by C. J. Lake
Chapter Forty-six
By Friday afternoon Cady, had adopted a new routine. It mostly involved feeling depressed while she also went through the motions to submit her final projects and take two final exams. Mick tried to reach out to her, but she hadn't answered the phone and he hadn't bothered leaving a message. More than likely, he'd end up in bed with Juliana again, Cady presumed bitterly, so in the end, he'd be just fine.
Now, as she left the student center, where she had stopped to buy a bagel after her last exam, her phone rang. She dug her cell out of her jeans pocket while she elbowed the glass door open and stepped outside into the bristling cold afternoon. The sidewalk was still patchy and slick with sleet and the wind made it hard to hear her dad.
“...calling to ask you over...cake and coffee...” he was saying. “Linda and I have some things from our trip that we bought the kids, we wanted to have you all over...”
Despite the spotty connection, Cady heard him with distressing clarity. The kids? So Mick would be there, too? Yeah, no thanks. “I can't tonight, Dad, sorry. I, uh, have a headache.”
He was obviously disappointed. “Huh. First Mick can't make it and now you're busy, too.”
Cady paused. “Oh—so Mick's not coming?”
“No, Linda said he had to study for an exam tomorrow. Ah, well, you know what, Linda and I will just reschedule with all of you for sometime next week—”
“No, wait!” she burst in, changing her mind. If they all rescheduled, she'd have to come face-to-face with Mick, and she wasn't ready to see him, not yet. “Actually, the headache's not too bad now,” she told her father. “I can come.”
“Are you sure?” Brandall said.
“Yes, I'm sure.” Honestly, she wanted to see her father anyway since he had been away for nearly two weeks now—and what was she going to do instead? She'd was almost done with school work, and seeing Brandall and Linda would probably be a distraction from her sadness.
Or that was the plan anyway.
Unfortunately, when Cady turned into her father's driveway, she pulled up behind another car. A silver Audi. “What the hell?” she whispered, panicking. So Mick was here after all?
Was there time to back out of the driveway and go home? she wondered for a delusional second, before noticing that Mick was standing on the front step, while Linda opened the door—and both had noticed Cady's headlights.
Crap.
Now Linda was smiling and waving. Mick's expression, on the other hand, was blank as he eyed Cady briefly through her windshield. No wave, no nod. They both just looked across the distance at each other for a moment, before Mick turned and walked inside the house.
With a sigh, Cady cut the ignition and inhaled a “calming” breath (which somehow only drew her chest tighter). Obviously she had to face Mick some time, but she was hoping it wouldn't be this soon. Not when their split was still so raw.
“Hi, Linda,” Cady said, returning her stepmother's hug at the door and trying to feign a sliver of enthusiasm for the evening. “How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was terrific! Here, come on in—we'll show you some pictures and we also have a few little gifts we bought for you guys...” As they stepped into the foyer of the house, Linda mentioned, “Your father is upstairs in his office on the phone. He'll be down in a minute.”
“Okay,” Cady said, slipping off her jacket and unwrapping her scarf.
“I'll take those for you,” Linda offered cheerfully. “Why don't you go into the family room? I've put out some cake and coffee.”
“Um, aren't Rex and Preeti coming, too?” Cady asked hopefully. Anything to keep the conversation going and distract from the tumbleweeds-of-tension between her and Mick.
“Yes, they should be here soon,” Linda told her, then walked toward the kitchen. “I just want to get the gifts.” Nodding, Cady watched her go. Then steeled her nerves, as she made her way down a short, carpeted hall off the foyer, and hooked a left.
Once Cady stepped into the family room, she felt Mick's eyes on her. Her stomach fluttered like crazy; so now it was confirmed. She should've just put her car in reverse as soon as she saw the Audi. She was so not ready to face Mick. But here they were.
Though she tried to give a sweeping glance around the room, rather than directly lock gazes with him, it was kind of hard to pull that off when they were the only people present. Mick was sitting casually in an armchair. Cady noticed a silver carafe and a sliced coffeecake sitting untouched on the sideboard, beside a short stack of dessert plates, and a neat arrangement of cups and silverware. The pleasing, spicy-sweet aroma of baked cinnamon filled the air. Well, Linda was definitely upping Brandall's entertaining game.
Okay, enough stalling.
“Hi...” Cady began, feeling awkward.
“Hey.”
“I, uh, didn't realize you'd be here.”
“Same here,” Mick said, his tone flat, maybe annoyed.
“I told you that, Mick,” Linda remarked as she entered, now carrying three small gift bags.
“No,” he argued mildly, “when I asked who'd be here you said 'just us.'”
“Right—oh, I meant 'just us,' as in just us family.” When she punctuated her statement with a rather clueless smile, Cady withheld an eye-roll and Mick's expression remained stony.
“Cadence!”
She turned and saw her dad, smiling at her as he entered the family room, arms outstretched. “Hi, Dad!” she said warmly, giving him a hug. “Linda said the trip was great.”
“Yes, it was!” he agreed. “We'll show you pictures...” After Brandall took a seat on one end of the couch, Cady sat on the other. It was the farthest seat from Mick's. “By the way, Rex just texted me,” Brandall told Linda as she passed out the gift bags to Cady and then Mick. “The lecture ran late, so they'll be here in about forty minutes or so.”
“Oh, okay,” Linda said, setting their gift bag aside.
“By the way, how are finals going?” Brandall asked Cady. “Are you done with exams yet?”
“Pretty much. I just have one more, due tomorrow. It's a take-home; I'm basically finished with it.”
Oblivious to the tension that strained every oxygen molecule in the room, Linda poured herself a cup of coffee and passed a thick slice of cake to Brandall.
The next twenty minutes consisted of happy prattle from the two lovebirds, who recapped their vacation and passed around their cell phones to show photos. Linda explained the gifts as Mick and Cady opened their gift bags. “There was a local artist who has been running a glassblowing and candle-making shop on the island for thirty years,” she'd explained, impressed. “Her candles were so beautiful—they looked like genuine statues! Anyway, when I saw this bookshelf one, I thought of you, Cady.”
Smiling warmly at her, Cady thanked her, running her fingers over the detail on the lovely candle-statue.
“Amazing detail, isn't it?” Linda said, returning her smile. “And Mick, I know you like American history, so I got you the vintage lighthouse.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, looking appreciatively at the candle before slipping it back in the bag. Cady also returned her candle to the bag and set it gently by her feet.
“Sure,” Linda said brightly and took Brandall's hand. “We hope you like them.” At that point, Linda began telling them about a couple they became friendly with, staying at the same hotel. Apparently they were on Nantucket for a second honeymoon, and had struck up a conversation in the lobby one evening. As Linda talked about brunches and shopping and walks on the beach, Cady tried to listen, but she only caught snatches and fragments. Instead of focusing on Linda, she was preoccupied with Mick—and specifically, with trying not to steal glances at him.
But of course she stole a few.
He was silent the whole time, just kind of slouched back in an armchair. Like Cady, he'd passed on the coffee and cake. He was unshaven, on the way to scruffy, and his eyes looked tired. She felt a stab of guilt—crazy! God, she couldn't figure out why she f
elt so culpable; she supposed it was because she hadn't explained the truth to Mick. But did he really deserve some comprehensive statement from her? He'd slept with another girl. Even if he was technically allowed to do so—free country, it just happened, whatever other rationalization—that didn't make him some innocent angel in all this.
Here Mick had brushed off Cady's jealousy of Juliana; he'd acted like Cady was way off-base with her concern that Juliana might be interested in him, or that there was anything romantic between them. Ha! Surely there was a sexual attraction simmering between Mick and Juliana prior to the UConn party. Because what was the likelihood that two people who were never the least bit attracted to each other just randomly slept together the first opportunity they got?
God, assuming that even was the first time... Now her stomach knotted painfully. She started to feel queasy.
“Cady?”
Startled, she looked at Linda. “Oh—yes? Sorry, what did you say?”
“Would you like any coffee? How about some cake?”
Immediately, Cady refused the offer, blurting out, “Thanks, but I can't eat.”
“Is anything wrong?” Linda asked with concern.
Mick glanced at Cady now, awaiting her response to that loaded question.
She shook her head and lied, “I'm just still full from dinner.”
“Oh, Mick! Before I forget...” his mom said. “You know the friend I made on the trip? Well, of course she and I talked a lot about our kids, and it turns out that she has a daughter who is a sophomore at Brandeis! Her name is Emily, she's a sociology major, and she just sounds so sweet and level-headed...and I saw her picture. Blonde and very pretty.”
Cady's heart sank as Linda went on:
“Now I'm sure you don't need any help with the girls,” she said, digging for a scrap of paper in her purse, which was sitting on the end table. “But—here. Her mom said I could pass Emily's number on to you, just in case you ever wanted to give her a call.”
Warily, Cady watched his reaction.
“Sounds great,” Mick said, reaching over to take the number. “I love blondes.”
A swell of sadness rose in her chest. If Mick had wanted to twist the knife, he couldn't have done it more perfectly, considering that Cady was already haunted by the thought of blonde Juliana.
“You look distressed,” Linda said, her brow knitting in concern, and it took a second for Cady to realize her stepmother was talking to her.
“Oh, um—no, I'm not. But, you know, I should get going,” she announced, coming to her feet.
“Gee, already?” Linda said, disappointed.
“Is your headache coming back?” Brandall asked, appearing a bit surprised by Cady's abrupt exit.
“Yes,” she fibbed, thinking more about the symbolic pain that was lower, throbbing deep within her ribs.
Apparently Mick wasn't going to let her skate out of there without still trying to get a rise out of her one more time, because he said, “Well, wait. Speaking of setups... Cady, you're single, aren't you?”
Reluctantly, she slid a cold glance at him, trying to keep the hostility out of her voice. “Why?”
Casually, Mick shrugged and said, “Just thinking that maybe I have a friend I could set you up with. What's your type anyway?”
The whole room was quiet, as though everyone was waiting on an answer. Where was awkward silence-filling when you needed it? Empty small talk anyone? “If you tell me what kind of guy you're looking for,” Mick continued, “maybe I know someone who'd be perfect for you, that's all.”
Despite his blithe demeanor, his eyes were intent on her.
While Cady glared at Mick, Linda missed the subtext entirely and jumped in cheerfully, “Yes, that's a great question—what type of boy do you usually go for, Cady? I'll keep an eye out!”
She could have demurred, tactfully said, “No, that's fine, please don't,” but instead decided to try to zing Mick back. “Let's see,” Cady said, crossing her arms thoughtfully, “mostly a guy who's mature. I've yet to meet anyone like that. Someone who's not a liar or a cheat. Who doesn't just act on impulse for selfish, immediate gratification.”
Brandall offered a confused-sounding chuckle, weighing in: “Well, I doubt anyone would like a liar or a cheat...”
With a playful laugh, Linda said, “I agree. I mean, it's a reasonable list, but it seems so cynical for someone your age. Gee, when I was in college all I wanted was a cute boy who was nice to me and had a car!” At that, a besotted Brandall laughed hysterically like Linda was the headliner at a comedy club.
Meanwhile Cady seethed with rage—utterly furious with Mick for hurting her, for disappointing her—and Mick glared right back at her, his dark eyes hooded and brooding.
Probably it was his ego that was hurt more than anything, she reasoned cynically. The fact that Cady was the one to end things. Guys couldn't stand when a girl didn't want them.
“Anyway, I'm going to head home,” she reiterated, determined not to be diverted this time. Efficiently, she scooped up her gift bag. “Thanks again—please don't get up,” she added, not needing to be walked to the door, which would only drag out this evening further. And if Linda or Brandall accompanied her to the door, they might notice that Cady was practically running to get the hell out of there.
“All right—oh, but, Cady!” Linda called. “Wait—Mick never said.” At that, Cady turned. Linda looked at her son. “Well? Do you think you might have a friend who'd be good for Cady?”
After a brief pause, Mick glanced down, shook his head. “Nah, I don't think so. My friends are way too immature and impulsive for someone like Cady,” he remarked, throwing her words back at her. She acted unaffected by it, but it hurt her—if only because Mick seemed to be mocking her. His gaze found hers again, as he concluded, “I'm sure they could never be good enough for her.”
Chapter Forty-seven
Later that evening Mick found himself at the campus library, studying for his last exam. He'd tried to study at home, but hadn't been able to concentrate, because, ironically, it had been too damn quiet over there. Quinn was out, and Walker and Terrence had already left for winter break. The silence in his apartment had only made Mick's mind wander...away from his textbook and back to the painful subject of Cady.
Of course if he were completely honest with himself he would admit that he'd probably gone to the library tonight because it reminded him of her; he knew she often came here and maybe he'd even had the subconscious hope of running into her.
Now, with a heavy sigh, Mick gave up, shutting his textbook in frustration. This girl had him so wrecked, there was no way he could focus on the Revolutionary War. He just kept replaying things in his mind.
For a few minutes, he sat, thinking, restlessly tapping his pen on the table. How the hell was he supposed to block Cady from his mind—to just forget? Her expressive blue eyes, her ripe lips, that smile when she was happy, that pinched expression when she was troubled, that adorable, sarcastic little smirk when she was teasing him. He loved all of her faces, loved her voice, loved... Well fuck, who could explain why certain girls twisted you up so much?
With another sigh, which came out more like a soft growl, Mick pushed up from his seat. Enough bullshit; he wasn't going to waste his night sitting here.
Even though tonight was a loss, he might still be okay for the exam tomorrow. Over the past couple of days, Mick had studied harder for his finals than he ever had. He supposed that ever since he'd gotten an A on his last paper, something had shifted in him. Maybe it was vanity, but he felt driven to prove to himself that that one paper—on which Professor Stone had scrawled the word “Impressed”—hadn't been a fluke. Now Mick didn't just want to pass his exams or do pretty well—he wanted the 'A.'
Grabbing his books, he walked through the stacks, passing several rows of empty desks on his way to the stairwell. Tomorrow was technically the last day of the semester, but many students had already finished their exams and gone home for winter break by now.<
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“Mick.”
Her voice echoed thinly in the stairwell. It was Cady's friend, Torie, coming up the stairs at the same time that Mick was going down. And she appeared to be alone.
“Hey...” she managed, climbing up a few more steps as he descended. “Um, how are you?”
Shitty, Mick felt like saying, ever since your roommate took a crowbar to my heart. “Fine,” he nodded, “You?”
“I'm good,” she replied with sort of a feeble smile.
“How's Cady?” he blurted. Damn it, why had he even asked?
“Oh, she's...” Torie chewed her lip, as if she didn't know the right way to respond. She obviously felt awkward because she knew that Cady had dumped his ass and never looked back.
“Never mind,” Mick said, continuing down the stairs, past her. “Forget I asked.”
“Wait—Mick?” Torie's voice stopped him, he turned back. Again she chewed her lip, deliberating on something. He waited and she said, “Look, obviously you don't have to answer but...I can't help it, I'm curious.” He raised his eyebrows, still waiting. “Why did you do it?” she said.
“Do what?” he said, confused.
“You know...hook up with that other girl.”
His eyes narrowed, as his chest drew tight with tension. “What are you talking about?” he asked cautiously.
“Cady heard about it. You do realize that, right?”
“Heard what?” he demanded, his tone deadly serious, impatient.
Lowering her voice, Torie went on, “That you slept with that girl at the UConn party.”
“What?” Mick nearly barked, feeling his blood temperature rise. “Are you—wait, are you being serious right now?”
His intense and troubled reaction must have thrown her off, because Torie appeared hesitant for a moment—like she was rethinking butting in—but then she answered him. “Of course I'm being serious. Some girl named Juliana. Cady found out about it.”