The kitchen crumples like tin foil around me. “What?”
Birdie shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” I shout. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“Because you’re leaving. And her life is elsewhere.”
“Yeah, but…” Fuck, my heart is going to beat out of my chest. That last day with her is replaying itself in a totally different light now. “Why wouldn’t she tell me?”
“Oh my God, Jason. I just got home from school.” She opens the fridge and ducks inside, coming back with a Diet Coke. “I get quizzed enough there.”
“For the love of God, Birdie.”
She points the can at me. “I’m only going to tell you the rest if you fucking do something about Naomi.” The cracks begin to show in her casual act. “You love her.”
“Yes.” I swallow a lump of pain. “She doesn’t love me back.”
“Oh, come on.” She stands up pin straight and pats her hair, speaking with Naomi’s southern drawl. “Please don’t tell Jason. He’s so capable and strong and heroic…I don’t want him to remember me as a poor little rich girl still dependent on her parents.”
My skin is flayed from my body with every single word. “Is that what she said?”
“Yeah, more or less.”
I pace the kitchen, my hands fisting at my sides ready to strike out. Needing to. Christ, I would like to drive to Charleston and wrap my hands around her father’s neck. “How could she believe that bullshit? Before her…I thought I was trapped here. I was trapping myself, though. There’s more here than anywhere. Without the fighting. There’s you, Birdie. There’s what we can be. What I can be. Does she think I would have figured any of this out without her?”
“Dunno.”
“And Naomi. What she did at the pageant—what she did for us—aside…Jesus, she breathes life into everything she touches. This home. The apartment. Me, you, herself. She’s not the same woman who showed up here. And she changed herself. She did that. Never could have done it unless there was already so much damn strength inside of her. It was always there. How could she compare herself to anyone and find herself lacking? It’s…” I drop back against the counter, rocking my suddenly throbbing head in my hands. “She asked me. She asked if I thought she could have made it without my help.”
Birdie is silent for a heavy moment. “What did you say?”
“The wrong thing.”
“Okay.” I look up to find Birdie looking concerned for the first time, and an anchor drops into my stomach. “Don’t tell me what it was. You don’t want a black eye when you go to Charleston to fight for her.” Go to Charleston to fight for her. Is that even a possibility? The dusting of hope brings my surroundings into laser-sharp focus, makes my mouth go dry. While imagining Naomi opening the front door to a giant, Southern estate to greet me, I’ve failed to notice Birdie sitting down at the kitchen table and pecking away on her laptop. She pauses in the act of turning the device around to show me what’s on the screen. “And Jason? I hate to tell you this, but I mean it when I say you’ll have to fight.”
Dread pummels me before I even see the picture. I’m not prepared, though. Nothing on this green earth could prepare me. It’s Naomi on the doorstep of a white mansion, looking like a princess out of a storybook. She’ll never look more beautiful to me than when she’s got messy hair and a sunburned nose, but she’s a vision in a pink sundress, her hair twisted up in the back, hands folded at her waist. I drag my eyes to the man who answered the door and a sound escapes me. It’s Elijah. And he’s ravaged at the sight of her. Of course he is. He hasn’t seen Naomi in months. What man wouldn’t look like a shell of themselves after having and losing her?
I stumble from the kitchen to the driveway, no idea where I’m going. The hope I experienced before is long gone. Buried, along with my chance of getting her back. She went to him. She went back to him. The stairs to her apartment creak under my heavy tread as I climb approximately one step an hour. Might as well drop that final league into misery while surrounded by reminders of Naomi, right? I have nothing left to lose.
When I swing the door open, I catch her scent. No. How is that possible? I have to be imagining it. But it’s there. It’s in the room. Birdie came in and collected the sheets weeks ago, because I couldn’t set foot in the place. Where is the scent coming from? I lose the trail at her bed and reverse back to the kitchen, the closet—
The closet.
I throw it open…and find the wedding dress. Still hanging there.
She left it? Why? Didn’t she keep it because she planned to wear it again? Yeah. Yeah, she confirmed it right in this kitchen. I could never forget that detail. It fucking haunts me.
Was she lying? If not to me, then to herself?
I yank the dress off the rack and hold it to my face, inhaling her, tasting her in my bones. Christ, maybe I’m insane to find hope in this discovery. I can’t help it, though. I’m in love with a woman and I refuse to believe she felt nothing for me. Maybe those feelings won’t be enough to let me keep her. If that’s the case, I’ll find a way to live with that.
Nothing worthwhile comes easy, though. Nothing worthwhile comes without a fight.
And I have just enough fight left in me for one more shot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ReadtheComments.com
Username: TheRappingTheorist
My heart is spontaneously combusting.
Naomi
Being disowned and disinherited was a lot less ceremonious than I expected. After parting ways with Elijah on his doorstep three weeks ago, I simply went home—my hair and clothes drenched from the storm, mascara running—packed my bags and left my parents’ home while my mother screeched threats and insults behind me. There has been no formal letter of banishment from the Clemons clan and I’m sure they know where to find me. Thankfully, my former maid of honor, Harper, had a strong enough yen for the official scoop regarding where I went for two months. Strong enough to let me live in her guesthouse while I figured out my next step. I delivered on the truth and Lord, it felt good to tell someone about Jason and Birdie. By now, word is all over Charleston and frankly, I don’t give a damn.
I’ve been busy over the last three weeks. Not only because I don’t want to live in someone’s guesthouse for long, but because I need action. Distraction. For just a split second every morning before opening my eyes, I think I’m in Jason’s bed in St. Augustine. When reality strikes, my heart is sliced to ribbons all over again. How long is this going to last? Heartbreak doesn’t get better. It doesn’t grow manageable.
I find myself doing little things accidentally on purpose to remind myself of him. Ordering a Budweiser on the nights I go out to eat alone in restaurants. Going down to the ocean off Isle of Palms and sticking my feet in the water. Or searching for his name on a magnet at one of the many downtown tourist stands. I ache every moment of the day for his arms around me and there’s no end in sight.
So I work.
And I crash parties, apparently.
I stare back at myself in the ornate mirror over the restroom sink, resisting the urge to splash cold water on my face and ruin my makeup. On the other side of the door, the swell of an orchestra rises and falls, the gala in full swing. Time to remind myself why I came here tonight. Why I borrowed this silver, floor-length ball gown and Tiffany earrings from Harper and took an Uber to the charity gala where I’m guaranteed to encounter my parents and an avalanche of speculation?
Because I can.
Mostly, however, because Charleston is my home and I’m not going anywhere. If Beauty Queens Unlimited, the pageant coaching business I’ve spent weeks planning and organizing is going to be a success, this town needs to know I have backbone and determination. Maybe I need to continually remind myself of it, too, until I never waver in that belief again.
I take a deep breath and push away from the sink, mentally preparing to show my face in the ballroom for the first time. To see my pa
rents for the first time since leaving home for good. I don’t fault myself for thinking of Jason, picturing how he would give that arrogant stare down at anyone who got in his way. That image causes my chest to pull painfully as I stride through the double doors and into the crowd, heads swiveling in my direction. I lift my chin and let them look. That’s right. I’m not going anywhere. Get used to seeing me. Having Jason in mind is a blessing and a curse in this moment, because it hurts, but nothing thrown my way tonight can be worse than losing him.
The world seems to pulse around me as my mother and I make eye contact. She stands in a circle of friends near an ice sculpture, her mouth hanging open where she left it mid-sentence. I school my features and meet her leaden stare without flinching. I’m grateful for the tick of surprise, maybe even respect, she affords me before turning her back. Everyone witnesses the gesture and knows what it means. I do, too. With a nod, I let the last remaining veil of my old life whisper off my skin and pool on the floor.
A waiter passes and I take the offered flute of champagne, pausing in the middle of my first sip when I notice someone on the opposite side of the room. Someone that is both familiar and unknown to me at the same time. Butterflies unleash in my stomach as Addison’s gaze lifts to mine and stays there. She wets her lips…nervously? No, I can’t possibly make her nervous. She’s at the gala of a woman who hates the very existence of her. Maybe that’s why she’s here. To face it head on, same as me. That possibility and yes, my own courage, pushes me closer.
“Hello,” I begin, splashing a little bit of champagne onto my knuckles when I gesture too broadly. “So…it’s an interesting few months we’ve had, right?”
A surprised laugh puffs out of her. “Oh God. Please don’t make me like you.”
“It’s not a requirement. I promise.” I subdue my smile, but it’s not easy. “Is everyone staring at us?”
Addison flicks a look over my shoulder and sighs. “Yeah.” She leans in. “Fuck ’em.”
We share a slow smile. It’s the first time that I notice a resemblance between us, courtesy of us having the same father. Subtle. Just a stubborn chin. But she notices it, too, and we both take long swigs of our drinks. The polite socialite in me wants to change the subject to something more pleasant, but this new Naomi? She doesn’t let opportunities pass. “I’m not going to make a big emotional scene or anything, Addison. Not when we’re standing here like two bugs under a microscope,” I say for her ears alone. “I do have a couple of things to say, though, and I hope you’ll listen and know I mean every word.”
After a moment, she nods.
I command my racing pulse to slow down, but it only seems to speed up. “We might not know each other, but you are my sister. You’re family. And I just wanted you to know I acknowledge you and…” I shake my head. “More than that, I admire you. I don’t know if you want this on your head or not, but you gave me the bravery to leave the church. One look through the window. I could tell you’d been through a trial and I wanted…one ounce of the courage you showed walking up those steps. I wanted to go out and earn it.”
It takes her a long time to respond. “It appears you did,” she says on a shaky exhale. “Thank you. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that.”
Elijah approaches, dapper in a tuxedo, and slides an arm around Addison’s back, natural as breathing. Whispers whip around us like industrial fans. How it must look to everyone—the love triangle of the decade—when in reality, it’s simply a man, the woman he loves, and another woman who unwittingly played a role in uniting them. Seeing them together inspires a yearning in me so deep for Jason, I almost can’t speak. “Good evening, Mr. Mayor.”
“Naomi. It’s a pleasure.” He trades a look with Addison, and whatever passes between them brings a rush of warmth to his eyes. Gratitude, I see, as he turns toward me. “Rumor has it you’ve started coaching pageant contestants full time. You’ll be sure to let us know how we can help you along.”
“Yes,” Addison adds. “I’d love to help. I’m not too bad myself at sparkling things up.”
Witnessing the way Elijah and Addison gravitate toward each other, the burden of missing Jason is too heavy all of a sudden. I’m back in this place where everything is so familiar…except I’m no longer the same. My crutches of popularity and family and banal small talk are no longer options. And while I would never wish for those things back in lieu of my new foundation, I go back and forth between a place of strength and feeling like a lamb in the eye of a hurricane, ready to be swept off. Lord, I’m just so lonely without him.
“Well,” I say too loudly. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Taking a chance, I lean in and kiss Addison’s cheek. “I hope you know I wish nothing but the best of luck for you both.”
“Thank you. I…believe you.” Brows drawn together, Addison gives me a quick hug. “Dammit. I guess we have to see more of each other. It’s going to be awful.”
“The worst,” I return on a laugh.
My half-sister steps back and Elijah comes closer, giving me a polite kiss on the cheek, a brief hug. It’s the warm closure I wasn’t even aware I needed, but all I can think of the arms I crave having around me. The ones belonging to the man who knows me better than anyone.
“I know that look,” Addison murmurs to Elijah’s right, her gaze ticking toward the door and widening, turning thoughtful. “And I wonder if the gentleman who just walked in has anything to do with it.” Her lips twist in a teasing smile. “Am I crazy, Naomi? Or is he making it pretty obvious he’s here for you?”
It doesn’t even occur to me she could be talking about Jason. Maybe a tabloid reporter or an associate of my father’s preparing to deliver a rebuke disguised as a compliment. I’ve been on the receiving end of plenty of those in the last few weeks. Because of that, I almost don’t even turn around. Thank God I do, though. Thank God.
Just inside the double doors of the ballroom, Jason stands out like a bolt of lightning in an otherwise clear blue sky. My legs almost give out beneath me he’s so beautiful. Lord. Oh Lord. He’s wearing formal Army dress, the left side of his olive-green jacket decorated with colorful medals, hair combed back, beard trimmed. Gray eyes riveting. If possible, he’s even more of a gravitational pull than he is in a wetsuit or jeans. He’s just so much.
And he’s looking at me as if he’s just lost purchase and is sliding down the side of a cliff.
*
Deep down, I didn’t believe she’d go back to him. Here it is, though. Confirmation of my worst fears. A nightmare so much worse than the recurring ones I’ve had for years, happening right in front of me. I have no choice but to face this headfirst, though. I came here ready to fight for my life—Naomi—so bring it on.
The fact that she looks elegant on a level I’ve never witnessed up close…and that fucker Elijah looks like he belongs by her side…does not help. Whatsoever. It’s taking every ounce of restraint I possess not to storm forward and rip them further apart. She’s mine. The fact that everyone in this fucking room doesn’t know she’s mine is so offensive to me, I want to bellow until the chandeliers shake.
“Jason?” Naomi whispers, turning. “I-I…what are you doing here? I…”
Her whisper of my name is enough to halt the room’s motion and I vaguely notice heads turning our way, one by one. I don’t care about any of it. I’m too busy soaking up the sight of her as I walk closer, counting the seconds until I can smell her, run my eyes over her skin up close—to hell with the fact that she belongs to another man now. I know she’s mine. I know it.
When I get within reaching distance of her, I stop, the speech I practiced on my drive to Charleston forgotten. Completely lost in the presence of this woman I love beyond reason.
“You could have made it in Florida without me. You could have built a kingdom, ruled it and thrived. I was just the lucky son-of-a-bitch who opened the door and got to keep you for a while. You challenged me to be more. I’m more because of you, but I’m nothing—nothing—wi
thout you.” Emotion clogs my throat, but I continue anyway. “That’s what I should have said to you. That’s what you deserved to hear and I’m sorry my weak moment brought you down, baby. Brought us down.” My attention lands on Elijah and he raises an eyebrow at the probable hatred I’m sending him. “I’ve come to make her mine. You’re welcome to try and stop me.”
Naomi, Elijah and a brunette standing nearby all trade a confused look.
“Oh, Jason,” Naomi breathes, her eyes closing briefly. “Please let me introduce you to Addison Potts. Elijah’s girlfriend.”
“His…” The concrete that has been filling every square inch of space inside me cracks and crumbles, the sudden loss of tension almost knocking me over. “You’re not back together?”
She shakes her head and color infiltrates my world again, my lungs expanding with renewed breath. Not together. She didn’t go back to him. My God. “No,” she says with the hint of a smile. “No, he’s with the person he was meant to be with.”
“And what about you?” I say hoarsely. When I don’t get an answer, I reach deep for the speech I’ve been working on for a week. No more fucking around. She didn’t go back to her ex-fiancé and doesn’t seem upset over the loss. Not at all. I’m afraid to translate that into her still feeling something for me. But I still have to take my shot. Look at her. Look at her. She’s worth getting on my knees for. “Naomi, if I didn’t fulfill my obligations, I wouldn’t be a man worthy of you. I’m going back overseas, because I said I would. I committed, just like I’m committed to you. And there are men counting on me. But I’m asking you…no, I’m begging you to wait for me.” She presses a hand to her chest, saying nothing. “I know I’m asking you for a huge sacrifice, baby. To give your time. To give up your family and security. So I’ll make a sacrifice, too. Charleston is your home, so I’ll make it mine, too. I’ll move my business here. I’ll do anything to make you happy if you can…if you can just wait for me. We will have family and security together. We will build those things together.”
Runaway Girl Page 28