by Jill Shalvis
“I know. But I told him the truth, that I only liked him cuz of his candy, and he gave it to me anyway. Do you think a bad guy came in and stole it?”
No, not a bad guy. A bad aunt.
“Will you help me look?” Millie asked.
“Sure,” Brooke said, just as she caught sight of Garrett coming through to refill his water bottle, a mocking—and annoying—smirk on his face. He waited until Millie was head deep into the clothes hamper, searching, before he mouthed a single word to Brooke.
Monster.
Then he walked out of the room. She did her best to shrug it off as she and Millie “searched” the house for the “stolen” candy. They were in the hallway, Millie melting down and Brooke close to doing the same—how the hell did Mindy do all this and work the smoothie shop thirty hours a week?—when Garrett reappeared and tossed a packet of candy to Millie.
SweeTarts.
He’d replaced them. His gaze met Brooke’s. He was still smiling, but as whenever he looked at her, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Monster . . .
He’d been joking, but she’d taken the word to heart because she knew that it was actually true.
Chapter 4
“Sometimes you just need to lie in bed and rest for a couple of years.”
Mindy’s plan had been to sleep in Brooke’s condo for three days straight. She managed two days, not leaving the bed except for the important things, like when the remote fell off the nightstand, or to answer the door for Tommy, who’d marathoned Law & Order: SVU with her, and then dragged her out to eat at the most amazing places. She’d told herself that whatever calories she consumed while on brain vacay didn’t count. And for the first time in her life, she’d been grateful for Linc’s one-text-a-day rule. It meant she hadn’t yet had to admit she’d sent the kids off with the sister she hadn’t seen in a year.
As for work, the only thing she’d had the energy to do had been to call into the shop. Though she had a wonderful assistant manager, Xena, a longtime coworker whom she trusted, she knew Xena hadn’t counted on being in charge for an extra couple of days. Keeping the scheduling, deliveries, and bookkeeping in order was more than a full-time job, and it was a lot to ask of someone. For a while now, it’d been too much for Mindy. Running the shop had gone from something she loved to something that took too much of her time and effort and completely drained her. The only thing she’d missed about work in the last two days was the baking she did to sell out of the shop’s front display, because baking fueled her soul.
“No problem!” Xena had said easily when Mindy got a hold of her. “My horoscope said there’d be a new opportunity for me this week because Jupiter and Earth are aligned. You do you, sweetness, you’ve been high-strung for a while now.”
Mindy winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Burn some sage, cleanse your aura. Just worry about yourself. I’ve got this.”
Mindy hung up, feeling better about that one area of her life, at least. She’d spent most of her life trying to be perfect, which had finally sucked the soul out of her and left her feeling like she was free-falling into an abyss.
She didn’t know how to do it anymore.
She was lying in Brooke’s amazing bed, smelling delicious from all Brooke’s products, going through Instagram, when she came upon a post of Linc’s. His account was private, and usually his pics were of her and the kids. But today there was a pic of him at his conference. He was looking extremely handsome in a suit, sitting at a table surrounded by his colleagues, all male except the woman at his right. Linc had thoughtfully typed in everyone’s names: Dr. Gerry Lepenksky, Dr. Carlos Ramirez, Dr. Scott Wells, and Dr. Sam Whitney, all of whom she’d heard him mention many times. What had not been mentioned was that Sam was a woman. A tall, beautiful, auburn-haired woman who was smiling at Mindy’s husband like maybe he was lunch and dinner and dessert all in one.
A long minute—or a year—went by. When Mindy could breathe again, she called Brooke.
It’d been a long time since they’d been each other’s go-to person, but suddenly she needed her sister more than she needed her next breath. Only problem, she’d called home so many times that Brooke was now answering the phone with “Hot Mess Hotline, how can I help you?” which was making Mindy feel even more guilty. She disconnected before the call could go through.
And then called Garrett.
He answered with a sigh, reminding her that she’d also called him a bunch of times, wanting details on how Brooke and her kids were doing. He was a close friend and often her voice of reason—and okay, throughout the years she’d also had a periodic crush on him, so sue her. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“The kids?”
“Also fine.”
It was her turn to sigh. “Can we pretend the word ‘fine’ doesn’t exist and try again?”
She could practically hear him roll his eyes. “The kids did get food poisoning.”
Which she knew from all her calls and texts to Brooke. But her sister spoke less than the men in Mindy’s life. She knew the kids were okay, but were they okay okay?
“Brooke seemed to handle it just fine—” He broke off when she hissed at his word choice. “She handled it well. Relax, Mindy. Breathe.”
She gulped in air and relief, and disconnected. Everything was okay, meaning she could take this last day and head home tomorrow morning.
But the very thought made her stop breathing again. She was still panicking when Tommy let himself in, carrying a pizza box.
She’d discovered that Tommy was an amazing friend. She wouldn’t want him for a lover, since he was utterly disinterested in keeping anyone for more than one night. But as a friend, he was damn near perfect. He was funny and smart, and he loved food as much as she did. And being tall, dark, and gorgeous, he also gave her something to look at. But it was the pizza catching her gaze now. “You know I try not to eat gluten. Or too many carbs.”
“Duh,” he said. “That’s how you stay a MILF.” He set the box down on the bed. “It’s a cauliflower crust, topped with chopped veggies like kale, spinach, and peppers. No gluten. Low carbs.”
Mindy sat up and reached for a piece. She took a bite and moaned. “Oh my God, I love you. Can I steal you away from Brooke?”
“Not a chance. And if you tell her I let you eat in her bed, you’re dead to me.”
The twinge of jealousy wasn’t attractive, she knew this. But Brooke had everything: an exciting job, great friends, sexy lovers . . . She’d met Cole last night when Tommy had brought him along for dinner, and wow. The guy was smoking hot and clearly had a thing for her sister. Even more impressive, Brooke had managed to get herself this fab life away from Wildstone and their parents’ expectations. Her sister’s life was infinitely more exciting than hers. And easier.
Tommy sat his very fine ass on the corner of the bed.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Mindy asked.
“Brooke asked me to.” He smiled to soften the words. “Also, you’ve got edges. I like edges. You call him yet?”
They’d talked about this over the past couple of days. Tommy wanted her to fly out to Florida and meet up with Linc. Since she refused to do that, he thought she should call and actually talk to him—like, really talk.
“I don’t know where to start,” she’d said. “We’ve lost our way. We’re in a rut, everything is rote, ‘hi, bye, love you’ . . . They’re all just phrases we throw around without meaning. Has that ever happened to you?”
Tommy smiled. “Honey, the most common phrase in any of my relationships is usually ‘You sleep in the wet spot.’ Now stop stalling and call your man.”
She actually wanted to. She yearned to hear Linc’s voice and longed for the comfort that usually came with it. But she was feeling so raw and emotional, she knew she couldn’t. Not yet. She needed to be able to have a conversation without bursting into tears the second she heard him. “I’m working my way up to it.”
&n
bsp; Tommy pulled a bottle of wine from a bag. “Liquid courage.”
It was a Capriotti red, one of her favorite wines in the whole world, made at a local winery in Wildstone. She felt her eyes fill at Tommy’s kindness.
Tommy accepted her tears the way he accepted everything else about her, without blinking an eye. He handed her a box of tissues and opened the wine.
Half an hour later, the pizza was decimated and she was pleasantly buzzed from two full glasses. “Best diet food ever.”
“I said it was gluten-free. I didn’t say it was diet food.”
Mindy glanced at the empty pizza box. “Nutritional labels should really include a ‘what if I eat the whole damn thing’ section.”
“You’re stalling.” Tommy nudged her phone toward her.
She picked it up. “Maybe I should check on the kids again first.”
“Remember what Brooke said.”
Mindy blew out a breath. Earlier Brooke had said she’d text Mindy hourly updates if Mindy promised not to call and micromanage her anymore. If she couldn’t control herself, the deal was off, and Brooke would take off.
Not for a minute did Mindy believe this. Mindy might be the older of the two, and maybe she was also the one who, on the surface, looked to be the most responsible and accountable, but it actually wasn’t true. Mindy was the perennial people-pleaser, and she cared what people thought.
Brooke wasn’t and didn’t. And she didn’t break promises. Ever. Nope. She just walked away without looking back . . .
“Still stalling,” Tommy said.
“This is stressful.”
“You’re stressing when you don’t even know if there’s stress to stress about.”
“It’s a way of life.” But she hit Linc’s number. He’d texted earlier, a quick “miss and love you,” and she hadn’t responded yet. She did miss and love him. She also missed not being lonely.
He picked up on the third ring, right before she got sent to voice mail, and immediately Mindy’s back went up. “Did I catch you in the middle of something?” she asked.
“Nothing as important as this. Good to hear your voice, babe.”
The old Mindy, the want-to-be-the-perfect-wife Mindy, melted at that. But she shoved it aside because she was a new-and-improved Mindy. A cool-as-cucumber Mindy. “How’s it going there at the beach?”
“I wish I knew. Haven’t been out of the hotel. I just finished up a panel on analyzing and early detection of nondifferential diseases,” he said. “It’s fascinating.”
“I’m so glad. How are the people?” she asked, trying to steer to one “people” in particular—Dr. Sam. “You enjoying them, too?”
“Been too busy. How’re the kids? How’re you?”
“Tired.”
“Me, too,” he said. “Exhausted, actually. But the takeaways are so amazing.” He began to tell her about some new stitching technique and material, something to do with bone grafting, and she realized that this phone call was everything that was wrong with her marriage. They lived entirely separate lives. They got up early, went their own ways, and weren’t alone together again until late at night. And then they had only about five minutes of catching up while they were brushing their teeth before crashing into bed, claimed by exhaustion.
And she got it. Linc was brilliant, and he worked so hard. But so did she, and guilt and fear of losing him had kept her from telling him how she really felt.
Talk to him, Tommy mouthed.
“Linc . . .” She closed her eyes. “When I say I’m tired, I mean I’m really tired. As in, need-a-break tired.”
“From the kids?” he asked sympathetically. “They’re going to grow up, Min. It’ll get better, I promise.”
The thought of the kids growing up and leaving her brought a sharp pang of regret. She didn’t want to just survive these years. She wanted to live them.
“In the meantime,” he said, “take whatever time you need. You’ve got Brittney.”
Do I? Or do you have Brittney? she thought. And maybe also Dr. Sam . . . “I guess you probably need to get back to things.”
“I’d like to get to things with you,” he said playfully, and her eyes drifted shut as they always did when he spoke to her in that voice, the one that said he knew her like no one else did, the one that made her lose track of the bones in her knees. But she opened her eyes and locked her legs, because she owed him the truth. “I’m in LA, Linc. The kids are in Wildstone with Brooke.”
Linc didn’t say anything. All she could hear was static.
“Linc?”
“Mindy? Dammit, I think I lost her,” he said to someone. “The connection’s bad.”
“I’m here!” Mindy yelled. “Can you hear me? Did you hear what I said? I’m in LA and the kids are—”
“Babe, it’s a really bad connection. I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay? Screw the rule.”
She nodded like he could see her. “Yes, please,” she said, buoyed by Tommy’s insistent nod. “Because I think I’m burned out, Linc. Between keeping the smoothie shop going and the kids and the house . . . I mean, I know it was my idea to run the shop, and I’m the one who wanted to stay home and take care of our babies. I get it. I planned for all of it, carefully and purposefully, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard to admit that I’m sinking.” She drew in a deep breath. “But the truth is, it’s not at all what I thought it would be. I haven’t been all I wanted to be.” She shook her head. “And I’ve pushed people away. I lost track of you. And us. I mean, I don’t even know who I am anymore. It all feels like a facade, and I’m messing it up.” She hesitated. “I’m scared,” she admitted softly. “I’ve always played my role—daughter, sister, caretaker, mother. But the only thing I’ve never really done is be me.”
There.
She’d said it.
She’d laid it all out. She let out a breath and waited for a response.
Which didn’t come.
“Linc?” She looked at her phone.
Call failed.
Tommy took the phone from her limp fingers and pulled her up. “He’ll call you back. In the morning. Come on. We’ve got things to do.”
“Like jump off a cliff?”
“Are you kidding? You want to throw that fab body of yours away? What if reincarnation is real and in your next life you come back as a dog? Or a cat? Or worse, a man? You’ll have wasted it.”
She shrugged. “I’d be a good cat. I’m bitchy and I don’t like anyone.”
“Okay, there’s no pity parties on our agenda today,” he said firmly. “We’ve got too much to do for that.” He made a few phone calls and then drove her to some secret location that turned out to be a studio, where he had to flash a badge to the night watchman.
“Where are we?” she asked.
He glanced over at her as they walked inside a huge hangar where she could see everything from sets to set dressings to cameras, and more equipment than she had names for. “This is where your sister works,” he said.
Mindy stopped walking. “Brooke works outside—on adventure reality shows. On mountaintops and crazy raging rivers and hard-to-reach remote landscapes.”
Tommy stopped, too, and turned back to her, head cocked. “Baby doll, how long has it been since you asked your sister about her job?”
She blinked. “Uh . . . I don’t know? But I do know she’s a great photographer, and daring and adventurous as hell. I see her pics on Instagram sometimes.”
Tommy’s smile faded, and he looked like he felt sorry for her. “You shouldn’t rely on Instagram to get news on your sister. Social media’s nothing but smoke and mirrors. You see only what the people posting want you to see.”
She felt a ball of anxiety low in her gut, followed by a defensiveness she hated. “I know that. It’s just that I’ve been pretty busy, and—”
“I know.” He took her hand again, but he wasn’t smiling as easily as he had been before as he led her through a maze of hallways and sets and doors.
Mindy was chewing her lip, worrying. “But Brooke’s still an action photographer for your show, right?” she asked his back. God. What if Brooke had lost her job and had been too ashamed to tell anyone? What if Brooke’s life was in as much turmoil as her own? And what had she done? She’d let Brooke take on her crazy, chaotic life, without a single thought to what was going on with her sister.
Shame had her quiet as Tommy stopped and opened a door to two women, who introduced themselves as Tommy’s staffers. One was a massage therapist and the other a nail stylist. They’d re-created a day spa room, complete with soft music and snacks and more wine. Mindy got a massage, a mani-pedi, and some 411 on Brooke, including the fact that her current job was apparently nothing like Mindy had imagined, info she had to save to think about later or she’d fall apart even more.
Tommy did her hair. They changed her hair color and cut off her long braid. It felt so drastic, but when Tommy turned her to face the mirror a couple of hours later, she stared at herself in awe. Her hair had been long. Too long. Hanging nearly down to her elbows and usually pulled up on top of her head or braided. He’d cut it to her shoulders and given her some long layers in front that gave her face a frame. And the color. He’d given her both high- and lowlights, so her hair was now the color of a fawn in the sun, which was to say it was a million different colors, giving it depth and shine.
She hardly recognized herself.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Linc. She answered, breathless.
“Mindy,” he said with clear relief. “I finally got reception. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he said. “I tried to get out of here a few days early, but couldn’t since Ethan had to get home to work some things out.”
Of course he did . . .
“But I’ll be home in a few days, okay? Is there anything I can do from here to help?”
Her heart warmed a little bit. “You just did. Just by asking.”
“What were you trying to tell me before?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she lied, not wanting to repeat it all in front of her audience. Or ever . . .
