by Tara Brown
“Teen Wolf?” I chuckled. I’d been mistaken for Lydia too many times not to know the show. I’d never watched it, but I had looked up the actress and agreed we were incredibly similar.
“That’s the one! You that girl?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not her.”
“Related then?”
“I don’t think so.” I tried to meet his eyes politely and not stare at the street obsessively.
“Here ya go.” He handed me the coffee in a small mug and grabbed the pie from the dish, plating it with some whipped cream. There really was nothing better than whipped cream in England. Except maybe butter.
“Thanks.” I took my pie and coffee and sat in the window, staring out at everyone.
My first bite almost made up for the fact I was a complete failure in nearly everything. The second bite healed old wounds and filled up dark shadows with light. I closed my eyes and sighed into the bite, savoring the custard.
I lifted the coffee to my lips, sipping and moaning.
But as soon as I turned back to my pie, cutting off a huge bite and lifting it to my lips, I saw the eyes staring at me through the window.
They were his.
He was wearing his glasses again and one of those T-shirts I knew was dripping with irony, only I didn’t know how.
He said nothing, just stared, confused, and maybe angry. I didn’t know what to think of his response to seeing me. Nervous, I stuffed a huge piece of pie into my mouth as he wandered into the shop, taking up the entire doorway.
I waved, chewing and nearly choking on my pie.
“Cherry?” he finally said, still not nearly as pleased as I might have hoped.
My throat got thick with fear and tears I wouldn’t cry. I could barely swallow the bite of pie, wincing as it tried to kill me and ached the entire way through my esophagus. I took a gulp of coffee to push it down.
“What are you doing here?” His eyes narrowed behind the glasses. Mine burned like they wanted to fill with tears, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Eating,” I answered, not knowing what else to say.
“You came all this way for a slice of pie?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
“Well, you picked the right spot.” He hated me. It was so obvious I actually thought I might die.
“Appears so,” I whispered. I couldn’t speak.
His eyes darted to the people standing out front, older people. They were watching me through the window. “I’m here with my parents.”
“I know,” I whispered again like a frigging idiot.
“Did your family come?” He was just asking random questions now, maybe not sure how to break this off.
“No. I came alone.” I blinked, wishing a tear left my eye. “I’m staying at the Arden Hotel.”
“On Waterside?”
“Sure.” I nodded, not sure.
“Well, have a lovely time, Cherry. You should really go to Warwick Castle while you’re here.” His eyes spoke words he didn’t. They told me this was done, even if it was hurting him for whatever reason. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to say things that he wasn’t going to say.
He walked away, and when his parents asked him who I was, he glanced back, and he lied. He said no one.
I was no one to him.
My throat burned, aching for release. I got up, leaving my coffee and my pie behind. I thought the man selling the coffee called out to me, but I might have imagined it. I couldn’t hear anything.
I turned away from the direction Ashley had walked, and wandered off.
My heart cracked again. This time the damage was substantial. I blinked and something changed. The fire in my throat didn’t subside, but my vision blurred and my eyes burned. I blinked again and they flooded, filling with tears. I sobbed slightly, staggering down the busy road as tears of sadness came for the first time in a long time, at exactly the wrong time.
I got lost for a while, wandering aimlessly and crying, but eventually found my way back to my hotel, tired and unsure of what to do next.
So, I called my brother.
“Cherry?” he answered, sounding jovial.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“You okay?”
“He hates me, Andy. He hates me. I came all this way, and he won’t even see me.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” He gave me that honest brotherly truth, stinging me everywhere. “We fucked up.”
“But I thought—”
“What? That he was cool with you letting him go off and hook up with Cait for money? He’s a real person. I told you that we fucked up.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know how much you liked him. I wish we could take it all back. Even if Cait’s currently going off the deep end.”
“I don’t care. I hope she jumps straight in and drowns.” I hung up. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t want to hear another thing about Fling Club. I wandered up the stairs to my room and pressed my back against the closed door when I got inside.
I slid down the door and sobbed again.
Some of the tears were angry. Some of them were filled with self-hatred. Mostly they were tears of longing. How wrong and naive I’d been.
Here I was again: back at the worst summer in the history of summers.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
THE DO-OVER
Cherry
A noise startled me awake.
I blinked and checked my phone. Eleven at night. I’d fallen asleep and missed dinner. My stomach grumbled about the disservice I’d done it.
Certain I’d heard something, I got up, searching for the noise as it happened again. A knock at the door.
I assumed it was the butler, wondering if I wanted something to eat. They were probably used to Americans with jet lag.
I opened the door, stepping back when I saw Ashley standing there.
He grimaced when he saw my face. “You okay?”
“No.” I burst into desperate tears again. He rushed forward, pulling me into his arms. I closed my eyes and cried. “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.
“Cherry,” he muttered, pushing me back and closing the door. “Why did you come here?”
“Because I fucked up. I fucked up everything.”
“No.” He pulled back, staring down at me, wiping my tears from my eyes. “You didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t your fault.” He walked to the bed, sat down, and pulled me into his arms. “You can’t be here, though. We can’t be together.”
“Why?” I was ready to beg. I was ready to plead. I would have done anything for him to take me back. I realized I wanted the same thing Griffin had wanted: I wanted a do-over. I wanted a fresh start. I wanted a second chance at something new with the person I couldn’t get over. I understood Griffin’s desperation. Being in his shoes was hard, even if he’d wronged me. “Please, please don’t do this. I can change. I can be better.”
“No. Don’t say that. I’m crazy about you—you have to know that? I didn’t leave because I don’t have feelings for you.” He sounded emotional for a moment, then sighed and spoke as if revealing a terrible secret. “I left for a couple of reasons.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Firstly, Cait figured me out. Somehow, she recognized me from my MIT robot wars articles in the newspaper. She was going to ruin my parents’ jobs and reputations and go tell your parents who I was.” He took a deep breath like he was struggling. “And secondly, Cait’s got something on you. I had to leave or she would let it loose for the world to see. I left to protect you.”
“What?” I hadn’t seen this coming. At all. I should have but I didn’t.
“I don’t know, she showed me a tiny clip of some dirty sex video on her phone. And if I didn’t leave, it was going viral on top of my parents losing their jobs.”
I reached into my purse, pulling the lipstick out and snapping the back off. “This USB?” It felt foreign in my fingers, my numb fingers.
“I don’t know. Is it? How the fu—did you know all a
long?”
“No!” I gasped. “Of course I didn’t know she filmed me losing my virginity when I was fifteen.” I said it a little harsher than I intended.
“Jesus, Cherry. Why do you have it? Where did you get it from?”
“I stole it from her when I found her stash. She had over thirty of them.”
“What? She was filming all her friends having sex? What the hell kind of shit is this?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head; it was the truth. “Andy and Ella are still working on ruining her. I don’t care anymore. When you left, you broke my heart,” I whispered. “I didn’t realize how much of it I’d given to you. I’m an idiot and I will change. I promise you, I am so angry with myself over it.”
“I shouldn’t have taken the money, but I knew if I did you would think I was only there for the money, and you’d leave me alone. It was the only way I could think to keep you safe. I wasn’t prepared for the threats she made. And I’ve never been so out of my league. Your world is shiny and glitzy, but it’s terrifying too. No one’s ever blackmailed me before.”
“Well, you haven’t spent much time in the Hamptons. I still can’t believe Cait chased you off. Why does she care so much about me being happy?”
“I was starting to think she’s in love with you. When you were with the girls, sitting and drinking that night, and she dragged me to the guesthouse and showed me the clip on the laptop. She had it all set out. She said there was a lot more to it, and if I didn’t leave, she was posting it on the internet. She said I wasn’t allowed to see you or come back to the Hamptons or tell you anything. And that if she ever saw us together, she would post the video. She wanted you to think something happened between us.”
“So, no-nothing happened?” I gasped, realizing I was willing to let it go if he told me what I wanted to hear.
“Fuck no!” He was insulted again. “I’m not like you people. I don’t function like that.”
“I’m so sorry. I just assumed—”
“Assume one thing about me, and that’s all. One thing. That I’m crazy about you and would never do a single thing to hurt you. Unless it was in the name of protecting you.”
“So, she took you there to make me think you hooked up and then drove you off. It’s like she’s obsessed with making me miserable.”
“I don’t know. I tried to stay, but the day I left, she sent me a text threatening me again. I didn’t even know how she had my cell number. I left. Took the money and told Andy to tell you so you’d hate me. It would protect you until I could fix this.” He brushed my hair from my face, dragged his thumb under my eyes where I no doubt had tons of mascara. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I hate that I hurt you.”
“I get it.” I nodded, disgusted with the entire thing but not really as shocked as I ought to be. “I’m just sorry I dragged you into this.”
“You Hamptons girls have a weird idea of summer fun.”
“I have something important to say, though, like super important.”
“Okay.” His confusion turned to discomfort.
“I really am so sorry for dragging you into this, paying you to pretend you had no morals, and for making you act like one of us.”
“Cherry—”
“Let me finish.” I took a deep breath. “I’m also sorry for not introducing you to my parents as you were, for lying and making you something you weren’t to impress them, like you aren’t already impressive on your own. Because you are. You’re smart and funny and sexy and real. And I know being real doesn’t sound like much, but it is.” I blinked, hoping for tears to soothe my burning eyes, but apparently I was done with sad crying again.
“I honestly don’t care—”
“No.” I lifted my hands to his cheeks. “Please care. It’s important to me that you know you’re more than any of that other shit. You’re not some fling; you’re the exception to every rule I was ever given. And I don’t care about those. Not the way I care about you.” I bared my soul. All of it. I pulled open my ribs and exposed my heart.
“Then I forgive you. If you’ll forgive me for ever leaving instead of staying and fighting Cait.”
“I do.” And it was the truth. I forgave him for hurting me. His actions had been at least honorable. He’d wanted to protect me. I didn’t have the same reasoning.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I sniffled again even though I was tearless. I couldn’t believe Cait had done that to me, and that bothered me more than anything. How could I not believe she would screw me over this badly, after everything else she’d done? I was an eternal moron, always doubting how far she would take things or how dark her cruelty could turn.
But even with her efforts, her twisted games, I was here with Ashley. She hadn’t stopped anything. If anything, my feelings for him were stronger from having thought I’d lost him.
I snuggled in, letting his fingers trail up and down my back, rubbing.
It should have been a sexy moment, being reunited.
But it wasn’t.
I grabbed his hands and pulled him to my bed, stripped off my clothes, and dragged him into the cool sheets. I wrapped myself in him and the blankets and slept.
I was getting my second chance. My fresh start. My do-over.
There was still a half summer of fun to be had.
We’d wasted a lot of it, and I was going to cherish every second of the rest.
Chapter Forty
MEET THE PARENTS
Cherry
I rolled over, groaning when I saw the time. It was five in the morning.
“What are you doing?” he moaned, pulling me back into his arms. “Why are you awake?”
“Jet lag. I’ve been sleeping at weird times. Now I’m wide awake,” I grumbled.
“It’s five.” He snuggled back into a comfortable position. “That doesn’t even make sense in New York. It’s, like, one in the morning. Sleepy time.”
“Is it?” I rolled over, facing him. He kept his eyes closed as I slid my hands down his torso and grabbed his rigid cock. “Seems like maybe you’re awake too.”
“No, that’s my kickstand. Keeps me in bed.” His lips cracked into a grin.
“Fine.” I leaned in, kissing him softly as I squeezed a little. “I’ll let you sleep.” I let go and turned away, climbing out of bed and standing.
“Cherry,” he moaned. “You can’t squeeze it like that and then leave. It’s bad for it.”
“Is it?” I giggled.
“Yeah.” He held the blankets open for me to get in. “Come back to bed, and we’ll sort this out.”
“No.” I took a step away from him. “I think I’ll leave you like that. I like this look on you.” I hurried to my bag and pulled on shorts and a tank top. When I got to the door I slipped on flip-flops and sunglasses and grabbed my purse, fleeing before he could get up.
“Cherry!” he shouted as the door closed.
I laughed too hard at it all as I hurried down the stairs.
The sun was rising and the sky was reddish when I got outside. I wandered along the cobblestone road, checking out the red brick buildings and the Shakespeare center. The whole town was a combination of modern and ancient.
The renovations and new buildings carried the old ones, holding them up, like a great-grandparent dancing with a small grandchild.
It was beautiful.
I found a bench and sat, wondering if this was suddenly becoming a thing for me. Sitting on benches, confused and lost in life.
I thought about finishing my degree and where it was going to take me. I’d always assumed I would work in marketing until I married. That had been something of a plan.
My whole life goal had been to marry.
To chicken out and take the easy route, accomplish the things I was supposed to, whether I wanted them or not.
But sitting here in the cool morning air, in a foreign country filled with sites I hadn’t ever noticed, even as I walked past them, I realized how youn
g I really was. How immature I was. Ashley was worldly and driven. He knew what he wanted in life; he was striving toward that goal, working for something. He had a job lined up a year away. And here I was, stagnant and standing still.
He was right.
I saw it then and there.
I needed to bartend in Ireland.
Ride a train through foreign countries.
Find something that lit me up inside the way robot wars did him.
He hadn’t even told me about the robot wars, and yet I knew that the moment he did, he would look ten years old and more excited about that than anything.
“Why do you look like you’re plotting something?” He staggered down the road, interrupting my moment of contemplation.
“Tell me about robot wars and the lobster.” I smiled, waiting for it.
And as I predicted, his eyes lit up. “How do you know about that?”
“I met someone who says you’re famous in the robot world for a lobster pincher—?” I tried to recall what the guy had been yammering on about.
“Oh, man, that was the best one yet.” He came and sat beside me, his hands coming to life, mimicking the robot’s movements and the battles it had won. He said things like hydraulics and turbo, and I got lost in the details. He made weird noises, and for a second I felt like I was watching another Star Wars movie with Andy.
Seeing Ashley so excited about something confirmed everything I’d been thinking before he came and sat.
I needed to find what made me feel that way.
Not a guy.
Not a marriage.
Not someone else’s dreams.
Not a plan made up by my mother when I was a kid.
I needed a real, solid idea of who I was before I made this decision.
We spent the sunrise on robots and breakfast on NASA, and we strolled along the river talking about his parents. They sounded amazing. Not what I expected, but amazing nonetheless.
He walked us to a small cottage, holding a hand out. “And if you want to meet them, they’re in there.”
“In that shack?” I gasped.
“It’s our house from when I was little.” He laughed. “Mom was finishing her PhD, and Dad was commuting between here and London. He had to stay in a flat in London so this was all we could afford here.” He wasn’t embarrassed; he was just so genuinely honest about everything.
