by Shen, L. J.
“Just checking in. Are you back home?” he asked. She looked around her. I might or might not have been standing behind a statue. The Weeping Angel with a cigarette tucked between her fingers, her face propped above a bar counter. An impulsive, tongue-in-cheek purchase after I’d come back from South America to find my ex-fiancée knocked up with my brousin’s baby. The need to shell out a lot of money on something meaningless had been overwhelming back then. As if to say: So fucking what? I can still drop five hundred K on a piece of shit most people won’t agree to wipe their ass with.
“Spent the night at the hospital, then came back to Chase’s apartment this morning,” she said apologetically. “I wanted to make sure he was feeling all right.”
Another thing I didn’t hate about Madison Goldbloom—she didn’t pin the blame on other people. I was the one who’d twisted her arm about coming here. But she didn’t mention that to Ethan.
“Oh,” he said. How eloquent. Seriously, how the heck did she date this guy?
“Ronan is fine, by the way.” She pinched her lips.
“Of course. I was about to ask,” he said. Then paused. No, he hadn’t been. He didn’t care about my father. “Has anything happened between you and Chase?”
“No, of course not.” She sighed.
Silence stretched across the room. These two had the sexual chemistry of a tampon and a ketchup stain together. I couldn’t fathom how she didn’t see it. Madison was fire, and Ethan was . . . what the fuck was he, anyway? Not water. Not earth. He was a shadow. A by-product of something else.
“Do you want to see each other tonight? We were about to—”
Hell to the goddamn no. I stepped out from behind the statue, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Tonight is not going to work for us.” I rolled my shirtsleeves up my veiny arms, nonchalantly making my way to Mad. I’d promised not to fuck her; I’d never said anything about not preventing anyone else from doing just that tonight. I dropped a chaste kiss to her forehead, which she wiped with a frown, her eyes blazing with horror and annoyance. I held her gaze. “See, Madison will be with me tonight.”
“Chase!” she snapped. “Sorry about that, Ethan. I would love to—”
“Have a relationship in which I am both attracted to and interested in the man I am seeing,” I completed for her, grinning. “I know, Mad. It’d make things so much easier.”
“Nothing is more difficult than you.” She tried swatting me away, but you could hear the grin in her voice. Her face was glowing. Mission accomplished.
“The word you are looking for is hard,” I quipped. “And thank you.”
“You are a nightmare.” She chuckled.
“But the sexy kind, right? Where you wake up with puckered nipples and ruined panties?” I egged her on. She was getting flushed, her eyes wide and full.
“I’ll leave you to deal with this, Maddie,” Ethan said coldly, hanging up before she could salvage the conversation.
Mad stood up, waving her phone in the air. “Stop clam-jamming me!” She pretended to slap my chest.
I grabbed her hand, biting the tips of her fingers playfully. “If I’m not getting some, no one in this fake engagement is.”
“We have no relationship!” She threw her head back, growling. “I cannot believe I tried so hard to keep you when we were together, only to find out you wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“Give it a few weeks,” I jested.
“Stop saying that. It is disrespectful to your father. He could live for months. Even years.”
“No, he can’t.”
“Chase.”
“Mad.”
She stopped, scrunching her forehead. “Why do you call me Mad? Why not Mads? Maddie? Madison? Virtually all my other nicknames.”
I knew the answer. I’d known it for some time now. But sharing it with her felt like crossing a line, especially when I suspected I’d let my mouth run freely yesterday before I’d passed out on that hospital bed. I looked down, caught a glimpse of the wedding dress she was sketching, then looked back up. “You’re talented,” I said, changing the subject.
“And that’s surprising?” She took the hint.
“No.” Yes. “Your sketches are clean. Elegant. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I can be clean and elegant. I choose to dress quirky and all over the place.”
“Why?”
“Because it is my personality in textile form.”
“Are you bipolar?” I deadpanned.
“Offensive.” She pretended to gag. We were good together, and she knew it. I knew it, too, which was why it was exceptionally dumb of me to continue pursuing her. She looked back at the page, frowning. “I don’t think people are going to like it. Sven, specifically.”
“Why?”
“Too many details.” She gestured toward the sketch with her hand, pointing at the sleeves, the collar, and the tulle. “Traditionally, the Dream Wedding Dress is much simpler. Cleaner lines, minimal detail, not much character. The emphasis is on the cut and the superior fit. Plus, all the dresses Croquis ever showed were pure, swan white. This one isn’t.”
“What is it, then?”
“Crème.” She bit her lower lip. My eyes slid up from the sketch to meet her gaze. She waved the sketch off. “It’s fine. Worst-case scenario, I’ll cut some of the detail.”
“No,” I said. “You won’t. It’s perfect, and it’s you. Keep it.”
Her throat worked. My eyes dipped to her delicate neck. I wanted to kiss it.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Thanks.”
“Got any sleep?”
“Yeah, some.”
“Wanna hop into the shower? Maybe I could drop you off at yours?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Let’s go to work. We can still recoup some of the day.”
I grabbed my keys. I knew she’d follow. She never missed a chance to cease communication with me. But for the first time, I gave a shit.
I mean, of course I gave shits.
I gave a shit about Dad.
About Black & Co.
But never about a woman. Never about a date. The uneven rattle in my chest was a warning sign. My heart tested itself. Tap, tap, tap. Is this shit working?
I gritted my teeth and punched the elevator button, not looking behind me to see if she was there.
Three days later, Dad was conscious and good to leave the hospital. I picked him up while Mom prepared the house, whatever that meant. I drove around in circles, buying time, and he didn’t seem to mind, even though his time was precious. It occurred to me we hadn’t had a meaningful conversation about something that wasn’t work since the C-word had struck. Work was a safe topic. I doubted he could remember anything from when Julian had barged into his hospital room with his contract. Dad had still been unconscious when that had happened. Grant had advised me to go easy on him and not talk about things that might spike his blood pressure. Bothering him with the Julian bullshit wasn’t on my agenda.
We were circling the same side street, passing the same Pret coffee shop and the swell of the same cluster of students huddling together, and waiting on the same traffic light. There was something depressing about other people’s joy while you were miserable. It was all very in your face.
“I wish we could get out of the city,” Dad murmured, looking out the window. “It feels filthy in the summers without the rain or snow to clean it up. Doesn’t it feel filthy to you?”
As he said that, smoke billowed from three different manholes, and some drunken frat boy hurled a beer can across the street at his friend, laughing.
“We can get out of here, if that’s what you want,” I said, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. I didn’t want to leave the business with Julian sniffing around the management floor. I didn’t want to leave Madison to fall in comfort with mediocre Ethan. What kind of name was Madison Goodman, anyway? I couldn’t let her go through with it. But Dad’s wishes had to take the front seat.
“Julian
suggested we go to the ranch house in Lake George for the weekend. He even had it prepared for us,” Dad added.
Julian would drown you in the lake if it means inheriting the business, I was tempted to reply. I smiled serenely. “He did that? Great idea.”
“You can bring Madison, of course. I think she’d like it there. Lots to do. Very outdoorsy. Where is she from again?”
“Pennsylvania,” I answered. “Just outside Philadelphia.”
“Does she have any siblings?”
“No. Her mother struggled with . . .” I stopped.
Dad finished for me. “Breast cancer, right?”
“Yeah.” I was an idiot. An idiot who needed to change the subject. “Her parents owned a flower shop. Well, her dad still owns it.”
“Are they close?” Dad asked.
“Yup, real tight. She goes to see him and his girlfriend every other month. They take vacations together every year.”
“You know a lot about her, don’t you?” He turned to look at me, smiling. I did. I didn’t remember listening to what she had to say—not intentionally, anyway—but I remembered everything she’d told me about herself. Which wasn’t much, because talking was never something I’d encouraged in our relationship. But right now the burning question was whether Mad was going to humor me by joining me for another weekend outside the city. I didn’t think she would.
My father’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he picked it up on speaker. “Jul,” he said, his voice softening. He definitely didn’t remember the contract. “How is Clemmy?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. She’s fine.” Dad must’ve cockblocked the real reason he was calling. I wondered if Booger Face was ever in Julian’s mind. “Hey, look, Amb spoke to the maintenance company. The house in Lake George is good and ready. Should I pick you and Lori up, say, Friday morning?”
He was going to whisk my parents off for a weekend with his family? Sans Katie and me, while Dad was on the brink of dying and pretty much in hospice care? Hell no. I could smell his plan from miles away. Julian wanted to butter Dad up before he went for the CEO kill. Somewhere my sister and I couldn’t stop him.
“Sounds good,” Dad said. “Have you spoken to Katie?”
“No. I think she has a volunteering gig with Saint Jude’s this weekend,” Julian said. It sounded like he was sifting through papers in the background. Possibly more bullshit he wanted my father to sign. “You know how Katie is. Always a do-gooder.”
“You should try again. Katie usually volunteers every end of the month.” I butted into their conversation.
There was a pause from Julian’s end. Then he recovered. “Chase. I didn’t realize you were there.”
“He is my father.”
“Biologically, anyway.” Julian laughed good-naturedly. “You two are very different, though.”
“What’s that?” I asked, taking one last turn onto that side street before making my way to my parents’ apartment building. “Would I like to join you at the ranch? Of course I would. How nice of you to offer, Julian.”
There was a pause and then, “Bring Maddie with you. Amber’s been dying to see the engagement pictures.”
“I will.” Will I? Last I checked, Madison was going to extreme lengths to avoid me. She’d been dodging my calls and text messages. At this point, the only thing stopping her from slapping a restraining order against my ass was the fact we worked in the same building. Still, I couldn’t not be there. She had to understand.
“Great. Looking forward to it.” Julian’s voice was too relaxed. Too blasé.
But I was too enraged to realize it was a trap.
Too goddamn rabid to know what I was willingly walking into.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MADDIE
September 25, 2008
Dear Maddie,
Today I found cigarettes in your backpack. Again. We had an argument. It was bad. You said it was a mistake. It’s not a mistake if you continue doing it. You must have a reason to repeat the same action over and over again.
Whether you want to rebel or get distracted or you simply got addicted.
It’s like the corpse flower that smells like rotten meat. It smells like this because it is rare and vulnerable, not by chance.
Every decision you make has a reason. Think about it.
Love,
Mom. x
This time, I didn’t lie to myself.
Didn’t fight it or deny it. It had a name. Mom had said it best in a letter years ago, when I’d tried smoking when I was going on fifteen. It was an addiction.
When I saw Chase’s name on my caller ID, I picked it up on the first ring. When he invited me to the ranch, ready to launch into a convincing speech, I cut off his arsenal of arguments and promises and accepted immediately. The carnal need to be there for him nearly paralyzed me. I knew, with certainty that bubbled in my veins, that it didn’t make me Martyr Maddie.
It made me someone who cared deeply for Chase and didn’t want to see him fail.
Layla was going to have a field day when she found out I was still playing with the devil. But knowing what I knew about Julian, about Amber, I felt responsible for Chase where they were concerned. Besides, our lie to his family was so big at this point it loomed over everything, my conscience included. It was a rolling snowball, growing larger each time it spun, swallowing objects and feelings and victims—Ethan, Katie, Clementine—as it descended an endless mountain of dishonesties. Even though I knew the snowball was going to hit something and pop at any minute, I couldn’t stop it. Coming clean didn’t seem like an option anymore. I accepted this was something Chase would have to deal with once he lost his father.
We arrived at the Lake George ranch early Friday evening.
The nineteenth-century stone building sprawled on a good portion of the ten-thousand-acre land the Blacks owned. The entire second floor was bursting with green double-doored balconies. Ivy curled up the building, the backdrop of the lake making the property one of the most magical things I’d ever witnessed with my eyes. The sun sank lazily toward the horizon, the sky surging with various shades of gold and pink.
I must’ve sucked in a breath when Chase helped me with my suitcases, because he glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “This one’s Dad’s favorite. The Hamptons is Mom’s playground.”
“Which one’s yours?” I asked, not fully realizing what I was insinuating.
He stopped walking, shooting me a charged frown. “You.”
He dropped my bags. There was a moment when I thought he was going to wrap his arms around me and kiss me. I wanted him to do that. Badly. But he just shook his head, getting rid of whatever it was he was thinking about.
“Don’t let me seduce you,” he growled.
“Okay.” We continued walking. “Why?”
“Because once I have you again, it will be impossible for me to let go. To let you be. To respect your decision.”
He hoisted my duffel bag over my spinner suitcase, taking my hand in his free one. The charade was back in full force.
We made it to the landing. Voices seeped from the dining room. Laughing, talking, whispering. Utensils clinked. Wineglasses too. We frowned at each other.
“Julian,” Chase clipped, his jaw tightening. “Must’ve told everyone we were running late and to start eating. Douche.”
“It’s time you put him in his place.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He glowered at me. “I let him off the hook because our parents, sister, and Clementine shouldn’t suffer through what I want to put him through.”
We made our way into the dining room, leaving the suitcases on the landing. The long table was fully hidden under platters and dishes. Fresh rolls, pitchers of sweating homemade iced teas, and bottles of wine were scattered on the pristine white tablecloth. The scent of smoked meat and seasoned vegetables laced the air. Saliva coated my mouth.
“Oh goodness, please tell us that story again. I cannot believe Clemmy said that!” Lori gushed.
“Start from when she walked in.” Amber’s tone was buttery, different. “When she saw the empty fish tank.”
“All right, all right. I’ll tell it again.” I heard Ethan laugh.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back it up. Ethan?
I didn’t have the privilege to be able to turn around and run for my life. I was already halfway inside the dining room when it registered. Chase was a step ahead of me, shielding me with his broad body, my hand still clasped in his. I felt the floor soften beneath my sandals, threatening to open its jaw and swallow me whole. My eyes connected with Ethan’s from across the table. Snakes danced in the pit of my stomach, sinking their venomous teeth into my insides.
He was there, sandwiched between Clementine and Amber, holding a glass of white wine to his mouth, wearing a Puppy Dog Pals tie.
Looking back.
Looking furious.
I browsed through my memories, replaying our latest communication. Where we’d left things off. We spoke on the phone this week but made no plans to meet up. Things had reached the point of fizzling out, and I thought both of us were okay with that. Ethan said he’d been invited somewhere this weekend. I said I had plans too. We’d both been cryptic. Now I knew why.
Ethan was always on the margins of my story. A secondary character I’d gone running to whenever I’d pushed Chase away. In trying to please him, to cater to him, to love him, I’d given him false hope. In trying to spare his feelings, I’d done something cruel to him. Martyr Maddie, I now understood, had a dark side.
The slow, spreading grin on Ethan’s face told me he wasn’t caught off guard as I was. He’d known. It was a setup. My remorse morphed into fury. I straightened my spine, tilting my head up.
I didn’t know when I’d stopped holding Chase’s hand. When my fingers clenched into fists, my nails dug into my skin.
“Well, this is awkward. Didn’t you say you two know each other?” Julian whistled low, taking a sip of his iced tea. His voice was thick with excitement. It clawed at my skin. “Dr. Goodman is Clementine’s pediatrician. We thought it’d be nice to invite him over to enjoy the ranch on a rare weekend off,” he pointed out when Chase threw him a what-the-hell look.
