56. Coraline
56
CORALINE
I toss my phone into my purse and grab my keys, locking up the bakery behind me in record time. The late afternoon sun washes everything in a warm, golden glow as I slide into my car and point it towards Jasper’s house.
As I drive, my mind races, fueled by a potent cocktail of determination and hope. The scenery blurs past my windows, a kaleidoscope of vibrant green trees and clear blue skies. But I barely notice the beauty around me, my thoughts consumed by Jasper and the words I need to say.
I pull into his driveway, my heart pounding in my chest as I put the car in park. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves before stepping out.
Be brave , Nana Jo’s voice echoes inside my head.
The sounds of the birds chirping and the waves lapping at the shore calm my nerves as I walk to his front door. I raise my hand to knock, but hesitate. I still have a key, but I’m not sure what the right move is here.
Doubt creeps in, winding its thorny vines around my legs to keep me still. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I’ve ruined everything with my impulsive words?
I shake my head, dispelling the negative thoughts. No, I refuse to let fear hold me back. And if he doesn’t want to see me after I’ve apologized and laid my heart on the line, then at least I’ll know I tried.
I fish the key out of my purse and let myself in.
Pudding's loud meow greets me as soon as I step inside. He winds between my ankles, his fluffy gray tail brushing against my calves.
“Hey there, fluffball,” I murmur, bending down to scoop the cat into my arms. He purrs contentedly, nuzzling his head under my chin as I scratch behind his ears. His soft fur and steady purring help soothe my frayed nerves. “Where’s your dad, hm?”
He meows, opening his eyes a sliver and tilting his head against me.
“Well, that’s alright. We can wait for him,” I murmur, brushing my fingers along the side of his soft face.
I walk further into the house, Pudding a warm weight against my chest. “Jasper? It’s me.” I look out the window wall, hoping to see him on the balcony or at the rocky beachfront by the lake.
It doesn’t take long to realize that he’s not here yet. That’s fine. He’s probably just on his way. I settle onto the plush couch in the living room with Pudding curled up in my lap. Late afternoon sunlight streams through the expansive window wall, bathing the room in a warm, honeyed glow. It catches on the crystal bowl on the coffee table, scattering tiny rainbows across the polished wood surface.
I let my gaze wander, taking in the little details of Jasper’s space that have become so familiar to me over the past couple of months. The well-worn paperback on the side table, a thin leather bookmark peeking out from between the pages. My crewneck sweatshirt draped over the back of one of the kitchen stools.
Little reminders of the life we’ve been building together. The relationship we’ve been nurturing. The realization makes my heart ache with longing. I can’t lose him, not like this. Not when we’ve come so far.
Not when I just realized that I’ve fallen in love with him.
The tears well up again as I think about how close I came to throwing it all away in a moment of hurt and anger.
I pull out my phone and check it again, but there are still no new messages from Jasper. Worry gnaws at the pit of my stomach. What if he doesn’t come home? What if I pushed him too far and he’s done?
What if he’s done with me?
Apprehension grows, curling tight in my stomach. I have to believe that he’d hear me out.
I’m not sure how long I sit there on Jasper’s couch, absentmindedly petting Pudding as my thoughts spiral. One minute bleeds into two, two into ten, and ten into sixty. The bright sunshine bleeds deep gold as the afternoon grows.
With each passing minute, the knot of worry in my stomach pulls tighter. I check my phone compulsively, but the screen remains dark and silent. No new messages.
And then finally, I hear it.
Relief sits on my shoulders like a weighted blanket at the sound of a car on the driveway. Pudding stirs and hops off my lap as I jump up from the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. I smooth my hands over my sundress, trying to calm my nerves as I hear keys in the front door.
The door swings open, but it’s not Jasper in the doorframe.
It’s a woman.
We stare at one another, a pregnant pause like some kind of wild west showdown. Her expression is blank, but not in the you just caught me doing something wrong kind of way. More like a forced mask of emotion.
Taller than me, brunette, and cute in that girl next door kind of way. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t quite place it.
Pudding growls at the newcomer, his hair standing on end and making him look bigger. Finally, I find my voice. “Who are you?”
I watch in fascination as she visibly shakes herself, kind of like how a dog shakes after it’s wet. This all-body sloughing. A bright smile stretches her lips wide and her brows rise in a strange mock expression of friendliness.
“You must be Coraline. I’ve heard so much about you. Please, come inside,” she says, like she’s some kind of gracious host. Even though I’m already inside the goddamn house. She closes the door behind her and flicks the lock. Slipping off her heels, she pads past me and into the kitchen.
Pudding and I follow behind her, because what the fuck else am I supposed to do here? “I’m sorry, who are you?”
She goes straight to the cabinet and pulls down a glass and fills it up with the lemonade I made yesterday. She’s so familiar with everything. Suspicion gnaws at me, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
She looks over her shoulder at me. “Didn’t Jasper tell you about me?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “No.”
“Oh, well, don’t worry. I can understand why you might feel like the other woman,” she says, leaning over the island and raising her brows expectantly, that weird smile on her face still. “But Jasper told me all about your little . . . arrangement .” She flutters her fingers at me.
My stomach drops at her words, confusion and dread swirling together. "Arrangement? What are you talking about?"
She takes a sip of lemonade, her eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. “I bet you had no idea it was my plan, hm? What’s that term? Mutually beneficial .”
I slip my phone from my pocket and call him. I put it on speakerphone, and we listen to it ring and ring and ring.
When it becomes clear he’s not going to answer, her grin grows so wide, she reminds me of the Cheshire cat. All teeth and malice.
“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or what the fuck you’re doing, but you need to leave. Now.”
She sets the glass down on the counter with a clink. “I think you’re the one who needs to leave. This is my man’s house, not yours.”
Alarm bells are ringing so loud inside my head, I can barely hear myself talk. “I know exactly who’s house it is. I’ve been practically living here,” I snarl. “Get out, or I’m calling the cops.” I waggle my phone in the air.
“Good. I’ll tell them you were trespassing, and I’ll be filing charges.” She lifts her brows and drops them quickly, as if to say how do you like that? She sighs and does that shaking thing again, an odd smile on her face. “Honestly, I’m embarrassed for you, Coraline. I’m in everything around this house, and you never once picked up on it.”
“Bullshit.”
“The matcha machine? Jasper doesn’t even drink matcha, but you know who does? Me .” She nods toward the shelf behind her. “The healthy dessert cookbooks? Me again. I’m vegan. The floating platform, the lack of curtains on the window, the balcony furniture,” she says, holding out a finger for each thing, like she’s counting.
My eyes widen as the woman rattles off details about Jasper’s house—details that suggest an intimate familiarity. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched, the air rushing out of my lungs. I don’t believe her—I don’t .
But she knows so much about this house, about our lives, that I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that I need to get out of here.
Because this—her—feels dangerous in an entirely unexpected way.
I back away slowly, my heart racing and hands shaking. “I don’t believe you. Jasper wouldn’t do that to me.”
The woman’s knowing smirk only fuels my growing unease. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t really matter much to me either way,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.
I stumble back a step, my hand reaching blindly for my purse on the counter. "I have to go."
Her victory smile is the last thing I see as I quickly walk toward the front door. Pudding sits expectantly next to a pair of Jasper’s boots, and I do something reckless. Fueled by instinct, I scoop up my cat and dash out the front door.
I clutch Pudding to my chest as I practically run to my car, my heart thundering against my ribcage. Fumbling with my keys, I finally manage to unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut behind me.
Pudding meows in protest at the abrupt movement, but I shush him gently, my hands shaking as I turn the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and I speed out of the driveway, tires squealing against the pavement.
As I drive home, I try to call Jasper again. It goes to his voicemail after four rings.
“Jasper. It’s me. There’s, uh, something is—just call me back. Please.” My voice cracks on the last word and I hang up, tossing my phone in the cupholder.
I drive into town on autopilot, detouring to a cat-friendly pet store as an afterthought. I can’t believe I just took his cat. But there was something off about her, something weird. It didn’t feel right to leave Pudding there.
Ten minutes later, we’re back in the car with some cat necessities and on the way to my apartment. Where I can sit down and try to figure out what the fuck just happened.