Well Played

by Jen DeLuca

  While we stopped off more than once at the human chess match—Simon’s domain—so that Emily could visit her fiancé, we gave a wide berth to the Marlowe Stage, where the Dueling Kilts were set up. In fact, Emily made a point of shooting a squinty side-eye in the direction of their stage, and I suddenly became very interested in the trees on the other side of the lane. I didn’t want to see the Dueling Kilts play. I didn’t want to see Dex, and I sure didn’t want to see Daniel.

  But the universe didn’t care about that. Later that day, while I took the long way around on my way to the front stage and the first pub sing of the year, I ran almost smack into Daniel, coming from the opposite direction, away from pub sing.

  For a couple heartbeats we just stared at each other, a little startled. “Sorry . . .” I started to say.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you like pub sing, so I was . . .” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, where the banners at the front gate were visible.

  “You were avoiding pub sing.” I nodded. “Avoiding me.”

  “Not avoiding. Giving you space.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched as though trying to make himself smaller, to take up less of said space. “Sorry,” he said again.

  I wanted to sigh a huge sigh, but I was still strapped into a corset, and this time of year sighs were something that happened after hours. Was this how all this was going to go? I couldn’t do four weeks of the both of us skulking around, hoping to avoid each other.

  “C’mere.” I hooked a hand around Daniel’s arm and pulled him back the way I’d come, down the lane and against the flow of traffic. There weren’t any more shows happening on this side of Faire, and the day was almost over, so there was only a trickle of patrons around us.

  He followed me without complaint, and I ducked into an almost-alcove made up of a small grouping of young trees. He took a deep breath when I turned to face him. “Listen . . .”

  But I wasn’t going to let him speak. It was my turn. “No, you listen.” I tightened my grip on his arm, and he made no attempt to pull free. He raised his eyebrows in a question, and I had trouble forming words. How dare he look so damned sincere, after everything I’d learned about him. How dare his eyes look so welcoming. How dare I want to forgive absolutely everything and start over again with him.

  “Tell me something,” I finally said, stepping closer to him, as though I wanted to tell him a secret. Screw personal space. It didn’t apply right now.

  “Anything.” He shifted his weight forward, bringing himself even closer. This close, I could see a sprinkling of freckles across his nose, and I idly hoped that he wore enough sunscreen.

  But I forced myself back on topic. “Why did you do it? Why did you lie about who you were?”

  He seemed to expect this question. “You were happy,” he said simply. “And I wanted you to stay that way.” He shrugged, his expression helpless. “I knew you didn’t want me, not really, but if I could keep talking to you and keep you happy . . .” He trailed off with another shrug.

  Damn. That was a pretty good answer. I forced my brain back on task. “Was it . . .” I cleared my throat. It was hard to speak with his eyes looking all green at me like that. “Was that the only lie? Or was it all . . . ?” I couldn’t finish that sentence. The thought of everything he said being fake was too much to contemplate. I tried one more time. “Was any of it real? The words, I mean. Did Dex tell you to say those things, or . . . ?”

  “No.” His eyes sharpened, chips of glass instead of green fire. “Dex had nothing to do with anything I ever wrote to you. I . . . Stacey . . .”

  “Anastasia,” I corrected him. A smile danced around the corners of his mouth.

  “Anastasia.” My full name was a soft breath, and utterly delicious when he said it out loud. “Everything I said . . . every email, every text. Those were all me. I promise. I know it was . . .” He swallowed, and I tried to not watch the movement of his throat with any interest. “I know it was a pretty big lie, but I swear it was the only one.”

  “Promise?” I asked, and he nodded. “No more lies?” I searched his eyes and saw nothing but honesty in them.

  “No more lies,” he echoed. “I promise. If I could take it all back, I would, believe me. I’d figure out a way to do it right instead.”

  “No,” I said. Despite the past few days, I wouldn’t want to take back our words. The way he’d made me feel. That terrible day he’d gotten me through.

  Besides, when I’d reminded him that my name was Anastasia, I’d already decided to forgive him, hadn’t I?

  So after another search of his eyes, I nodded slowly. “Okay.” My breath escaped my body with that one word, and with it went the tension, the doubt I’d been feeling.

  “Okay . . . okay, what?” His expression was guarded, as if he didn’t dare to hope.

  “Maybe we could . . . I don’t know. Start over or something?”

  “Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up and a genuine smile blossomed across his face, crinkling the edges of his eyes. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Me too.” My breath stalled in my lungs in a way that had nothing to do with my corset as his hand came up to touch the side of my face, tracing my cheekbone with his fingertips. His touch felt better than anything I could have imagined. I reached up to lay a hand on his shoulder, warm under his T-shirt. He caught his breath, and his hand curled under my chin, tipping my face up to his.

  “Anastasia.” His voice was hushed, my name reverent. “I’d really, really like to kiss you. Would that . . .” He swallowed hard and bent down a fraction. “Would that be . . .”

  “Okay.” I rose slowly up onto my toes, smiling.

  “Okay.” The word was said against my mouth as his lips finally met mine: a kiss that was months in the making.

  His kiss was a soft brush of lips and a rough scratch of stubble, almost over before it began, and I stretched up farther on my toes to keep his mouth right there where I wanted it.

  Daniel made it clear from the start that he was nothing like Dex. If Dex had kissed me out in the open at Faire like that . . . well, he never would have kissed me in public like that, first of all. The closest we’d ever come to any kind of PDA was outside the door of his hotel room, and we were in his room and up against the wall within thirty seconds. Everything with him had been down and dirty and in the dark, and there was a part of me back then that had really responded to that.

  But Daniel was different. He wasn’t down and dirty. His kisses were sweet, closed-mouthed, and achingly conscious of the fact that we were in public. If someone had walked by or thrown us a second glance, he would have stepped away from me immediately. But no one did, and after a few moments of soft, exploratory kisses that made my toes curl in my boots, he pulled away, just far enough to brush my cheek with his mouth.

  “Why don’t you come by tonight, after you’re done here?”

  “Oh.” My heart sank, and in an instant the promise in those kisses melted away like a sugar cube in the rain. Of course. There was the down and dirty. He knew the arrangement I’d had with Dex for the past couple summers, and now he was looking for his turn. I didn’t like the way that made me feel. Cheap. Like I was being passed around from one cousin to the other. No, I didn’t like that at all.

  It must have shown on my face, because Daniel’s eyes went wide and he looked chastened. “Stacey.” He moved toward me again, his hand cupping my elbow. It was a comforting touch, though I didn’t want it to be. I should have wanted to brush him away, not lean into him. “I’m not my cousin.” He caught my chin again and ducked down, catching my eyes with his. “Look at me. I need you to understand that.”

  “I do,” I said, but I didn’t sound convincing even to myself.

  “No,” he said, “you don’t. But you will. Please, come over tonight. Room 212. Okay?”

  I didn’t
want to be a cheap hookup to Daniel. But he’d just given me the sweetest kisses of my life, which deserved to be taken into account. Which was why I ultimately nodded. “Room 212. Okay.”

  Fourteen

  I almost talked myself out of it.

  I went home after Faire and took a long, hot shower. I dried my hair and snuggled with Benedick for a few minutes. I put on a cute dress. I took it off and pulled on yoga pants and a T-shirt. I put on makeup. I took it off. I was stalling.

  My phone remained silent, something I wasn’t used to these days. I’d grown used to those nightly check-ins from Dex . . . no, from Daniel. When I’d gotten home from the bar last night I’d changed Dex’s name in my phone to Daniel’s, but I was still working on reordering my thinking when it came to this whole mess. But he didn’t send any texts. He didn’t ask if I was coming or not. He was giving me space, as he’d said this afternoon.

  But I wasn’t sure if I wanted that space. I wasn’t sure what I wanted next with him. As I checked my phone for the fourth time since I’d gotten home, I realized that I missed him. I wanted to hear from him. And he was waiting, more patiently than I could have ever expected, for me to take what we’d had all these months off-line and into real life.

  I kissed Benedick on the top of his head, plopped him on the couch, and grabbed my keys. I’d stalled long enough.

  It didn’t take long to drive to the hotel, and before I could think too hard about it I was knocking on the door of his room. The relieved, almost overjoyed look on Daniel’s face when he opened the door told me that I’d made the right decision. He wasn’t looking for a hookup. He was looking for me.

  “You came!” He took my hand and led me inside. The genuine surprise in his voice almost made me sad; obviously he hadn’t thought me showing up was a sure thing. Dex had never thought I wouldn’t show up. Or maybe he just hadn’t cared.

  “Of course I did.” He didn’t need to know how long I’d dithered at my place. I could just let him think that it always took me this long to shower and throw on glorified pajamas and minimal makeup.

  He bent to kiss my cheek, his lips skimming over my skin, and I turned my head, catching his mouth with mine and turning it into a real kiss. He accepted it with a sigh, and his hand tightened around mine for a split second before letting go, dropping to rest at my waist. I let him pull me into him, enjoying the way we seemed to fit well together despite our height difference. My heart swelled, and suddenly I couldn’t recall why I’d been so unsure about all this. Sure, we needed to get used to each other, but Daniel and I had more in common than Dex and I ever had. Even if Daniel was after a quick hookup as Dex had been, a month with this guy would be so much better than any relationship I’d had lately. What was so bad about that?

  Besides, his mouth was warm on mine, his lips soft. I’d never had a more comfortable kiss, and I wanted to stay there forever. But my stomach growled, and I broke off with an awkward laugh and pressed a hand to my belly. “Sorry, I forgot to . . .” I trailed off as I realized that his room smelled delicious. For the first time, I looked past him into the hotel room. The television was on, the sound muted, and the table by the window was covered in Chinese takeout cartons.

  “Forgot to eat dinner? Good.” He nodded toward the table.

  I wandered over to the buffet he had set out. Lo mein, deep-fried something with neon-red sweet-and-sour sauce, a whole carton full of egg rolls, another of dumplings, and pepper steak swimming in brown sauce. “I mean, I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I can eat all this.”

  “I’d be impressed as hell if you did. But don’t worry. I know a few guys down the hall who’ll finish all this in a heartbeat.”

  “Oh?” I raised my eyebrows. “Are we having company?”

  “Nope.” His hand went back to my waist, a small show of possessiveness that I didn’t mind a bit. “They can have leftovers tomorrow morning. That’s what the mini-fridge is for.”

  “Breakfast of champions.” I glanced up at him, and the humor that danced in his eyes was an echo of my smile.

  “Exactly,” he said. “These guys are not picky. Now, come on, grab something to eat. They were just about to renovate the bathroom when you got here.” He nodded toward the television.

  “What?” My gaze flew to the muted television, which was tuned to one of those endlessly similar cable shows about people renovating houses. “Oh my God, I love these shows.”

  Daniel nodded. “I remember.”

  “You . . . remember?” My brow furrowed. He sounded so certain, as if it was something we did all the time that had become a familiar routine. Takeout Chinese and . . .

  Then memory sparked, and a slow smile spread over my face. “You remember.” It had been a throwaway email one night, when the hour was so late I’d forgotten what I’d typed until he replied to it. But I’d confessed one of my favorite guilty pleasures. Takeout Chinese and home renovation shows on cable. Something about lo mein going great with schadenfreude.

  “Of course I do,” he said. “I remember all of it.” He shrugged. “But you weren’t specific as to what kind of Chinese food you liked.”

  “So you got all of it.”

  He chuckled. “Something like that.”

  This night wasn’t turning out at all like I’d expected, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. When I’d come to this hotel to spend the night with Dex, there had been little conversation. Acrobatic sex, sure. But no real conversation. Now, Daniel and I propped ourselves up with pillows in his bed, our legs stretched out in front of us, passing the lo mein and dumpling cartons back and forth, digging into them with chopsticks while we heckled the married couple with more money than sense on the television.

  “Really?” I yelled. “You have a quarter of a million dollars to renovate a Philadelphia row house, and that’s the cheap garbage tile you pick for the bathroom?”

  “They have to make up for the money they spent replacing those hardwood floors somehow.” Daniel crunched into an eggroll.

  I tsked and shook my head. “They could have refinished the original ones for half that, easily.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Refinish a lot of floors, do you?”

  “I watch a lot of TV where other people refinish a lot of floors. I think that makes me an expert.”

  He considered that. “Close enough. I’ll accept that.”

  I slurped up one more bite of noodles while the couple on the screen bickered about the color of the shower tile. Their marriage wasn’t going to last beyond the renovation of that house. “I wonder what it’s like,” I finally said.

  “I think the green would have looked better, but that’s not the hill I want to die on.”

  “No . . .” I passed the lo mein carton to him. “I mean having a space like that. My place would fit in their kitchen, you know? I watch shows like this and wonder what it would be like to live that kind of life. Where you have an amazing space like that, and the money to make it exactly what you want.”

  On the television, the show segued into one about an even richer, even more nonsensical couple trying to decide which private island they wanted to buy. “I don’t know,” I said. “It seems like a lot of work. A lot of responsibility.”

  “The island? Definitely.”

  “Any of it.” I shrugged.

  “Hmm.” Daniel leaned to the side, placing the empty lo mein carton on the nightstand. “No idea,” he finally said. “I mean there’s the RV, but we rotate who sleeps there, so it’s not really mine. The biggest space I’ve ever had that’s all mine is my pickup truck. It’s nice and all, but it’s mostly decorated in last month’s fast-food wrappers.”

  I snickered at that, but looked at him thoughtfully as I finished off the last dumpling. “Yeah, you’re not exactly a putting-down-roots kind of guy, are you?”

  “Not really.” He leaned back on his pillows, and
I watched the flicker of the television screen in his eyes. “We’re here for the next month, and that’s probably the closest thing I have to putting down roots these days.”

  Right. He’d only be here for four weeks while the Kilts performed at Faire. But that month stretched before the two of us like a deserted highway, long and winding. Plenty of time. Why think about it right now? That was in the future. For now he was here, and that was all that mattered.

  “How does that work exactly?” I echoed his position, reclining on my side of his bed, my shoulders and head cushioned on my pillows but turned toward him. “I helped organize stuff this year, and I know we only cover the hotel for the weekends y’all perform for us.”

  “True.” He nodded against the pillows at his head. “We pay for the rooms during the week. This is a great central location, near DC and northern Virginia, so I’m able to book the guys into bars for shows at least two nights each week.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of like downtime, before we do the Maryland one. They can rehearse, I can get paperwork done.”

  “Sounds glamorous.”

  He snorted. “Oh, yeah. You have no idea.”

  The private island purchase wasn’t going well for our friends on the reality show. One island was perfect, but the mansion on it needed work. Another island was substandard, as private islands went, but the house was perfect. As for me, I was full of food and contentment, slowly growing sleepy as the mega-rich couple prepared to spend more money than I’d ever make in my lifetime. Before long I’d moved closer to Daniel, seeking out his warmth, and dozed a little with my head on his shoulder. His arm went around me, his fingertips stroking slowly up and down my upper arm. There was no expectation of anything physical. He hadn’t even kissed me since I’d first arrived.