by Noelle Adams
“I’m not going to take your money. I’ll get stuff for everyone and be back as soon as I can.” Charlie took the keys Liz offered him.
“Please don’t hurry,” Liz told him as he turned to leave the waiting room. “We have plenty of time.”
When he’d disappeared through the doors, Vince gave a huff of something that sounded like amusement.
She turned to check his expression.
“That was pretty smart,” Vince murmured. “Giving him something to do. Otherwise, he’d keep driving us crazy.”
“He’s worried,” Liz said with a smile she couldn’t quite hold back. “He’s a really nice guy.”
“He is. He’s a good friend.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Since college. He lived in the room next door to mine. When I decided to move to Abingdon, I remembered he lived here, so I looked him up and discovered he was getting ready to move into Pemberley House, so it worked out for us to share a place.”
Liz nodded, wondering what Vince had been like in college, wondering how someone as aloof as Vince had become friends with someone as open and earnest as Charlie.
“So was your sister really feeling better, or did you just say that to relieve Charlie’s mind?”
“No, she really did seem a bit better. It must have hurt like hell at first because I’ve never seen her so pale.”
“I saw she was squeezing your hand on the drive over,” Vince said. “I’m surprised you were able to drive one-handed.”
“Fortunately it was an easy drive. I didn’t want to pull my hand away since she seemed to need it.” Liz sighed. “Poor Jane.”
“She’s pretty brave. A lot of people would have been moaning and crying. You should have seen the dramatics the guys on my soccer team would go into when they were injured.”
Liz felt strangely validated by Vince’s words, even though they were affirming Jane and not her. “She is brave, and she never goes into dramatics. But she was probably more stoic than usual because you and Charlie were there.”
“Why should that matter? We wouldn’t have cared if she cried.”
“Maybe, but people always put on a different face around other people than they do around family.” She slanted him a look, relieved when he met her eyes seriously. He appeared to be really listening, thinking about what she said.
“Another face?”
“Yes. You know what I mean, don’t you? You’ve got your real face and then the face you show to the rest of the world. The face you show to the rest of the world is always a little... better than your real face. More pulled together, more smart or funny or nice or in control or whatever it is you want yourself to be. You might want that outward face to be you, but it never quite is.”
Vince’s expression changed in a way she didn’t quite understand. His lips softened. His eyes deepened. “I thought it was just me who did that.”
“Of course it’s not just you. I think everyone does it. You put on your best face for the world and only show your real one to the people closest to you. Family or whatever.”
“Who do you show your real face to?”
She slanted him a quick look, her cheeks warming for no good reason. “My family. Em and Anne. No one else.”
“No boyfriends?”
She shook her head, oddly excited by the intimate conversation that had come out of nowhere. “Not right now. But even when I’ve had boyfriends, I’ve never shown them my real face.” She paused. Hesitated. But she’d always prided herself at speaking her mind, and she wasn’t going to stop doing so now. “What about you? Who do you show your real face to?”
Vince didn’t answer immediately. He stared at a spot in the air in front of him, his gray eyes blank and his jaw muscles rippling with tension. Finally he said very softly, “I’m not sure I show it to anyone.”
“What about your mom?”
“Maybe her.”
“Your brother?”
“We used to be close, but I haven’t spent much time with him for years. He always lives half a world away.”
Liz nodded and didn’t know what to say. It was very unusual for her, but it felt like Vince had burdened her with the weight of knowledge she wasn’t really ready for.
Like she now knew more about him than she should be allowed.
Finally she asked in a tone that was almost gentle, “What’s so wrong with your real face?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I... don’t know. I don’t think anything’s wrong with it—except it’s not who I want to be. My mom says that I live life on the surface. That I never go deep. Maybe she’s right.”
There was nothing she could say. Nothing that could match the weight of what he’d just told her.
She wanted to match it, to meet it, to show him that she was taking him seriously. She had to think a long time before she had something to say. “Maybe... maybe your friends and family know your real face anyway. They can see it... see it beneath the other face. People who know us well usually can. It sounds like your mom can anyway.”
“Probably.”
“And if you don’t like something about yourself, you can always try to change.”
“Yeah.” Vince turned suddenly to meet her eyes with an unexpected quirk of his lips. “How did we land in this particular conversation?”
She laughed, relieved that the intensity of the moment before was over and disappointed at the same time. “I have no idea. Must have been a temporary aberration.”
“Must have been.” He paused and then asked in a different tone. “Are you going to call your folks about Jane?”
“Yes. I will eventually. But I’d rather she be done with the doctor and back home before I do.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if I call now, they’ll all come right over here and it will be... a big production.”
“What do you mean a production?”
“I mean, my family isn’t exactly laid-back, and everything becomes a big deal. My mom would arrive and talk nonstop about how upset she is and how hard it’s going to be for Jane to deal with a sprained ankle and how attractive the doctors and nurses are and which one is likely to ask Jane out.” Vince chuckled at that, so Liz went on. “And Riot would come too and try to make sure all the attention is on her. She’d end up doing something embarrassing like hitting on a doctor. You know her, right? You know what she’s like. And my dad would be making sarcastic comments about everyone and pretending he didn’t care about what was going on. It would be a production. Better to wait until everything is settled and we’re out of here before I call them.”
“So your mom is kind of like Riot?”
“Yes. They’re actually a lot the same. Riot is still growing up, but she’ll probably be a lot like my mom when she finally does it. I’m kind of like my dad, although I’m more of a go-getter than he is.”
“So who is Jane like?”
Liz had to think about that. “I’m not sure. She looks like my mom, but her personality is not like either one of our parents.”
“Interesting.”
“Are you like your mom or your dad?”
“Much more like my dad.” Vince’s expression changed, and Liz suddenly remembered that he’d lost his father just a few months ago.
“You miss him?” she asked lightly.
He nodded, staring now at a spot on the floor. “Yeah. A lot more than I thought I would.”
“Yeah. I guess it’s always like that, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
It felt like they understood each other in a way they hadn’t before, and the thrill of it made her blood surge through her veins. When she looked over at him, she saw that he was looking at her.
Their eyes met.
The look deepened.
She felt herself leaning toward him.
It was kind of like last week at the party, when she’d thought for sure he would kiss her. But this was more than that. More than attractio
n. More than chemistry.
It was an intimacy she’d never dreamed she’d share with Vince. An intimacy she’d never felt before.
Vince’s eyes had warmed, and she was sure once again that he would kiss her.
She wanted it so much.
“I’m back!” Charlie. Returning far too soon with the sandwiches.
Everything changed after that. Went back to normal.
It was fine. Better. Definitely safer.
But kind of crushing just the same.
TWO HOURS LATER, CHARLIE was helping Jane in through the front door of their unit, and Vince and Liz were walking behind them.
“You can just help me to the couch,” Jane said, sounding tired and weak but as composed as she always was. “I’m supposed to elevate my ankle.”
It was a bad sprain but not a break, which was good news in terms of healing.
Liz was relieved the ordeal was over and hadn’t been as bad as it could have been.
Things had been a lot better because Charlie and Vince had come along.
“Do you need anything?” Vince asked softly, his eyes on Charlie as his friend lowered Jane to the couch.
“No. Thanks. We’ll be just fine now. I appreciate you both helping out.” Without thinking, Liz reached out and put a hand on his forearm.
Vince looked down at her fingers on his skin. His expression was unreadable. “It was no problem. We were happy to help. Just let us know if you need anything.”
He seemed kind of stiff now, and she suspected he might have regretted being so open in their conversation earlier.
As he’d admitted to her, he wasn’t the kind of person who usually let people in. And she wasn’t his friend. Or anything to him.
No wonder he seemed silent and awkward and like he wanted to get out of there.
She wasn’t going to hold him back.
Part of her might want a renewal of that intimacy, but if he didn’t want it, she wasn’t going to push.
It wasn’t like she really liked him or anything.
He was just interesting. A strange kind of challenge. And, yes, ridiculously attractive, but that was never the most important thing.
Not to Liz anyway.
“Come on, Charlie,” Vince said more forcefully. “We need to get out of their hair now. Give them some peace.”
Charlie said a few more things to Jane before he reluctantly walked over to the door. “Call us if she needs anything,” he said to Liz.
“I will. And thanks to you both. We really appreciate it.” Liz was smiling, but she was feeling weird now too, so she was as relieved as Vince when the men finally disappeared through the door.
“Are you okay?” Jane asked from the couch, when Liz stood and stared at the closed door for too long.
“Yes. I’m fine. Do you need anything?”
“No. Not now.” Jane gave her a sharp look. “So you like Vince now, do you?”
Liz stiffened. “Of course not!”
“It kind of looks like you do.”
“Well, I don’t. Not really. He’s not as bad as I originally thought, but I’m still the Annoying One to him, remember? And he’s the kind of man who never lets himself get close to people, so a girl would be pretty dumb to fall for him. He might be okay for a hot fling. But he’s not boyfriend or husband material.”
Jane didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t argue, so Liz was able to let the subject drop.
What she’d said was true. Vince had told her straight out that he didn’t let people in.
And he obviously wasn’t going to change that with her.
Best to just forget about him and move on with her life.
Five
A MONTH LATER, LIZ was headed for another estate sale at five thirty in the morning.
She’d left earlier this time just in case Vince was planning to attend too.
She wanted to be first in line.
Out of principle.
This was the first estate sale she’d attended since the one six weeks ago when she’d first met Vince. She’d been to a couple of auctions, including one last weekend where she’d encountered Vince. He’d come over to sit by her, and they’d chatted casually. She’d expected to have to compete for the best pieces—something that made the whole thing more exciting to her—but he’d been fairly laid-back.
She’d finally realized he was mostly just learning how those kinds of auctions worked, getting used to the pace and system so he could operate in them in the future.
It was hard to feel a genuine rivalry in such a situation, so she’d just enjoyed his company instead.
They saw each other fairly often now.
Charlie had devoted himself to helping Jane with her sprained ankle, and he was still taking her anywhere she wanted to go and bringing dinner in a few times a week. That threw Liz and Vince together more often than they would have been otherwise.
She felt like she knew him now. She was used to him. But it wasn’t like they were friends.
He still maintained that aloofness he’d had the whole time except for a few minutes in the hospital waiting room. She’d come to the conclusion that he wasn’t really as rude as she’d assumed at the beginning but also that he held people at arm’s length.
She was just as attracted to him as she’d ever been, but she was trying to talk herself out of that.
She’d done a pretty good job overall.
The only real slipup in the past month was two weeks ago. She’d been reading on a lounge chair in her favorite spot in the gardens when Vince had passed by on his run. He was in really good shape and ran nearly every day. He’d paused, running in place when she’d said hello.
He’d asked what she was reading—a cozy mystery—and then they’d ended up talking about books for almost an hour, right there in the garden.
She hadn’t realized he was a reader, but he was, and his reading was much wider than hers—ranging from literary classics to popular “book club” books. His dry commentary on their flaws amused her, even as she teased him about approaching books the same way he did people. He never let himself go all the way in with his emotions.
It had been the best part of her week. That conversation about books with Vince. At the end of it, when they’d gotten to their feet to leave, she’d said, “One day you need to read a book and just let yourself go.”
He’d taken a step closer and met her eyes. “How does one let oneself go in a book?”
“You stop separating yourself from the characters and story. You stop analyzing and judging and figuring things out. You just feel what the characters feel. You live with them. Feel with them.”
Somehow she’d gotten backed up against a tree, and Vince was leaning into her. She’d been brutally aware of him as a man, as a human being. The heat radiating from him. The smell of his skin. The tension in his muscles. She hadn’t been able to look away.
“Feel with them?” he’d murmured, thicker than normal.
“Yes. Feel with them. Just... just...” She’d been breathless and pulsing with excitement and need.
Vince had been so close. She could reach out and touch him. He could lean forward and claim her lips with his.
“Just what?” he’d asked.
“Just let go.”
The words sounded almost like a plea. Like she was begging him to kiss her, take her, let go completely with her.
She’d suddenly heard herself and cringed at the sound of them.
Vince had done nothing—nothing—to indicate real interest in her, other than maybe a superficial attraction that matched hers. And she was practically panting over him in an embarrassing way that wasn’t at all like her.
So she’d cleared her throat and added, “That’s how you let go with books. You should think about it.”
Vince had stepped back. His breathing was fast and shallow, although it had been an hour since he’d been running. “Ah. Got it.”
And that had been it. The only time she’d slipped up in the past mon
th.
She’d learned her lesson after that since the next time she saw Vince he’d basically ignored her.
She wasn’t going to be stupid about him. She was far too smart for that.
But she was still overly excited as she drove the half hour to the estate sale that morning. It was a good sale with a lot of items of potential value, although there wasn’t anything in particular that she was dying to get the way she’d been those Brandt paintings.
And there was a good chance Vince would be there.
She was going to beat him this morning.
She took the turn into the driveway and held her breath as she approached the large house. Then she let it out and smiled when she discovered there were no other cars in the parking area or along the driveway.
No fancy dark gray SUV.
She’d gotten here before Vince.
She parked her car, put her keys in her purse, and dug out her pad of sticky notes, getting herself organized. Before she’d done so, she heard a car approaching.
A quick glance beside her proved her immediate fear.
Vince.
He was here already, and she wasn’t yet out of her car.
She jumped out as Vince was putting his SUV in park, and their eyes met through his windshield.
She started walking fast, not wanting to run since it might look silly and undignified.
But she was going to be first in line this time.
She was halfway to the door when she became aware that Vince was behind her.
He had to know what she was thinking.
He was doing this on purpose.
He was trying to beat her just to prove that he could.
She ran. Flat out. As fast as she could.
Vince was chuckling as he picked up his pace, but there was no way Liz was going to let him win. She was moving so fast she couldn’t slow her momentum enough, so she slammed into the front doorframe with more force than she would have wanted.
But she’d made it first.
She let out a cry of victory, whirling around and raising her arms in triumph.
Vince was out of breath like she was, but he was still laughing, low in his throat, his expression warm and relaxed in a way she’d never seen it before.
