by Elle Keating
“It’s good to see you too, Uncle,” Luke said, never taking his eyes off Peyton.
“Oh hi, Luke. I had no idea Francesco was your uncle,” Lainey said between bites of cake. “Thanks for referring us here. Everything is so delicious.”
Luke shifted his gaze to Lainey and smiled. “Well, I knew you would be in good hands with my uncle. So what did you decide on?” Luke asked, scanning the crumbs on the numerous plates before them.
“I think it’s between the buttercream and the chocolate. What do you think, Peyton?” Lainey asked, frowning at the empty plates.
Peyton narrowed her eyes at Luke and shifted her attention to Lainey. “Do we have to choose? Can we get both? Maybe smaller versions of each?”
Lainey smiled so big that it temporarily distracted her. “I love that idea! Francesco, is that possible?” Lainey asked.
“For you, my beautiful girl, yes, anything is possible!” Francesco said, pouring on his adorable charm. “Come, you pick out the style of cake. I have books, photos of cakes to show you,” he said, gesturing to a table that would thankfully be out of earshot.
“You coming, Peyton?” Lainey asked.
“Yep. I’ll be right there. Why don’t you get started with Francesco? I have a few wedding details to discuss with Luke,” Peyton said. Lainey looked from Peyton to Luke with what appeared to be a hint of suspicion. But seconds later, her smile returned in full force and she joined Francesco at the table.
“What are you doing here, Luke?” Peyton asked through gritted teeth.
“I needed to see you.” His response was a gruff whisper, one that she felt all the way to her core.
“How did you know I would be here?”
“I may have read Lainey’s text. The one she sent to you confirming your ten o’clock cake testing appointment.” He withdrew her cell phone from his pocket and held it in front of her face. She swiped it from him quickly and slipped it into her pocket before Lainey could notice.
“Well, you’ve seen me…and returned my phone, which…well, thanks for that. I need to get back to Lainey.” She started to walk away when he grabbed her arm. She froze at his touch and met his eyes. “Don’t do this, Luke. Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”
“Peyton, I think we found the one!” Lainey shouted from across the room. Peyton ripped her arm from his grasp and went to Lainey. She could feel him looking at her as she walked away, which both annoyed and pleased her at the same time.
Lainey had chosen a two-tiered rectangular cake for both flavors. Peyton had just paid for the cakes when Lainey received a phone call. “Hi, Lucille. What’s going on?” Lainey asked, concern in her voice. After a few seconds of silence, Peyton heard her sister ask, “What do you mean you’re here?” More silence. “No, I would love to talk over brunch. Where do you want to meet?” Lainey listened as her literary agent rattled on. “Yep, I know the place. I’m just fifteen minutes away. See you soon,” Lainey said and ended the call.
“Peyton, I’m so sorry. Lucille is speaking at a writer’s conference in Philadelphia later this afternoon and she was hoping we could meet before that and discuss the copy edits of my upcoming release. Ordinarily, I would have told her that it wasn’t a good time, especially on such short notice, but I really want to get this next book squared away before the wedding and the honeymoon.”
“Absolutely. You need to do this. I want you stress free on your big day. Now go. Don’t keep Lucille waiting.” Peyton pulled her sister into a hug. “And tell her I said hi.”
Lucille Andrews may be a bit scattered at times and had proposed spur-of-the-moment client meetings on more than one occasion in the past, but she was great at what she did. She knew exactly how and when to get her clients’ manuscripts into the right editors’ hands. But what Peyton liked the most about Lucille was that she had been Lainey’s cheerleader and friend long before she had secured Lainey’s seven-figure book deal with one of the top publishing houses in New York City.
“I will,” Lainey said, squeezing her back. And then her face fell, and she hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Shit! I drove here. How are you going to get home?”
“I live in New York City, sweetie. I know how to call for a cab.” Peyton physically steered her sister to the door and then gave her a swat on her rear. “Now, scoot.”
Lainey flung back around and gave her one last hug. “Okay. But call or text me when you get to Italy…so I know you got there safely.”
“I will…promise,” Peyton said.
Peyton watched her sister hop into her car and drive away. She then retrieved her phone from her back pocket and started to call for a cab when Luke snatched her cell right out of her hand. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said, his tone absolutely unyielding.
“I’m calling a cab. Give me my phone…now.”
“Oh, Ms. Matthews, let my nephew drive you home. He handsome? No?” Francesco said from the counter. The sweet but nosy Italian gentleman had been eavesdropping on their conversation while he appeared to be busy cleaning up their plates from the cake testing. That little bugger. “He will make sure you make it home safely. He’s a good boy.”
Yeah, physically she’ll make it home in one piece, but her already fragile heart would crumble to pieces if exposed to him any more today. She looked over at the old man and was just about to tell him that she couldn’t accept his nephew’s offer but stopped when she saw the kindness in his eyes. She would look like a real ass, a stubborn ass, if she refused the ride. “Okay, I trust your judgement, Francesco.” She gave him a warm smile and told him goodbye. Luke held the front door open as she exited the bakery.
She trailed behind him as he led her to his pickup truck. The snow and the salted streets had done a number on the exterior, but the inside of his vehicle was immaculate. Soft, black leather seats cushioned her bottom as he blasted the heat. His intoxicating scent flooded her nostrils and she immediately regretted her decision. Damn that charming old man! Luke handed her her cell phone before pulling away from the curb. She intentionally avoided his lingering gaze and stared out the passenger side window.
Ten minutes. She only had to suck it up for ten minutes. And not breathe for those ten minutes. Because every time his scent invaded her senses, her heart ached.
“I don’t like how we ended things this morning,” he said.
Please don’t talk to me. Just drive. And don’t look at me.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she took in the town’s Christmas lights and people watched. At least that was what she pretended to do as she sat just inches away from a man who had used her and kicked her to the curb. God, why was he doing this to her? To torture her, add some salt to a gaping wound? Could he be that cruel?
“Peyton, did you hear me?” he asked. There was a definite edge to his voice and it pissed her off. She was the one who had earned the right to be angry. Not him. Bastard.
“Yes. But I don’t give a shit that you didn’t like how we left things. Immediately after you slipped out of me this morning, you made it crystal clear what last night and this morning meant. That it was just sex.” She finally looked at him. “A meaningless fuck.”
Luke swerved to the side of the road, put the truck in park and stared at her. “A meaningless fuck? Is that what you think? Is that what if felt like to you?” His blue eyes darkened as he searched her own. With his hands gripping the steering wheel, his chest ascending and descending as he took in deep breaths, he looked furious with her.
“Yes.”
His jaw clenched as his eyes darted back and forth. “I don’t believe you.”
Why did he care? He had told her to leave…right after he fucked her. After telling her that he wasn’t the man for her for the second time in a week.
She gathered all her strength and the remnants of her pride and said, “You don’t have to believe me.” She shook her head. “Please take me home.”
“Fine,” he said,
throwing the truck into drive. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
As he turned onto her street she could see that Gus’s car wasn’t in the driveway. It was Thursday. Soup kitchen night at their church. He was probably elbow deep in chicken noodle soup at this point and preparing to serve the town’s most needy tonight. But the driveway was occupied by another vehicle, one she did not recognize. As they drew closer, just two houses away now, Peyton noticed that someone was standing on Gus’s stoop.
The woman came into view. Ratty brown hair slithered past the woman’s shoulders. Although it was below freezing, the woman was not wearing a coat, just a thin sweater, one that accented her bony, depleted frame. As Luke’s pickup came to a stop, Peyton’s eyes drifted to the woman’s hole-riddled jeans and dirty white Converse sneakers. The knots in Peyton’s stomach tightened even more.
No, it can’t be. She’s not supposed to be here. No contact with the victim upon release. None. But here she is, the other star in Peyton’s nightmares, banging on Gus’s door with her fist.
“What is it? What’s wrong, Peyton?” Luke asked.
In that moment, Peyton forgot that Luke had broken her heart this morning and then just hours later stomped around on the pieces when he had shown up at Francesco’s. She put the pain aside and whispered, “My mother. That’s what’s wrong.”
Peyton leaped out of the car, but Luke was immediately at her side, his hand protectively at the small of her back. Despite what was happening between them, she silently relished their cease fire and welcomed his touch, his strength as they walked along the sidewalk.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” Peyton seethed. She thrust her shaking hands into her coat pockets. She didn’t want her mother to see how unnerved she was, how just the sight of her after all these years could mess with her head.
Shelby Walters spun around and faced her. Peyton felt her jaw drop as she got a long, hard look at the woman who had given birth to her. The years had not been kind. Deep crevices around her eyes and mouth marred her once beautiful face. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes bloodshot and a bit crazed. A cigarette dangled between her fingers, but she quickly took a puff and let it out. Her brown hair was thinning, especially at the crown. Standing there, shifting back and forth, her hands trembling, it was obvious she was strung out. Peyton was well-acquainted with this Shelby Walters. It was what she had known from age seven, when her mother was introduced to drugs by one of her loser boyfriends. Prior to that, her mother had held an honest job as a cashier at a convenience store. Peyton imagined that the job hadn’t paid much, but at least she had been sober, could string sentences together and read to her daughters at night before they drifted off to sleep. But that was a long time ago. And those memories had been snuffed out and replaced with horrendous ones.
“My baby! My beautiful little girl. Look at you. You’re absolutely gorgeous!” Fake tears gushed from her mother’s soulless eyes.
Peyton stopped halfway to the front steps and glared at her. Shelby was either in denial or completely shitfaced, or maybe a combination of both, because she flicked her lit cigarette to the ground, rushed down the steps and ran toward her with her arms wide open. Peyton raised her hand. “Stop right there.”
Shelby halted about five feet from her. Her mother’s frail body swayed back and forth, and those fake tears ceased. “I thought my daughter would be happy to see me, to know that I had survived the hell she put me through for the past seventeen years.”
“I’m not your daughter anymore. Your parental rights were severed a long time ago.” Luke’s fingers drifted to her waist and he pulled her against him. He was here for her. “You must remember that? That condition was part of your guilty plea.” Peyton crossed her arms over her chest as she funneled her anger. She had dreamt of confronting her mother. Had imagined what she would say if she was ever given the chance. And she wasn’t going to let this moment pass her by. No. Fucking. Way. “Another condition was that once paroled, you were not to contact me or Lainey…ever. But yet here you are, standing before me on Gus’s property. Which isn’t wise.”
“You selfish little bitch! You never appreciated anything I did for you!”
Shelby was baiting her. She wanted her to lose it. But Peyton wasn’t falling for it. “Ah. With the exception of a loving sister, one who I happily raised until Gus and Gina came along, what exactly did you give me or do for me? Did you make sure that Lainey and I were fed? Had clean uniforms to wear to school? Made sure that we did our homework?” Peyton chuckled. “No, because I did all those things. Because you were too busy getting stoned and being a whore to the countless men you opened your door and legs to.”
“I see you still have a mouth on you. Are you still a slut, too? Is the famous, almighty supermodel before me still the filthy little slut that I remember? You couldn’t stand the attention Reggie gave me. That he loved me. You were so jealous that you had to make up lies.”
Luke’s grip tightened as if he could sense that it took everything Peyton had not to lunge at the loathsome woman and pound her face into the cement walkway. “What lies, Shelby? Please be more specific.”
“Everything you told the police, every word out of your mouth in that courtroom was a lie.” Shelby withdrew another cigarette from her dingy denim purse and lit it up. “Walking around in your school uniform, flaunting yourself to Reggie every chance you got. You asked for it, begged him. What choice did he have?”
“Get out of my face…now,” Peyton hissed.
Shelby smiled, displaying two rotted front teeth. “I should have gone to Lainey. She was always the more sensible one…the smart one.”
“Oh, she is. And maybe that’s why I’m struggling to figure out why you’re here, violating your parole. Is it because…I don’t know. You need money?” Peyton asked.
That shit-eating grin Shelby had been flashing vanished and she took another drag of her cigarette.
All Peyton’s fragile restraint was gone. “You stay away from Lainey and Gus.” If it wasn’t for Luke pinning her against him she would have attacked her mother, probably even killed her. “You will get nothing from us…no pity, no regrets and no money.” Shelby’s eyes widened and for the first time during their confrontation, Peyton saw desperation there, as if it had finally sunk in that she, Shelby Walters, was truly dead to her. Peyton withdrew her cell phone. “Better get moving, Shelby. Go on, I’ll even give you a head start before I call the police.”
Shelby took two steps forward, but Luke jumped in between them. “You wouldn’t dare call the police on your mother. I’ll be thrown back in jail,” she shouted over Luke’s shoulder.
“And what a comforting thought that is…and how foolish you are to underestimate me…again.” The terror in Shelby’s eyes was beyond satisfying and so was watching the woman she had once called Mom flee to her rundown piece of shit car and drive away.
Chapter Twenty
Luke
Luke didn’t want to think about all the awful things he had just heard or pay mind to the horrific thoughts that were swirling around in his brain. All he cared about was Peyton. Standing before him, her eyes following her mother’s car until it rounded the corner and out of sight, Peyton looked like she was going to collapse at any moment. He closed the distance between them and took her into his arms. Her arms circled his neck and she wept into his chest. Her sobs came from some untapped well, somewhere so deep that he knew she wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Her body melted into his as he supported her weight, as she allowed him to hold and protect her.
Minutes passed, but her agonizing whimpers continued. He wondered how long it had been since she really let go, let someone see her in such a raw and tortured state. Sadness consumed him as he thought about Peyton as a little girl, the horrors she had lived through at the hands of her mother and her fucked up boyfriends. And then that sadness morphed to anger, a fury that he experienced only when he thought about Warren.
Warren.
Reggie.
He and Peyton had led parallel childhoods. A literal hell on earth. Is that what drew them to each other? From the very beginning, when he saw her picture on the cover of that magazine, he knew something haunted her. Those eyes, those windows to the soul, had told him that she had secrets. Then there was the night he had found her outside of Eden. And now he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the woman she had seen was her prepubescent self.
He was struggling to rid his mind of that image when Peyton suddenly broke free of his embrace. “I need to get to Gus. Can you take me?”
The sudden disconnect, the sight of his empty arms, sent a wave of panic through his body. But he needed to be strong for her. “Of course. Where is he?”
“St. Paul’s Catholic Church. It’s on the corner of East and Main Street.”
He nodded and gestured toward his truck.
She dried her tears with the back of her hand and she entered his truck. He piled in to find her talking to someone on her cell phone. It only took a few seconds of eavesdropping to determine that she had contacted the police. That emotion he had seen and heard in her voice was gone. It was as if she had flipped some internal switch and was now on robotic mode. Over the next several minutes Peyton told the officer the cold hard facts, that her mother had paid her a visit and violated her parole.
After she had delivered the account to the police Peyton ended the call, only to be back on the phone and speaking with Walt. Again, her voice was devoid of emotion and she told her soon-to-be brother-in-law that Shelby had come sniffing around. She concluded the conversation by saying that although she had notified the police, he and Lainey should be on alert, that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that their drug-addicted mother may try to hit them up for a handout. A couple minutes of silence passed and then without looking at him, while those haunted eyes of hers remained fixed at the world outside his passenger side window, she said, “Thank you, Luke.”