by Tara Leigh
“But—”
“Go home.” Please.
“Listen, I know things are awkward between us right now.”
“Awkward?” A laugh I’d never heard before rumbled from my throat. A chortle, maybe. Or a cackle. I got distracted trying to categorize it.
Adam pursed his lips. “Fine. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Understand—” Out of the corner of my eye I saw the present, wrapped in bubble gum–pink paper, that I’d bought weeks ago. It had been sitting on a shelf of my bookcase for so long I’d stopped noticing it. “Devon’s birthday party.” The little girl was Adam’s niece, but I adored her as if she was my own.
Adam stopped walking toward the door. “You still want to go?”
Whatever had happened between Adam and me, I’d promised Devon that I would be at her fourth birthday party. I couldn’t miss it. “Gimme a few minutes.” Jogging to my bathroom, I turned the water on high. The chlorine hadn’t been kind to my hair, but I didn’t have time to worry about it now. Twisting it into a bun, I pulled an old-fashioned shower cap over it and plugged in my hair straightener.
Fifteen minutes later I was dressed in a bright pink Lilly Pulitzer romper and a pair of gold gladiator sandals. The romper was a little loud for my taste, but I’d snagged it at a killer sale and it was Devon’s favorite color. Not just pink—hot pink. The gladiator sandals were for me though—a reminder to woman up. Life went on, even if Landon Cox wasn’t a part of it.
Adam raised his eyebrows when I came out. “Interesting choice.”
How had I not realized the man was meant to be my gay best friend and not my boyfriend?
I bit my lip against a sharp retort that would make this uncomfortable moment even more so. Instead, I pointed at his madras pants and lime green shirt. “I hardly think you’re one to criticize, Mr. Vineyard Vines.”
He extended his elbow. “Touché, Lilly.”
I took the joking insult, leaning automatically into Adam for a minute, wishing he could be The One as strongly as I knew he wasn’t. At our contact, the anger I’d been holding on to suddenly fell away. We’d always been better friends than lovers. And after last night, I now knew I wasn’t willing to sacrifice butterflies in my stomach and multiple orgasms on the altar of holy matrimony.
Landon had shown me at least that much.
Landon.
Even the thought of him sent a pang of longing shooting through my veins. Eventually, I hoped I would have the strength to appreciate Landon for what he was—my first love…not my last.
But right now, I wasn’t there yet. Or even close.
Slipping the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I picked up Devon’s gift and followed Adam to the parking lot, hesitating when he pointed his key fob at his own car. Did I really want to spend the next half hour trapped less than a foot away from him?
Then again, I didn’t want to show up at his parents’ house until we’d had a conversation. And, frankly, I didn’t want be responsible for getting us there in one piece while having it.
“Want to stop for coffee?”
Gratitude softened the edges of my agitation. “I would love that, actually.” I’d barely had a few sips from the mug Ana had given me earlier, and my veins were crying out for caffeine.
Ten minutes later, my fingers were wrapped around a cardboard sleeve and Adam was pulling back out into traffic. “So,” we both began at the same time.
I bit down on a small smile, motioning for Adam to go first.
“I’m sorry for the other day,” he began.
“You said that already. But are you sorry for what I overheard, or for keeping your previous relationship with Brian a secret?” I took a quick breath and decided to rephrase my question so it reflected what I really wanted to know. “Are you sorry for what you did…Or for lying to me about who you are?”
Adam coughed, one hand lifting from the wheel to rub at the back of his neck. “Is there an ‘all of the above’ option?”
I sighed. “Listen, I don’t know if I’m up for a conversation about us right now. And I’m definitely not ready to be a sounding board for what you have going on with Brian or anyone else. At least, not just yet. But I’d really like to be on the same page before we show up at Devon’s party. Can we at least figure that out?”
“Honestly, I’m still trying to figure things out on my end, Piper. Do you mind if we keep things status quo, just for today?”
“You want me to lie?”
“No. But do we really have to tell my family about us, about me, in the middle of Devon’s birthday party? When should we do it—after pin the tail on the donkey and before she blows out her candles?”
Truthfully, I didn’t want to do it at all. I adored Adam’s family, but they were his family. Whatever he chose to tell them was his business, not mine. Not anymore.
I’d been to Adam’s parents’ home many times—practically every Sunday since we’d met. Except that this time, my cheeks burned with embarrassment walking through the door, thinking how disappointed they would be with me once they learned the truth. That Adam wasn’t in love with me. That I hadn’t been enough. Again.
The depressing thought was swept aside by a high-pitched shriek. “Auntie Piper!” Wearing a pink dress even brighter than mine, Devon launched herself at my legs, nearly knocking me down.
Stumbling slightly, I handed the present to Adam and lifted my favorite four-year-old, settling her on my hip. “Hey there, I’m here for the birthday party. Do you know who we’re celebrating?” I asked, feigning ignorance of the pink crown with HAPPY BIRTHDAY spelled out in rhinestone letters.
“Me!” she yelled, a grin splitting her deliciously chubby cheeks.
“You? No way!”
She dissolved into giggles, and I laughed along with her.
“You came.” Becca, Devon’s mother, walked toward me with her arms already outstretched. An adult replica of her daughter.
I hugged her with one arm while my other remained curled around Devon’s waist. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I answered, feeling awful that I’d nearly forgotten about the party entirely. Yet another reason to be angry at Landon. The damn man had me so scattered I could barely remember my own name.
“You have to see the puppies, Auntie Piper!” Devon yelled, even though her face was only a few inches from my ear.
I looked at Becca. “Puppies?” The woman was allergic to just about everything with fur.
“Same concept as a petting zoo,” Becca said, “although the dogs are all available for adoption. Unfortunately we can’t take one, but between the fee and the possibility of finding forever homes, it’s kind of a win-win for everyone.”
The little girl between us squirmed to be let down. I relaxed my hold and followed her outside. Several large pens had been set up, each staffed by someone wearing a bright yellow T-shirt, red letters proclaiming HARMONY’S PETTING PUPS, and containing a few puppies big enough to hold their own with the enthusiastic pre-school set.
There was also a bounce house at the far end of the property and a slime-making station with a couple of teenagers supervising.
It was a perfect little girl’s birthday party, and Devon looked happier than I’d ever seen her before, which was saying a lot.
One of the yellow T-shirted women came over to me as I watched Devon rolling on the grass with the puppies, squealing with delight at their wagging tails and licking tongues. “It’s a shame her mother’s allergic. She’s so good with animals.”
I nodded wistfully. “I know.”
“How about you? Any room for a dog in your life?”
The question would have felt intrusive if the woman’s tone hadn’t been so light. Floating a hypothetical rather than pushing an obligation.
“I wish,” I said, honestly. Growing up, I’d always wanted a pet. Dog, cat, hamster, anything. But my father had flat out refused, and in our home, his word was law.
The woman’s graying hair looked nearly white in the bri
ght sunlight, though her cocoa-colored skin wasn’t marred by a single wrinkle. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe someday.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” At that moment, a golden-haired puppy made a dash for my legs, chasing after the plastic ball Devon had thrown.
I was one of the few adults outside, and I didn’t mind one bit.
Becca, I knew, would stay inside for most of the party, hyped up on antiallergy meds and drinking mimosas with the other mothers. Rather than feel excluded no one had made an effort to coax me inside, I was grateful to be spared the “So, when are you and Adam going to finally tie the knot?” questions.
Despite knowing for sure the answer was precisely, “Never,” it wasn’t my place to give it. Let Adam be the one to share the news, and deal with the inevitable questions to follow…another day.
Adam was the youngest in his family, and Becca had said she was done after Devon, so the spotlight was on him to add to the family tree.
I was an only child to two parents who probably shouldn’t have had children at all—at least, not with each other. And while Adam’s parents kept hinting that they were ready to be grandparents again, my mother and I only discussed the most benign subjects.
My father and I rarely spoke at all.
I didn’t want a child of my own and right now the only bright side about not becoming a part of Adam’s family was not disappointing them when I didn’t produce any babies to add to the mix. Though I thoroughly enjoyed borrowing someone else’s—especially when they were as adorable as Devon.
It was clear to me now that what I’d loved most about being with Adam was his family and his friendship. Not the romance between us. The thought of losing them made my heart heavy. Would I still be invited to Devon’s birthday party next year, or the year after that?
Later, as I watched Devon blow out the candles of her birthday cake, cheered on by her parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and her pint-sized friends, I was nearly brought to my knees by a wave of fierce longing. Had I ever been surrounded by as much love as this little girl?
Landon
I woke up to some new-age, shit-ass orchestra. Beeping, buzzing, blaring. Someone needed to turn that crap off before I ripped them a new one.
It went on and on and on. More irritating by the second. And as much as I tried, I couldn’t open my goddamn eyes. My eyelids had turned into thousand-pound shutters. Or…was something holding them down? Trying to figure it out, trying to tune out that damn noise that didn’t have the faintest relation to music was impossible with the sledgehammer pounding into my skull.
Noise. Pain. Darkness.
The beeping speed up, becoming an alarm. Jesus fucking Christ. Who the fuck set off the alarm?
I heard movement, felt a change in light. Brighter, I thought.
“Mr. Cox, glad you’re joining us.”
“Who the fuck are you?” But the question didn’t make it from my brain to my mouth. What emerged instead sounded more like a seal’s bark than a human voice.
My eyelid was lifted, and I jerked away from the brightness, only to have it repeated on the other side.
“Fuck off, asshole,” said the seal.
“Pupils are reactive. He can have some water.” There was the low hum of a vibration as the bed began moving, the pressure in my head increasing exponentially with every inch. Something was put to my lips.
“Drink this. Slowly,” came a soft voice I didn’t recognize.
I swallowed, although not nearly as much as I wanted to before it was taken away.
Suddenly the god-awful noises were turned off, and I breathed a sigh of relief, tentatively opening my eyes before promptly closing them again. Too much, too bright. A wave of nausea rocked into me.
“Mr. Cox, I’d like to go through a few basic questions. Are you okay with that?”
I grunted, tentatively moving my jaw and mouth. Wondering what would come out.
“Can you tell us your full name?”
“Water,” was all I managed. After a few more sips, still not enough, I croaked out an answer. “Landon Cox.”
“Can you tell us your address and birthdate?”
I did.
“Do you know where you are?”
I risked a glance. “Hospital.” The word came out before I had time to process it. I was in a hospital?
“Correct. You were brought here, to Cedars-Sinai hospital, in an ambulance about an hour ago. Do you know why you’re here?”
I thought back, trying to remember. The image that popped up was Piper’s face. Piercing blue eyes that saw right through me. The palest suggestion of freckles trekking across her nose. And that hair. A sleek golden river that smelled like honey and ran through my hands like silk.
Fuck. I’d been such a dick. I let all the fears inside my brain ruin the first morning we’d spent together in years.
Piper wasn’t stupid. She’d obviously picked up on my discomfort and thought I wanted her to leave.
Had I?
My skull felt like it was cracking apart. “My head,” I groaned. If I was in a hospital, they had to have kick-ass drugs for the pain.
The man in the white coat, a doctor, I assumed, gave a condescending grunt. “Exactly. Drugs and alcohol don’t mix well with parties and pools.”
Spare me the after-school special morality lesson. I just wanted something to stop the—
Oh, shit.
Memories pricked at my brain like shards of broken glass, sharp but fragile. Liquor splashing into a crystal tumbler. The burn running down my throat. Drinking alone. Holding my phone in my hands, wanting to call Piper. A text about a party.
A party. My party?
I didn’t remember a party.
The doctor had been pretty specific. Drugs and alcohol don’t mix well with parties and pools.
The last time I’d been in my pool, I hadn’t been alone. I’d been with Piper.
Confused, I tuned back into what the doctor was saying. “…drugs for the pain in a moment, but I’d like you to do something for me first.” He put a notepad across the sheet covering my legs and held out a pencil. “Can you write your name for me?”
I lifted my right arm, feeling a deep twinge. “Sure.”
Except that when I went to grasp the pencil, my fingers didn’t close. The pencil dropped to the floor. I stared down at it in silence, panic driving nails through my already cracking skull. What. The. Fuck.
The nurse retrieved it and came around to the other side of my bed. “How about with your left?”
This time, my fingers pinched together, but my grip was like a toddler holding a crayon. I looked at the doctor, fear escalating. “What the fuck is happening? Why can’t I use my hands?”
A monitor began wailing again, and both doctor and nurse swiveled to read the blinking red numbers racing across the screen.
“What’s wrong with my hands?” I yelled again, feeling frantic and sluggish at the same time. It didn’t matter. No one was listening to me.
A syringe glinted as the nurse injected it into the IV bag hanging near my head. I repeated my question again, but it never made it past my lips. I closed my eyes, and gave in to the darkness rushing up to swallow me.
Piper
Adam tossed a grateful smile my way as he pointed his key fob at his BMW. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
“You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.” Sliding into the smooth leather seat, I leaned back against the headrest and toed off my shoes. It had been a long day. The other children and their parents left after cake, but Adam’s family had stayed for hours afterward.
He had offered to take me home early, but I declined, not in any rush to leave the warm embrace of the Williams family. They came from a place of love, and even though I couldn’t be honest with them about the state of my relationship with Adam, putting on a happy face while lying through my teeth came easily to me.
It was how I’d been raised.
That perfect facade I’d created in high
school—prom queen, captain of the cheerleading squad, senior body vice president—had adhered to my skin like a permanent tattoo. Because when people saw something pretty and perfect, only the most cruel wanted to stomp on it, destroy it. Everyone else just enjoyed the view, or were too intimidated to get very close.
It didn’t always work, of course. If someone wanted to find fault, there was nothing you could really do. Perfection would always be just out of reach, no matter how hard you tried.
But each failure, those countless attempts and misses, they left their mark. At first, each one hurt, like a bruise or a cut. But eventually, they piled up, one after the other, weaving together to form a dazzling costume.
I learned to settle for fooling most people, most of the time.
Except for my own father.
And so I was constantly on my guard. Hiding behind a disguise, feeling like an imposter.
A maid pretending to be a princess.
One tick from midnight.
Halfway home, my chaotic thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of my phone.
Travis: Get to Cedars Sinai. Now.
I stifled a groan. Travis’s clients were always in the hospital.
Face-lifts, surgical implants of the breast, butt, and penis variety, organ failure brought on by extreme dieting, injuries from stunts gone wrong, and of course, an overabundance of overdoses.
There were unnecessary hospital stays, too. A client claiming exhaustion while Travis smoothed over ruffled feathers and renegotiated contracts. Incentives increased, schedules adjusted. The younger, sexier ingénue replaced with someone less threatening.
I turned to Adam. “Would you mind dropping me off at Cedars-Sinai instead?” I lifted my phone. “Work.”
“Sure. Who is it this time?”
“Travis didn’t say, and even if he did, you know I couldn’t tell you.”
I was curious though, and so I texted Travis, wanting to know who I was there to deal with. His answer was like a kick to the solar plexus. But I couldn’t reveal my feelings. Adam glanced over at me. “You okay?”
I cleared my throat, shoving my phone in my purse as I flipped down the visor and checked myself in the mirror. Spending the day outdoors, surrounded by exuberant puppies and sugar-high four-year-olds, had left me with smudged makeup and a faint sunburn. Sighing, I rubbed at the liner beneath my eyes and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.