by Joy Penny
“What are those?” asked Lilac, grabbing a tissue and wiping her nose with it.
“Graphic novels,” said Brielle.
“Somebody got to go on a date with her hot comic artist client last night,” said Gavin. He winked at the screen.
“It wasn’t a date, really.” Brielle laughed and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. “Or it sort of was, but it was not just the two of us and oh my god, Lilac, did Gavin tell you about Pembroke?”
Lilac ought to have cared about Pembroke. Part of her really did want to know what had gone on and why she was the only one out of the loop. But then the thought struck her that she knew exactly why she was out of the loop because she remembered what she had been up to while this had all gone on and so she started sobbing harder.
“Lilac!” said Gavin, all sweetness. “What’s wrong, honey? This can’t just be food poisoning, can it?”
“It is,” said Lilac, choking a bit on her words.
“Lilac,” said Brielle. “What’s going on? Seriously.”
Lilac dabbed her eyes, deciding part of the truth would suffice. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have blown away all the hard work I’d done to become a teacher, I shouldn’t have thought I could be happy here—”
“Told you,” snapped Brielle, entirely unhelpfully. “I could have told you you’d regret it even before you went off like that on a whim.”
“Brielle, I know you mean well, but that’s not really helpful,” said Gavin.
Lilac could feel that bitter anger burning behind her eyes again. “So I was stupid? Does that make you happy? For me to say I was stupid to do this stupid thing?” Her breath hitched.
Brielle actually had the audacity to look concerned. “Whoa, okay, look, I’m sorry. Let’s just… Take deep breaths. You’ve only been there a week. Give it time before you make another rash decision—”
Lilac wanted to throw the phone across the room and scream. Instead, she grit her teeth and smiled sweetly, saying, “Yup. That’s me. Rash Lilac. Look, I have to go. Talk later. Bye,” and then swiped the call off before they could respond. She settled for tossing the phone—hard—into her purse, grabbing her keys and heading toward the door.
At the entryway, she hesitated, not knowing where she was going. “I’m going for a walk!” she cried over her shoulder to Aunt Frankie, who was at the kitchen table, reading off her tablet. She was sure she could find a park or a beach or something. She didn’t care that she was still in yoga pants, a tank top, and a sweatshirt. She didn’t care about applying sunscreen or grabbing a sunhat.
“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough?” asked Frankie. “Maybe you should rest today so you’re ready for tomorrow.”
“I’m fine,” lied Lilac, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter Eight
Nolan had a tradition after work on Sundays, even though it was technically the first work day of the week for him.
He’d take his time after ending his shift and follow a routine: showering in the locker room, stopping by someplace to get dinner for himself, and then heading to a bar—usually alone—and just enjoying the last hour or two he’d have to himself for the rest of the week.
Not a bar at Tildy World, of course. He got as far away from there as he could for this moment of quiet.
There was a bar within a twenty-minute walk from his house. He’d often park the car at home and just walk there—his dad, if he knew what he did, certainly never called him on it. He seemed to realize that Sunday was the one day he needed to take charge of Willow and Landon, the one day he could manage to step up to the plate and give his eldest son some peace. They often weren’t even home when Nolan dropped off the car after his shift. Their dad couldn’t cook even if his life had depended on it, so he usually took the kids out, even if just for fast food.
Nolan thought about all the schoolwork he still had to complete—even with a part-time class load, he felt out of his depth on top of full-time work and the kids—and the kid who’d spilled grape juice on Silly Sandgrouse today. He often did that, thinking of Silly in the third person, separate from himself, as if he weren’t the one inside experiencing it all. As if he went on some heat-induced hallucination and floated outside of himself. Or maybe that was just the Tildy World rules rubbing off, his classification as Silly Sandgrouse’s “friend” stamped on everything from his badge to his paychecks.
“Being part of Tildy’s human entourage really pays,” Eddie had said once recently, holding up his check. “To think the poor girl has to buy friends despite all the fans she has.”
Nolan had thought about inviting Eddie and Jo to come with him today, but they didn’t work weekends and no doubt had something more romantic in mind for wiling away their Tildy-free hours.
He could have asked Cheryl or DeShawn or even Angie, who sure could have used it since she had still been freaking out about the grape juice when they’d parted ways, sure the dry cleaning would come out of her paycheck, but as was often the case Sundays, something inside him told him no, this was his hour. He needed to be alone today.
He’d only been twenty-one half a year, but he’d already gotten into a routine at Thommy’s. It was a very different routine than sneaking into an older friend’s place and sampling their home collection—less fun and more sobering. That was an odd description for drinking in a bar. Sobering.
But it was. Despite the chatter and the soft overhead music, it was the only time he could feel his mind empty, the only time he could think.
“The usual?” asked the cute bartender, Claire, as he walked in and sat on his usual stool.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding and returning her smile. She’d slipped him her number once and he’d put it on his phone, but he hadn’t called.
Man, he had no idea why he hadn’t called. He hadn’t been with a girl in… It was like a punch to the gut to think about it. Why hadn’t he called? She popped the top off his Coors and parked it in front of him. I should call her, he thought as she stood in the glow of the neon sign behind the bar that highlighted her sharply dark eyes.
The only problem was the question “your place or mine?” always had to be answered with “yours.” And then he had to get back in time to get breakfast for the kids, make sure Willow got on her bus, and take Landon to work with him.
Well, that was a mood killer. Just thinking about what he’d need to do put a damper on things. That was why he’d never bothered calling her. He could never focus his thoughts on one point, even when a cute girl like Claire stood right in front of him. Nolan thanked her and then purposely stared off to the side at a signed baseball encased in a three-dimensional frame. Claire stepped aside, picked up a cloth, and started wiping some glasses.
“Did I tell you I have a boyfriend now?” asked Claire nonchalantly. Nolan thought he caught something there, like she was trying to gauge his reaction.
“That’s great,” said Nolan, putting his beer down and cradling it. He smiled. He meant it. It was his fault for being too slow. And besides, he found it actually didn’t bother him much.
“Yeah…” said Claire, almost lost in thought. She responded to a guy calling for a top off at the other end of the bar and then made her way back toward Nolan ever-so-casually. “He’s a fireman,” she said, as if he’d asked and there hadn’t been a lull in the conversation. “What about you, hot stuff?”
“What about me?” Nolan ran his thumb over the condensation on his bottle. The coolness felt like a balm to his brain, one that let the tension flow out from his body.
She put her hands on her hips, cloth and all. “Are you seeing anyone yet?”
She had asked him if he’d been single that night she’d given him her number a few months back.
“No,” said Nolan. He stared at the beer instead of the cute girl. “No time. No energy.” He took another sip.
“Bullshit,” said Claire. “A man your age can make the time.” She picked up another glass. “You’re an odd one, Nolan.”
“You’re not telling me something I don’t already know.”
Claire smirked. “Odd but nice, not like…” Her gaze drifted around the room and landed on several of her customers. Then she put her elbows on the counter and leaned toward Nolan, giving him such a prime view of her cleavage that he had to immediately and pointedly lock gazes with her eyes instead. She smiled, as if she knew exactly what she’d just done. “Can I ask you to help me out?” she purred.
Nolan nodded, slowly, not following her. She leaned back and pointed over her shoulder to a dark corner of the bar, where someone—a blonde woman—had her back to them. “She’s been here almost since opening. She’s not being belligerent, but I’ve had to ask her to slow down. Some of the guys have sat down with her and she’s screamed at them to keep moving and… I just want to make sure she’s okay.” She straightened up again. “And you I trust to make sure she’s okay.”
Nolan cocked his head, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark gloom of that corner. His need to be alone was eradicated almost the instant he heard she was being harassed. “I can keep an eye on her,” said Nolan, grabbing his beer and walking toward the other end of the bar. He hadn’t meant to sit at her corner booth—just near it, to make sure she didn’t pass out or try to drive away drunk and to leer at anyone trying his luck and heading toward the booth. He understood the need to be alone more than anyone.
Although as he caught sight of her profile and the shapely way she filled out her sweats, a tiny part of Nolan could see exactly why more than one man had tried his luck, all evidence pointing to her wanting to be alone or not.
“Lilac?” he said out loud before his brain even caught up with what he was seeing.
She whipped her head around, all fire and fury. Her brow was furrowed, her hair in a bun behind her neck but somehow still mussed, her eyes bloodshot and puffy.
“Go the fu—” started Lilac, somewhat wobbly even in her seat, but then her facial muscles relaxed. “I know you,” she said.
All instincts to respect her need to be alone thrown out the window, Nolan slipped into her corner booth, sitting across from her. “It’s Nolan,” he said. “Lilac, are you okay?” It was a stupid question. She obviously wasn’t.
“No,” she spat. She didn’t scream at him to go away, just wrapped her hands around her shot glass, which sat next to a half-empty martini. He gazed across the room at Claire. How many drinks had she let her have before she’d cut her off?
Watching them, Claire nodded and turned, seemingly satisfied that Nolan would do no harm and that Lilac didn’t mind him being there.
Nolan slid around the corner booth to sit closer to Lilac but stopped the instant she flinched as he arrived right beside her. He scooched to give her some more space. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
She scoffed. “Nope.” Then she stared at him. “You’re cute,” she said, leaning toward him and wagging a finger. “Too cute, damn you. And too damn relaxed all the time.”
“Uh, thanks,” said Nolan, simultaneously flattered, confused, and concerned. If she were sober, he’d tell her she was drop-dead gorgeous, but he had a feeling she already knew that anyway.
Lilac scooched closer toward him and tried to whisper, but her voice came out loud and harsh. “Will you have sex with me?”
That got the attention of half the bar, even Claire.
Just then Lilac wrapped her arms around Nolan’s shoulders and he grabbed them, gently, pulling them down. “You can ask me that later,” he said, not about to entirely dismiss her in case there was some part of her that actually meant it. He chuckled despite himself. He was actually considering it with her if asked properly. He’d actually make time, as Claire had said, to have sex with her.
Even if he knew nothing could ever come of it.
His chest ached at that thought.
“I want sex now,” she whined, rolling her head back. “With a cute boy. A gentleman.”
“I’m half that, baby,” shouted some guy—a regular Nolan sort of recognized—from a few tables over. He lifted his mug to her as if to toast the statement.
“Fuck off,” said Nolan as Lilac giggled.
“You’re not Silly Sandgrouse,” slurred Lilac in the general direction of the guy who’d offered. “I want to fuck Silly Sandgrouse.”
Half the bar burst into laughter. Nolan supposed that made absolutely no sense to anyone there, as he hadn’t gotten into the habit of discussing the particulars of his job with the Thommy’s crowd, not even with Claire.
“Lilac, why don’t we go for a walk?” asked Nolan, pulling out his wallet. He had a ten in there—that was usually enough for his beer and the tip and it was really all he could spare. He came to Thommy’s mostly to think, not to get drunk. He stared at Lilac’s empty glasses.
“I got it,” said Lilac, swiping a hand at him and fumbling in her purse. She pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and tossed it down.
“Whoa, whoa,” said Nolan, snatching the bill after it landed, as if he could stop Claire from seeing it and expecting what had to be at least a fifty-dollar tip. “Don’t you have anything smaller?” He slipped out of the booth. “Let me ask Claire for change.”
Lilac caught his arm. “It’s fine,” she said. “Leave it.”
Nolan stared down at the hundred. He didn’t know Lilac’s salary—he imagined it was far better than his—but that was almost a full day’s work for him.
“Leave. It,” said Lilac firmly but with a twinge of playfulness to her tone. “The bartender is nice. She’s cute.” She leaned toward his ear. “I’m not gay, but she’s super cute.” She giggled.
Nolan turned to watch Claire, who was pouring for another customer, and his thoughts went wildly to the image of adorable Claire kissing gorgeous Lilac, Lilac’s light hands running through Claire’s thick, dark hair, Claire’s dark ones undoing that blonde bun.
He felt himself blushing, and Lilac might have noticed because she started giggling. “I know what you’re thinking,” said Lilac.
“Okay,” said Nolan, tossing the hundred on the table. He looked at his own wallet and considered pulling the ten out but wondered if Lilac’s one hundred would no doubt cover both his beer and his tip and then some. It wasn’t that he was cheap, but—
“It’s for yours too,” said Lilac, giving him permission.
Nolan cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He stared at his still only half-drunk beer and slipped his wallet back into his pocket. He slid out the free side of the seat and once he’d walked around to Lilac’s end of the booth, he reached a hand out toward her. She slid her purse strap up her arm more than once and grinned, taking his hand, standing before stumbling right into his arms. She buried her face against his chest. “Fuck me,” she said quietly—almost sadly.
Damn, stop putting images in my head!
He took a deep breath. “Let’s go for a walk, okay?” He nodded at Claire, who gave him a nod back.
Stepping away from him, Lilac started rummaging through her purse. “My car,” she said. “I can’t leave it here.”
“Oh yes, you can,” said Nolan, and he put his hand atop hers, lowering it back into the purse until she dropped the keys. “Let’s just go walk, okay?”
“Okay,” said Lilac, giggling. “Walk me to your car and your apartment.”
Nolan struggled to get the door for her with one hand as she leaned into his other arm. One of the guys catcalled as they exited and Nolan fought the urge to go back and slug him.
Lilac got ahead of him and stumbled into the parking lot. “Which one is yours?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“No car,” he said. When she didn’t seem to respond, he leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go to the park, okay?”
“Okay,” said Lilac, still clearly out of it. “Tildy Park, baby!”
“No, not Tildy World. The park park. It’s down here.”
She stumbled after him. “It’s a little dark,” she said, looking around them. They approached the edge
of the park and Nolan made a beeline for a bench under a tree to the side of the entrance. There were still kids out—and sometimes his dad brought his own siblings here—and the last thing they needed was Lilac making a scene.
“What time is it?” asked Lilac as she sat down beside him.
Nolan pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it. “9:30.” Landon would already be in bed.
Again, thoughts of his siblings sobered him, forcing his head clear of all the images of this gorgeous blonde sans sweats flashing before his eyes.
He would never, not in this kind of situation, but damn, if she wasn’t making it hard for him to think clearly.
Lilac gazed up at him conspiratorially. “Are we fucking in a park?” she asked, chuckling. “So brazen,” she said. “I love it.” She grabbed for her zipper on her hoodie.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Nolan reaching for her hand. “Slow down.”
Clutching his hand with both of hers, Lilac slammed it against one of her breasts. It was so large, it spilled out beyond his palm. He’d never cupped a breast that large before.
Her eyes looked so earnest, so hungry.
He recoiled, yanking his hand away.
“You don’t want me?” she asked, sad. “I thought you all wanted me. My boobs. My big, big, heavy, annoying boobs.”
“What? No,” he said. She looked crushed. “No, I do!” he said without thinking. “I just don’t want you like this.”
Lilac leaned back against the bench, practically spread-eagling herself. “Fucking take me and make it all go away. That’s what you all want, right? Well, maybe I want it, too. Maybe that’s what I need. Fuck love, fuck commitment, just fuck me.”
Nolan watched nervously around him to see if anyone had heard. The nearest people—a family—were some distance away at the playground, but he caught the dad’s head turning toward them and the guy’s gaze lingered. Nolan grunted in frustration. Even if he hadn’t heard them, he saw her there, practically melting into the bench, her arms and legs spread open.
