Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  Dad locked his gaze on me. “A small matter? Is everything okay, Elle?”

  I fought the heat blooming on my cheeks. “Yes.” My teeth locked together, making it hard to reply. “Fine. Penn is just being troublesome.”

  “I’m being troublesome?” He pointed at himself, shaking his head. “I think you’ll find I’m being nothing but cooperative.”

  “If you were being cooperative, you would tell me who you truly are, where you came from, who Larry is, who Stewie belongs to, and what the hell your friend is doing in Fishkill.” I breathed hard, not caring my father watched me as if I was about to snap. I’d already snapped once today, and I bounced on the tightrope to break again. “Tell me the truth, Penn—if that is even your name. Then perhaps we’ll see how cooperative I can be.”

  Silence cloaked the table. My outburst rang in my ears.

  Penn didn’t move.

  Dad shifted in his seat, but I remained locked in a vision battle with the man who’d taken my virginity, kicked me out, then rescued me.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but beneath my hate and dislike and mistrust and wariness was the fluttering of feelings. When he’d washed my feet…I’d softened. When he’d pressed inside me, I’d caved. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he’d affected me more than just physically.

  And I hated that more than anything.

  This isn’t worth it.

  I had a business to run. Greg to deal with. Distractions such as this were a waste of my time.

  Standing, I threw my napkin on my dirty plate and sniffed. “You know what? I no longer care. It was a pleasure getting to know you, Mr. Everett, but I don’t want to see you again.”

  Turning to my father, I added, “We’re not engaged, Dad, nor have we ever been, trust me. I slept with him—you might as well know that, seeing as he’s implied it in every innuendo he could. Do I feel good about that? No. Do I regret it? Yes. Am I pissed he lied to you about our engagement? More than anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m returning to the office where I’m in control and don’t have to put up with men like him—” I pointed a finger at Penn’s carefully schooled expression.

  I didn’t wait for my father’s reply. Or for Penn’s rebuttal.

  As I stalked past tables full of laughing diners, I crushed my heart for flying so fast. I’d done nothing but run away from that man since we’d met.

  I disguised it with bluster and bravery, but really, I was terrified of him.

  Petrified of the way he made me feel beneath my dislike.

  Scared of the way my instincts nudged me harder and harder to look past the man and see someone I thought I’d never find.

  But most of all, I was disappointed in myself.

  Because for the first time, I’d been the one to lie.

  Everything I’d said to my father, every word I’d growled about Penn—wasn’t true.

  I felt good about sleeping with him.

  I didn’t regret a thing.

  And yes, I was annoyed about his lies, but I was more interested in the snippets of truth behind them.

  It didn’t matter now.

  I had other fights to win.

  It’s over.

  28

  CENTRAL PARK HAD two faces.

  The sinful one it showed in silver moonlight with hooded nameless men, and the innocent one where sunshine dappled green grass and children squealed in the distance.

  It’d been so long since I’d strolled through the lush greenery.

  Three years too long.

  Nameless…

  He was in the trees and the breeze.

  He was all around me but never there.

  My heels clipped on the sidewalk, keeping me locked in the fury vortex of the restaurant. Needing to calm my heart rate, I slipped off the pretty pink (but crippling) shoes and switched pavement for turf.

  The springy softness gave simplicity to the complication my life had become over the past few weeks.

  The Tropics restaurant was nestled in a prime position on the border of the park. I had intended to call David immediately to collect me, but then the sunshine promised to calm me before book-keeping and running staff added a different kind of stress.

  I would walk for a bit, soak up some vitamin D, and then call David to return to Belle Elle and deal with the pile of worry I’d left there. I’d cuddle Sage, work until my eyes were too sore, then return home and lock every single door against the world.

  I hadn’t gone far—a few minutes at most when footsteps sounded behind me. Firm and faultless, masculine and moving fast.

  My back tingled as I strode into a faster pace.

  If it was who I thought it was, I didn’t want to talk to him.

  Pacing quicker didn’t help.

  Angry fingers looped around my elbow, yanking me backward. “You don’t get to leave, Elle. Not like that.” His eyes were brighter in the sun—more aged port than oak whiskey. A few lines etched around his mouth as if he struggled just as much as I did.

  Which didn’t make any sense, as he’d been the one messing me around since the beginning. He was the one who’d caused Greg to explode with jealousy and threaten me. He was at fault in all of this.

  I jerked my arm back, breaking his hold. He only let me go because a woman with a stroller narrowed her eyes as she went past. “Stop following me.” I fell into another barefoot stride, cursing him when he matched my rhythm, joining me on the grass, his black shoes glinting in the sun.

  I hated that in his graphite suit with ice blue shirt, he came across as priceless and sharp as a diamond. There were no mistakes in his veneer. No hesitation—as if he held all the clues.

  Which he does.

  “You ask questions, yet didn’t stick around to hear the answers.”

  I snorted. “As if you’d tell me the truth.”

  His fingers looped with mine, pulling me back gently this time.

  I gasped as he ran his thumb over my knuckles. His face softened. His shoulders fell. Somehow, he switched the fight between us into a white flag. The urge to push and push—to crack his façade—paused, willing to accept him in that moment. Mask and all.

  He half-smiled, a mixture of reluctance and tolerance. “Try me. Ask again.”

  I blinked as the sun blinded me, dancing off his hair, hiding his face for a second, so he stood there with no features or belonging to a name.

  He could’ve been anyone.

  He could’ve been Nameless.

  He could’ve been one of the men who mugged me.

  He’s a stranger I let inside me.

  I shuddered at a how irresponsible I’d been. How I’d let myself be glamoured by his fancy games and pretty face. How I’d let lust take ordinary brain cells and transform them into flirtatious floozies.

  I don’t like him.

  I don’t like him.

  I don’t.

  The sun sparkled, burning my lies even as I forced them to be true.

  Tiredness suddenly blanketed me, heavy and thick, stifling and oppressive. There was only one answer I needed to make all the other questions obsolete. Just one. The biggest one of all. “You want me to ask? Fine, I’ll ask.” I inhaled deep and jumped in. “Where you were on the 19th of June three years ago?”

  Nothing happened.

  No trumpets, no choir, no streamers at winning the magical prize for asking the right question.

  There was no flinch or shock or outright denial.

  The date when I’d met Nameless, when I’d kissed him in this very park, meant absolutely nothing to Penn.

  His body remained relaxed, his head cocked curiously to the side. “What?”

  I wanted to tell him to forget it.

  That all my silly sleuthing and ponderings were wrong.

  I had my answer.

  But now I’d ripped off that particular bandage, I couldn’t stop. I had to let it out before it crippled me. “It was my nineteenth birthday. I ran away from Belle Elle for one night alone. I walked, I explored, I
was hurt by two men. A third saved me.” I sucked in a breath as emotions that should’ve subdued and faded by now swelled. “He brought me here. To Central Park. We kissed.” I moved closer.

  He stepped back, his face hardening with things I couldn’t decipher.

  “We ate chocolate. We felt something—”

  “Penn, there you are. You’re sooner than I expected.”

  A man appeared from the passing crowd, holding a remote control airplane with Stewie by his side. The kid clutched a controller as if dying to activate the plane and send it soaring rather than leave it trapped in the older man’s grip.

  Penn exhaled hard, his face etched with things I desperately wanted to understand. His posture had somehow lost its sedate softness, mimicking a granite statue. His mouth a tight line. His fists curled rocks.

  Tearing his gaze away from mine, he visibly struggled to smile. He shoved his hands into his pockets in a mixture of defiance and self-protection—just like another I’d known once upon a time. “Hi, Larry.”

  I jolted.

  Larry.

  So this is Larry.

  My habit of studying people who were either in business or in some way advantageous to me came back. I guessed Larry was in his mid-sixties with salt and pepper hair, stocky build, and intelligence brimming behind black framed glasses. He looked at Penn with utmost fondness and pride.

  Penn took a step back from me.

  Invisible ropes snapped, untethering us with painful ricochets.

  My previous confession vanished as if it’d never been, destined never to be clarified or denied.

  Clearing his throat, Penn regrouped and performed social niceties. “Larry, this is Noelle Charlston. Elle, this is Larry Barns. My benefactor.”

  Two answers in one.

  Larry and I nodded, extending hands to shake. His grip was warm from holding the airplane, his fingers gruff but kind. “Pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  My eyes widened as I flicked a quick glance to Penn. When, how, and why would Penn discuss this sorry excuse of a relationship? Why would he talk to another yet never talk to me?

  Because you’re just a girl in his bed. This man shares his life and secrets.

  I’d never been a jealous person, but I suddenly understood the green acrimony knowing Penn would never let me in like Larry. That I was wasting my time—time I’d stupidly spent when I’d promised myself my heart was impartial to whatever Penn conjured.

  Jumping in before Penn could, I said, “Happy to meet you, too. I’ve heard your name in passing.” A small part of me wanted to hurt Penn; to ruin whatever tales he’d told this man about me. “I must clarify a few things upfront. I’m not engaged to Penn and have no intention of ever doing so.”

  Larry chuckled. “Oh, I know you’re not engaged.”

  I took a step back. “Ah, well, I’m glad. I wasn’t aware what rendition of lies Penn had told you.”

  Penn had the decency to flinch. “I might not have ethics as pure as you, but I don’t lie to Larry. Ever.”

  They shared a look that weighed with countless years, trials, and confidentiality.

  The intimacy made me uncomfortable. Not because they were lovers, like I’d thought, but because they were father and son in every sense of the word. It didn’t matter they had different last names and most likely blood—family was created not born.

  My eyes fell to the boy still hankering after his remote control airplane. His hair tousled in the wind, his eyes bright and happy.

  Stewie was part of that family. Soon—according to Penn—he’d be legally part of it if it were true about an adoption. But that didn’t help unscramble my other questions. If Penn was adopting Stewie, did that mean he knew Stewie's mother and felt obligated? Perhaps, Larry was the one adopting and not Penn? Would that make Stewie his brother?

  What titles did each have in this weird family dynamic? My head hurt trying to figure it out.

  Stewie tucked the controller under his arm, reaching for the airplane in Larry’s hold. “If you guys are gonna stand around talking, I’m gonna fly Bumble Bee.” In typical boy fashion, he hadn’t acknowledged me or noticed the heavy tension between the adults.

  I took a deep breath, ignoring the men and focusing on the boy. “Your plane is called Bumble Bee?”

  Stewie nodded. “Yup.” He pointed at the tail where a hand painted bee in its black and yellow glory glowed.

  “Wow, very cool. Bet it hovers really well.”

  “Nah, it soars.” Stewie grinned. Today, he wasn’t in the suit Penn had had tailored for him. Instead, he wore jeans and a green t-shirt with the slogan, I don’t think outside the box. I never got in it.

  His innocence tugged at a piece of me. I envied him a little. Envied him for being a part of Penn’s life—knowing him in a way I didn’t and probably never would. Even if we did give our connection a chance, how could I ever be sure what he told me was the truth?

  Larry asked, “Did you have a good lunch together?”

  I raised an eyebrow at Penn, letting him answer that. He muttered, “It ended sooner than it should’ve.”

  I nodded at his reply. “It did. But for valid reasons.”

  Larry rubbed his jaw, brushing gray bristles from not shaving this morning. “Ah, I see.” He smiled. “Well, I have no doubt Penn will make up for it, Elle. You don’t mind if I call you Elle, do you?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.”

  “Come on…can I fly?” Stewie shuffled on the spot, eyeing the open grass just down the path.

  Larry chuckled. “Yes, yes, impatient one. Let’s go.”

  Stewie whooped and shot off, carrying the massive plane like he would an oversize puppy with his arms wrapped tight.

  “You’re welcome to come and watch,” Larry invited, motioning for me to join him.

  My first instinct was to shake my head and back away. “Oh, no, that’s all right.”

  But Penn stepped closer, his eyes dazzling in the sun. “Come.”

  He blinded me. Dumbfounded me. Did he always look so resplendent, so persuading? Or was it the warmth of the sunshine and the fact my body heated with now familiar need? I no longer had skin but a map of desire that needed to be touched. “I don’t know—”

  “You want answers, but you’re too afraid to chase them.” He stepped back, withdrawing his overpowering intensity for me to go with them. “I thought you knew how to fight harder than that.”

  His voice deepened on the word fight.

  My ears twitched.

  Was he admitting to something?

  Or was it me merely reading into things again?

  “Come on, Elle. Ten minutes. What’s the harm?” Larry grinned. “I’d be honored to enjoy your company a little longer.”

  My willpower fizzled.

  I found myself nodding. “Okay.”

  29

  STEWIE WAS RIGHT.

  Bumble Bee did soar, climbing past the treeline into the cerulean blue horizon.

  “He’s done that a few times.” I squinted upward, my hand shielding my eyes from the glare.

  “He has. It was his birthday present a few months ago. Every chance he gets, he practices.” Larry clapped as Stewie executed a perfect swan dive and recovery. “He’s obsessive about things he wants. Doesn’t let it go until he’s perfected whatever it is he’s chasing.”

  Penn stood on the other side of Larry, closed off to me, using the excuse to watch Stewie's aerobatics to avoid looking at me.

  Stewie ran forward as the plane caught a gust of air and wobbled mid-flight. He didn’t look where he was going and tripped over a twig in the middle of the field.

  “Oh, no!” I slapped a hand to my mouth as Stewie toppled forward.

  Penn charged.

  With speed not quite human, he scooped Stewie mid-fall and swept him around in a circle using his inertia before placing him on his feet.

  Stewie laughed, high-fived him, and continued flying his plane as if nothing had happened.
<
br />   Yet everything had happened.

  To me, at least.

  In that microsecond when Penn caught Stewie, all shields were down. He was younger, older, kinder, crueler, innocent, and guilty all at once. I saw hints of what I daren’t believe was possible. My heart took over and hammered with hope.

  Each thud was a question.

  What if?

  What if?

  What if?

  What if Penn was Nameless?

  What if Larry had somehow found him, saved him from prison, and done what I’d failed to do?

  What if he’d come back for me?

  But if that was true, why was he so mean? Why so closed off and impenetrable? We’d felt something that night. Something real if only so fleeting. Why punish me?

  Would you listen to yourself?

  You’re making up stories that have no earthly way of being true.

  You’re worse than Disney with your ideals of true love against any odds.

  This is reality, Elle!

  Larry interrupted my inner scalding. “Penn said you have questions that he hasn’t answered yet.”

  I startled. “He admitted to that?”

  “Of course. We’re open about most things.”

  “That’s an honorable thing.” I knitted my fingers together. “He told me you’d come to New York for treatment. Judging by how well you look, I think it worked.”

  Larry ran a hand over his bristle-covered jaw. “I hate that I had to lean on him so much.” His smile was sad. “Nothing has more power than seeing someone you care about sick or grieving.” He shrugged the sudden dysphoria away. “But you’re right. The treatment worked. Thank goodness. I wasn’t prepared to leave just yet. I have too many things to do before I go.”

  “Things?”

  “People and things.” He smiled secretively. “My work, and now Penn’s, is never done.”

  My brain dried up. I had no reply. I didn’t know what he meant or how to ask for clarification.

  “Penn mentioned he’d taken you to the new building he just bought. What did you think?” Larry prompted with a new but just as aggravating subject.

  “What did I think?”

  “All that space. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”