Nemesis

by Skye McDonald

  I’d made the mistake of doing this song one time, and it had automatically become Maddie’s top request. Since the child was diabolically irresistible, I had little choice but to pretend her big brown eyes were the only ones watching while I made my hand into a phone and went for it. Watching her make a phone hand and try to mouth the words made everything a little easier. Still, the second the song was done, I shut off the stereo and hurried us to the kitchen. Maddie kept warbling as I settled her into the highchair and began to make dinner.

  “I don’t think I ever heard that whole song before.” Will strolled in and dropped into a chair at the table.

  “Oh please, that’s totally your ringtone.”

  He nodded. “It almost was, but since I couldn’t find your version for download, I didn’t see a point.”

  Did Will Langer just make a joke?

  “You can sing,” he said when I didn’t reply.

  “Not nearly as well as some of my friends.”

  “Well enough to handle that maddeningly catchy song.”

  “You loved it. You stayed for the whole thing.”

  “It was… mesmerizing.”

  “I usually am.”

  “Mm-hm.” His dark eyes fixed on me in a way that made me fidget. I tugged at my cutoff shorts and scratched my hip to play it off, but Will didn’t speak again. At last, he checked his phone, and I turned my attention to the stove.

  Maddie began to babble at him about school. I listened and pretended I wasn’t while he questioned her about coloring and playground. “And what about your teacher? Is she nice?” he rumbled, his deep voice gentle and strangely adorable as he spoke to her.

  Maddie squealed that she loved Miss Rachel, but then added, “Livi’s the best.”

  “Liv is your aunt, not your teacher.”

  “And teacher too!”

  I hurried to set the plate in front of her and ruffled her hair. “Shh, eat up, sweetheart.”

  Will cocked his head. “What does she mean?”

  I ignored him and poured a glass of iced tea, but then I sat down at the table and shrugged. “I’ve been working as an aide at her school. It’s just a temp thing for extra money, no big deal.”

  “That’s a lie,” he said without hesitation. “There’s no way that money is worth the time investment.”

  I bared my teeth. “Look, I’m sure you bill at a thousand bucks an hour—”

  “No, I meant—”

  “But some of us have to hustle for our paychecks. So, don’t start about how poor I’d have to be to take a job, alright?”

  Will slapped the table. Maddie startled, and we both glanced at her, our glares turning to sweet smiles. She grinned and went back to her grilled cheese without further ado.

  Will’s voice was tight as he returned his attention to me. “Calm down.”

  “Tell me to calm down again and I’ll put your ties in the paper shredder.”

  Dark eyes rolled. “You are so dramatic. Can you please listen for a minute?”

  “Can you please try talking without sounding like a total d-bag?” With anyone else, I might’ve regretted sounding so harsh. Will pushed my buttons like no one else.

  The muscle in his jaw flexed, but then Will blew out a soft breath. “An aide at a daycare is minimal money. If you wanted a second income, you could find any number of things to do that would pay far better and be far easier. Therefore, your claim that it’s no big deal isn’t true. You must be interested in the work. Tell me more.”

  How did he know that so easily?

  “Did you always want to be in marketing?” The question was meant to redirect, but I knew it wouldn’t. Will Langer wasn’t the sort to be distracted if he was interested in something. And, for whatever reason, his analytical stare was trained on me at the moment.

  “It wasn’t my dream job. I wanted something that would require strategy and creativity but that would also be lucrative. Marketing was a good fit. Why? Are you thinking of becoming a teacher?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, that stare intensifying.

  Roll your eyes. Laugh. Shrug. Do something! Despite the directions my conscience shouted, I sat there mute, tea glass at my face. Finally, I set it down and licked my lips.

  “I,” I started, but then snapped my mouth shut.

  “What would it require? What age group would you teach?” he asked like I had said yes.

  “I don’t know yet,” I mumbled. “I just started.”

  “What made you think—”

  “You know, it was easier when you were being a jerk about the money. Maybe you should just tell me it’s silly, not grill me on details.”

  Will sat back. His eyes widened, but then he clenched his jaw. “Typical,” he breathed. Louder, he said, “Then you chose the wrong person. If you want to hear it’s silly, then ask a fool for his opinion. Don’t waste my time.”

  I hid my face in the crook of my arm. “Ugh, for one second could you stop being weird and just, I don’t know, pretend I’m not me? Give some encouragement that isn’t so damn cryptic.”

  Silence followed. I peeked up and found him on his phone. He set it down and cleared his throat. “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”

  We stared at each other a long moment before I began to laugh. Will pressed his lips in a line, but his grin broke through. I wiped my eyes and held up my middle finger. “That’s what I think of your words of encouragement, Langer.”

  He hummed. “Then next time, Milani, don’t ask me to pretend that you’re not you.”

  My brows lifted, but Will’s expression didn’t waver. Before I could think of a reply, Tom strolled in. Will eyed me again, then turned to greet him.

  “How’s it going, Livi?” Tom asked as he straddled a chair.

  “Good.” I jumped up and began to make another grilled cheese. “Want a sandwich?”

  “Sure. Are you going out tonight?”

  I nodded. “There’s a show at Third and Lindsley.”

  “What about, uh, what’s his name? Nick? Still hanging out with him?”

  “Mm, not really. Haven’t heard from him lately.”

  “Dick.” Tom’s voice had a big-brotherly edge to it as I set the plates in front of us.

  “It’s cool, Tommy. We may hang out again or maybe not. I’m good either way.” Even as I spoke, it struck me how familiar a thing it was to hear myself say. I took a big bite to dismiss the thought.

  “You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t take that from a guy,” he grumbled.

  “Ugh, Tom. You are so not my dad.”

  “Ugh, Liv, sound a little more like a five-year-old, little sis,” Tom groaned back with a chuckle.

  My eyes locked with Will’s again as I looked away from Tom. For a moment, I forgot to chew. His expression was blank, but instead of an eye-roll or sneer, he just arched a brow at me. I blinked, and his eyes got narrower—but his lips curled in the faintest of smiles.

  “Gotta go.” I jumped up and rushed out of the room before I could begin to think about what the hell that look meant, or why it felt so damn good to have finally talked to someone about my latest whim.

  One night later, a super toned chick in a black tank top and biker shorts smiled brightly at the group of nervous-looking people I stood among. I glanced around the warehouse-style facility that was the CrossFit gym, then over at Megan. She grimaced.

  “Okay, guys, let’s get started,” Ms. Biker Shorts said with wicked enthusiasm.

  In the hour-long “beginner” course, I’m pretty sure I sweated off at least ten pounds. The muscles in my calves were jelly when I stumbled to the locker room.

  “Dear god, why did I suggest this?” Megan groaned.

  “Clearly you’re a masochist.” I dropped to a bench and tried to muster the strength to peel off my shirt and crawl to the shower.

  She put her hands on her hips. “We need beer, stat.”

  “Oh, look! You found my second wind.” I laughed and got moving.

&nb
sp; At the closest pub, we downed what was possibly the most rewarding beer ever before letting the waiter talk us into ordering food. “Burgers for my ladies,” he said as he delivered the plates. “What are you two up to that’s got you so hungry?”

  “We’ve been at CrossFit.” Megan rested her chin on her hand and flashed a flirty smile.

  He whistled. “Y’all must be pretty tough.”

  Her smile got wider. “Damn right, buddy.”

  “My name’s Adam, and I’ll be back to check on you in a few.”

  “What do we think?” Megan asked as he sauntered away.

  I glanced at his retreating figure and shrugged. “He’s cute. Not my type, but you should get his number.”

  “Oh, suddenly you’re so generous. Trying to make up for ditching me at the party last Saturday?”

  The weekend party had indeed featured some new faces. One of the guys, a friend of a friend, had been cute and fun. We’d wound up flirting all night over a wicked game of Cards Against Humanity, but there was no great spark to make it memorable. Besides, Megan had been having plenty of fun with our friends.

  I harrumphed an objection as I ate. She poked her tongue at me, so I stuck my tongue out at her—with food on it.

  Megan clapped a hand over her eyes and laughed. “God, you’re disgusting. Please tell me that adorable move was how you snagged… what was his name?”

  “Chad, maybe? Something like that.”

  “Seriously? You don’t remember his name so you’re calling him Chad?”

  We giggled, and I shrugged. “It was a party, not a date. I didn’t even give him my number.”

  “Why not? Was Chad not tall, dark, and handsome enough for you?”

  “That’s not my only type,” I grumbled, and then grinned. “It’s just my favorite.”

  Megan eyed Adam across the room. I followed her gaze. He was talking to another waiter, cheek creased in an easy smile as he pushed his sandy blond hair away from his face.

  Megan hummed. “Well, here’s to whatever your pleasure.”

  I laughed and lifted my beer. “Amen, sister.”

  “Are we going to Jack’s for the Fourth tomorrow?” she asked once she’d unglued her attention from Adam.

  “Yeah, but I may need a wheelchair after the workout tonight. My glutes are already killing me.”

  “Hydrotherapy, baby. The pool will soothe all your aches.”

  “Here’s hoping.”

  Meg’s hazel eyes narrowed in a way that made me pause. Her assessing gaze was uncanny and far too insightful. I braced myself.

  Sure enough: “I’ve let you hide for too long. What in the hell is with this daycare business?”

  I thought about the email I’d gotten from Rachel yesterday that outlined how to become a certified teacher. I thought about how liberating it had been to talk about my new thing, even if it was with freaking Will Langer.

  And then, I nodded and spilled it all.

  5

  Will

  The Fourth of July was on Wednesday, thereby derailing the momentum of the week. There were barbeques I could've gone to. Clients and colleagues loved to host, but I wasn't in the mood to socialize and then go right back to the office the next day. Better to get a jump on a few things and enjoy some quiet.

  Tom had a 12-hour shift, and Maddie was with her grandparents. Liv had bounced out of the house earlier in beachwear, shouting goodbye to her brother, not bothering with pleasantries for me. Just as well.

  I started the day with a long bike ride, which was typical for a day off. Most of the afternoon was spent working at the kitchen table. By the evening, I'd made an impressive dent on my personal and professional to-do lists. Dinner sounded good, but I decided to wait a bit and zone out with some TV before making any decisions. My ass had barely hit the recliner cushion before the back door opened.

  Olivia appeared. She jolted when she spotted me. Her dark eyes rolled, which made mine do the same.

  “Hello, Olivia.”

  The look on her face said she caught the way I mimicked her from Saturday when I moved in. Really, what did she want from me? I’d been working on fitting that damn bed into a tight corner, and it wasn’t as if we were in the habit of hugging hello.

  “William.” She fiddled with the belt on the sexy getup she wore, shorts and a top all in one, whatever that was called. In it, her legs looked even longer, her tanned skin even more gold. Get out of here, Liv. I have no idea what else to say to you.

  The frown she usually wore when she looked at me didn’t waver, but she didn’t leave, either. It was clear she’d been swimming given her clothes and hair, so I used that as a reason to mess with her.

  “Is this a pit stop between parties? Time for a wardrobe change?”

  God, you’re such an asshole to her. I hated parties as a general rule because I found them exhausting. Still, there was a morbid fascination with what it would be like to be out with Liv, to see how she owned a room just by being in it. I couldn’t tell her that. I also couldn’t ask why she spent so many evenings out when she wanted to become a teacher. The next certification exam was in August, a fact I learned when I researched the subject after our conversation the other day. Shouldn’t she be studying?

  Shouldn’t you mind your own damn business?

  As ever, the queen of snark didn’t disappoint in her reply. That I-hate-you look turned into a saucy sneer. Her jaw clenched, but her comeback didn’t miss a beat.

  “Nah, not really. I’ve been tripping balls since noon and am probably seconds from passing out in a pool of my own vomit. Thought I’d call it a day.”

  My brow wrinkled as two images, one childish and the other very much not, competed in my head as an interpretation of what she’d said. “You’ve been what?”

  “Forget it.”

  Loser didn’t need saying; the implication was clear. Liv’s sneer deepened before she strolled past me into the kitchen.

  “Fuck,” I sighed under my breath as I snatched the remote, needing a distraction. Since it was July 4th, I knew just the thing:

  Do-do-do-do do-do-do-do…

  Liv skidded back into the room, a tall glass of iced tea in hand. Her brows arched. “What the hell are you doing? Did I just hear The Twilight Zone theme song?”

  The TV answered for me. “Submitted tonight…”

  I nodded, not bothering to explain that this was a tradition for me. “There’s a marathon every Fourth.”

  A delighted smile creased her face, lighting her up like I usually didn’t get to witness. Liv flopped down on the couch, her glass held high so as not to spill. “Hell yeah. I was going to go upstairs, but it looks like you’re stuck with me now, Langer.”

  “Hooray.” I muttered it. I wanted to laugh it. For just a second, I wondered how awkward this might be, but the show absorbed us both.

  Many episodes later, I rose from the chair and headed to the bathroom, unable to hold out another half hour. Dusky shadows darkened the house as streetlamps flickered on outside. When I returned to the recliner, I realized the TV was the only thing illuminating the room. Hours had slipped away, and we’d been too engrossed to notice.

  Salty, buttery aromas hit my nose. Liv appeared with a fresh drink and a bowl of popcorn in her arms. She sat on the center cushion of the sofa and began to munch. Dinner had been a thought ages ago; now, my saliva glands were working overtime.

  “That smells delicious.”

  I glanced at her, waiting for the zinger about making my own or how much she was enjoying it. Instead, Liv thumped the cushion beside her without blinking from the screen.

  “Then come have some.”

  When an opportunity presented itself, my instinct was to assess the situation from all available angles and look for the best outcome. This approach, much as I hated to admit it, was probably largely a result of the first time I met Olivia Milani. Nonetheless, it had served me well in business over and over again.

  And so, in grand fashion, I overthought the off
er until Liv cleared her throat, a clear message of what are you doing, Langer?

  Go for it. I went to sit beside her, and she passed me the bowl. “Thanks. I didn’t know you liked this show.”

  “Well, you see, I have good taste. So that would be a big fat duh.” She shook her head and licked her index finger.

  Blood rushed to my dick as I watched her finger slide between her lips. Her cheeky tone just made it worse. I returned the popcorn to her, grabbing another handful as I did.

  Before I could compose a good reply, Liv waved me off. “Ooh, hush, this is ‘Time Enough At Last’. It’s one of the first I ever saw, and I swear it fucked me up big time.”

  “Indeed.” I chuckled, anticipating the sick plot twist at the end.

  How I thought I could focus on the show with Liv Milani seated beside me, I have no clue.

  She smelled like summertime. Chlorine and sunscreen wrecked my concentration from the opening credits, and from there it only got worse. Every little sound or move she made vibrated my senses. When she shifted, our shoulders rested against each other. I swallowed a groan. Why did she have to be so warm, so fucking beautiful? What does she usually smell like? How is she not bothered by us sitting like this?

  Because she doesn’t care about you, ass.

  But then Liv tensed. I watched in my periphery as her chin lowered, her gaze on my hand as I reached for more popcorn from the bowl in her lap. Her breath turned to shallow puffs, and I withdrew fast.

  “I’m sorry, am I taking too much?”

  She jumped. “Nope! It’s cool. Have as much as you want.”

  I thought that’s what I was doing. Unsure what had gone wrong but certain something had, my shoulders stiffened. “I’ll go back to the chair.”

  Liv gripped my arm, her tone much more natural. “Don’t make things weird, Langer. Just eat the damn popcorn.”

  Her hand constricted, and again I had to keep myself from groaning. Harder, Olivia. Let’s find out how much I can take.