitates for half a second, then tightens her embrace and sighs too. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  “I understand. I really do. And... I know we really haven’t been seeing each other that long.”

  I pull back so I can look at her, but keep her in my arms. “It doesn’t feel that way, though.”

  She smiles. “No. It doesn’t.”

  “Let me get through the hearing. Just... for Max’s sake I want to be careful.”

  She nods. “You’re right. Don’t worry. It’s okay,” and she does seem to feel better. “We have time.”

  I give her another kiss and linger. We sink into it, opening to one another and holding each other firmly.

  I pull away slightly, and caress back her hair with one hand. “How important is sleep to you tonight?”

  She smiles and there’s that spark in her eyes I was wanting to see. “Sleep? What’s sleep?”

  Chapter 26

  Lizzy

  When I return to the back patio, whatever conversation was happening stops immediately and all eyes swing in my direction. Everyone’s either grinning at me or giving me a shrewd look. I plop onto the couch next to Rayce and drop my head sideways onto his shoulder. Everyone laughs at me good-naturedly and he pats my knee.

  “You’re pretty far gone, aren’t you?”

  “You guys like him, right?” I ask eagerly, lifting my head and sweeping my eyes over the group as they nod.

  I look to Rayce, whose opinion feels the most important. He’s smiling. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

  I smile in relief and pull my knees up, leaning against his arm again. “He’s making me crazy.”

  “Enough to overlook the fact that his mother is Marcia Carmichael?” Corrine teases.

  “Well, we haven’t crossed that bridge yet.”

  “What about his son?” Connor asks “Have you met him?”

  I shake my head, my disappointment resurfacing even though I do understand. Brett is just looking out for little Max, and that’s actually something I love about him. “Things are kind of complicated with his ex, so...”

  I see Connor exchanging a look with Rayce, but I avoid looking at Rayce to determine what they might be communicating with each other. I’m not sure I want to know.

  “He’s just not ready yet.”

  “That’s understandable though, right?” Whitney asks. She’s in the love seat, curled up next to Connor. “You guys have only been dating a few weeks.”

  “Yes, it’s totally understandable.” And it is. Thinking about it makes me a bit unsettled though.

  Corrine cocks her head at me and Connor narrows his eyes, apparently both sensing my discomfort and trying to sort out the reason for it. “But?” Connor asks.

  I don’t know myself the reason for this whiff of unease. I do want to meet little Max, it’s true, even though I’m still nervous about whether or not we’ll hit it off. But it’s not unreasonable for Brett to wait for something like that, so I don’t really think that’s what’s bothering me. I don’t know what it is.

  In the second between Connor’s question and my response, my mind flits around in search of an answer. It lands briefly on Brett’s painful history in general and his ex-wife in particular, so maybe I’m just nervous about what role I’ll play in the current drama with her, once I’m more a part of things. Maybe it’s that.

  Or maybe I’m feeling uneasy merely because this could potentially be the last time he picks Max up from his mom’s. If things go Brett’s way in court on Wednesday, Max could be with him full time from now on. That would be a good thing, for both of them, and I hope that’s what happens. I just wish I knew what that will mean for me and Brett. Maybe I won’t get to see him as much. Just how long will it be before I’m allowed to be with him and his son?

  I take a breath to clear my head and sit up, letting my feet fall to the ground. “But nothing. I’m sure I’ll get to meet little Max soon.” I let my mind go elsewhere, and allow the cumulative memories of the afternoon with Brett and my family lighten my mood. I smile. It seemed to go so well. “You guys do like him, right?”

  They reassure me again that they like Brett and approve of him.

  “I think Mom and Dad would’ve liked him, too,” Rayce says.

  I definitely don’t look at him this time. I know if I do, I’ll start to tear up, and I’d rather stay cheerful and content.

  Because even with Brett gone, part of him is still with me, making me unreasonably happy.

  The day after Connor’s birthday, my brothers and I climb the familiar curved staircase that leads to the upper offices of the law firm and George Hollister’s office. We’ve been here several times over the last eleven and a half months since our parents passed away. More than we would’ve liked.

  George is a longtime family friend and the one our parents chose to oversee their trust. I can see why. In spite of sometimes having to deal with cantankerous heirs (my brothers, not me), he’s maintained his cool and kept us all together.

  He’s had his work cut out for him in other ways too. Our parents’ estate was massive, and the business of settling it has been ongoing. While most of their assets passed on to the three of us, it seems there was no family member, close friend, or favorite charity they overlooked. In fact, my brother and I have discovered some rather distant relatives we didn’t know we had, and I’ve done my best to try to keep in touch with them since. Some beneficiaries are people Mom or Dad knew so long ago that George has had his hands full tracking some of them down. On top of that, he’s had to oversee the inheritances of anyone under the age of twenty-five, Connor and Corrine included.

  Even though George is the trustee, our parents wanted us, their children, to be informed about anything having to do with their estate. We’ve been meeting with him once every couple months to get the latest updates, and to ask questions if we have any. It’s all been handled well, and is almost routine. A rather sterile contrast to the painful reality of being without our parents.

  Our meetings are about to become more infrequent though. Now
that Connor’s twenty-five, his assets will finally transfer to him. Connor had already built an impressive sum of money on his own, thanks to a knack for investing in tech startup companies, so while his financial situation is about to change drastically, he doesn’t exactly need any of it. (Or, he once confessed, want it, considering the reason it’s coming to him.) I think he’s reconciled himself to it though, as we all have. Now we’re just focusing on the positive. While we all like George, there’s no downside to fewer meetings.

  “I’m so glad we’ll be done with this for a while,” I say, as we get to the landing and head down the hall.

  “Me, too,” Connor agrees.

  Rayce doesn’t say anything. In fact, he’s been unusually quiet. He’s carrying a folder with his copy of the trust inside. I haven’t asked him why. I’ve only read through my copy once, a few weeks after I received it. It was a full fifty-two pages and too much to handle emotionally. I’ve been grateful, more than once, that we have George to take care of things for us.

  When we get to his office, the door is already open and he stands upon our arrival. We shake hands and settle in, taking some time for casual pleasantries before getting down to business. It’s while George and Connor are going through paper after paper, transferring assets out of the trust and into Connor’s name, that I notice Rayce fussing with the corner of the manila folder on his lap.

  He’s not one to fidget, even when under pressure, so I give him a questioning look. You okay?

  He gives me a small smile and slight shake of his head. I’m fine.

  I pat his knee briefly before turning my attention back to Connor and George. This whole thing has been hard on all of us, obviously, but Rayce has a tendency to hold things in. I suspect he’s struggling with some emotions right now. Truth is, seems like at least one of us struggles with emotions at these meetings. God, I’ll really be glad when they’re behind us for good.

  Once his business with Connor is settled, George turns to items that concern the estate more generally. He tells us he’s tracked down the last two people he’s been looking for, a Virginia Sinclair and a Mason Reeves. He’s been in touch with each one, informing them of their inheritances.