Chapter 24
chapter twenty-four
Audrey
Today's vocabulary word: counsel
I trudged along the side of the road, my strappy beige wedges gathering gritty dust with every step. Not even an hour past dawn and the dry, thin air of the high desert was already oven-hot. That sun was unrelenting.
I held my phone over my head, flailing in search of a signal.
I'd woken to ribbons of early morning light sliding in through the sides of the curtains and the absolute certainty that Jamie would know what to do with my present state of affairs.
That left me to sneak out of the room and far enough away from the motel to unload every detail of the past three days on her.
Except I couldn't get a signal.
This left me wandering the streets of Grandwood Valley in shoes that would need to be laid to rest after this trip and paying no attention at all to where I was going.
I finally stumbled onto a stable signal outside a livestock feed store and ducked into a wedge of shade while I waited for Jamie to answer. It was early for her, even with the time zone difference.
"Hello, my love," she sang, her voice bringing a rush of relief to my chest. "How's it going? Tell me everything."
"How long do you have?"
She cackled. "It's moving day, so maybe just the highlights, but I'll have all the time in the world for you tomorrow."
"Oh my god, that's right." I pressed a hand to my forehead. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten. "How's it going?"
"Well, I'm already counting down the minutes until I drop my ass into a kiddie pool in the backyard and drink my weight in moonshine margaritas, if that answers your question.
" She laughed again and I heard the shriek of packing tape in the background.
"You know I'm so happy that my roommates are starting on new journeys and everything is wonderful and joyous for them. "
"But," I prompted.
"But I am twenty-nine and moving in with my dad," she said, her tone flat.
"I know, honey," I said.
"I'm working very hard at telling myself it's not a failure or a step backward.
I'm going to have a real kitchen and so much more space—and let's not forget about the kiddie pool in the backyard.
There are no kiddie pools in my life right now.
Or backyards. I mean, I live in a building that used to mass-produce spaghetti.
There's nothing sexy about that. There's nothing sexy about living with my dad either but alas I am a lady of multitudes. "
"You're moving in with him only because he needs your help," I added.
Her relationship with her father had its own index of complications but his health wasn't in a great place and he couldn't live alone anymore—not that he'd admit it.
Now, with her roommates moving out and on to new adventures, the time was right to go home. "No part of that says failure, James."
"I know, I know." I could almost hear her bobbing her head.
"And this is better than staying there half the time and trying to check in on him only for his phone to be off the other half.
It's just a change that I haven't totally embraced and I kind of want someone to stamp an asterisk on my forehead so I can say Yes, I'm moving home but not like that. "
"You'd look cute with an asterisk on your forehead," I said. "It could serve several purposes."
"It really could." I heard her gulp down a drink. Then, "Give me the quick and dirty on your fake-fiancée tour."
"We've had every travel disaster in the world, and ended up getting stuck in a small town in Utah—I think? I don't even know where I am anymore—where we're sharing a horror movie motel room that has a ceiling leak, lizards, and only one bed. And—"
"Hold up, baby girl," she said. "You're sharing a room and a bed?"
I emptied everything into a sigh. "Yes."
"Mmhmm." I could hear her smug grin. "Go on."
"I was dancing with bull riders last night and then we yelled at each other for a few minutes before we kissed and did a few other things and had some sex—"
"You had some sex? What does that even mean? Oh my god, Audrey, never change."
"It would've turned into quite a lot of sex if his kid hadn't called."
After a beat of silence, I heard a slow clap. "I always knew you had it in you."
"Jamie! What should I do?" I wailed.
"Why do you have to do anything? Just let it happen."
"I can't let it happen," I said.
"And why not? I'm just saying, you're supposed to be putting on this elaborate show of being engaged and there's obviously some tension there so why not ride it out?" She chuckled. "Literally."
"Because—because we can't go down that road again," I said, though it sounded like a pathetic excuse even to my ears. The most pathetic excuse. But it was also true, as much as I hated it. "And I don't think he wants that."
"Right, right, right," she murmured. "He's probably very meh about the whole thing.
When you think about it, he dreamed you up—specifically you—as his fiancée and orchestrated this whole thing and participated in the jealous arguing, kissing, and getting half undressed.
That's all very vague. I'm straining to connect the heart-shaped dots over here. "
"That's not what's happening and I never said anything about jealous arguing."
"No, you didn't. You just prefaced it by saying you danced with bull riders, plural—nicely done, by the way—so I'm left to assume this boy of yours didn't enjoy watching from the sidelines."
"Fine. Let's say that's true. That means his reaction was about the heat of the moment and nothing else."
"You're saying he was so overcome by watching other guys touch you that the only thing he could do was make sure you remembered him touching you?" Jamie laughed. "Yeah. You're probably right. That meant nothing."
"We just can't go there," I said.
"Why not?" Before I could respond, she went on. "Not the wacky little stories you tell yourself to keep from doing the things you want, but seriously, truly, actually why not? Because I can't see a single downside to making the most of being trapped in a motel room with your possessive ex."
"I know what you're doing," I said.
"Fabulous, but do you know what you're doing? Because I'd call it ignoring obvious signs."
I huddled closer to the side of the feed store as the sun swallowed up my shade. I could feel it scorching the back of my arms. "I can't go there with him again. There's no way it would work out and, anyway, our lives are going in totally different directions."
"And who's to say they have to keep going in those directions? Or that those directions aren't meant to converge?"
"James, I love you, but I can't have an existential conversation right now. I need to know how to spend five non-awkward hours in a car with my alleged fiancé after we mauled each other last night."
"You want to find out where his head's at? Ignore him."
I shook my head. "What?"
"Yeah. Trust me on this. Read a book. Knit a scarf. Pop in some earbuds and listen to a podcast. Whatever. Do your own thing. Be aloof—you're remarkably good at that."
"Thank you?"
"Anytime, babe. Quiet yourself down and give him time to let those thoughts of his swirl themselves into a tornado. Just like they did when you started dirty dancing."
"It wasn't dirty dancing."
"If they were bull riders, it was dirty dancing. They don't know any other way."
"And how do you know anything about bull riders?" I asked.
"We don't have time for a lesson in ropes today," she said. "We'll sit in the kiddie pool when you're back home and have a single girls' night, and we'll get into it. If that boy doesn't wife you up before then."
"There will be no wifeing up on this trip," I whisper-yelled.
Behind me, a throat cleared. Loudly.
I had a feeling I knew who that sound belonged to. I dug my teeth into my lower lip and turned to find Jude standing a few feet away, his hands on his hips. Sunglasses hid his eyes but I recognized the cocky arch of his brow, the hard tick in his jaw.
"James," I said to her, still staring at him, "I'll call you tomorrow. Have fun in the pool."
"What's happening? Is he there? Oh my god, he's there, isn't he? How much did he hear? I need to know. Prepare to be sick of me. Save every crumb for me and I'll eat them from the palm of your hand."
Jude swept a glance over my long sundress and the wedges stained dusty red. "Whenever you're ready," he started, nodding at the rental car I hadn't noticed pull up in front of the feed store, "we can get going."
"I'll talk to you later," I said to Jamie. "Love you." I ended the call as Jamie went on howling for details. "How did you know where to find me? Did you put a tracker on me? Like a microchip for a golden retriever?"
He sanded his knuckles through his scruff, his brows lifting in consideration. "No, but that's a good idea. Would save me some time." When I only stared at him, he added, "Small town. Not a lot of options."
I nodded, glancing over to the car. "I just need to get my—"
"Already loaded the luggage," he said.
"Oh. Okay." I shielded my eyes from the sun to see him better. "Thanks."
"Come on." He reached out, trailed the backs of his fingers down my arm until his hand circled my wrist. "You're getting sunburned."
Whatever it was that held me together—the hard leather of scars, and the social graces, and the mental corsets—eased until a strangely deep breath bubbled out of me. I felt a tug on those bindings, a finger tripping over the laces until he found the spot to start taking me apart.