The Heartbreak Cure

by Ashby, Amanda

  “I see.” Her mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else. Which was good because, even though they were just friends, Cat wasn’t sure she could explain just how much she was enjoying his company.

  Chapter Seven

  “Any reason I’ve not met your new girlfriend yet?” Birdie didn’t bother to look up from her cards on Friday night. He didn’t need to see her face to know her blue eyes—almost as bright as her hair—were twinkling. He groaned and threw in his hand. His grandmother was a card shark in every sense of the word. Not that he was surprised. Birdie had a way of finding out everything.

  “How long have you known?” He stood up and walked to the small kitchen in the hopes of preventing his mind from drifting back to last night.

  “Five days. I thought I’d give you time to explore your new love. I always liked Cat.”

  “Such restraint.” Heat rose in his chest as he busied himself making the tea his grandmother preferred. He’d lied to Birdie enough times over the years, one more probably wasn’t going to make a difference.

  Even if he wasn’t quite sure what the lie was.

  Cat and I are faking it?

  I wish we weren’t?

  That last night I almost crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

  He measured the loose tea leaves into a plain black ceramic teapot. When he was younger, he used to watch her doing the same thing. Weathered hands, strong, with no signs of the arthritis to come. She’d hum as she shook the leaves into her own mother’s teapot. It was delicate, the color of eggshells, trimmed with gold with tiny birds painted all over it.

  Then one day it was gone.

  It wasn’t until he was older he discovered his mom had stolen it for drug money.

  There had been many other things she’d taken over the years. Vases, jewelry, paintings. All of his grandmother’s dearest possessions.

  But mostly he remembered the teapot.

  He carried the tray back through and carefully poured the tea through the strainer and into her cup, like liquid amber. The ritual gave him comfort as he stirred in the milk—three times—then carefully placed the cup and saucer in front of her.

  “And I’m only giving you a cookie to stop you beating me too badly in the next game,” he warned as he passed over one of the macaroons he’d brought with him. Despite making Cat heartbreak brownies, her arthritis stopped her baking as much as she once did.

  “The advantage of being my age is I can have as many cookies as I want.”

  “Not according to your doctor,” Alex corrected.

  “Pah, what does he know?” Birdie said before she held up her hand, knuckles gnarled like an apple tree. “But I know when to pick my battles. So, tell me about school. Any scholarship news?”

  “Too early yet.” He shook his head, refusing to think about the rejections crammed into his glove box. Without a scholarship, he wouldn’t be going anywhere, and despite Cat’s excitement about the Summerset Trust application they’d worked on, he wasn’t hopeful.

  None of which he planned to tell his grandmother. It was her dream as much as his that he leave—to see the world, to make something of himself. And she’d had enough disappointments in her life without having to go through one more.

  There had been money once. Enough for a college fund. Enough for Birdie to live in the house she’d gone to as a young bride. But now she was in a tiny apartment that mirrored every other apartment in the assisted living village. Beige walls, carpet the color of mud, and nondescript kitchen and bathroom units. And even though Birdie had instructed him to hang her favorite paintings on the wall, it didn’t change the one-size-fits-all feel.

  His mother’s crippling addiction had stripped away those futures. And while Alex had accepted his fate and what he had to do to get there, talking about it was pointless. Why remind Birdie of just how much she’d lost?

  It didn’t change the fact his mom continued to hurt her from beyond the grave.

  Enough.

  “I know you worry, but you’re not like her, Alex. You never have been,” Birdie said, the words shattering his mind.

  He sucked in his breath.

  The reason he took care of what he ate. The reason he didn’t go to keggers or bonfires or what the hell else everyone seemed to do. It was all to prove to the world he was nothing like his parents.

  Even if it isn’t true.

  Not that he could ever tell his grandmother that.

  His mom—Birdie’s only daughter—had given her enough pain for one lifetime. He wasn’t about to add to it. His secret shame was also a reminder of why things could never go any further with Cat. No matter how much he wanted them to.

  “Does that mean she couldn’t beat you in gin rummy, either?” he asked in a light voice as he picked up his teacup. It rattled in his hand. If Birdie noticed, she didn’t give any indication. Instead, she just gave him another smile.

  “No, but perhaps Cat will? You should bring her to tomorrow’s dance.”

  Sure, and then we can make the lie even worse.

  “She might have plans. Or be too tired. She’s working the card booth for her mom.”

  “I’ll make it worth her while.” Birdie gave him a mischievous smile Alex didn’t dare try and decipher. Besides, whatever was going to happen tomorrow night was still a long way off. First, he had to tell Cat another thread had been added to the complicated tapestry they were weaving.

  …

  “And all this time it was because the twins had warned him off. Can you believe it?” Nikki demanded as the pair of them sat at the Franklin Grove Memorial Hall. It had taken an hour to set up her mom’s cards and prints, and after uploading several shots of the booth to Instagram, they’d settled down, Cat with a coffee, and Nikki a hot chocolate. A few early-rising customers began to drift through. It would get busier as the day wore on, but for now they could relax.

  “It does sound like something the twins would do.” Cat leaned back in her camping chair, letting caffeine flood her body. “Did you ask them?”

  “And some,” Nikki said. “Not that they were sorry. Their excuse was if a guy liked me enough, he wouldn’t be scared. Brothers, honestly.”

  “They have a point,” Cat said. Her life certainly would’ve been easier if she’d had two eighteen-year-old black-belt brothers to scare the bejesus out of Bennet. Then she caught Nikki’s narrowed eyes. “Not that I’m condoning such behavior, but at least it worked out in the end.”

  “Yeah, it did.” Nikki let out a happy sigh as she drank her hot chocolate and told Cat once again about how her date with Parker had led to a gaming arcade and the discovery they loved Bruce Lee movies and pecan ice cream. “I mean, isn’t it amazing?”

  “The stuff of legends,” Cat agreed.

  “Which segues nicely on to you and Alex. What did you guys do last night?”

  She toyed with reminding Nikki for the gazillionth time they weren’t dating, but now that her friend was in a love-induced fugue, she decided to save her energy.

  “Nothing. He was visiting Birdie, and I had a date with my to-be-read pile,” Cat said. Her regular reading routine had taken a hit after meeting Bennet—not to mention how behind she was on posting her book reviews. But last night her mom had been out on The Date, which meant she’d had the couch and the reading snacks all to herself.

  Blissful.

  “You need to wake up and see this for what it really is,” Nikki growled.

  “A stationary booth at a craft fair?” Cat blinked, which earned her a dark look from her friend.

  “An opportunity,” Nikki corrected. “You can deny the chemistry all you want, but it won’t change the fact it’s there. So, stop playing coy, and do something about it.”

  “There’s nothing to be done. Alex is my friend.”

  A friend who currently drives me to and from school, sits with me at lunch, and when he touches me, I think my skin’s going to burn.

  That’s normal. Right?

  “Really?” Nikk
i said, her gaze drifting to the notebook near Cat’s purse. Thanks to a stationary habit that bordered on obsessive, she always had a pile of fresh notebooks ready and waiting. Her current one was pale pink, crisscrossed with rose gold lines. “So, if I opened this up, I would find part two of the ‘Bennet Miller Must Die’ saga you were working on last week?”

  She lunged for the notepad and hugged it to her chest, trying not to think about her most recent story. It involved a shy junior and a hot senior, with eyes like a summer sky, going on a date where they talked the night away with hilarious (but sexy) banter before making out. And while it was fiction that had nothing to do with her whatsoever, Nikki might read something else into it.

  Note to self. In future, stick to killer ants.

  Oh, and don’t bring your journal out to a public place.

  “I rest my case.” Nikki smirked in response.

  “Even if I wanted to date him—and I’m not saying I do—it’s a bad idea. There are so many reasons it wouldn’t work,” she said, the words strange in her mouth, like testing out a new pizza topping, unsure if she liked it or not.

  “And I’m not interested in hearing any of them.” Nikki cut her off. “You’re sixteen. This is the time we’re meant to be having fun. Messing up. Experimenting. So, less with the thinking and more with the doing. Okay?”

  No. Not okay.

  Especially since the last time she didn’t think, it had become a viral video. But before she could answer, a customer wandered up to the booth, and Cat jumped up, pausing only to tuck the notebook safely in her purse.

  By midafternoon the market had all but finished. Nikki had left an hour ago, and Cat’s mom had floated in not long after. One look at the smile tattooed on her face told Cat The Date had gone well. Her mom confirmed it by saying they were going to an afternoon movie if Cat didn’t mind packing up on her own.

  She didn’t, and after teasing her mom that if Joe was going to be Cat’s new stepfather, she’d require a pony for Christmas, she’d waved her off. Besides, judging by the dreamy, far-away look in her mom’s eyes, she probably wouldn’t have been much help.

  She’d just lifted a stack of prints and carefully put them into one of the boxes when an unwelcome scent stung her nostrils.

  Bennet.

  She swallowed her surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Oh, Cat’s grown some claws,” he drawled. His caramel hair (so streaked) was pushed back from his wide brow, and his mouth was twisted into a mocking smile. When they’d been together—if that’s what it had even been—she’d found it enticing in a Great Gatsby kind of way. Now it was like she was seeing him from the other side of the glass.

  Pretentious. Overbearing. Unkind.

  How did I not see it sooner?

  In the distance, Isabel was staring directly at them. Whatever Bennet wanted, it was obvious she was in on it, too.

  “Not soon enough,” Cat said as she returned to her packing. Bennet watched her, amusement tugging at his mouth. “What do you want?”

  “No one believes it, you know,” he finally said, smooth and slow like a well-drilled salesman.

  “Believes what? That you were a douche? I think the evidence is overwhelming,” she said, proud her voice wasn’t shaking.

  “About you and Locke. That you’re a couple,” he said before dropping the smile as a flash of something crossed his features. Remorse? “You’re just doing it to save face.”

  “And what would I be saving face from? The fact you humiliated me? That you started dating Isabel two seconds afterward?”

  His jaw flickered, like he’d registered a hit. “I get I hurt you, and I’m sorry. Trust me, I’ve paid the price.”

  Cat snorted. “By going to some lame program to teach you how to be a decent human being? You poor thing.”

  He flinched. “Think what you want. I’m just trying to give a heads up because compared to that guy, I’m a kitten.”

  “Wait. This is a public service announcement?” She turned away. Despite knowing what he was, seeing even a hint of vulnerability reminded her of just how gullible she’d been over the summer. Of how she’d messed everything up because she’d fallen for his poor little rich boy act. “Well, screw you.”

  This is what she should’ve done right from the beginning—told Bennet exactly what she thought of him. Weeks of anger eased their fingers from around her chest. She’d always thought that writing out her feelings would be enough, but she was wrong. It was letting him know how she felt, that her opinion actually counted, that made the difference.

  “Like I said. Just trying to help. I took down the clip, you know.”

  “I hope you don’t expect me to say thank you,” Cat retorted. No way was she buying his act for a second time.

  “Whatever.” Bennet threw his hands up in the air and walked toward Isabel, as if he were some kind of martyr. They disappeared, leaving her stiff like a statue, her heart pounding. Even being near him was like a slap in a face at how stupid she’d been. It wasn’t until the lights overhead flickered she remembered she was meant to be packing up. She was about to return to her boxes when her cell rang.

  It was Alex.

  A day of boys.

  “Hey.” She sucked in her breath and jumped up and down on the spot a couple of times to shake off the lingering humiliation from her encounter with Bennet. “This is a surprise.”

  “Yeah, hope I’m not interrupting anything.” His voice was low, with a hint of gravel, which she seemed to have a weakness for.

  “No, I’m just packing up.”

  “Good,” he said before pausing. “You sound flustered.”

  There was that radar again. She sighed. “I just had a run-in with Bennet.”

  Alex swore under his breath before seeming to collect himself. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. It was no big deal.”

  “Are you sure? Cat, I can be down there in ten minutes,” he said in a tight voice.

  “There’s no need. It was good, in a way. I finally told him exactly what I think of him.”

  “I should’ve been there.” He sucked in a breath as if trying to get himself under control.

  “Probably best you weren’t,” she said, recalling how intimidating he’d been to the jocks in the parking lot. It hit her what a lousy human being Bennet was. Not just content with embarrassing her, he was a sore loser. After all, Bennet doesn’t know Alex is only my fake boyfriend. Unlike Alex, who, despite being roped into helping her, seemed to care what happened. There was no comparison between the two. “But thanks.”

  “Sure,” he said then coughed. “There’s another reason I’m calling.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. Despite all the time they’d been spending together, they didn’t tend to phone for a chat very often. Yet another thing that seemed to be changing. Thank goodness Nikki wasn’t around to smirk. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re not going to like it,” he said. “Birdie asked if I could bring my girlfriend to see her tonight.”

  Cat groaned. “I’m surprised it took her so long to find out.”

  “She knew on Monday but thought she’d let us have a few days to explore our young love.”

  “Please tell me she didn’t say that.”

  “What she said was way worse,” he told her. She could almost picture him pressing his lips together and looking skyward. She couldn’t blame him. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

  Nikki’s words came back to her. Less with the thinking. More with the doing. And, she was starting to discover the best way not to think about Bennet Miller was to spend time with Alex Locke.

  “Sure. That would be great.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You could’ve said no,” Alex told her for the hundredth time as he held open the car door for her at Birdie’s new home. Brighton Pavilion was several stories of red brick, along with numerous outbuildings fanning out around a green, sculptured garden. Alex had told her the main building was full of apartm
ents, with the medical wing to one side and the communal spaces on the ground floor.

  Cat suspected the violet and orange shades of the sinking sun made the place look more romantic than it really was.

  “And miss out on a chance to see Birdie? No way.” She climbed out and checked her skirt hadn’t ridden up. She didn’t want to examine too closely why she’d decided at the last minute to change out of her standard jeans and T-shirt and put on the denim skirt that showed off the last of her summer tan. Or why she’d spent extra time on her makeup.

  Or why I keep thinking about him. All. The. Time.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shut the door behind her. His plain gray T-shirt clung to his chest, and his jeans couldn’t hide his strong thigh muscles. To the outside world, he appeared just like he’d always had, but over the last week it was like Cat had been given a special pair of glasses. Alex-sensitive glasses.

  “I dragged you into this thing. It’s the least I can do. Now, lead the way.”

  “It’s up to the right.” He nodded to a meandering path that led toward the main building. The fading light trailed behind them as they walked up to the reception counter and signed in. The lobby had marble floors and a wall-size photo of its namesake, the Brighton Pavilion in England, which was ornate and looked like something from the pages of the Arabian Nights. The two locations didn’t quite compare.

  “Alex. Good to see you.” The guy at the reception counter nodded. “Birdie’s latest eBay treasure arrived. I tried to catch her, but you know what a socialite she is. Do you want to take it?”

  “Sure.” Alex nodded as the guy handed him a large package in the shape of a football and gave him something to sign before going away to sign in some other visitors. He turned to her. “You okay if we drop this in her apartment?”

  “I think I’ll survive.” They walked to the elevator and hit the button for the third floor. Music piped into the confined space, while his arm brushed hers. A giddy sensation pounded in her chest as the doors slid open and he led her down a corridor of garish carpet until they reached a non-descript door.