Sugar and Spice

by Shandi Boyes

My pleas are left unanswered when Cormack murmurs, “Yes.”

  I swipe away a stupid tear on my cheek before continuing my interrogation. “For how long?” I try to be strong. I try to act like my heart isn’t being torn into shreds. It is a woeful waste of time. I am devastated. Destroyed. Wholly confused.

  The earth falls out from beneath my feet for the second time in my life. Except this time, it isn’t in a good way. “A little over five months.”

  “You think that’s bad; wait until you hear how much he underpriced you—”

  I snap my hand in front of Clara’s face, shutting her up without words. She huffs as if I am rude. She has no clue how rude I can be. “I swear to god, if I so much as hear you breathe, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

  She gasps, but she remains as quiet as a monk on a vow of silence. Satisfied she has accepted my threat as I intended, I return my focus to Cormack. I can see the remorse on his face. I can feel the sorrow radiating out of him, but it is only half of the torment ripping through me.

  “Out of those five months, how many of them did you know me for?” My question is strained through a trembling jaw. The way he answers this question will decide his fate—our fate.

  Cormack’s lips twitch, but not a word spills from his mouth. He knows I don’t want to hear his response. He knows he has destroyed us.

  “How many?” I repeat. I don’t want to hear the truth I see projecting from his eyes, but for once, and quite possibly the final time, I want him to be honest.

  After a quick swallow, Cormack murmurs, “Nearly two months.”

  “Two months.” I’m not seeking confirmation. I heard what he said. I’m just testing the words out, seeing how they feel in my mouth before they’re stabbed into my heart.

  They are hard to swallow, but they do offer me a rare moment of clarity. I know what I must do.

  “Harlow. . .” The rest of Cormack’s reply lodges in his throat when my diamond engagement ring slides off my finger. The clink it makes when I place it on the desk in front of him sounds as hollow as my heart feels. “Please don’t do this. I fucked up. I made a mistake. But I will work every single day to make it up to you.”

  His last sentence comes out in a hurry when he attempts to follow my dash out of his office.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cormack

  The stomp of my feet matches my heart smashing into my ribs as I race after Harlow. If she would give me a second to explain, she will understand I never meant to hurt her. I don’t want to destroy her. I love her.

  “Harlow, wait!”

  Just before I exit, my office door slams shut. Its abrupt closure misses my nose by half an inch. I’m so shocked by the events that just took place, it takes me several seconds to register the door didn’t close by itself. Clara pushed it shut.

  “Move,” I demand when she leans her back on the only exit.

  She shakes her head before tightening her arms over her chest. “No. This needed to happen. Better now than after the wedding.”

  “I swear to god, Clara, if you don’t move, I’ll move you myself.” My words are gravelly and thick, ground through the anger enveloping every inch of me.

  Clara quirks her lips as if she is amused. I don’t know what she thinks is funny. Nothing happening right now is funny.

  “Move!” I demand again, my command coming with a shove.

  “Hey!” She pushes back. Her force is double what I used and shoves me three paces back.

  Three paces I storm in a heartbeat to get up in her face. “I swear to god, if I lose Harlow for even a second, you will lose everything. Do you understand me? Your dresses. Your fucking shoes. Your overpriced handbags no one gives a shit about. I will strip everything away from you as you are doing to me.”

  I’m not joking. I will ruin her if she ruins this for me. I love my sister, but I love Harlow more.

  “You would never do something so heinous.” Clara’s words aren’t delivered as confidently as she’d like. She knows I am a man of my word. She also knows I control every aspect of her life. Her apartment. Her bank balance. Everything she has is because I’ve given it to her.

  “Test me, Clara. I dare you.”

  Her hand darts up to clutch her neck as her wide eyes bounce between mine. It takes her several long seconds to reach a verdict, but mercifully, she makes the right one.

  On a pair of wobbly legs, she steps away from the door. I cross the threshold not even a second later.

  “Harlow? Have you seen her?” I ask one of the staff who regularly greets her with a smile.

  She stops vacuuming a rug gifted to my grandparents on their wedding day from an Arabian prince to point to a corridor on her left.

  I race down the hall, my legs the only things operating. My mind is shut down, my heart utterly obliterated. The look on Harlow’s face when she slid her engagement ring off her finger will stay with me for eternity. She was gutted, more hurt than words could ever explain.

  When I reach the foyer, my eyes sling in all directions. There are too many corridors and not enough time. For every second I spend searching for Harlow, the wider the cracks in her heart will become. I don’t have time to waste—not a single second.

  My charge for the first hall slows when a familiar voice breaks through the devastating silence. The last time I ran down these halls was when I was trying to outrace Harlow. She didn’t just beat me that day; she proved the opinions of others have no impact on my life. I placed myself on the opposing side of the team for the first time that day, and I still came out a winner.

  I only won because Harlow was on my team.

  Realizing I’ve stopped, Ruel increases his pace. I’m just about to ask him if he has seen Harlow when he says, “Come quickly. Your grandmother has collapsed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Harlow

  Acting like I didn’t pay for my bus fare with three different credit cards and a few coins in the bottom of my purse, I secure my one-way ticket to Ravenshoe in my hand and make my way to the bus idling five spots down. My steps are slow, weighed down by both devastation and deceit. It has been over two hours since I left Cormack standing in the middle of his office—two devastatingly long hours.

  I didn’t expect him to track me down and demand I return to his residence this instant, but I didn’t anticipate radio silence either. I haven’t heard a single thing from him — not a peep. I guess he has no reason to continue his act since the curtain has been called?

  I didn’t think anything could hurt me as badly as my dad taking his last breath. This is cutting it close. The smiles, the beautiful sayings, our connection that sizzled more than a summer shower on heated asphalt, was it all an act? Did Cormack love me at all? Or were his business aspirations always on the forefront of his mind when he looked at me?

  The distressed look on his face when I returned my engagement ring to its rightful owner filled me with hope, but he lied to me for months, so I can no longer believe his unspoken promises.

  After handing my ticket to the bus driver, I make my way to the back of the bus. Other than the bus driver and me, the bus is empty, but even his presence is too stifling right now.

  I’ve never been a fan of being alone. . . until now.

  For every mile the bus travels, my anger grows. I’m more angry at myself than Cormack. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been the past four months. I knew the instant Cormack walked into my life that he didn’t belong, but instead of listening to my rational head, I allowed my heart to make a fool out of me.

  Not anymore. I am done being cast as the fool. From here on out, unless it benefits me, the rest of the world can get stuffed.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something? Even a bottle of water?”

  I stop galloping down the stairs of the bus to peer up at the driver. James glances down at me with gentle eyes. We were strangers only hours ago, but even he knows I’m putting on a brave face. During my relationship with Cormack, I broke many rules,
but there is one I’ll never break. My dad’s dying wish was for me to only cry happy tears. Even if it breaks my heart beyond repair, I plan to honor my pledge.

  “What happened to that new tough stance you’re supposed to be taking, Harlow?”

  James has a point, but my fuck-the-world attitude only lasted the first two hundred miles of our trip. James and I have become close the past three hours. It wasn’t via James’ choice. When I was forced between interacting with him or answering Cormack’s calls when he finally initiated contact two hours ago, I left my cell in my bag and made my way to the front of the bus.

  Excluding the occasional trip to the bathroom, I’ve only glanced back at my bag four dozen times the past three hours. That might not seem spectacular to you, but for someone as inquisitive as me, that’s a stellar performance. I want to know why Cormack deceived me, but in all honesty, I’m not sure if I am strong enough to hear the truth. If I were to discover our entire relationship was a business transaction, I would be gutted. I don’t think I could ever recover from something like that.

  Recalling my escape from the confines of the bus is for only five minutes, I take a deep breath and get back to the task at hand. It is a laborious effort considering it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to answer him? He’s been calling every ten minutes for the past two hours. Even I’m beginning to hate your ringtone, and I love Queen.”

  I shove the final bite of a Twinkie into my mouth before leaning over to switch off the volume on my phone. Over the past six hours, I’ve shifted through many stages of grief. I was angry. Sad. Confused. Now I am back to angry. It is an anger that grows more volatile every mile we travel. I’ve never handled the emotions pumping into me now, so I’m honestly lost on the correct order for my grief. If I were an ordinary girl, I’d eat ice cream until I felt like I was going to be sick, then curl up into a ball and cry. Alas, I’ve never been anything close to normal.

  After his eyes stray from the road to me, James asks, “I thought you were keeping that on in case your mom or friend needs to reach you?”

  I drop my eyes to my shoes so James won’t see the dishonesty in them. No one is calling me because I haven’t reached out to anyone since I left the Hamptons six hours ago. How can I explain what is happening if I am clueless?

  I’ve told myself time and time again that the devastation on Cormack’s face when I fled his office was an act. Not once has my heart believed me. It wants me to turn around and demand answers. It wants me to look deeper into Clara’s claims, but the tiniest ounce of pride I’m left holding won’t let me.

  I exhale a deep breath, which bellows in the valley where my heart used to sit. “It is either switch it off or listen to my annoying tone. The choice is yours, James?”

  “I chose for you to answer his call.”

  I shoot him a vicious sideways glare. It doesn’t have any heat in it. I am too exhausted working through my confusion to add another name to my short list of enemies. I’ve been traveling for over six hours, and I’m not even a third of the way to Ravenshoe yet. I am beyond tired.

  I don’t know whether James is a saint or sinner when he says, “He’s been calling nonstop for over four hours, Harlow. Whatever he has to say must be important.”

  “Two hours passed before he made contact.” I take a moment to calm down before continuing. James doesn’t deserve my wrath. He is trying to help me. “If he is truly sorry for what he did, why would he take so long to make contact?”

  James shrugs, as lost as me.

  “I don’t care who you are, you do not get to break my heart then leave me hanging. I’m worth more than that.” My words are more for Cormack than James.

  “Yes, you are,” James agrees. His praise was unexpected, but needed. “But you are also as stubborn as a mule.”

  He’s not making assumptions. I’ve told him numerous times the past six hours my dislike of change. He may have also witnessed it a few times as well.

  The heavy groove between James’ brows crosses to mine when he pulls into a transit center on the outskirts of town. With my mind overloaded on sugar and my heart in denial, I forget that James mentioned I would switch buses three times during my travels.

  “I don’t want you to go.” My voice comes out with a sob.

  Those are the exact words I said to my dad in the seconds leading to him taking his last breath. They are also the words I wish Cormack would have said to me hours ago.

  “Oh, Poppet.”

  I shoo away James’ fathering with a wave of my hand. I’m about to break my promise to my dad and let a tear slip down my cheeks. James reminds me a lot of my dad. I think that is why I had such an instant connection with him. He has the same kind eyes, big smile, and hairy chin my dad had. He also had no trouble putting me in my place when I was being bratty during the first half of our trip.

  After pulling his bus into bay eleven, James twists his torso to face me. He looks as torn up about our departure as me. Our connection should be odd considering our age gap, but it isn’t. I’ve already been privileged enough to have four immediate connections in my life: my dad, Izzy, Cormack, and K. Now James is my fifth.

  James clasps my hand in his. “I’m going to tell you a story. It’s not a very long story, but do with it what you will.”

  I listen attentively as he tells me about the week he spent apart from his wife. It was the week prior to their wedding. He was confident when he left their hometown all those years ago, he was never going to return. He did. They married only an hour later.

  “Mistakes happen, Harlow. Errors are made, and things that should never be said are, but if Florence hadn’t given me a chance to admit my blunders, I’d still be as miserable now as I was that week. You don’t have to forgive. You don’t have to forget. But the very least you could do is listen.”

  My head unwillingly nods, my heart choosing its own answer to his suggestion.

  “Give him a chance to say his piece. If you don’t like what he is saying, hang up and walk away.”

  “But what if I don’t want to walk away?” I mutter, expressing the real reason I refuse to accept Cormack’s call. By living in denial, I don’t have to face the truth. I know people. I trust people. But I am utterly lost when it comes to Cormack. My intuition is warning me to be cautious, but my heart is begging for a chance to be heard.

  “No one said you must make an immediate decision, Harlow. From what you told me, Cormack would never force one on you either.”

  Before I can nod in full agreement, my cell phone starts vibrating. Instead of ignoring it like I have been the past six hours, James’ plea has convinced me to lower my eyes to the screen. I’ve ignored so many calls from Cormack, my cell is no longer calculating my missed calls.

  When I secure my phone in my shaky hand, James squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

  My sharp breaths match his steps when he exits the bus. After three big breaths, I swipe my finger across the screen of my cell, then press it to my ear.

  I choke on a sob when Cormack murmurs, “Harlow. . .?” He sounds tired and withdrawn, like the life has been sucked straight out of his bones.

  Since my mouth refuses to cooperate with the prompts of my brain, I remain quiet. . . until Cormack says, “It’s K. She’s not good.”

  “Are you sure don’t mind? I feel terrible.”

  James shoves me into the driver’s seat of his car. The ignition is already switched on; the heat on full blast. “Florence put some cold cut sandwiches and lemonade in the cooler, and the gas tank is topped off. It will get you around halfway. This will get you the rest of the way.” He places a bunch of crumpled up bills in my hand.

  “James, I can’t. . .” My words trail off, my voice too crammed with emotion for him to hear anything I’m saying.

  Knowing a man can never do a woman’s job, James’s wife barges him out of her way, leans into their family sedan, grips my shoulders, then stares m
e straight in the eyes. Florence is a little old Italian lady with the gusto of a drill sergeant. From the instant she arrived on scene, she took control of the situation. She reminds me a lot of K in a scarier, more dominant type of way.

  “Do you love him?” Florence asks without any hesitation.

  “He deceived me—”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Florence interrupts, her tone stern. “Do you love him?”

  My chin quivers when I reply, “Yes.” Even with Cormack’s betrayal breaking my heart, I still love him. I always will.

  “Then everything else needs to be put aside for now. He needs you, Harlow. The rest can wait.”

  Her words have me fighting back my fifth set of tears the past half hour. They also have my foot getting friendly with the gas pedal. I have five hundred miles to travel. I don’t have time for tears.

  “Thank you,” I mouth to both James and Florence. There are so many more words I could use to express my gratitude, but since they are the most honest, I settle on them.

  I wait for them to acknowledge my praise before checking for an opening in the traffic. With the late hour and a mammoth amount of determination, it doesn’t take me long to find out.

  “Be careful, Harlow,” I hear James shout in the seconds leading to him becoming a blip in my rearview mirror.

  I make it two hundred miles before pulling over to pump gas and use the restroom. With my cell phone battery depleted within seconds of Cormack dropping his bombshell, I have no idea if my plight to see K is in vain. I hope not, but the heaviness sitting on my chest triples for every hour that ticks by.

  After filling James’ tank to the very brim, I dash inside to use the restrooms. My frantic speed slows when I detour past a wall of cell phone chargers and prepaid mobiles. I’m tempted to splurge, but the outdated tape deck in James’ car stops me.