by Iris Morland
No, she thought. I know who it is and he sucks monkey balls and I hope he falls off a cliff. She gritted her teeth. “Not particularly interested in responding,” she said.
“Who’s texting you so much this morning?” He didn’t say it with jealousy lacing his voice, necessarily, but more concern that she was potentially ignoring something important.
How did she tell her current…fling? lover? that her ex-fiancé was intent on talking with her no matter what she told him? When her phone sounded again, she pulled it out with a curse, and then swore again as she read Jeremy’s texts.
“What is it?” Adam asked, concern in his voice.
Joy hesitated. But at his look, she admitted, “It’s my ex. He’s just being a pain in the ass. Don’t worry about it.” At Adam’s look, she winced inwardly. For all Adam knew, she and Jeremy were still on somewhat good terms and she was playing two men at once. She almost blurted that Jeremy had cheated on her with her best friend, but then she stopped herself. The thought of telling him of such a betrayal made her want to sink into the floor. Oddly enough, Jeremy’s betrayal had only been one layer of hurt: the other had been humiliation that she’d been cheated on. That she couldn’t keep a boyfriend interested enough not to fuck her friend. Oh, sure, it was Jeremy’s—and Regina’s—decision, not Joy’s, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been a blow to Joy’s self esteem, either.
So now she bit her tongue and gathered her things, a jumble of emotions. “I should go. Let me know what you think of the story, okay? Have a good day.”
She didn’t even kiss him goodbye, and she could’ve slapped herself. Way to be obvious that something was up, and now because she was a total coward, he was probably thinking the worst.
Is your pride important enough to let this man think badly of you? her mind whispered.
The sad thing was that Joy wasn’t sure of the answer.
“YOU NEED TO TELL HIM.” Grace pulled a Twizzler from the package and bit on the end.
“Easier said than done.” Pointing her own Twizzler at the girl, Joy added, “You have no room to speak about being honest with a guy, missy.”
Joy had invited Grace over for a girl’s evening, needing someone to talk to about Adam. Well, not the details—Grace was his sister, after all—but about Jeremy and Adam and Joy’s poor life choices. She’d confessed to Grace that Jeremy had cheated on her, albeit after a few drinks. But now that she and the younger girl both had secrets that they’d revealed to each other, they felt a camaraderie that was stronger than it had been initially.
“This isn’t about me,” Grace said prosaically. “You called me to talk about yourself. Plus, I’m working on a plan.”
Joy perked up. “A plan? Tell me!”
“No, not until you tell my brother the truth.”
Joy slumped down into the couch, biting off more of the Twizzler. “I’d rather guzzle gasoline,” she admitted.
“You’re so dramatic. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”
“It’s not that, it’s just that…” Joy looked away, her throat closing a little. “It’s humiliating, you know? I hate the look people get on their faces when you tell them. Pity mixed with questions.”
“Questions?”
“Yeah, like, ‘how’d she fuck up so badly that her boyfriend slept with her best friend?’ Those kinds of questions.”
Grace rubbed Joy’s knee. “Oh, Joy, I can’t imagine anyone thinking that.”
“My mom certainly did. Asked me point blank if I’d been withholding sex and if that’s why Jeremy had strayed. That had been the low point of my life, let me tell you.”
“Well, your mom can eat a moldy dick, as you would say. No one’s at fault for cheating except the cheater. Even if you shaved his eyebrows while he slept and cursed his future children, he still made that shitty decision.” Grace nodded, finishing her Twizzler and then sipping on some wine Adam had brought over earlier. “And I know Adam isn’t going to judge you for it.”
“I guess.” Joy didn’t think so, either, but that didn’t make it any easier. Desperately wanting to change the subject, she asked, “Have you been painting lately?”
Grace had majored in art and had specifically worked with watercolors while in school, and Joy had gotten to see a few of her pieces. They had been surprisingly dark for a seemingly sunny girl like Grace Danvers: images of dark oceans and skies and places that made Joy shudder, faces of women shrouded in black and gray, and some pieces that couldn’t be easily explained but that exuded a roiling emotion that Joy found both distressing and infinitely compelling.
Lately, though, Grace hadn’t been painting much, which she’d confessed to Joy a few weeks ago. Joy had a feeling she felt a little lost after graduating and then moving back home, stuck in her parents’ house while she figured out the terrifying question of what-are-you-going-to-do-with-your-life.
Grace smiled a little sadly. “I started one a few days ago, but it was awful. Just a jumble of barf colors. I threw it out.”
“Maybe you need new inspiration. Perhaps a day trip somewhere new?”
“Maybe.” Grace didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe I need to try painting fewer landscapes. I could try more people.”
Joy smiled widely. “You should hire some models. Nude models. Wonder if Jaime would be down?”
“Joy!” Grace yelled, hitting her with a pillow. “I will never ask Jaime Martínez to pose naked for me!”
“Too bad. I bet he’d be a great subject.”
“You say one more word about him and I’m going to poison your drink.”
“No you won’t, because then who would you go see hot-guy movies with?”
Grace sniffed. “I’ll go with my mom.”
“How thrilling. I always love watching hunks with my mom in tow.”
Grace just hit her with a pillow again.
The evening wound down, with the wine still flowing. Joy made Grace sit on the floor so she could play with her hair—perfect for braiding, as it was long and flowy—and she tried to convince the girl to continue painting. “I’m not a painter, obviously—I can’t even draw a stick figure—but I think we’re kind of in the same boat, since I’m a writer. You just have to push through any writer’s block. Or painter’s block, as it may be.”
Grace sighed as Joy tugged a strand of hair into the French braid she was creating. “It’s not that. It’s like…I can’t paint. It’s as if there’s nothing there.”
“What’s not there, hun?”
“The skills? The inspiration? I don’t know. I used to paint all the time. Now, though, I take out my watercolors and it’s almost painful to pick up a paintbrush.” She sighed, and it was such a sad sigh that it went straight to Joy’s heart. “I think I’m broken.”
No, I think you’re depressed, Joy thought. Instead, she rubbed the girl’s shoulder. “You’re not broken, just a little stuck. You’ll get there, I promise. I think your twenties are more about trying not to fuck everything up than they are about becoming some accomplished adult. Believe me, you’re doing as great as any twenty-three year old out there.”
“What were you doing at my age?”
Joy pulled another piece of hair, biting her lip in concentration. “Writing, mostly. Eating ramen noodles. Wondering if I should be responsible and go to law school like my mom wanted. The usual early twenties’ angst.”
“Why didn’t you go to law school?”
“Because I didn’t want to. I knew it wouldn’t make me happy. It’s funny, people think young people are inherently selfish, but I think so much of your twenties is trying to do what other people want you to do. Trying to make others happy with your choices because you’re young and don't know what you really want. But at the end of the day,” she said as she finished tying off the braid, “if you’re not happy, no one else will be, either.”
Grace didn’t say anything, but Joy saw the girl brush something off her cheek. She squeezed her shoulders, hoping deep in her heart that Grace would find that happiness she so
rightly deserved.
12
With his feet propped up on his desk, Adam set Joy’s story down, rubbing his chin. It was good—great, even. He hadn’t really known what to expect of Joy’s writing abilities, but she’d impressed him. She had a stylish tone that permeated her writing, and he could almost hear her voice in his ear as he’d read the article.
She’d made River’s Bend sound like an up-and-coming attraction, as opposed to a declining vineyard in the middle of nowhere. She’d even described the owner as a “dedicated individual with an immense knowledge of wines,” which he had to admit he’d smiled at. Thinking about the last time he’d read about himself in a story, he scowled, forcing those memories away. This was Joy, and hadn’t she already shown him that she wasn’t like the journalists that had almost ruined his and his family’s lives? Joy may use writing to pay her bills, but she clearly respected boundaries and didn’t use other people’s pain and misfortune for a quick buck, either.
He was just about to text her to let her know she could publish the article when his phone rang. “This is Adam,” he said when he picked up, mostly out of habit than because it was rare anyone other than him ever used his phone.
“Sadie and Robert are here for their meeting,” Kerry chirped in his ear. “Should I send them back?”
Adam had completely forgotten that the couple was coming to River’s Bend to discuss using it for their wedding. “I’ll come get them. Be sure to offer them something to drink, if they’re interested.”
Ten minutes later, Adam seated the couple across from his desk, apologizing for the mass of papers and folders scattered across the surface. He rarely had meetings in his office, and certainly not with people he’d consider clients. But both Sadie Parsons and Robert Lyle had grown up in Heron’s Landing, and they hardly noticed the lack of décor. Sadie was a plump, blond girl no older than twenty-two, her hair in ringlets that made her look like Goldilocks. Her fiancé, in complete contrast, was dark-headed and rather taciturn, preferring to grunt his responses and rarely using complete sentences. They were the exact opposite in terms of personalities, yet they seemed to complement each other perfectly. Adam didn’t understand it, but he had to admit that they only had eyes for each other.
Sadie brought an entire binder full of ideas, pointing to flower arrangements and table setups and even aisle runners until Adam’s head spun. Robert offered nothing beyond a few grunts of agreement when Sadie prompted him, although he did end up saying, “No pink, Sadie,” to which his fiancée gave him a sad pout.
Adam scribbled down Sadie’s jumbled ideas, his own head whirling. He had no idea what he was doing, did he? How did he think he could become some wedding coordinator and just hope things worked, when they hadn’t worked the first time around? But he kept a straight face as he talked with Sadie, nodding and offering any suggestions that happened to spring to mind. By the end of the meeting, he’d gathered that the bride wanted a country wedding with loads of flowers and that she hated carrot cake. When she began talking about her dress and the cowboy boots she’d wear with it, Adam had to restrain the urge to put his head down on his desk.
He escorted them out, shaking hands with both and telling them he’d be in contact with them shortly. That was when he spotted a bright purple head out of the corner of his eye, and to his surprise, Joy was at his elbow, asking if Sadie and Robert were the bride and groom to be.
“Oh, congratulations! I love weddings. Did you two just finish talking to Adam?” Joy asked, a gleam in her eye.
Adam almost told her that the couple was headed home, but Sadie responded to Joy’s enthusiasm equally. “We did. We’re still considering between River’s Bend or having it at Robert’s parents’ home.”
“You have to have it at River’s Bend! It’ll be so gorgeous, overlooking the river as the sun sets behind you two. What does your dress look like?”
Adam hadn’t seen Joy this excited since she’d discovered that she could order her favorite kind of potato chips from Chicago online. He watched her and Sadie talk animatedly, Robert simply standing aside and letting his fiancée talk. Adam had a feeling that was Robert’s usual role, and the guy didn’t seem the least bit discomfited by it.
“If you have the wedding here,” Joy was saying, “I could write a story about it, since it would be the first one River’s Bend would be hosting. I could even contact some friends of mine in Chicago, see if they want to provide some things for the wedding. You know, sponsor you and then I write about them, and they get free advertising.” She snapped her fingers. “Easy as that. Plus, it would generate more revenue for me, too,” she added with a wide smile.
Sadie laughed, but Adam shifted on his feet. “Once we make our decision,” Sadie said, “I’ll let you know. I’d love to have our wedding made into a story, though. Wouldn’t that be romantic, Robbie?”
Robert grunted, and Sadie beamed.
The couple finally departed, a wide smile on Joy’s face and Adam trying hard to keep his misgivings to himself. So what if Joy wanted to make some money? his logical brain told him. That didn’t mean she was going to screw him and everyone else over to write some op-ed piece that could hurt people as a result. But the anxiety surrounding the subject still niggled at him, and when Joy turned to him, her smile slowly disappeared.
“Are you okay?” she asked, peering at him closely. “You look like you’re going to puke.”
Kerry, sitting at her desk, was watching the exchange closely, and although the town had already figured out that Adam and Joy were canoodling (Kerry’s favorite word), he also didn’t want to advertise their canoodling, either. Especially not if it resulted in some disagreement.
He took her aside and kissed her cheek. “Want to come over later?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want to think about stories or journalists or anything else. And with Joy pressed into his side, her sweet scent filling his nose, all of his worries dissipated like mist.
Joy glanced at him, but her expression became mischievous. “Maybe, if I have time,” she replied airily. “Do you have something good to give me?”
“Sweetheart, I always have something good to give you. And if you come over, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.” He kissed the side of her neck, a place where he knew she was extra sensitive. She shuddered a little in his arms.
But it was what she said next that made his eyes widen. “How about you take me back to your office and show me right now?”
Adam, to put it plainly, had never been that kind of guy. His life was orderly, pristine, and he made love in beds and the occasional countertop. Always at home, and never at work. Hell, he and Carolyn had been so busy they’d almost had to put each other on their respective calendars just to see one another.
Now, though, he wanted to throw caution to the wind. He danced his fingers along Joy’s spine, feeling the silk of her bare back, and said in a low voice, “Lead the way.”
Surprise suffused her face until she broke out in a wide grin. Almost running to his office, she tugged on his hand and then after locking the door, burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face! I’ve never seen someone so shocked!”
He growled a little and yanked her close. “You shouldn’t dare a guy who never backs down from a dare.”
“Oh really? I thought you were the guy who rolls his socks in perfect cylinders and irons his underwear for good measure.”
“I only iron my silk thongs, and you know it.”
“You sure know how to a charm a girl,” she said on a sigh.
He’d already begun kissing her neck, licking and tasting the sweetness of her skin. She leaned backward, sighing again. She was wearing some light yellow dress with too many straps and a zipper that didn’t seem to exist. When he was about to pull the thing over her head, she yelped and stepped back.
“If you rip my new dress I’ll kill you in your sleep.” She unbuttoned the front, and he didn’t even hear the next words out of her mouth, he was so focused on her breasts encased in lig
ht pink lace. “This dress is one-of-a-kind.”
“And it’s also in the way.” He helped her arms out of the straps and tossed the concoction onto a chair. If he had to buy her another one—if he had to buy her twenty new dresses—he’d do it. But looking at her dressed in skimpy lingerie that matched perfectly, Adam’s brain essentially shut down.
Joy was, in a word, colorful. From her purple hair to her green eyeliner to her colorful clothing, she could’ve looked garish and ridiculous. Yet she managed to maintain an elegant, feminine air about her despite the bright plumage. He wasn’t sure how she managed it, and he’d never expected to be so obsessed with a woman who was so outlandish compared to his own personality, but he was. From the tattoo on her arm to her nose ring to her purple toenails, he couldn’t get enough.
If he thought too much about it, he’d probably turn tail and run.
But right now, he walked her backward until she sat down on his desk. They gazed at each other, breathing heavily, and Adam traced the lines of her tattoo. He had only glanced at it before, but now he studied it, intrigued. Drawn in swaths of purple and blue and lined in black, it was a mermaid with a graceful tail and long, blue hair. It reached from her upper bicep almost to her elbow, an expansive piece that looked alive.
“Why the mermaid?” He traced the strands of the mermaid’s hair on her skin.
Joy smiled a little before shrugging. “When I was a kid, I told people I was going to grow up and be a mermaid. Not a doctor or a ballerina.” Adam looked up at her, and his heart twisted a little at the expression on her face: uncertainty, perhaps a little sadness.
“But then some brat told me mermaids didn’t exist, and that dream ended. So I got the tattoo because I guess I like to think I can do and be anything I want.” She shrugged again. “It’s cheesy as hell, I know.”
He brushed his thumb down the mermaid’s tail. Then he leaned forward and kissed her arm. “I like it,” he said simply. And he did. He liked her. And it was a heady, intoxicating feeling.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thanks. But you’re distracting us from the task at hand.”