by Calia Read
She arches a brow and smiles at me. “Yes?”
“I’m curious, but how often is the porch ceiling painted?”
She leans toward me, her eyes serious. “Every year. It’s crucial.”
I open my mouth to ask why, but Scarlett cuts in. “I’m not fond of the color. When Étienne and I marry, I’m having it painted a simplistic white.”
Nat’s head whips in Scarlett’s direction so fast, her hat tilts to the side. Red stains her cheeks and travels down her neck, slipping underneath her blouse.
I know why I wanna cut a bitch, but why is Nat so upset?
“You can’t change it. Belgrave’s porch ceilin’ has been that color since my mama was a little girl.”
“Why?” Scarlett asks.
“It keeps away the spirits, and blue is the color of water. And spirits can’t travel across water.” Nat finishes her words with an expression that says, “Duh. Everyone should know that.”
But if I’m honest, even I didn’t know this tidbit of information. Guess you learn something new every bout you time travel.
“When my parents passed, Étienne made sure the porch was painted every year,” Nat explains with a hint of pride in her voice. Her eyes turn steely. “That will not change.”
Scarlett’s eyes widen in shock. She nods her head, bearing a resemblance to a bobblehead doll. “If it means that much to you, it will remain the same.”
Scarlett gently digs her heel into the horse’s side and canters toward her brother and Livingston.
“Oh, dear.” Nat sighs. “I do believe I’ve upset her.”
“I do believe you have,” I murmur faintly.
I’m trying to decide which Lacroix sibling is more terrifying when they’re angry—Étienne, Livingston, or sweet Nathalie?
Sweet Nathalie.
When she spoke, her eyes became steely and determined, spine erect. Typically, Nat’s the peacemaker, but she looked like she was seconds away from cussing Scarlett out when she said she wanted to re-paint the porch ceiling.
A few seconds pass, and I clear my throat. “You don’t believe in spirits, do you?”
Nat gives a subtle shrug and then winks. “You don’t believe my brother no longer loves you, do you?” she asks rhetorically.
Before I can reply, Nat takes off and catches up to her friend, no doubt to apologize because this is Sweet Nathalie we’re talking about. I watch as she taps Étienne’s fiancée on the shoulder. Scarlett looks in her direction, and the two of them start speaking.
“I enjoyed our brief conversation at Nathalie’s engagement party.”
At the sound of Nicholas’s voice, I jump and hold a hand to my heart. “Holy shit. You scared me.”
“I apologize. That wasn’t my intention.”
I fling my hand toward Nat and Scarlett. “Weren’t you up there?”
“I was, and now I’m here. You were daydreaming when I slowed down.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming.”
“You were.”
I smirk and look at Nicholas from the corner of my eye. I expected trust fund boy to bow out of horseback riding within the first fifteen minutes, but his demeanor is relaxed as his horse slowly clomps down the driveway. When I saw him at the carriage house, his black hair was slicked back, but now strands blew across his forehead. His blue eyes seemed even brighter than I remembered. His profile is nothing but sharp planes and angles.
“I wasn’t,” I counter.
He grins at me. “Must you always have the last word?”
“Yes.”
At that, he laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, but I don’t feel butterflies in my stomach like I do when I hear Étienne laugh. “As I was saying, I enjoyed our brief conversation at Nat’s engagement party.”
“You did?” I blurt.
I can’t tell if Nicholas genuinely wants to get to know me or if he craves to discover the etiology of Étienne and me. I could ask him, but I don’t feel like destroying this moment. It’s nice to have him look at me as if I’m some mysterious woman, whereas if I told him I time traveled, he’d be in search of the nearest insane asylum to have me committed to. That might not be half bad. At least then I wouldn’t have to watch Étienne and Scarlett together. He pulled his horse up next to Scarlett’s minutes ago and has been speaking to her ever since.
Nicholas smiles, revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth. “Yes, I did.”
“Were you there? I was a bitch to your sister.”
Nicholas coughs into his fists over my blunt words, causing Étienne to look over his shoulder at us. I shoot him a look that screams, Mind your own beeswax.
Scarlett touches his arm. I flinch as he reluctantly pulls his gaze away and gives her his full attention.
“I know my sister can be...oh, what’s the word?” He clucks his tongue before he snaps his finger and grins at me. “Pretentious. However, she’s quite pleasant once you get to know her.”
I snort over the last of his words. Something tells me Scarlett and I won’t ever get to know each other. The dislike is mutual on both ends.
At this time, Étienne stops in the middle of the driveway and tells us we’re taking a right on a path that leads toward the pond. In a flash, the memory of Étienne and I swimming in the pond plays through my mind. My breath becomes stuck in my throat, and my heart pounds in my chest. As the six of us inch toward the narrow dirt path, I rapidly blink away the recollection and slip into the present.
It takes me a few seconds to focus on Nicholas. “And you don’t believe you’re pretentious?” I ask.
Nicholas tilts his head in my direction, a lock of black hair falling across his brows. “I suppose you should get to know me and find out for yourself.”
His blatant innuendo causes me to smile. The first time I met Nicholas, it was fun to flirt with him, just because Étienne got so fired up about it. But I’m slowly discovering Nicholas has a wicked sense of humor, rivaling my own.
“I had the most interesting conversation with someone from Charleston yesterday,” Nicholas says.
“Is that so?” I ask idly, my attention focused on the man in front of me with impossibly broad shoulders and hair that looks golden in the sun.
“Mmm-hmm. I mentioned your marriage to Étienne, and they had no recollection of said nuptial.”
I whip my head in Nicholas’s direction and stare at him. When I blurted out I was Étienne’s ex-wife, it was in the heat of the moment. Étienne didn’t dispute my claim, and nobody else has.
Until now.
Nicholas isn’t outright calling me a liar, but he certainly has his doubts.
I lift a shoulder and feign indifference. “I don’t know what to tell you. We were definitely married.”
“What does this person stand to gain by misleading me?”
“What do I stand to gain by lying?” I shoot back.
A corner of Nicholas’s mouth tilts up into a crooked grin. “I’m not certain. You tell me.”
My mouth opens. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Nicholas to shut the hell up and mind his own business when Étienne slows his horse down until he’s flanking my right. I suppress a groan and pretend I don’t see him.
“May I speak to you for a moment?” he asks.
I stare forward and try to ignore him, but that’s virtually impossible. Even in the outdoors, he sucks up the air and space until I’m left with no choice but to breathe him in.
“No, you may not.”
Nicholas’s eyes flick back and forth between us, narrowing his eyes at Étienne. Typically, when Étienne and I face off, anyone within fifty yards flees the premises. Nicholas, however, stays put and suffers through Étienne’s withering stare.
Trust fund boy has a set of balls on him. Who knew?
The silence and tension are becoming so uncomfortable I’m tempted to hurry ahead and join everyone else.
In front of us, I watch as Livingston turns the horse around and gallops back toward us. He makes a sharp turn until his horse is
in line with ours, and he’s next to Nicholas.
“Nicholas, your sister needs you,” he says.
In unison, Nicholas and I look in Scarlett’s direction. She’s trotting next to Nat and having—what seems to be—a deep conversation. I narrow my eyes at Livingston because I know what he’s doing. This is taking “bro code” to a whole new level.
“Is something wrong?” Nicholas asks.
Livingston shrugs. “I’m not certain. She simply asked for you.”
Nicholas glances at me and then his sister, clearly conflicted about where to go. Étienne offers no explanation. He’s unapologetically stubborn. His body language shows one thing: he’s not leaving until he speaks to me. Best to get this over with.
Sighing, I look at Nicholas and gesture toward Scarlett. “Go to your sister. I’ll catch up to you in a few minutes.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice mirroring his somber expression.
“Absolutely.”
Reluctantly, Nicholas urges his horse into a gallop, and as everyone begins to head down the pathway, Nicholas follows them. Livingston turns to Étienne. “I can divert Scarlett and Nat’s attention for ten minutes at best. Make this quick, all right?”
Étienne nods, thanking his twin. Without meeting my gaze, Livingston catches up with the rest of the group. The live oaks swallow him up, but his voice carries behind him. I can hear him regaling everyone with one of his stories. They’ll be entertained for a while.
Étienne and I soon reach the dirt path, but rather than traveling down it, we stop. I can feel Étienne scrutinizing me. Every part of me is tingling and unbearably sensitive. Even the material of my shirt pressed against my skin is starting to become intolerable.
Étienne seems blissfully unaware and gets straight to the point. “What was Nicholas speakin’ to you about?”
“He was telling me he spoke to someone in Charleston about our pretend marriage.”
Étienne narrows his eyes. “Who did he speak to?”
“Don’t know. Wouldn’t tell me.”
“I knew someone would be skeptical.”
I shrug. “Nicholas is harmless.”
Étienne mutters something unintelligible under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’.”
If the connection between Étienne and me wasn’t apparent earlier, it is now. Somehow, though, it remains out of reach, but I know if I extended my hand far enough, I could reach out and grab it. How I can feel tempted to fall into our routine while I still have anger directed at him frustrates me.
Étienne nudges his horse toward the right and heads down the path. I follow, and soon, our horses walk side by side in sync.
“Have you heard anything from Asa?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
“No, I have not.”
“Is it normal to go this long without hearing from the other person?”
“Sometimes. If someone is very busy.”
I snort. “Well, it’s not as if Asa’s branding cattle.”
Despite the anger our harsh words can incite, one side of Étienne’s mouth curls upward. “I promise to let you know the minute I do.”
Meeting his gaze, I say quietly, “Thank you.”
Étienne stares back. Thousands of things are running through his head. I can see it in his eyes. I would love to know one, though. Right then, he gives me my wish. “When you hear from him, what are you gonna say?”
I hesitate. “I’m not certain I want to tell you.”
The truth is, I want to tell him. Telling him everything is a habit I formed when I first came to Charleston in 1912. And good things came out of that habit. I fell in love. I discovered the real Étienne.
Perhaps that’s the reason Livingston and I were fighting like cats and dogs. I kept expecting him to turn into Étienne only to be disappointed. As much as I hated to admit it, I still needed Étienne but was resisting.
“Is this how you’re gonna treat me?”
I look at him from the corner of my eye. The sun’s been playing peekaboo with the fluffy clouds since I arrived at Belgrave. As we guide our horses across the empty land, another cloud camouflages the sun. Being this close to Étienne, I can see the stubble on his face. My heart flips at the image; that’s the man I fell in love with, yet it’s not the man I’ll end up with. “You’re engaged, Étienne.”
“I’m aware, Serene. You have made me remarkably aware of that tidbit.”
I stare down at the reins in my hand. “Then don’t talk to me. Go to her.”
“I have given you space and—”
“No, you haven’t,” I cut in. “You use your sister and brother to fish for information and as messengers.”
“Because you refuse to speak with me.”
I whip my head toward him, strands of my hair blow across my face. “Then take the hint.”
Étienne tilts his head toward the sky. His jaw is clenched as he fights to remain calm. He may think I’m petty or childish by refusing to talk to him, but it hurts me as much as it pains him.
Every time I see Nat, a tiny part of me hopes Étienne is behind her. Or when I step into Livingston’s home after spending the day with Nat, I hold my breath, bracing myself to hear the deep timbre of Étienne’s voice as he speaks to his twin.
A wounded heart is a hungry monster. Right when I think I’m okay and I’ve given my heart everything it could possibly need, a memory will hit me or a particular scent will touch my senses, and I’m back to square one.
Étienne looks at me, frustration and agony in his eyes.
I’m being a bitch. I know it. My words are harsh but so is the pain I’m feeling inside. I don’t know how to be around Étienne without lashing out. The truth is, deep down inside me, I’m afraid I’ve romanticized my relationship with him. Maybe he didn’t love me quite as much as I loved him. Maybe our connection wasn’t as deep as I thought it was
I want to confess my feelings, but telling the truth is akin to having someone chop up your heart into discreet parts and pick the pieces they find the most appealing. When they’re done, you’re left with broken fragments and no possibility of reconnecting.
Tucking errant strands of hair behind my ear, I exhale. “This conversation is going absolutely nowhere. You should go to your fiancée before Livingston runs out of subjects to talk about.”
“No. I’m not finished speakin’.”
“I am.”
“I’m not,” he presses.
My patience has had ebbs and flows since I’ve come back, but his words make it unexpectedly break. “If you think for one second that I’m going to be one of those women who sits and waits for you while you dick around with Scarlett, then look somewhere else.” I nudge my horse closer until our knees brush and tip my head in the direction of Nicholas. “There are other fish in the sea. You’ve clearly moved on. Perhaps, I should do the same.”
With a light press of my legs, my horse begins to move forward.
Étienne’s hand snakes out with lightning fast speed and grabs my reins. I open my mouth to tell him that his fiancée is probably watching, but when I look forward, I see everyone is far into the distance, leaving us in their dust.
“When you came to my time engaged to another man, I wasn’t relentlessly cruel to you.”
“No, you’re right. You were a relentless dickchin because you thought I was someone else.”
“Serene, don’t test me right now. You know what I’m implyin’.”
I lean in until our noses are practically touching. “Yes, I know what you’re implying, but I didn’t plan to time travel. I didn’t plan to fall in love with you.”
“And I didn’t plan to fall in love with you,” he says gruffly as if the words have been pulled from his throat. “I didn’t plan for you to ravage every aspect of my life the way you did.”
His words make me suck in a sharp breath because he’s partially right. Love has laid waste to both of us. And now we’re left to make sense of the li
fe we have. For two people who crave control, it’s utterly terrifying.
My hands continue to shake as I grip the reins. Inside, I hear the ticking of a clock. Time is passing me by, and the animosity and disappointment aren’t fading as I expected they would.
Worry is beginning to blossom inside me. What if I never move past my anger with Étienne?
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Étienne I can’t be around him right now when the sound of hooves pounding rhythmically on the ground captures my attention. I turn my head and see Livingston coming toward us. Everyone else has stopped. They’re all staring at Étienne and me with interest.
Livingston slows down and stops beside his brother.
“Are you two finished?” he asks.
I glance at Étienne from the corner of my eye and find him staring straight ahead. His brows form a tight V, and his lips are pulled into a thin line. I know I’ve caused that expression to settle across his face. Regret surges through my veins, and my heart races. I open my mouth, but no words come out. And even if they could, would they be the right words, or would I merely make the situation worse?
I close my mouth and stay silent because it seems like the best thing to do.
“Hello?” Livingston snaps his fingers in front of Étienne. “Can you answer? Because I don’t think I have any more stories left to tell.”
“Yes. We’re done. Tell everyone to turn around and head toward the house. I have some business to attend to.”
Translation: if I’m around Serene any longer, I am going to throttle her.
Without a second look, Étienne takes off. My heart breaks; I hate being away from him, yet I don’t know how to be around him right now.
Shortly after, the group moves closer. They’re laughing, utterly oblivious as to how I’m feeling. My horse moves toward them in a slow crawl as I head down the path.
Before I lead my horse onto the driveway, I take a small detour. For Étienne, it’s been two years, but for me, it only feels like a minute since I’ve been gone. I vividly remember riding a bicycle with Nat toward the pond, our laughter trailing us and the wind pushing us forward. I remember taking a walk with Étienne one night and engraving SERENE WAS HERE into one of the trees.
I want to see if it’s there. It might not be there, but I don’t know. Because Old Serene doesn’t exist, and certain people from this era don’t remember me anymore, but I have to find out.
