by Wood, Vivian
Blowing out a breath, I concede. “Fine. But you have to start moving in immediately.”
Cate narrows her gaze on my face, as if she knows that I’m up to something but can’t quite figure it out. She sticks her hand out, and I shake it briefly. Her hand is warm and soft in mine. When I lean closer, I get just a whiff of vanilla scent.
Mmmm, I think. It’s automatic, just enjoying the clean smell of a freshly showered Cate.
“I work tonight. You know what the boss can be like.” She smiles, pursing her lips. “Tomorrow I can move my stuff in, though. There isn’t much.”
“All right.” I glance at my watch. “I have to stop by my house and then go to work… I guess just call me when you’re ready to move tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She closes the door without ceremony.
I can’t be too worried about that, because I’m officially running out of time. Work is in less than two hours and I have to squeeze a shower in before then. After driving back to my side of town, I pull the car in the driveway of my three story white colonial and sprint up to the house.
I stop briefly to check the mail and then flip through it as I let myself into the house. It’s mainly junk, but there is a large padded envelope from someplace called Chapel of The Bells. I recognize that name; I tried to go there the morning after I woke up next to Cate, wretchedly hungover.
Setting the rest of the mail aside, I tear open the envelope. Inside are a thumb drive and several sheets of photos. I brace myself for the photos: surely we’re good and toasted by this point in the evening. Who knows what we’ve had to drink, how we got to the chapel, or what we are even wearing.
I’m expecting… I don’t know, one of us to be wearing a foam finger and the other to be dressed as an alien, or something. Red faced, sweaty, looking like we are about to puke. Maybe even mostly passed out.
But when I look at the photos, I’m surprised for a different reason.
In every single photo, I’m staring at Cate like she is the only woman I’ve ever loved. Like she’s the reason for my existence, something I’ve never felt for anyone. And her eyes are glued on me as she beams. In the photos, she’s wearing a round pink piece of plastic on her fourth finger and looking blissed the fuck out.
Sure, we’re a little intoxicated. But we are both bright eyed and bushy tailed, so to speak. There is absolutely no reason that anyone wouldn’t marry us, especially a Las Vegas chapel.
Wow. When have I ever been that happy before? I guess never, which is why I had to be extremely drunk for those pictures to be taken. Still, it’s better if no one else sees the photos. Especially not the judge that we are about to plead incapacitation to, hopefully.
Shoving the pictures back in the envelope, I drop the entire envelope into the fruit bowl in my kitchen. That’s as good a spot as any while I decide what to do with the photos.
The expression on my face in the pictures keeps coming back to me as I shower, though.
What did she do that made me so happy? And vice versa, how did that happen exactly?
As the shower washes away my shampoo, I know I can’t do anything to make myself remember, but I would really like to know.
Chapter Eleven
Cate
I haul a box of my things through the front door of Luca’s house, ignoring the little voice inside my head. The one that screams as I walk into Luca’s foyer. The one who whispers nasty things to me as Luca shows me around.
“This is the living room,” he says. “There’s a more formal parlor around the corner, but I never use it.”
And the little voice, the one that sounds just like my cranky grandpa before he passed… it whispers, don’t even think about getting comfortable here. You know that someone as rich as Luca has a dozen girls lined up, ready to take your place the second you falter.
I take a deep breath, carrying the box through the open concept living room and up the stairs to the right. The floors are covered with pristine white carpet, the walls are very muted jewel tones. Even back before my parents died in a car accident, we never had the kind of money that this house suggests.
I can just imagine my mother’s face as she looked around this place. So light! So airy! I bet it gets good sun.
My mouth twists. My mom was fairly obsessed with the amount of light a room affords her plants.
I really, really miss her a lot right now.
Turning a corner, I nudge my bedroom door open and drop the box of stuff on the bed. Luca is right on my heels, dumping a fourth box on the bed. He frowns at the boxes.
“Is this really all you have?”
My cheeks flush. I don’t mean to, but I automatically go on the defensive. “Some of us weren’t born with a lot of money, okay?”
Luca flinches just a hair. “I didn’t mean that. I just mean, did we leave something behind? It seems like you should have way more stuff.”
Cheeks burning, I shake my head. “This is it. Everything I need for the next seven weeks, anyway.”
Okay, it’s everything I have period, but he doesn’t need to know that.
The voice in my head snickers. You’re just lucky you happened to get drunk and marry him. Look at how wealthy he is! Don’t expect it to last.
I clench my teeth. Luca shrugs. “Okay. Just checking.” He glances at his phone. “Shit, this is the manager for the Tells. I’ve got to answer this.”
“Go,” I wave him off.
He gives me an odd look as he heads out of the room, answering the phone. “Hey, Jared? Yeah, man. Yeah, I was just hoping…”
The sound of his voice fades away. I turn back to my boxes, exhaling. It shouldn’t take me very long to get them squared away. Not long at all. I stare at them for a second longer, my face glum.
I reach into one of my boxes, pulling out a little wooden crucifix. That goes on to the bedside table, along with a stack of books. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, partially read. A copy of Sherman Alexie’s autobiography. Both copies were checked out of the library just a couple of days ago.
To that list, I add my well-thumbed bible. My dad always said that he could sleep anywhere his bible was unpacked; I guess I feel that way too today.
The little voice in the back of my head laughs. I ignore it.
After unpacking the rest of my stuff and putting the flattened boxes in the closet for later use, I glance at my cell phone. Just enough time for a quick shower in my new bathroom before I have to run to catch the bus.
Every other Tuesday I give my evening to the women’s shelter. I volunteer wherever they can use me, usually leading a prayer group at the end. The bus going to that part of downtown only runs once an hour, so I will have to be economical with my time.
I sprint through showering and change into my regular old clothes. I like the fabric of my new work dress, but going downtown on the bus… it’s just better if I don’t attract any attention.
Wearing a long gray skirt and a buttoned up black cardigan achieves exactly that. I make sure to grab my coat as it promises to drop below freezing tonight. Snagging my shoulder bag, I hunt around inside it for my necklace. My head is down as I reach the living room, frowning. Then I find what I was looking for.
A skinny silver chain with a little silver cross, given to me on my confirmation day by my parents. Of course I immediately drop it on the floor right in front of Luca, who gives me another odd look. He bends down to pick it up, eyeing my outfit as he rises again.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” he asks. “I thought we had moved beyond the librarian’s garb, princess.”
I give him my best glare. “I have to catch the bus. I’m going to be late.”
He dangles my necklace within my reach. He’s so much taller than I am that it’s a little ridiculous, him standing there holding it over my head. I reach out to grab it, but he has other ideas. “Uh uh uh. You didn’t answer my question.”
Gritting my teeth, I give him an answer. “I’m going to First Hill.”
He pauses, cocking his head. “You’re going to that part of town right now? It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“Give me my necklace,” I snap. “Or you can find someone else to play house with. I swear to the Lord, I will walk away from this marriage.”
Luca’s brows rise, but his hand does drop. “Touchy, touchy.”
I grab the necklace from him. “My parents gave me this necklace, you complete jerk.”
“Oh.” His smile falls away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Stamping my foot, I glance at my phone. Then I roll my eyes. “Oh crud. I just missed the bus. That’s just… do you even know how much more an Uber will cost?”
I make an infuriated sound and then manage to drop my necklace again.
Luca is too fast for me, picking the necklace up again. “I’m sorry, Cate. Here, turn around. I’ll put your necklace on for you.”
Eyeing him angrily, I heft my coat and my shoulder bag. “No.”
“Please?” he asks. No smirk this time, no humor at all.
I still. That may be the first time I’ve heard that word ever leave his lips. Huffing a sigh, I pull a face. “Fine. But hurry.”
I turn around, shifting things in order to lift my long hair away from my neck. But Luca is no slouch; he helps me bundle my hair up and then smoothly brings the necklace around my neck, clasping it fast. He smooths it down onto my neck with his calloused fingers. The heat they leave, lingering on my nape just for a second, causes me to shiver.
He pauses for just a second, his fingers staying there. I wonder what sort of illicit thoughts he’s having as we stand there, frozen in place.
It’s the first time that I’ve actually thought that he actually finds me attractive. Not just hot, whatever that means, but attractive enough to fantasize about. If only for a moment.
I feel my cheeks begin to heat. Then before I can protest he withdraws.
“Alright,” he says, moving away. “Now get in my car. I’ll drive you to First Hill.”
Shaking my head, I move toward the front door. “I’ll just take an Uber—“
“Will you stop being such a pain?” He heads toward the kitchen. “I said I’m driving you. Just let me grab my keys and coat.”
I stick out my tongue at him and he rolls his eyes at me. He’s as good as his word though, ushering me outside into his Porsche Cayenne. I climb in the passenger seat of the luxurious vehicle, a little intimidated.
The seat warmers start heating up the second he starts the car. He presses a few buttons on his lit up center console, then looks at me. “Buckle up.”
I slide the seatbelt across my body, already giving myself a pep talk. It’s just a car. It may be fancy, but I shouldn’t be worried. In any event, I only have to be inside for twenty minutes, tops.
Luca pulls out of the driveway. “Where are we going exactly? Do you have an address?”
Squinting, I try to remember what the intersection is. “Columbia and 9th, I think?”
He punches it into the car’s navigation system. “All right. You don’t seem entirely sure.”
Raising one shoulder, I shrug. “I know the place by sight. I’ve been going there for almost two years now.”
He gives me an annoyed look. “Are you going to tell me what this place is?”
Looking away out my window, I sigh. “It’s a women’s shelter, all right?”
Silence reigns in the car. I glance back to him. His brows are pulled down, his expression intense.
“What?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I guess I just didn’t see you as a volunteer. That’s like… really…” He searches for a word. “Compassionate, I guess.”
“That’s me,” I say, pulling a face. “I’m known for being exceptionally compassionate.”
Luca glances over at me. “I’m starting to think…” He scrunches up one side of his face. “I’ve known you for eight years, but I didn’t actually know shit about you.”
That earns a half-smile from me. “I know. What have I been telling you this entire time?”
He smiles, looking straight ahead at the road. “You know I don’t listen that well.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “Whatever. Just remember, in seven weeks we go back to being enemies. So just keep that in mind.”
His low chuckle gives me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I sit back, enjoying the heated seats. Luca turns on the radio. I stare out the window as buildings pass by, blobs of color.
If this is a draw, both sides having exhausted themselves, I’m content enough with it for right now.
Chapter Twelve
Luca
“If you’ll turn to page five of the contract you provided me with, I can go down the list of clauses that the band will have a problem with.”
God help me. In fact, God help us all if this deal doesn’t go through. I’m in my office standing near my desk. My phone is on speaker, the voice of manager for The New Deals echoing against the walls. He’s about a million years old and exceedingly cranky.
Marvin clears his throat loudly. “Now, the first clause, the definition of performer— that will obviously have to go…”
I am literally about to punch something. This is the third time that I’ve been on the phone with him in the last ten days. Every day is more irritating than the last. How do The New Deals get anything done?
Their manager is over here, telling me that the most basic language in my boilerplate contract won’t work. Who has time for this fucking bullshit? If I didn’t want the band so badly, I would just hang up right now.
Marvin drones on. “The thing about defining who the performer is… it’s bull. And let me tell you why…”
“Marvin,” I interrupt him. “Is there any way at all that I can get you to just send me a marked up draft of the contract?”
He sighs. “No. I hope you are making notes, because I only want to go through this once. I feel like you are young enough to learn something from it.”
I couldn’t roll my eyes any harder. Could he be any more condescending? “Yeah, listen. I’m going to have to call you back, Marvin. I don’t have anything to write on here.”
That’s distinctly a lie. I cast an eye over my notepad, open to a blank page, ready for my notes. I’m just not interested in having some old geezer lecture me about anything at this point.
Marvin clears his throat again. “Should we set an appointment for you to call me back?”
“Look for an email from me,” I say. Then I disconnect the line.
Rolling my shoulders, I walk to the office door. Across the hall, Owen’s light is on.
“Are you busy?” I call out.
There are several seconds of silence, then he yells back. “Come in, Luca.”
Striding across the hall and pushing his door open, I see Owen at his desk. His computer screen is open to a spreadsheet and there is a tired look on his face. He puts his hands behind his head and pushes back in his seat.
“What’s up, man?”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “You know that band, The New Deals?”
He squints. “Yeah, I think so. They’re new, right? Out of Houston, really grunge-y sound?”
“Yeah. I like to think they are a mix between the -era Stones and a heavier Nirvana.”
He nods. “Yeah, okay. I trust your judgment on that. What’s up with them?”
I lean against the metal doorframe. “Their manager is not from this era. Or the last, even. And he expects me to sit in my office and take notes on all the things in the contract that he takes exception to… and he’s so fucking condescending too.”
I make a strangled noise.
Owen’s eyes tighten. “That sounds like a drag.”
“Yeah. It really is. I really want the band to play here but I also like… I don’t let people talk to me any kind of way. He approaches me like I’m a kid or something. I’m a whole-ass adult that owns The Attic.” I make a face. “Marvin should be glad that I want to have h
is band come play a show.”
“Well, you own part of The Attic. Bradford and I own shares too.” Owen’s mouth curls up.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “You are ever the money guy, Owen. I just meant to say I’m not unsuccessful.”
He sits upright, arching a brow. “Do you want to have a drink? It’s only early afternoon but I’m about to go cross eyed if I look at another list of numbers.”
“God yes. Come on, we can grab a drink and pretend that our offices don’t exist together.” I turn around and head down the hall toward the front of the house. When I get out to the bar area, I stop for a second.
Down at the other end of the bar Cate stands with a guy wearing a shirt with the logo of our liquor delivery company. Cate is already full dressed for work, in her short dark dress and tall high heels. When I see Cate grin at something he says, hooking a strand of her hair behind her ear, my gut reaction is straight up jealousy.
I never felt that way before Madisyn dumped me. It just didn’t occur to me to care. Why would anybody I dated have any complaints? As far as I know, I’m basically perfect boyfriend material.
But now I’m broken. Seeing Cate talking to another guy, knowing that she doesn’t really belong to me… something inside of me twinges and curdles. Owen claps me on the shoulder, looking at me as if I’ve grown three heads.
“You’ll have to keep moving if you want to get to the whiskey.”
Shooting one final glare down to Cate and the delivery guy, I swipe a bottle of Four Roses and two glasses from off the bar. “I’m going, I’m going.”
I turn and head to a table two dozen feet away, setting the whiskey and the glasses down. When Owen gives me a questioning look, I shrug. “Privacy.”
We both sit down at the high top table. Owen glances at Cate and the delivery guy, pursing his lips. I pour out two fingers of amber liquid into each glass. Then I slide one to him with a frown.