by J. Haymore
After that, it sort of became a tradition for us—we went every couple of months until I left for the East Coast for college. We haven’t been since.
“That’d be nice,” I tell her. I could use a good mani-pedi before my new job starts, anyway. My fingernails and toenails are in bad shape from working on the Temptation. And they were the last things on my mind in Hawaii with Ethan.
Three weeks. What am I going to do with myself for three long weeks? I can’t sit around and mope.
“It’s Thursday, right?” I ask Aunt Jo.
Her brows rise as she comes to sit across from me at the table, her coffee cup in hand. “Yes.”
I lost track of the days of the week while we were in Hawaii. But it’s Thursday and my future boss, Javier Lombardo, will be in the office.
The idea hits me in a moment of sheer brilliance. “You know what I’m going to do?”
“What?”
“As soon as nine o’clock rolls around, I’m calling Javier.”
“Your boss at your new job?”
“Right. I’m not supposed to start until August fifteenth, but I’m going to ask him if I can start earlier.”
A crease appears on Aunt Jo’s forehead as she frowns. “Are you sure? I mean, maybe you should take some time to recover from your ordeal.”
I release a puff of laughter. Which ordeal? I want to ask.
“I’m recovered from what happened on the Temptation, mostly.” It’s true. I’ve moved past the disgusted feeling when I discovered Mick was trying to kill me, and why. I don’t feel short of breath when I think of peanuts anymore. I’ve stopped having nightmares about Kyle falling overboard. I’ve gotten over the terror of nearly drowning on the night the Temptation sank.
There’s only one result of that night I’ll never get over.
“Nalani…” I tell Aunt Jo quietly. “I’ll never forget her. But I’m ready to move on. I really want to move on with my life. Does that make sense?”
“You want to move on from Ethan too, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do.”
Aunt Jo nods. “That makes sense, Pumpkin. Do what you need to do.” She sighs heavily. “He came here last night.”
I nearly drop my cup of coffee halfway to my mouth. I manage to contain it in my violently shaking hand, though, and guide it back down to the table. “What?”
“He asked to speak with you. I told him you were in bed—which you were—and to go away.” She stares down at her fingers, which are drumming the Formica. “I might have also mentioned that he was an asshole and that it’d be a good idea if he never darkened my doorstep again.”
I blink at her. “I’m pretty sure people don’t tell him that often. What did he say?”
“He was shockingly respectful. He apologized—and he actually did sound contrite—then he said he’d try to get in touch with you another way, and left.”
I nod, pondering whether I’m happy Aunt Jo didn’t let him bother me, or sad that I wasn’t able to see him.
I’m sad. Sad! I’m such an idiot. I should be thrilled she kicked his ass off her property. Ecstatic.
But I’m not. I miss him, damn it. I crave having him close. Seeing his face…
I close my eyes. I’m too far gone when it comes to Ethan. I don’t know how to reel it back in. Why isn’t there an instruction manual on how to fall out of love with someone?
But Aunt Jo’s protectiveness—that makes me feel good. I know she loves me and Kyle does too, and that’s got to be enough.
A few minutes later, Kyle comes in. He has never knocked at Aunt Jo’s door—he always comes in like he owns the place. Neither Aunt Jo nor I have ever minded, though it used to drive Em crazy back when she still lived with us and used to parade around half-naked.
“That damn little boy just walks in when I’m in my underwear!” she used to screech.
“Then put on some clothes once in a while,” Aunt Jo and I would say in rebuttal.
Aunt Jo makes the spinach-and-feta omelets, and we all sit around the table eating them. Kyle is subdued this morning, definitely not himself. He doesn’t talk much beyond the necessities, and his gaze keeps wandering to the window.
“What’s wrong, Kyle?”
He glances at Aunt Jo, startled. Then his lips twist. “Just…” He shakes his head. “Just thinking about yesterday.”
I don’t meet his eyes.
Aunt Jo ponders this for a moment. “You mean, after you landed in Burbank?”
“Yeah. Exactly what I mean.”
“Tara told me about it last night.” Aunt Jo leans forward a bit. “What do you make of it?”
“He’s an asshole.”
Well, the two of them are on the same page, at least.
“It seems hard to explain his actions any other way,” Aunt Jo muses.
“And he doesn’t deserve her.”
Aunt Jo gives Kyle a speculative look, then the second round of toast pops up, and she gets up to butter it.
I slide Kyle a look. I don’t want to get into this with him right now. I can’t handle it. He seems to take the hint—for now—and doesn’t bring up Ethan again.
When nine o’clock rolls around, I go upstairs to call Javier. When he answers, I say, “Javier? Hi, it’s Tara Jameson.”
“Well, hello, Tara. Are you back in LA?” His voice is warm and pleasant. I’m going to like working with him.
I swallow over the nervous lump in my throat, then grasp my newfound assertiveness. “Yes, I just got back from Hawaii.”
“Great. Did you have a nice time?”
Ack. Small talk. I’ve never been very good at it.
“It was…an adventure.” I take a fortifying breath. “The thing is, now that I’m back, I feel like I’m sitting around twiddling my thumbs waiting for my start date.”
He chuckles.
“I was wondering if I could start earlier than August fifteenth? Maybe…Monday?”
He laughs outright at that. “Oh, to be so green,” he teases. “Turning down an extra couple of weeks of vacation to get to work faster.”
“I know—it sounds stupid, doesn’t it? But I really am looking forward to starting—”
“Monday’s not a good day—I’ll be out of town. But I’ll be back Wednesday night, so how about Thursday? I already have the starter projects I was planning to have you work on ready to go.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “That’s so great. Thank you!”
“No problem, Tara. But I’m putting you to work. You’re going have long hours, and you’re going to be very busy. I hope you don’t regret it.”
“I won’t,” I vow.
We talk for a few more moments—more awkward small talk—then hang up.
Perfect. Only a few more days, and I’ll have something else to think about besides Ethan.
Aunt Jo and I go for our mani-pedi as soon as the salon opens at ten. Afterward, Kyle borrows his parents’ Range Rover to take me to pick up a few groceries, then home to my apartment.
I let us in using Aunt Jo’s spare set of keys, mentally adding making more house keys to my to-do list.
Kyle usually comes in, searches my refrigerator for a beer and/or junk food, then plops onto my couch. But today he sets my bag down, then hovers uncertainly at the door.
Halfway to my kitchen, my arms full of grocery bags, I turn to him, brows raised. “What?”
“Er…do you want me to come in?”
“Of course.”
He exhales in what looks like relief, then enters and closes the door. “I wasn’t sure…”
I put the bags on the counter. “Never doubt it, Kyle. My house is yours.”
“Things have changed between us.” His voice is quiet but sure.
Taking the milk out of one of the bags, I chew on my lip. Then I look across the counter at him. “I don’t want them to. I still want you to be my best friend. I need you…”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” he says softly.
I close my eyes. Ever since Kyl
e told me he was in love with me back on the Temptation, things have been touch and go between us.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ky.”
“I don’t want to lose you either. But”—he keeps his gaze steady on me—“I want more.”
Oh God. Not now. My hands tighten on the edge of the granite countertop.
What if Ethan had never come into my life and I’d never fallen for him?
What if Kyle had been subtler about his attraction for me and had let it build slowly between us?
No, never, a part of me says definitively. That part has always thought of Kyle as a brother. That part of me has never had anything more than sisterly feelings toward him.
But another part of me, a part that’s grown bigger over the last few weeks, knows that Kyle is there for me. He’s always been there for me. He’s been steadfast. I can depend on him, always. He’s loyal. Except for keeping his attraction a secret from me, he’s never lied to me. He’s always cared about me—loved me.
And I care about him too. I love him too. I’ve just never thought about loving him more than a sister would. But what if I changed my outlook? What if I tried to look at him as if he was a man rather than a brother?
Could I see him that way?
He’s good-looking. He’d be good to me. His love for me seems unconditional. What more could I ask for?
But as much as logic tells me that to fall for Kyle would be the smartest thing, I just…can’t. I can’t do it. At least not now.
“Don’t, Kyle. Please,” I beg him. “It’s too soon.” Just last night, I was talking about how I was going to spend tonight with Ethan. Now Kyle is asking me for more, and my brain feels like it’s on the verge of exploding.
He nods. “Okay. I get it. But you need to know where I stand. This isn’t going to go away.”
“What about Ethan?”
His eyes narrow. “What about him? You’re dumping him, right?”
“Probably,” I push out. I don’t meet his eyes.
“Probably? You’ve got to be kidding me. Jesus Christ, Tara, I have never seen anyone treat someone as shittily as he treated you yesterday. For fuck’s sake, that was his fianc-fucking-ée that showed up. You were”—he makes air quotes—“the woman on the side, and you’re probably going to dump him?”
I think about Ethan coming to Aunt Jo’s last night. “We haven’t talked about what happened yet. Maybe there’s some explanation.”
Kyle snorts. “No wonder he was so pissed off that the press showed up. He didn’t want her to know about you.”
“Shut up, Kyle.” Even as the words come out, I wonder again why I’m defending Ethan. Kyle is echoing my own fears about Ethan’s relationship with that woman, which means my worries aren’t unfounded.
Kyle makes an exasperated noise and throws his arms up in the air. “You’re making me crazy.”
“I’m making myself crazy,” I assure him.
“Then stop. Just stop. The guy’s obviously a liar and a manipulator. How do you not see it?”
He’s right. Ethan has lied to me. That’s a truth I need to hold on to, because without it, I’m never going to be able to move on. But still… “I need to talk to him,” I say stubbornly. “I need to figure some things out.”
He scoffs. “God.” He shakes his head, turning away. “I just don’t get it. How is it that you can keep going back to such a bastard when I… Shit. What the fuck is it that he has that I don’t?”
Oh God, please don’t go there. But he has gone there. And he keeps going.
“Is it because he’s filthy rich and I’m just a poor boy slumming it at the beach? I never took you for the materialistic type.”
It’s not that. But what do I say? Because it’s not that, but I don’t know what it is. I’m as confused by the whole thing as Kyle is. My mind tells me it’s Kyle I should be with, hands down. But my heart and my body are screaming something altogether different. They’re screaming Ethan.
“Because he’s into business like you, and I’m into surfing?” Kyle continues. “Because he has darker hair? Because he’s all broody and shit, and I’m an open book? Or maybe you have a masochistic streak, and you can’t handle someone who actually wants to be good to you?” He slams the flat of his hand down on the granite. “What is it, Tara? I need to know. I need to know what the fuck it is you find so lacking in me.”
I close my eyes. Of all the things he’s listed, the masochistic streak is probably most accurate. I always seem to make the choice that will hurt me the most.
“I don’t know—” I begin, but a knock on my door stops me short.
My eyes go wide as I look from the door back to Kyle. It’s got to be Ethan—who else would it be? No one else would be able to get past the security at the building’s front door.
“Fuck,” Kyle mutters, pushing a frustrated hand through his messy blond hair.
Kyle is just behind me as I walk to the door and peer through the peephole.
Ethan stands there, looking mind-bogglingly handsome, as always. His expression is set, serious. And then, even though he can’t really see me, his eyes meet mine. My breath catches in my throat, and I pull back.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Kyle spits out.
“Yes.” I straighten my shoulders. I’m ready for this.
I open the door. Ethan doesn’t move, but his gaze shifts from me to Kyle and back to me again. He’s wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt. His tie is loose at his neck, the top button of his shirt unbuttoned. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and his persistent five-o’clock shadow covers his jaw. I don’t allow myself to think of the way those little bristles of hair have abraded my skin in my most secret places. I refuse to remember how I love the rough sensation of his jaw rubbing over my sensitive flesh.
He releases a long breath. “Tara.” He says my name like a prayer.
“Ethan,” I respond, my voice stretched so taut, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.
“What are you doing here?” The aggression in Kyle’s tone is unmistakable.
Ethan doesn’t spare him a glance. He gives me a tight smile. “Ready for Tito’s Tacos?”
I gape at him. He’s got to be kidding me. Slowly, I shake my head.
“Tito’s Tacos?” Kyle asks, dumbfounded.
For the first time, Ethan rests his calm gaze on Kyle. “We have a lunch date,” he says.
“Bullshit you have a lunch date. You aren’t taking her anywhere, asshole.”
Ethan reaches out as if to take my hand. “Let’s go.”
But Kyle steps between us, fists clenched at his sides. “What did I say? You aren’t taking her anywhere.”
A sort of panicked indecision washes over me. Let them fight it out…or do something. But I don’t know what to do.
I grab Kyle’s muscular forearm. “Kyle, back off.”
He bristles for a moment, then gives me a tight nod. I look past him to Ethan. “He’s right. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Especially not to Tito’s Tacos. That place is sacred to me. I’m not going to let him take me there and destroy all my memories of my parents and me and Emily in the days when we were a family.
Ethan’s expression remains flat. “Okay. But we still need to talk.”
He’s right about that. Nevertheless, I grind my teeth, tempted to tell him to get out of my building and out of my life. But I want to talk to him. I need answers about Justine.
Because I always have a need to make sense of the incomprehensible.
I step back, pulling Kyle along with me. “Fine,” I bite out, “I’ll give you five minutes. But I’m busy, so make it quick.”
He comes in and closes the door. I stand side by side with Kyle in the middle of the living room, the two of us staring him down.
I let go of Kyle and cross my arms over my chest. “Well? What do you want to tell me?”
He flicks a glance at Kyle.
“Oh no,” I say. “Don’t even think about it. Kyle’s staying. He saw what happened.
He has as much right to answers as I do.”
His lips pressed into a flat line, Ethan nods. When he doesn’t say anything, I tap my foot impatiently. “Well?”
He takes a deep breath. “That woman was Justine Lindberg.”
I scoff. “I heard.”
“I met her freshman year at Stanford. She and I…” His hands tighten into fists, then flex at his sides. “She and I were together. For almost six years.”
Something has sucked all the air out of the room. I can hardly breathe. Six years. My God… Six years feels like forever. And if they’ve been broken up for five years, that means they started dating when I was ten years old. Holy hell.
“Oh shit,” Kyle says. “I recognize her. She’s the girl hanging off your arm in that picture that’s on all the websites.”
Ethan’s gaze flicks to Kyle. “Yes. That’s her.” He turns back to me, and for the first time, emotion flares in his expression, though I can’t begin to imagine what it means.
“I’m sorry, Tara,” he says softly. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”
I blink at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Because it was pretty clear that woman thought of you as hers.”
His lips turn down in a grimace before his expression goes flat again. “If that’s what she was thinking, then she’d be wrong.”
“She kissed you, Ethan. You kissed her back—”
“I didn’t kiss her back—”
“—then you held her hand and talked to the press…after you told me we were going to try to avoid them. You were smiling, for God’s sake.”
For the first time since he walked in, Ethan’s carefully constructed calm veneer seems to crumble. He heaves in a heavy breath. “Goddamn it.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking do anything right.”
“Yeah, no shit, asshole,” Kyle mutters.
Ethan’s gaze goes to Kyle. He grinds his teeth so hard I see his jaw working, then he looks back at me. “Look. It wasn’t what it seems. She didn’t take our breakup well. It was years ago, but she’s a loose cannon. I hate being in front of the press, and even more, I hate making a scene in front of the press. If I’d turned away from her, she would have made a scene. I knew you wouldn’t.”
