I don’t answer, because I’m not about to tell my ten-year-old son that his mother didn’t want him. That she thought her freedom and the need to travel was more important. I’m being harsh, but it’s still raw that I didn’t have to fight for the kids at all. In her own words, she’d spent the last six years raising two kids on her own, and now it was my turn.
“Look,” I sigh. “How about we go get some ice cream and then we can stop in and see Grandpa on the way home. Would you like that?”
My jaw tightens. I know I’m just trading one battle for another, but when I see a hint of a smile, it’s worth it. The smile disappears as quickly as it appeared, but it was there. He nods abruptly and stands up, slouching forward so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with me.
“Fine. I’ll go get Sadie,” he mumbles.
As he walks past me, I reach out to ruffle his hair, but he flinches, ducking out of my reach. Way to make me feel worse. My own son can’t even handle me touching him.
It’s a nice afternoon out, so I decide to walk the short distance to the ice cream shop. Mason walks silently beside me, lost in his own thoughts, while Sadie skips ahead of us, oblivious to the tension between her brother and me.
I glance at Mason, wanting to say something, only I don’t know what. I just wish there were some way to get through to him. I know I have a lot to make up for, and it would serve me right if he never gave me that chance, but that’s what this whole move was about. Making up for the wrong I’ve done, the bad decisions I’ve made that led me to where I am today. I regret so much of the last two years, and I’m doing my best to fix it.
“What’s your poison?” I ask Mason as we reach the popular ice cream spot. He shrugs and examines the choices through the glass cabinet as the server waits patiently for us to order.
“Chocolate, I guess,” he mumbles. “No, wait a second, maybe the peanut butter twist.”
“And you?” I ask Sadie, even though I already know her answer.
“Strawberry, silly,” she giggles, smiling a big toothy grin at me. She grabs hold of my hand and dances on the spot, making me chuckle.
I love this. I love being able to finish work at four and take my kids up the street for ice cream. The old me rarely stumbled through the door before midnight, and then I was gone before the kids got up.
“I’ll have a single strawberry cone, and two double scoop chocolate and peanut butter twists,” I order. I glance at Mason and give him a wink.
My heart soars as he smiles at me. A real smile, and one that’s there for more than half a second. I hand the kids their ice creams and swoop a giggling Sadie into my arms, smothering her with kisses as she squeals with laughter.
“Let’s go over to the beach to eat these before they melt,” I suggest.
“Are we still going to see Grandpa?” Mason asks. His tone is almost accusing, like he’s expecting me to say no.
Shit. I’d forgotten about my little bargaining tool. I nod, my jaw tensing at the thought of seeing him. My father. The one person who resents me more than Mason does.
Three
Nina
“Hey, Miss. We’re here.”
I open my eyes and glance around, confused. An elderly man crouches over me, a kind expression on his face. We’re the only two left on the bus, apart from the lady who I assume is his wife, waiting by the front, craning her neck to watch us.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my eyes still adjusting to the light.
He nods and flashes me another smile and then walks away, hobbling off the bus with the aid of his wife. I sit up and try to gather my thoughts. Outside, the morning sun is breaking through the clouds, signaling the beginning of a new day. A fresh start. Wow. I’m really here.
I’ve never heard of St. Simons when Michael told me about it. I wonder how he knew about this place? I stand up and stretch, and then reach down on the floor for my bag. Shit. It’s not there. Panicked, I search around me, eventually spotting it halfway down the aisle, upturned, with the few contents I have spilling out.
Crouching down to scoop it up, my heart pounds as I search inside. As my hand closes around the envelope, I already know it’s empty. I open it anyway, then crush it into a tiny ball in my hand.
“Shit,” I curse.
I hold back tears. That money was all I had. It was supposed to last me until Michael got here. How am I going to survive now? I feel sick. I quickly get off the bus and lean over a nearby bush, dry retching. Nothing comes up other than air because I haven’t eaten properly in days. I’ve been too nervous that everything was going to go wrong, and now here I was, living out my worst nightmare.
I let out a laugh. I’ve barely lasted a day and I feel like I’m ready to crack. Maybe I should just suck it up and go home. Live the life I was destined to live. No. You’re not giving up. Not without a fight.
Straightening myself up, I look around me, determined to figure out a solution. I can do this. I just need to think. I spy a pawn shop on the other side of the street. I can sell something. My hand instinctively moves to the ring hanging around my neck, the only thing I have of any value. I can’t do that. There is no way. But what choice do I have? With no money and no way of contacting Michael, this is my only option.
I take a deep breath and walk across the road. It’s barely nine in the morning, and while the traffic is sparse, there are a lot of people out walking around. I lower my head and ignore the curious looks I’m getting from everyone I pass. I get the feeling that this is a place where everyone knows everyone. Not the best choice for blending into the crowd.
The bell above the door rings as I enter the shop, startling me enough to make me jump. A man looks up from his newspaper and smiles at me over his thin, wire-rimmed glasses. I reach up to my neck and unclasp the necklace to free the ring. Grasping it in my hand, I walk over to the counter and place it down on the glass surface, my fingers still clutching it like I’m not ready to let it go.
“How much can I get for this?”
My voice wobbles, but if he notices, he doesn’t let on. He picks it up and looks it over, and then looks at me through narrowed eyes. I flush and look down. Does he know how much this means to me? My heart pounds as I wait for him to answer. It doesn’t matter what price he gives me, because I need the money. If he offered me only a few hundred, I’d take it.
“Real diamonds,” he murmurs, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes,” I say, swallowing past the lump in my throat. As if my father would’ve gotten her anything other than the best.
“You’re sure it’s not stolen?”
“Of course it’s not,” I say, shocked that he’d even suggest that.
“Sorry, I always have to ask.” He sighs as studies the ring again. “I’ll give you five hundred.” My eyes widen. Is he serious? The ring would have to be worth thousands. “I’m sorry. It’s a small town, and I need to make a profit too.”
I nod. He’s right. What did I expect from a pawn shop?
“Okay,” I say. I hold onto the ring until he places the last fifty-dollar bill into the pile, then with shaking hands, I push it over and claim my money.
“Are you new in the area?” he asks kindly.
“I’ll be here for a while,” I say.
“If you’re looking for somewhere to stay, go and see Colleen over at the Inn on Fourth. Tell her I sent you. Tony. The rooms are basic, but they’re cheap and clean. Most of the other places in town are probably out of your price range.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. I pocket my cash and quickly walk out, only letting myself breakdown once I’ve made it around the corner.
I lean against the brick wall and slide down until I’m crouched against the floor, my legs tucked up under me. What have I done? It takes all my resolve not to run back in there and beg for my ring back. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom. Tears prick my eyes, but I hold them back, willing myself to be strong.
Five minutes later I’ve regained my composure, and I’m walking down Fourth in search of the
inn. I eventually find it. I wander up the steps and walk into the reception. It’s empty, except for a small bell that sits on the desk, next to a sign requesting it be rung if needed. I reach over and give it a little shake, and then stand back and wait.
“Can I help you?”
A friendly looking woman enters through the back. Her smile instantly relaxes me, and I can’t help but smile back. Her kind brown eyes are framed with wrinkles, making her look older than I suspect she really is.
“Hi. I’m looking for somewhere to stay, and the man at the pawn shop—Jimmy—said you might have a room,” I say. “I have money,” I add quickly, realizing that sounded like I was after a free ride. I’m many things, but a freeloader definitely isn’t one of them.
“How long were you wanting to stay?” she asks.
“A week or so, maybe longer.” I’m not sure what the plan is when Michael gets here. I assume we’ll get a place, but who knows how long that will take.
“Sure, I’ll put you in twenty-two. It has the nicest view of the water.” She nods for me to follow her. “You’re new in the area?”
“I get the feeling that new people stand out around here.” I grin.
“They do,” she chuckles. “We’re a tight community, but we look after each other. I’m sure you’ll like it here…”
“Amanda,” I supply, saying my new name to someone other than myself, for the first time.
“Nice to meet you, Amanda, and here we are.” She swings open the door to room twenty-two. “Get yourself settled, and then when you’re ready, come down and we’ll work out finances.”
“Thanks, Colleen.”
I wait until she’s left before I walk inside, closing the door firmly behind me. Well, he wasn’t kidding when he said it was basic. The small wooden bed is the highlight of the tiny room. It’s clean, and it’s a roof over my head. It’s just less luxury than I’m used to. Stop being such a princess. You left your extravagant lifestyle back in Chicago, along with your future husband, remember? I breathe in, trying to identify the musty smell as I walk across the worn carpet to the small window and yank it open.
Sitting down on the bed, I sigh and think about my options. Five hundred dollars isn’t going to go far. I’m going to need to get a job, and fast. It should be my first priority, but as I yawn and fall back onto the stiff mattress, all I can think about is how tired I am. I run my hand over the prickly sheets and frown. It’s a far cry from my king-sized bed and thousand thread count sheets back home, but right now, I don’t care. I close my eyes, just for a moment, giving in to the call of sleep. A fifteen-minute power nap, and then I’ll go out and find a job.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, I gasp, trying to work out where the hell I am. I don’t even have a phone to check the time, but after a quick survey of the room, I find an alarm clock. I groan. If that thing is right, I slept half the day away. So much for getting a jump on my job hunting.
I have a quick shower and change into one of my few sets of clothes, and then set off in search of a library. I find it right opposite where I’m staying.
It’s just after two in the afternoon, and I’ve got twenty minutes until the library closes. Sitting down at a vacant computer, I stare at the blank screen. God, I’ve never even seen a resume, let alone written one. I’ve never even worked a day in my life. What the hell am I supposed to write down? This is going to be the world’s shortest resume ever.
I turn to Google in search of a template, and when I find one that is simple and to the point, I add my details to it. I smash through describing my skills and attributes, because I can relate parts of my schooling and life experience to that, but I’m still stuck when it comes to real work experience.
What am I supposed to write when I don’t have any? Make it up. My heart races. Can I really do that? What if they check? It’s waitressing. You’re not applying for a position at a law firm. I continue arguing back and forth with my subconscious, until the desperate side of me wins, and I type out three fictitious past employers, all singing my praises. Before I can change my mind, I hit print and close down my session, remembering to log out first.
Please don’t backfire on me.
I can almost hear Michael’s scornful voice. Getting caught out as a liar in a small town is certainly not keeping a low profile.
I rush toward the exit of the library as if I’m half expecting someone to tackle me to the ground and accuse me of fabricating employment. Out of nowhere, a little girl crashes into me, sending my perfectly stacked resumes flying everywhere. She falls back onto the floor, laughing hysterically.
“Are you okay?” I gasp, helping her to her feet.
“That was so much fun,” she giggles. “Can we do it again? You go over there, and I’ll go that way.” I smile, her cheeky enthusiasm infectious. Her two little blonde pigtails bounce furiously on top of her head.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I laugh. “Imagine all the books that would get hurt.”
Her face brightens. “I’m allowed to pick out three books,” she announces excitedly. “Wanna help me choose? What do you like to read?”
“Oh, I—”
“Sadie, leave the poor woman alone.”
I look up at the owner of the deep, sexy voice and blush. He grins at me, his vibrant blue eyes locked on mine. I take in his short brown hair and lopsided grin, my heart racing. Although he’s clearly older than me by at least a few years, I can’t deny how attractive he is. He grabs the little girl and hugs her, while she giggles and tries to free herself from his grasp.
“Sorry about Sadie. She can be a bit overzealous and enthusiastic at times,” he murmurs, eyeing me curiously.
I smile at her, just to take my attention away from him. “Sadie is a beautiful name,” I say.
“Thank you,” she giggles. “What’s your name?”
“Amanda,” I murmur, my cheeks heating.
“You’re pretty.” She giggles again and looks up at her father with all the innocence of a child. “Don’t you think she’s pretty, Daddy?” He chuckles, an amused smirk spreading across his lips while I stand there, mortified.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I blurt out as he opens his mouth to respond. He raises his eyebrows and I cringe, my heart racing. Could I make this feel anymore awkward?
“Okay,” he murmurs with a shrug, as if he senses how uncomfortable this whole exchange is making me. What would he have said? Would he have agreed with his daughter that I’m pretty? I flush and look away.
“I have to go,” I mumble.
I gather up the last of my resumes and make a beeline for the exit, not stopping until I’m safely past the parking lot. I walk across the road and take a shortcut up at the side street, just in case they decide to follow me. Finally, I feel safe enough to stop and catch my breath. I walk into a nearby park and sit down under a huge tree. My heart is still racing out of control, and I hate it.
I just wish I knew how to act.
I want to relax and enjoy being here, but at the same time, I know I need to keep my guard up. Michael was paranoid about my father having eyes everywhere, and while I know what he’s like, I think even my father has his limits. As much as he might want to, he can’t be everywhere. He has no idea where I am. Surely me having simple conversations with people isn’t going to be any harm?
Just don’t let yourself get too close. Because that’s when you let your guard up and risk letting something slip. Maybe it is easier just keeping everyone at a distance.
I look down at my resume and frown. And then there’s this. I’m already pretending to be someone else, so is there any harm in lying? It’s not that farfetched that my alter ego might be an experienced waitress. I mean, she has to have some backstory. Besides, how hard can it be to take orders and deliver food? Surely even I can manage that?
My lack of work experience was definitely not my choice. I argued with my father all the time through my teenage years to be allowed a part-time job, but he wanted me t
o focus on my schooling. When I finished school, he wanted me to focus on college. I thought about getting a job anyway, but that would’ve meant finding some way to lose my bodyguard and then trust that it still wouldn’t get back to my father. He said the bodyguard was for my own protection, but I often wondered if it were more about him keeping control over me. He doesn’t have control over me now. I’m my own woman and I can do what I want, and that includes getting a job. I laugh. I can’t believe I’m excited about the prospect of working.
I get to my feet and brush myself off, then with a new sense of determination I start walking toward the nearest restaurant. I walk through the doors, my head held high, trying to at least act like I have confidence. If this one doesn’t have work, then the next one will. I march up to the counter and place my resume down in front of me, waiting patiently for the waitress to finish serving customers.
“Hi,” I say, “I’m just wondering if the owner is here?”
“That would be me.” She eyes me suspiciously. “What are you selling?”
“Myself,” I say with a grin. My heart pounds, but I force myself to continue before I lose my nerve. “I’m new in town and looking for work. I have experience waiting tables. I’m a hard worker and am willing to do anything if you give me a chance.”
“You should watch who you say that to.” She grins and puts out a hand. “I’m Lily. It’s nice to meet you, especially so because I had a waitress leave on me yesterday. I have a full house tonight, and I was just stressing on how I was going to cope.” She shrugs and gives me a smile. “If you’re interested in a trial run starting tonight, then I’m willing to give you a shot.”
“Really? That would be amazing.” I can’t wipe the grin off my face even though inside I’m nervous as hell. A full house. I glance around. Holy shit, this place must seat about a hundred people. How the hell am I going to bluff my way through that? Five minutes in, and she will totally know I have no experience.
Claiming Nina Page 2
