She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1)

by Jessica Calla

  “You…we…don’t have to deal with it now.” He smiles when I say “we.” I love the sound of that word. “Let’s get through today. Do what you need to do for Gram, call your family, do whatever needs to happen. I’ll go back to Sheridan and straighten things out there. Then I’ll come back and help you. What do you think?”

  “I think it sucks. I want you to stay with me. I need you. Stay,” he whispers, his lips pressing into my neck.

  As tempting as it sounds, I slap him away. “Your uncle-father is in the next room waiting for you to eat breakfast. The sooner we get today started and finished, the quicker we’ll be back in this room. Now, walk me to the train.” I use my demanding voice so it’s clear that I’m serious, but then I add, “You horny, lazy bum,” which makes him smile.

  As we head toward the train in the crisp New York morning, the cool fall air chills us. Last night, I’d forgotten the world existed. The day is gloomy, and I wrap myself in my sweater as we walk.

  I try not to think about Ben too much in my last minutes with Chase, but I can’t stop the script being written in my head. It just sort of happened. I do love you, but I love him differently. I’m so sorry. None of the words sound right, but I’m not sure any words will fit. I pursued Ben relentlessly without giving myself a chance to heal from Justine, to see what I really wanted. I spent years chasing and manipulating Ben, and when I finally break him and convince him to be with me, I fall in love with someone else. Worse, I cheat on him—big time.

  Chase and I approach the train station where we met and walk down the stairs to the empty platform. Neither of us cares that we missed the train.

  I pull Chase to me, using him to keep warm. I want to feel him close. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother. I know we got distracted last night, but I hope you know that I really am sorry. She was a good lady. You were lucky to have each other.”

  Chase kisses my forehead, squeezing me to his side. “She really liked you.” He sighs and shivers in my arms. “I have to admit, I feel lucky I got to say goodbye. I put her through a lot over the years. I’m glad I got the chance to apologize and tell her how much I appreciate her.” He leans back to look into my face, and his eyes lock onto mine. “As for our distraction last night, you know you turned the worst day of my life into the best night of my life. You’re magical.”

  “Not magical. Just in love.” I kiss him. Even though I’m trying to comfort him, his long arms comfort me instead. I don’t want to let go.

  As if on cue, the sound of the approaching train grows louder and louder. “Juliet,” Chase says seriously. “Promise me you’ll come back as soon as you can. Today. Please?”

  “I promise, Sexy Train Man.” I kiss him one last time as the train’s brakes screech next to us.

  I walk backward toward the train and hold his hands until I have to let go. I step onto the train and watch Chase as the doors slide shut. “Come back,” he mouths. He smiles weakly and I watch him as we pull away, until I can no longer see him or our station.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chase

  Between Juliet at Sheridan with Ben, arranging my grandmother’s funeral, and discussing parenting with Rob, my options for the day are equally terrible. I don’t want to think any of the three have to happen.

  Restless, I text Juliet.

  Miss you.

  She texts a smile face back immediately, and I wish I could kiss her through the phone. I try not to imagine her dumping Ben—Ben who is awesome, and perfect, and her entire reason for being at NJU. Suddenly, I feel the need to either drink or paint. Since it’s barely nine in the morning and I’m living the New Chase life, I choose painting.

  I pull a canvas out of my closet and set up my easel. I shut my eyes until I’m told what to paint and see Gram. But I can’t paint Gram, not yet.

  The last twelve hours with Juliet dance through my mind, and the colors come alive in my hands. I prepare my pallet and dab my brush in different colors, covering the canvas with long, sweeping strokes. Soon, her hair, her neck, her breasts, her lanky arms, her tiny waist, her hips, her long legs wrapped around me, her warmth, her smoothness, cover the canvas.

  A knock on the door pulls me out of my Juliet trance.

  Rob’s head appears around the door. “Hey.”

  I put down my brush. “Do we need to get moving with things?”

  “Not yet. Turns out our job won’t be so difficult.” Rob steps into my tiny room, made even tinier with my art supplies spread all over, and hands me a piece of folded paper. “Gloria planned everything when she found out she was terminal. She left a list of everyone we’d need to call, talked to the funeral home, bought a plot. She wrote this note saying she didn’t want us to have to do anything and that since she was stuck in bed all day, she figured she’d just do it herself.”

  I look at the paper. Dear Rob and Chase, it reads. My breath catches at the sight of her handwriting, and I can’t let myself read the remaining words. But I skim the note and touch the words with my fingers. It’s a list of her friends, her possessions, her wishes.

  “I already made a lot of the calls. Everyone’s said such nice things about her, and they’re all coming to the service tomorrow. She touched a lot of lives.”

  I put down my paints and wipe my hands. Rob moves toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. I just wanted to give you the letter. For another day.”

  He turns to leave, and I know I have to ask. I won’t be able to concentrate until we’ve had this dreaded conversation. “Wait, Rob.”

  He turns around in the doorway, and for the first time it dawns on me that I’m looking at my father. My father is standing in my doorway. “Did Gram say anything else to you? About me?”

  Rob pauses and tilts his chin. “We talked a lot about your art. Gloria convinced me to hang your ballerina paintings for Friday’s new artist night a few weeks ago. Said she wanted to see your work in the gallery. I took pictures for her. She made me promise not to tell you.”

  My portraits of Juliet. That must be how Juliet knows I paint her.

  Rob continues, “She definitely was your biggest fan. She told me about your past, too. We don’t have to talk about it now.”

  I don’t want to talk about it—not with Rob, not now, not ever, really. “Anything else?” He would have said something by now if he knew.

  “Mostly we hashed out our history and came to terms with the past, that kind of thing. Why?”

  I look at Rob’s face, an older, more tired version of my own, and can’t do it. I can’t tell him that I’m his. I still haven’t wrapped my own head around it. But the more I look at Rob the more scared I become. We have so much in common. Or we did until now. Post-Gram, as Juliet’s boyfriend, New Chase is attempting New Life Plan 2.0. But even though I think it, I can’t picture it happening as I look at Rob and see my predetermined fate.

  Rob’s waiting for my response. “No reason. Just curious.” Maybe I’ll never tell him.

  The doorbell rings and Rob disappears to answer it. I expect it’s the beginning of the parade of casseroles and condolences. Gram was always the first person in that parade when her friends’ families needed her.

  I check my phone again. Nothing from Juliet. Paulie and Alex texted—they’d heard about Gram’s funeral. Pooja texted a “thinking about you” message. As I text her back, there’s a knock on my bedroom door.

  Rob peeks his head in. “Someone’s here to see you.”

  For some reason I think, Juliet, but Rob opens the door wider, and Sara’s tiny frame appears before me.

  “Hey, Coop.” She leans against the doorway after Rob disappears, and I remember seeing her in the exact same place a million times before, with the exact same look on her face. Her big, blue, doe eyes always seem to want something from me that I can’t, or shouldn’t, give. “I heard about Gloria. I’m really sorry.”

  I remember our day together, when we said goodbye to the old “us.” I remind myself that Sara is trying to r
eform, like I am, and deserves the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks.”

  She steps into the room, and my body tenses, protective of the space I’d just shared with Juliet. She moves behind me and hugs my back, looking at the canvas over my shoulder. “Pretty,” she says.

  Her little, familiar arms wrapping around me release the demons that fly to my surface. Juliet isn’t coming back, I think. There’s no way I can keep a girl like her. I’m supposed to be with someone like Sara. Someone who knows and accepts my flaws. Juliet doesn’t know the real me. I shake my head and push the demons aside, although I let Sara hold me. “I’m really trying to be a different person,” I say.

  “I know. But I like the old you, too.”

  That’s the problem. Sara makes it too easy for me to slip right back into Old Chase.

  “I just wanted to pay my respects.” Sara lets go of me, and I breathe again. “I wanted to let you know I’m here if you need me. We’re different now, but we can still be friends, I hope.”

  “We can.” I don’t actually know if we can, but I don’t know what else to say.

  When Sara disappears, Rob checks on me. “The infamous Sara. You okay?”

  “Not really,” I answer truthfully. I need Gram, Juliet, a nap, and for this day to be over. I turn back to my canvas, and Rob seems to get the hint that I don’t want to talk. When I’m finally alone, I lay on my bed gripping my phone and willing myself to sleep.

  Juliet

  I pace in front of the door to Sheridan for close to an hour, holding my swipe card. I can’t seem to move any closer to the doorway. My phone buzzes with a text from Chase:

  Going to funeral home with Rob. Talk later?

  That’s what I need to focus on. In a couple of hours, the hard part will all be over, and I’ll be able to get on the train and go back to the city and Chase. Eventually, we’ll be able to smile and forgive ourselves and move on with our lives—Chase without his grandmother, and me without Ben.

  “Yeah, right,” I say aloud as I swipe my card. The door clicks open, but I don’t grab it. I pace instead. The phone buzzes again with a Pooja-esque text from Chase:

  You’re strong enough to get through anything.

  I smile at the phone and text him back:

  You, too. I love you. See you soon.

  I take a deep breath and swipe my card again. This time, when the door clicks open, I step through.

  Down in the basement I hear Frank and Ben yelling over the pounding of the treadmill. When Ben sees me, he hops off and gives me a sweaty hug. “Are you okay? How’s Chase?” His tone, his behavior…everything about Ben is sweet and perfect.

  I choke out a response, “He’s managing. How’s Pooja?”

  Frank yells over the whirring motor, “Better. She’s sleeping in your room. Rocco's with her.”

  Ben puts his arm around me and kisses my forehead. When he tries to reach my lips, I turn my head. I can’t let him kiss me, and I can’t yet find words. “You guys keep working out. I’m going to talk to Rocco.” I whisper to Ben, “I’ll find you later, okay?”

  “Are you all right?” he asks, and I can’t help but think about how, in a few minutes, he’s going to hate me. This may be the last time he looks to me with his warm brown eyes and asks me if I’m all right. What if he blames Chase, or goes back to Pennsylvania? What if he thinks I’m crazy? Or, worst of all, what if he has no reaction and lets me go without a fight?

  I sigh as he waits for my answer. I mentally replace Ben’s brown eyes with Chase’s deep blue ones. Knowing my next words will get me to Chase is the only way I’ll be able to hurt Ben. My stomach turns. All these years…all he’s done for me. Even though our relationship is new, Ben is the only history I have. How am I going to do this?

  I exhale and wuss out. “I’m fine. Later?”

  Ben touches my cheek, his eyes on mine. “Later.”

  When I turn to leave, I look back at him. He kicks Frank off the treadmill and climbs on again. A flood of memories overtake me: our homecoming date, parties and beer pong, stealing a dance at prom, sitting on the bus together for our freshman field trip. Since Justine’s death, Ben’s become a huge part of me, but I know now that that doesn’t mean we are meant for love. Before, I thought that’s why Ben and I were connected—because we were supposed to be forever. Now that I’ve met Chase, I can see what Ben and I are, and it’s not the same. Ben and I aren’t forever. Not that way. It’s Chase who holds my heart.

  I quietly open the door to room one and tiptoe in. Rocco is next to a sleeping Pooja, taking up most of the bed. He looks at his phone, points to the hallway, and climbs over her to join me. He closes the door behind him.

  “How’s it going?” I ask.

  “She just fell asleep. Listen. We’ve been looking into this stalker asshole. His name is Cameron Weston. Rodrigo did some cyber stuff, and it turns out there is a restraining order on him. Not that it means shit. We can’t figure out where the guy is.”

  “Did you call the campus police? I know they’re just a bunch of wannabe cops, but still, they must be trained in this sort of thing.”

  “They told us to call if he shows up. There’s nothing they can do at this point. I called her cousin to ask if he knew anything about the guy, where he is, or if the family ‘dealt with him’ when Pooh was in India.”

  “What'd he say?”

  Rocco shrugs. “He said that he assumed Pooja’s people took care of it, just like Pooja thought.”

  “Did she call her parents?”

  “She insists she doesn’t want to worry them. I asked the cousin to find out.”

  “What do you think? Is this guy is really going to show up?”

  “I don’t know, Anderson. I hope not, for his sake, because I’ll beat the shit out of him.” A vein in Rocco’s neck throbs. I have no doubt he’ll kill this guy if given the chance. “How’s Cooper?”

  “He’s dealing.”

  The door that leads to the hallway flies open and Maggie and Winston appear. “Hey, guys,” Winston yells.

  Rocco shushes them. “Pooja’s asleep. She had a rough night.” I’m impressed with how protective he is after only a short time knowing her. It’s like they belong together, like they were meant to meet here in the basement of Sheridan Hall.

  Maggie smacks Winston in the chest and whispers, “Is she okay? Megan told us about her dream. Do you think she’s really in danger?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m keeping an eye on her until either she loses this feeling or this asshole shows up,” Rocco says.

  “Well, let us know what we can do. Is Sunday night dinner still on tonight? Everyone’s coming. Well, except for Chase of course. How is he?” Winston asks me. It seems so natural for everyone to look to me for information about Chase, even Ben.

  “He’s not great. He said to thank you all for your condolences. I forgot about dinner. Do you think we should cancel?” I look to Rocco.

  “I think we should do it. We can tell the others what we know and to keep an eye out for this creep.”

  “Good,” Winston says. “Roc, can you drive us to the supermarket? Maggie and I can cook pasta or something easy.”

  “I can’t leave Pooja,” he says.

  “It’s okay, Roc.” I touch his arm. “I’ll stay with her. I’ll call you when she wakes up.” Rocco looks hesitant. “Really, we’ll be fine. Go take a break for a little while. You’ve been at her side all night.”

  Rocco hugs me. “Call me the second she wakes.”

  I fake salute him. “Yes, sir.”

  My floormates disappear, and I quietly open the door to room one. When I put my bag on my desk, Pooja rolls over and opens her eyes. “Dammit! Pooja, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She sits, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s okay. Where’s Roc?”

  “He drove Win and Maggie to the supermarket. I’m supposed to call him when you wake up.”

  “You think he’s overprotective?”

  “A bit, but it�
�s sweet.”

  “I can’t complain. How’s Chase?”

  “Well,” I say, as I flop onto my bed, “he’s not so great. He’s all over the place. He’s Chase. How are you? Any more dreams? Visions?”

  Pooja joins me on my bed. “No dreams or visions, but I feel him near, Juliet. I don’t know what to do.” I maneuver the comforter around us.

  “Pooja, I’m so sorry for what happened to you. You’re so strong.” I turn to look at her and make sure she’s with me. “I admire you. You got yourself out of a terrible situation in that desert. It could have been so much worse.” I wonder if Pooja knows I’m thinking of Justine.

  “There’s nothing to admire. I was lucky, and prayed, and my goddesses. That’s it. I should have done more.”

  “You did everything you could. You survived. As for now, there’s no way we’re going to let him get to you. Rocco’s here. I’m here. The police are on alert. Rodrigo is digging for information to find out where the jerk is.”

  Pooja rests her head on my shoulder. “You want to tell me why your colors are wonky?”

  “No. You have enough on your plate,” I say, even though I desperately hope she’ll insist on having the conversation.

  She doesn’t let me down. “I’d rather talk about you, if you don’t mind. What’s going on?”

  I groan and flop. “Chase. I barely know him. He has a past. He’s a mystery to me. He just lost the most important person in the world to him. He says he loves me, and I’m sure it’s true. He knows me and accepts me, flaws and all, but nothing about this feels…stable.”

  “But?” Pooja tilts her head. “When you follow your heart—”

  “I know he’s where I want to be. I love him.” I grin and twist the comforter around my fingers.

  “But you’re scared.”

  “I am? Why?” My eyes water so I blink to hold back my tears. “Why am I scared if I know Chase is the one?”