Chapter Twenty-two
Lake
I slept late, stretching luxuriously when I woke, and unsurprised to find the bed empty. Baxter liked to be up early. So did I, in an ideal world. But unlike him, I needed an alarm clock to achieve it, something neither of us had thought to set while in the throes of passion. Or afterward.
Rolling onto my back, I replayed the previous night, parts of it already taking on a dreamlike quality.
Such as the fact that I’d openly acknowledged the possibility of falling in love with Baxter.
He hadn’t balked at it, though, had he? He’d taken it in his stride.
What did that mean? I hoped it meant we were on the same page.
Oh, to be able to read his mind the same way he could mine.
Baxter said something downstairs, the low rumble of his voice making me smile.
Was he talking to himself? Was that something he did?
There was so much to learn about him. Did he like films?
He’d missed so many good ones over the last two decades.
I could show them to him. We could have a weekly movie night.
And if he hated my taste, we could bicker about it.
He could treat my preference in films the same way he treated my love of history.
Another voice floated up from downstairs.
Female.
My smile vanished as I sat bolt upright.
Verity. Fuck. What was she doing here? And more importantly, what was she saying to Baxter?
I hadn’t mentioned him to her yet because I’d known exactly how she’d react, but in hindsight, easing her in before she bumped into him would have been preferable to this.
Fueled by the urgent need to rescue him, I made it to the top of the stairs before realizing I was naked. Not the ideal way to greet your sister in the morning. I retreated to the bedroom, weighing my options. Take longer to get dressed? Or grab a robe? I settled for the robe.
Still barefoot, I charged downstairs, arriving at the open door to the living room with what I assumed was a truly tragic case of bedhead. I smoothed a hand over my hair, trying to tame it into some sort of order while I took in the scene before me.
Baxter sat on the sofa, fully dressed. He was a study in casualness, one arm stretched along the back, the other holding a steaming mug of tea.
Verity sat several feet away, a yawning chasm between them. She’d dragged a chair in from the kitchen, presumably so she didn’t have to share the sofa with Baxter. In contrast to Baxter’s sprawl, her posture was ramrod straight. A mug of tea that appeared untouched sat at her feet.
“He lives,” she said dryly when she spotted me
The air crackled with tension.
“Morning!” Baxter said cheerfully. “I’ve been getting to know your sister. Don’t worry. I made her tea.”
“I wanted coffee,” Verity said. “You know I drink coffee in the morning. But apparently you no longer have any, for reasons I couldn’t determine.” She smiled. It wasn’t her usual smile. It was more shark-like. All teeth and no warmth. “I thought perhaps someone had stolen it.”
“They didn’t.”
“Well, that clears that up.”
No one spoke for what felt like an hour, but was likely only thirty seconds. I gave myself a mental shake. “This is Baxter,” I said, gesturing weakly in his direction. “Baxter, this is my sister, Verity.”
“Yeah, we did that bit,” she said. “When he answered the door and I didn’t know who the hell he was.”
“Great!” I said, sounding anything but. I wanted to rewind time and do things differently. In this alternate universe, I’d message Verity and tell her I’d met a fantastic guy, and we were building something that I truly thought might be everything I’d ever dreamed of.
Baxter put his mug down and stood. “I’m going to leave you two to it.”
“You don’t have to.”
He smiled. “I should head home and change.”
“Oh, he doesn’t live here yet,” Verity muttered. “I guess that’s something at least. Small mercies and all that.”
I ignored her. “Stay.”
Baxter shook his head. “I have exciting things like laundry to do. Plus”—he grimaced—“I was thinking today might be a good day to tackle the next stage of facing up to things.”
“Which is?”
“Either Calisto or my parents.” He pulled a coin from his pocket. “Heads, Calisto. Tails, my parents.”
“I’m still here,” Verity said pointedly. “Just in case you’ve forgotten that.”
Baxter threw the coin up, catching it on the back of his hand and keeping it covered. “Which outcome are you hoping for?” I asked.
“Calisto. Less explaining. More apologizing.”
He revealed the coin. Heads.
“You got your wish.”
“Yeah.” Relief washed over his face.
“If you wait while I get dressed, I can come with you.”
“Oh, yeah… Don’t worry about me,” Verity said. “I can just sit here and wait all day. I have nothing better to do.”
“No,” Baxter said. “It’s just Calisto.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek, his tiny smirk giving away that he knew exactly what he was doing. I turned my head, catching his lips instead, smile and all. “I’ll call you later.”
“Make sure you do,” I called after him. “And good luck. I’m sure he’ll understand if you’re honest with him.”
He saluted and left. Which left me with no choice but to face my sister.
“Oh, you can see me,” she said. “I was starting to think I’d turned invisible.”
I sat on the sofa, the cushions still warm from Baxter. Picking up his mug, I took a sip, Verity watching me like a hawk. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“Evidently. Or no doubt you’d have ferried your new man out of the door before I got here.”
“Maybe. Or at least introduced you properly.”
“Having any knowledge of him whatsoever would have been nice.” The hurt in Verity’s voice made me feel like a complete dick.
“I knew what you’d say.”
“That he’s too young?”
I inclined my head in recognition of her hitting the nail on the head. “He’s not really. It’s… complicated.” Understatement of the day.
“Let me guess… he’s actually your age and just very committed to Botox?”
“Not quite.”
“I thought you were dating Glenn. He forgave you for messing up your first date. He’s nice. Funny. He’s got a good job and a stable income.”
“He’s all of those things. But…”
Verity picked up her tea and took a sip, her expression betraying her feelings about being forced to drink it in a morning. “But what?”
“Glenn doesn’t make my heart beat faster.”
“And Baxter does?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re already sleeping together?”
I nodded. I wasn’t about to deny it. I wasn’t Judas.
Verity shook her head. “You’ve got to see how destructive this pattern is, Lake. It was only a few weeks ago that Carl did a complete number on you, and you’ve already found yourself a similar replacement.”
“They’re nothing alike. Carl was a manipulative con-artist, who didn’t give a shit about me. Baxter is… different.”
“Does he have a job?”
“Yes. A good one. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“He’s currently suspended.”
She closed her eyes. “Of course he is.”
“He’s had some problems.”
She gave a nod filled with resignation.
“Don’t do that. Did he seem awful just now?”
“We didn’t really talk. I glared. He smiled.”
That made me smile. “Sounds about right. He’s a good guy.”
“You said that about Carl.”
“And I was wrong. I’m not this time.”
“And when Baxter steals your bed?”
“Actually, he bought me a bed.”
She frowned. “You hadn’t replaced the bed. Why didn’t you tell me? We would have helped you out.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
She abandoned her chair and joined me on the sofa, averting her gaze so sharply it was a wonder she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Please fix your robe. I don’t want to spend years in therapy because I’ve seen parts of you I never wanted to see.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as I rearranged the folds of fabric. “I was in a rush to get down here.”
“I get the impression he can look after himself.”
“Yes and no…”
She sighed. “Okay… I’ll bite. Tell me all about Baxter.”
I did, making sure not to leave anything out.
The moments when she expressed incredulity were unsurprising.
I’d done the same. When I finished, there was a long silence while she processed everything.
“I’m not mad,” I said when it dragged on long past being comfortable.
“I know it all sounds batshit crazy, but it’s true. ”
“So if he’d lived, he’d be…?”
“Forty-three.”
She considered that for a moment. “And he can read minds? It’s not some sort of con?”
“He can.”
“So he was probably reading mine earlier?”
“Probably.”
She frowned. “That’s invasive.”
“You get used to it.”
“And you’re head over heels for him?”
“Pretty much.”
“Oh, Lake…”
Her tone raised my hackles. “What?”
“Someone killed him. What if you’re getting yourself mixed up in something dangerous?”
I rolled my eyes. “What part of the story about visiting his killer in prison was confusing? What do you think he’s going to do? Escape and come after him?”
“Don’t tempt fate.”
“Baxter just needs a bit of TLC.”
“And you’re the man to give it to him?”
“I am.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“So you’ll be nice to him?”
“I’ll try.”
That was as good as I was going to get from her. “Good. That deserves me getting dressed and taking you out for coffee?”
Her eyes lit up. “Now you’re talking.”
We were out the door in under ten minutes, Verity shouting up the stairs every minute and asking if I was ready yet having a lot to do with that.
As we stepped out of the door, a prickling sensation between my shoulder blades had me scanning the street.
For a moment, it had felt as if someone was watching me. Which was ridiculous.