"I don't," she said. "I mean, yeah, I've been doing some tutoring on the side. But I meant the job I'm supposed to be starting in the fall."
My heart went out to her. "Oh, no. Not your teaching job?" In September, Cami was supposed to begin teaching second grade at a wonderful little school not too far from Michigan State.
Cami blew out a long, shaky breath. "Yup. That's the one."
"What happened?"
"She decided not to retire."
"Who? The teacher you were replacing?"
Cami nodded. "That's the one."
"Oh, gosh. I'm really sorry. When did you find out?"
"Just yesterday."
I winced. "And you never said anything?"
Cami shook her head. "Nah, it was too depressing to mention."
I knew why, too. We'd been so focused on my problems that she hadn't wanted to add hers to the mix.
Now I felt really terrible. And guilty. And stupidly helpless.
I said, "Do you have any other offers?"
"Not yet." She tried to smile. "But I'm sure something will come up."
I wasn't so sure. Yes, Cami was truly amazing, but now she was getting a late start compared to everyone else. Probably, all the good jobs had been filled already.
At something in my expression, Cami said, "Oh, stop it. It'll be fine." With a smile, she said, "And if I don't get anything, I'll just go back to school, maybe work on my master's degree 'til next year."
The idea made sense. And yet I knew all too well how eager she'd been to get a full-time teaching job, along with the full-time paycheck to match.
By the time we started walking again, my mind was already churning, trying to think of some way to help.
For starters, I decided, I could try to be better company.
So that's what I did, all the way back, working like crazy to make up for how glum I'd been all week. And who knows, I might've been able to keep it up, too – if not for what I saw when we neared the crew house.
It was Brody's truck in the driveway.
Chapter 61
Arden
I found Brody in his bedroom, gathering up his stuff.
From the open doorway, I watched in agitated silence as he shoved wadded clothing into his duffle bag.
He was working hard and fast, as if the house were on fire or poisoned with toxic waste. He had to know that I was standing here. And yet, he kept on going, like I was utterly invisible.
Finally, I spoke up. "So you're leaving?"
He was wearing the same thing he usually wore – jeans and a T-shirt. His posture was stiff, and the muscles in his arms bulged as he turned to face me. In a tight voice, he said, "It's either me or you."
I bit my lip. His words stung even if they weren't exactly surprising.
When I said nothing in reply, he added, "I'll be gone in five."
"Five what?" I swallowed. "Minutes?"
"That's what I said."
"Actually, you didn't say. I mean, you could have meant five hours. Or five days." Or a lifetime.
Shit.
He said, "You knew what I meant."
"I know. I'm just saying…" My words trailed off into silence.
Crap. What was I saying? Okay, I fully realized that we couldn’t be together, not with him refusing to own up to what he'd done. And yet, my heart ached just the same.
Did his?
From the look in his eyes, I couldn’t be sure either way.
Stupidly, I finished by asking, "Do you care at all?"
His gaze darkened. "What do you think?"
"I think you're angry."
His tone grew sarcastic. "You think?"
"That's what I just said, isn't it?"
In my peripheral vision, I saw Cami watching from the far end of the hallway. When I gave her a worried glance, she pointed toward the front door and mouthed, "I'm going for a walk."
Oh, great. Now, on top of everything else, I'd forced her out on yet another fruitless walk. Poor Cami. Somehow, I'd need to make it up to her.
But I had just a few minutes with Brody, and I couldn’t afford to waste them. Plus, there was something I had to tell him before he heard it from someone else. "I ran into Mason today."
"Yeah. I heard."
"You did?" I shook my head. "When?" It couldn't have been too long ago, considering that barely an hour had passed since Mason had sped off, taking Willow with him.
Apparently, news traveled fast.
When Brody's only reply was a tight shrug, I reluctantly asked, "Did Mason say anything?"
"He might've." Brody's voice grew several degrees colder as he said, "But you're not fired, if that's what you're asking."
"I wasn't."
Stupid or not, I hadn't expected to be fired. But I had expected something, like for Mason to throw me off the roof or run me down with his car. And I wasn't even sure I was joking.
I asked, "Is Willow okay?"
"She's fine." And with that, Brody returned once again to his clothes. In less than a minute, he was done packing. When he zipped up his duffle bag, I felt a surge of raw, inexplicable panic.
This was happening way too fast.
And Brody still hadn't answered my question. I tried again. "So, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Care." Again, I felt myself swallow. "About us, I mean?"
He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and turned to fully face me. "You think I don't?"
"Honestly, I don’t know what to think." My stomach clenched. "I mean, you're obviously leaving." It was a useless thing to say. Not only could I see that he was leaving. He'd just told me so during the last few minutes.
Plus, days ago, on the phone, I'd practically demanded that we separate. Wasn't this exactly what I'd wanted?
Yes.
And no.
The thought of us separating for good was nearly impossible to bear. "Well?" I said. "Do you?"
Brody dropped his duffle bag onto the floor and strode toward me. He stopped so close, I could've fallen into his arms.
I wanted to. Oh, boy did I want to.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because he still wasn't being honest.
In a low voice, he said, "What, you think I don't care? Even now?"
"I don't know." I craned my neck to stare up at him. "Do you?"
"You know I do." His jaw clenched. "But I'm done."
My eyes filled with unshed tears. The whole thing was so totally unfair. If anyone should be angry, it was me.
Why should Brody get to leave in a huff when I was the one who'd been wronged?
With a choked sob, I said, "Oh, for God' sake, why don't you just admit it already?"
By now, he looked on the verge of losing it. "Admit what?"
"The thing with the house." I gave him another pleading look. "I mean, come on. You know what I mean. Just tell me. Please?"
I held my breath and waited.
With a hard scoff, he said, "What? You want me to tell you I'm sorry? For what? 'Stealing' it?" He shook his head. "Well, I'm not. So deal with it. Or don't. Your choice."
I wanted to scream in frustration. He still wasn't getting it. Or maybe he just didn't want to.
Desperately, I tried again. "I don't think you stole it, not technically."
"Then what do you think?"
"I think you cheated." I bit my lip. "And maybe you lied, at least a little." There was no "maybe" about it, and the lie hadn't been small. But heaven help me, I still wanted to hear it from him.
With another scoff, he said, "Right."
"Oh come on, Brody. You seriously don't think you did?"
"You wanna know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think you're nuts." He shook his head. "Hell, I knew you were nuts. But I fell for you anyway." His mouth twisted as he said, "My mistake."
My breath caught. "You fell for me? Seriously?"
"It doesn't matter now, does it?"
"It would if you'd just be honest."
"Yea
h? Well honesty's a two-way street."
I was openly crying now. I didn't want to, but I couldn’t seem to help it. "Alright, you want me to be honest?" I said. "I think you knew the house was mine all along, and you wanted to take it from me, because you hated me." I sucked in a ragged breath. "And maybe part of you still does."
My voice rose as I continued. "And here's the best part. If only you would've come clean, I was so stupid, I would've forgiven you almost anything. So who's the dumb-ass now?"
He looked at me for a long moment. As he did, I saw the unfiltered emotions flicker in his eyes – first pain and then so much anger, I fought a sudden urge to step back.
But I didn't.
Instead, I waited stubbornly for his response.
When his reply finally came, it was just a single word, spoken so softly, it might've been a whisper. "Me."
I shook my head. "What?"
"Me," he repeated. "I'm the dumb-ass, because I bought that act of yours."
"What act?"
Ignoring my question, he said, "But hey, it was a good one, right?"
I shook my head. "It was no act."
"And about the house," he continued. "Fuck yeah, I'm glad I bought it. The place was going to shit. Another year of neglect, and even I wouldn't have been able to save it."
He pointed to the floor. "So maybe you should get down on your knees and thank me if the place means so much to you."
By now, I was literally sobbing. I hated myself for doing it, but I couldn’t seem make myself to stop, not even when I reminded myself that he wasn't worth it, not if he couldn't be honest after everything we'd shared.
But apparently, we were done talking.
Without another word, Brody squeezed past me and left the bedroom entirely, leaving his duffle bag where he'd dropped it.
And me? Like a total idiot, I called out after him, "Wait, you forgot your stuff!"
He kept on going, pausing only long enough to turn back and say. "Wrong. I've got everything I need. And baby, that's not you."
With that, he turned toward the front door. He'd barely left my sight when I heard the front door open and then slam quickly shut.
A moment later, I heard the sound of a vehicle – his truck, obviously – squealing out of the driveway.
And that's when I totally lost it.
It was over, truly over.
No second chances. No nothing.
I don't know how long I cried, but it was long enough to know that I was the worst hostess ever.
Instead of being upbeat for Cami, I spent most of the day – and then half of the night – crying on her shoulder.
This was the last night of our so-called vacation, and I wasn't sure who I hated more – Brody for everything he'd done or myself for crying over him when he wasn't worth it.
At noon the next day, the town car arrived right on schedule to drive Cami back to Petoskey.
For all kinds of reasons, I hated to see her go, especially in a car provided by Brody.
If only I'd taken some time to think, I might've planned another method of getting her back home. But with everything else going on, I hadn't.
Now I felt awkward and embarrassed about the whole arrangement – especially later that afternoon when Waverly returned with all of her suitcases, along with a new smugness that was hard to ignore.
She had news.
And, like everything else today, it wasn't good.
Chapter 62
Arden
When Waverly made her little announcement, I couldn’t help but stare. "You're kidding, right?"
She smiled. "Nope. Sorry." And yet, she didn't look sorry. She looked like she was loving every minute of this.
Just a few minutes ago, she'd started out by telling me how much fun she'd had in California. She hadn't mentioned Brody by name, but the implication had been obvious.
According to Waverly, "Everyone had a lovely time." I didn't believe it. From what I'd seen of Brody, his trip had been anything but lovely. Still, Waverly's claims were making a bad situation even worse, especially when she dropped her latest bombshell – one related to the show.
With obvious delight, she'd just informed me that the show was bringing back Miss LaRue to consult on the house across the street.
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "But the house already has a consultant."
"You?" Waverly laughed. "But you're hardly a professional."
She was right. I wasn't. But I hadn't been hired for my professional design skills. I'd been hired for my connection to the place.
Miss LaRue had no connection, as she so aptly proved during the very next week by suggesting so many odd changes, they kept me in a constant state of panic.
Thankfully, very few of her ideas were actually implemented, whether because Brody kept overruling her, or because her ideas would've thrown everything off schedule.
For starters, she'd wanted to tear down the front porch and replace it with something called a "welcoming deck" – whatever that was.
It didn't matter.
After much debate – and not all of it friendly – the idea was vetoed by Brody personally.
Thank God.
Still, her presence was throwing everything off-kilter. She and I constantly disagreed – sometimes quite loudly – which made Roy positively orgasmic whenever he happened to catch us in mid-argument.
This happened at least once a day. By the second week, I felt ready to pop.
But it wasn't Miss LaRue – or even Roy with his camera – that was making it hard for me to get up in the morning or to fall asleep at night.
It was Brody.
Supposedly, he and I were still working together. But in reality, we avoided each other whenever we could. We never talked, unless we absolutely had to. And even those conversations were short and tense under the constant glare of Roy's video camera.
And yet, there were times when I'd happen to round a corner and nearly collide with Brody face-to-face. Or even worse, I'd sometimes find myself alone with him in the same empty room.
It was in those times that everything still felt unfinished.
And I didn't mean with the house.
Judging from Brody's dark demeanor, he wasn't any happier than I was.
As for the source of his unhappiness, it was impossible to say. Maybe he was just unhappy that I hadn't quit already.
I'd actually considered it.
But whether it was because I needed the money, or because I was determined to finish what I'd started, I kept on going, even when I didn't feel like it, which was almost all of the time.
I was explaining all of this to Cami on the phone when she said, "Just admit it. You're staying because of him."
"I am not," I said. "I'm staying because I can't afford to quit." I frowned. "And because if I leave, Miss LaRue will probably have the house painted puce or something."
"Puce?"
"It's this purple-brownish color." I gave a little shudder. "Get this. She wanted to use it on the kitchen ceiling."
"A brown ceiling? You're kidding, right?"
"I wish." I forced a laugh. "But forget that. We're not supposed to be talking about me. We're supposed to be talking about you."
It was the reason I'd called. I'd been praying for good news about Cami's search for a new job. But just now, when I'd asked her about it, she'd replied by turning the conversation back to me.
It was a bad sign. Still, I had to ask, "So…has anything come up?"
"Not yet. But I'm sure it will." She paused. "Maybe."
That didn't sound good.
Still, I refused to add to Cami's worry. "Yeah. Totally. I mean, any school would be lucky to get you." I meant it, too. Cami was amazing with kids. Still, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but fear that time wasn't on her side.
September was fast approaching. If she didn't have something by then, her odds would drop to nearly zero.
And now she was saying, "So how about you? How's your job search coming
?"
As she listened, I told her that I'd had a second interview with that distribution center, but so far, I'd heard nothing more.
When I finished, she asked, "And what about Brody?"
At the sound of his name, my heart clenched like it always did. "What about him?"
"Are you still avoiding him?"
"As much as I can," I said. "But mostly, I think he's avoiding me." I tried to laugh. "You might call it mutual avoidance."
"So how much time is left?"
"'Til the house is finished?" I said. "Barely three weeks."
Would I make it to the end? I wasn't so sure, especially on the very next day when Miss LaRue suggested her dumbest idea yet – and in front of Brody, too.
Chapter 63
Arden
The new kitchen cupboards had been installed just this week, which made Miss LaRue's suggestion all the more idiotic – even if she did look very French while making it.
Her lipstick was dark red, and her hair was jet-black, cut in a classic French bob. She wore a flared black miniskirt, a black turtleneck sweater, and – not even kidding – a little black beret set at a jaunty angle on her head.
None of this changed the fact that her suggestion was totally insane.
I gave her a perplexed look. "But we already have cupboards." I pointed to the nearest row of kitchen cabinets. "See? They're installed and everything."
On the opposite side of the kitchen, Roy was holding his video camera trained in our direction. A few feet away, standing in the kitchen doorway, Brody watched in grim silence, looking even more ticked off than usual.
But hey, I was ticked off too.
At the moment, it had nothing to do with Brody. It had to do with the fact that he and I had already selected the kitchen cabinets. And they were wonderful in every way.
I hesitated. Okay, I guess this did have a little something to do with Brody, but not directly. After all, he wasn't the one suggesting that we change everything last-minute.
Still, I felt a pang in my heart when I recalled how much fun we'd had that day, going to the cabinet maker's workshop and picking out the perfect Maplewood for the cabinets, along with the perfect honey-colored stain to bring out the natural patterns in the woodwork.
Just yesterday, the woodworkers had finished installing the gorgeous granite countertops, which Brody and I had also picked out together.
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