by Read, Calia
Everyone politely talks with one another, but after several minutes, the lack of food becomes apparent and so does Serene and Livingston’s absence.
“Where are Mrs. Lacroix and Livingston?” Conrad asks.
Taylor lifts his gaze toward Belgrave and points. “There they are.”
Turning my head, I cup my fingers over my eyes and squint. I can distinctly see the outline of Serene and the sun blazing down on her red hair, and beside her is the man who gave me the greatest kiss I’ve ever had. Livingston.
Why, oh why did it have to come from him?
I think that’s what I can’t stop thinking about. There are endless men in this world, and my heart-stopping kiss came from Livingston.
I didn’t know how to accept that. Did I pretend it never happened?
There’s a fluttering in my gut as he walks closer. In any light, Livingston Lacroix is truly a sight to behold. Livingston’s not dressed for a picnic. Livingston appears to have rolled out of bed, half-heartedly buttoned his shirt, and grabbed the first vest he saw in his room. His sleeves were rolled up. His stride was slow to keep in time with Serene. With the sun shining down, strands of his coal black hair turn chestnut brown.
He turns his head toward Serene and laughs at something she says. His brilliant white teeth stand out against his olive skin tone. That smile seizes my attention, pulling my eyes to his lips. He has good lips. Much softer than I expected. I wouldn’t push him away if he kissed me again.
I shake my head softly to rid myself of the thought and quickly look away as he approaches our group. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and find him blankly looking at me. His eyes move away, and I feel as though I’ve been dismissed.
“Don’t fret, Hiscock. We have everythin’,” Livingston says as he places the picnic basket on the ground. He rests his hands on his hips and looks around at the bachelors the way a king would at his peasants. With that scowl on his face, the resemblance between him and Étienne is impossible to deny. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your spot next to Miss Pleasonton.” There’s an edge to his tone that has Serene lifting both brows.
I stand along with everyone and dust my hands and keep a dignified smile on my face. “May I speak with you for a moment, Mr. Lacroix?”
“Ma’am, I would love nothin’ more,” he replies with his charming smile. My heart may skip a beat, but I don’t fall to his feet like the rest of the women have.
Livingston falls in step beside me immediately. His arm brushes against mine. Given the chilly reception he gave me, I expect him to move away, but he doesn’t.
I look over my shoulder to make sure we’re a healthy distance away from the rest of the party. Taylor’s become a reformed gentleman and is now helping Serene sit on the blanket. The other bachelors are talking amongst themselves. Although, Conrad is looking this way. Quickly, I turn away and face the thicket of trees. “I remember the days where you weren’t at the theater or interruptin’ a lunch or dinner I was at,” I say wistfully.
“I remember the days when I wasn’t contractually obligated to see over your dowry. Are we finished with this trip down memory lane?”
I take my hat off and errantly tap it against my leg. “You need to be civil today.”
Livingston looks mildly surprised. “I am civil. In fact, I’m the most charmin’ Lacroix in my family.” He finishes his words with a smile. His dimple appears, and my pulse quickens.
Nothing is amiss. This is the same banter you always have. Keep your composure, Rainey. Don’t think about the kiss, and don’t talk about the kiss!
“I presume your charm doesn’t extend to Taylor because he’s not a woman?” I ask.
Livingston snorts. “No, it’s because Hiscock is a cretin.”
Narrowing my eyes, I link my hands behind my back. The ribbon attached to my hat brushes against my legs. “Harsh words for someone you’ve never spoken with.”
“Don’t need to. My intuition tells me he’s a cretin. Now if we’re done, I believe I’ll join everyone else.” He dips his head and turns around.
I don’t want to discuss Taylor. Or any of the bachelors. All I want to discuss is the kiss, but I can’t. Livingston is the very picture of calm and cool, and the kiss seems to be the furthest thing from his mind. I need to appear the same.
“Don’t impede on my time with them,” I blurt.
Livingston stops and looks at me over his shoulder with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. I know this man quite well, and he doesn’t take kindly to being told what to do. We’re alike in that way. Slowly Livingston walks back to me, maintaining a healthy distance between us. But I almost wish he was an inch away. Chest to chest. The fire in his eyes feels far more intimate. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I did not impede on your time with Duncan, did I?”
Wordlessly, I shake my head. At this point, I’m tapping my hat against my leg rapidly.
“You had every chance to get to know your bachelor. If you did not, that is your responsibility. Not mine.”
I open my mouth, but he steps forward, and now we’re standing with only inches between us. He speaks first.
“Come now, Rainey,” he says, his voice coaxing, “I think you realize by now there will be some people who you just know you will connect with, and others you won’t. You can have twelve dinners with these bachelors, see all the movies that are available, and allow them to escort you around Washington Square until your legs can no longer move, but if there’s no connection, you can’t place the blame on me. When you know, you know.”
I know with a certainty he’s not referring to the bachelors in the slightest. His words cause my hands to tremble. The temptation to kiss him returns with an intensity that takes me by surprise. Exhaling a shaky breath, I look away from Livingston and stare toward the trees.
I can feel his eyes on me. They’re trailing across my cheeks, lips, eyes, and down my neck. I take a deep, shuddering breath. Then I feel the slightest graze against my wrist. At once I stop tapping my hat and freeze. I take measured breaths in and out as his fingers drift down my palm. The touch feels like a feather against my skin, making my skin break out in goose bumps. Before he has a chance to pull away, my fingers curl around his. Lifting my head, I look at him and see a stark hunger in his gaze. “Rainey, I—”
Immediately, he lets go and steps away from me. Turning around, I see why.
Serene, with one hand on her stomach and the other shading her eyes from the sun, is walking toward us. “Are we going to eat soon? The baby and I are starving, and the longer I stand here watching the two of you spar with your words, the more Livingston’s head is beginning to resemble a sandwich.”
Livingston shifts back, giving Serene an alarming glance and gestures in front of him. “Well, I would hate to keep you waitin’.”
Serene nearly runs toward the plaid blanket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her move so fast.
Livingston and I follow her in complete silence. We both realize that we were almost caught for the second time being far too close. “We need to discuss …”
He arches a brow and gives me his devilish half-smirk. “Yes?”
“We need to discuss what happened in the ballroom,” I say in one giant rush.
So much for not discussing the kiss.
Livingston appears momentarily surprised before he nods thoughtfully. “We do.”
The moments when we agree are so few and far between. It’s like seeing a shooting star. You can’t help but savor the moment so you can think back to it during a gloomy day.
“However, your bachelors are lookin’ forward to your return so at a later time.” Anytime the word bachelor spills from his mouth, it’s bitter and hard as granite. Our peaceful moment is gone so swiftly.
Livingston gives the men a look filled with annoyance before he turns back to me. “That’s why Serene arranged this picnic, so you could better get to know the bachelors, right?”
Before I can answer, or even ask when we can talk about our kiss, he wal
ks away.
“Wait, Livingston—”
Frustration fills me as I watch him saunter away. Why did I ever naïvely think we could have a conversation about the kiss? He has doubtlessly kissed more women than I can ever begin to imagine. What was memorable for me would hardly bury itself in his memory.
By the time I reach everyone, Livingston’s sitting beside Serene and playfully picking at the food on her plate. She elbows his arm and narrows her eyes before she continues eating, causing him to grin.
Frowning slightly, I sit down across from him, next to Conrad and Taylor. Is this how it will be from here on out between us?
“Arrogant bastard,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m sorry, did you say somethin’?” Conrad asks.
I freeze for a moment and glance at him with wide eyes that I hope come across as innocent. “Pardon?”
“You said somethin’. I didn’t know if you were talkin’ to me?”
“Oh … I- no.” I look around as I grapple with a reply. “I was talkin’ to … myself?”
Taylor, along with everyone else, arches a brow. I even have Livingston’s undivided attention.
“I believe in positive affirmations,” I supply with a straight face.
Taylor nods. “That is a wonderful quality.”
“Mmmhmm.” I continue to smile while studiously refraining from looking in Livingston’s direction. He’s undoubtedly suppressing his laughter.
Arrogant, arrogant bastard … I repeat, this time in my head as I stare at Livingston. And I was the foolish woman who kissed him. Better it was just a kiss and nothing else, right? I still have my dignity and the ability to push the kiss into the darkest corner of my mind.
“Now what did that poor chicken do to you, Rainey?” Serene asks, pointing at my plate.
I look down and see the shreds of meat scattered across my plate. Between my hands are the remains of the chicken leg. Pity it wasn’t Livingston. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t anger I felt but hurt that Livingston could so easily forget. In order to move forward, I should want that, though, right? The truth is, the kiss should’ve never happened.
Knowing the truth didn’t make the situation any better. Because the truth is, I wanted the kiss to happen again, and again, and again. Placing the chicken leg on the plate, I wipe my hands on my napkin.
“I like my food to be in small, cut-up bits before I take a bite out of it.” I eat a piece of meat while I stare at Livingston.
There’s a heavy silence. Serene looks back and forth between the two of us with wide eyes.
With his elbows braced on his knee, Livingston tilts his head to the side and observes me for several seconds before he leans forward. His eyes gleam not with anger but with hunger.
“Miss Pleasonton, I believe you’re referrin’ to prey,” he says.
“Food and prey can be one and the same, Mr. Lacroix.”
Nobody around us says a word. Livingston narrows his eyes. I lift a brow. And then Livingston smirks at me because my temper isn’t something he hasn’t seen before. He knows me far too well. And maybe that’s why I’m scared and lashing out. This person who’s been a consistent and, at times, an annoying presence in my life is someone I desire.
Distantly, I hear someone clear their throat. At once, I break eye contact, anxious to look anywhere else.
“This is quite a spread,” Taylor says graciously.
“Thank you,” Serene replies.
“Mrs. Lacroix, did you make this?”
“Yep. I was in the kitchen all morning,” Serene says without missing a beat.
He takes a bite out of his food and chews for a second before he says around the bread, “Rainey, did you know the sandwich was invented by John Montagu? I believe he was the 4th Earl of Sandwich.”
I nod and direct all my attention to him. “Is that so? I did not know that.”
“Oh, yes. It’s said he requested his valet to place meat between two pieces of bread.”
“Fascinatin’,” Livingston murmurs although his eyes dance mischievously.
He takes a break only to wash down his food with some Coca-Cola. Holding the glass bottle away from him, he looks at the label. “Of course, the Coca-Cola’s story isn’t quite as interestin’, but there are some pieces of information you might care to know. Rainey, did you know Coca-Cola was originally intended to be a nostrum? And Rainey, did you know …”
And so began a string of information delivered in the form of, “Rainey, did you know …”
Taylor knew unimportant facts, but they were highly detailed. And he said them with such conviction I couldn’t help but nod along even though no one could get a single word in.
Livingston just sat there, placing his weight on his palms as he leaned back and watched it all unfold in front of him. A bemused expression danced on his face.
By some miracle, Serene manages to insert herself into the conversation. “You know a lot of facts, Taylor.”
“I do, I do. But armin’ ourselves with facts is very important.”
“I agree,” I say merely because he didn’t say “Rainey did you know …”
These minute details kept me busy from lifting my gaze and looking at Livingston.
“Serene, do you want another sandwich?” Taylor asks.
“I shouldn’t.” She pats her stomach. “Otherwise I’ll be farting up a storm.”
Livingston and I are used to Serene’s blunt words and crass humor. Taylor, however, isn’t. His cheeks turn beet red, and his thin lips draw into a line so small they nearly disappear.
“What’s wrong, Taylor?” Livingston asks.
“I’m taken aback. When I marry, my wife will do no such thing.”
“You mean fart?” Serene asks, fighting a smile.
The red from Taylor’s cheeks has spread through his entire face. It’s hard to say whether it’s from embarrassment or anger.
“Wait.” Serene winces. “I meant to say flatulence.”
“I understand it’s common and will happen, but it’s very unrefined.”
Serene’s eyebrows lift so high they nearly reach her hairline. She remains quiet and merely nods and smiles, but if I’m annoyed by Taylor’s remark, I can only imagine what Serene’s thinking.
Livingston, on the other hand, is positively beaming. He understands me well enough to know Taylor’s ludicrous and antiquated opinion is all I need to cross him off my list.
After that, lunch quickly sours. Livingston continues to keep the conversation going, but Taylor keeps looking in my direction, and I swear he’s sniffing the air discreetly as though he’s waiting for me to break wind.
And then, the conversation takes a swift turn when somehow one of the bachelors makes mention of the war.
“I must say, it’s good to have you with us, Lacroix,” Grady says.
Livingston smiles, but it’s a sharp smile. Meant to cut anyone who gets too close. “Thank you. It’s good to still be here.”
“We lost far too many great men in the war,” Conrad remarks.
At that, I look down at the blanket. Everyone murmurs their agreements. And for a reason I’ll never understand, Grady says to Livingston, “What was it like there?”
Livingston’s shoulders tense. I brace myself for his reply. In life, there are particular questions you don’t ask. You may think them, but manners stop you from saying your thoughts aloud.
My gaze meets Livingston, and for some reason, I think of the moment he came home...
Momma didn’t want to go to Charleston Port, better known as Army base terminal, and welcome home Livingston’s unit. It was said roughly a thousand men were to be expected. Word still hadn’t arrived if Miles was one of those men, and Momma’s nerves were frayed.
I couldn’t stop myself. I had to go.
I still remember what the Charleston Evening Post said on November 11, 1918, “This morning the cloud of war lifted from Europe and the agony of more than four years which Germany brought upon the world ended.”<
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This homecoming is something I couldn’t ignore. Even though I had a pit in my stomach about Miles because there was one person who would be stepping onto the platform. Livingston.
In the heavy crowd, I stood by Nat and Serene, with Étienne behind us. The conversations around us only heightened the furor for this momentous occasion. Standing on my tiptoes, I tried to peer toward the empty tracks as though a train was going to suddenly appear.
A large “Welcome Home” banner had been hung between two small buildings. Several people hold small flags in their hands. In the large crowd, there are mommas soothing their babies in prams or bouncing them in their arms to keep them from crying. Then there are the mommas repeatedly telling their rambunctious kids to stay away from the tracks.
“What could be takin’ so long?” Nat huffs impatiently.
“I believe they were stoppin’ at Camp Jackson first. It shouldn’t be long.”
Days ago, Livingston’s ship, USS Mercury, arrived at port, and his unit was taken by train to Camp Jackson to demobilize. It was frustrating yet exciting to know Livingston was hours from us.
Before Étienne could finish his sentence, a rumble can be heard from the tracks and then the sound of the train whistle cuts through all the conversations occurring in the crowd.
Nat grabs my arm. Her eyes nearly filling with tears. “They’re here!”
Everyone cheers. People lift their hands. Flags start waving in the air. Young kids find themselves on the shoulders of their relatives.
The next few minutes feel like hours as everyone in the crowd waiting for a loved one pauses with bated breath. There may be familiar faces in the horde of people, but most are strangers. On a day such as today, that doesn’t matter because all of us understand each other. The wait, fear, and apprehension are something that will connect us. The same way the soldiers on the train will be connected by the darkness of war.
Tragedy can be interesting that way. It always has a way of bringing the unlikeliest of people together.
