Picture This

by Jayne Denker

  She sighed resignedly. “That’s Niall.”

  “Problem between the two of you?” Sera asked, her voice tight. She was obviously ready to defend her longtime friend by whatever means necessary.

  Celia knew the level of whup-ass Sera could unleash, so she downplayed the situation. “We just had a . . . small difference of opinion back at the farm.”

  “I think he wants to clear the air,” Jaz said, pointing at the Corvette, which had slowed to a crawl, its red lights still flashing. “It looks like Morse code.”

  “It looks like he’s having a spasm,” Sera corrected. “What do you want to do?”

  Both cars were coming down the stretch of road that emptied out onto Main Street. Niall turned the corner, still slowly, then pulled over into an empty parking space alongside the curb. Celia sighed again and unbuckled her seat belt.

  “Let me out. I’ll talk to him.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  And she was. It had been a long day—a very long day—and she just didn’t have the energy to fight another battle on another front. If Niall wanted to talk, then she was up for it. She was a little worried about what path their conversation would take, but she was tired of dodging the issue between them.

  Chapter 22

  Niall met her on the pavement next to his car, watched as she waved a concerned-looking Sera and Jaz off. When they were alone, he said his usual “Hey.”

  “What do you want, Niall?”

  “I want to explain.”

  “I don’t exactly need an explanation.”

  “There’s where you’re wrong. Come on.” He hitched his head toward the sidewalk and started walking; Celia followed. The humid air was heavy with the promise of rain, and as they walked, a bit of moisture misted their faces. After they’d gone half a block in silence, Niall said bluntly, “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, no. I’d never be sorry about that. I’m sorry I upset you. I . . . Look, I would never ask you to compromise your principles.”

  “You already did, back at your apartment.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “No. And that’s what I want to explain—”

  “You know what my legacy is?”

  Niall paused, confused at the sudden turn in their conversation. “Your what?”

  “My legacy. My identifying trait, what’ll follow me for my entire life. Know what that is?”

  “What?”

  “I’m nice. I’m reliable. I’m dependable. I’m . . . sweet.” She spat out the last word.

  “Well, that’s hardly—”

  “I hate it!” she burst out. “I’m thirty . . . um, past thirty-five, and I’m . . .” She hesitated, then said, “I’ve lived a good chunk of life. And still, everyone around here sees me as the sweet little teenager they remember—the cheerleader, the reliable babysitter, the prom queen.”

  “I knew it! I knew you were prom queen!” Niall crowed, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  Celia pointed down the block. “Over there’s where I had my first after-school job, working at a day care.” A damp breeze lifted her hair; she absently pulled a few strands out of the corner of her mouth, then indicated a spot across the street. “Over there? Took all the senior yearbook photos for free, after the photography company screwed them up. Down there?” She pointed into the distance.

  “Don’t tell me. You hung out on the corner, waiting for Mrs. Trudeau to come by so you could help her cross the street.”

  “Rousseau. And no, I didn’t, but I might as well have.”

  Niall stopped walking. They were next to Marsden Mercantile, closed for the night. “And here’s where you shoplifted for the first time—”

  “The only time,” she corrected. “And I’ve felt guilty about it for decades.”

  “My point is, you’re not the Goody Two-shoes you claim to be.”

  “That’s my point as well.”

  “Okay, now I’m confused.”

  “Everyone assumes I’ll always do the right thing. That I want to do the right thing. But . . . those principles you mentioned? I’ve been ready to compromise them since the first time you kissed me. Since the moment we met.”

  There—right there. Those words brought him back from the brink. He could have grabbed her and kissed her again. And again. But he stayed where he was, two steps away, and kept his voice level. “No, you haven’t. Or you would have by now.”

  “I kissed you back, both times.”

  Niall took a step toward her. “I’m very, very aware of that,” he said softly. “If my mind gets erased and I lose every memory, including my own name, I know I’ll still remember what it feels like when you kiss me.”

  Celia froze, eyes wide. He stared at her full lips, parted slightly, calling to him whether she meant them to or not. Oh, he wanted to kiss her right now, principles be damned. Right there, in the middle of town, for everyone to see—if there had been anyone to see. So far the street was empty except for the two of them. The mist increased to a drizzle. He barely noticed.

  “So . . . our little game of secrets in the car on the way here . . . I think it’s time for another round. In fact, I think we both have some truths we need to get out in the open.”

  He started walking again; Celia caught up with him in a couple of steps.

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . . I know why you get upset when . . . when you think I’m not respecting Tiffany,” he said carefully. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and went for broke. “Look, I’m sorry, but I already know you’ve been married—and divorced. I know Matt left you for Laurie. You know better than I do that the folks in this town were way too eager to tell me. On, like, my first day here.”

  “Okay, now you know all about it, thanks to Audra, I’ll bet,” she growled. “Fine. It’s no big deal.”

  “No, I don’t know all about it. I haven’t heard the important stuff that has to come from you. How it affected you back then, how you feel about it now. Because obviously it did affect you. And that is a big deal.”

  “Of course it affected me. But I said I was over it.”

  “I heard you. Don’t believe you, though.” She started to reply, but he went on. “You said cheating is evil. And you thought I wanted to cheat on Tiffany with you. But that’s not exactly true.”

  “Not ‘exactly’ true?”

  “Tiffany was never really my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “I mean it. You’ve heard about Hollywood relationships that are manufactured for publicity, right?”

  “That actually happens?”

  “More often than you think. And for a lot of reasons.”

  “Like when someone is gay but wants to hide it?”

  “That’s a pretty common one. It’s not the reason in this case. At least, I don’t think so. Not me, but who knows with Tiffany . . .”

  “Stick to the point.”

  “Sorry. Anyway, it was the studio’s idea. To give that stink bomb Party Clown a boost at the box office. Didn’t work, by the way. We both signed a contract stating that we’d be ‘a couple’ for a certain amount of time. I got paid for the . . . um . . . extra work.”

  Celia winced. “You slept with her for money?”

  Niall stopped short. “What? No! It’s called acting, Marshall. I whore myself out plenty, believe me, but not literally.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “It was never a problem, until I met you . . .” He looked down; they had stopped by a bench under a streetlamp. This one was covered in blue and gray knitting—another yarn bomb courtesy of Wendy and the rest of the guerrilla knitters. He picked at the yarn, beaded with moisture from the drizzle, then looked back up and straight into her eyes. “When I met you, I did everything I could to end the contract early. So I could be with you. If you’d have me.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded, still dead serious
. “Our lawyers worked it out—because this was a contractual thing—and the text I got tonight was a copy of the dissolution letter, signed by Tiffany. All I have to do is sign it as well, and I’m a free man. That’s the truth. As for kissing you . . .” He grinned at her. “I tried to hold off, I really did. I couldn’t.”

  Celia crossed her arms, one hand over her mouth, and looked away. He couldn’t read her, and it terrified him. Had he just lost her?

  “. . . Celia?”

  She stayed silent for another moment or two. Then, “My turn for a secret?”

  “If you want.”

  She took a shaky breath and started walking again, slowly. Niall fell into step beside her. “Yes, first my marriage, and then my divorce, wrecked me. I thought I was doing the right thing by marrying Matt. He was from Marsden, and it’s not every day you can find your soul mate—or the person you think is your soul mate—in a town of a couple thousand people. Do you . . . do you remember what else I told you in the car on the way here?”

  “I take it you’re not talking about the time you burned your wardrobe.”

  “Tried to. But no, not that. Do you remember my worst secret?”

  “Cheating on Casey.”

  “Right. The person I cheated with . . . it was Matt.”

  “Ah.”

  “When Casey and I started drifting apart—when he was in college and I was back here in high school—I slept with Matt. Then I was absolutely horrified at what I’d done, so even though Matt wanted me to break up with Casey and be with him, I said no. When Casey and I finally ended things, I blamed myself—for sleeping with Matt that one time. Now I know we would have broken up anyway. But that doesn’t matter. When Casey was out of my life, I thought it was my fate to end up with Matt.”

  “But Audra said you didn’t go out with him right away.”

  “Right. I stayed away from him for a long time, which just made him chase after me all the more. I finished college and started working as a graphic designer for Ray at his print shop. I didn’t go out with Matt till years later—not till I was settled in my life and ready for another serious relationship. Then I gave in because . . . he was still there.”

  “I’m not going to ask what it was like working for Ray.”

  Celia smiled a little. “Good call. That’s a different story.”

  “When did things start to go bad with Matt?”

  “Uh . . .” She let out a rueful laugh. “Right away? I was kidding myself—we were never really compatible. But I tried to make a home with him, and I thought we were good for a while. Then he started cheating on me with Laurie. I didn’t know it at the time—and when I found out, I felt so stupid for not figuring it out sooner. We’d barely made it to our fifth anniversary when he told me he was leaving me to be with her.”

  “And she was really a teenager?”

  “Matt’s the high school soccer coach. She was his star goalie. He talked about her all the time, but I thought he was just proud of her.”

  “He hooked up with her when she was a student?”

  “Thank you for being horrified. So was just about everybody in town. But no. He might have had his eye on her at the time, but to his credit he waited until she graduated.”

  “As far as you know.”

  “Believe me, I lost a lot of sleep wondering.”

  “And you had to see them around here after that, before you moved to New York?”

  “It was pretty awful, but it helped that everyone in town was on my side. Say what you want about this place, but when the entire population’s got your back, there’s nothing like it. They protected me and froze them out.”

  “And it’s still going on,” Niall guessed, thinking about how Ray tried to keep Laurie out of the contest.

  “Old habits die hard. But really, it’s not fair to Matt and Laurie. Even though I enjoyed everyone’s sympathy when it first happened, I don’t think they should be punished forever just for making some stupid choices. And now that Laurie’s . . .” She couldn’t get the word out.

  “Pregnant,” he prompted.

  “Pregnant,” she finally mumbled. “This is going to affect their baby. That child is going to have to grow up here, and the absolute worst thing about that is the generations of history that follow you around. Ask George about it sometime. She’ll bend your ear for hours.”

  “Matt cheated on you, left you for an eighteen-year-old—”

  “He waited till she was nineteen.”

  “Whatever. And you want the town to be nice to them? That’s . . .”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t make me out to be some sort of saint, because I’m not. It’s just . . . what’s right.”

  He shook his head in wonder. “Amazing. You’re amazing.”

  “Niall . . .”

  “I still think you’re lying, though.”

  “What?”

  “You say you’re okay with it, but I saw the way you reacted when they walked into the auditions. Just seeing them together got to you.”

  “Well . . . sure. Of course it did.”

  “But you were all, ‘Let Laurie sing—I don’t mind.’ Right?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded.

  “Okay, and all this other stuff—your parents making you handle your grandmother’s situation—it gets to you too. You nearly collapse, but after a few minutes to recover, you pick yourself up and act like it’s nothing. Don’t tell me a foot massage and a good dinner made all that go away.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “All right then.”

  “A foot massage, a good dinner, and a couple of glasses of wine made it all go away.”

  Niall growled low in his throat. “Stop joking around.”

  “Oh, that’s something, coming from you.”

  “I’m a professional. Don’t try this at home.”

  “So . . . what? You’re asking if I’m really . . .”

  “Suppressing massive amounts of rage, yeah.”

  Celia finally burst out laughing. “I can’t say that I am.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t tell me all this stuff doesn’t piss you off. Everything at once, no less? Your parents’ crap, your grandmother’s issues, seeing your ex-husband pampering his pregnant girlfriend—”

  “The way he never did with me.”

  “See?”

  “Are you trying to get me angry?”

  “No! I’m trying to get you to tap into the anger you’ve already got buried in you.”

  “And do what?”

  “Let it out. Release the kraken.”

  She shook her head and laughed again. “No.”

  “Mm. Unhealthy.”

  Celia stared at him, defiant and resolute.

  He tried another tack. “Answer this question: What do you want?”

  “What, right now? Ice cream.”

  “I’ll buy you ice cream. But first you have to tell me what you really, truly want for yourself. Bigger than ice cream, woman. The biggest.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I want my parents to be . . . parents, instead of self-centered brats. It’s like I spoiled them—they expected the world of me, and I met their expectations, so now they just . . .”

  “Take advantage.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “I want to stop saying yes all the time, to everyone, not just my parents. George was right—whatever anybody asks me to do, I do.” She thought another moment. “I want to be a photographer, not just work for Vic.”

  “No reason why not.”

  “I want . . .” Celia suddenly stopped walking, spun around until she was toe-to-toe with Niall. “Are you really telling the truth about you and Tiffany?” she demanded.

  Back to that, then? Niall was a little surprised, but he answered immediately. “I swear. Here.” He dug out his phone and brought up the file Trent had sent him—the letter of dissolution, with Tiffany’s loopy tween-like signature at the bottom. It never failed to surprise him
that she didn’t dot the i in her name with a heart or a flower. He held up his phone, and Celia took it from him. Niall stood over her while she read the letter. The light rain had accumulated in beads on her hair, catching the light from the streetlamps, making her look like she was adorned in precious gems. A wave of her scent, still fresh and flowery even after a long day, drifted toward him.

  “I have a question,” he murmured.

  “What?” she asked, eyes still on the screen.

  “Why did Matt ever leave you?”

  Startled, she looked up. After floundering for a moment, she stammered, “The . . . the usual. He fell in love with somebody else. Happens every day, right?”

  “No, I mean how could he ever leave you? Is he insane? You . . .” He faltered, barely aware of what he was saying, barely aware of anything except the beautiful woman in front of him and the pull of his body, and his heart, toward her. “You’re perfect.”

  “Niall, I’m not—”

  “You are.”

  She could protest that she wasn’t perfect or special or out of the ordinary all she wanted. Niall knew otherwise. His heart hammering in his chest, every single nerve ending in his body vibrating with energy, he wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms again, kiss her even more deeply, even longer, than he had in the kitchen at the inn. But he didn’t dare. He stopped talking and didn’t move a muscle.

  She kept her eyes down, making a business of pushing the button on his phone to turn off the screen and handing it back to him. He watched the smooth, soft skin of her neck move slightly as she swallowed.

  “And you have to sign this letter now?” she asked.

  “Yep,” he rasped.

  “And then it’ll be over?”

  “Yep.”

  Celia took a deep breath. “All right, then. What I want . . . ?”

  “Mm. Go on.”

  “You.”

  And suddenly she rose up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him for all she was worth. He stumbled, surprised, but recovered quickly, meeting her lush lips, pulling her to him and lifting her off her feet completely. He kissed her deeply, and deeper still, biting her bottom lip just a little, just to get her to make her hungry noise once more. And there it was. Then his lips were everywhere—her cheeks, her chin, her eyelids, her neck. He nibbled on her earlobe. She squirmed a little, giggling. He pulled back for a moment to see her grinning from ear to ear. She was happy.