Chapter 17
seventeen
T he next week flew by in a tangle of silks, spreadsheets, and veggie burgers.
Rosalyn waited at the front desk in the Magnolia Library for Harper, who had gone to get the final schedule for the Friends of the Library booth that Mrs. Peters insisted on Cade having. A cluster of kids giggled from the children’s area, and the scent of lemon cleaner hovered over the polished counter. The bank of computers across the far wall were empty, save for a man in a fedora hunched over the desktop keyboard. He looked up, made eye contact, then looked back to the screen. To her left, a janitor ran a push-broom over the foyer floor.
Rosalyn soaked in the quiet, the peace, the scent of old novels. Since her confession during the mapping, she’d seen Cade every day and, thankfully, they’d found their old—or maybe new?—rhythm. She’d brought him lunch that Elisa supplied from the diner, helped update spreadsheets on her way back from training, and trotted with him around town, checking on vendors and responding to a dozen phone calls. She’d even snuck him a veggie patty once or twice and he hadn’t noticed it wasn’t beef, which only proved how stressed he was.
He thought he was hiding it, but she recognized the crinkles in the corner of his eyes, the forced edges to his smile, from senior year study hall. When Mrs. Peters insisted Cade come get the schedule that he absolutely did not need, she’d immediately volunteered in his stead.
The midday walk—and the brief respite from the proximity to Cade in his office—had done wonders to clear her own head. Forgetting their kiss and remembering all the new boundaries hadn’t been easy the past week. Neither had trying to figure out if the chemistry she still felt was only on her side, or if maybe he was that talented an actor after all.
Of course, checking over her shoulder every few hours reminded her why she was making the choices she was making.
She and Cade hadn’t spoken of her issues with Blaine again, save for Cade asking once more if there was anything he could do to help on the legal side. To which she’d adamantly assured him no. The last thing she needed was Cade discovering the truth about her loan, the Mafia. She couldn’t put anyone else in her danger—hence her ultimate reason for not wanting her parents to know. If the wrong people realized how wealthy Dad was, they could come after her family for what Rosalyn owed.
She’d much rather grit her teeth and pay off her debt and put it all behind her. But that meant trusting Blaine to do what he’d said he was going to do…and somehow keeping him happy and at bay until he did.
“Here it is!” Harper returned to the counter, sliding the laminated schedule across the desk. She winked. “I hope Cade is paying you extra to be his assistant.”
“Ha.” Rosalyn took the list, still warm from the laminator. “I think you’re the one going over and above.” She wiggled the sheet of paper.
Harper rolled her eyes with a smile. “I don’t mind. It could be worse.” She peeked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “That’s one plus of having been friends with Amber for all of high school—she prepared us for difficult bosses.”
“She’d probably be mad at me now if she knew I was helping Cade this much for free.” Rosalyn grinned. “I can almost hear her giving me a lecture on women’s rights and wages.”
Harper straightened a stack of bookmarks. “To be fair, she probably kept us from unnecessary heartache. Getting past her to go on a date wasn’t worth the fight, was it?”
Well, Cade might have been worth it. But he hadn’t ever asked.
And Rosalyn sure wasn’t going to have been prom date number three.
She shrugged, hoping to appear unaffected. Old habits died hard when it came to talking about boys with this group of girls. “Maybe.”
“You do realize why she hated Cade so much, right?” Harper asked.
Rosalyn stilled. “What do you mean?”
Harper’s eyes sparkled with a conspiratorial wink. “She had a crush on him, obviously.”
“What?” No way. “Amber didn’t like anyone . Especially not Cade.”
“Gabby told me. Amber got drunk one night, right after starting her freshman year at Harvard. She called Gabby, all in her feels about ‘the one that got away’ and started telling stories about Cade. That’s why she was always so hard on him—she knew he’d never go for her.” Harper shrugged. “Gabby told me all that a long time ago.”
Wow. No wonder Amber was always so dead set on keeping Rosalyn and Cade apart. She shook her head. “I guess we all have our secrets, don’t we?”
“That’s for sure.” Harper winced. “Hopefully most of them got left behind in our teenaged years.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? Rosalyn tilted her head. “Speaking of dating, are you seeing anyone these days?”
“I’m sure Amber would be thrilled to know I’m not.” Harper wrinkled her nose. “Mrs. Peters too. She was fussing about one of our part-timers leaving early for an anniversary date.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I believe the words ‘irresponsible’ and ‘frivolous’ were both used.”
“Surprising. I remember Mrs. Peters being a romantic. Hanging all those valentine decorations up when we were younger.” Rosalyn smiled. “The paper hearts would rain glitter during story hour, and my mom would have a heck of a time brushing my hair later.”
“I think her snub toward romance is new.” Harper shrugged. “Or at least, that’s what my coworkers say. I haven’t worked here long.”
“There’s a story there, I’m sure.”
“Who knows? Maybe I’ll write it one day.” Harper shook back her long red hair.
“You should!” Rosalyn checked her watch. “I better get back to the office, but I’ll be sure to come see your booth next week during the festival.” She skimmed the schedule and pointed to a bullet point halfway down the list. “Preferably during the story hour when you’re dressed like a princess?” She grinned.
“I get paid very well here.” Harper laughed. “Plus, it’s all fodder for that future book, right?”
They said their goodbyes, and Rosalyn left the library, clutching the list Cade didn’t need. Should she even show it to him, or ditch it before she got back? She headed down the street toward Cade’s office, tucking the list under her arm.
She tilted her head back as she walked, eyes closed, face to the sunshine pouring over Village Lane. The scent of flowers lingered in the air, and despite the beads of sweat forming on her back in the summer humidity, it was a good day. Warmth seeped into her muscles, loosening the tension in her upper back. Her knee felt fine today too, which was good news for the festival—and bad news for her future. Her days of stalling before returning to Blaine and her performance circuit were nearing an end.
The hair on the back of Rosalyn’s neck stood on end.
She turned, but her vision was still temporarily affected by the residual brightness of the sun. She blinked, fighting the distorted shadows. But nothing was there, just an empty sidewalk covered in chalk drawings and a squirrel darting up a pine tree.
Weird. She’d definitely sensed…something.
She turned toward the other side of the street and there—Sadie was checking the mailbox in front of Second Story. The middle-aged woman, dressed in a flowing dress, waved, and Rosalyn waved back, her heart rate slowing to normal. That had to have been it.
But she should probably walk with her eyes open all the same.
Rosalyn kept on down Village Lane, which seemed oddly deserted when compared to her previous walks with Cade. Then again, it was almost noon. The Magnolia Blossom was probably hopping—which sounded good today—but she couldn’t justify yet another veggie burger on her limited funds. She shook her head. Weird that months ago she was on a world tour, dining on champagne and caviar, and now she was avoiding daily diner specials because they were too expensive.
But after her debt was paid, she could work long enough to rebuild her savings. And then…well, then, who knew? She’d be free—and that was all that mattered.
A shadow darted across the street.
Rosalyn jerked to a stop, pulse thudding in her ears. Was that…No. Just the sun going behind a cloud. She rolled her eyes. What did she think was going to happen? No one knew where she was that wasn’t supposed to know, and Blaine hadn’t even tried to call the past few days.
She was safe.
So why the chills prickling her neck?
Rosalyn glanced back, wondering if she could keep going to Cade’s office or backtrack to Sadie. And say…what? Don’t look now, but the Mafia might be after me? Right.
She resumed walking.
A branch cracked.
She spun again, squinting to see the source. Someone had definitely ducked behind that oak on the corner.
Her heart stopped, then lunged back against her chest as she peered harder into the foliage. A person. A man .
She gasped. The man with the fedora.
From the library.
Now walking straight toward her.
* * *
Cade leaned back in his office chair, grateful that Rosalyn had gone to the library for him because, A—Mrs. Peters’s demand that he have a printed schedule of the Friends of the Library booth was a ridiculous waste of time, and mostly B—it gave him a chance to finish the sleuthing he’d started and not been able to finish yet on Rosalyn’s situation.
Keeping one eye on the door for her return, he tapped a few more keys, pulling up a third browser tab and waiting as the icon spun. A small tower of books he’d brought back from Yale were stacked, the top one flipped open, next to his pencil cup and a half-eaten bag of Doritos. His computer hummed. Come on, load .
With every spin, his confidence sank. This was a long shot. He’d failed the bar—what business did he have thinking he’d find a needle in a legal haystack?
He’d already called and sweet-talked Liz over at the courthouse to give him access to the digital files, normally only available via an account and monthly fee. No one had time for that. So he’d played the mayor’s son card he despised yet kept up his sleeve for a time such as this.
Because Rosalyn was worth it.
That access led him to a few dead-ends and more eye-spiraling technical jargon than he’d read in years but eventually proved what he’d thought he’d remembered about marriage license clauses from law school.
He hit a few more keys.
Aha . Further proof filled his monitor.
Cade pulled back up the second tab he’d saved and re-read the fine print. Hope filled his chest—which was silly. This changed nothing between him and Rosalyn, necessarily.
But it could change a lot for her.
He stared at the blinking cursor and frowned, tapping one finger against the mouse. One problem remained.
He had to tell her.
Which meant he had to admit to doing exactly what she’d asked him not to do.
Cade stood abruptly, pocketed his keys, and headed to the office foyer. A rush of cool AC blasted him in the hall. Maybe he could start walking and meet Rosalyn on her way back from the library. Try along the way to figure out the right words to let her know the good news.
His heart thudded. “I’ll be back, Pearl.” He waved at his secretary, who quickly exited her solitaire game.
“I’ll hold down the fort.” Pearl offered a salute. “Feel free to bring back some Bayou Beignets.”
Those did sound good. Cade rode the elevator down to the first floor. The door chimed and opened, and he stepped out as a blonde figure burst inside.
They collided hard.
He steadied the woman bouncing off his chest, grabbing her arms to keep them upright. The scent of citrus filled his nose.
Rosalyn.
“Ace—what are you doing?” He cupped her cheek, scanning her face for injuries. “Are you okay?”
Crimson flushed both cheeks. Her chest heaved as if she’d been running. “I don’t know.” Panic lingered in her eyes as she struggled out of his grip and turned around, looking behind her.
His arm automatically wrapped around her, protecting her, and he tugged her out of the way of the elevator. “What happened?” He looked over her head and skimmed the lobby, empty except for three potted ferns and a tired coffee pot gurgling next to a sleeve of Styrofoam cups.
Not a threat in sight.
“He was right behind me.” Rosalyn faced Cade, her shoulders tense beneath his hands.
“Who?” He slid his hands down her arms, catching her fingers. She held on. “Who was?”
“This man, in a hat.” She drew a shuddered breath. “I think he followed me from the library.”
A man? Cade pushed past her to the glass front doors of the complex. He stepped outside. No one.
He turned back to Rosalyn, searching her face. Trying to understand what she wasn’t saying. “He’s gone.” But was he ever there? Maybe Cade wasn’t the only one stressing lately, fighting panic attacks.
Rosalyn nibbled her lip, wrapping her arms around herself as she slowly joined him outside. “Maybe I was paranoid.”
Cade feigned seriousness. “Must have been a really bad hat.”
She didn’t smile. “He was in the library, and then he was behind a tree, watching me. When I saw him, he came toward me, but I ran the last block here.” Her gaze searched the streets, mostly empty during the lunch hour save for a few dog-walkers.
“Come on. Let’s talk.” Cade took her elbow, led her to a bench nestled in a grove of trees near the office complex. She didn’t protest, and it was then he realized she still clutched the paper she’d gone to the library for under her arm.
He tugged it free. “I see this made it unscathed.”
She smiled, finally, and his heart cheered. Victory. She surrendered the laminated paper. “Like a roach in a nuclear bomb.”
He tossed it on the bench next to them, draped one arm behind her. “Spill it, Ace. Why did a man in a hat scare you so badly?”
She pressed her fingers against her temples, took a deep breath. “This is embarrassing.”
“Probably not as embarrassing as his hat.”
Score. Another smile.
She met his eyes then, spotty shadows speckling her face as the tree branches overhead interrupted the sun. “I think I overreacted.”
“That’s okay. But something is making you scared. Suspicious.”
Her emerald gaze left his and moved past him, looking at something behind him. She washed pale. “There he is.”
He turned in time to see a man—yes, in a really bad fedora—quick-stepping down the sidewalk toward them.
Cade quickly stood, positioning himself in front of Rosalyn. “Can I help you?” He didn’t even need Simon LeMoine. The adrenaline, topped with the desire to help Rosalyn, to be what she needed, gave him enough confidence to take down the entire Magnolia High football team.
Plus, the guy was scrawny.
The man drew close enough for Cade to see he was maybe ten years older than them. He wore a wrinkled button-down and a sheepish expression and carried a camera. “I’m so sorry. I think I frightened you, Miss Dupree.”
Rosalyn’s hand landed on Cade’s back as she stood, moving to his side but not fully away from his protection. “Do I know you?”
He stopped a respectful distance away, took off the fedora. “Name’s Albert Wally. I work for the Pelican in Jefferson Parish.” Gestured with his camera. “Heard you were performing in the Cajun Circus and wanted a photo.”
Paparazzi.
“Oh.” Rosalyn’s sigh escaped, slowly, like a leak from a balloon. “The newspaper.”
Well, maybe she was relieved, but Cade was annoyed. “Dude, you followed her? Then came out of the bushes at her?” He took a step forward—Simon LeMoine would’ve been proud—and glared. “That’s nuts, man.”
Albert backed up, hands raised “I’m sorry. Candids get better page time. But she saw me, so I thought I’d explain who I was. Not a creeper or anything.” He shrugged, pink swiping his pale cheeks. “I haven’t worked this job long. Not very good at it yet.”
“Maybe consider a different profession.” Cade crossed his arms over his chest. “Like one where people give you permission to take their picture.”
“I’ll prove I don’t have any saved.” Albert extended his camera, fiddled with the buttons. The lens cap fell off and hit the ground, and he groaned.
“No, it’s fine.” Rosalyn shook her head. “Please…go.” She sank back to the bench.
Albert grabbed the cap, fumbling to replace it as he dipped his hat and left.
Cade waited until his figure was all but out of sight before he sat back next to Rosalyn, flexing his fingers that he hadn’t realized were curled in fists. “I always wondered how famous you really were. Guess that answers my question.”
Her face was still pale, her chuckle forced. Something wasn’t right. And she didn’t even know his news. Would she clam up when he told her what he’d learned about her marriage? The pressure to have her tell him whatever this secret was first, before he risked shutting her down, fisted in his chest.
He let his arm rest behind her on the back of the bench, his fingers lightly grazing her shoulder. Providing a point of contact, something concrete. For both of them. “Rosalyn, who did you think Albert was?”
She stared at the clover growing near their feet.
“Come on, it’s me.” Nerves bunched in Cade’s stomach. “Just tell me.”
“Fine.” She swallowed, let out a half-choked laugh. “I thought he was with the Mafia.”
* * *
One day she was going to stop shocking Cade every time she opened her mouth.
To his credit, when she dropped this bomb, he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he went still on the bench, to the point that she stared at him until he finally blinked and she became certain he was breathing.
“Okay.” A muscle jumped in his jaw and he nodded. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t panic. Didn’t doubt her.
That was the greatest gift he could have given.
She released a sigh, her pulse still struggling to slow after the false alarm. Birds chirped, killing the silence that landed between her and Cade.
Cade’s arm pulled free from around her on the bench, and it wasn’t until that moment she realized how much that light graze on her shoulder had comforted her. He leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “Is there more about that you want to tell me?”
She hesitated, and he held up one hand. “On second thought…” He angled to face her, still bent forward, chin propped on his fingers. “Let me go first. I have a confession.”
Uh-oh. Though honestly, after her last two, how bad could his be?
She crossed one leg over the other, settling in. “I’m listening.”
“Something I remembered from law school niggled at me after you told me about Blaine.” He winced, looked at the ground. Scuffed his shoe through the grass. “So I did some digging.”
Even though she’d asked him not to? Her chest tightened. “Go on.”
“I have all the proof on my computer upstairs, if you want to see the proof, but Rosalyn…” His voice trailed off, and he held her gaze. “I don’t think you’re married.”
Even the birds quieted for that one.
She waited. Afraid to hope. Annoyed he’d ignored her request, but also—what if he was right? He spoke with such confidence. “Can you explain?”
“Of course.” His shoulders relaxed, and he sat up, an easiness filling his countenance now. “First, I saw that Blaine hadn’t filed for an annulment in the US. He filed for a marriage certificate.”
“Right.” Rosalyn frowned. “He said he had to do that step before we could file for the divorce. Something to do with the international complication.”
Cade’s eyes softened. “I think he lied.”
She started to defend him, then realized Blaine would lie. The only reason she wanted to defend Blaine was to defend herself and the bad decisions she kept making.
Cade continued. “What is true is that there’s a clause on marriage certificates that reference whether the marriage was entered into under duress.”
She sucked in a breath. Duress. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“You can file to contest the marriage. And with the origin of the marriage happening overseas, and with the fact that you and Blaine have never co-habited, I’d imagine it wouldn’t take much to get it approved. Any decent lawyer could help with that.” Cade frowned. “If you want to have it approved, that is.”
“Of course I do.” Her thoughts raced. Blaine had lied, that much was certain—and at this point, not surprising. Not after the way he’d changed since they’d come back to the US. But this seemed a bit much, even for him. Maybe he really didn’t know how the law worked.
Her stomach clenched. Or maybe he didn’t want to annul it.
As if reading her mind, Cade quirked an eyebrow at her. “Can you think of any reason that Blaine would be trying to cement your marriage further rather than annul it?” He hesitated. “Did you two ever?—”
Rosalyn shuddered. “ No .”
“Making sure. That could complicate the process.”
“Is that the only reason you’d care?” The words she’d never intended to speak rode the last of her adrenaline right out of her lips. She pressed them together, but it was too late. They were out there, between them.
Cade’s eyes widened. He leaned back against the bench. “No.”
Oh. He’d actually answered. Her stomach cartwheeled. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“Agreed.”
Silence pulsed again. She wanted to sink into the bench, then below it. Straight down to the core of the earth. Where she could quit making a mess of things. Quit listening to the wrong voices—namely, her own.
“Look, Ace. I’ve taken punches for you before.” He snorted. “Thought I might have to again today.”
“Nah, you totally had that guy.” She smiled, the compliment the least she could offer.
“I’m serious. I want to help you.” He held both of his hands up in a sign of surrender. “No more, no less.”
“I appreciate it.” She did. Even if she wanted it to be “more.” This was too complicated, too much.
Always the timing, with them.
Cade’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “So you’re not mad I sleuthed?”
“If that means this whole marriage issue can be put behind me sooner, then no. I’m grateful.” Confused, maybe, about Blaine and his motives. But grateful.
“Do you want me to file the dissolution request for you?” A different question lingered in Cade’s eyes, one she couldn’t quite put words to and wasn’t sure she wanted to try.
“Yes, please.” Blaine might get notice that she’d taken that legal step, but hopefully not until after the circus. She could smooth things over, then, once she was back performing professionally. And then once her debt was paid, she could be free of Blaine forever.
Maybe free of all of it.
Cade nodded. “I’ll handle it first thing in the morning. Whatever paperwork is involved, I’ll print and bring for you to sign.”
“Thank you. I know you’re busy.”
“Not too busy for this.” He tucked his hands behind his neck. “Which brings us back to—the Mafia?”
“That brings us back to Blaine, still.”
Cade squinted, clearly trying to follow. “So what’s his angle?”
“I don’t know, other than maybe control of some kind? That’s Blaine’s specialty.” She used to find it endearing, the way he handled everything for her. Protective.
Just another thing she’d been wrong about.
“Well, if this marriage procrastination isn’t about s—” Cade cleared his throat, gestured toward Rosalyn. “—um, you, personally , then I’d wager it’s probably about money.”
“He makes a great living off all his clients, including me.” Rosalyn tilted his head. “He even got his manager’s cut of my world tour money in advance, so I don’t know why that would be a factor.”
“So, let me get this straight. Is Blaine in the Mafia?”
“No.” Rosalyn snorted. “That’s who loaned me the money for the tour I had to pay upfront. Blaine has connections everywhere, but I never assumed like that. He told me the loan was from a bank.”
Cade nodded slowly. “And you had no reason to assume otherwise.”
“Exactly.” A leaf drifted into Rosalyn’s lap, and she picked it up, spun it between her fingers. “After I fell and got hurt, he got weird. Anxious, which is not like him. Said we were on a strict payment plan, and if I didn’t keep up my shows, we’d never make enough to keep current on the loan.”
“Which wouldn’t have been a big deal if the loan had been through a traditional bank.”
“Right. That’s what made him confess where the money was from.” She told Cade about the panic on Blaine’s face, the urgency beneath the surface as he tried to play it off and finally told her the whole story. “I’ve been watching over my shoulder ever since, unsure how big a deal this is. Or if anyone knows where to find me.”
“And you don’t have the money to pay it off, to be free of it?”
“No. I thought I had more money saved than I do, but Blaine handles my business accounts and travel expenses. Last he said, my balance was pretty low.”
Cade frowned. “Blaine handles that?”
“Just the business accounts—he does for several clients. I didn’t have enough cash to fund the whole tour, so I paid part of it from my personal savings and funded the rest.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Apparently, funded it through the Mafia. What kind of low-budget movie is my life right now?”
“Trent did say he could send writers to script us out.” Cade smiled and reached over again, wrapped his arm around her. His side was warm from the sun, and she soaked in the comfort. He smelled like designer cologne and hope. “Don’t worry—we’ll get this figured out. I’ll file those contest forms, and you’ll get unmarried as fast as you were married.”
The birds were chirping again, the sun peeking around a cloud. Rosalyn closed her eyes, laid her head on his shoulder. “You make it sound so easy.”
“We just have to go through the steps.” Cade’s frame stiffened, as if he were suddenly holding his breath. “I still think there’s something shady though. Do you mind letting me snoop further?”
“Go ahead. You’ve already helped this much.” She’d be a fool to turn down Cade’s expertise. If she’d let him help sooner, maybe she could have been legally clear by now.
“I’ll need access to your accounts.”
She paused, nodded. Cade, she could trust. “No problem. I’ll get you everything.”
“Good.” Cade dipped his head to rest his cheek against her hair. His voice rumbled low in her ear. “Now, in the meantime—there’s this mild issue of an entire circus to put on, a town to save, and a week in which to do it.”
She smiled into his shoulder. “I’m prepared to give my best performance yet.”
Starting with pretending she didn’t want to tilt her head up, press her lips against Cade’s cheek, and start a fire sure to burn them both.