How (Not) to Fall in Love

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  “Let me drive your car?” I ask. “I feel like going fast.” He grins and tosses me his keys.

  Mom texts me as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I send back.

  “I visited Dad before work,” she texts. “He sends his love.”

  Mom is the director of Sprites, a daycare center less than a mile from our new home. She got a small business loan to open the center. She tried every bank in town, refusing to take no for an answer. Eventually she got a yes.

  The truth about Dad and Harvest is out there now, on the web, in the papers, on the business news channels. So is the truth about J.J. Like Dad always said, no matter how deeply a seed is planted, it always finds the light of day. Eventually.

  Over the past few months, I’ve forgiven J.J. because I know he couldn’t imagine a different life than the one Harvest provided for him and his family. I know he was terrified Harvest wouldn’t survive if Dad told the truth. I also found an old show of Dad’s on YouTube, where he talked about forgiveness, and how it opens you up to possibilities you can’t even imagine.

  And in the end, J.J.’s still the guy who gave me the pink Barbie bike and taught me how to ride without training wheels. That’s the guy I want to remember.

  “Illness isn’t failure,” Mom said at the press conference she’d called after she’d returned from Wyoming and gotten Dad settled in a local facility. She’d been so brave facing those TV cameras and clamoring reporters. I’d been so proud of her as I’d stood next to her. When it was my turn to talk I’d taken my inspiration from her, and from Dad, speaking directly to the cameras, my voice clear and strong. “My dad made mistakes,” I said. “And he regrets them. But he never meant to hurt anyone. All he ever wanted was to inspire people to do more than they thought they could. To become who they were meant to be.”

  I’ll visit Dad later today and give him the heart stone. We’ll sit outside on a bench in the bright Colorado sun. He’ll listen while I tell him funny stories from my time at Liz’s, about the movies Lucas and I’ve seen, and the crazy costumes Sal wore in the Woodbridge spring play. I’ll tell him I’ve decided to turn down the scholarship opportunity that Woodbridge offered me. I’m going to do my senior year at Sky Ridge instead. I’ll drag Lucas to one last school dance, only I won’t puke in his car like the goddess. Since Mark is graduating this year, my only friend left at WA is Sal, and we’ll always see each other, no matter what. Friends for life.

  Charlie will visit Dad, too, bringing used books from his store and pastries from Liz. From what Charlie tells me, he and Dad have really long talks. Sometimes Dad cries, but he laughs, too. And Charlie says each visit brings them closer.

  Dad’s treatment time is almost up at the inpatient mental health facility, so he’ll be coming home soon. Mrs. Hamilton, his secretary from Harvest, insisted on setting up a desk and tiny office in the basement of our new house. She’s convinced the next chapter of Dad’s story will be a bestseller, if he’s willing to tell it. A lot of other people Dad knows have reached out to Mom, some of them famous, some of them not, but all of them expressing love and support for Dad, and us.

  We hear from trolls and haters, too, of course, but we ignore them.

  Lucas and I don’t say much as we drive down from the mountains. Toby snores from the backseat, exhausted from chasing rabbits. We listen to one of my favorite songs because the lyrics have propped me up for a long time now, lyrics about bending, not breaking. About the redemptive power of love.

  I don’t know what’s next for my family or me. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other, and sometimes that takes more courage than facing down the fiercest dragon. But I’m not afraid anymore, and I’m not alone.

  And in the end, that’s all that matters.

  Acknowledgments

  It’s true that it takes a village, and I love mine:

  My writing tribe: the Wild Writers critique group members (past and present) for their collective brilliance, laughter, and snacks! I couldn’t have done it without you. Special thanks to Julie Anne Peters, who invited me to join and cracked her metaphorical whip until I “finished the damn book.” I’m grateful for new friends from the Heart of Denver and Colorado Romance Writers RWA chapters, YARWA, and the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers.

  Entangled: Heather Howland for pulling this book from the slush pile and believing in the story. Liz Pelletier, my patient and encouraging editor and grand wizard of Entangled: because of you, this book is finally what it was meant to be. Heather Riccio, Debbie Suzuki, and Anita Orr: a million thank-you hugs for championing this book and answering all my questions. Thank you to Julia Knapman for laser-like copy edits.

  Nicole Resciniti, agent extraordinaire, for cheering me on with phone calls and emails full of exclamation points, and for being a ninja editor!

  My teachers: Kathy Scott for her shoebox of story ideas, Sally McCabe for “One, two, three. Breathe.” Nancy Fehrmann for introducing me to Robert Cormier as a “budding author” in high school.

  Finally, to my family: my book-loving parents who nurtured me as a writer, my extended “out-law” clan for love and support, my husband who always makes me laugh and whose support never wavers, and my son, who cringes over the kissing scenes, cheers me on anyway, and cooks me awesome dinners.

  Don’t miss Vivi Barnes’s funny and romantic Paper or Plastic, available now!

  Read on for a sneak peek…

  Paper or Plastic, by Vivi Barnes

  Welcome to SmartMart, where crime pays minimum wage…

  Busted. Alexis Dubois just got caught shoplifting a cheap tube of lipstick at the local SmartMart. She doesn’t know what’s worse—disappointing her overbearing beauty-pageant-obsessed mother for the zillionth time…or her punishment. Because Lex is forced to spend her summer working at the store, where the only things stranger than the staff are the customers.

  Now Lex is stuck in the bizarro world of big-box retail. Coupon cutters, jerk customers, and learning exactly what a “Code B” really is (ew). And for added awkwardness, her new supervisor is the totally cute—and adorably geeky—Noah Grayson. Trying to balance her out-of-control mother, her pitching position on the softball team, and her secret crush on the school geek makes for one crazy summer. But ultimately, could the worst job in the world be the best thing that ever happened to her?

  Chapter 1

  It was just a cheap tube of lipstick in a shade I would never wear, if I wore lipstick at all.

  Which I didn’t.

  So I couldn’t believe I was sitting here, staring at the frosted square of glass in the door, holding my breath every time a shadow moved past.

  Court shifted slightly, but her expression was bored. Her mom had already appeared, popping her head in for a few seconds to click her tongue and say, “Courtney Ann,” in that slightly disappointed way that made me wish I were going home with her instead of my own mother.

  Why did I do it? All I knew was that Mom’s pinched expression this morning as she looked from my superstar sister, Rory, to me, the meh daughter, had been fixed in my mind. Her words, Why can’t you be more like your sister, were familiar enough by now. Then she had to add in the fact that I was throwing away my future on some ridiculous pipe dream when I could be so much more. And all because I asked to go to Space Coast Fastpitch Softball Camp at the end of summer instead of joining her boring League of Southern Women group. I remember my sole thought as I slipped the lipstick into my pocket: Take that, Mom.

  Still. The first really wrong thing I did in my entire life, and I got caught.

  The annoying ticks of the wall clock reminded me that we had been sitting here for an hour. I wanted to take the stapler off the desk and throw it at the clock as hard as I could.

  “What’s taking so long?” I asked Court, who was busy with her phone. Probably texting Bryce, her long-time boyfriend and one of my best friends. If it wasn’t for Bryce, I don’t know if I would’ve bec
ome friends with Court. She liked to live on the edge, way outside my comfort zone. I didn’t even like shopping—that was her thing.

  I wished Syd were here. As my softball teammate and forever best friend, Syd would be a whole lot better at commiserating. She’d know what to say to make me laugh instead of staring at her phone the whole time.

  “I don’t know,” Court finally said. “I guess they’re waiting for the cops.”

  My heart sank to my shoes. Cops? “But it was just a couple of lipsticks.”

  She shrugged and kept texting. How could she look so calm right now? Was it too much to hope that the store manager would talk to our parents and leave the police out of it?

  “What do you think is going to happen to us?” I asked for the third time, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

  She sighed and looked up at me. “Seriously, Lex, stop worrying. It’s not like they’ll arrest us. We’re only sixteen. Minors.” She stuck out her tongue at the door. “My brother got in trouble for drinking vodka at a party when he was seventeen and got off with just a warning. We’ll be okay.”

  I nodded, but that didn’t make me feel better. Drinking vodka didn’t exactly match up to outright theft.

  The door handle turned, and both Court and I jumped to our feet. Ha! I wanted to say. You’re not so cool about this after all.

  The security guard stuck his head in. “Courtney?” He motioned to her. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and moved forward through the door, flipping her black curls and looking back to wink at me. Before the door closed, I could see her mother shaking her head. My throat clenched as I remembered my mother would be here any moment, and she’d be doing a whole lot more than just shaking her head. I wished my dad would show up instead, but I knew he was working.

  Fifteen minutes later, Court still hadn’t reappeared. My stomach churned and my throat was dry. I wondered if it would be okay to ask for water. Most of all, I wondered what happened to Court. Had she been arrested after all? If so, wouldn’t they have taken me, too?

  It was wrong.

  It was wrong.

  It was wrong.

  If I repeated it enough times like a mantra, maybe I’d get out of this.

  I’m an idiot.

  I’m an idiot.

  I’m an idiot.

  Maybe they were using this as a scare tactic. Some kind of “freak the kid out so she’ll never do this again” trick.

  It was working.

  The handle turned, breaking my thoughts, but instead of jumping up, I pressed my back against the wall. The perfumed air reached my nose even before the giant nest of blond hair breached the gap in the door.

  Besides the heavy scent of gardenias that floated about her, the first thing anyone would notice about my mother was that she loomed above practically everyone. She could’ve been mistaken for a women’s basketball player, except for the face so heavily made up that it was a wonder the foundation didn’t slide off her face. I’d rarely seen her without makeup myself. I doubt my father ever had, either.

  The balding, pudgy store manager who followed seemed in awe of her. Or maybe he was just afraid.

  “Alexis Jasmine Dubois!”

  I cringed. I hated when she said my full name, especially in front of others. It always sounded like a bunch of crappy princess names thrown together. And it was a constant reminder of what she had expected me to be and what I most definitely was not.

  She glared at me before turning her sweetest pageant smile on the store manager. “I don’t know where she gets these crazy ideas. I’m sure it’s all on her father’s side. But we really appreciate the opportunity you’re giving her, Mr. Hanson.”

  Opportunity?

  Mr. Hanson blinked. “Oh, of course, Mrs. Dubois. I’m only too happy to extend a second chance to Alexis. My own son got in trouble when he was sixteen, so I know how having a record can damage a person’s future.”

  Wait, what?

  My mother nodded, still smiling, though it had an edge as she glanced at me. I knew she was going to let me have it later, but I almost didn’t care. I wasn’t going to get arrested. He was just letting me go. The “Hallelujah” song was reverberating in my head, and I felt like hugging him.

  As my mother and Mr. Hanson talked, all I could focus on was the fact that no sheriff was being called in and no handcuffs were being snapped around my wrists. I was happily oblivious to their conversation.

  Until a few words yanked me back to reality.

  “Just bring her in Monday morning for the paperwork and uniform shirt, and we’ll be good to go,” Mr. Hanson said, smiling at me.

  The happiness I felt inside whooshed out of me as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I stared at him. “Um, what?”

  “Mr. Hanson understands that you were acting like a stupid teenager,” my mother said. “He has kindly agreed to allow you to work your summer here at SmartMart. In return, you’ll get to keep the incident off your record, not to mention a paycheck. That’ll be a change.”

  “But I’m already working this summer. Remember Let’s Have a Ball? And I’m supposed to go to softball camp in August, too.”

  My mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. She definitely remembered, and I could see she cared about it as little as if I had said I was going to get a drink of water.

  I turned to Mr. Hanson before she could answer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hanson. I really appreciate the opportunity, but I already have plans this summer.”

  My mother took my hand in one of hers in what would look like a loving gesture if she weren’t digging her fingernails into my skin. I tried to pull away, but she had a grip of steel. “Don’t be silly, Alexis. You have plenty of time before your camp, and you don’t make money playing ball with little kids.” She laughed lightly. She seemed to have missed the point of volunteering. “SmartMart is offering an excellent opportunity here, and I think you need to take it.”

  “But—”

  “Mr. Hanson,” my mother said without lifting her eyes from me. “Would you give me just a moment alone with my daughter?”

  No, don’t leave me with Crazy! I wanted to shout. But I just watched, helpless in her grip, as the store manager nodded and bowed out, giving me a sympathetic look before shutting the door behind him.

  As soon as the latch clicked, my mother’s pretense at charm and grace dropped. “I’m going to say this once, Alexis. If you don’t accept this man’s offer, you’ll end up with shoplifting on your record that will follow you around the rest of your life. And think about what everyone will say about my parenting skills.”

  “This has nothing to do with you—” I started, but she pulled me closer. I got a strong whiff of her perfume and tried not to choke.

  “This has everything to do with me, not to mention your sister. Can you imagine if this followed us through the circuit? I’d be criticized for being one of those mothers who can’t control her kids, and Aurora’s career would be over.”

  Aurora’s career? It was true that my mother loved pageant life more than anything else—her claim to fame was being runner-up in the Miss Florida pageant when she was young. Pictures of her glory days hung in pride on our wall, and we endured story after story about how she should have won, and how the judges just felt sorry for the girl who actually won because of her poor background. She had even tried getting me involved in pageants when I was too young to know better, except I hated every single moment of it and finally refused to do it anymore. So yes, I knew she took the whole pageant thing seriously. But a seven-year-old’s career? I knew better than to roll my eyes, but in my defense, they kind of moved on their own.

  They could’ve at least waited until my mother’s back was turned.

  Her lips pressed together in a cold line. “Control yourself,” she hissed. “Now, you are going to take this job and be glad about it. And if you don’t, you can spend your entire high school career taking the bus instead of that car you want so badly, got
it?”

  She had me now. I needed that car, and my mother knew it. “Wait a second, that’s not fair. I’ve been saving up—”

  “Not even enough to fund the tires,” she finished. “You’re expecting us to foot the rest. Which we won’t do if you don’t get serious and take this job. And by the way, your camp is at the end of summer, so if we agree that you can go, it shouldn’t interfere.”

  “But Let’s Have a Ball camp—”

  “You put in what, five or six unpaid hours a week there?”

  “Eight,” I mumbled. It would be more if I had a car to drive myself, but I didn’t want to go there.

  “Exactly. Plenty of time left for a real job.”

  “Dad won’t—”

  “Your father will agree with me. You have your choice. Take it or leave it.”

  Some choice. I knew I would have to do what she said. The car and my softball camp were the only things she could really hold over my head. “Fine,” I whispered.

  She turned on a heel and opened the door. “Mr. Hanson?” Her voice sounded musical again.

  He entered the room, his face politely inquisitive.

  “She’ll be delighted to accept the position.”

  Hanson clapped his pudgy hands together. “Wonderful! Welcome to the team, Alexis.”

  I reached out to shake his extended hand, trying to smile. I sucked at acting. My eyes dropped to the floor while he and my mother chatted.

  SmartMart—Where Everybody Farts. That’s what everyone called this place ever since some guy posted a People of SmartMart video on YouTube. It was a contest for whoever could take the funniest video or picture with their cell phone and post it on his blog. I sent in two—one of a woman walking around with a dressed-up dog in a stroller and another of an employee talking animatedly to herself. I didn’t win, but the one that did showed a guy bending to pick up something and farting really loudly. The woman’s puckered face behind him was priceless.

  I felt sick to my stomach as my mother and I left the store. The fact that I wasn’t going to jail should’ve made me feel relieved, but at the moment, all I could do was feel sorry for the situation I’d gotten myself into.