by R. S. Lively
I lift my knee up sharply, burying it in Jace's stomach. It shocks him enough that he loses his grip on me, and curls backward. I take the opportunity to scramble away from him. Without thinking, I dip into Cade's bedroom and lock the door behind me. Within seconds, I hear Jace kicking the door. I know it won't withstand the pressure for long, but I don't need it to. I yank the vanity table out of the way, and duck into the passage. Using the handle Cade and I had discovered on the back of the panel, I pull the table back into place. Closing the entrance plunges me into complete darkness, but I can't think about it. I don't have the time to be afraid of the dark. I have to move.
Pressing my hands to the walls on either side of me, I start down the passage. My feet slip on the first set of steps, but I catch myself and keep going. I can hear Jace shouting, but his voice is muffled by the walls, and I can't make out what he's saying. Finally, I make it to the hidden study. The entrance is standing open from the last time we used it, and I slip through into the room. With no window, the room is extremely dark, but I can feel my way along the wall until I find the light switch. The light is reassuring, calming me down enough that I feel my shaking slowing.
I sit on the floor by the panel of the wall that leads out into the hallway, my ear pressed against it so I can listen to what's happening in the rest of the house. Each infuriated scream and crash makes me jump, but I press my hand over my mouth to keep myself from making any noise. I know Jace couldn't get to me even if he figured out where I was, but I don't want to take any chances.
What feels like hours pass before finally, the house falls silent. I stay where I am, not moving, not making a sound for several more minutes. Finally, I climb to my feet and turn off the light before opening the wall panel just enough for me to slip out. When the panel is in place again, I creep carefully down the hallway, still sensing I'm not alone. When I turn the corner from the hallway, toward the back staircase, I see a shadowy figure standing at the bottom of the stairs. A sudden surge of anger and defensiveness swells inside me, and I run down the first few steps before launching myself at Jace. I let out a scream as I clamp onto his back and start pounding on his shoulders, one of my arms wrapped around his face and over his mouth.
Grunting and mumbling against my arm, he flails and spins around, trying to buck me off him. Piles of wood, cans of paint, and containers of tools fall and scatter across the floor. I feel myself slipping, but grip harder, wrapping my legs around his waist and clamping my ankles together. At this point, I'm not sure what I intend to do. I hadn't thought this all the way through when I jumped, but now I'm committed. All I can hope is that somehow I can wrangle him toward the front door, get him outside, and disentangle myself without him gaining control.
We've made our way closer to the front of the house, and my arm slides down from his mouth.
"Fiona!" It's not Jace's voice screaming at me. Oops. "Get off me!"
Just as I'm processing that I've been riding Cade around the house like a bucking bronco, Jace steps out of the dark living room. He swings a leftover plank from the floor, hitting Cade on the shoulder and narrowly missing me. I drop down off of Cade and watch as he lunges toward Jace. The two men clash, smashing into the walls and floor as they fight. They scramble to their feet, and I rush toward them. Balling up my fist, I swing toward Jace. He ducks, and Cade lets out a grunt as my fist comes in contact with his temple.
"I'm sorry!" I gasp. "I'm sorry, Cade! That wasn't meant for you! I'm sorry!"
"Fiona."
"I'm sorry!"
"Fiona."
"Are you OK?"
"Fiona! Stop apologizing and call the police."
I feel for my phone in my pocket, then remember I'm in my pajamas and my phone is still upstairs under my pillow. Running past the men, I get to my room as fast as I can and grab the phone.
"Intruder!" I yell when the operator answers. "Intruder!"
It's another little life lesson I remember from Grammie. The one word emergency responders react to the most is 'intruder'. The woman didn't mind leaving the whole house unlocked, and the windows flung open with the absolute certainty that nothing dangerous would ever happen, but she sure as hell had a plan for if it did.
By the time I rattle out the address, I hear a heavy thud, and the house goes quiet. Still gripping the phone to my ear, I tiptoe out of the room and to the stairwell. Cade sits on a stair a few from the bottom, and I see Jace lying in a heap on the floor at his feet.
"I think the intruder is unconscious," I say.
"And the other man?"
"He seems alright. He's just sitting there."
"Alright. We have police and ambulance on the way."
"Thank you."
I end the call and run down the stairs toward Cade. Sitting down behind him, I wrap my arms around him.
"Are you OK?" I ask.
He turns toward me, and I see a narrow trail of blood trickling down his face, and a few bruises forming on his skin. I gasp, but he shakes his head.
"I'm fine, Fi," he says.
"Is there anything I can do?"
Taking my hand, Cade brings it to his lips and kisses it.
"Never try to rescue me again."
18
Cade
I shake the police officer's hand one last time, watching as he walks toward his car before shutting the door to the house and turning the lock. In the distance, I can still hear the whine of the ambulance siren bringing Jace to the hospital. Once they patch him up, he'll be turned over to the police to face a nice little checklist of charges. Turning to Fiona, I open my arms to her, and she rushes into them. She buries her face in my chest, and I hear her let out a shaky breath.
"You should have let the paramedics look at you," she chides.
"I'm fine," I reiterate for probably the thousandth time that hour. "Your punch was the worst blow I took tonight. For all his pomp and circumstance, Jace was really a bit of a lightweight."
"We made such a mess," she groans.
"That's alright. We'll fix it. Together."
She leans back and cautiously looks up into my eyes.
"You never messaged me back."
"I know," I say. "I've been in meetings all day, and I didn't even look at my phone until I got home."
"Why did you come back so late?"
"The picture you sent me."
She smiles.
"I was hoping you would…"
"It showed how much trouble you're having."
Fiona's mouth drops open, and she steps back away from me.
"What?" she snaps.
"In the picture you sent me. I saw all the of the issues you're having with these projects. I just had to come and try to salvage them."
She looks horrified, and I finally laugh.
"I'm kidding," I say. "I've been here every couple of days since you left, but not since Grammie told me you were back. I didn't know if you'd want to see me. But then you messaged me. When I got it, I couldn't stay away from you any longer. I came right here."
Fiona smiles and takes my hands.
"It's alright. I can admit, I was in a little over my head. I thought I was doing well, but I might have hit a bit of a wall."
"I know you don't have much time. You probably need to get back to work. I'm happy to stay and help you, if you’d like."
She shakes her head.
"No?" I ask. "You don't want me to stay?"
"No, I don't have to get back to work."
"You don't?"
"I don't have work to get back to. I quit my job and subleased my apartment. I'm surprised Grammie didn't tell you."
"I think she is a little hesitant to tell me much about you," I say.
"Except that I'm here."
I shrug.
"She's selective with her gossip."
I pull Fiona closer, wanting to wrap myself around her again.
"I would love for you to stay," she says.
"For how long?"
"However long you want to."
"How about forever?"
I lean down and touch my lips to hers, drawing her in for a kiss I want to last just as long.
"I love you, Cade," she whispers when our lips part.
"I love you, Fiona. I always have. I always will."
I catch her mouth for another deep kiss, and Fiona nestles her head into me again.
"You came back," she murmurs into my chest. "You came back for me."
Six months later…
Every time I have ever thought about bridal gowns, which admittedly hasn’t been too many times in my life, they’re always white. Somehow, though, when I see the pastel pink pantsuit stepping gracefully down the aisle, it seems completely appropriate. I smile at Fiona, who grins back at me over the flowers she holds. Tears glitter in her eyes, but she's trying to hold them back. As much as she's trying, I see one slip down her cheek as she reaches out and takes the bouquet from Grammie's hand.
Smiling brightly from beneath a sequined blusher, Grammie steps up to the altar and links her hands with Arthur's. The couple blocks my view of the maid of honor, but I lean around to catch another glimpse of her from my place standing beside the groom. The ceremony is brief, but the love and excitement in the room after Grammie and Arthur share a sweet kiss is obvious. Clasping hands, they walk down the three steps from the altar, and toward the front pew. A silver ribbon blocks the entrance to the pew, ensuring none of the guests went into it when they sat down, but it isn't empty. I can't see them from where I'm standing, but I know two display boxes are sitting on the bench. Each contains a white handkerchief embroidered with a name – Rupert on one, Jillian on the other. Grammie and Arthur pause at the pew and each draws a long-stemmed white rose from a basket sitting at the edge of the aisle. Kissing them tenderly, they rest the roses onto the handkerchiefs. There is a breathless beat as the newlyweds honor their beloveds in such a profoundly beautiful way, even as they move forward with each other.
Taking her hand again, Arthur gives Grammie another kiss, and they continue their way down the aisle. Music swells around them, and I feel my heart soar. Across the aisle from me, I see Fiona has completely given up on trying not to cry. Tears stream down her face as she applauds, and she laughs as she looks at me. I reach my hand out to her, and she takes it so we can make our way back up the aisle as well. Behind us, the throngs of friends and family who have come to celebrate with the happy couple make their way out of the ceremony and toward the reception hall.
After the peace and elegance of the ceremony, the reception is joyously the opposite. Flashing lights, loud music, and a flowing bar have everyone dancing, singing, and celebrating, but in the chaos, I lose track of Fiona. It's not until people have started filtering toward the buffet that I’m able to find her again. Grabbing her hand, we run out of the crowd and toward one of the lounge areas scattered throughout the venue. We drop down breathlessly onto a plush velvet couch and lean in to share a brief kiss.
"What do you think of all this?" I ask as she drops her head down to rest on my shoulder.
"It's crazy," she says. "But it's definitely Grammie."
I laugh, nodding.
"Yes, it is. But what about us? Is this what you want our wedding to be like?"
She shakes her head.
"No." Glancing down at the diamond on her hand, she gets a softer smile on her lips. "I want something smaller. Something just about us."
A loud cheer from the dancefloor draws our attention, and we turn to see Esme sitting in a chair being bounced around by several of the men.
"I don't know," I say. "That might have to happen."
Fiona laughs and kisses me another time before we return to the celebration.
By the time we get back to Grammie's house, we are both exhausted, but not tired enough to stop me from making love to her hot, slick body in the shower as we wash away the wedding. Satisfied and content, we curl up on the couch in front of the fireplace. As the wood crackles and dancing light fills the dark room around us, I know the hours spent in the blistering sun chopping this summer were totally worth it. Fiona sighs happily and melts against me, cuddling closer under the thick blanket. I touch a kiss to the top of her head.
"I love you," I murmur.
She sits up suddenly.
"Here," she says, her eyes wide.
"What?" I ask.
"Here," she repeats, looking around. "It's perfect."
"I thought you were moving into my house after we get married," I say, "but if you want to stay here, that's fine."
"No, not for after we get married. For when we get married. Let's have our wedding here. This is where we met. It's where we fell in love. Both times."
I shake my head.
"Only one time," I say. "I only fell in love with you once. I never fell out. I just fell deeper." I kiss her, letting my tongue dip into her mouth. I will never get enough of her taste. "I think it's perfect. If this is what you want, this is where we'll get married."
She smiles happily and settles back down to cuddle with me. A few seconds later she makes a sound like a sad coo.
"What's wrong?"
"What's going to happen to the house after the wedding?" she asks. "Grammie is moving to Florida in just a few weeks."
Since she is no longer welcome in the retirement community, Arthur is having a house renovated for them. It sits on the edge of his orange orchard, and I know Grammie is looking forward to this new chapter of her life.
"I don't know. I can't picture us selling it."
"No," Fiona says. "I can’t bear to let it go. It means too much to me."
"We could just pick the whole thing up and put it on the grounds of my house. Then our children can use it as a playhouse."
Fiona laughs, shaking her head.
"You are such a freaking snob."
"You know, we're probably just going to end up with all of Grammie's friends at the wedding."
"And Esme."
"And Franklin and Mr. Norton."
"He has a first name."
"Not in my head."
"That's alright. That sounds perfect to me. It doesn't matter who's there. As long as I have you."
"Nothing will ever keep me away."
Our lips meet briefly, and I rest back on the couch, holding Fiona tight against me. It took so long for us to get here, but there wasn't a second that wasn't worth all that we have ahead.
Epilogue
Fiona
Three years later…
I cock my head. "It still doesn't look right."
My husband groans. "I know it doesn't, Fiona."
"What’s wrong with it?"
"I don't know."
"You have the instructions right in front of you!"
Cade gives an exasperated sigh, and glares at me.
"Those instructions are extremely misleading. They don't make any goddamn sense."
I watch as he tries to pry apart two of the pieces of the playhouse after realizing he spent the last fifteen minutes putting them together incorrectly. Considering that is all the progress we've made on the playhouse so far, I don't have very high hopes for it getting done today. The rest of the pieces are spread out across the grass around us, many of them obscured by the late afternoon shadow cast by Cade's house. That shadow wasn't there when we first started. Neither was the borderline homicidal scowl on my husband's ordinarily handsome face.
I look back at the patio where Grammie, tanned and golden from her days spent walking around the orange grove, sits with our precious daughter in her lap. Arthur is beside her, poking hamburgers on a grill like he's waiting for one of them to tell him they're finished. Cade is a good man for turning his grill over to Arthur today. Of course, he only did it because he was going to be busy building the playhouse he is most definitely not building, so I'm not sure how long Arthur will remain the Honorary Man of Flame.
"Ruby is only eight months old," I tell him. "I don't think she needs a playhouse yet."
"She's going to be running ar
ound before you know it, and I want her to have a house to play in."
I gesture toward the sprawling mansion in front of us.
"Like that ten-bedroom house right there? With a drawing room? Why can't she play in the drawing room?"
"She deserves her own house to play in." The pieces finally separate, and he grabs the instructions. Reading over them, he picks up another piece. "These are exactly the fucking same."
"Give me the instructions. Maybe I can figure it out."
Cade snaps, "I am perfectly capable of building a boxed, prefabricated playhouse, Fiona."
"Can you? The evidence isn't looking good for you."
"I completely converted the basement and the attic at Grammie's house. I repaired the stairs and the floor and the outside. I also found and reopened three secret passages."
"I know," I say, running my hand across his back to comfort him. "You did an amazing job with that house."
"You know, at this point, it really would have been easier to just pick up that house and bring it here. Grammie can use it while she's visiting."
"Again, Cade. Ten bedrooms. Ten."
He grabs a handful of the screws and little brackets that have spilled out of a torn plastic bag in the grass.
"It's all of these stupid fiddly little pieces," he says. "And these instructions. Who wrote these? Some kind of idiot, obviously.”
I stifle a laugh. He glares at the pieces again, then suddenly stands up and starts across the grounds in long strides.
"What are you doing?" I call after him. "You left all your tools!"
"I'm getting the stuff for the fire pit," he calls back.
"Yay, s'mores!" Grammie shouts.
I look back at her and see her holding Ruby's little hands up in victory.
"Why are you starting the fire pit?"
"I'm burning this thing," he says. "Even the little fiddly things."
"So, no playhouse?"
"I'll build Ruby her own version. Then, I won't have to follow instructions."