Reckless Hearts

by Melody Grace

  “Good luck,” Will tells me.

  “You too,” I whisper back.

  I take a deep breath and answer. “Delilah Morgan, real estate solutions,” I say, trying to sound professional. I’ve been researching all week, and everything I’ve learned about the guy tells me that this could be a big deal. A really big deal.

  “Hi Delilah, sorry I haven’t been in touch before,” Ash’s voice comes. “Are you still good to get together and go over these Ocean Drive plans?”

  “Absolutely, whenever suits.”

  “Let’s say next week then. I’ll email over the specs, I’d love to hear what you propose. Like I said, we’re looking for the local touch. We’ve had some of the bigger firms pitch already, but to tell the truth, I haven’t been impressed. I’m looking forward to hearing your take.”

  “Yup. Great. See you then!”

  I hang up, and grip my phone. No pressure or anything. But this is when I always pull it together, I remind myself firmly. Whether it’s cramming for a mid-term on two hours’ sleep, or pulling off the deal of a lifetime—something special happens when my back’s against the wall. And this is no different.

  I think of Marcie, sunning herself on a boat somewhere. She has no idea the lengths I’m going to in order to prove myself to her right now, but in just a few weeks she’ll come back happy and tanned—and ready to sell.

  Sail on, Marcie. Sail right on.

  I make a few more calls to chase some outstanding offers, then head through to the back delivery dock, where Declan and Will are talking. I don’t want to interrupt anything, this is Will’s big thing, but I’m dying with curiosity at how it’s going. When I see the smile on his face, talking animatedly about one of the chairs, I feel a huge wave of relief.

  “Hey.” He looks up and sees me, and beckons me over. “Declan’s going to take everything.”

  “And whatever else you can get me,” Declan adds, looking admiringly at the pieces. “I already have a couple of designers in mind, they’re going to flip. Don’t let him out of his workshop,” he says to me, mock-stern. “I want him working around the clock.”

  I laugh, sliding an arm around Will’s waist. “What happened to escaping the rat race and taking things easy?” I tease.

  Declan snorts. “That was before I had my commission all lined up.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Will rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s happy. “I’ll see what I can do. Another couple sets of the chairs, and two more tables?”

  “Or how about one more set, and you just charge double?” I add sweetly.

  They both laugh. “I like her,” Declan says approvingly.

  Will squeezes me close. “Best business woman I know,” he says, and kisses my forehead.

  “So, are we drinking to celebrate?” I ask. “I want to hear all about Will’s embarrassing past,” I tell Declan. “Drunk escapades, crazy ex-girlfriends, the works.”

  I feel Will tense again, then Declan sighs. “Sorry, I just had an appointment come up, I won’t be able to get away, after all.”

  “Oh,” I say, disappointed. “Another time then.”

  “For sure.” Will quickly shakes Declan’s hand. “It was great seeing you, we’ll catch up properly next time.”

  “You can count on it,” he agrees. “Now get to work!”

  I wait until Declan is inside again, then throw my arms around Will’s neck. “I told you so,” I tease, kissing him lightly. “I said your designs were amazing.”

  He grins back, hands sliding over my hips. He seems more relaxed now, and I guess it’s because he’s not trying to make a sale. “OK, OK . . .” he agrees, “You know everything.”

  “Damn straight.” I kiss him again. “Even if Declan can’t come, we should celebrate. I know the perfect spot.”

  “Sure thing.”

  We hop in his truck, and I direct him through the traffic and across town. “Why does this look familiar . . . ?” Will asks, after we park on a non-descript street.

  “You’ll see.” I take him to the corner store, and pick out a cheap bottle of wine and a pack of paper cups. Then I lead him around the corner, and down the next street. “This is the spot, right . . . here,” I declare, stopping on the curb. To the outsider, there’s nothing special at all: we’re outside a row of office buildings, with cars parked bumper-to-bumper and pedestrians walking past.

  Will looks around, confused for a moment. Then his face spreads into smile, realizing why I’ve brought him here. “This is where we met.”

  “Yup.” I screw off the cap on the wine, and pour into the cups he’s holding. “I know it’s not exactly an anniversary,” I add, feeling a little self-conscious. Lord knows I don’t do sappy romantic gestures, but this time I couldn’t resist. “But it’s where it all began. You, me, a lost pair of keys . . .”

  “And a pretty pissed off cop,” Will adds, grinning.

  “To new beginnings,” I say, raising my cup in a toast.

  “To us,” he says softly, and suddenly, my chest clenches with the meaning of it. Because this is the beginning, the first time I’ve ever looked at the face across from me and wanted there to be so much more. A future for the two of us, built day by day. I’m not planning on forever just yet, and I know, this has only just begun, but I know without a doubt that William Wyatt Montgomery means more to me than any man has before—and maybe ever will again.

  I love him.

  I take a gulp of wine, not ready for that particular conversation, not just yet. I give him a bright smile instead. “Did you ever guess that when you stopped to help that damsel in distress, you’d wind up here?”

  “Never in a million years.” Will steps closer, reaching to bring his free hand to my cheek. I see something mirrored in his eyes, that same bright wonder I’m feeling now. “And they say crime never pays.”

  I smile, feeling weirdly choked up. I meant this as a fun gesture, but now I can feel the emotion swelling behind my teasing words, threatening to pull me under.

  “Listen,” Will starts, looking away. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  I take another gulp of wine, panicking he’s about to share his feelings with me. Luckily, my phone buzzes with another text from Eva.

  Just landed! See you tonight.

  “It’s getting late!” I exclaim, glad for the distraction. “We better hit the road if I’m going to make it in time for girls’ night.”

  Will exhales, then gives me a wry smile. “Those pillow fights won’t wait.” Will downs the rest of his cup and tosses them in the trash. He slings an arm around my shoulder, and I happily snuggle closer, strolling back to the truck. Was it just a couple of months ago I was kissing him in the rain, torn between rushing away and never letting go?

  I’m lucky the universe intervened and delivered him to my door. Otherwise I might never have discovered what it felt like to be wrapped in the safety of his embrace, and feel the delicious flutter of anticipation, thinking of the nights to come. I would be alone—content in my life, sure, but nowhere near as happy as this.

  “Thank you,” I say, tilting my face up to his.

  “What for?”

  “For everything,” I say, nestling closer. “For being you.”

  The drive home slips by, easy with chat and laughter, and long silences that feel so natural, it’s like I’ve known him for years. It’s twilight by the time we cross the bridge and make it to the county line.

  “Wait, I think I left my day planner at your place,” I say, remembering. “Can we stop by and pick it up? I need to make some calls tomorrow.”

  Will turns off the highway. “That’s dangerous territory, going anyplace near my bed.” He flashes me a smoldering look, and I groan.

  “I wish, but I’m running late as it is. Eva will be back soon.”

  “So? You’d be amazed what I can do with five minutes.”

  I laugh. “Well, in that case . . .” Will suddenly hits the gas, and we fly over the bumpy track, winding through the trees. I shri
ek with surprise, then laugh, hanging onto the door strap.

  “That buys me another thirty seconds,” he says, pulling up outside with a screech of the tires. “Get your ass inside and get naked before I—”

  He stops.

  “What?” I ask, but he’s already flung open the driver’s door and is out of the truck, striding across the yard to where a woman is waiting on the front porch.

  A beautiful woman, with glossy brown hair and red lips, wearing a sophisticated dress and heels, daintily holding a leather handbag.

  Something drops in my stomach, and I feel my skin prickle with a bad, bad feeling. Still, I force myself to open the passenger door and climb down, slowly walking across the yard. Will is gesturing angrily, in low heated conversation, but he falls silent when I get close enough to listen; his hands jammed in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the dusty porch.

  My heart beats faster.

  “Will?” I ask, trying to sound calm. “Do you want to introduce me to your friend?”

  Up close, she’s even more gorgeous than I thought: model-perfect with blue eyes and pale skin, so chic and put-together in her red dress, it makes me wish I was wearing something other than my cut-offs and a plain shirt.

  His sister, I tell myself desperately. He has a younger sister. Who else would show up like this?

  Will clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says, so low I almost don’t catch it. Then he finally meets my eyes, and my heart drops for real this time to see the guilty expression in those steady hazel depths.

  “Who is she?” I ask, trying like hell to keep it together. But it’s like I’m watching from outside myself, hurtling towards the edge of a cliff, with no way to stop or slow down. “Will, what’s going on?”

  The silence is agonizing. Will opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say a word, the woman steps forward, giving me a brisk smile. “I apologize. Where are my manners? I’m Helena Carpenter, a pleasure to meet you.”

  I shake her hand numbly, still confused. “Delilah.” I look to Will again. “Who is she?”

  “She’s nobody.” Will’s voice is harsh, and I see Helena flinch at his words. “She’s leaving now.”

  Helena stands her ground. “Just listen to yourself,” she says to him. “Everyone’s worried about you. All our friends, the people at your job. You can’t just shut us out. What about our apartment, all your stuff, our whole life together?”

  “I don’t want it.” Will’s jaw is clenched, but my head starts spinning.

  Friends. Apartment. Life together.

  She turns back to me, looking regretful. “I’m sorry you’ve wound up in the middle of this, clearly William hasn’t been telling the whole truth.”

  “Dee—” Will takes a step towards me, looking desperate, but he can’t reach me before Helena lands the knock-out punch to my heart, the last words I ever expected to hear.

  “I’m Will’s fiancée.”

  Seventeen.

  Will

  It only takes two seconds. Two seconds for my new beginning to shatter, and the life I’ve been building here to crumble to ash.

  “Ex-fiancée,” I correct her desperately, but it’s already too late. I see the words hit Delilah like a bullet, each one tearing through the connection we’ve built, the lazy afternoons learning about her life, and the hot, carnal nights claiming her body for my own.

  None of that matters anymore. Not now she knows the truth.

  Pain flashes across Delilah’s face and I feel it too, ripping me up from the inside out. But I don’t have time to go to her, to even try and explain, before she shuts it all down and pastes on a wide, bright smile, so fake it makes me ache.

  “Wow, you’re right, I guess there’s a lot he didn’t tell me.” Dee won’t even look at me; she’s still smiling at Helena. “I’ll leave you two in peace then. Lovely to meet you.”

  “And you.” Helena smiles back. The two of them are acting so sweet and civil, it makes me want to break something. But I guess I already did that, judging by the look on Delilah’s face.

  She turns to leave, but fuck, I can’t just let her walk away.

  “Dee—” I catch her arm, needing her to listen, but she shakes me off with a sharp gesture and just keeps walking. Not looking at me, not turning back for a second. She gets in her car and drives away, and just like that, the best thing that ever happened to me is nothing but dust on the old dirt road.

  Fuck.

  The truth crashes through me. The sight of her leaving. God. What have I done?

  This is what I was afraid of, deep down. That sooner or later, the past would rear its ugly head. The shadows I’ve been ignoring, praying to god they would just fade away of their own accord. And they did. Every day with her, my past receded, until it felt like some other life, belonging to some other man, hundreds of miles away. Barely a memory.

  Still, I should have told her. I even came close, earlier today, but then the moment was gone. Damn, I should have told her everything, right from the start!

  But I didn’t. I failed her, and now there’s no going back.

  “Will?” Helena’s voice comes. “Who was that girl?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I turn on her, and it takes everything I have to keep my voice even. My anger contained. Still, she flinches back.

  “You wouldn’t talk to me, you wouldn’t even take my calls. What was I supposed to do, William? You can’t just shut me out.” Helena’s voice cracks. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

  I take a deep breath and look at the woman I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.

  “I don’t know, finding you fucking some other guy might have something to do with it.”

  Helena’s pretty face crumbles, and then she’s crying, like she has any right at all. “I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” she sobs, “it should never have happened, but we both made mistakes. It wasn’t just me. Our relationship was broken, but now we need to fix it—”

  “No!” I interrupt, past breaking point. “You don’t get to put this on me! You’re the one who cheated!”

  “But can you blame me?” Helena cries, tears filling her wide eyes. Once I would have done anything to keep those tears from falling, but not anymore. “You were never there,” she insists. “You were always at work, or in your stupid studio, it was like you couldn’t even make time for us. You never put me first!”

  “Put you . . .” I echo, staring at her in disbelief. “Who the hell do you think was paying for that fancy apartment, all those trips? I was working for our future together, the life you wanted. At least, I thought you did.”

  “I did. I still do!!” Helena insists, tearful. She comes closer, grabbing my hands, trying to make me look at her. “It was a mistake, I promise, it’ll never happen again. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. We can go to therapy, baby, whatever you want. But we have to fix it, William. This is our future. You can’t just give up on us.”

  I look at her, and just as quickly as it came, my anger fades away. I spent years of my life with this woman, but standing here, she’s a stranger to me now.

  “I already did,” I answer, pulling away. “It’s over. We could talk about it forever, and it still wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t love you, and I never will again.”

  I’m not saying it to be cruel, even though I used to imagine a hundred ways to make her pay. It’s simply the truth.

  I don’t love her anymore, and the love we did have . . . it’s nothing compared to what I know love can be like now.

  Helena’s face changes. “Is this about her? That Delilah girl?”

  “No,” I tell her honestly. “You broke us all on your own.”

  I left this part of my life dead and buried back in New York City. But what I risk losing now, that’s something else, something far more precious than I could ever have imagined. I hurry down the steps and across the yard.

  “Wait, Will!” Helena’s voice cracks. “Where are you going?” />
  “Where I’m supposed to be.” I wrench my truck door open.

  “But, what about me?” Helena swallows, the truth dawning in her eyes. There’ll be no dramatic reunion, no happy ending to our broken, used-up story. “You can’t just leave me here! This place is practically derelict, and there are no cabs for like, fifty miles!”

  “Do whatever you want.” I reply shortly. “Stay here for the night. I won’t.”

  I drive away before she can argue, leaving her stranded there on the porch. I’m not worried. Helena can take care of herself, even if she loves to pretend otherwise. If I’m honest, I even liked that about her: I felt needed, like I was the center of her world. She had a way of making you feel like the most important guy in the room, that just walking in with her on my arm marked me out as special, a guy who’d really made it.

  I know, it’s bullshit. We were building the façade of a real relationship, with nothing deep down beneath the surface. And the longer I spent with her, the more I felt like that—empty inside. She was perfect, we both belonged together, everyone said, so what was wrong? I tried my best to do all the right things, shower her with gifts and trips and everything else you’re supposed to, but it was like acting a role, reading lines that don’t mean a thing. I was so damn stuck, I couldn’t see a way out: going through the motions at work, then stepping into a whole new performance at home. Looking back now, I can see, we were heading off the edge of a cliff, and the only question was, would I wake up in time to see the fall?

  And now I’ve made the same mistake all over again: buried my head in the sand and avoided the truth until it’s too late to change a thing.

  Please don’t let it be too late.

  I pull up outside Delilah’s, my heart thundering with panic now. She has to listen, she has to give me a chance to explain. I stride up the front path and ring the bell.

  Silence.

  I knock, louder. “Delilah?” I call. “Dee, please, you’ve got to let me explain!”

  The door suddenly flies open, and then she’s standing there, but it’s not her. Not really. There’s no hint of laughter in her eyes, no teasing grin on her sweet lips. She stares at me icily, her arms folded tight across her chest.