35. When the Party’s Over
Chapter 35
When the Party’s Over
Rafe
We lie in Bonnie’s art shed the rest of the afternoon, drawing to music and sharing silence.
Every couple of hours, we check on Lulu. She’s always asleep with the sheets kicked in a different place, an arm occasionally slung over her face to cover her eyes. Around eight o’clock, we find Lulu in the living room instead. We walk in on her hugging the bed comforter close and clicking through a streaming service before landing on some reality show.
Bonnie curls on the couch next to her. I sit on Bonnie’s opposite side with one comforting palm on her thigh as the three of us watch women go shopping, argue with their husbands, and plan parties.
I don’t register what the people on the show say. I don’t know how many hours pass. I just keep stroking Bonnie’s leg and blinking at the bright screen, thinking about the wall of drawings in her studio, every single one containing my hands, jaw, and eyes staring back at me.
She’s had a crush on me for seven years.
Seven. Years.
Since before I even knew she existed. Since she was just the redheaded little Davies girl hanging on Main, peering in the window with a pink blush, running off with scratched-up knees and Band-Aids to chase after her brothers.
That little girl adored me, and her emotions haven’t changed, even now, as an adult woman.
I’ve spent the summer aching to touch her again, not knowing that every touch was another pulse of my heart she’d cherish and another memory of us stamped on her soul.
The worst part is, I’m now just as caught up in her as she was in me. I glance down at the museum ring on my finger. The purchase was just a passing joke for her, but I wasn’t laughing. She thought of me. She picked it out for me . I needed it, this tiny token of her, just like she’d needed pieces of my soul. Just like I’d willingly given them away.
I peer over at Bonnie as the TV light illuminates the smattering of freckles over her arms, as the bluish glow shifts over the borrowed and oversize Howling Ravens shirt. Her delicate fingers hold Lulu’s as she laughs with her best friend. Her legs folded beneath her as my tattooed hand encases her.
I look away, glancing out their floor-to-ceiling windows, hoping to see the ocean but instead catching my reflection in the process. I look mean. Greedy for more of her. Selfish, wanting to keep her. I look like my dad. Greediness runs in our family.
What will Bonnie do at the end of the summer? Will she go back to college? Stay in Never Harbor?
I’ve been preaching that graphic design isn’t a fitting major for her. For a woman so obsessed with me, what is that doing? What effect am I having on her psyche that I don’t know about? Would she abandon college? Would it ultimately be for me?
I should have been her mentor— only her mentor—and nothing more.
No, I shouldn’t have hired her to begin with. She could have had a real internship experience elsewhere. I should have helped her apply to more places, but instead, I ripped the chance from her because I couldn’t stay away.
Peter was right.
I should be ashamed of myself.
I linger on the couch until eleven o’clock, when Bonnie drags me to her bedroom for us to curl up together on her mattress. She strokes fingers over my chest, but I pretend to fall asleep. Eventually, she does as well, exhaling gentle breaths beside me as I finally drift in and out of a restless sleep.
The next morning, I crawl out of bed, slowly letting Bonnie’s head rest back on her pillow. My arm tingles after a long night tucked under her neck, so I shake it out as I make my way to the adjoining bathroom.
I close the door behind me and flick on the light.
Good Lord.
The countertop is stacked full of products, makeup, and various brushes, covering nearly the entire marble surface. A small pile of clothes is crumpled in the corner, next to an overflowing laundry hamper. I bump into an open cabinet and almost trip over an eyeliner pencil rolling on the tiles. I open what I assume is the linen closet, where I find a small pile of messily folded towels.
Bonnie’s life behind closed doors is messy. First her art shed, full of blankets, now this. It’s the chaotic life of a twenty-one-year-old. I should hate it, but I can’t.
It’s funny how she can live like this, yet still respect my cleanliness, always placing her backpack on my coat hanger and taking her shoes off at the door, as if she’s staying a while. She’s considerate. She’s caring.
I take off my clothes, fold them in the sink—the only blank spot available—and step into the enclosed shower. Under the hot water, I use her shampoo to wash my hair. I let it soak on me for longer than normal, cherishing the familiar coconut scent, before washing it out. The hot water sprays down over my chest, beating me until my skin is pink. Until I feel ready to face the day.
I towel off, put my clothes back on since there’s nothing else for me to wear, and make my way back out to her room. I creak open the bathroom door right as I hear a sleepy murmur of, “Rafe?”
Bonnie stretches her arms up, blinking into the small sunbeams filtering through her window blinds.
“Hey,” I whisper, taking a seat on the end of her bed. “I was gonna call Izzy for a ride back to the shop.”
“Why? I’m working today,” she says, wiping her closed eyes. Her hair sticks out in all directions from a ponytail gone rogue in the night. It’s too damn cute. “I’ll drive us.”
“It’s fine. You can take the day off and rest with Lulu.”
Bonnie shakes her head. “She was fine last night. I don’t need the day off.”
I pat her leg under the sheets. “All right. Leave in ten?”
“Sure.” She grins, biting her lower lip. “Want to shower together?”
I chuckle. “Already took one.”
“And you didn’t wake me?”
“It’s fine. You hop in. I’ll be here.”
She rises from the bed and doesn’t wait until she’s past the bathroom threshold before pulling down her underwear and tearing off my Howling Ravens tee, exposing her bare backside with a sly smile over her shoulder.
I shake my head. “Keep walking, Shiv. We’ve gotta get moving.”
“You’re missing out,” she singsongs.
Damn, don’t I know it?
Thirty minutes later, I drive Bonnie’s Jeep to Never Harbor’s public parking lot, and we walk the few blocks down to Ink & Tide. Bonnie grabs my hand once we get close, and my muscles tense.
Are we public now? Practically the whole town was at the baby shower. Would it be so far-fetched if we didn’t hide it? Does that mean we’re in a relationship too?
I loosen my grip on her a few seconds before unlocking the shop door. Bonnie curiously stares at my hand after.
I turn on the radio in the corner of the shop, flip the sign to OPEN , and prop the door to let the breeze in. It’s another perfect summer day in Never Harbor with the sun shining so bright through the windows that little dust motes dance in the air. It’s the type of day where all the shop owners on Main stand outside to gossip between customers and visit each other.
Except not a single local walks into my shop.
Normally, within the first hour of a Monday, Moira drops off her candle of the week, or Jukes gives us a stack of flyers to put on our counters with new meal specials, or, hell, Steve will at least deliver my daily order of flowers, along with his newspaper.
But people are hesitant as they walk by. They cautiously peer at my shop before bustling onward. Eventually, Moira turns the corner with two candles in her palms, but her smile is forced.
“Hi, you two.”
Bonnie beams, as if nothing is wrong. As if there’s nothing to be ashamed of here. But Moira looks past Bonnie’s shoulder with upturned eyebrows toward me. She doesn’t look angry. It’s more akin to disappointment and curiosity.
What did I do to the precious Never Harbor princess in the privacy of this shop? What advantages did I take as her boss?
I nod in acknowledgment. “Hey, Moira.”
“Brought my newest candles,” she says, holding them out.
“Thank you.”
The conversation is awkward. I can’t say I blame her. I leave her and Bonnie to talk among themselves. While Bonnie asks all the good questions about Moira’s process, I look across the street and see William Jukes leaning in front of Jukes’s Jambalaya, craning his head to see inside too. When his eyes catch mine, he doesn’t look embarrassed to have been caught. He waves with a tense jaw. I wave back.
I walk back to the counter, glancing at my phone to distract myself, but the only text I receive is from Leo.
Leo: Our agent is sending out competition emails tomorrow. Just a heads-up. Call me when you get the chance. I’ve got something you and Bonnie should know beforehand.
I furrow my brow and start to ask what that means, but my texting is interrupted by quick, clacking shoes across the shop’s hardwood. I look up just in time to get slapped across the face by Izzy.
The sting is instant. My ears buzz from the impact. I open my jaw to let it pop. Izzy’s face is pure fury. Her irises are a sea of blue around pinprick pupils. One tank top strap slouches off her shoulder. When I flick my eyes up to meet her gaze?—
THWACK!
The second slap is harder. I grit my teeth and close my eyes to focus on anything but the pain and popping lights behind my eyes.
“You had no right,” Izzy snaps. Her words are a whip strike, stinging my pride rather than my cheek this time. “How dare you! How dare you tell Peter that I was crying, and how dare you punch him!”
Bonnie hurries over, immediately tugging back Izzy’s hand, who might be rearing back for a third go at me. “Izzy, what the hell?!”
Moira stays near the door, her eyes widened. By now, Jukes has made it across the street, followed by Jake from the hardware store and Ted from the pharmacy a couple of doors down.
Christ almighty.
I take Bonnie’s elbow, gently holding her back. “Shiv, it’s fine.”
Izzy grits her jaw, eyes stuck on mine, at a loss for words.
I look around at our staring neighbors, but they’re not focused on Izzy. They’re instead laser-focused on my hand cupping Bonnie’s arm.
A boss holding his employee.
I lower my hand.
“Everyone, out,” I demand. “Go on.”
To their credit, they only linger for a second or two.
“Out.”
Izzy shakes her head with her jaw clenched.
“Not you, Iz—” I start to say, but she storms out anyway, shouldering past the crowd, driven like a race car by her anger.
The remaining few glance between me and Bonnie.
I can deal with their upset looks at me. I’ve seen that before from my dad. But what I don’t like is the way they look at Bonnie. Confused. Disappointed.
My heartbeat ratchets into my throat.
Once they all shuffle off, I close the door, flip the sign to CLOSED , and escort Bonnie back to my office.
I’m fine being the big bad wolf, but I won’t let my Little Red be eaten.