by Sarah Hegger
He looked tortured. “Blythe I…”
“Exactly.” Blythe slipped around the desk and walked to the door. She stopped beside him, steeling herself against the scent of him. “If you ever cared for me, even a little, you’ll let me go to find what I need with someone else. Don’t call me. Don’t text me, and please don’t try to see me. Please.”
Blythe left the office and joined Joan.
Glancing at her, Kurt raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
She managed a small smile in return. No, she wasn’t all right, but she would be.
* * * **
Eric stood in her postage stamp office and stared at the space Blythe had occupied mere moments ago. He’d come charging into the gym all buoyed up on righteous indignation. Until this moment it hadn’t sunk in that she meant it this time. There would be no charming her back into his bed and his life. Blythe had broken up with him, and they were going to stay broken up.
Boy, had she smashed the wind out of his sails.
Some part of him wanted to chase after her and demand she take it back. Tell her she didn’t love him, couldn’t love him. God, she of all women should know he was not the man a woman gave her heart to. He couldn’t be trusted with anything that precious. Most of all he didn’t want the responsibility.
The responsibility of his mother had slowly drained the life out of his father. It had almost killed every one of Matt’s dreams as well. Eric wouldn’t be dragged into that swamp.
Not that Blythe had ever been a swamp. He’d valued her honesty, adored her body and enjoyed her company.
It all made a sickening kind of sense. She couldn’t stay in contact with him, not if what she said was true. As much as he wanted to deny it, the truth had been right there in those incredible green eyes.
Despite the way she’d grown up, Blythe’s eyes always told the truth. She’d never been able to lie to him. All he had to do was look into those beautiful green eyes, and they would let the secret out.
How had he not seen it? How had a woman incapable of subterfuge kept this secret from him?
Across the gym her blond hair drew his gaze. She’d been his best kept secret. In his private self, he’d been so smug that he alone knew who Blythe Barrows really was. While the rest of Ghost Falls made their assumptions and jumped to their nasty conclusions, he had known the truth. Blythe Barrows was a woman of a steel spine and warm, gooey center. That she made love with her entire being and was incredibly picky about who she shared that gift with.
Now she would take all that wonderful to another man. A man who deserved it more. A man who could give her everything she deserved. And, fuck it, she deserved her forever dream, her white picket fence.
The least he could do is get out her way.
Chapter Nine
Blythe stumbled through the rest of Joan’s appointment and the one after hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen Eric leave the gym.
He wouldn’t be back, and he would honor her wishes. It was really over.
She’d known this when she left his house and his bed that morning, but it felt as fresh as that first cut.
After her last client for the day, she climbed in her car and got on with the next phase of her plan.
Since he’d first started working Will had been hired by Diva St. Amor. First for yard work, and then for more responsibility and money. The diva was known throughout Ghost Falls for her generosity, and she must be the source of Will’s car.
As grateful as she was, Blythe hated how her family had survived on handouts for too long. Now with her new truncated family, the charity train had left the station.
Pulling down the long driveway, she wound through towering trees until she reached the house.
This was the first time Blythe had been this close to it, and it took a moment to take it all in. It looked like a gothic stage set. Gargoyles leering from the eaves made her slightly nervous as she parked her car and climbed out.
Flanked by oversized urns filled to the brim with a violent clash of orange, red and yellow, the steps led up to a wooden door. Blythe rang the bell, which sounded through the house on a hollow gong. She half expected Riff Raff to answer the door.
June, the diva’s longtime housekeeper and probably the most miserable woman in Ghost Falls answered the door. She took one look at Blythe and sniffed. “Yes?”
“I’d like to see Mrs. St. Amor.” The town should know by now how little she cared for their opinion of her. In her teens she’d done her best to stir them all up a bit. That had soon lost its appeal. It was just too easy.
“Ms.” June jerked her dull yellow cardigan around her shoulders. “She doesn’t like to be labeled by her association with a man.”
Blythe kept a pleasant smile on her face but firmed her voice. “Right. I’d like to see Ms. St. Amor.”
“You got an appointment?” June’s dismissive gaze swept her from top to toe.
“No, but I—”
June eased the door shut. “If you want to see the diva, you got to make an appointment. She’s an important lady.”
Blythe could come back another day, but she wanted it over and done with. Moving into her new apartment, the break up with Eric, and now this. They were all stages of moving on with her life. The life she wanted to have. “Please, I—”
“Who is it that comes knocking at our door, dearest Junie?” In a nostril-searing waft of patchouli, the diva appeared and nudged her housekeeper out of the way. Her bright green velvet caftan bounced sunlight to the back of Blythe’s eye balls. Ropes of gold chains and pearls dangled over her impressive blossom. “Why, it’s mon petite ange.” The diva sent bracelets crashing as she shooed June out of the doorway. “Make space for our guest, old woman.”
With a snort, June took a few steps back and folded her arms. She glared at Blythe over the top of them.
“Run along and dust something.” The diva waved her hands at June. She got hold of Blythe’s arm in a firm grip. “And you will come with me. We will drink cocktails and have a little chat.”
“Actually I don’t—”
“La!” The diva trilled. “Wait until we are seated with a libation before you speak.”
Feeling like it would be easier to stand in front of a speeding train, Blythe trailed her into the house.
The diva showed her into a lounge crammed with overstuffed ornate furniture. It looked like the she might slide right off those floral silk sofas. She assumed they were silk.
“Now.” The diva shut the door behind her and turned to face Blythe. Her face grew serious, and her eyes so kind it hurt to look at her. “Now, you shall call me Phi and tell me what makes mon petite ange look so terribly sad.”
“I’m not…”
Phi looked at her and looked some more.
Blythe dropped into a chair. “You said something about a cocktail?”
“Indeed.” Phi turned and descended on a large globe bar. She tossed open the top and surveyed the contents. “I have been fortunate in my life to have only been acquainted with the agony of heartbreak once and it was many, many years ago.” She grabbed a cocktail shaker and whipped the top off. “But I have not forgotten what it felt like. I see this look in your eyes.”
“We’ve only ever met in passing.” A part of Blythe goggled at the conversation, and another wanted to stay there forever. There was something about sitting there with Phi that felt like a different place and time.
Phi added gin to the shaker and gave her a meaningful stare. “We women do not have to know each other well to read each other’s pain.”
Blythe settled as best she could on the slippery sofa.
“I assume this has to do with the delectable Eric.”
“Eh?” Shock straightened Blythe’s spine.
Phi crashed bottles together and whipped a silver ice bucket out of the bar. She wrenched open the door and thrus
t it out. “We require ice, June, and you may stop listening at the door.”
Nobody knew about her and Eric in Phi’s family except Laura, and surely Laura would never have said anything. Divulging their relationship might lead to Laura having to share how it had come about, and Blythe was willing to bet she didn’t want that to get out. Especially in light of her current troubles.
Blythe sat there beneath the endless patience and understanding of Phi’s gaze, and the walls shoring up her broken heart crumbled. The depth of the pain staggered her and felt like there would never be a time when it was no longer there.
Phi turned and waggled her fingers at Blythe. “Come to Phi, my darling.”
Blythe had no idea how Phi did it, but she was on her feet and wrapped deep in the best hug of her life before she could even form the desire.
“There now.” Phi rubbed her back.
Somehow she was not only being hugged but she was sobbing like it was her last day on earth.
It took a while for the tears to come to an end, and Phi held her throughout, murmuring words in languages Blythe didn’t understand, but they comforted her nonetheless.
Once she had calmed, Phi put her back down on the sofa with a rose bedecked box stuffed full of Kleenex. During her breakdown, June must have brought the ice bucket because Phi went back to the bar and got busy making cocktails.
“Tell me, ange?” Phi raised her voice over the clash of glassware. “How long have you been in love with our Eric?”
Some things you couldn’t fight. “About eighteen years and eight months. How long have you known?”
“About eighteen years, seven months and two weeks.” She widened her eyes. “Ask dear, dear Wheeler. I have my ways of knowing everything.”
“Will.” Blythe got busy mopping herself up. “I know he’s christened Wheeler, but he prefers if we call him Will.”
Phi snorted and tossed a hand. “I don’t blame him. Ridiculous name. Wheeler.” Another, louder snort. “What was your father thinking?”
“That it was funny,” Blythe said. “It’s amazing what amuses you when you’re that deep into a bottle of rye whisky.”
“Indeed.” Phi’s vibrato rumbled through the room. “Now William is a name I can work with. William.”
Blythe blew her nose. “Actually, it’s just Will.”
“Wilhelm. I knew a wonderful flautist called Wilhelm once.” She laughed like a tavern wench. “Marvelously talented lips, if you know what I mean.”
Nodding, Blythe was very much afraid she did know.
Phi heaved a sigh big enough to raise her impressive bosom and catch light in all her necklaces. “Unfortunately, I had to leave Wilhelm in Vienna.”
“Oh, dear.” Blythe had no idea what else to say.
“Anyway.” Phi took a sip of her drink and smacked her lips. “Let us speak of my darling Eric instead. Commitment issues are so passé, don’t you find?”
“Um…”
“One would think such a delicious boy could come up with a more interesting dilemma.” Phi shook her head.
Blythe felt like she was chasing a runaway train out the station. “He has his reasons, I suppose.”
“He most certainly does.” Phi’s necklaces winked and danced. “I blame that silly cow, Cressy.”
“His mother?”
“Pshaw.”
Until that moment, Blythe had never actually heard someone say that.
“That woman is not a mother,” Phi said. “She is no better than that Barr—” She snapped her mouth shut.
“Than my mother.” Blythe finished for her. It stung but it was not exactly a surprise. “They both have their reasons for being the way they are.”
Phi got up and grabbed the cocktail shaker again. “I apologize for that.”
“No need.” Blythe drained her glass. “I would protest but then we both know better.”
Nodding Phi brought the cocktail shaker over and filled Blythe’s glass. At this rate Blythe would be calling Will to come and fetch her. Except she had to pick up Kim in a bit, and she put her glass down.
“What reason did our Eric give for ending things?” Phi made herself comfortable.
It was almost a relief that Phi didn’t know everything. “Actually, I ended things.”
With an exaggerated gape, Phi sipped. “Oh, my.” She chuckled. “That would not please our darling boy. Control.” She leaned forward and winked. “He likes to have it. Needs it, really.” Phi sat back. “After the death of his father, and his mother collapsing, Eric needs to feel as if he steers his own ship.”
Blythe’s heart still hurt for him. She remembered Mr. Evans dying. She had been in Nate’s class and had seen the way the death had broken his children. All except Matt, who had put his shoulder to the harness and done what needed doing.
A year later she and Eric had stumbled into each other’s lives.
“What did you say to him?” Phi watched her carefully.
There didn’t seem any reason to lie. Having wept all over Phi, her dignity was a lost cause. “I told him I wanted more for myself. That I loved him and knew he didn’t love me in return.” The wobbly front of another crying jag swept toward her, and Blythe took a deep breath. “It’s okay that he doesn’t love me. He never said he did, and he never promised any more than what we had. But I need more. For me.”
Phi studied her. “You sound awfully final about matters.”
“I have to be.” Blythe shrugged. “I have been avoiding his calls and not seeing him since the breakup. He cornered me today at work. He was angry.”
“I bet he was.” Phi chuckled again. She wagged a finger at Blythe. “You are a very clever and astute young thing, you know?”
“Thank you.” Blythe didn’t know what the glitter in Phi’s eyes was all about.
“Phi?” a woman called.
“Ah.” Phi gave an earsplitting trill and sprung to her feet. “Just the person we need.”
The door opened, and Pippa came in carrying the most adorable baby.
Phi clapped her hands and descended on the baby. “You brought my darling baby girl.”
“Well you threatened not to see me if I didn’t,” Pippa said with a fond smile at her grandmother. She handed the baby over, and then caught sight of Blythe. “Oh! Hello.”
“Hi.” Blythe always felt uncomfortable around Pippa, like she was in the presence of royalty, which Pippa kind of was Ghost Falls royalty. She had a successful television show, a wonderful husband, and now an adorable child. Plus Pippa was as close as Ghost Falls came to having a star, after Diva St. Amor that was. Then there was the way Pippa was always so effortlessly elegant. Blythe never missed an episode of Pippa’s makeover show. She tried to pick up all the tips she could.
“How are you?” Pippa glanced from her to Phi as if sensing the atmosphere.
“Great.” Blythe gestured the baby. “She’s beautiful.”
“Darling Blythe says she is great.” Phi leaned closer to Pippa. “But I can see already that you suspect a lie.”
“Uh, no.” Pippa shook her head at Phi. “And even if I did suspect something, it’s not my place to say something until she does.” She turned back to Blythe. “And thank you.” Pippa had the sort of blindingly beautiful smile that always made Blythe feel grubby by comparison. Her red hair shone and her green eyes danced with intelligence and humor. “She’s not letting anyone get any sleep at the moment. Other than herself that is.”
“Kim was like that,” Blythe blurted. “My youngest sister, Kim. She woke up three or four times a night. I didn’t get a full night’s sleep until after she was two.”
Pippa pulled a face. “Don’t tell me that. I have hopes of getting there sooner.”
The baby had hold of Phi’s necklaces and was tugging on them enthusiastically.
“What’s her name?” Eric
had told her at some stage, but Blythe had forgotten. Plus she wasn’t supposed to know.
“Jasmine.” Pippa picked up the cocktail shaker and gave it a sniff. “God, I can’t wait for cocktail hour with Phi again.”
“Anyway.” Blythe was acutely aware of her puffy eyes. She wasn’t a pretty crier. “I should be going.”
“I will see you soon, mon petite ange.” Phi winked at her. “Pippa and I are going to help you.”
“We are?”
“You are?” She and Pippa spoke at once.
“But of course.” Phi looked smug.
“No. Thank you, but that’s really not necessary.” Blythe had horrible premonitions of her and Eric’s long held secret becoming Ghost Falls gossip fodder. Oh hell, people would chew it over for months, their golden boy with the town whore.
“Of course it is.” Phi dismissed her with wave.
Pippa studied her. “How are we going to help, Phi?”
Phi raised her arms and revealed the spangled diaphanous batwings of her caftan. “All will be revealed in the fullness of time.”
Turning, Pippa fixed her with a look. “How long have you been practicing that?”
Phi gave her gutter laugh. “Months. But until now I have not had the opportunity to use it.” She grinned and raised her batwings. “Want to see it again?”
Chapter Ten
Blythe picked up Kim and dropped by the grocery store on her way home. Will was working, so she’d see him later.
She started to pull into her parking space outside her condo to find Barron already occupying it. Apparently her day wasn’t done having a crap on her.
Perched on his bike, he was sipping out of a paper bag as he glowered at her.
Kim sat in her car seat happily examining the painting she had done that morning.
As much as Blythe wished it was otherwise, she knew her family couldn’t leave her alone. She represented all that they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do with their lives.
“Kim.” Blythe kept her attention on Barron. Barron had that Brett streak running through him, and he’d been drinking. “I want you to stay in the car. Okay, baby?”
