“Can I come in?”
His mouth slackens slightly and he watches me carefully, like a lion is about to pounce on its prey before his very eyes.
It’s his lucky day. He’s going to get a front row seat to that spectacle.
My mind goes numb as I step past him, but my body is a live wire. Ryder’s words have been thrown to the very back of my skull, where I’m sure they’ll wreak havoc later, but for now, I’m safe. There’s no going back once I do this. No repairing my friendship—or whatever I have—with Natalie, and no undoing yet another nail in my coffin.
But this is what girls like me do, right? This is my path. Nothing exists beyond this fate. And it has to be done.
“So are you ready to go?” Nate asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. I begin to amble around his living room, checking out his various sports trophies and academic award plaques. I don’t see a lick of dust anywhere, and there are coasters on the coffee table. Coasters. With palm trees on them. We’re in the fucking Northwest.
I’m feeling more and more edgy as I stroll around the couch, and I decide it’s time to get down to business. Natalie is working at the diner until six tonight. I’ll see her in passing, when I go in for my shift.
I don’t dwell on that thought.
“What’s the rush?” I respond, sending him a coquettish smirk over my shoulder. His hands move to his pockets, and I see his Adam’s apple bob. His face is pinched with tension as he watches me prowl around his apartment.
“No—no—nothing,” he stutters, making a move for the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?” His voice is coarse and tight.
“Please.”
He opens the fridge and reaches for a bottle of water. “Something with more kick,” I say, before he even pulls it from the shelf.
“Oh.” He stills. “Okay, sure.” I hear him rifle around in the fridge for a few seconds as I study the picture frames on the wall. There are pictures of him with soccer and baseball teams, and shots of him with his family. Portrait-type shots, where they’re all fanned out beautifully on a massive lawn, the landscape dripping with elegant oak trees.
He returns with two beers and I thank him, clinking our bottles.
“Thanks for coming with me today,” he says, eyeing me as I lean forward to get a better look at his shots of the Grand Canyon.
I go straight for the kill. “Do you want to fuck me before we go shopping, Nate?”
Beer sprays from his lips and he struggles with a cough, but that doesn’t deter me. I begin to cruise toward him, taking a slow sip of my drink.
“Wh—what? Elise—”
“It’s a simple question,” I shrug, my smirk tipping my lips to dangerously challenging levels. “See, because I think you do. I want you to, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. So, I say we just cut through the bullshit and skip the whole dance. Show me to your bedroom.”
“Natalie—”
“Is working at the diner,” I finish for him. I drop my chin playfully and I reach out for him, placing my hands gently on his chest. He’s strung so tightly, the tension bubbling beneath his muscles pierces my fingers. God, has he been getting any at all? “We have plenty of time.” Leaning in, I nudge the edge of his jaw with my nose. My lips skim the space just below his ear and he hisses through clenched teeth.
“Elise,” he chokes out, gripping my shoulders. The muscles in his throat flex as I kiss a trail along his earlobe. “Natalie’s your friend.”
“She’s your friend.”
“She’s my girlfriend.”
I don’t respond, just back away slightly until I’m walking backwards, teasing him with a sway of my hips. I lock gazes with him and reach back for the zipper on my dress. His jaw is working so hard as he watches me, he’s going to chip some teeth. The sound of my zipper permeates the silence around us, and my sweater dress falls to the floor, forming a puddle around my feet.
“Holy shit,” Nate whispers, tugging at his collar. His eyes roll up to the ceiling and he begins tapping his fingers on his pant leg. It looks like he’s mentally counting to ten. My fingers reach behind my back again, this time locating the hook of my bra. In seconds, it’s undone and I’m standing before him in nothing but black lace panties and tall suede boots to match.
His eyes rip from the ceiling and land back on me, wide and desperate. He scans my body and I lean my weight on one hip, brushing my blonde locks over my shoulders so he gets a good look at my rack. “I can’t do this,” he says quietly. “Goddamn it, do I want to…you’re…fuck!” He covers his face and groans. “You’re so sexy, it’s killing me, Elise.”
“Then touch me.”
“Tell me not to.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You really want me to do this.”
Once again, I exchange words for action. I resume my prowl backwards and hook my thumbs into the sides of my panties, slowly wiggling them down my hips. A strangled sound emanates from Nate’s throat but he remains still, watching me feverishly. Just as my panties slide to my knees, I dip my fingers inside myself and then slowly withdraw them, bringing them to my lips. I suck on the tips and moan softly, fastening my eyes on his.
That’s all it takes.
He snaps and bolts forward so quickly, the breath is knocked from my lungs. His lips crash down on mine and I’m lifted off my feet and carried backward. My back slams into a wall and Nate’s hands are everywhere, groping my breasts, cupping my ass, and tearing my panties from my knees.
In seconds, my boots are off, and I scramble for his belt buckle. His fingers fumble over mine as we both work to get his pants off, followed by his shirt. I weave my fingers into his hair, gripping at the back of his head, and I lower him, guiding his mouth to my breasts. He latches on and sucks, and I reach down and wrap my hand around his cock, squeezing hard.
“You’re wicked,” he pants against the hollow of my throat as he trails back up to my lips. “So, so wicked.”
I bite down on his bottom lip and a little laugh simmers beneath my words. “You’ve wanted to be,” I whisper. “And now you are.”
He lifts me again and my legs fall around his waist as he carries me into his bedroom, where we collapse into a heap of pillows, sweat, and sin. I feel the roller coaster track clicking. Higher. Higher. Higher.
I’m right where I belong.
***
A lone tear sneaks down my cheek as I sit in my car. It’s raining and the heater’s on, creating splotches of fog on the windows. I stare out the front windshield, watching the droplets of rain hit the glass. They roll and merge, roll and merge, then slide down the car and back into the earth, where they’ll be useful again. Rinse and repeat. Beautiful.
I capture the rogue tear with my thumb and stifle a deep-building sob, one that I refuse to let out, because once it escapes, the dam will burst and I’ll drown myself right here, in my own car.
In less than five minutes, I have to step inside Stella’s. I have to say hello to Natalie and clock in for my shift, then go on for the next four hours pretending like my tryst at Nate’s never happened. Like I haven’t poisoned another man, another relationship.
My body feels limp as I pull it from the car and out into the rain. I dash inside Stella’s and shake out my hair, shivering as I remove my trench coat to hang it on the coat stand.
“Oh good, you’re here!” I hear her before I see her. Natalie trots up to me with a small gift box. It’s wrapped in red, green, and gold paper, and little golden specks of glitter give it a polished shine. Jay and Brad greet me from behind the counter in between speaking with customers at the bar. I nod to them but fix my eyes on the gift in front of me.
“What’s this?” I ask Natalie, wiping wet strands of hair from my face.
“It’s just a little Christmas gift,” she says modestly, talking it down like it’s not a pretty, well-presented present. She obviously went through a lot of trouble to wrap the thing. “I know it’s early, but since I’ll be out of town visiting family d
uring Thanksgiving and Christmas, I decided I wanted to give it to you now. Besides,” her shoulders lift in a shrug, “my family has this geeky tradition. We give at least one person an early gift, right before Thanksgiving. And I’m just so freaking excited to give it to you, so…”
She thrusts the box in my face and all of the air punches from my lungs.
“Well?” She makes an excited clap. “Are you going to open it?”
“Um…” My throat restricts and I fight for breath. “Don’t you want me to take it home and open it on Christmas?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She laughs, smoothing her red hair behind her ears. “No, open it now, lady!”
I survey the diner for the first time since I stepped through the door. The place is packed. No surprise there. I swivel around, in search of a place to set the box down. “Okay, here,” I say, leading Natalie to the end of the dining bar. My legs are jelly. There are two open seats and we squeeze into them, Natalie leaning forward expectantly while I struggle to keep my hands from shaking.
My fingers work over the elaborate gold bow, and I snatch a tiny gift card message from the corner before unwrapping the paper.
To keeping your dreams alive. Merry Christmas, lovely! xoxo Nat
It takes everything in me right then not to smash the box I’m holding, because my fingers are digging into it with reeling force. I work to loosen my death grip on the edges, taking a deep breath as I begin tearing at the festive paper.
A plain white box is revealed, and I tug at the top flap to peek inside. Two pieces of Styrofoam are smashed together, forming a casing of some sort. I pop out the case and pick at the tape keeping the Styrofoam pressed together. Natalie is barely containing her excited, hopeful squeal. I pull off the tape and the casing falls open, revealing a snow globe. I blink, and when my eyes focus on what’s inside the snow globe, my heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach.
The Eiffel Tower. The whole city of Paris, to be exact. A miniature version that is overshadowed by the historic landmark that frequents my dreams.
“Do you like it?” Natalie asks, her voice soft and full of apprehension. “Whenever you talk about visiting France and about how you almost majored in the language…well, you just light up. I saw it at the festival that night and just couldn’t resist.”
I can’t answer her, because my tongue is numb. I’m rooted to the seat, and my whole body feels like it’s been hit by a train. I hesitantly lift my hand from my lap to touch the globe. The city inside is carved so intricately, each little detail surprisingly crisp for such a small model, and there are little crystals mixed in with the snow that make the whole piece shine.
It’s the single most magical thing I’ve ever been given.
“Elise?” I hear Natalie’s voice again, but it’s muffled. Stilted. I have to stand up. I have to move, right now. “Are you okay?”
I’m suddenly on my feet, standing there, looking down at the fragile globe and all it represents. My throat is clogged with unshed tears, and I feel the dam from earlier violently growing. If I don’t get out of here right this second, I will break down in front of the whole diner, and no one, I mean no one, has ever seen Elise Duchamp cry. Natalie and Nate saw a glimpse of it, the day I had it out with Tim at the diner, but that was nothing compared to the threat looming right this moment.
“It’s amazing,” I finally say, my voice cracking. “I can’t even…” I don’t remove my eyes from the globe. If I look at Natalie right now, I will never ever recover from this. “Excuse me.” I dart from the dining bar and walk briskly toward the kitchen, where I pass by Brad.
“Elise,” Brad says, but I barrel right past him, toward the back of the building. “Hey!”
I reach the back door and slam it open, stepping outside.
“Hey! Elise!” I feel Brad on my tail, but I don’t care. I step out into the rain and let it saturate me, tilting my head back to feel the cold drops hit my forehead. “What the hell are you doing? Is everything okay?”
“Give me a cigarette, please,” I say flatly, closing my eyes.
“You…you want a cigarette? In the rain?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“Please!” I sob, a caving feeling crushing my chest.
“Shit, okay.” Brad feels in his pockets and ducks inside for a second, returning with an umbrella. He opens it and lights a smoke for me, pulling me under the umbrella with him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, taking a drag. I cough. “Can you please just tell Natalie that I’m feeling sick? I can’t speak to her right now.”
“Are you two fighting?”
“No.”
“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Brad, please.”
“Yeah, okay.” He sighs. “Whatever I can do, girl.” He kisses my forehead and leaves me with the umbrella, stepping back into the kitchen.
The heavy door slams behind him and I flinch. My nerves are fried, my heart is hollow, and my world is black. The rain continues to beat down on me, and it’s so clear, so pure, the sight of it makes me ache. The grass looks especially vibrant amidst this gloom, and glancing down at my feet, I realize even the black asphalt I’m standing on is pristine compared to the filth encasing my skin. I take deep, thorough drags from my cigarette as I’m bombarded with words that scrape at the wounds.
That’s all you are, you slut—a replacement. Sloppy seconds and an in-between quickie for every guy in this town who’s looking to fill a hole.
You’re wicked. So, so wicked.
You’re a dirty, filthy girl, and I fucking love you for it, baby.
I don’t hate those men for saying these things to me. Because I did this. It’s all me. They’re only voicing the truth, what they see and what they know to be real. I must have been dreaming to think I could cross over into Natalie’s world for a while—hell, even for a night. Or to think that I could fool someone like Ryder, that I could have a meal with a man on Thanksgiving without any lies, without any dirt. That I could be clean.
I can never touch foot on the solid ground enjoyed by people like Natalie, because I destroy everything I touch, and I am sinking—sinking into the quicksand I created.
“Elise,” a voice breaks my train of thought, and I’m further shaken to find Jay standing there in the open kitchen doorway. He lifts an umbrella above him and steps out to join me, his face solemn as he studies the cigarette in my hand. “Talk to me, hon.”
My lip quivers with my words. Part of that is the dampness sending chills down my spine, and the other part is those dormant sobs, waiting to rupture from my throat. “Did Brad send you out here?”
“Maybe.” He exhales and looks at me intently. “Is this about Tim?”
“What?” I’m so startled that I drop my cigarette and curse as I see it hit the wet ground.
“Here,” Jay says, handing me another from his pack. He lights one for me and himself. I accept gratefully, unable to look him in the eye. “Let me guess. You think I don’t know about Tim.”
My heart stalls in my chest.
He gives me a side glance. “Come on, hon. Who do you think I am, a chump?” He reaches out and strokes my cheek, and the touch causes me to wince. Why is he being so kind? Why is he so calm about this?
“Jay, I…” I fix my gaze straight ahead, watching the rain fall in sheets over the harbor. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He is calm, but there’s a snag in his voice as he speaks, like he’s struggling to maintain his cool. “I’ve known for a while now.”
“Tim told you.”
“Are you kiddin’?” He huffs with a sarcastic laugh. “He doesn’t need to say a word. I know his game. I knew it the moment he started coming into the diner. I remember telling him to stay the hell away from you, that he was skating on thin ice.” He shakes his head and takes a drag, watching the harbor with me. “The son of a bitch makes me so mad. You
don’t know the half of it, hon. Cheryl’s always been so good to him—so good to me. What he’s been doing with you isn’t just an insult to her, it’s an insult to our whole damn family.”
“Jay—”
“No,” he raises his hand with his palm facing me. “Just listen to me, Elise. Tim is a schmuck. He’s my brother, but he’s always been a schmuck. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. Cheryl knew what she was getting herself in to when she agreed to marry him, believe you me. That’s not what matters. That’s not my point.”
I am still frozen, staring out at the rain. Ashes spill from my cigarette, sending a gray flurry into the wind.
“All I want to say to you is that you’re too goddamn beautiful, too goddamn smart, and too goddamn good for a life like that, you hear me? Tim’s responsible for his own shit. So is Cheryl, for being with a schmuck like Tim. We all do what we do and we live with our choices. Some people do what they do because they don’t know any other way. They’re tainted. Bruised.” He turns to me now, and I’m forced to shift. He waits until I turn completely, so that he can look me straight in the eye. “I know your mother’s death wrecked you. I knew your father long before your mother died, and if you think that no one in this town knew what he was about, then you’re blind. We knew. We all knew. It’s why I gave you this job when you left college, and I don’t ever regret that decision.”
“Jay, please,” I cry, the volcano of hurt tearing through my chest, fighting its way up my throat.
“Nah-ah,” he reaches out from underneath his umbrella and places a hand on my wet cheek, like a father would a daughter, “I’m not done. You listen to me. Those other people don’t know, Elise. They don’t know how to change. They trudge through life just trying to survive, hurting themselves and dragging everyone down with them, because they’re sinking ships and that’s what sinking ships do—take the weight. But you—” he points to me, holding my gaze with hard, fierce eyes, “you know another way.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
The Replacement Page 9
