by Staci Hart
“Wendy’s back in town.”
A long, noisy draw of breath filled the space between us. “Laney told me.”
Another pause, his eyes the deepest, darkest blue of all of us. “What do you think she wants?”
“I don’t know. Can’t be a coincidence that she’s on my heels.”
He frowned. “Didn’t think so either. Think she heard Marcus bought the shop?”
Unease twisted around in my stomach like a nest of snakes. “Maybe. Though I don’t know why she’d bother coming all the way back. I’ve only seen her a handful of times since … well, since it ended. The last time was a few weeks ago. She seemed her usual then.”
“Charming? Messy? Manic?”
“All of the above.”
His frown deepened. “Was she up or down?”
“Up. She wanted to hike Cahuenga, so we did. It was … nice. Like the old days.”
“The thrill isn’t worth the fallout.”
“You say that like I don’t know.”
Kash huffed. “You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”
I shrugged. “It’s Wendy,” was all I said. Which, of course, meant yes.
That earned me a roll of his eyes. “You’re so predictable.”
Rather than argue, I ran a hand over my mouth. “You know how it was with her. I loved her—or who she was when she was lucid. And when she wasn’t…”
“You wanted to save her. Help her. I get it. But man, you are a glutton for punishment, getting back in bed with her.”
“It was the last time. She told me afterward she had a boyfriend.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” he said flatly.
“Don’t worry. Lesson learned and all that. At least she’s consistent.”
This time, his eye roll was accompanied by a snort.
A rumbling came from the hallway, the unmistakable thunder of someone running up the stairs.
“Dinner!” Laney called, the word trailing down the hall and up the next flight.
“Who knows?” Kash asked, hauling himself out of the bed. “Maybe Wendy’ll actually use whatever lives between her ears and stay away.”
“Let’s not press our luck,” I said on a tight laugh, following him out of our room, thinking of her.
Five years ago when I’d met Wendy, my orbit had shifted, centering around her. She had the energy of the sun, warm and bright. It was intoxicating, the vitality radiating from her, and I siphoned it off to fuel my own.
But that’s the thing about a star. Get too close, and you get burned.
Whatever I schemed, she was down for. Whatever I wanted to do, she was in. I thought I’d adventure through a lifetime with her. So when she hit lows, there I was, stable and steady, a lifeline in the storm.
She needed me. So I gave her everything, heart and soul.
I told myself it wasn’t her fault when she refused meds, dropped out of therapy. I blamed her parents for their neglect, their irresponsibility, for the lack of love she received. I wanted to save her from them. From herself. I wanted to give her the life she’d never known.
So I used my trust on our house in Santa Monica. Let her shop without constraint. The debts grew, and my trust dwindled. My odd jobs wouldn’t pay for Hermès purses anymore, wouldn’t fund the house. So we packed up, headed into the Valley where it was more affordable, and found an apartment in Reseda. My thought was that when things turned around, we could settle down there and raise kids, despite the fighting it had taken me to get her off the west side. And that fight seemed to bleed into everything. The good times quit outweighing the bad, her lows longer, harder. I thought we’d never make it when I found the Vicodin, when I uncovered her addiction—that fight was so intense I left the house when she started slinging plates at me like frisbees. When I came home, every ceramic in our kitchen had been reduced to rubble, the room a wreckage of porcelain bursts and nicks slashed in the walls.
I found Wendy in our room, unresponsive. A handful of pills, a couple of drinks. An ambulance. Stomach pump. Her tears, her sorrow when she woke, as desperately real as her rage had been.
Wendy had two triggers—financial security and abandonment. And that knowledge should have been my clue. I should have known then that it was going to fall apart. But like a fool, I had faith.
And then I found her with him.
It was the stuff of nightmares. After all we’d been through, after everything I’d given, I came home to find her fucking him in my living room. Everyone has a line, a boundary that once crossed could never be retreated beyond again. And that was mine.
I believed her when she said she was sorry—not to get me back, but because despite it all, she didn’t want to hurt me. She moved back to Santa Monica with him. And when he dumped her like a broken armchair, she came back, begging. I was sick enough to consider taking her back.
But what I’d told her was as true then as it was in this very moment—I couldn’t forgive her just because she was sick. Not for what she’d done.
The most I could offer was to help her find jobs—which she would inevitably lose—or help her secure apartments—which she would live in until she either couldn’t pay rent anymore or found a new guy to shack up with. She bounced from man to man, always rich, always connected. And when they discarded her, as they always did, she would come to me. It would start as dinner and end up with us in each other’s arms. But there was always a surprise—she needed money, had been dumped. Or worse—she came to me for comfort when she had a boyfriend I didn’t know about. Which made me the other man.
Beyond the pale. That last time was the last time.
But still I knew deep down that I’d answer the call. Because if I didn’t help her, no one would.
When Marcus had summoned us home, I realized I’d only been staying for her. And coming back broke the shackles I hadn’t realized I’d been wearing.
Hearing that she’d followed had them hovering over my wrists all over again.
But this time, it was different. This time, I wouldn’t sacrifice. It was time I moved on, and for the first time in a long time, moving on felt possible.
I mean, aside from the fact that I was living in my childhood home with my siblings.
Our old room hadn’t changed much, though Kash had moved into Laney’s old room when she left for college—it was bigger and had a bay window. Of course, he’d relinquished it to Laney when she came home. And since Marcus’s room had been turned into a junkyard of homeless boxes and furniture, Kash and I had ended up back in our room together.
He’d called bottom bunk, and when we’d wrestled for it, he’d won, thanks to a well-placed punch to the nuts. Always was a cheater—it was the only way he could beat me. As such, every night, I climbed a tiny ladder and slept close enough to the ceiling that I couldn’t raise my arms without putting a fist through sheetrock. Lucky for Kash, I wasn’t claustrophobic.
We trotted down the stairs, passing framed pictures of all of us, from naked butts to posed studio pictures. Kash and I took turns insulting each other, Laney chiming in with a flick of my ear that ended up with her over my shoulder, squealing. Marcus remained civilized, only offering an occasional one-liner, and Mom followed behind, fussing over his suit and warning me not to knock anything off the walls.
We burst into the dining room like a herd of wildebeests. Dad sat at the head of the table, sighing as he closed his newspaper, his moment of solitude passed. Jett entered the room with a casserole dish in mitted hands and Mom’s apron tied around his neck and waist—the purple one with the little yellow flowers.
The rest of us stopped with a nearly audible screech, paused, and busted out laughing.
His face flattened. “What? I didn’t want to mess up my shirt.”
Kash bellowed, grabbing Jett around the neck. “You look so pretty, Julie.”
Jett rolled his eyes, elbowing Kash hard enough to make him oof. “Watch it, Kassie.”
“Come on, don’t let him get to you,” I soothed. “Not
when you look so pretty in purple.”
“And you look great in black and blue,” he shot.
“Now, hush,” Mom said, shooing us toward our seats. “Your brother cooked dinner for you ungrateful Bennets. Shame on you for teasing him. He was the only one who offered, knowing I can’t cook anymore.” Her voice was high and lilting but tight around the edges with guilt.
We shared a look before mumbling our apologies.
“Smells good,” Laney said, pulling up her chair. “Enchilada casserole? Man, I’ve been craving this for years.”
“That’s more like it,” Mom noted, beaming at her children as we all sat, her discomfort gone—or at least packed away for the moment. “What did everyone do today?”
Laney reached for the spoon and divvied herself out some Spanish rice. “I worked on graphics for the store all day and almost have the website finished.”
“Oh, good. I can’t wait to see,” Mom said as she filled her plate. “Marcus?”
“Oh. Here’s the guacamole.”
“No, what did you do today?”
He frowned, setting the dish back down. “Considering I have a dozen banker boxes full of handwritten receipts to go through, we can assume I’ll be doing that until I die.”
She flushed, tittering. “I’ve never had a head for math.”
Marcus smiled in an uncharacteristic display of compassion, the kind he reserved for Mom. “It’s all right. Once I get it sorted, I think we might refile with the IRS for a few years back. I have a feeling there’s another twenty to thirty thousand in deductions that were missed.”
“Well, what a surprise!” Mom said. “We should take a cruise.”
Kash’s nose wrinkled. “Stuck on a boat with a bunch of strangers and buffets covered in E-coli? Pass.”
“And you, Lucas? What did you do today?”
“Tess,” Kash said, smiling innocently at Mom.
Her brow quirked in confusion, and Laney snickered.
“What he means is that Tess and I finished painting,” I answered, kicking Kash under the table.
His knee hit the tabletop hard enough to disturb the silverware.
“How exciting!” Mom was all smiles, completely unaffected. “I like to see you two getting along,” she said pointedly.
“Oh, they’re getting along all right,” Kash said, sniggering. “Luke just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut about it.”
I was ready to fling my fork at him like a ninja star, but Mom went on, unaware.
“Good,” she said. “That makes me unreasonably happy. Can I finally come see what you’ve done, or will you keep me out of there another day? You know I don’t do well waiting, Lucas.”
“Tomorrow,” I promised. “We’ve still got to put everything back where it goes. Plus, I’ve got a couple surprises for you.”
“I love surprises,” she said, her face all soft and dreamy. “And I’m glad you and Tess are working together. She is such a treasure.” Tears filled her eyes, happy tears. Proud tears. “She’s been my hands for so long, I almost don’t miss it. Almost.”
Every face at that table warmed.
Dad reached for her hand. “Tess would argue it’s you who’s the treasure.”
Mom smiled, sniffling. “Oh, she would, but it’d be a lie. But I appreciate a well-formed fib as much as I appreciate a good surprise.”
I picked up the Tess torch and ran with it. “She jumped right in to help, got her hands dirty, has loads of ideas. We’re working on a few things to show you, things I think you’re gonna flip your lid over.”
“I’m sure my lid will flip elegantly and stick the landing.” She let loose a happy sigh. “I will never get tired of seeing all my children at the dinner table again. Will you, Mr. Bennet?”
“Surely not, Mrs. Bennet,” he said with a smile only for her.
“And all to work in the shop. Here I thought only Kash had any interest. And just like that, all five of my children are home and pitching in. I must be the luckiest mother in the whole world.”
Marcus eyed her with suspicion. “Mom,” he started in warning.
“What?”
“How many blind dates have you set us up on?”
She glanced up at him, attempting at innocent. “Marcus Bennet, I can’t imagine what you might mean.”
“There was no nuance, Mother.”
The color rose in her cheeks. “Well, who could blame me for wanting to see my children in love and married? How else will I ever hold grandchildren? When will I weep at a wedding? Lucas ran off and married that girl, and I didn’t even get any pictures. Laney and Jett are thirty-one. Thirty-one! And I’m only getting older. Soon, I’ll be feeble and frail, and how will I hold babies then?” she rambled her consternation, face flushed and attention on dishing herself out casserole without thought until an insurmountable pile sat on her plate.
“Mom,” Laney warned. “Did you really?”
Kash smirked. “Hey, I’ll take a blind date. Last one she set me up on was with Charity Smith.”
He and I shared a knowing look. The only thing Charity was charitable with was in her pants.
“See?” Mom said, digging into her mound of casserole like it wasn’t outrageous in portion. “I’m being helpful. Thank you, Kassius. At least one of you is trying.”
“How many of us did you set up?” I asked, forearms on the table and brows together.
She shrugged, her face too benign. “Oh, I don’t know. All of you?”
The table erupted in noise, and Mom took a prim bite like she couldn’t hear us.
“Honestly, Mom,” Laney huffed, “it’s not like we can’t get our own dates.”
“I know you can,” she insisted, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “You have your apps and your matchmaking websites nowadays, but there’s something to be said for a good, old-fashioned setup, isn’t there? For instance, at garden club yesterday, Vera Archer said her daughter just moved back from San Francisco and needs some friends. Of course, I offered for Jett. Plus—”—she leaned in, smiling wickedly—“she’s filthy rich.”
Jett groaned.
Laney rolled her eyes. “Mother.”
“What?” she blustered. “I only want my children to be happy and healthy and find love. And if the person they fall in love with is rich, that couldn’t possibly hurt, could it?”
“Of course it couldn’t hurt,” Dad said, “beyond the bite of the hayfork you use to shovel them off to the marriage market.”
Mom swatted his arm. “Oh, I’m not shoveling … just giving them a little nudge. Isn’t that our job? Encourage them to fly out of the nest?”
“Fly or swan dive?” Marcus asked.
“Fly,” she insisted. “Your date is next Tuesday, by the way. With that sweet little Jenny Arnold. Do you remember her?”
Marcus’s face flattened. “I think she gave me a religious tract outside the bathroom in high school.”
Kash laughed. “She still does that. I saw her in Blanche’s Donuts last week, just hanging around outside the restroom door waiting to proselytize to poor, unsuspecting donut enthusiasts.”
“I’m not going,” Marcus stated in a tone that brooked no argument.
One Mom was deaf to. “Oh, you’ll go. Otherwise, you’ll have to tell her yourself, to her face.”
And just like that, she had him, check and mate. No way could he bear the look on poor Jenny Arnold’s face when he told her he’d rather eat a dirty boot than take her to dinner. Instead, he’d sit through an entire dinner, listening to her talk about her favorite Psalms while he thought of all the ways he could off himself with things within his reach.
I laughed at the thought, but the sound died in my throat.
She’d said she’d set all of us up.
“Mom,” I warned, “who’d you pair me with?”
She smiled, lips together to guard her secret. “I’m still firming yours up.”
I frowned, aversion sliding over me like a slug. There was only one girl I wanted to ask
out, and her name rhymed with yes.
“I’m too busy with the store,” I insisted. “Give Kash my date.”
Kash shoveled a bite into his mouth, saying around it, “I’ll take it.”
But Mom tsked. “No, this one is special for Lucas. You can’t have her.”
My frown deepened, my attention inward as Laney climbed on her soapbox to rant about societal pressures to get married and how unfair it all was.
I’d find a way out of whatever date my mother devised. That was all there was to it.
I had other plans.
The vision of Tess in my arms arrested my thoughts. The almost imperceptible smattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones and the unbelievable length of her eyelashes. The little details of her face that I hadn’t seen until she was close enough to kiss, like the burst of honey gold around her pupils, the color vivid and full of light against the deep brown of her eyes.
I liked Tess, and it had been a long, long time since I felt like this … like there was possibility. She was the kind of girl I could see myself with because who else could truly tame a Bennet but a girl like Tess? She wouldn’t give me an inch. And she believed I wasn’t the kind of man to be responsible.
Which made me want to prove her wrong.
Despite that, she liked me. In the moment when she’d almost kissed me, I knew. Maybe against her will, but she liked me at least equally as much as she hated me.
And that was something I could work with.
9
DOUBLE TAKE
TESS
I was all smiles, bouncing into the shop the next morning like a rubber ball.
The difference with the white walls was night and day, and to see it in full daylight was astounding. The space looked twice as big, bright and full of sunshine, the effect lost on me and Luke last night when we’d finished after dark. But this morning, Longbourne was illuminated. The long walls were pristine, the tables and displays back in place, and in the back, the register counter was framed by freshly scrubbed red brick.
He must have hung up the old wooden Longbourne sign above the counter this morning, and my heart twisted with emotion at the sight.
