by Lucy March
Up until that moment, when I thought about my future, I never saw … anything. Just a flat expanse of pretty much the same life: alone, predictable, under my control. Never loving anyone, and never allowing anyone to love me. I had always been okay with that. It had always seemed like the only way life could work, and I’d always felt kind of sorry for the people who tried to make it work any other way. Too much pain, not enough benefit.
But watching Leo teach that imaginary kid to ride that bike changed me, in an instant. I wanted that life. I wanted it so bad that it felt like my insides were reaching out for it, pushing me into a place I didn’t think existed. I fell asleep dreaming about that world, and believing for the first time in my life that it might actually be possible.
* * *
Even now, I don’t entirely know what I was thinking. I woke up at two in the morning. Leo was fast asleep, and I slid easily out of bed without waking him up. All I meant to do was sit at the table, look over the information, see if maybe I’d catch a useful detail in there somewhere. When I picked up my car keys and slid outside, even then, I wasn’t really intending to confront Desmond. I was just jumpy, and I thought a drive might soothe my nerves. It wasn’t until I pulled into the little parking lot at the back of Grace and Addie’s B&B that I realized I was doing exactly what I’d intended all along.
“I see we have something else in common,” Desmond said as he stepped aside to let me into the foyer. “We are both night owls.”
I didn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem concerned about my lack of response.
“My hostesses have abandoned the place to my care,” he said, leading me through the foyer to the living room, “and they were kind enough to leave a fully stocked bar behind.”
I followed him to the living room, sat down on the pink antique chaise longue, and set Tobias’s folder beside me while Desmond dipped behind the bar.
“Thanks. I’ll pass.”
Desmond shrugged as he poured himself two fingers of whiskey. “Surely you don’t think I’d dose you with something now?”
“Surely I do, jackass,” I said.
Desmond snorted out a laugh. He bent down, pulled a bottled water out of the mini fridge, and walked over to me.
“It’s perfectly safe,” he said. “As you can see, it’s got one of those little pull-tabs at the top. No tampering.”
He held it out to me. I kept my hands in my lap.
“As you wish, m’lady.” He set the water on the coffee table and downed a sip of his whiskey before settling in the Queen Anne chair opposite me. “I see you’ve brought some reading material with you. Anything interesting?”
“Yes,” I said, “Mr. Benedict.”
He hesitated mid-sip to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry. Is that supposed to have me shaking in my Wellies? I expected all that to come up when you ran the background check on me before you started buying my product.”
I lowered my eyes, and he chuckled. “No background check? Tsk, tsk. For a woman of the world, Ms. Easter, you can sometimes be horribly naive. Although I must admit I’m pleased to have inspired such trust in you.”
“I don’t care about your name, and I don’t care about your revoked medical license.” I opened the folder and pulled out the page with the picture of him and Alysia. “I care about her.”
His head angled a bit to look at the picture, and whatever light was in his eyes deadened. “Yes. I see.”
“You loved her,” I said quietly.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine. They were cold and hard, almost inhuman. “I did, yes.”
“And you’re the reason she killed herself,” I said.
He blinked slowly, almost as if something inside were fighting the effects of the potion. “Yes.”
“You know what I find interesting?” I said. “In that picture, you’re a man in love. I’ve seen them before, I know the look. But now, you look at the picture and there’s nothing. No expression at all, as if you have no feelings about essentially killing the woman you love. How’d that happen, Des?”
He reached out and flicked the paper over, then took a deep breath. “You know exactly how that happened. You’ve felt it.”
“I remember,” I said. “When I saw Leo at the wedding, it felt like I was trying to move through mud. When I was with him, right up until it wore off, I felt kind of dead inside. It took energy and effort to feel connected to anything when he was around. Is that how it is for you?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What is this about?”
I picked up the picture of the two of them and studied it. “I almost didn’t recognize you when I saw it. There’s something missing now, like you’ve hacked out a piece of your soul. Is that how Anwei Xing works when you use the root?”
“Am I supposed to be impressed by your cleverness?” he said, a small curl of a smile on his face even as his eyes remained unamused. “I will gladly applaud if it’s what you’re searching for. You’ll forgive me; my ability to read social cues has suffered a bit under the influence.”
He lifted his glass, and I could see the tiniest shake in his pinkie as he drank. The Anwei Xing was working, but there was an edge zone to it, a small area where he could touch the feelings about Alysia that he was trying to bury. I couldn’t stop myself; I poked.
“How do you think Alysia would feel,” I said carefully, “if she knew that even her death didn’t stop you from killing other women?”
The slap came so fast, it wasn’t until I hit the floor that I even realized I’d been hit. I blinked to get my bearings, and at first all I was able to process was how clean the hardwood on Addie’s living room floor was. No dust bunnies under the couch. Amazing.
Desmond sat in his seat, patiently waiting for me to push myself up. I got up on shaky legs and stood before him. He raised his eyes to me.
“When I was young, I accidentally hit a girl in the mouth with my elbow during a football game.” He glanced at me. “Our football, not yours. Anyway, I suffered over that for days. Fifteen years old, and I cried myself to sleep that night because I’d hit a girl by accident. And now … here I am.” He looked at his hand, the back of which was red from the force with which he’d just hit me, and his eyes were lit with amazement. I touched my lip and winced, then drew my hand back; there was blood on my fingertips.
“It’s sort of a miracle, isn’t it?” he went on. “To be free from all that debilitating guilt, all that horrible self-loathing? You also lose something, to be certain. The kind of simple joy other people have when watching children at play, or littering their Facebook pages with captioned pictures of cats. The joy associated with those first moments when love blooms.” He smiled at me, as though we were friends. “Well, I guess you don’t have that, either. Love is nothing but pain for you, isn’t it?”
The shock from being hit was beginning to wear off, and I was able to catch my breath and speak again. “No. It’s not just pain.”
“No? It certainly seemed that way that night in my apartment, when you came to me, crying, begging me for the smallest taste of what I have every day.” He raised his brow at me. “And if I recall correctly, love was pain for you the night you took me to your bed, just on the chance that it would help you forget him for a few moments.”
“Don’t bring him into this,” I said, and Desmond’s eyes lit with fury as he slammed his fist down on the table.
“You brought her into it!” he shouted, and bolted up from his chair. Instinctively, I cringed away from him, and he stopped.
“Good,” he said. “I see I’ve gotten my message across. I mean business, and I guarantee you, I’m the party willing to get the bloodiest here.”
“Only one of us is bloody right now,” I said, “and I’m still standing here, aren’t I?”
He held my eyes for a moment, then his face broke out in a cold, dead smile. “Yes, you are.” He glanced back at the papers on the table. “I’m not sure what it was you wanted out of this meeting, but I do hope you got it.”
&
nbsp; “Not yet.” I moved forward and put my hand on his arm. “I’m here to give you a message.”
There was a quizzical look in his eyes, and his nose twitched a bit before he realized that the burning smell in the room was, in fact, his shirtsleeve. He jerked his arm away and batted at the flames on his arm.
“Let me make myself clear here,” I said. “I have power, as much power as my mother, and it’s all under my control.”
He batted away the last of the fire and looked at me. “That’s your message, is it?”
“No,” I said. “The message is subtext, but I see you’re a little preoccupied, so let me state it outright: If you ever raise a hand to me again, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
“I see,” he said. “And who will keep your friends alive when I’m gone?”
“I’ve got a bit of a temper, Desmond. You don’t want to bet your life on the hope that I’ll have time to think about that before it gets the best of me.”
I leaned over to grab the folder off the chaise when he moved closer and put one hand on my arm. I straightened slowly, my entire body tense, waiting for the attack, but it didn’t come.
“For someone with so much concern for consequences,” he said, his voice cold in my ear, “you certainly seem to disregard them with vigor.”
“Screw you, Desmond,” I said and walked out, shutting the front door quietly behind me before going out to my car and driving in dazed circles around town until the sun rose.
Chapter 16
Leo was sitting at the kitchenette table dialing a number into his cell phone when I walked in. He hung up and stood, smiling. Based on the pillow crinkles on his face and the way his hair was still mussed on the left side, I guessed he’d woken up pretty recently.
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice still creaky. “I was just calling you to—”
His expression went dark as he looked at me, and his voice was strong and serious when he spoke again.
“What happened?”
I dumped my keys on the counter. “I went to see Desmond.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
I turned to the cabinet and pulled out the ceramic canister I kept my coffee in. “Because I didn’t want to see him with you.”
“Because I would have stopped you,” he said. “Because it was stupid.”
He moved close and touched my chin, and I swatted his hand away. I pulled the top of the canister off. “Crap. I’m out of coffee.”
“Hey.” He took my shoulders in his hands and turned me to face him. I could see the anger in his eyes and I could feel my face crumple as the tears filled my own. Leo’s expression went from anger to concern in a split second, and he pulled me into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I held on to him. “It was that stupid little boy,” I said, sniffling into his shoulder.
“All right,” he said patiently, then added, “What little boy?”
“You were teaching him how to ride a bike, and you were so happy.”
Leo pulled back a bit and looked at me, his hands feeling my head through my hair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you hit your head?”
“No,” I said, and gave a little laugh-sob. “I saw him. In our future. Last night, you asked me to imagine…”
I trailed off, and Leo’s expression softened as he smiled at me. “Oh.”
“And I woke up at two in the morning and I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about that little boy and I want that boy. I want that life, with you, and I couldn’t stand the thought of just waiting here for Desmond to take that away, so I went over there and I pissed him off and he hit me, which was predictable because … you know … crazy.” I sniffled, glanced down at the empty coffee canister, and started crying again. “And now I’m out of coffee.”
“It’s all right.” He pulled me into his arms again and kissed the unbruised side of my face. “I will make sure you have coffee, every day, for the rest of your life, okay?”
He held me tight and I wrapped my arms around his neck. Deep in the back of my head, I heard the old me saying, It’s too good to be true, don’t count on this, it won’t work, but I shushed her. She was stupid. She was the reason things never worked, and I wasn’t going to let her ruin my life. Not anymore.
I pulled back and looked up at him. “I’m really sorry. I would want to kill you if you did what I did.”
“I don’t get to tell you what you can and can’t do,” he said, his voice resigned. “I just ask that you remember that if you get hurt, I get hurt. Okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll remember. I swear. No more stupid stuff. I promise.”
He laughed. “I can’t expect that. I just…” He let out a huff, and I noticed that his eyes were a little reddened around the edges, and my heart cracked.
“God, I’m so sorry, Leo,” I said. “I’m so—”
“Marry me?” he said, his voice so rough and cracked with emotion that I almost didn’t hear him.
“What?” I asked.
“Marry me,” he said again, his voice stronger, and there was no question in his tone this time.
“Leo,” I said, a little too stunned to say more than that, and he swiped at his eyes.
“I know I’m supposed to do this better,” he said. “I know I should plan it, and there should be a nice dinner and a ring and getting down on one knee and enough wine to make you just stupid enough to say yes, but—”
“Yes,” I said.
“Wait, I need to say something to you first—”
“Yes,” I said again.
He took my hands firmly in his. “Let me finish? Please?”
“Yes,” I said, and grinned, and he gave me a why-I-oughta look, but then took a breath and went on.
“You don’t have to say yes now,” he said, enunciating carefully to get his point through my thick head. “There are a lot of things going on, and everything would be hellishly confusing even without all that, but I don’t want anything to happen without you knowing that I love you and I want to marry you and someday, I’m going to do this right. I need you to know that.”
I waited a moment, then said, “Are you done?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“Yes,” I said.
His face broke out in the widest grin I’d ever seen. “Really?”
“Yes! God, what does a girl have to do to accept a marriage proposal from you? You want it in skywriting? Then I gotta make a few calls.”
He pulled me into his arms and lifted me up and kissed the side of my face. I held on to him tight, loving him more than I ever thought possible, and feeling happier than I ever had in my life. He set me down and kissed me gently on my bruised mouth, then pulled back and smiled at me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “I’m also going to drop on the floor if I don’t get some coffee.”
“All right,” he said. “CCB’s?”
“Awesome.”
I reached for my keys on the counter, but he swiped them into his hand before I got to them. “I’m driving. Tired driving is just as dangerous as drunk driving, and you’ve been taking enough chances lately.”
“All right,” I said, my voice sweet and accommodating. “See how I’m learning to compromise? It’s like I was born to be married.”
He gave me a wry smile, and then my back pocket buzzed. I pulled out my cell phone and swiped to answer the call.
“Hello, Mrs. North speaking,” I said, and giggled.
There was dead silence on the other line, then a sandpapery southern voice said, “Yeah, I think I got the wrong number.”
“No!” I said quickly. “Cain! Are you here? Are you in town?”
“Easter? That you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”
“I’m just turning off the highway. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said and smiled at Leo, who grinned back at me. “I’m just happy.”
“Happy
?” he said, as if he didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
“And in dire need of coffee,” I said. “Meet me at CCB’s, ten minutes.”
I hung up and took Leo’s hand. “This is your day, babe. You’re about to meet a bona fide southern conjurer.”
* * *
Neither Clementine nor Liv was working at CCB’s that morning. Betty was running the crowded front counter and the day waitress, Brenda, was flying through the dining room, so I just nabbed a booth in the back where we could keep an eye out for both Cain and, just in case, Desmond. Leo and I sat together on one side of the booth, facing the empty seat.
“God, I swore I would never sit like this,” I said, rolling my eyes at us both. “It’s so dorky.”
Leo smiled. “You want me to sit over there?” He motioned to the other side with his chin.
“Shut up,” I said, grinning, and took his hand in mine.
We had just gotten our coffee when the bells on the door jingled and a tall, scraggly, dirty-blond southern boy in dire need of a haircut walked in.
“There he is,” I said, and waved. Cain noticed me and ambled over, as much as a guy could amble in a crowded waffle house at breakfast time.
“I can never get used to this town,” he grumbled as he slid in across from us. “There’s a lady up at the counter wearing a damned fedora.”
“Her name is Filly Jones,” I said. “She was my preschool teacher.”
Cain gave me a dead look. “Filly Jones. You shitting me?”
“It’s small-town charm,” I said. “Shut up.”
Cain gave me a one-sided smirk—his way of saying it was good to see me—and then he held out his hand to Leo.
“Cain Taggert,” he said.
“Leo North.” They shook and Leo added, “I’m Stacy’s … um…” He looked at me and we exchanged an entire conversation in a glance, in which we both agreed that we wouldn’t tell anyone we were getting married before we told Liv.
