“What, is it a journal? Like a diary or something?” you ask, and her cheeks turn pink as she lowers her head. “Ha! It is, isn’t it? Have you written anything about me?”
You reach for the notebook, but she snatches it away. The pink on her cheeks is full-blown red now. “It’s not a diary. It’s a story.”
“A story,” you say. “What kind of story?”
“The kind you write,” she says. “Or, well, the kind I do. Because I am. I’m writing a story.”
She fumbles her way through that explanation.
You laugh. “Yeah, but what kind? Drama? Action? Mystery?”
“All of that,” she says. “It’s a bit of everything.”
“Does that include romance?”
She doesn’t answer, throwing a question back instead. “Why are you so interested?”
“Because I am,” you say. “Would you rather I just humored you?”
“No.”
She’s quick with that answer.
She’s blushing again.
There’s noise outside the library. Students roam the halls. Lunchtime is coming to an end.
You shove off of the table, getting to your feet. Looking around, you sigh deeply before your eyes meet hers. “You want to get out of here?”
Her brow furrows. “Get out of the library?”
“No, I mean get out of this hellhole,” you say. “My car’s parked outside, if you want to go.”
She gives you a look, one that says she thinks you’re joking, but once you pull a set of keys from your pocket, she realizes you're serious.
“Club meetings are starting,” you say. “It’s not like you’re missing anything. Besides, what’s life without a little adventure? Might give you some inspiration for your story. We'll call it a 'fuck your clubs' field trip.”
You walk away.
She hesitates, just a moment, before grabbing her things and following, falling in step beside you. Her eyes dart around the parking lot. “We won’t get in trouble, will we?”
“No promises,” you say.
Despite your answer, she doesn’t waver.
You drive a blue Porsche. It’s not as flashy as some of the other cars, but it’s enough to make her pause. “Wow.”
She’s fidgeting as she gets in the car.
You don’t waste time driving away.
You head into Albany, going through a drive-thru to grab some lunch. You buy her a sandwich and a chocolate milkshake, although she insists you don’t have to—she has no money. Food in hand, you head to a theater in town. You lead her inside, slipping through a back door.
People are everywhere.
A dress rehearsal is in progress. Looks are cast your way, a few people greeting you as they rush past. This isn’t your first time coming here. They’re confused, though, when they look at her, like her presence is something they can’t fathom. She hesitates, so you grab her hand and pull her through, letting go once you’re clear of the crowd.
She stares at her hand as the two of you take seats out in the empty theater. You eat and chat and watch the rehearsal. A Dr. Seuss musical. She sips her milkshake, laughing at the Cat in the Hat causing chaos on stage, and you get so lost in the moment that time slips away.
“We need to go,” you tell her. “It’s three o’clock.”
Even rushing, you barely make it back to the school before the day is over. You park your car, but you don’t get very far. An administrator is lurking. Hastings saw you leaving together and tattled.
“Cunningham. Garfield.” The man looks between you. “My office. Now.”
Twenty minutes later, the two of you are sitting in that office when both fathers show up. They walk in together, neither man smiling as the administrator explains the situation.
Your father says nothing. He just stands there, listening.
Her father, on the other hand, is fuming. His nostrils flare as he yells, “What the hell were you thinking? Skipping? Do you know what it costs me to send you here? And how many times do I have to tell you never to get in a car with a stranger? Are you crazy?”
She stares down at her hands, biting her cheek, not answering his questions.
Three days of detention. That’s the punishment.
You all walk out together.
It’s sudden, out of nowhere, as your father’s calm mask slips. Right in front of the school, he says not a word, but he swings, hitting you in the chest with a closed fist. It’s hard enough that the girl hears it from a few feet in front of you. Hard enough that her father hears it, too.
They both turn to look.
The blow knocks the air from your lungs. You fight to catch your breath, grabbing your chest, but you’re not surprised at all. This isn’t some fluke.
“Go straight home,” your father says, his voice calm, even as he gets right in your face. “I hope you know this isn’t over. We’ll deal with it later.”
With that, he walks away.
You linger a moment, your gaze drifting to her, before you leave.
You don’t know this, but that girl? She cries the entire way home from school. She isn’t crying because she got in trouble. It isn’t out of guilt or shame. Her tears have nothing to do with herself. She cries for you, because of the look she saw on your face when you walked away. There’s anger in your eyes again and tension in your jaw, and now she knows what that means.
Chapter 7
KENNEDY
“Surprise!”
I'm caught off guard as that word rings out behind me, startlingly close in the aisle. Spinning around, eyes wide, I nearly slam right into a lurking body, all six-foot-three of him wearing a straight black suit, looking the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. “Whoa.”
“Didn’t scare you, did I?” he asks. “You looked like you were in your own little world. Almost didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Oh, no, I’m just... surprised to see you,” I admit, gazing at him. Drew. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see you,” he says. “Haven’t heard from you since you cancelled our last date. I tried calling, but figured you were busy with work, so I thought I’d stop by, maybe buy you lunch.”
I frown. “I just took a break.”
“Pity,” he says. “Maybe dinner?”
“Maybe,” I say. “I’ll see if I can get somebody to watch Maddie.”
“Or you could bring her,” he suggests, holding his hands up defensively when I cut my eyes at him. “Or not.”
“I’m sure my dad won’t mind,” I say. “If he’s busy, I know Meghan will be happy to do it.”
“Meghan,” he says, making a face at the mention of her.
“Oh, don’t be that way.” I nudge him, laughing. “She’s been a life-saver. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“I do,” he says. “I know what I’d do without her.”
“Be nice.”
He mock salutes me.
Drew is, well… what can I say about him? He isn’t the easiest person to warm up to, but once you get to know him, he can be kind of charming. Sarcastic, a bit rash, but unshakably determined. We've been acquainted for years, but it wasn’t until recently, when I ran into him while out somewhere with Meghan, that I opened myself up to the possibility of anything happening between us.
It makes sense, you know. I’m busy. He’s busy. He’s one of the few people that I don’t feel compelled to hide my secrets from.
He hates my best friend, though, so that’s a big strike against him, and the feeling is mutual, but that might have something to do with the fact that Meghan’s as protective as bulletproof armor.
“I’ll call you,” I tell him, “as soon as I know.”
“Good.” Reaching over, he nudges my chin. “I’ll see you.”
I wait until he’s gone before pulling out my phone, shooting a text to Megan quickly, since I’m on the clock. Any chance you’re free to watch Maddie tonight so I can steal some adult time?
The bubble pops up, her response coming through
. I can be there by 6. Who’s the lucky prick?
Laughing, I type ‘Who do you think?’ before shoving my phone back in my pocket, not bothering to look at it when it vibrates with a message, knowing it’ll be a stream of disgruntled emojis with a few choice curse words thrown in—you know, for emphasis.
There’s a knock at the apartment door, but before I can answer it, the door flings right open and in waltzes Meghan. She’s nearly six feet tall in her shiny red stilettos, at odds with the drab gray dress suit she wears, like she’s not sure if she’s going to work or heading out to a party. That’s Meghan for you. Bright red lips and perfectly messy blonde hair, the kind that looks like she’s doesn’t care, but I know she spent an hour in the bathroom getting it that way.
Her blue eyes narrow, pointed right at me. She’s trying hard to look mad, but she doesn’t have it in her, cracking right away as she makes a face. “Really? Andrew?”
“Could be worse,” I say.
“Could also be better,” she counters. “Wouldn’t be hard, you know. Few people are worse than Andrew.”
Before I can argue, Maddie runs out of her bedroom. “Aunt Meghan!”
“Hey, candy-doodle pumpkin-bread,” she says, scooping Maddie up and swinging her around in circles as she slathers kisses all over her face. “How’s my favorite little munchkin doing today?”
Maddie giggles, trying to ward off the kisses. “Guess what, Aunt Meghan?”
“What?” she asks as she stops twirling, now swaying. Dizzy.
“Breezeo got in a accident, so I made him a card and Mommy says she got it to him!”
“Is that right?” Meghan asks, raising her eyebrows as she regards me, setting Maddie back down. “Mommy gave it to Breezeo, did she?”
“Yep.” Maddie turns to me. “Right, Mommy?”
“Right,” I say, giving her a smile, knowing I’m about to have to explain in a few seconds, so it’s best she gets out of here. “Why don’t you go draw Meghan a picture? I’m sure she’d love one. Wouldn’t want her getting jealous.”
After Maddie runs off, I head for the kitchen, Meghan tromping along behind me. “You gonna spill or do I have to call for a special prosecutor?”
“I think she summed it up nicely,” I say, scouring through the fridge and the cabinets, pulling out stuff to throw together a quick dinner. “She drew him a picture. I gave it to him.”
“How?”
I cut my eyes at her and continue what I’m doing.
“Son of a bitch,” she growls, dropping down into a chair at the kitchen table. “He showed up again, didn’t he? He actually had the balls to show his face.”
“He said he wanted to talk.”
“So you talked to him?”
“Yes.”
Meghan covers her face with her hands. “You’re right. It could be worse. Could be much worse, so go and enjoy your night. Because compared to that, Andrew is perfect.”
“I wouldn’t say all that,” I mumble.
She shakes her head, eyeing me warily as I preheat the oven. “What are you doing?”
“Throwing something together for dinner.”
“Why? Don’t you have a date?”
“Yeah, but Maddie hasn’t eaten yet, and Drew won’t be here for an hour, so…”
“So that gives you just enough time to get ready,” she says. “I can handle dinner, no big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she says. “Go put on something that’ll make him want to ravish you, you know, if you’re into all that. Gag.”
Laughing, I head to my bedroom to change, throwing on a pair of jeans and a pink blouse before taking it right back off. Ugh. I change three times before settling on a pair of black leggings and a purple tunic, heading back out to the kitchen to Meghan. “How’s this look?”
She casts a glance my way before saying, “Unless he’s taking you to Planet Fitness for some Pilates, it’s a no from me.”
Rolling my eyes, I head back to the bedroom to try again, putting on some flared khakis and a flowery flowing top.
The second that Meghan sees me, she makes a face. “Time-traveling to Woodstock?”
“Funny,” I mutter, going back to my bedroom yet again, putting on skinny jeans and a black top.
“Now you’re not even trying.” Meghan glares at me. “Don’t you have that dress still? You know, that black one with the lace?”
“This isn’t a big thing, Meghan. He’s taking me to dinner.”
“Yeah, well, if you wear the black dress, you might end up being dessert.”
I stare at her for a moment before shrugging. What the heck? Heading into the bedroom, I pull the dress out from the back of my closet, not giving it too much thought before yanking it on. I run my fingers through my hair, letting it do whatever it wants, and am in the bathroom putting on a bit of makeup when Maddie pops up in the doorway. “You look pretty, Mommy.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, gazing at her in the reflection of the mirror as she watches me, her expression curious. I pat the counter beside the sink, inviting her to join me, and she climbs up to sit on it as I grab a tube of lip-gloss, strawberry flavored. She puckers up, and I put some on her, smiling as I do it. “You know I love you, right, pretty girl? I love you more than everything. More than the trees and the birds and the sky. More than even pepperoni pizza and Harlequin novels.”
“What’s a Harley-Quinn novel?”
“Nothing you’ll need to know about for a long, long time,” I say, putting the lip-gloss away. “Just know that I don’t love them nearly as much as I love you.”
She kicks her feet, grinning. “I love you, too.”
“More than chocolate ice cream and Saturday mornings?”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “More than colors and money!”
“No way.”
“And the Yoo-Hoo drinks and Happy Meal toys.”
“Whoa.”
“And even more than Breezeo!”
Eyes wide, I look at her. That’s some serious commitment coming from my superhero-loving girl. “You know, you can love us the same.”
“Nuh-uh,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re my mommy, so I love you more.”
I press my pointer finger to the tip of her nose. “Well, I sure appreciate it, but remember that it’s okay if you ever do.”
Pulling her off the counter, I set her on her feet and glance at the time—five minutes until six. “I’ve gotta get going soon, sweetheart.”
“Can I come?”
“Not tonight,” I tell her, “but maybe next time. You get to hang out with Aunt Meghan instead.”
She pouts her lips, the sight of her expression making me want to call Drew and cancel, because screw doing anything that makes her look so disappointed. But she recovers, wrapping her arms around me in a hug before running off.
I make it out to the kitchen just as there’s a knock on the door. Seven o’clock on the dot. I’m still barefoot.
“Here,” Meghan says, kicking her shoes off in my direction. “Nothing says fuck me quite like red stilettos.”
I slip them on, almost tripping as I scurry to the door. I pull it open when he again starts to knock, coming face-to-face with Drew, still in that black suit from earlier.
“Hey,” I say, “you’re right on time.”
“Always am,” he says, offering me the faintest hint of a smile before he glances over my shoulder into the apartment. “Hello, Meghan. Nice to see you.”
Her voice is curt as she responds, “Andrew.”
“You ready?” he asks, looking back at me. “I thought we could try that new Mexican place in Poughkeepsie.”
“Chipotle?” Meghan calls out. “That place isn’t new, but I totally wouldn’t mind if you brought me back a burrito bowl.”
His face flickers with annoyance. “I’m referring to the restaurant on Main.”
“Ah, the one with all the margaritas,” she says with a laugh. “You know what they say about tequila…”
I shove Drew further outside, joining him, shouting goodbye to Meghan before she can say anything about getting naked. Drew starts to walk away, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I’m following.
“You want me to drive?” I offer.
He laughs at that. Yeah, he laughs. “I think I can handle it.”
Drew drives a brand new Audi, shiny black with pristine leather. Quiet indie rock plays from the speakers as he fills the silence, talking about work. He finished up an internship somewhere and was hired to… do something.
I don’t know. I’m not really listening.
Something to do with politics and the law.
It’s not that long of a drive across the river. The restaurant is busy, but we’re able to get a table without having to wait. Drew pulls out my chair, pushing it back in when I sit down, being a chivalrous gentleman. I laugh when I think about that.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, sitting down across from me.
“Just remembering how much of a jerk you were when we first met.”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“You never spoke to me.”
The waiter approaches, and I ask for water, while Drew orders a beer.
Once the waiter walks away, Drew says, “Pretty sure you didn’t speak to me, either.”
“Because you were a jerk.”
He laughs.
Then he starts talking again.
I do my best to pay attention, chiming in at all the right places. I know the conversation like the back of my hand. Politics.
It makes things easy, though, but Drew’s already easy. Things feel simple around him. Familiar. He’s easy, and he’s kind, and I keep thinking that he’s handsome, but beyond that, nothing.
No tingles. No butterflies. No goofy grins.
He doesn’t make me feel like I’m in a tailspin.
We eat.
Drew drinks.
I stick to water.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says after he pays the check, refusing my money when I offer to pay my share. Thank god, because I couldn’t afford it.
He takes my hand, and I let him. He leads me out to the parking lot, and I don’t put up a fight. But the moment he tries to get me in the car, I resist. I wouldn’t say he’s drunk, but he’s been drinking, and that’ll never be something I risk.
Ghosted Page 8
