Somebody to Love (34 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I
T
DIDN
’
T
FEEL
RIGHT
,
having the summer end like this.

Three days after Nicky’s incident, and Parker was still tense. She hadn’t seen James, though he’d come by when she was out and taken Apollo, leaving her a note that only said to call if she needed anything. On the house front, there’d been only one solid offer, so she supposed she’d have to take it, though it wasn’t a heck of a lot. Another couple had made a higher offer, but they had to sell their own place first, and time was of the essence for this sale. She and Nicky needed to get back to Rhode Island, settle into the new place. Two college friends said they could hook her up with a job—insurance or technical writing.

She really couldn’t picture doing either one. Then again, she hadn’t been able to picture fixing a leaky toilet before this summer, and she’d managed to do that.

They were leaving on Monday; today was Saturday. There’d be less traffic—more time to pack, not that there was much to pack up. Maybe she was stalling. She didn’t know.

Nicky, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to go. He’d been sullen since the night he hid, kept asking when he could go back to Daddy, and was generally rubbing Parker’s last nerve to a bloody nub. She found herself counting the hours till bedtime, then feeling like a horrible parent because she was so eager for her child to go to sleep.

It was Parker’s last day at the shop. There was a funeral in the next town, and she and Vin were making huge, somber arrangements. Well, Parker was; Vin was having a smoke, watching Nicky draw on the sidewalk with chalk through the window while Beauty kept him company.

“You gonna forgive that boy?” Lavinia asked abruptly.

“Nicky?”

“No, Parker. Jamie Cahill.”

“Oh.” She paused. “There was nothing to forgive. It really wasn’t his fault.”

“Well, he sure looks miserable. Saw him at Dewey’s last night. You dumped him, didn’t you?”

Parker glanced up, then resumed stripping the leaves from a stalk of gladiola. “No. It ended. He took a job in New York. I’m going back to Rhode Island. That’s all.”

Vin took a deep drag on her cigarette. “Coulda fooled me. The kid looks like what’s-his-name. Spartacus?”

“Spartacus?”

“What’s-his-name. The guy who turned in Jesus.”

“Judas.”

“Ayuh. That one. Guilty.”

“Well, he has nothing to feel guilty about. Here. I’m done.”

Lavinia turned her attention to the arrangement. “Shit, that’s real nice.” She frowned, her face creasing like a shar-pei’s. “I’ll miss you, Parker. Nicky, too.”

Parker’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I’ll miss you, too, Vin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you this summer.”

“Ah, you would’ve figured something out. Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

Parker hugged her, trying not to breathe in the scent of smoke. “Will you come visit me? Maybe for Thanksgiving?”

Lavinia tilted her head. “That’d be great, Parker. You mean it?”

“Absolutely. Please come.”

Her cousin smiled. “Then sure. Being as we’re family and all. Okay, gotta get this over to the church. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow. I’m making clam hash. Don’t make that face—you’ll love it.”

That afternoon, as Parker was reading
David Gets in Trouble
to Nicky, he suddenly pulled on her sleeve. “Mommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

Her son’s face was somber, his hands clenching his Obi-Wan and Darth Maul figurines. “I heard James calling me, and I didn’t want him to find me.”

She closed the book. “Why not?”

“Because I dunno.” Nicky looked at his lap and made Darth Maul take a stab at Obi-Wan.

“You must know a little. Weren’t you having fun together?”

“Sort of. Not really. He told me I couldn’t use the nail gun. And I already did use it, and I know how.”

“Well, if James said no, that was the end of it, Nicky. You don’t run away and hide because you didn’t get your way! Daddy and I have both talked to you about this.”

“He’s not you or Daddy. So he’s not the boss of me.” Nicky slammed the figurines together, his mouth obstinate.

Ah. “No, he’s not Mommy or Daddy,” she said, gently turning his face so he had to look at her. “But he was the grown-up in charge, and, Nicky, you scared him! Did you know he thought you were in the ocean? He went swimming to look for you, honey. In the cold, cold water.”

Nicky’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t
mean
to scare him. I wanted to hide and have him be sorry he bossed me. I took the nail gun, but I didn’t even use it. I listened. And then I felled asleep. It was hot under there.” His mouth wobbled and two tears slipped down his chubby cheeks.

Parker took a deep breath. “Okay, honey. Thank you for telling me. Will you tell James you’re sorry?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

She didn’t think that was true, but it was a moot point. He was heading for New York. The end. “You still have to apologize. You can write him a note and draw a picture if you’d rather do that.”

“Okay.” Nicky scrambled off the couch and ran into his room, slamming the door. “Sorry!” he yelled.

Parker sat for a moment, stroking Beauty’s head. Maybe Lavinia would babysit for an hour or two after dinner. Because despite the job in Manhattan, despite the fact that she’d made a fool of herself with talk of babies to a man who clearly didn’t want any, Parker didn’t want James to think that Nicky’s disappearance had been in any way his fault.

Vin came over for dinner and was more than happy to babysit. Parker smiled, watching the two of them; Vin was teaching her son poker. Her cousin was definitely an unexpected benefit of this summer.

She decided to walk into town, realizing abruptly how much she’d miss Gideon’s Cove, the constantly changing sounds of the ocean, the rush of wind through the sea grass, the sweet smells of Maggie’s baking that drifted from Joe’s Diner each morning. She’d miss the cries of seagulls and the rumble of the small fleet coming in each night.

She’d miss the people, who’d welcomed her without a second thought, without judgment.

Mostly, she’d miss James.

She never thought she could be that type of woman, who blushed when a man smiled at her. Who felt a man’s presence before she could see him.

That moment at the lake when he’d said he loved her…that was one of the happiest moments of her life. It was shocking, the impact of those words.

Well, hell. She seemed to be crying a little bit.

She wiped her eyes and peeked inside the window of Dewey’s. James might be there, after all. Apparently not. Seemed as if the rest of the town was, though. Parker could see Maggie talking animatedly, her hands flying, as Malone looked at her, a faint smile on his face, radiating Satisfied Alpha Male. Chantal and Jonah were there, cuddled against one another, and Christy and her husband. The waitress from the diner who never seemed to wait tables. Beth Seymour, who’d tricked her into taking Beauty. She owed Beth a drink, that was for sure. There was Dewey, squeezing between tables, pausing at the table to talk to Rolly, Ben and Stuart. Collier Rhodes was with them, no doubt getting his fill of local color, schmoozing with—and probably boring—the working class.

Was that how she’d been in Mackerly? Gracing the masses with her presence, swooping in from Grayhurst occasionally to buy a round at Lenny’s? That wasn’t how it felt, but it might’ve been how it seemed. She’d always been grateful to live in Mackerly; grateful to have an in via Ethan and Lucy and their families. She lived in Grayhurst because it was there, and it held some happy memories. Some bad memories, too, but more of the happy variety. She hoped she hadn’t seemed like a snob, or worse, an idiot.

Well. Time to see James and say goodbye.

The thought hurt so much it pushed the air from her lungs. She didn’t
want
to say goodbye to James. She didn’t want him to go to Manhattan and become a Harry. He was better than that.

Besides, she loved him. The incident with Nicky—she was past that. They could both get past that, hopefully. In her pocket was Nicky’s note: a drawing of Beauty holding Apollo in her mouth—it looked as if Beauty was eating the python, but no, Nicky had informed her Apollo was simply getting a ride—and the words
I’m sorry James from Nicholas Giacomo Mirabelli.

She went onto the porch of the two-family house where he was staying and paused, looking in the window of the first floor; the little old lady who lived on the bottom floor of the house was sleeping in front of her huge TV, where a slasher flick was playing in gruesome detail. Parker smiled a little, then went up the stairs to James’s apartment.

She knocked, albeit very quietly. Her heart was pounding rather erratically in her chest. Crikey, it was terrifying, this…this vulnerability. But he’d said he loved her. That had to count for something.

There was no answer to her knock, and she couldn’t see anything through the little window. Maybe he’d already left town. The thought made her mouth dry.

The door was unlocked. Parker went in, biting her lip. “James?” she said quietly, setting Nicky’s drawing on the counter.

The bedroom door was closed, but light shone from under the door, and she could catch a few strains of music. Okay, great, he was here. She ran a hand over her hair, swallowed, then knocked and opened the door at the same time.

“Hi, baby!” said a voice.

A woman’s voice.

A woman was in the bed. Naked. A very surprised-looking, very well-endowed, very
perky
young woman. Wow. No cellulite there—or anywhere—that was for sure. Candles flickering on the windowsill. Harp music coming from an iPod speaker.

James had left. He was gone.

The two women stared at each other, frozen for a horrible second. Then Boobalicious jerked the sheet up to her chin. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so, so sorry!” she spluttered. “I thought you were someone else!”

“Oh, no, me, too,” Parker said. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He’d moved out. She’d missed her chance. Her throat tightened as if Apollo was wrapped around it.

“I—I’ll go,” Parker said. “My friend used to live here. I didn’t realize he already… I’ll— I’m so embarrassed. And so sorry.”

The woman smiled sheepishly. “No, no, I should’ve locked the door. My bad, totally. I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Obviously. Duh, right?”

“Well.” Parker half grimaced, half smiled. “You have a good night.”

“Thanks.” Beautiful girl. Woman. Whatever.

Parker turned to leave, then froze.

Apollo’s glass tank was in the corner, complete with the python curled up inside.

Then the bedroom door opened, and there was James, a six-pack of beer under one arm.

“James,” Parker breathed.

“James!” the naked woman said at the same time, albeit much more enthusiastically. “Hi, baby!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

T
HIS
COULDN
’
T
BE
HAPPENING
.
His luck wasn’t
this
bad. A guy goes to Jason’s for supper, comes home to find…this?

James’s eyes ricocheted from one woman to the other. Nope, his luck really, really sucked, apparently. And what do you say in a situation like this?

“Hi,” he ventured.

“Surprise!” Leah said. “Um, this nice lady came to see her friend, who, like, lived here before and just moved. Awkward! Right?”

Oh, indeed. James seemed to be paralyzed.
Speak, idiot,
his brain commanded. But Leah was in his bed—
Leah,
for God’s sake. How the hell had she found him, even, let alone wound up in his apartment, in his bed, naked? Because yeah, there was her left breast, and while it was a completely excellent breast, he could’ve sworn they broke up, and she and her fabulous rack really had no business being here.

But here she was. Her pretty red hair was curled, she was all made up, there were candles burning—he didn’t even have candles…hell, she must’ve brought them herself—and it was clear what Leah had in mind.

And in this corner, there was Parker, wearing jeans and a Joe’s T-shirt and flip-flops, her hair in a ponytail. And if—just if—she’d come over to offer the proverbial olive branch, James sensed his odds were falling. That instead of a branch, she might whip out a chain saw and cut off his arm. Or another body part.

He was so screwed. “Uh…Parker, this is a friend from home. Leah, this is Parker.” Yes. What was the etiquette in a situation like this? Last names? No?

Leah sat up straighter, finally pulling the sheet over her breast. “Parker? Parker, like, Welles? I’m
so
happy to meet you! You’re Harry’s daughter, right? Cool! James has told me a lot about you! You’re an author, right? Really cool.”

“A pleasure to meet you, too, Leah,” Parker said, her rich-girl drawl in full glory. “I gather you’re James’s girlfriend.”

If looks could castrate…

“Well, yeah.” Leah’s voice was charmingly sheepish. “We’ve been together since, oh, man, that wedding on New Year’s, right, James?”

He didn’t answer.

“Eight months. That’s great,” Parker said. Her expression and tone were completely pleasant. “Obviously, my business with James can wait until after you two catch up. Welcome to Gideon’s Cove. Have a wonderful night.”

She walked past James, not touching him. “She’s
totally
nice!” Leah said. “I thought she’d be so stuck-up!”

“I—I’ll be right back,” James said. “Stay here.” The door to his apartment closed as Parker left. Way too classy to slam it, of course.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Leah said, a hint of a pout creeping into her voice.

“And you did,” he said over his shoulder. “Be back soon.”

He bolted out the door, clattered down the stairs. “James!” said Mrs. Kandinsky, opening the door. “There’s a very
pretty
young lady here to see you! And I believe that children’s author just left!”

“Thanks, Mrs. K.,” he said, not stopping.

“Always in such a
hurry,
you young people,” she commented.

Parker was already a block ahead of him. “Parker! Wait up!” he called. She didn’t slow down. He didn’t blame her.

He caught up to her in front of Dewey’s and grabbed her by the arm. She shook him off. Already, people inside were watching them. “Parker, it’s not what you think.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Wow. That was
really
the wrong thing to say.”

“I didn’t know she was coming! I had no idea! You heard her. It was a surprise.”

Parker tilted her head and looked at him, her expression calm. “How old is she? Just out of curiosity?”

“Um, twenty-two? Twenty-three?”

Clearly that was the wrong answer, because Parker jerked the door open and walked up to the bar. “Hello, Dewey,” she said pleasantly. “I’d like a glass of your best scotch, neat, if you don’t mind.”

“You bet, Parker.” He winked.

“Parker.” James came up beside her. “I really need to—”

“Hey there, Parker!” said one of the Three Musketeers…Stuart, who’d helped Parker paint her bedroom. “How’s it going?”

“Well,” she said, smiling at the old man, “I’ve been better, Stu. How are you? How’s your knee?”

“Not so bad. You look upset, sweetheart. Anything I can do?”

“If you could keep James here from talking to me, that’d be great.”

James flinched. “Parker, please let me explain.”

“The lady doesn’t want to talk to you,” Stuart said pleasantly. “Sorry, son.”

Dewey placed the glass in front of her, and she drained it in one gulp. His uncle’s eyebrows rose.

“Parker—”

“James, I do not wish to speak to you at this time. Please leave me alone.” Her voice carried through the bar quite clearly, especially as everyone had stopped talking.

James glanced around. Chantal shot him a smile, and her husband made a sympathetic
Dude, you’re screwed
grimace. Malone was less friendly, giving him the Stare of Death.

“I had no idea she was coming,” James said, turning back to the subject at hand and doing his best to ignore the nearly silent bar. “I had no idea
you
were coming. You could’ve called, Parker. You have my number.”

“I definitely wish I
had
called, believe me,” she answered, not looking at him. “Then I might’ve learned that you have a girlfriend. Dewey, can I have another one? Thanks, buddy.”

“Parker, I don’t have a girlfriend. I broke up with her. Months ago,” James said.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the fact that she came all the way up here, lit all those candles, took off her clothes, got into your bed and called you ‘baby’ shows that she, at least, thinks you have a girlfriend.” Her eyes were diamond-hard.

“That’s really not honorable, man.” This from the rich guy. Great. Collier Rhodes, there to pick up the pieces.

“Parker, Leah is not the… She’s not my girlfriend. We hung out a few times. I told her I was going to Maine for the summer— Do we have to discuss this here?”

“You know, it’s ironic. I used to think you were just like my father, but you changed my mind this summer. But here you are, exactly like him. The son he never had. Twenty-two, huh? Twenty-two. Wow.”

“Parker,” James ground out, “please tell me why you wanted to see me.”

Parker swallowed her second scotch and turned to look at him fully. “I came to tell you this, Thing One.” Great. He was back to Thing One. “Nicky told me today that he hid on you. On purpose. He heard you calling and he didn’t want to come out. And I was concerned about you, James, because I knew you felt responsible for losing him.” Her voice thickened with tears. “So don’t. Don’t feel guilty about that.” Her voice took on an edge, rising in volume. “But the fact that you were planning to move to New York while I was thinking about babies and long-term relationships? Feel guilty for leading me on.”

“Parker, I wasn’t—”

She cut him off. “Oh, and the naked woman in your bed with the candles and music? Yes. Go ahead and feel guilty about
that,
Thing One!”

There was a moment of absolute silence in the bar.

“Unattended candles are a leading cause of house fires,” someone said, and there was a ripple of nervous laughter.

“It’s not what you think, Parker,” James said.

“No,” she agreed, looking at him, and for a second, he saw hurt flash across her eyes. “It’s not.” She reached into her pocket and fished out some bills.

“On the house, honey,” Dewey said, giving James a dirty look.

“Let me take you home.” Collier Rhodes stood next to James. “Buddy, I think she’s done with you.”

“Thanks, Collier.” Parker stood up and looked over the bar patrons. “Guys, it’s been absolutely lovely being here this summer. Thank you for all your help and hospitality. I hope to come back and visit. Sorry for the drama.”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Chantal said. “Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come to the diner for breakfast tomorrow,” Maggie said. “Bring your little cutie.”

“I will. Thanks.”

And with that, she left, not looking back at him. Collier held the door.

When James got back to the apartment, Leah was dressed, her little overnight bag sitting by the door. “Hi,” she said wetly.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“I guess I’ll go. I’m really sorry. I should’ve called.”

James sighed and glanced at his watch. He sat heavily in the other kitchen chair and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Leah, I have to say, I’m really surprised to see you.”

“I stopped in at the hardware store, and some old guy told me where you lived.” She looked like a pinup girl, all chest and hips and little rosebud mouth. Pretty as anything. She bit her fingernail, then folded her hands. “James, I know we put things on hold, sort of. Well, you did. I was pretty into you. I thought if I could surprise you and remind you that I’m really fun, then maybe you’d want to get together again.” Her voice faded to a whisper as she spoke.

He sighed. God, he was tired. He hadn’t slept much since Nicky disappeared. “You
are
fun, Leah. You’re really nice and sweet and fun.”

“Just not what you’re looking for.” A tear dropped onto the table, and she smeared it with one fingertip. “You’re a really good guy, James. That’s not easy to find.”

He looked at her a long minute, then took her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She swallowed and shrugged, trying to smile. “So you and Parker finally hooked up, huh?”

He nodded. “Hooked up and broke up.”

“You in love with her?”

Another nod.

“Figures. I’d probably be, too, if I was a guy. Or a lesbian.”

He had to smile at that. “Leah, I meant what I said. You’re great, and you’re gorgeous, and someday, you’ll—”

“Meet the right guy someday and have babies and a dog.”

“Exactly. But I’m not the right guy.”

She surreptitiously wiped away a tear. “At least you never led me on. Never pretended it was more than it was.”

No. He’d used her and let her use him, and somewhere along the line, she’d fallen for him, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Stay here tonight. You can have the bed. It’s a long drive.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He sighed, squeezed her hand and stood up. “You hungry?” he asked. “I make some killer pancakes.”