by Elise Faber
As a result, she continued to think of him the entire time she worked in the garden.
Hell, he never left her mind.
Not on the drive to the nursery, nor as she picked out plants and she wondered what type would be his favorite and if she got that extra flat of marigolds if she would be able to convince him to dig a few more holes.
She thought of him as she loosened the flowers from their pots, as she broke apart their roots and sprinkled in some plant food before tucking them carefully into the soil. She thought of his capable hands as she used her own hand to pat the dirt down, remembering how his had felt as they touched and stroked and caressed.
But when he’d called that night, she hadn’t picked up.
She’d let it go to voicemail then had listened to the short and sweet message he’d left, telling her he was thinking of her, that he missed her and for her to call him back anytime, and if not that he’d try her the next day.
But she hadn’t returned the call.
Hadn’t texted.
Instead, she spent the day in worry.
No matter all the grandiose promises she’d made to herself and him.
“Ugh!” she groaned, hating this, hating she was so insecure when it came to her love life. She was a confident and capable woman in every other part of her life. Self-assured at work. Self-reliant when it came to her house, her car, her life. She could change a tire, fix a leaking pipe. She could pay her own bills. Hell, she had learned how to patch her own roof last year when a big storm had ripped off a few shingles and she couldn’t get a roofing contractor out for a few days and hadn’t wanted her dad on the roof.
She could troubleshoot her WiFi and set up her cable box.
So, why couldn’t she be in a healthy fucking relationship?
Why did she need to lie to her family or feel inadequate?
Why couldn’t she open her heart to a man who was so clearly wonderful?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She jumped, panic swelling in her despite all of her homeownership self-reliance. Because it was nearly ten at night, and someone was pounding on her front door.
Kate grabbed her cell from her nightstand, her baseball bat from the side of her bed—it added to her capable because she could swing that sucker like a big-leaguer—and started to make her way out of her bedroom.
She’d hide in a closet or slip out the back door and she’d call the police.
There. Plan. Done.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It came again just as she stepped out of her bedroom, and she jumped, nearly fell down the stairs.
“Katie!”
She jumped again, but this time it was less fear and more startle.
Because she recognized that voice.
“Katie!”
Heidi.
One of her closest friends. They’d met in college. They’d bonded first over drinking too much and christening the porcelain goddess, and forever over nerding out about all the things—Hermione Granger and unicorns and board games and even gardening, though that was really more of Kate’s wheelhouse.
The point was that her very best friend was at her house, and it didn’t take a genius to know why.
She’d heard about Jaime.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Don’t try to hide, my Katie girl,” Heidi called. “I’ve brought wine and ice cream, and we are going to talk about it.”
And because Kate knew there was no point in trying to ignore Heidi—her friend put persistence to shame—she headed down the stairs, flicked on the light in the hall, and opened the front door.
Heidi strolled in as though they were mid-conversation.
“You’ve been keeping secrets, college roomie,” Heidi said with a tsk.
Kate groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Good,” Heidi said, flicking on the lights in the kitchen and making herself at home. It wasn’t a surprise. They’d been in each other’s lives for more than a decade, had lived together on more than one occasion—four years in college, four more until Kate had bought this house. Heidi had long ago moved beyond guest status and was firmly in the category of family.
Which is why she had little compunction opening up the cabinet that held Kate’s wine glasses and pulling out two. Another quick movement had her locating the bottle opener, and in the next few seconds, she had two glasses poured and had set one in front of Kate.
“I need your advice.”
Suspicion slid through her. “You’re not going to ask—”
“You about your fake engagement?” Heidi finished for her. “Fuck, yes, I am, because clearly you’ve got something big going on, but as much I want to squeeze every last bit of information out of you”—she lifted her hands and demonstrated her apparently very capable squeezing ability—“I also know your stubborn face.”
Kate frowned. “Stubborn face?”
“Yup.” A nod. A wave of her hand at Kate’s face. “Locked and loaded, front and center, insert other similar clichés here,” she said. “Which is why I’m going to wear you down with my life drama, and then you’ll dish on yours.”
Kate sniffed. “You wouldn’t make much of an evil genius, you know that, right?”
“Because I’m telling you my nefarious plan?” Heidi shrugged when Kate nodded then pointed at the wine glass. “You’re already halfway through that one. Another and you’ll tell me everything I want to know. Muahaha!”
Kate pushed the glass away.
Heidi snorted. “Yeah, right. It’s your favorite. I know you won’t be able to resist.”
Kate made a face. One, because her friend was right—it was her favorite. An ice wine from a small winery in Utah of all places. Two, because it was expensive, and she would feel too damned guilty if she didn’t drink it. Heidi wasn’t hurting for money, but she worked really hard and had pulled way too many hours re-stocking shelves at the college bookstore to afford to make her way through school, way too many hours doing double shifts in order to pay off her loans for Kate to waste some of her best friend’s hard-earned wages.
Kate’s mom getting the beauty deal just before college was the only reason Kate hadn’t been in the same boat.
She would have had the loans, the extra hours, the struggle.
Growing up without a lot of frills had taught her to appreciate the little things right along with the big—and no bills upon leaving school definitely qualified as big, same as the wine was a small luxury.
One that should be appreciated just as much.
One that had her scowling at her friend and taking another large sip.
Tart and sweet, with notes of berry, it was freaking delicious.
Probably why her friend was looking at her all smug and self-important. “If I have a hangover tomorrow,” she muttered. “I’m blaming you.”
“You know we’re finishing this bottle, right?” Heidi brushed her fingers over Kate’s forehead. “It’s small, so just three glasses each.”
“Three!”
A bop to Kate’s nose. “Release the lines. We’ll both be pleasantly drunk. I’ll spill, you’ll spill, we’ll all spill.”
Kate wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like a terrible childhood song.”
Heidi grinned, picked up her own glass, and took a sip. “I quit my job today.”
Since Kate had followed her friend’s example by drinking some of her own wine, she nearly spit all that glorious, tasty deliciousness out.
Let it be noted that spit takes were not sexy.
She repeated, they were not sexy. Sighing, she mopped up what had dribbled down her chin with a kitchen towel, while managing to swallow the rest, and glaring over at her friend. Heidi shrugged, not an ounce of remorse in sight. Kate set her glass down. “Why would you quit?” she asked. “You loved working at Carbon.”
Heidi was a molecular physicist whose field of study was the space between atoms.
Her friend had explained the significance of that to her on more than one
occasion but had never been able to dumb it down enough for a layman, such as Kate. Heidi could talk about work to only one person in their group, and that was Kelsey, who was a brilliant engineer, had earned multiple degrees—some just for “fun”—but even she couldn’t begin to match her friend’s expertise.
“It’s not sexy enough for you and your advertising brain,” Heidi had declared on more than one occasion, which was possibly true.
Okay, it was mostly true.
Once Heidi began down a tangent of how atoms were mostly empty space and the speed of the electrons orbiting them, Kate’s brain shut down.
So, Kate might not understand the nitty-gritty of Heidi’s job, but she understood her friend.
And her friend loved working for Carbon Industries.
Loved it so much that she’d turned down several lucrative offers for other biotech companies over the years.
Kate reached across and snagged her friend’s free hand, held it tightly with both of hers. “Why, Heid?” she asked. “I thought you were really happy there, and I think it was only a week ago that you mentioned your grant money came through.”
Hazel eyes lock on hers, and it was impossible to miss the sadness in their depths. “It did.”
“So, what happened?”
Heidi made a face. “The climate has just been deteriorating over the last few months,” she said. “You know we got bought out”—a pause, her gaze alighting on Kate’s for a moment before she nodded—“well, all of a sudden every step of our lab process has to be run through our corporate liaison. The product side of the company wants to make sure R&D”—research and development and the department in which Heidi worked—“isn’t wasting resources and money.”
“Okay.” Kate squeezed lightly. “That doesn’t seem all bad.”
“I didn’t think so either.” Heidi pulled her hand back and pushed to her feet, pacing through the kitchen. “The problem is that our liaison is never available. And when she is, she clearly doesn’t understand science. It’s only numbers and appearances, and it’s so infuriating.” She tossed up her hands. “I don’t have the supplies I need because the grant money is all tied up in corporate, waiting for my freaking liaison to approve the orders. Beyond that, I can’t get approval for my interns to get overtime so they can come in on the weekends or after hours to check our experiments because those are resources that HR refuses to approve because it’s too expensive.” She paced back, scooped up her glass, and took a large sip. “Never mind that all of that was built into my request when I wrote the grant and the funds are there—”
A sigh.
“I’m boring you.”
Kate jumped to her feet and rushed over to her friend, hugging her close. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I was just thinking that this is the first conversation I’ve had with you about your work where I could understand everything.” She pulled back on Heidi’s snort. “And I empathize. I know you worked hard on the grant, know that you were so excited to get it.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I was.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Heidi made a face. “I’m really going to miss my lab.”
“Are you . . .” Kate stopped, nibbling at her bottom lip, then figured she might as well just ask. She and Heidi had never hidden anything and if she didn’t ask, she’d worry. “Are you going to be okay for a while without a job? Money wise?”
A nod. “I’m good, Katie girl.”
Relief slid through her. “That changes, you let me know.”
“Will do,” Heidi said, “but I’ve already begun applying other places. Luckily, there aren’t too many people who can do what I do. I know it won’t take long to find something.”
“Smarty-pants.”
“Liar pants,” Heidi countered with a lifted brow that seemed to say, “your turn.”
“I haven’t even finished my first glass of wine yet,” Kate muttered, though there was hardly more than one drop left.
“Here.” Heidi topped her off then did the same for her own drink. “Second glass commencing.”
Kate pouted. “Bully.”
“Assertive,” Heidi said.
“Pain in my ass,” Kate muttered.
Heidi nodded. “Damn right.”
Kate sighed. “Annoying.”
“You love me,” Heidi sing-songed.
Kate did love her friend. So freaking much. Which was why she didn’t want to admit what she’d done. Heidi would understand, but Heidi would also . . . understand too much.
She knew all about Kate’s superpower.
“Can’t we just pretend you didn’t hear what you heard?”
“You mean, can’t I just pretend that you’re not fake engaged when your mom calls me and tells me we have to plan a surprise engagement party for you and the mysterious Jaime, and we have to do it fast?” Heidi shook her head. “No can do, babe. We can’t pretend that didn’t happen.” A nudge of her shoulder against Kate’s. “And you’re damn lucky she called me first and I could write my shocked-into-silence off as distraction by something in my lab instead of her calling Kels or Cora first. They would have balked and spilled the beans, and you know it,” she said, naming their other two closest friends. “I told her I would do a survey of everyone’s availability and get back to her, but Katie . . . this is a big lie.”
“I know.” She tried to swallow down the guilt and asked quietly, “How’d you know it was a fake engagement?”
“Really?” Hazel eyes bored into her. “We all had dinner not even a week ago, and you went on and on about how you were worried you’d be re-virginized because it had been so long.” A roll of those eyes. “That convo ring a bell?”
Oh. Yeah. That.
“Pretty short courtship for a real fiancé,” Heidi said.
“I—”
Heidi cut her off. “Why’d you do it?”
Kate made a face. “My mom was going to set me up again, and I just blurted something out. I didn’t even really mean to say I was engaged. It just slipped out and then it was out, and she was so thrilled that I didn’t know how to take it back and—”
A nod. “Thus, the lie grew.”
Kate winced. “Yeah.”
“So, who is he?” Heidi asked.
“JaimeTheVet,” she said.
Heidi blinked. “The Instagram guy with the man bun that you’ve drooled over for months?”
Kate nodded. “Though he doesn’t have the man bun anymore. He cut it off because he didn’t think my parents would approve of him having long hair.”
“Really?” Heidi exclaimed. “But his hair was so nice—” She stopped herself midsentence with a wave of her hand. “That’s not the most important conversational hurdle at this point. Did he teach you how to do that flawless bun?”—her gaze went to Kate’s, who shook her head—“Damn. Okay, we’ll circle back to that glorious hair later. The more important part of this story is that he doesn’t know you, so why would he agree? Are you paying him?”
A shake of her head. “No,” she said. “I messaged him after I talked to my mom. I knew it was an insane thing to do. I mean, I totally get that. But then I asked him, and he said yes, and we agreed to go to dinner on Thursday, and he was late because he was doing a procedure on a guinea pig with a heart problem, and then he held my hand, and we walked to the pier, and then he kissed me, and it was hands-down the best kiss of my life.” She gulped down more wine. “I like him, Heidi. A lot.”
“But does he like you?”
Ouch.
Kate dropped her stare to the granite, taking in the flecks of silver amongst the pale blue, blinking hard.
Does he like you?
That was the crux of all of her fears, wasn’t it?
Did he like her, really? And if he did like her genuinely, would that like last? And if it lasted, would that lasting be days or weeks or months before he betrayed—
Heidi’s hand covered hers. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she murmured.
Kate’s throat
burned, but she squeezed out. “I know.”
“No,” Heidi said, “I don’t think you do.” Her friend tugged the glass out of Kate’s hands, gripped her wrists tight. “You are one of the best people I know. You’re smart and funny and kind . . . even though you have a weird redheaded connection thing with Hermione Granger.” Kate snorted. “You do,” Heidi said, lips tipped up at the edges. “But I love you, and you’re my fucking best friend, so believe me when I say that there is no person on this planet who deserves to have everything they want more than you.”
“A big but is coming,” Kate muttered.
“Yes,” Heidi said. “Except, the but is that I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Neither did she. It was why she kept throwing up barriers between herself and Jaime even though she really liked him. It was why her mind kept pulling her back even though her heart continued to encourage her further.
“He says he was drumming up the courage to ask me on a date when I messaged. That he took the opportunity to get to know me. He says he wants more dates and wants to prove that I can trust him.” She sighed. “He says he knows that takes time, but that he can be patient. And—” Her gaze flicked to Heidi’s. “He brought me breakfast and paid attention enough to know that my favorite breakfast is from Molly’s, that I love mochas. And he’s the oldest of four and is great with babies—he even managed to get Lacy to not have a meltdown for almost a half hour. Then he handled my mom and dad and brother and sister with aplomb and kindness. And he takes care of a rooster named Barry, who walks on a leash.”
Chest heaving, she pulled out of Heidi’s grip, shoved her hair out of her face.
“And I’m fucking terrified,” she said, eyes burning. “Because I like him, too. Because this was just a stupid lie, and I hardly know him. Except, I do know him.” She thumped a fist against her chest, just over her heart. “I know him here. From the moment I met him, it was like I had this connection to him. And not even all physical, because of course he’s beautiful and sexy, anyone could see that. But because he-he’s—”
“Different.”
She glanced up at Heidi. “Yes. He’s different.”
“And you don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I’ve jumped into things with men too many times in my life, Heidi. I’ve thought they were all different, that they were all good, and when they didn’t work out, I thought that it was just a matter of finding a man who could be the one. That I just needed to keep looking.” She closed her eyes. “Then I realized that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place over and over again. Then I realized it was me. I was the thing that connected us, and I’m the thing that’s wrong in every relationship I’ve had.” Another thump of her fist to her chest. “I’m the messed up one that makes everything implode.”
