The Sweetheart Sham

by Danielle Ellison

  We’re waiting there at the bar side by side. Beau looks straight ahead, and I hear Lyla laughing behind me. I wonder what Will would say if I asked him to tell Beau the truth. He’s been supportive and helpful since he got to town. It kinda irks me that I’m keeping this from him. If he knew that we were only pretending, then things would be a whole lot easier.

  I look over my shoulder at Will. He should tell him, I think. Beau would be okay with it, and we’d be the Three Musketeers again, plotting and scheming together instead of keeping Beau in the dark.

  “What’s on your mind?” Beau asks.

  I blush a little. Even after all this time, he still knows me.

  “Thank you,” I say. Beau looks at me with those Montgomery baby blue eyes and they’re made even brighter against his black suit and dark hair. “For helping me out today and getting the guys. It was a great idea.”

  “No big deal.”

  “It was a big deal for Momma.”

  He gives me a smile. It’s enough to make a girl weak in the knees, if I was in the position to be that girl. “I’m glad I could help out. It was fun in a strange way that I hope I never have to do again.”

  “Welcome to the life of a Belle,” I say.

  Beau nods and hmms at me. “At least it’s always interesting.”

  “That’s for sure,” I say.

  We’re up next and Beau orders the pizza for us. I take the glasses from the clerk and head over to fill them up from the ice machine. Beau returns to the table with a giant pitcher of sweet tea, and I’m right behind him. I sit next to him and then Lyla jumps up.

  “Oh, you probably want to sit next to Will. Let me move!” She’s on the inside of the booth so Will has to get up to let her out.

  “It’s okay,” I start.

  “Stop. You’ve gotta sit by your man.” She smiles. I’m a little peeved that I’m annoyed about having to move, but for the sake of pretenses I plop down next to Will. He puts his arm around me while Beau pours everyone tea.

  It could be my imagination, but I’m pretty sure at one point Beau glances up at us and right as he does, Will kisses me really fast on the cheek.

  In another situation, it’s a nothing peck between friends.

  In this one, it’s the kiss of death—which I know because for the rest of the night, Beau doesn’t say a single word.

  That Summer—July

  Beau

  “What are we?” Georgia Ann asks me. We’re wrapped up in each other’s arms on the roof gazing at the stars. I’m really looking at her and enjoying her being wrapped up in my arms.

  We’ve spent the whole summer together, stealing kisses and hanging out, talking to each other. “Happy,” I say honestly.

  She leans up. “I’m serious.”

  She looks up and just having her eyes on me does something to me. This girl is amazing. I’ve known her my whole life, and every day she’s amazed me.

  “What are we? No one knows about us, not even Will.”

  This whole summer she’s been my secret. At first, neither of us wanted to say anything until we were sure. I was pretty sure since before I kissed her. But I’d agreed. I didn’t want the town or the family poking their noses into our business. I wanted to keep her to myself for the summer.

  “Well,” I say. “I know what I want us to be.”

  “Friends?” She looks at me expectantly.

  I shake my head. I want to call her my girlfriend and walk around town holding her hand. I want to kiss her when I want, where I want, and not have to hide. I hadn’t said that yet, and I felt a little nervous thinking about what she’d say.

  “I was hoping more than friends. If you want that, we can tell anyone you want to tell. We can shout it to the whole town if it means I get you.”

  Just like that, her whole face lights up. “Really?”

  I kiss her lips softly. “Yes. We can tell Will first.”

  “Do you think he’ll be happy about it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I hope so.” He should be. It’s been a hard secret to keep from our best friend.

  Georgia Ann smiles. “Will you dance with me now that you’re my boyfriend?”

  I chuckle. “I don’t dance.”

  “But the Sweetheart Dance is in two weeks. We can go together, make our debut as a couple.” She smiles.

  I sigh, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “You want to go to a dance?” Georgia Ann is not really a go-to-the-dance girl. She’s never been to a town dance unless she, I, and Will are making fun of how seriously people take it in this town.

  “With you, I do,” she says. “Plus, Momma insists I go, so if I’m going with you it’s even better.”

  I groan, and she sticks out her lower lip. I could never say no. “Whatever you want, Georgia Ann.”

  She kisses me quickly and the world is right.

  Chapter Ten

  Beau

  On Tuesday morning, Dad knocks on my door. He’s sweaty, probably back from his run. He’s not really made much effort since our failed attempt at bonding, so I’m not sure why he’s here now.

  “You want to get breakfast with me?” he asks. “I thought we’d go over to that pancake house in Haymont.”

  I haven’t thought of that place in years. Dad and I used to go sometimes, just the two of us, usually on the way to run some errand for Granddad.

  “Can’t. I’m meeting some of the guys for basketball.”

  “Next weekend then? We can go out and eat and then hit some hiking trails.”

  I shrug and head to the door. “Maybe.”

  Dad doesn’t move out of my way. He holds up a hand to me. “One second, son. How was basketball camp? You haven’t said much about it.”

  “It was great. Coach really knows his stuff, and I had fun. Thanks for working that out for me,” I say. I genuinely mean it. It was a great experience and fun to play. Their coach knows his stuff.

  Dad nods and smiles. I haven’t seen him smile since I got here. “No problem. I was glad to do it.”

  “Cool,” I say. “I’ve gotta go.”

  He steps out of my way and heads toward the pool house, where he lives. I hear Will in the kitchen so I stop at the door and yell, “You meeting us for basketball?”

  “Yeah,” Will calls back.

  “Okay, gonna go stuff my face at Jake’s first.”

  “I’m doing that here. Mom made pancakes,” Will yells with a mouthful of food. I chuckle and head out the door.

  Georgia Ann is leaning against the side of my truck when I step outside the house. I certainly can’t complain about the view. She looks good standing there in cowboy boots and a light pink sundress. Seriously, thank you God for the creation of that dress.

  “Good morning,” she says, stepping away from the truck. “We’ve got an appointment.”

  “I’m meeting Spencer and Chris for breakfast and basketball.”

  She shakes her head at me. “No can do. Text them on the way.”

  “On the way to where?”

  She smiles and tips up her sunglasses. “I can’t spoil all the fun. Give me the keys.”

  I laugh. “To my truck?”

  “Yeah. You don’t know where we’re going, so I have to be the one who drives.”

  “No one drives this truck but me.”

  She holds her hand out anyway. I stare her down. “No one drives this truck.” She doesn’t budge. Maybe it’s cause she’s so damn stubborn it’s cute. Maybe it’s the dress and the way it wants to change my last name and my morals, but I give her the keys.

  She smiles and heads toward the driver’s side. Damn that dress.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” I say as I get in. It’s weird as hell being a passenger in your own truck.

  “Never. Nothing but good times ahead, I promise.”

  Ten minutes later, I’m standing in nothing but my boxer briefs in a too-cold dressing room, while Mr. Taylor the tailor measures my inseam.

  “How’s it
going in there? Having fun yet?” she calls from the other side of the curtain.

  I have to snort. This is not better than pancakes, that’s for sure. “I’m going to pay you back for this.”

  “It’s not my fault you haven’t started your tux fittings. Only a month until the wedding, too. Momma about blew a gasket this morning that I, Groomsmen Commander, was not doing my job.”

  I can’t see her through the red curtain, but I know from the sound of her voice that she’s enjoying this. I wasn’t putting it off. I hadn’t thought about it. There’s been a lot going on.

  “I think I have just the one. I’ll be right back,” Mr. Taylor says.

  Georgie is crunching on something out there, and I’m hungry. Mr. Taylor takes about two steps per minute, so “right back” probably will be a little longer than expected. “What are you eating?”

  “Doritos.”

  “I want one.”

  “You’ll have to come get it,” she says and then laughs.

  I’m in my underwear. I know there’s at least one other customer out there. I don’t care right now—she interrupted my breakfast plans. I bust open the curtain. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and her face turning red. I like Georgia Ann with a blush. I like that I can still make her blush.

  She holds out the bag. I take the whole thing instead of just one. “Someone made me miss breakfast.”

  “We can get lunch when you’re done. My treat, since I never got to thank you properly for all your help with the bridal shower.”

  “You thanked me.”

  “Not properly. Not the Belle way.”

  “How long has that been going on? You helping out with your mom’s events.”

  Georgia Ann’s face darkens. “Ever since she got sick.”

  I can tell from her tone she doesn’t like to talk about this. I don’t want to make her, so I change the subject a little. “Do you like it?”

  “Planning things?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t really have a lot of time anymore to think about what I like or don’t like.”

  “You still want to go to London? When we were younger you always talked about going to see the city.”

  “Sometimes I’d settle for Atlanta. That’s why Charleston with Will has been nice.”

  Will. Right. Her boyfriend. Two times now they’ve gone on a date to Charleston.

  “I bet it is,” I say.

  The bell to the shop rings and a little old lady walks in. As soon as she sees me she gasps and shakes her head. I pass Georgia Ann back the chips. “I guess I’m being improper.”

  She blushes when she looks at me, almost like she forgot I was half naked. “Reckon so.”

  I go back inside my dressing room as Mr. Taylor appears around the corner with pants in hand.

  …

  I’ve been here three weeks and it’s the first chance I’ve had to really go exploring downtown Culler. There’s not much to talk about for some, but these five streets that make up downtown have a lot of memories. From the window of Lou’s Diner and Ice Cream Parlor, there’s the perfect view of the town square. The gazebo has been there since this town was founded. Mayor Dodd can tell you all about it if you ask him. Anyone who prides themselves on being from Culler should be able to.

  “You two want anything else?” the waitress asks. It’s not that Hannah lady from before with Dad, which is good.

  Georgia Ann and I both give her a look. We already put away some cheese fries, chicken tenders, chili dogs, and a meatball sub. “Milkshake of the day is peanut butter crunch.”

  “What’s the crunch?”

  She winks. “A surprise.”

  “I’ll take one,” I say, then add, “strawberry shortcake for her.”

  “You remembered.” Georgia Ann smiles.

  I nod. “When Lou introduced it, you had one every day for a week until your momma found out. You got sick during the July 4th camping trip. She banned you from milkshakes for the rest of the summer. You always let me and Will keep the change if we got them for you.”

  “I’m pretty sure Momma is the reason it’s only a summer shake.” She smiles and takes a sip of water. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “Of course I do. I was the one who got them for you the most. I was one rich ten-year-old that summer, and I used all your change that I saved to buy a remote-control plane.”

  “Because your granddad said you had to share with everyone until you bought your own.”

  “So I bought my own; that way Drew didn’t take it from us all the time.”

  She laughs. “I haven’t thought about that in forever.”

  “It’s all I think about,” I say, and I don’t mean the airplane. I mean her and me and us all being younger. I mean all things involving Georgia Ann.

  Her smile dims, and I’ve said the wrong thing. Before I can recover, the milkshakes arrive, along with the check. I reach for it and her hand lands on mine. It’s supposed to be a challenge, a race to see who gets the check first, but I want her to leave it there.

  “This is my treat,” she says.

  “I already told you that you don’t need to thank me.”

  “I want to.”

  “Then you’re welcome. Now let me get the check. It’s my duty as a Southern gentleman—”

  She snorts. “Don’t give me that bull. You be as much of a gentleman as you want, but I’m a feminist and I am paying for it.” I start to debate her but she adds, “Unless your manhood is threatened by a woman being able to pay.”

  I raise my hands in defeat. “No threat here. It’s hot. You win.”

  I didn’t mean to say it’s hot, even though it is. She is. She doesn’t comment on it, but the red tint to her cheek tells me she heard it. I may not be able to touch her or kiss her. I may not even flirt with her too much. I may not be able to look her way too long, but at least I can still make her blush.

  After, we walk beside each other along the old familiar sidewalk. There’s not one single stoplight in Culler. They had one once, near Lou’s from back before he served ice cream, but that’s long gone now. It caused more accidents than it stopped. The town square is full of little kids playing in some water hose sprinklers and parents sitting around reading. An old couple kisses in the gazebo. We pass a sign for a showing of “The Yearling,” which happens in the town square every summer.

  “They’re still watching the same movie.”

  “Not that much changes around here,” she says simply.

  “You going to go?”

  Georgie smiles. “Daddy would never miss it. He’s made a whole tradition out of it, you may remember.”

  I do. She’s right.

  Even from our corner of the town square, I can see the old window-front stores that line the street past Lou’s. The bookstore then the pet store with stuffed animal dogs in the window. Next to that is the toy store where these faded paper butterflies still hang, and the hardware store with old displays that are not for sale.

  “Remember when we went on a field trip to Harley’s Hardware in the second grade and he showed us how to copy keys?”

  She laughs. “They still do that. Poor kids.”

  “You in a hurry?” I ask. “I want to walk around and see everything. Maybe you can give me a tour.”

  “Not much to tour, but okay, yeah.”

  We cross the street toward the bakery, the smell of fresh bread wafting out into the street. I take a sip of my milkshake and the smells and sounds of home, of people on the streets, of kids yelling in the background, wash over me. Familiar and good, simple.

  We’re barely two steps more when Patty Baker waves at us. We stop and wait for her to be closer. She’s a nice woman, in her 50s maybe. She looks toward Georgia Ann. “Hi there, Georgie! How’s your momma feeling today?”

  “She’s doing great,” Georgia Ann says. “We’re busy getting ready for the Montgomery wedding.”

  “Oh, it is going to be some party! I know we’re excit
ed to come,” she says. “I’m even wearing my good dress and making Mr. Baker dance with me.”

  “You’re going to look beautiful, I’m sure,” Georgia Ann says. I watch her and her big smile, bright eyes. This is Georgia Ann in action, but unlike some people, she means it.

  Mrs. Baker gets an excited look on her face, her eyes widening. “Before we know it, they’ll probably be another one with you and Will.”

  I want to say something not as nice to her. We’re teenagers. No one is getting married anytime soon, but Georgia Ann beats me to it.

  “We’ll have to see about that one,” Georgia Ann says. She points to me. “You remember, Beau, don’t you, Mrs. Baker?”

  “Beau Montgomery, I heard you were here,” she says, wrapping me up into a big hug. She squeezes me so tight I can barely wrap my arms around her.

  “Yes, ma’am. Good to see you.”

  “You grew up handsome, didn’t you? Is your momma here with you?”

  “Not yet,” I say. “She’ll come for the wedding.”

  Talking about Ma reminds me that she’s waiting for an answer from me about her own wedding. She hasn’t pushed me too much when we talk, but I feel it there in the moments of silence. Ma’s waiting for me to say yes. Can I say yes?

  Mrs. Baker rests a hand on my arm. There is no such thing as personal space in Culler. “It will be so good to see her. You tell her to come by the house and say hello. It was a shame to hear about her and your daddy splitting up,” she adds. I can tell she’s fishing for more information, but I only smile.

  “Yes, ma’am, I will give her the message.”

  She nods quickly. “Well, we sure are glad you’re home. I better run off.”

  We tell her good-bye and then exchange a look. In Culler, “our family is yours” is more than the town slogan. It’s the way of life. Like it or not, you can’t do anything important, or unimportant, without someone knowing.

  I point across the street at Brown’s General Store. “We used to go in there every day on the way home from school and buy five-cent hard candy.”

  Georgia Ann smiles. “He still sells them for five cents.”

  “No way.”

  She nods. “His grandson runs the store now. Mr. Brown passed last Christmas.”