Chapter 24
Shay
Students will be able to perform under pressure.
If there was one thing small towns did with blinding efficiency, it was circulating hot gossip. I had no idea what catalyzed it from secret to gossip but there were far too many people—and goats—around to worry about that right now.
“We’re just so happy for you,” a woman said as she pushed a bouquet of flowers toward me.
“We were starting to think poor Noah would never find a nice girl,” someone added. “He’s such a sweetheart.”
If only they knew that sweetheart was a feral animal in bed.
“He is a sweetheart,” someone else agreed. “I was so happy when he outgrew that ugly duckling phase. I knew his moment was coming.”
“Are you having a reception? You have to have a reception,” another woman said, wedging a tin of cookies into the crook of my elbow.
“If you do, I’ll bake the cake,” a third woman said. “This is so exciting! Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” I managed from behind an armload of flowers, wine, and assorted treats. “I didn’t realize the news was out.”
That was a delicate way of asking how the hell all these people knew about our under-the-radar marriage and why the information landed this morning, right around the time I was keyed up for another round between the sheets with Noah.
“I heard it from Jaclyn Ramos,” a fourth woman said. “She wasn’t sure if you kids were keeping it quiet or what but then she saw you smooching all over each other last night at the festival.”
Ah, Jaclyn. This hurricane had a name. And, evidently, no concern for privacy.
“That old hen knows everything before anyone else,” another woman said. “Goes to her head too.”
“How long has she worked at Providence City Hall? What is it, thirty, thirty-five years? Of course she knows everything,” someone said. I couldn’t keep track of these people, not with all these flowers in my face. “But I’m sure these two don’t mind her spreading the word.”
Whyever would we mind half the town appearing at our door with the sunrise?
“Why would they?” someone chided. “These two are in love. Just look at them. Everything about them is so charming. That Ferris wheel damn near caught on fire last night. Everyone saw it.”
I laughed but not for the reason any of these people expected.
I laughed because they believed whatever they wanted to believe, the same way they had when I came here as a kid.
They’d seen a spoiled little rich girl and they’d filled in the blanks as they saw fit.
No one cared about knowing me beyond the highlights—famous mother, Swiss boarding school, Prada backpack—unless they wanted to know why I was living with Lollie, why I’d left the boarding school, why I couldn’t simply live with my mother and be like any other family.
Those people didn’t care to know me any more than the ones who read an entire world into the clothes my mother’s personal shopper had sent from Barneys. But they wanted a piece of me just the same.
On the other side of the drive, Noah was trapped between Jim Wheaton and a younger man Gennie had introduced as Mr. Bones a few weeks back. I was only partially convinced that was his real name.
“You married her,” I heard Jim say, his arms banded over his broad chest. “You married her.”
“And you didn’t tell us,” Mr. Bones said. “You married her and you didn’t mention a word of this.”
“You married her,” Jim repeated.
Noah glanced in my direction then, gave a slight shake of his head at the crowd gathered around us. I shrugged in response.
He arched his brows up as if to say what the hell happened?
I rolled my eyes. Fuck if I know.
He gave me a rueful smile. Could be worse, right?
I grinned back. I don’t want to know how.
One of the goats gave a loud bleat and then they all followed suit, calling and hollering back and forth until it was too noisy to continue our conversations.
The visitors started backing toward their trucks and four-wheelers, waving their goodbyes.
There were hugs and well-wishes, more bottles of wine and champagne, and several not so thinly veiled comments tossed between our visitors about how they were keeping the newlyweds from our time together.
The problem wasn’t that they were taking our time. It was that we’d never find our way back to the quiet bliss of lazing in bed with each other for the first time now that everything was out in the open.
“Time to move out,” Mr. Bones called, motioning the goats forward. “Gotta get these gals up to yoga class.”
“Why are you even here today?” Noah asked him. He motioned to Jim. “Or you? It’s Sunday .”
Jim winked. “Let’s just say it’s a special occasion.”
As the group cleared—slowly and with several invitations to join families for dinner sometime soon—Noah and I retreated toward the farmhouse.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked as he waved to Mrs. Castro and her horse.
“It seems we have Jaclyn Ramos to thank.”
“What do you mean, we have Jaclyn— fuck .” He ran a hand down his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.”
I handed him several of the wine bottles. “Nothing we can do about it now.”
He swung a glance around the drive, concern suddenly etched on his face. “Where’s Gennie?”
“I’m over here,” she called. We spun around to find her in the chicken coop, egg basket hooked on her elbow and eye patch in place. “Those people were noisy and they annoyed the shit out of me.” She snapped her fingers at one of the chickens. “Get away from me, dumbass.”
“Hey, Gen,” he said gently. “This was really hectic and surprising. I’m sorry. Can we talk, kid?”
In the chaos of this morning’s breaking news, I’d lost sight of the fact that this big reveal had probably hit Gennie the hardest. All we’d ever wanted was to protect her and to insulate her from this crazy scheme of ours, but she got tossed into the deep end all the same.
Any amount of resentment or hostility I felt over the unexpected announcement of our marriage was replaced with guilt.
The last thing she needed was more upheaval and confusion in her life, and—
“I swear, I didn’t tell anyone that you guys got married.”
Noah just stared at her for a second. “What?”
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. You don’t have to get mad. Don’t yell. I promise it wasn’t me.”
Noah and I shared yet another what the fuck glance.
When I could form words without sputtering out a long string of why and how and what , I said, “Let’s go inside and talk. You said you wanted pancakes, right? I can make pancakes.”
Gennie eyed me from inside the coop. “With chocolate chips?”
“Definitely,” I said, enthusiasm cranked up to eleven. To Noah, I whispered, “Please tell me you haven’t banned chocolate chips on account of them not occurring in nature or the disquieting uniformity of their shape.”
He blinked away. “What about a bar of chocolate cut into chunks? Would that work?”
“Oh my god.” I adjusted my hold on the goods in my arms, dangerously close to dropping all of it. “Everyone inside. We’re making breakfast. Let’s go.”
* * *
Now that I’d assigned myself the task of making pancakes, all I had to do was hunt down a recipe and then open each cabinet and drawer in Noah’s kitchen to find everything I needed.
Easy peasy. Much easier and much peasier than Noah’s task of sitting Gennie down at the table and getting to the bottom of her little bombshell.
“You are not in trouble and I’m not upset,” Noah said. “I am not yelling. Right? Can we agree on that?”
Instead of answering, Gennie asked, “Was it supposed to be a secret from me?”
He glanced between me and Gennie. I went looking for a mixing bowl.
“So, you see,” he started, “it wasn’t a secret so much as—”
“You guys would make the worst pirates,” she yelled. “You’d never take over any ships or steal any loot.”
Noah sighed. “Okay, well, be that as it may, I’d like to know what tipped you off and—”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” she insisted, her arms folded over her chest and her shoulders bunched up to her ears. “I don’t suck at keeping secrets.”
He dropped his arms to the table. “But how did you know?”
Gennie held up a finger. “You were looking at marriage stuff on your computer, you got dressed up in fancy clothes that one day and when I asked why you were dressed up, you said it was for adult business, and you guys are really obvious with all the love shit.”
“The love shit,” Noah repeated.
I whisked some eggs. I wasn’t sure if that was part of the recipe but it seemed like the right thing to do.
“Yeah, you’re in love and everything,” Gennie said, as if she was stating the obvious. “That’s why you had a sleepover with Shay last night and you’re always doing nice stuff for her.”
He looked up at me, his eyes wide and searching. I kept whisking.
“If you guys didn’t want me to notice, you shouldn’t have been kissing each other all the time.”
“I guess we’ll have to work on that,” Noah said.
“I don’t care,” Gennie replied. “It’s not gross anymore. I’m used to it now.”
“That’s a relief,” he said under his breath.
“Is Shay going to move in? I think that’s what married people do. They live together in the same house.” She hit me with a big, expectant smile. “You can sleep in my room. I like the top bunk better but you can have it if you want.”
I stared at Gennie and Noah, my fingers growing numb around the whisk.
No. No, no, no. That wasn’t an option. I was lonely in Lollie’s big, empty house but it was my big, empty place to be lonely.
It was where I wallowed in self-pity and invented wild explanations for the ex’s exit from my life, where I drank wine in my underwear and ate pudding for breakfast. It was my cocoon, my safe, private space where I didn’t have to pretend everything was all right and I could be as miserable or drunk or morose as I wanted.
I needed Lollie’s house more than I needed to maintain appearances on my fake marriage.