True for You (6 page)
Her
face pales, and I want to take it back. I shouldn’t have said
any of it, and not just because I shouldn’t have spoken about
my ex like that.
Before
I can apologize, Bliss pierces me with a glare. “If
Violet
loved it so much, then why did
Violet
choose Cole over you, when
Violet
had the chance?”
Bliss
I
shouldn’t have said that
,
I think, right before Jackson brushes past me, his jaw hard and his
blue eyes icy.
“I’m
outta here,” Jackson grinds out. He puts on a pair of shoes and
grabs a hoodie.
I have no idea why
he really wants to stay married, or if by making him mad, I’ve
just changed his mind. It seems to me he could find another way to
piss of his dad.
Sure,
I could ask, but over the years, I learned that people tend to reveal
things they normally wouldn’t when I wait patiently
and
silently
for them to speak. It’s not easy, but it’s yet another
reason I’ve survived for so long on my own.
“Where’s
the fire?” I hear Cameron ask, his steps growing faint as he
leaves the bedroom.
“People
to do, things to see,” Jackson shouts, for my benefit I’m
sure.
It
doesn’t hurt me, not like he thinks it will.
Okay, so I’m
lying. It hurts a lot, because I know what he’s capable of
doing. He doesn’t love me, so in his mind, marriage vows mean
nothing to him.
With
a heavy heart, I pad into our bedroom and slip on my bra, fastening
it in the back and smoothing my shirt down.
I stare out the
window, at the pretty beach with its soft sand and waves lapping at
the shore. It’s too cold to go swimming in April, not that I
would anyway, because I have no idea how to swim. This is the first
time I’ve ever been to the beach; the closest I’ve ever
gotten is a National Geographic issue featuring beaches around the
world.
The
front door slams twice, but I don’t move from my spot. I hear
male voices again, this time below me. I can’t see Jackson or
Cameron, but it’s clear they’re arguing.
“You
can stay here, then, if you’re so damned concerned about her,”
Jackson shouts, the wind carrying his words to me.
I
flush hot while my blood runs cold.
Another
slam. Tires squall on pavement.
“He’s
gone,” I whisper, and look at my ring. I’m surprised he
didn’t ask for it back. I had figured it meant something to
him, but what…who knows, and I doubt he’ll reveal that
secret any time soon.
I
suspect it has everything to do with Violet. A pang of jealousy hits
my heart, but I can’t be mad at her. I really do consider her
my friend.
Although,
I doubt I’ll be seeing her any time soon.
Here,
on the outskirts of Charleston, on this tiny island, I doubt I’ll
be seeing anyone soon, including Jackson.
And
that’s just the way I like it. Or so I tell myself.
***
It’s
almost six in the evening, and I’m curled up on the couch in
the living room, watching
A
Lady’s Pleasure
.
The hero, an actor named Ian Romanov, plays a prideful, tormented
earl who falls in love with the pastry shop girl, but can’t
bring himself to admit it. So he uses a fake name and writes love
letters to her, then she finds out and… well, I have never
actually made it to the ending.
When I was on tour
with Jackson and Violet, all the girls would gather in her trailer
for movie nights. Everyone, that is, but Callie, Jackson’s
ex-fiancée.
I
don’t think anyone missed her, including Jackson, but I guess
when your fiancée is cheating on you with your dad, well…
The
doorbell rings and I start, looking around for someone to answer it.
It rings again, and then whoever is at the door knocks.
“Guess
I’m the lady of the house,” I mumble, walking cautiously
down the stairs to the front door. There’s a window, right
above the wooden door. There’s a person on the other side,
holding two bags.
Another
knock and I hurry the rest of the way, opening up the door a crack.
“Mrs.
Morgan?” the delivery guy asks. He’s older, with grey
hair at his temples, and a kind face.
I
stare at him blankly. “Who?”
“Mrs.
Bliss Morgan.”
It
takes me another second to realize that he means me. “Oh.”
I swing the door open wider. “That’s me.”
He
grins and shakes his head, chuckling, “Newlyweds.” Then
he holds up the first bag. “These are for you. Your groom
ordered these earlier this afternoon.”
Taking
the bag, I peer inside. My head snaps up. “Food?” After
the fight we had and the way he’d stormed out, Jackson had
still thought of me?
That
grin stays, and his cheeks pinken. “That groom of yours said
y’all were so anxious to start your honeymoon that he forgot to
order his usual.”
Now
my cheeks heat. I take the second bag from him, the heavy weight
pulling at my arms. Then my stomach flips. “How much do ah…
we owe you?”
“Jackson
has an account with us.”
“Let
me get your tip.” I assume if he drove all the way out here, he
would need a tip. I could handle that.
“No
need. That husband of yours helped the missus and me when we needed
it the most. We
had one heck of an insurance deductible when the last hurricane hit.
He paid it for us, and that boy won’t let us pay him back. So
delivering groceries to his sweet bride while he’s fishing is
the least I can do.” Then he tips his hat to me, old-fashioned
and sweet. “Take care, ma’am.”
After
shutting the door, I haul the bags upstairs and set them on the
island. Digging in, the first thing I pull out is a package of
cinnamon-flavored hot snaps. I stare at it in amazement, the memory
of the time he’d caught me practically salivating over them.
My
nose is pressed against the glass, checking out all the candy in the
window. We’d stopped in a small town, and I’d seen him go
off with Violet.
“
See
anything you like?” Jackson drawls, his voice close to my ear.
I
close my eyes, thinking of the last time he was this close to me. My
heart pounds. I have two choices. One: I can ignore him and hope he
goes away. Two: I can tell the truth and hope he stays.
“
Hot
snaps.”
“
Spicy
candy, huh?”
“
When
I was a little girl, my mami would let me have them on my birthday,
and my daddy would sneak them to me even when it wasn’t my
birthday.” I glance at him out of the corner of his eye, to
judge his reaction.
“
Is
today your birthday?” he asks, that cocky drawl gone.
My
heart speeds up. “Not until June.”
We
turn and face each other.
He
gives me an odd look, and I wish and wish for a spark of something to
appear.
A
piercing whistle startles me, breaking the spell.
He
stretches, his shirt opening at the top a little, and I blink at the
bruises on his neck. Before I can ask what happened, Jackson walks
away. After a few minutes, I do the same, without the hot snaps.
Later
that night, when I go to my usual spot in the trailer, carrying the
costumes, I find a brightly colored bag tied at the top with a bow.
There’s
a card lying beside it, facedown. I turn it over.
Happy
Early Birthday.
Gathering
the small bag in my arms, I hug it to my chest and think of the first
time we met.
The
sound of seagulls crying brings me back to the present. It won’t
be easy, but I can do this. All I have to do is remember the boy who
I discovered crying in his hiding spot, and his promise to save me.
And
my offer to save him, no matter what.
Jackson
A
huge pair of boobs are smashed against my face as I grab the shot
glass from between them, with my teeth. I tip the glass back and
finish it off, never letting my hands touch it or the woman in my
lap.
She
stands, and saunters away, blowing a kiss over her shoulder.
“I’m
pretty sure tradition dictates bachelor parties take place before
nuptials.”
I
slice my gaze to Cameron. Of course he’s looking at me and not
the women on stage, because he’s too mature to be wasting his
time here. “You can take your dictate and shove it up your—”
“It
doesn’t actually mean dick, you know,” he says.
“I’m
not stupid, Cam.”
He
takes a pull of his beer. “Not too sure about that.”
I
prop my feet up on the table in front of us, ignoring the gyrating
bodies on stage. “Enlighten me, Professor.”
“You’ve
been crashing at my place for three days now, leaving your bride at
home alone. Although, I am exceedingly proud of you for not hooking
up with anyone,” he says.
I’m
not. I want to find someone else, but every time I try… I just
can’t. A camera flashes, and I look up to see a random cell
phone videoing me. “A man needs a little downtime before he
starts his next project.”
“Plan
on taking Bliss with you to New York City?”
I
grunt. “No.” Although to be honest, the thought had
occurred to me.
Cameron
nods. “Good plan.”
“Sarcasm
isn’t your strong point, Hurley.”
“While
thinking things through isn’t yours,” he points out.
I
lift another shot glass. “Touché.”
“Ready
to leave?”
“Why—the
debasement of woman by objectifying them getting to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then
why are you here?”
“Because
we’ve been friends for years, despite your dad’s
interference, and I’d rather you not screw up another long-term
relationship. So I came here to talk, and make sure you stayed out of
trouble.”
Yeah,
my dad hates that my best friend is the son of a preacher. He has a
huge grudge against preachers, the church, and religion in general.
“Aw, Dad, didn’t know you cared.” I salute him and
throw the drink back.
“What
are your plans?” Cameron leans forward in his seat. “You
can’t leave her alone indefinitely. It’s cruel, Jackson.”
“How
about this: I’ll go say goodbye, and then you can hang out with
her. Keep her company.” Oh, shit. I did not just say that. Damn
my drunk ass.
Cameron’s
brown eyes glitter. “I accept.” He stands and leaves a
tip on the table. “Let’s get you home.”
“You’re
no fun when you’re being a feminist,” I say, but stand
anyway.
“I’m
not being a feminist by demanding people be treated decently.”
We
make our way to the entrance, grabbing our coats from the clerk along
the way. “What are you being then?”
“A
follower of Christ.”
Followers
of Christ go to strip clubs? I roll my eyes. “I thought
professors didn’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo.”
He
flashes me a smile. More than a few of the ladies notice and try to
get his attention. “Assistant professors are allowed to have
radical thoughts.”
***
It’s
almost two in the morning when I stumble inside my house, dripping
wet from the storm raging outside.
There’s a
light on upstairs, and my heart speeds up a little.
As
I arrive on the second landing, I realize it’s the one over the
kitchen sink, and not Bliss waiting up for me. Then again, why would
she be waiting up on me?
I
breathe deeply, the house smells lived in, homey, and not the sterile
scent of a dwelling that’s periodically occupied.
It’s…
nice.
Thunder
rumbles and I get a front row view of lightning streaks in the sky,
the benefit of having a wall of windows facing the ocean. It’s
rough tonight, the first of two Nor’easters coming in, back to
back. I was lucky Cameron managed to get me home without wrecking my
car. At least his trip back to his apartment would be in the opposite
direction of the storm.