Sweet Love

by Lauren Accardo

  “Soooo.” Nicole’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight streaming in through the single pink-curtained window. Her mouth pressed and twitched, a smile threatening beyond. “Tell me! Tell me. Right now.”

  “What am I telling you?” Mila’s stomach turned to ice. She wasn’t ready to say anything. She wanted to keep what had happened at the hotel her own little secret. She wanted clandestine smiles across the room and fiery, featherlight touches that no one else saw.

  “Fine, you want to pretend? Then I won’t ask you if you slept with Jared. I’ll ask, How many times? How was it? And when did you two finally admit that you have feelings for each other?”

  Mila’s cheeks burned, and she was suddenly grateful Nicole had never flipped on the light. Was she smiling? Her cheeks hurt from holding it in. She wanted desperately to share the news with Nicole, but how quickly would that news spread through Pine Ridge? How quickly would the pressure of an entire town’s expectations land squarely on Jared’s shoulders and push him away?

  “Nic . . .” She had nothing else to say. How many times? Not enough. How was it? Mind-bending, soul-crushing, world-shifting. When had they admitted their feelings? Not soon enough.

  Nicole grinned. “He told me, you know.”

  A half croak escaped Mila’s throat. “Wh—what?”

  “He told me he was into you.” Nicole’s eyebrows jumped, and she crossed her arms in satisfaction. “At the bake-off.”

  Mila’s skin tingled like a kid in summertime standing under the sprinkler. “He did?”

  Nicole shifted her weight, a smug smile on her lips. “I think this is great, Lee. I think it’s amazing. I’ve always wondered why you two never got together.”

  All at once, Mila deflated. Why you two never got together. They’d never gotten together because their futures looked as different as could be. Jared wore Pine Ridge like a too-tight suit, busting at the seams and begging to be shed. He talked more about leaving than anybody they grew up with, and he practically salivated over any TV show featuring house hunting and exotic locations.

  He didn’t want to live a small-town life. Mila was small-town life.

  “We’re not together,” Mila said, directing her statement toward a faded poster of Brendon Urie. Her mother really needed to give this room a face-lift, future generations sleeping here or not.

  “What does that mean?” Nicole asked. “You’re just hooking up? No way.”

  “Listen.” Mila licked her lips and took Nicole’s hand in hers. “I’m not trying to keep this from you. I promise. But can we have this conversation when my parents aren’t in the next room?”

  Nicole gave her a sympathetic head tilt. “Don’t you dare try to dodge me.”

  Mila exhaled. In a perfect world, she and Jared could go on doing as they pleased without an explanation to anybody. Including themselves.

  “I’m not dodging you,” Mila said. “We’ll talk. We’ll get a giant bottle of wine and sit on my couch, and I’ll share every detail. Just . . . not tonight.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Mila slipped out the bedroom door and joined her mother in the kitchen. The two women worked side by side, Mila leaving anything skill-based to Caryl but effectively avoiding the men in the other room. If Nicole could tell within minutes that something had happened between her and Jared, how long would it take her parents?

  Caryl announced dinner was ready, and everyone settled down at the table. Over the years, as Caryl and Lloyd’s blood children had vacated the home and their surrogate children had filtered in, they’d each claimed a regular spot at the table. Jared always chose the seat next to Mila.

  That night, with Jared’s soft, peppery cologne competing against the heady smell of hot, sizzling rib eyes, Mila wished for TV trays in the living room. How could she focus with the man she knew so well and yet had only just discovered sitting six inches to her right?

  “Jared, any news on that Silver Lake property?” Lloyd asked, passing the bowl of mashed sweet potatoes.

  Jared spooned a healthy serving onto his plate and handed the bowl to Mila. Their knuckles brushed, and the silver serving spoon slipped from Mila’s fingers and clattered to the ground.

  “Shit.” Mila clambered from the table to retrieve another spoon. “Sorry.”

  Caryl pointed a disapproving pout at her daughter. “Where’s your head at, Mila?”

  With a new serving spoon in hand, Mila returned to the table and nearly stumbled again. Jared’s eyes burned into her, his lips curved into the tiniest hint of a smile. That slippery jerk knew exactly what he was doing.

  “I’m just tired,” Mila said. She slid back into her chair and spooned a heaping portion of potatoes onto her plate. If she couldn’t quiet her nerves with wine, food would have to do.

  “So,” Lloyd said. “What about that property?”

  Mila watched her father carefully. Why had he asked twice?

  “Ah, no,” Jared said. “It’s a tough one. It’s for such a specific buyer, and that buyer just hasn’t materialized yet.”

  The brightness radiating from Jared’s face dampened as he spoke. He stared down at his plate, trailing the tines of his fork through the mound of golden orange potatoes.

  “Just wait until you’re working somewhere like New York or Boston,” Calvin said. “Silver Lake will look like peanuts compared to those multimillion-dollar homes.”

  The smile tugged at Jared’s lips. “That does sound nice.”

  Mila’s chest burned.

  “You’re not still thinking of moving to a big city, are you?” Caryl said. She’d stopped eating altogether, her fork poised midway to her mouth and topped with a cube of tender meat.

  Jared cleared his throat. His eyes darted sharply around the table at the expectant faces. When they landed on Mila, she bit her lower lip to keep her expression neutral. New York. Boston. Hundreds of miles from here. Filled with smart, sophisticated women who took the world by the balls.

  “I don’t know,” Jared said. “I mean, I’d like to. Someday.”

  The slow, methodical sound of Nicole chewing filled the room, and Mila fought to avoid her friend’s pointed stare.

  “What’s wrong with Pine Ridge?” Caryl said. “You can’t raise a family in New York or Boston. Living in a little apartment, paying ten dollars for a cup of coffee with no family around to help you out.”

  The color slowly drained from Jared’s face, and his wide-eyed stare returned to his plate. He hadn’t taken a single bite.

  “I don’t know,” Jared said. “I’m not really there yet, you know?”

  “Yet,” Caryl said.

  Mila begged the universe to swallow her up. The evening had taken a decidedly strange turn, and the frozen, petrified look on Jared’s face told her he knew it, too.

  “Well,” Jared offered, “the goal in moving somewhere like that would be to make money. A lot of money. Then I’d have options.”

  “Money’s nice,” Caryl said. “But money won’t keep you warm at night. Mila doesn’t want to live in a big city, you know.”

  “Mom, leave him alone.” The tone Mila meant to be firm came out whiny and small.

  Caryl sent her the Bailey Look, and a sick sense of dread crept across Mila’s chest.

  They couldn’t possibly know.

  Could they?

  “I’m only saying all the things his mother would say if she were here.”

  Jared snorted. He took a long drink of his wine and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He’d always had a very complicated relationship with his mother, and summoning her never relieved any tension.

  “My mom wanted me to leave this town more than anybody,” he said.

  Mila sat up straighter. Mrs. Kirkland never made a secret of her aspirations for Jared or her opinion that he never worked to his full potential. Remembering the tense conversations between them made Mi
la’s heart hurt.

  “Your mother was a good woman,” Caryl said. “I didn’t know her well, but I know she made the best of a bad situation.”

  Jared snorted again.

  “Hey, can we change the subject?” Mila said. Her stomach had turned in on itself, watching Jared squirm under Caryl’s intense scrutiny. He never wanted to talk about his mom, and coupled with his plans for the future, she feared he might simply up and walk out.

  “Your mother’s just curious where this all is going.” Lloyd raised his fork and gestured to the space between Mila and Jared. “You know. Word travels fast around here.”

  Mila’s tongue dried up as Jared’s face turned a lighter shade of gray. The only sound in the room was Nicole’s slow, purposeful intake of air.

  “Yikes,” Nicole whispered.

  What are you referring to, Dad? Whatever could you mean?

  The words echoed in Mila’s brain, but nothing came out of her mouth. Instead, she summoned every shred of courage she possessed and lowered her shoulders in a warrior pose.

  “It’s none of your business,” she hissed. “It’s none of anyone’s business.”

  Caryl tossed a hand in the air and rolled her eyes. “You’re my daughter. It most certainly is my business.”

  “I’m sure Mila and Jared will tell us when they’re ready,” Nicole offered.

  “You all act like I’m grilling her,” Caryl said. “I’m just asking some simple questions. Is it supposed to be a secret? They weren’t acting like it was a secret outside Utz’s yesterday.”

  Mila shut her eyes, the one bite of food she’d swallowed threatening to resurface. Maybe they hadn’t meant it to be a secret, but it certainly wasn’t ready to be on full display at the Bailey family dinner table, where dreams came to die.

  “What are you, spying on me?” Mila’s voice barely choked out past tense lips.

  Caryl rolled her eyes. “Spying? I was picking up my prescription, and I drove by and saw the two of you kissing in the parking lot. I’m not sure that qualifies me for the CIA.”

  “Oh God,” Mila groaned. Caught kissing in the parking lot. Like a teenager.

  “Hey, I’m all for it,” Caryl said. “I just want to make sure you’ve both really thought this through. You’re not eighteen anymore. Your decisions have consequences.”

  “Hey, Jorie McDonagh is pregnant again.” Nicole’s eyes widened as she shared the news, the rest of the table shifting uncomfortably in squeaky wooden chairs.

  “Irish twins, huh?” Lloyd said.

  The conversation shifted and allowed Caryl to pass judgment on a different Pine Ridge resident, but her earlier comments swirled in Mila’s stomach like sediment in a pool. Everything she’d said was true, and yet speaking it out loud gave it strength, made it impossible to ignore.

  While Nicole babbled on about Jorie and Matt and their two-under-two family scenario, Jared continued to push his food around his plate and remain eerily silent. Every few minutes he huffed a mild-mannered laugh and sipped his water. By the time plates were cleared and dessert served, Mila feared he’d never attend another Bailey family dinner.

  “Hey, I should get going,” Jared said.

  His words rang across the table, drawing everyone’s confused stare.

  “Really?” Mila said. “We haven’t eaten dessert yet.”

  He swallowed audibly and raked a hand through his hair. He had the same wide-eyed, glazed-in-fear stare he’d maintained since they’d sat down to dinner.

  “I’ve got a ton of work to do before tomorrow morning,” he said. “Plus, since you started recipe testing, I have to spend an extra hour in the gym every day. I’m starting to get a spare tire.”

  Just the thought of his smooth, tight abs made her throat dry up. Maybe after tonight she’d never get to see them again.

  He moved around the room, hugging everyone warmly and saying goodbye in low, sweet tones. When he got around to Mila, she glued her eyes to the sharp knife sliding in and out of the custard pie and attempted to ignore him altogether.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

  She refused to turn, refused to hug him. She’d collapse into tears, apologizing for her parents and begging him to forget the last two hours of his life. She didn’t want from him what they claimed she did, didn’t have those ridiculous expectations. He could travel if he wanted. Work in New York or Boston. He could live however he chose. No restrictions. Nothing holding him back.

  Especially not her.

  He stood there dumbly, waiting for something she couldn’t give.

  “Okay,” she said. She picked up two dessert plates, sent him a tight-lipped smile, and turned away.

  chapter fifteen

  Gosh, I just don’t know. I really don’t care for this wallpaper.”

  Jared gritted his teeth. Everyone who’d ever seen an episode of anything on HGTV considered themselves experts on home renovation. Most of them just complained about wallpaper and carpet color and the lack of an open-concept floor plan.

  “All surface stuff,” Jared said. “Wallpaper comes down easily, and then you can pick the wall color you love. Turn it into a home. Your home.”

  Mrs. Abbott harrumphed again, and her husband shrugged his meaty shoulders. They meandered through the living room to the kitchen, staring up, while Jared stewed near the front door.

  Typically he had all the patience in the world for commitment-phobic house hunters. He’d crack jokes, flirt with the wives, talk up the Loving Page bookshop’s lively events and the delicious treats at McDonagh’s Bakery. Today, uneasiness simmered in his gut, and he couldn’t keep it from polluting his professional demeanor.

  Dinner the previous night had been a total nightmare. The Baileys were incredible people, the closest he had to parents who understood him, but their traditional streak ran deep. They believed in family, financial stability, and keeping your head down. Big dreams need not apply.

  He knew they wanted the best for their daughter, but he wasn’t thinking long term right now. He simply wanted to enjoy Mila. He wanted them to have fun, explore sides of each other they’d never seen before, and take their time. He wasn’t ready to open a joint checking account just yet. And every time he started to envision himself dating and marrying his best friend, he heard his mother’s voice.

  There’s a whole lot more world out there, Jare. Don’t let yourself get sucked in by the comforts of this town. You’re headed for much bigger things.

  The older he got, the more trouble he had seeing Pine Ridge as a death sentence. His mother had had her own unique experience growing up and living and dying in the small town, but why did that mean he had to replicate that life? Mila would never do to him what his parents had done to each other. She didn’t have it in her.

  Did she?

  The Abbotts thanked him for his time and left him to close up the house. He took his time, flipping off light switches and locking windows. The faintest hint of a warm breeze blew through town, and he took full advantage of fresh air. Spring always meant an uptick in sales.

  Could warm weather dredge up a buyer for Silver Lake? He punched the code into the lockbox on the front door and turned toward his car, hazy purple light settling over the treetops. He’d showed the property in summer when the sky turned cerulean blue, in autumn when burnt sienna and golden red and orange leaves painted the mountains in stunning broad strokes, and in winter when blankets of soft, powdery snow turned the house into a Christmas buff’s wet dream.

  A couple nibbles. No bites. Springtime—the muddiest, dreariest, most inconsistent season of them all—was his last hope.

  The office sat quiet and abandoned when he arrived, all his colleagues having gone home for the night. He wasn’t ready yet. His empty house fostered thoughts of the decisions that lay ahead of him, the expectations of everyone around him and one person—one overwhelmi
ng presence—who’d left him nearly two years ago. Work was work. All-consuming and unavoidable, no matter how hopeless his current docket seemed.

  At nine o’clock, he toned down the desperation in his last email of the evening before hitting Send. Surely his contacts smelled the fear in him by now. He’d never been in a spot as tough as with Silver Lake. The proximity to failure didn’t sit well in his gut.

  He closed his laptop, locked up the office, and headed out into the night. As he cruised through the quiet, darkened streets of downtown Pine Ridge, he noticed the lights on at the Loving Page. He slowed his car to a crawl as he passed the big windows filled with Sydney’s springtime display of paper flowers and brightly patterned book jacket blowups. Through the glass, just past the front tables, stood Mila and Sydney, chatting happily as they tossed paper plates and cups into a trash bag.

  The book club. Had Mila made time for the book club tonight? She’d texted him earlier that she had a free night, but he’d had to take the Abbotts to see that property and a mountain of work to catch up on.

  What an asshole. Mila had a free night, and he’d acted like he didn’t have time for her.

  He pulled his car into an empty space in front of the store and walked in, the bell jingling merrily over his head and announcing his arrival.

  Mila looked up, her lips parted in restrained expectation. Her sly eyes blinked a few times, and she bit down on the swell of her full lower lip. What had ever made him want to avoid her?

  “We’re closed, Kirkland,” Sydney said with a smile. “You’ll have to wait until the morning to peruse the erotic romance section.”

  She teased, but Jared had skimmed a few of those books. He’d had to stop himself after only a few paragraphs to prevent showing everyone in the store how much he’d enjoyed them.

  “We were just heading out,” Mila said. “Did you need something?”

  He could see her defenses raised as if they’d been made of literal armor. Who could blame her? He’d run like a scared puppy from the Bailey family dinner, playing the role of typical dude scared of being asked about his intentions.