Chapter Four
Pierce
“That’s better.” I step back, checking the picture is straight, and then turn and let out a sigh, wandering over to the bookcase on the far side of the store.
For a Monday, it’s been fairly busy. That makes sense, really. It’s getting close to summer, and I’m honestly not complaining. I prefer it to be busy, rather than slow. If there’s nothing to do, I just sit around, thinking about all the things I could be doing… like painting.
No… the only problem with it being busy is that, when people come in to look around – or even to buy something – they have a habit of not putting things back where they found them. The bookcase is just one such example, and Bridget is a real stickler for the books being stacked how she likes them. As a result, I spend at least half my time just reorganizing the stock.
Still, I don’t mind. It gives me something to do, and I smile to myself as I replace the copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer , noting the cracking to the spine, and the slight wearing at the corners of the cover. It’s an 1888 reprint, but because of its similarity to the first edition, it always attracts attention, which means I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve put this book back on the shelf.
Everything looks tidy now, and I make my way to the back of the store, checking the time. It’s not long until I can close up for the day and, to be honest, I’m not sorry about that.
My weekend went nowhere, so I’m feeling a little jaded.
I spent yesterday morning catching up with laundry and tidying the apartment, and in the afternoon, I finished the canvas I’ve been working on, which took me well into the evening.
As for Saturday… that was when I went out with Monica.
I don’t really know what to say about that, considering I’d built her up in my mind, and to Harley, as ‘the one’, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t as perfect as I’d thought.
Okay, so she wasn’t demanding, or ditzy… and she sure as hell wasn’t demure. But she still wasn’t ‘it’, either.
Her eyes positively lit up when I knocked at her door. I’d left my motorcycle around the corner, in the hope I wouldn’t put her off straight away, and that worked better than I’d hoped. She seemed to like what she saw, anyway. Maybe I helped the situation by removing my jacket before she answered the door. In doing so, I’d revealed my tattoos, and the moment she noticed them, she actually licked her lips. She did so in a slow, considered way, and then she bit on the bottom one, her eyes widening as she sucked in a deep breath. I had to smile, because I’d seen the signs before. The women I meet may not like my bike, but they love that bad boy image, and although it can grate on me sometimes, I’ll admit I’ve been known to use it to my advantage. There was a problem, though. Even as I contemplated how ‘bad’ I wanted to be with her, and took in her low-cut, fitted white blouse, and black pants, which clung to her hips like glue, I couldn’t stop the familiar shadow of doubt from falling over me. Regardless of everything I’d thought, there was still something missing. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but as we walked to the restaurant, arm in arm, I tried to figure it out. She didn’t cling to me. She didn’t talk incessantly, either… and when she did speak, her voice wasn’t annoying. Her laugh was kinda cute, too. So, what could it be? What was wrong with her?
Our evening progressed. We ate… we drank. And we talked.
She told me that, having relocated from a small town in Maine,she’d lived in Willmont Vale for four months. That was longer than I’d thought, but it didn’t matter. It was a minor detail, and as far as I could tell, there was nothing out of the ordinary about her. Nothing to ring alarm bells. Although I was wrong about her working in sales. She’s actually a teacher at the local high school.
“What were you doing in Hart’s Creek on a Friday during school hours?” I asked.
“It wasn’t school hours exactly. It was the lunch break, and I was there trying to find the printers… like I told you.”
I’d been so busy studying her when she came into the store, I’d forgotten which company she’d been asking directions for, and I covered my lack of attention by asking about her job.
“I love it,” she said, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” She sipped at her wine and looked up at me. “What about you?” she asked. “Are you fulfilling a lifetime’s ambition working in the antiques store, or is there something else you’re burning to do?”
“There’s something else,” I said, giving her a smile.
“And what would that be?”
“Painting.”
“Walls or canvases?”
“Canvases.”
“I see.” She nodded her head. “I assume you’re having to bide your time?”
“I am. And working in the store is better than an office job. At least I don’t have far to commute, either.”
“You live locally?”
“I live above the store. I can practically roll out of bed and straight into work.”
She laughed then, reminding me of how cute she could be, although I still couldn’t get over the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
By the end of the evening, that nagging doubt was still there, but I hadn’t worked out what the problem was. It was intriguing, and so was she… which could be why I was happy to accept her suggestion that we should see each other again.
“I can call you,” she said, reminding me I’d already given her my number. She’d given me hers, too, when she came into the store on Friday, after I’d asked her to have dinner with me. She’d suggested we ought to have each other’s contact details, just in case, and while I’d have normally made an excuse not to, I was convinced she was ‘the one’ at the time, so didn’t see the harm. I was just wondering if that had been a mistake when she moved a little closer, and said, “Or if you wanna set up something now, I’m free on Tuesday evening… if that works for you?” She sounded a little unsure of herself, like she thought I might say ‘no’.
“Sure,” I said, and she smiled.
“What time?”
“Six-thirty?”
She nodded her head. “Shall I come to Hart’s Creek? There’s a little French restaurant there, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Do you want me to book a table?”
“If you like.”
I guess that was how I knew she wasn’t demanding. Keen, but not demanding. She wanted to see me again – that much was obvious – but she didn’t immediately suggest we meet up on Sunday or drag me into her apartment once we reached the door. Instead, she looked up at me, her eyes sparkling slightly, and after years of experience, I knew she wouldn’t be averse to a goodnight kiss, and bent my head to hers.
As kisses go, it was okay. Nothing earth-shattering, but okay. She spent a lot of time running her hands up and down my arms, and when we pulled back, her eyes remained closed for a couple of seconds, before she finally opened them and smiled up at me, which made me think she’d enjoyed it.
“See you Tuesday,” she said, her voice a little lower than it had been before the kiss.
I nodded my head, relieved she hadn’t suggested taking things further. I wasn’t ruling out the idea, and I’m still not, but I think I want to spend some more time with her first, so I can try to work out what’s not quite right about her… or if I’m just imagining things.
I can’t be sure, you see.
Because it’s always possible that Harley’s right, and I’m being too picky. Those weren’t her exact words. She told me I was hard to please, but I knew what she meant, and I can’t help wondering if I should ask her advice. This is the kind of thing she’d understand, after all. She’s always been great at it, too.
Except I have to wonder if I’d be better off waiting until after my date with Monica tomorrow evening. It’s probably for the best. I don’t want to waste Harley’s time, or make her think I really am too fussy for words, when one more date with Monica might tell me everything I need to know.
I glance at the clock behind me and smile to myself. While I’ve been daydreaming, time has moved on, and I can close up the store already. Most people pay by card, but I take the small amount of cash and put it in the safe, locking the office door behind me, and then I switch off the lights. Rather than going out through the back door and up to the apartment, though, I head out through the front, closing and locking the door behind me before I make my way along Main Street. I need to make the reservation at the French restaurant for tomorrow night, and while I could call, I can see no reason not to go over there in person.
It’s fairly busy inside, and I wonder if I should have come over sooner… if I’ve left it too late, as I nod my head, smiling at the decor. It’s a kind of homage to the impressionist and post-impressionist artists of the late-nineteenth and early twentieth Centuries, with prints of several well-known pieces displayed over the dark-blue painted walls. I don’t often come in here, but I have to say, I really like it.
“Hey, Pierce.” I turn at the sound of my name, and look at Archer as he approaches. He’s probably in his mid-thirties, or maybe a little older, with dark hair, and even darker eyes, which suit the black clothing he wears when he’s at work.
“Hi,” I say. “You’re busy tonight.”
He rolls his eyes. “Tell me about it. What can I do for you?”
“I wondered if I could book a table for two, for tomorrow night.”
He nods his head. “I think that’ll be okay. Just let me check.”
He goes behind the bar, returning with a tablet, which he holds in front of him, tapping on the screen a few times, before he looks up and smiles. “What time?”
“Six-thirty?”
“No problem.”
“That’s great.”
“See you tomorrow,” he says, quickly typing my name onto the screen as someone raises their hand and his shoulders drop. “There’s never a moment’s peace.”
It seems not, and I leave the restaurant, pulling the door closed behind me, stopping in my tracks when I look up and see Harley crossing the street. She’s clearly come straight from work and is heading in the direction of MD’s, but that’s not what catches my eye. What does is the fact that she’s with Kaiden Bowman.
My skin actually crawls at the thought of him… but he’s that kind of guy.
He moved here when he was twelve, along with his mom, after his parents split up, and although he’s the same age as Ben and me, we never really got along with him. Ben said he always found him creepy. For me, it was more than that. I hated the way he used to boast about his father’s art gallery in Concord. I guess that was because of my love of art, and Kaiden’s obvious lack of appreciation. To him, it was just about the money… about his father having set him up with a job there, which he knew he could walk into the moment he left school. Naturally, that also meant he didn’t have to try too hard, so while the rest of us slogged to make the grade, he swanned around without a care in the world. When Ben and I – and practically everyone else – went off to college, Kaiden walked into that job at the gallery. He still works there now, commuting to Concord in a fairly new BMW, which I’m sure his father bought for him.
I’m pretty damn sure my father would buy me something similar, if I’d just agree to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. But the thing is, I can’t do that. I’d be betraying everything I’ve ever wanted… ever dreamed of… and there’s nothing on this earth that would make me sacrifice my dreams for the sake of someone else’s. I’ve said that over and over, to anyone who’s willing to listen. But my dad’s tone deaf when it comes to what I want. The only thing that would be music to his ears would be if I conceded defeat… and that’ll never happen.
I focus back on Harley and Kaiden, both of them oblivious to everything around them, including me, and as I go to take a step forward, I stop, once again, sucking in a sharp breath as Kaiden leans in, grabbing Harley around the back of her neck. He pulls her to a stop, right outside the bookstore, just a few yards away, and dips his head, kissing her deeply. I stare at them as he changes the angle of his head, tipping it the other way, his hand sliding down her side, then around her back, pulling her close, before he leans away, taking her hand in his as they continue on their way.
My fists are clenched, and I slowly release them, my knuckles aching a little.
My feet refuse to move, though, and I stare after them until they disappear.
They’re dating. Harley and Kaiden. Harley and Kaiden? Since when? And why didn’t she tell me?
I thought we shared everything. Let’s face it, I’ve always told her about the women I’ve dated, and she’s… I shake my head. She’s told me nothing. Ever. I rack my brain, but can’t think of a single time she’s shared a confidence with me about her love life, or her sex life, or anything even remotely intimate. Not that she’s under any obligation to, of course…
I just wish she had.
Because then I could have warned her.
I could have told her that Kaiden has a reputation with women, going back more years than I want to remember.
I shudder against the thought that Harley may not mind that idea.
Surely not…
She’s not like that. Not my Harley.
“She’s not your Harley,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head as I step off the sidewalk, my head bent.
Even as I walk across the street, I’m sorely tempted to re-trace my steps, go straight into MD’s and pull her out of there. It’s what Ben would do. I can picture the scene quite easily. But as I put the key in the lock and open the door to my apartment, I know I can’t do anything of the sort. Not because Harley would hate me. She would. I have no doubt about it. But the reason for my restraint is that I’m not Ben, and my motives would be very different from those of my oldest friend. Very different indeed.
What I don’t know is why it’s taken me so long to work that out.
I turn over and check the time on my phone.
Seven-fifteen.
I guess it could be worse.
I gave up trying to sleep about three hours ago, although I know I must have slept earlier, because I had a dream. Actually, it was more like a nightmare than a dream. In it, I pictured Harley and Kaiden in bed together. He was taking her, and being quite rough about it, although she was loving every second, coming hard and screaming his name. That was bad enough, but what followed was worse, because in the next scene, she was the onlooker, watching him with another woman, doing exactly the same things, with tears rolling down her cheeks, asking him why. He didn’t answer. The look on his face said he didn’t think he needed to, but the heartache in her voice woke me with a start and I sat up, feeling desolate, wanting to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. I could make it okay
Except I can’t, can I? Because in the real world, she doesn’t need me.
It was a horrible feeling, and one that’s kept me awake ever since.
Because it isn’t true.
Harley needs me. Even if she doesn’t know it.
I throw back the covers and get out of bed, wandering to the bathroom, where I shower, trying not to think about where Harley might have spent the night in the real world… or what Kaiden might have already done to her that can’t be undone.
“No!” I say out loud, my voice echoing around the tiled room as I slam my hand against the wall and shut off the water, stepping out and wrapping a towel around my hips before I quickly brush my teeth.
Once that’s done, I head for the kitchen, fixing myself a coffee, which I take with me into the bedroom, getting dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
Harley may not need me, or she may not think she needs me, but there’s something that needs to be said. And it won’t wait.
I slip on my shoes and grab my phone and keys before running down the stairs and out the door.
It’s a warm morning, and I walk along Main Street toward the doctor’s office. Harley won’t be there yet, but I don’t mind waiting, and when I get there, I lean against the wall beside the door, feeling the sun on my face, and hoping that’s a good omen. I don’t believe in things like that, but I need all the help I can get, keeping my fingers crossed that she’ll arrive in her car, and not courtesy of Kaiden’s BMW.
I only have to wait about fifteen minutes before Doctor Dodds arrives, walking across from Cedar Street, and tilting his head as he approaches.
“Can I help?” he says.
“No, thanks. I’m waiting for Harley.”
He nods his head. “Do you wanna come inside?”
“I’m fine out here.”
“Okay.”
He goes in, leaving me in peace, and I let out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Doc Singleton. He’d have had a lot more questions, I’m sure, and I lean back against the wall again, just as Harley’s car appears. The sheriff’s office and library may be in front of the doctor’s clinic, but the angle of the buildings means I can see her car as she makes the turn off of Main Street. Then she disappears from my sight, just briefly, before I see her again, pulling into the parking lot. She glances over, her eyes fixed on me for a moment, until she has to concentrate on parking, which she does, in a space on the far side.
I push myself off of the wall and wander over, reaching her just as she gets out of her car.
“Are you here to see me?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Yes.”
I gaze down into her blue eyes, letting out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” she says, turning and reaching into the car for her purse.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I gathered that much.”
She locks her car, stepping away, but I grab her hand and pull her back, keeping hold of her.
“I—I saw you last night,” I say, stammering over my words.
“Oh? When?”
“Crossing the street… with Kaiden Bowman.”
She blushes slightly, blinking hard, and stares at a space below my chin. “I see. And what of it?”
“I didn’t realize you were seeing him.”
“I wasn’t… until last night.”
I can feel the relief wash through me. “So, it was your first date?” I say, stepping closer.
She looks up at me. “Yes.”
“That’s good,” I say without thinking.
“Why?” she asks, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut, although I guess I came here to warn her, didn’t I? And there’s no time like the present.
“Because hopefully it means I’m not too late.”
“Too late for what, Pierce?”
“To warn you off,” I say, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Kaiden has a terrible reputation with women.”
She pulls her hand from mine, narrowing her eyes as she steps back slightly. “Who are you to talk?”
“He’s a lot worse than I am,” I say, feeling the need to justify myself.
“Even if he is, it’s none of your damn business who I see or what I do. I’m a free agent, Pierce, and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
I hadn’t expected that and I step back, surprised by the way her words get under my skin, wounding and festering. She’s right. It’s none of my business what she does… even if I want it to be, and I move a little further away.
“Was there anything else?” she says.
“No.”
“In that case…” she says, not bothering to finish her sentence before she turns and makes her way inside, leaving me to think about how badly that went.
Could it have gone any worse?
I don’t think so… although I suppose she could have told me she’d spent the night with him. That would have made it unbearable. I don’t think she did, though. I think she’d have told me… if only to score points, and to reiterate how much of a free agent she really is.
I stare at the door, wishing I could follow her and tell her she’s not a free agent at all, because she belongs with me. But I don’t think that would end well. I can’t see her welcoming my words, or my kisses… not in the way she welcomed Kaiden’s, anyway. And why would she take me seriously? After all, I’ve spent so long talking to her about my sex life, telling her about all the women I’ve shared a single date with, then promised to call, knowing I wouldn’t. She’s got no reason to trust me.
I wish she would, though.
God, do I wish she would…
I lean back against her car, unwelcome images of her and Kaiden filling my head… like the ones from my dream. I shudder against them, just as my phone rings, and I pull it from my pocket, frowning when I see Monica’s name on the screen. It’s early for her to be calling, and I wonder if I should re-assess my opinion about her not being demanding, as I connect the call.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hello. I’m really sorry to bother you so early.”
“That’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t have called like this, but I’ve just been asked to sit in on a couple of parent-teacher conferences after school tonight. The teacher who should be doing them is off sick, and… well, you know how it is.”
“Sure.”
“The thing is, I’m gonna be late getting home, so I won’t be able to get to you until around seven. Do you think you’ll be able to change the reservation? Or do you wanna cancel tonight, and re-arrange for another day?”
I think about that for a moment… but not a very long moment, turning and leaning over the roof of Harley’s car, running my hand across its shiny surface as I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, Monica, but I can’t see you anymore.”
There’s a second’s hesitation before she says, “I’m sorry?”
“I said…”
“I heard what you said. What I don’t understand is why?”
“I know you’re gonna hate me for this, but there’s someone else.”
The pause is a little longer this time. “Are you saying you’ve been cheating on me? Or cheating on her with me? Is that it? I mean, we’ve only had one date, so if she’s…”
“It’s not like that,” I say, interrupting her.
“Then what is it like?”
I take a moment, trying to think how to phrase my next sentence. “She’s not someone I’ve been dating, and she’s not someone I’ve just started seeing, either. She’s someone I’ve known for a really long time, although oddly enough, I’ve never thought of her romantically before now. I’m…”
“Are you fucking serious?” she says, raising her voice slightly. “You think I wanna hear your life story? Now?”
“Probably not. I’m sorry, but…”
“Forget it, Pierce. I don’t wanna know.”
“Okay.”
I hang up and immediately delete her details from my contacts list, feeling relieved. That’s not just because I won’t have to see her anymore, but because I’ve worked out what was wrong with her… and all the others.
Sure, some of them were genuinely ditzy, or incredibly demanding… or just plain annoying. There’s no getting away from that. But the fundamental drawback they all had was that they weren’t Harley.
I put my phone back in my pocket, resolving to call Archer later so I can cancel my reservation, shaking my head as I turn back around and glance up at the doctor’s office, realizing how blind I’ve been…
I’ve been out there searching for perfection, wondering where to find it, and it’s been here, staring right at me all along.