by Megyn Ward
“Isn’t that more like reciting?” She looks up at me, a small smile curving the line of her mouth for just a moment.
“I guess if you want to get technical about it,” I say, my mouth going a little dry when she starts to scoot across the bed to lie in the center of it. Turning onto her side, she lies down and faces me. Like a complete idiot, I just stand there and stare at her like I don’t know what happens next. Like I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
“Come here, Conner.”
I nod at her, swallowing hard against the panic, rising in my throat. How long have I waited for her to say that to me? How many times have I lay awake and thought about what it would be like to be here? Too many for even me to count.
And you’re gonna puss out now? Stop being a bitch, take off your goddamned boots and get in bed.
Lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I pull off my boots and tuck them under her bed before scooting back until I’m lying next to her, gaze aimed at the ceiling. “What—” I barely get the word out, my throat is so dry. “What do you want to hear?”
I feel her shift closer to me a moment before her fingers weave themselves between mine. “You know,” she whispers, her cheek coming to rest on my shoulder.
Gatsby.
Opening my arms, I pull her closer. Wait for her to settle against me before I start from the beginning, reciting from memory.
“In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice…”
Forty-seven
Henley
When I wake up, he’s gone. Propped against my squawking alarm clock is a piece of paper, Conner’s handwriting scrawled across the front of it. Turning off my alarm, I lift the piece of paper and study it. Another mathematical equation. Not Schrödinger’s, but still one I recognize.
It’s the equation on the white board on his room. I saw it the night I climbed his fire escape. At the end of a very long, very complex string of number and symbols is an answer that seems deceptively simple.
10500 .
Folding the piece of paper, I tuck it away with a smile. Only Conner would see quantum mechanics as a viable form of communication.
In the kitchen I find coffee, still fresh and hot. The dishwasher is unloaded. The trash taken out. Next to the coffee pot is a bag from the bakery a few blocks away. Inside it is a fresh croissant. It makes me wonder if he slept at all. How long he was here. When he left.
Pouring myself a cup, I carry it and the pastry back into my bedroom to get ready for work. On impulse I set the cup and bag down on my nightstand and reach for my phone to send him a text. There’s a text from Jeremy sitting in my in-box from last night, but I ignore it. After yesterday, I’m not in the mood to talk to him.
Your mood has nothing to do with it. You don’t want to talk to Jeremy because he reminds you that you have a real life and Conner doesn’t have a place in it.
Pushing the truth aside, I text Conner.
Me: Thank for breakfast.
Trying not to think too hard about it, I add.
Me: And the bedtime story.
He texts back almost immediately.
Conner: You’re welcome.
Conner: For both.
Grinning at my phone like an idiot, a third text rolls through.
Conner: Lunch? I can’t
promise I’ll be more fun
than chicken Caesar
salad and Mahjong
Titans but I’ll try.
If I’m not meeting Tess, salad and computer games is exactly how I spend my lunch hour. Alone. In my office.
Me: Do I want to know
how you know how I
spend my lunch hour?
Conner: Probably not.
Pick you at noon.
Me: See you then.
Putting my phone down, I carry my coffee and croissant into the bathroom to finish getting ready for work.
There’s a knock on my office door and I look up to see a page standing in my open doorway. “There’s someone at the front desk, asking for you,” she says when I look up from the email I’m reading. “Some guy with flowers.”
I glance at the clock on my computer and smile. It’s 11:30. Being early seems to be a habit of his. “Okay, thanks, Becky,” I say, wondering what kind of flowers he’s brought me this time. Whatever they are, they probably look like turkeys or something else that has to do with Thanksgiving. Laughing, I swipe my mouse across its pad to close down my computer. “Tell him I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
As soon as she leaves, I shrug into my jacket and gather my purse. Inside of it, my phone buzzes. Checking it, I find another text from Jeremy. I don’t open it. Shoving my phone back into my purse, I sling the strap over my shoulder and head for the elevator. On the way down, my phone buzzes again. Officially annoyed, I dig it out, prepared to tell Jeremy to give it a rest. That I have a job here. A life and he can’t just expect me to—
The elevator doors slide open and I step out of the car. The first thing I see is a huge bouquet of pink roses, at least two dozen of them. The next thing I see is Margo, sitting behind the information desk. She’s looking at the man holding the flowers like he has two heads and four arms.
Jeremy.
He lowers the bouquet and gives me a sheepish grin. “There she is,” he says, reaching for me as soon as I’m close enough to touch. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me on the lips and I let him because that’s what we do. We put on a show. Pretend to be in love. But as soon as he kisses me, I remember. I know what Conner was trying to tell me last night. How wrong it feels to have someone else put his mouth on me. Even if it’s just Jeremy.
“What are you doing here?” I say as soon Jeremy pulls back to look at me.
He gives me a grin. “I missed my girl,” he tells me, his tone light and playful. “I thought I’d fly down and spend a few days. Let you show me the Liberty Bell…” Jeremy sets me away from him and gives my outfit a head-to-toe look. I can practically feel his disapproval crawling over me. “What are you wearing? Did you run out of skin cream?” His gaze skims my face with genuine concern. “You should’ve said something. I would’ve called your derma—”
“There’s a foot of snow outside, Jer.” My gaze follows his, traveling over my dark wash jeans, sweater and weatherproof boots. Feeling annoyed again, I sigh. “And I didn’t run out. I just stopped—”
“The Liberty Bell is in Philadelphia.”
As soon as I hear his voice my gut seems to grow fingers. Uses them to tear and claw its way up my throat.
Conner is standing behind Jeremy. Staring right at me.
Forty-eight
Conner
Numbers have always made sense to me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve understood them. Their purpose. Their meaning. There’s a purity to them that I find reassuring. Logic. Symmetry. Balance.
The first time I saw Schrödinger’s equation, I felt this rush. Like the universe finally made sense. Like I understood my purpose. Why I’m here.
I felt the exact same way that day in front of Henley’s building. The first time I tried to connect with her. Tried to talk to her. Like it was right.
Like we were right.
Belonged together.
To each other.
Looking at her now, I still feel it. That sense of rightness. That feeling of peace only she can give me. A connection that makes sense. Makes me feel solid. Real.
But it’s a lie.
“It’s a common mistake,” I say when all they do is stare at me. I focus on him because I can’t look at her. I don’t think I can stand to watch her look through me right now. Not without flipping the fuck out. “A lot of people think it’s on the Freedom Trail. It’s not.” I do everything I can to keep my tone casual. Friendly.
“Thanks for the history lesson,” Jeremy says, turning to look at me while slipping his arm around Henley’s waist. He looks exactly the way I remember him. Wheat-colored hair. Blue eyes set just a little too close together. Strai
ght, aristocratic nose. Thin, WASPish upper-lip. Perfect, white teeth. I open my mouth to say something. I’m not sure if I’m going to tell him to fuck off or tell him you’re welcome, but it doesn’t matter.
“Jeremy,” Henley says, shifting away from him slightly. I think it’s supposed to make me feel better. It doesn’t. “This is my friend, Conner.” Behind the information desk, Margo practically chokes on her on tongue. “Conner, this is my fiancé. Jeremy.” Now Margo sounds like she swallowed her tongue whole. When all we do is stare at each other, Henley clears her throat. “Actually, Conner is here to take me to lunch,” she says, looking up at him from under the arm he has wrapped around her, her chin grazing his shoulder. She’d never let me touch her like that in public. Like I owned her. Like she belongs to me. “You should’ve called, Jer. I would’ve told—”
“I’ve been calling and texting all morning, love,” he chides her gently, but a dark cloud roll over his features before it’s chased away by a sunny grin. “You keep dumping me into voicemail.”
“I’m at work, Jeremy.” She pushes away from him, aiming a glare in his direction. “I can’t just—”
“I’ll let you two catch up.” I break in because I can’t take it anymore. I have to get the fuck out of here but as soon as I say it, Henley’s gaze cuts over and lands on me, pinning me in place.
“You don’t have to leave,” she says, shaking her head. “We—”
“Yeah, you should stay,” Jeremy says, his tone indulgent, like he’s doing me a favor somehow. “We can all go to lunch together.” He slips his arm around Henley’s waist again. “My treat.”
I won’t make it another fifteen seconds within striking distance of this guy without taking a swing. Attempting lunch would undoubtedly end in an assault charge.
“Some other time.” I shake my head, gaze pinned to the enormous bouquet of roses in Henley’s hand. It makes me think about the stupid spider mums I gave her a few weeks ago.
He’s better than you in almost every way.
“Conner, please—”
“Some other time.” I say it again, forcing myself to look at her, a smile on my face. “It was good to see you again, Bradford.”
Before either of them can say anything else, I walk away.
I drive to Benny’s and grab a couple of burgers to go before heading back to the garage. As usual, Tess has her music cranked up. November Rain by Guns & Roses. That can only mean one thing and she confirms it when she sees my shadow falling across the concrete floor of the garage.
“Jesus Christ.” She mutters it, leaning further into the engine of the car she’s putting back together. “I accepted your apology, Declan. What more do you want from me?”
“Wrong brother.”
When she hears my voice, Tess’s shoulders go tight. She expects me to go ballistic. Start peppering her with questions about what happened while I was gone. Why Declan was here. What he wanted. When I don’t, her shoulders relax, and she lifts her head and gives me a crooked grin. “Don’t you mean better brother?”
“Same thing.” I show her the bag I’m holding. “Take you to lunch?”
“Our usual spot?” She laughs, slamming the hood of the car closed before digging her bandana out of her back pocket to rub the excess grease off her hands.
“Of course.” I lower myself and sit cross-legged on the cold concrete, watching while she crosses the garage to disappear into the little room where we keep the washer and dryer. I can hear her wash up, using the shop sink next to the dryer while I rip the bag of burgers and onion rings open and divide them, giving Tess the lion’s share.
“Beer?” I can hear her rooting around in the fridge, digging through the mismatched assortment of bottles and cans, looking for something she likes.
“Water.” I still feel weird about drinking, like I’m breaking my promise, even though Henley lifted her embargo weeks ago.
A bottle of water appears over my shoulder. “So,” Tess says when I take it. “You want to tell me why you’re not having lunch with Little Orphan Annie?” She circles around to sit on the floor across from me.
I shrug, picking up my burger and unwrap it. “You want to tell me why my dickface brother was here?”
She shrugs back, shoving an onion ring into her mouth. “He wanted to apologize for going Neanderthal Man last night,” she says around the food in her mouth.
“And?”
“And nothing.” She shoved another onion ring into her mouth. “He said sorry, I accepted. That’s it.”
That’s not it. It never is with Declan and Tess. Instead of pushing the issue, I let it go. I’m the last person who should be offering anyone relationship advice. “Turns out, Henley had other lunch plans,” I say instead, cracking the lid on my water bottle.
Her gaze shoots over my shoulder for a second before finding my face again. “Some dandy-looking asshole with a pinched face and a fancy suit?”
I set my water down and turn.
Bradford is walking across the tarmac, headed straight for the open bay door. Behind him I can see a car, a somber-looking chauffer waiting patiently in the cold.
“Tess, this is Jeremy Bradford,” I say when he comes to stand a few feet away. “The fiancé.” I don’t stand up. I stay where I am because standing up anywhere near this fucker will inevitably lead to me catching an aggravated assault charge. “Bradford, this is Tesla Castinetti. The best friend.”
Tess gives him a little wave with her burger before practically biting it in half.
“Charmed.” Bradford gives her the kind of nervous smile you give a wild animal before refocusing his attention on me. “I think we should talk. In private.”
“No.” I shake my head, laughing up at him. “You don’t want to be alone with me, Bradford.”
“I think you and I have things to say to one another that should be said in confidence.” A stress line appears between his eyebrows. He’s not used to people telling him no and he’s not sure what to do now that someone has. “Please, it will only take—”
“You’re not hearing me, Bradford.” I finally push myself off the floor. “Where you and I are concerned, in plain view and with plenty of witnesses is the best course of action.” Behind me, I can hear Tess scramble to her feet. She’ll follow my lead, wherever it takes her. “Because this is not a safe place for you.”
As soon as he gets what I’m saying, Bradford blanches, his face losing color so fast, I think he might pass out. “Very well.” He recovers quickly, smoothing his palms down the front of his jacket. “I’ll keep it short. I’m assuming Henley told you the… particulars about our relationship.”
“That you’re gay and paying her to marry you because your family is a bunch of uptight assholes?” Tess says, beating me to it. “Yeah. She mentioned it.”
Bradford’s pallor slips another shade. “Yes, well—it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He clears his throat. “There is a considerable amount of—”
“Money.” Again, Tess pipes up. “Yeah, I got that. But if you ask me, money is a poor substitute for freedom.”
Deciding his best bet is to ignore Tess and the uncomfortable truths she’s spouting at him, Bradford focuses on me. “I’m wondering as to the nature of your feelings for Henley.”
The nature of my feelings for Henley?
I’m not sure if I should laugh in his face or just give in and start choking him.
In the end, when all I do is stand here and stare at him, Bradford clears his throat. “I understand that your involvement is sexual in nature. I’m asking if you have actual feelings for her or if this is just—”
“You should leave now.” I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest. Tucking my hands under my arms and squeeze. Imagining they’re latched around Bradford’s throat. “Because I’m not really caring if someone sees me kill you right now.”
“I know about your family.” His gaze slips past me for a moment, falling on Tess. “That your father passed you over and gave your
cousin the bulk of your family fortune.”
Jesus. It’s like this guy wants me to kill him.
“Your point?” I give him a bland smile to cover up the fact that it stings. Not so much the fact that my dad gave everything to Cap’, but why. Because he’s afraid of what will happen to our family after he’s gone. Because my brother and I can’t be trusted. But most of all because it was the right thing to do.
“I’ll give you fifteen million dollars to break things off with her.” Jeremy says it in a rush, like he’s ripping off a bandage. “I can only give you five now, but as soon as Henley and I are married, I can—”
A tiny, dark-haired blur in grease-stained coveralls streaks past me and I barely have time to unlock my arms from around my chest to catch her in time to stop her from launching herself at Bradford.
“You can take your money and shove it up your fancy, billion-dollar ass,” Tess snarls at him, arms and legs flailing against the arm I have snaked around her waist. “You think you can buy her like a goddamned pet? From us?” She’s yelling now, her voice bouncing around the garage before tumbling out the open door. “We’re her family.” She lunges again, nearly breaking free of the hold I have on her. “She’s one of us, even if she’s forgotten what that means.”
I look at Bradford, his face as white as a sheet, pale blue eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. I suddenly feel sorry for him because he has no idea. He doesn’t know what real family is. What it feels like to have people in your life who will kill and die for you. People you’d do the same for without batting an eye.
“I think you have your answer,” I say, tightening my hold on Tess. Not because she needs it but because I do. “Time for you to leave.”
Forty-nine
Henley
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
I look up from the plate of lobster risotto I’m picking my way through and glare at him. As soon as Conner left, I told Jeremy I’d meet him at the apartment after work and went back to my office, doing my best to ignore the way Margo was looking at me. Like I disappointed her.