by Jill Shalvis
Jace jerked upright from the floor. He’d clearly been sleeping, as he stared at her befuddled for a beat. “What?”
“He drives me insane!”
“Ah.” He nodded and drew a deep breath, awareness coming fully into his heavy-lidded, sleepy eyes. “Warren.”
“Walker! And what is that between you two anyway?”
Jace snorted. “If you don’t know, I can’t help you.”
“You’re not jealous of him,” she said slowly. “Because you and me have never been a thing. Probably because you’re my boss and you don’t like hanky-panky going on between your employees.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “But that’s not why we’re not a thing. It took me six months to even get you to talk to me. You’ve got trust issues.”
“Hey.”
“Plus you friend-zoned me before I could blink,” he said, looking amused but also serious.
He was trying to make a point, she realized. “Jace, we’re not attracted to each other like that.”
“Okay, first, any straight man with blood flowing through his veins would be attracted to you, but you’re right,” he said, “we’re not a thing, and before you freak out, I don’t want to be a thing.” He smiled. “Mayhem Maze.”
She blew out a breath. “She’s way in my past.”
“If that’s true, it’s a shame. And second,” he went on, “protectiveness and possessiveness are two traits that don’t really have a lot of logic attached to them. I see the way he looks at you, Maze.”
“Like he wants to strangle me?”
“Like you’re lunch. And,” he went on when she opened her mouth, “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. I’m fire retardant.” She stepped over him and climbed into the bed. “Thanks for giving me the bed for a second night in a row. You can have it tomorrow—”
The knock at the door stopped her cold. It was immediately accompanied by a low, unbearably familiar voice. “Maze.”
“Oh my God, it’s him.” She jumped up to shove the blanket and pillow Jace had been using under the bed, then hopped back in between the sheets. “Come on,” she hissed at Jace.
But instead of getting into the bed with her, he moved to the door.
“Wait—where are you going? No, don’t answer it!” she whisper-yelled just as he opened the damn door.
Jace looked at Walker for a long beat. “I’m going to take a shower,” he finally said. “A long one. After, I’m going to go down to the dock to stargaze.”
“You want to go stargazing now, in the middle of the night?” Maze asked in disbelief.
Jace turned to her. “No, Maze. I want to give you and Walker a moment. Because clearly it needs to happen. You two are just too stupid to figure that out for yourselves.”
“Hey,” she said, automatically defensive at the “stupid” comment, but she slid a look at Walker, who was eyeing Jace with an interesting expression she couldn’t quite place.
The door shut and then she was alone with her husband. She yanked the covers up to her chin. “What?”
He leaned back against the door. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Nope. Having secrets is more your thing.”
He gave her an impressive eye roll, sauntered closer, and sat at the edge of the bed near her hip.
She raised her hands in the universal what? gesture.
“There are some things I want to say.”
“Then say them and get out.”
“Yes, I kept in touch with Caitlin and Heather,” he said. “Actually, Caitlin kept tabs on me. Made me come into town for every excuse under the sun. Then she’d boss me into sticking around for a few days. Against all understanding, she loves me, treats me like I belong to her, and has expectations that go with it.” His smile faded. “Heather was different. I had to go after her and butt my way in and pretty much figure out for myself she was in trouble.”
Maze’s chest hurt thinking about Heather being alone, pregnant, scared, and in pain. “I’m glad she had you,” she said softly. “And that neither she nor Caitlin was ever really alone.”
“And like I told you last night, neither were you.”
She met his gaze.
“I always knew where you were,” he said. “When you worked on that cruise ship for one whole cruise, quitting because you were seasick the whole time. When you moved to San Jose and got a job at a new club, then punched out one of the patrons for getting handsy. When you tried San Francisco but couldn’t really find your place.”
She gaped at him. “Two years ago,” she said, “when my car died and I couldn’t afford a new one, I got cash in the mail. Two grand. That was you, wasn’t it?”
He just looked at her.
“Oh my God. It was.” Her chest felt like it was caving in on itself. “Why didn’t you just show up at my door?”
“You’d made it clear you didn’t want to see me or need my help.”
And yet he’d helped anyway. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“Because you felt obligated,” she said.
“Wrong.”
“Then what?”
“I think I’ll let you wrestle with that one.” He tossed the file with the divorce papers into her lap. “You forgot those. You need to sign them.” He glanced at the pillow on the floor and then at the closed bedroom door. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”
She chucked one of her pillows at him, but he easily ducked it.
“I wouldn’t sleep with your eyes closed if I were you,” she said.
He flashed a smile at that. “Never do.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Guilty.” He picked up her hand and studied it.
“What are you looking for?”
“A diamond. A year is a long time to be with someone. Any smart man would’ve locked it down with you by now.”
Her stomach went a little squishy. “I’m not the type of woman a guy wants to keep.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “You’re wrong about that, Maze.”
Right. She had a long history of not being good enough, and he was a big part of that history. “Go away, Walk.”
When he didn’t move fast enough to suit her, she picked up her other pillow and aimed it at him. He flashed her a grim smile and slipped out of the room before it could hit her intended target: his smug face.
Chapter 8
Maze’s updated maid of honor to-do list:
—Don’t kill the man of honor.
Maze was still awake the next morning because . . .
She.
Was.
Married?
Good God. She rolled out of bed and . . . oh yeah, tripped over her pretend boyfriend, Jace.
Her life was officially a sitcom.
“Hey,” Jace grumbled sleepily, and sat up. “There’s no acceptable reason for waking me up at . . .” He blinked at the clock. “. . . Jesus, five A.M.—unless morning sex is on the table.”
“Dream on.”
“I was dreaming just fine, thank you very much—”
A knock came at the door. Maze froze for a beat, then tore off her sweatpants, leaving her in just the oversized T-shirt and cheeky panties. “Get up here,” she demanded as she leaped back into bed. “He doesn’t believe that we’re together and I need him to.”
“Why?”
“So he won’t be able to melt my cold, hard heart. There. Are you happy?”
When Jace just looked at her in disbelief, she waved her hands frantically.
“Come on, come on!”
“You’re unhinged, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah, now get your ass up here and fake being into me. I know, I know, but just pretend I’m whoever you were dreaming about,” she said.
“I wasn’t—”
“Right. So that’s a gun in your shorts then?”
“Shit,” he muttered, getting into bed with her. “This is awkward.”
“It’
s only awkward if it’s for me.”
He adjusted “it.” “Trust me, it’s not. You’re too mean.”
There was another knock and an accompanying teeny-tiny demanding voice. “Jace!”
Maze relaxed and smiled. “Sammie!” she called out, shoving Jace away from her. He was laughing so hard, he hit the floor. “Come on in, baby!”
The door opened. Sammie was bouncing up and down like the Energizer Bunny, but she wasn’t alone. Behind her was Heather in a matching pj set with little kitties on them. Her hair was wild, and a pillow crease ran across a cheek. She looked like she was twelve. “It’s a pajama party. Remember when we had those?”
Caitlin appeared next to her wearing a pretty silk robe and slippers, with perfect hair and . . .
“Are you wearing mascara already?” Maze asked in disbelief.
“Of course,” Caitlin said.
Maze laughed, but it dried up in her throat when she realized Walker was behind Cat, wearing his sweat bottoms from last night. He’d added a T-shirt from—she stopped breathing—the dive bar in Vegas where their problems had all begun.
They all came in. Walker eyed the pillow and blanket on the floor with Jace.
“Fell out of bed,” Jace said easily, and rose to his feet.
“With your blanket and pillows?” Heather asked.
“Yep.”
Maze slid her gaze to Jace’s boxer shorts as he got into bed next to her. Luckily, morning wood was no longer a problem. Good thing too, because before she knew it everyone was on the bed—except Walker. He walked slowly into the room, purposely eyeing the pillow and blanket on the floor before meeting Maze’s eyes.
Dammit.
She was now sandwiched in between Heather and Caitlin, with Jace at her feet and Sammie trying to climb on top of him, but for a second, all that craziness faded away. It was only her and Walker in the room, which both gave her a secret thrill and pissed her off.
“Up!” Sammie yelled at Walker.
“Yeah,” Heather said to him, patting a corner of Maze’s bed. “Up.”
“I’m good.” But he scooped up Sammie and, to her screaming delight, hung her upside down off the back of his shoulders. Then he playfully tossed her to the bed. She bounced and squealed and gave a sweet belly laugh. Caitlin leaned in to tickle her . . . and Sammie stopped laughing and gave her a deadpan look.
Walker laughed.
“It’s not funny! I want her to love me. I need her to love me.”
“She will,” Heather promised, ever the peacemaker. “Sammie, remember those brownies we make? Caitlin taught me how to make them. She also tells the best stories. I used to crawl into her bed at night when I got scared and she’d read to me. You like being read to.”
Sammie remained unconvinced.
“It’s okay,” Caitlin said with false cheer. “I guess I can’t be loved by everyone.”
Everyone but Maze laughed. She was just too aware of Walker standing bedside while Jace was actually in the bed and under the covers with her. Seriously, how did she manage to get herself into these situations? She sighed and forced herself to check into the conversation going on around her.
“I mean, I don’t get why wanting to be a mom with a simple job is so strange,” Cat was saying. “He has a life list, and children are on it.” She turned her head to look at Maze. “What do you think?”
She thought she was currently too busy having a freak-out to speak intelligently. But since Caitlin could spot a freak-out from ten miles away, she smiled and nodded. “You need to follow your dreams. You want to be a mom sooner than later.”
“But that’s not crazy, right? I’d make a good mom. I mean, I really think that raising kids, my own or otherwise, is the most important thing I’ll ever do. Like my parents did.”
“They were good at it,” Heather said. “And you would be too. We learned a lot from them, they’re amazing. I mean, I never thought I’d have a kid, but now I can’t imagine my life any other way.”
“But what if Dillon’s not on board?”
“Cat, you should do what you want,” Maze said.
“Yeah, that’s not exactly how healthy relationships work,” Caitlin said dryly. “Healthy relationships are about the three Cs.”
“Calamity, cluelessness, and catastrophe?” Maze asked.
Jace laughed, and she glared at him.
“Communication, commitment, and compromise,” Caitlin said.
“Well, compromise means he has to give something up as well,” Maze said.
Cat gave her a look. “I’m not sure you understand how these things go. I mean, you barely committed to keeping a plant alive for a week.”
Maze opened her mouth and then shut it. Because what Cat said was true.
“Not everyone’s known since they were a five-year-old what they wanted to be, Cat,” Walker said with a slight censure in his voice.
Surprised by his defense, Maze looked at him. He met her gaze—his unreadable, of course. But he knew her, maybe better than anyone. He certainly knew her better than she knew herself, or so it seemed at times. She had no idea what the hell she wanted out of her life, but she did know one thing for sure. “Very few people get a real shot at happiness,” she said carefully. “I just want to make sure you get a shot at yours.”
Caitlin looked at her, like, really looked at her. “Are you okay?”
At that, everyone craned their necks and stared at her. Awesome. And no, she wasn’t okay. She was never okay. “I’m great. And starving.” She rolled off the bed, not so accidentally kicking Walker in the shins while she was at it.
Five minutes later she was in the kitchen, watching Caitlin working on a huge spread while everyone else showered and dressed for the day. It was shockingly impressive. The girl had been born to take care of people.
Maze was definitely missing that gene. But in spite of Cat liking to do everything herself, she stepped in to make toast.
Cat smiled. “Just like the old days. You making toast.”
“It’s the only thing you’d ever let me do.”
“Because you hate to cook.”
Maze smiled. “But I do love to eat.”
Cat smiled too and set her head on Maze’s shoulder for a beat. “I’m sorry about before. I know sometimes I sound bitchy.”
“Sometimes?”
Caitlin laughed and hugged her. “Missed this,” she whispered. “Missed you. So much.”
Maze wrapped her arms around her. “Me too.”
“Today’s going to be a busy day. Wedding errands and chores, et cetera.”
“We’ll help,” Maze said.
“Thanks.”
They pulled apart.
“Do you ever miss those days?” Cat asked. “When we were little and lived at Mom and Dad’s house and had no worries?”
Maze always had worries. But the answer was simple: “Yes.”
Her eyes fell on the two small framed pics hanging by the fridge. The first one was of Cat sitting at the lake’s edge with a laughing Michael. Maze remembered that day. She and Cat had been tasked with babysitting Michael, which had never been a task in Maze’s eyes. Playing tag with him on the edge of the water had been more fun than anything else, and she’d loved being with him. Caitlin too. Because the two of them had been so . . . normal. They had no idea what the big, bad world was like, and when she was with them, Maze could pretend she didn’t know either.
Hungry for those days, she looked closer at the pic. Cat was laughing too, looking open and happy. And carefree. Seeing it made her realize something: she hadn’t seen carefree Cat since . . . since . . . After Michael’s death, Cat had taken everything on as her personal responsibility. Making sure her parents got through losing their son. Making sure to keep in touch with Walker and Heather and Maze when they’d all been separated. She’d become Head In Charge of Everything, and as a result, carefree Cat had been buried with her brother.
Feeling an ache in her chest for all Cat had been through, Maze turned to
the second pic. It was of Cat’s parents, looking vibrant and happy. “I’ve never seen that picture,” she murmured.
“It was two years ago, right before Dad’s diagnosis.”
Maze sucked in a breath. “Diagnosis?”
“Cancer. It appears to all be gone now, though. We’re holding our breath.” Caitlin pointed at her with the whisk. “You’d have heard about it from me before now if you’d asked about them even once.”
Maze cringed. “I know. I’m so sorry. It’s . . . complicated.”
“Complicated how? They loved you and doted on you all the time. Hell, my mom favored you over both me and Michael. You could do no wrong. They did everything they could for you, got you into the same classes as me, offered to help you stay in contact with your mom if you wanted, clothed and fed you, kept you safe—which you didn’t care about, I know, but my point is they cared. So much, Maze.”
Until the fire, that is, after which they’d moved on without her.
Actually, that wasn’t fair. They’d reached out to her just a few months after the fire, asking how she was. She’d responded, and a part of her had hoped it meant they’d be coming for her. But at that point, they still hadn’t had a big enough place. Maze could admit that at the time, she hadn’t understood the depths of what they’d been through. All she’d known or thought about was what she’d been through.
A few years or so later, she’d texted them, just a breezy “hi, thinking of you, hope you’re well” sort of thing. They’d responded sweetly and suggested that they meet up for lunch sometime.
Maze had stared at their response for days, before ultimately deleting the text rather than replying. She still didn’t know why exactly.
Wait. That was a lie. She did know. It was called hurt. She was still acting like that abandoned teenager.
Then she’d further screwed up at the anniversary party, the last nail in the coffin of that relationship.
“Well?” Caitlin asked.
“You don’t get it.”
“Why? Because I’m the real kid?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
