Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JUNE
“ W ho thought it would be a good idea to throw this party right between Christmas and New Year’s?” I blow some hair out of my eyes and take a breath. “Hanging all of these lights is a lot of work, but it’s going to look awesome.”
“That’s the last strand,” Luna assures me. “I’m sorry that I keep adding things. I know it’s a pain in the butt, but it’s not only a huge holiday party. I wanted to throw the party after Christmas day so more people could come. I didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to choose between spending time with their own families and coming out to see the inn.”
“It’s not a pain in the butt at all, and you should have the wedding you want. Besides, I don’t mind doing it. It’s all good.”
“I think the timing is great,” Sarah says as she steps off a ladder. “And speaking of timing, June, have you taken the time to talk to Apollo?”
I scowl at her. “We don’t want to talk about that.”
“Yeah, I think we do,” Luna adds. “But I take it that you haven’t talked to him.”
“I haven’t seen him in more than a week,” I confess and immediately feel guilt take up residence in the back of my throat. “If I see him, I’ll feel uncomfortable and weird, and it’s better if I avoid that altogether.”
“Juniper Snow, I’ve never known you to be a coward.” Sarah crosses her arms over her chest, and to my surprise, they both look mad at me.
Like, really mad.
“What’s this all about?”
“We love you,” Luna says. “But we love Apollo, too. You need to tell him. If you don’t, I will, and I won’t apologize for it. Stop being a chicken shit and just do it. ”
I want to yell at them and tell them that they don’t understand and that, at the end of the day, it’s none of their goddamn business.
I want that, but it would be wrong because everything they’re saying is true.
I am being a coward.
“Okay.”
They blink at me, look at each other, and then my way once more.
“Okay?” Sarah echoes.
“Yeah, okay. You’re right. I hate that you are, but facts are facts. I’ll go over to his place tonight and tell him. I don’t know how, and I’m super stressed about it, but I know that I need to. So, I’ll do it. I’ve had my time to freak out and think and freak out some more.”
“Have you decided what you want to do about the baby?” Luna asks.
“There was always only the option for me, but I had to warm up to it.” I pat my stomach, not in the sweet way that most soon-to-be moms do, but in kind of an awkward way that I figure I’ll get used to after some time passes. “Whether or not Apollo wants to be included in our lives is really up to him.”
“I don’t see him running,” Sarah says thoughtfully. “I’ll be interested to hear how it all goes.”
“I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, I have to go to the chapel. The city’s coming by to pick up the bodies tomorrow, and I have to go down in the body closet to make sure everything is ready for them. Oh, and Grandma asked me to look for another person. I swear, she should just come over and take inventory herself.”
“Did you just call it… the body closet ?” Luna asks with a laugh.
“It’s so much easier than mausoleum.” I shrug and turn to head out. “If you decide you need more decorations, call me. Although, I don’t think there’s an inch in this place that isn’t already covered with bows and lights.”
“Good luck tonight,” Sarah calls out as I make it to the front door.
Honestly, I doubt there is enough luck—good or bad—that will get me through the next couple of hours. On top of getting queasy and light-headed every time I consider telling Apollo I’m knocked up, which has nothing to do with the morning sickness that’s been kicking my ass, I have to actually do this favor for my grandmother.
I can’t believe that I agreed to go back down to that body closet. When I’m not at the chapel, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but as soon as I get down there, I hyperventilate and break out in hives.
It absolutely terrifies me, and I can’t get rid of it soon enough.
“Just get in and get out,” I mutter to myself as I park in front of the chapel and walk inside.
When I step through my front door, I forget to be terrified for a moment because it’s so pretty in here now. Thanks to the hard work of my crew and friends and family in Huckleberry Bay, this space has turned into something new. I can’t believe how much progress everyone has made in just over a week’s time. The floor is in, the walls are painted the perfect shade of white, which reflects the light from the windows so well. The plumbing and electrical are completely done, and I’ve spent a little more time than necessary in the bathroom, watching the water run in the faucet. The only things left to finish are countertops and a couple pieces of trim here and there, and I can move in. If I really wanted to, I could move in now, but I’m stubborn, and I want it to be completely finished, in every way, before I move in my stuff.
“It’s on schedule,” I murmur in amazement. Christmas is just a few days away, and my gifts to myself—some new living room and bedroom furniture—are waiting at the store, ready to be delivered.
I do a little dance before crossing the big space, past my gorgeous kitchen, complete with new appliances and sage-green cabinets, and open the door to the mudroom.
“They even finished this. ”
I’m in awe of the beautiful built-in space to hang coats and stow boots and shoes and bags, and the deep sink that’s next to the brand-new washer and dryer. It’ll be the perfect spot to walk into after a long and dirty day at work to shed my filthy clothes, wash my hands, and tidy up before walking through the rest of the house, so I keep my mess in one spot, near the back entrance.
The floor of the mudroom is a gorgeous black-and-white mosaic tile that looks fantastic against the same sage-green of the built-ins and kitchen cabinets.
At least this is all done before the baby is even close to being here. I won’t have to worry about trying to finish my own house before he or she arrives.
With gratitude and love taking up residence in my chest, I pull a deep breath into my lungs and open the door to the basement.
Nothing about this has changed.
“You can do this. It’s only a basement.”
I flip the light switch and start down the stairs.
“Sure, it’s creepy as all get-out, but there’s absolutely nothing down here that can hurt me. It’s totally fine. Just go in there and look for a Francine Brown who would be about the same age as Grandma, and then get the hell out of here. I’m a badass, and I’ve got this.”
The pep talk doesn’t really help, but speaking out loud takes the edge off the silence and helps to soothe me.
Once the heavy door to the body room is open, I step inside and flip on the light. The hair on the back of my neck immediately stands on end.
“Fucking creepy as hell,” I mutter, beginning my journey through the room, scanning all the nameplates. “I have to set some boundaries.”
“Do you often talk to yourself?”
“Shit!” I turn, my hand on my chest as my heart kicks up into overdrive, and find Eric, the stupid asshole from New York, standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here? This is private property. Get the fuck out of here.”
“I came to talk some sense into you,” he says as he slowly walks into the room and looks around. “Man, it’s pretty fucking creepy down here, isn’t it?”
“I want you to leave.” I need to keep the fear from showing on my face. Keep my badass attitude in the forefront, and do not let him see that I’m scared to death here. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d just kick his ass, but now I have a baby to think of.
“Too fucking bad.” His eyes flash as he glares over at me, and I curse myself for not bringing anything down here with me but my phone, which is next to useless as a weapon. He could do anything down here. No one would hear me scream.
Hold it together, June.
I don’t say anything as he continues to walk around and then circles back to the door.
I should have walked through that door when he wasn’t standing in front of it, and now I can’t.
I am not holding it together.
“What would you like to discuss, Eric?” At least my voice isn’t shaking.
“The property. Don’t act fucking stupid. It’s not cute.”
“I wasn’t trying to be cute . I just don’t see how you have any business asking questions about things that aren’t any of your concern. Even if it were, do you really think acting like this is any way to go about getting me to talk to you about it?”
“I think you’ll do exactly what I want you to do.” He smiles, but it’s a sinister, gross twist of his lips that makes a shiver run down my spine. I want him gone. “Because if you don’t, I’ll burn this place to the fucking ground. Literally. I will burn that inn, your grandmother’s house, and every other pathetic structure in this godforsaken town that means anything to you. I’ll ruin it all.”
“Because of a city-block worth of land?” I shake my head. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not that valuable. There is property in any town up and down the West Coast that you can invest in. This isn’t the only place in the world.”
“It’s the principle of it!” The scream echoes through the room, making me flinch, and the asshole has the gall to look satisfied because of it.
He’s nothing but a fucking bully.
“So, at the heart of it, if you peel back all the excuses and stuff, you’re pissed because I won.” I tilt my head and watch as a muscle in his jaw twitches and his hands ball into fists. “Are you going to hit me, Eric?”
“I want to fucking kill you. ”
It’s the absolute truth. I’ve never seen so much rage, so much hatred in someone’s face, and when I remember just how much of a disadvantage I’m at down here, I force myself to relax and adopt an unassuming posture.
“I don’t want to sell to you,” I say softly, almost apologetically, but it’s the honest truth.
“Well, then maybe spending some time in here with the…dead will give you some time to think about changing your mind. Otherwise, you’ll end up just like them.”
“Wait!”
Before I can reach him, he closes the door, and I hear him lock it from the outside.
“Open this door!” Banging with the side of my fist, full-on panic starts to settle in. I’m locked inside the body closet by myself.
I don’t even know if air can get in here.
“Please, open this door.” I hear the tears in my voice as I start to plead. “I’m pregnant. I can’t be in here. Please, open the door.”
But the lock doesn’t release, and there is only the echoing cadence of my heartbeat in my ears and hollow silence of the room.
He couldn’t have really left me locked down here.
My hands start to shake, and my breaths turn into gasps of air that aren’t enough to fill my lungs when I start to worry that he’s destroying all the work I’ve put into the living space. I picture him setting my chapel on fire and letting it burn down with me trapped beneath it.
“Oh my god, he’s going to burn me up in here.” Do I smell smoke, or is that my panicked imagination?
I pull my phone out of my pocket, but there’s no service down here. Probably because this room is lined with lead to keep out the moisture.
“Shit.” I lean back against the door and stare straight ahead in horror. Hundreds of names stare back at me. “This is my worst nightmare. This, right here.”
My breathing quickens, tripping from frantic to hyperventilation, and I can’t make it stop. My heart is beating so fast that I’m starting to get light-headed and dizzy, so I slide down the door, pull my legs to my chest, and drop my forehead to my knees.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper as the tears come. There’s a noise in the back corner that has my eyelids squeezing shut and the tears flowing faster. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, little baby.”
I swear that I can hear whispers—actual voices— and it scares me so much, that my body trembles uncontrollably.
If I cry hard enough, maybe it’ll drown out the scary sounds coming from inside this body closet.
Maybe someone will hear me.
“I didn’t even get to tell your daddy about you,” I whisper, regret for not telling Apollo swelling like a wave inside me.
What’s happening upstairs? Are we going to burn down here? I think I do smell smoke.
“No. No, we’re not going to die.”
I stand and start banging on the door again. I know that no one can hear me outside, but if someone comes into the chapel, into the mudroom, they might hear me.
There’s more whispering behind me, so I whirl around and yell, “Shut the fuck up! I’m sick of you scaring me down here. You can’t hurt me. I forbid it. So, just shut up, unless you plan on getting me out of here.”
The room falls silent, and I turn to the door once more, banging and screaming for help.
It doesn’t take long before my hands start to hurt, but I bang on the door for as long as I can stand it, but then I realize I’m just wasting energy. I need a plan, and screaming at a locked door is a terrible one.
“No one’s coming,” I whisper and rest my forehead on the door. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”