Chapter 12
I just stared for a second at the empty spot on the bed. I knew I’d taken a long shower, but it hadn’t been that long. What could have happened to my clothes?
I gave Tidbit a look, but he just rolled over onto his side. He couldn’t have eaten them, could he? But maybe he’d hidden them somewhere? This was a dog that was capable of opening doors, after all. And he was the size of a small subcompact. I felt like I shouldn’t rule anything out.
“Tidbit?” I ventured. He raised his head slightly. “Did you…” The giant dog just looked at me, implacable, then set his head back down with a sigh. “Okay, never mind. As you were.”
I checked the other bedroom, but the clothes weren’t there, either. Walking down the hallway to the kitchen, I told myself there had to be some explanation. And as I looked around, I spotted a note, written in a curly, loopy hand, propped up against the snack basket. I hurried over to it and picked it up.
Hi Darcy!!
So Bella got your things from the driveway but everything was kind of all dusty so we’re washing your stuff! Left you something to wear on the couch. Fishbowl at 11:30, don’t be late!
xx
Chloe
I looked down at the note, wondering why I was even surprised. Every time I’d set something down at this house, it had been whisked away by someone.
I leaned over the couch and saw, neatly folded, a pair of sweatpants and a cashmere sweater. The sweatpants looked new—WYLIE FOR THE WYNN was written down the right leg—this was his Vegas residency, the one my dad had been so opposed to seeing. The cashmere sweater, though, I had a feeling was Chloe’s. I picked it up carefully. It was a light camel color, and maybe the softest thing I’d ever felt.
Washing my clothes was a really nice gesture—as was leaving me these—but I couldn’t help wishing they’d just dropped my stuff off and left me alone. Because now it felt like a ball had just been tossed into my court.
I traced my finger over the word Fishbowl. Somehow, knowing there was a time attached made this all so much harder to ignore. And made it impossible to just keep hiding out here, like I’d planned on.
Would Russell think it was weirder if I was staying in my guesthouse all night, refusing to come out? Or if I was playing some sort of game with his family members? And would it be too strange for him to see me back there again, with his family? After he’d already had what I was assuming was a hard talk with his dad?
You might not even see him, Didi pointed out, ever logical. He might have gone to bed. It’s late.
It was late—and yet, I was wide-awake. And hungry. The chips had only seemed to make me hungrier—the tacos that Russell and I had eaten on the football field felt like a whole other lifetime ago. And I had blown my hair out…
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the clothes from the couch and then hurried into the bathroom to change.
I had assumed that Tidbit would stay where he was—he had barely moved at all since I’d been in the guesthouse—but as soon as I opened the door, I heard the sound of paws hitting the floor, and then the dog came walking down the hallway, his head level with the bottom of the picture frames. “Oh,” I said, blinking at him. I honestly wasn’t sure I would ever get used to being around a dog this big. “Are you coming too?”
He leaned his head against me, and as I gave him a tentative scratch on the forehead, he closed his eyes, like he liked it. When I stopped he just opened his eyes and looked at me, and I laughed and scratched behind his ears this time. “Okay,” I said as I headed over to the door. “Shall we?” Now that he’d decided to come, I was actually pretty glad—because while Chloe had been clear that he could open doors, she hadn’t said anything about his ability to close them.
We crossed the lawn to the house together, the giant dog padding next to me like an honor guard. I stepped in through the glass door, and Tidbit shook himself, a full-body shake, then headed in the direction of his water bowl in the kitchen. I pulled the door shut behind me, since the last thing I wanted was for Andy to get out and for it to be all my fault, then looked around.
There was no longer the full crowd that had been here when Chloe and I had breezed through. There was just Montana, sitting on top of one of the kitchen islands with a glass of wine, bent over her phone, and Connor, Sydney, and Wallace all sprawled on the couch. The TV was now showing some kind of medieval-set video game that Sydney and Wallace were playing while Connor read a book. I was relieved that there weren’t quite so many people here now—and that the three-year-old had, hopefully, gone back to bed.
But most important—neither Russell or Wylie was anywhere to be seen.
“No! No! No! No! You absolute bellend!” Wallace yelled as he tossed his controller onto the giant ottoman coffee table.
“Don’t swear at my wife,” Connor said vaguely, turning a page in his book.
“I’m fine,” Sydney said, grinning. “I’m better than fine, because I just destroyed Wallace’s grain holdings and his dwarf fled his shire.”
Connor looked up and frowned. “Explain this game to me again?”
“And it doesn’t count if it’s British swearing,” Wallace explained, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Everyone knows that. I feel like your wife is taking advantage of my distracted state.”
“Alyssa will call when she’s free, Wallace,” Sydney said.
He sighed, then nodded at the television. “Go again?”
“Darcy!” Montana looked up from her phone and smiled at me. “You’re here. Oh, yay. Are you playing Fishbowl?”
“We’re never going to play Fishbowl,” Wallace grumbled from the couch. “I’ve given up even hoping. It’s like Waiting for Fishbowl over here. We’ve had the game set up for literal hours, but noooo, we had to stop and eat pasta first.…”
“Do you want any?” Montana asked me as she pushed herself off the island. She headed toward what I thought was a cabinet until she pulled it open and I realized it was actually a refrigerator—just in disguise for some reason.
“Sure,” I said, feeling my stomach rumble again. “That would be great.”
“Priya will be so happy,” Montana said as she pulled a glass container out of the fridge. “She hates when there’s leftovers; she always sees it as an indictment of her cooking, even when she’s made enough to feed an army.” She pulled down a bowl, then looked back toward the couch. “Anyone else still hungry?”
“I’m good,” Sydney said as she picked up her controller—apparently she and Wallace were going to play another round. “Hey, Darcy. Get settled okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing back toward the guesthouse. “Everything is really amazing. It’s so nice of you guys to let me stay. And Chloe, um… gave me her clothes?”
Montana laughed. “She does that.”
“I think it’s just a loan, though, until mine get clean.”
“Want to play?” Sydney asked, holding up her controller. “I could use some real competition.”
“Hey,” Wallace said, sounding wounded.
“I’m okay,” I called to her. “But thanks.” I looked over at Montana, who was bustling around the kitchen. “Can I do anything to help?”
“Just relax,” she said, pulling out a container of parmesan and sprinkling some of it over the pasta. “Tell me about yourself!”
“Oh.” My mind was suddenly a blank. Why was it whenever anyone asked you something like that, you couldn’t think of anything? Like when someone wanted to know your top five movies, you suddenly couldn’t remember any movie you’d ever seen. Or when you were asked to name a celebrity and all you could come up with was Steve Guttenberg. “Um…”
Montana put the bowl of pasta in what was apparently a microwave—it looked like another cabinet. Why was everything in this kitchen pretending it was just a cabinet? “Where are you from?”
“Los Angeles.”
“So you know Russell from school?” She took a sip of her wine.
“No, we um… met in a bus station?”
Montana’s eyes got wide. “Oh?”
A moment later, I heard how that sounded. “I was at Silverspun too,” I added hurriedly so she wouldn’t think some weird Nevada drifter had wandered into their home. “And then after the festival, we were both stranded. At least I was. I… um…”
“Oh, when he disappeared,” Montana said, nodding. “He went to a bus station? So weird.”
“Russell went to a bus station?” Connor asked, wandering up to us, carrying his book and a wineglass. “That’s a choice.” He reached for the bottle of white that was on the other island and poured himself a refill. I glanced at the book he’d set down—The Last Holdfast by C. B. McCallister. It was a thick hardcover that looked like a fantasy novel.
“No,” I said quickly. “We were both on the bus from the festival to LA, but then it broke down, so we were stuck at the station. And we ended up walking around and talking.… We were only in the bus station by accident.”
“Gotcha,” Connor said as the microwaved beeped. He wandered away with his novel and his wine, and Montana set the bowl down on the island. She pulled up one of the stools, then gestured for me to do the same, placing a fork and a striped linen napkin in front of me.
“Thank you so much,” I said, sitting on the stool and picking up my fork. I took a bite, then another. Whatever modifications the sauce had undergone were worth it—the spiciness had been tamped down, and it was really good.
“That’s so cool,” Montana said with a sigh as she picked up her glass. “The two of you, in the middle of nowhere by happenstance, meeting like that… it’s like something out of a movie!”
I nodded as I concentrated on my pasta, keeping my face averted. Just because my romantic delusion bubble had been popped tonight didn’t mean I had to wreck Montana’s.
“I mean, it just seems… really romantic.” Then she looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Or not?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her expression, so nakedly interested. “I mean,” I said, turning my fork between my fingers. I was very aware I was saying this to Russell’s sister. “Russell is really great, but…”
“Not interested,” Montana finished with a knowing nod. “I get it. Is it the hair? I keep telling him to cut it. I don’t want him to make Wallace’s mistakes.”
“Wait, what?” Wallace called, not looking away from the game, where a very violent battle seemed to be taking place in front of a rain-swept castle. “I have a girlfriend, I’ll have you know.”
“She lives in Hawaii,” Montana pointed out.
“She’s still my girlfriend!”
“No,” I said quickly, lowering my voice so that hopefully this would just be between me and Montana. I was suddenly seeing a downfall to open-plan houses. “I mean… we were, um… we did… I liked him.”
“Liked, past tense?” Montana asked as she took a sip of her wine, her eyes above the glass not leaving mine.
“Well…” I looked down into my pasta bowl and took a breath. “He told me that he had a different last name. And he didn’t tell me about his dad, or any of you. It wasn’t until he had to call for help that I found out he’d been lying to me all night.”
Montana set down her wineglass and raked a hand through her dark hair. “Yikes. Yeah, that’s not good.”
“What’s not good?” Connor called.
“Lying about being Wylie Sanders’s kid,” Montana called to Connor.
Wallace paused the game and turned around to face the kitchen. “Oh, come on,” he said, shaking his head at Montana. “Don’t pretend you’ve never done it.” Montana shrugged, but I could see that her cheeks had reddened. “But I do get it,” Wallace continued, adjusting his glasses. “It can be a lot when you first meet someone. I mean, for you guys. Even with my last name, nobody assumes I’m Wylie’s son, because racism.” The game un-paused, and there was a squelching sound as Sydney’s avatar swung her sword and Wallace’s avatar fell to the ground, sans head. Wallace picked up his controller again with a sigh.
“I’m sure Russell didn’t mean to trick you or anything,” Montana said. “It can just be… a whole thing. Not that I’m condoning what he did!” she said quickly. “Just that I can understand the impulse, especially after what happened with Olivia.”
What happened with Olivia?Didi asked sharply.
What happened with Olivia?!Katy echoed.
“Oh, um, right,” I said, my mind spinning. Because Russell had never talked about an Olivia. Was this an ex? What had happened? Was this the thing C.J. had mentioned to Russell? I took a breath, trying to summon the courage to ask, just as Montana reached down and scooped up Andy, resting him on her lap. He immediately started licking her chin.
“So are you Russell’s same age? Or in college already?”
I nodded, spearing another bite of pasta. “I’m about to start my freshman year. Stanwich College.”
“Really?” Montana grinned at me and jostled the dog joyfully. “I love that school!”
All at once, I remembered Russell talking about his friend Montana, who knew about it. “How do you know it?”
“I was dating a professor there for a while when I was getting my master’s in New Haven.”
“You can say Yale,” Connor said, looking over as he rolled his eyes.
“Oh, shut up,” Montana laughed, and then turned to me. “That campus is just stunning, and it’s right outside the city. And they have that great fall festival.…”
“They do?” In protest of going there, I had done almost no research into Stanwich, which was now seeming incredibly stupid.
“It’s the best.” She sighed happily as she scratched the dog under his chin. “God, I loved undergrad. I’d give anything to go back. Freshman year, everyone getting to know each other, hooking up in the dorms, people thinking they’re actually going to continue with a philosophy major…”
“Which undergrad?” Wallace called, and Montana made a face at him.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My brother is referring to the fact that I bounced around a little. I transferred after my freshman year. And then I took a year off to do Habitat for Humanity. And then I studied abroad, and liked it so much I stayed another year—”
“Also known as, fell in love with a girl in her program,” Connor said, turning a page in his book.
“And then I did my last year remotely because I got a great internship.” She shrugged, and I nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed. Montana gave me a smile, then leaned forward, like she was about to tell me a secret. “Everyone expects you to do four years in the same place, but who wants to stick to a script? Things are much more interesting when you color outside the lines. And who’s to say you need college at all? My dad never went, and he’s doing okay.”
I nodded, like I was taking this seriously. “So I’ll put rock star down as my backup plan. Sounds good.”
Montana laughed and I finished up my bowl of pasta. Somehow, as obvious as it was, this had never occurred to me. It was like I’d been on this path that had only pointed in one direction, trapped into going to Stanwich because I had no other options. But it suddenly felt like a window had just been opened, letting me see a view outside, one that had been there the whole time but I’d never bothered to look at. Because Stanwich didn’t have to be the end of the story—if I hated it, and I kept my grades up, maybe I could transfer somewhere with a scholarship. Or study abroad. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck there for four years after all.
Or maybe you’ll love it, Katy pointed out hopefully. You don’t know yet. Don’t just decide.
“All done?” Montana asked, looking down at my bowl.
I nodded. “It was so good. Thank you so much.”
She smiled. “I’ll have to tell Priya. She’ll be so happy.”
“While you’re at it, tell her that we’re finally playing Fishbowl,” Wallace said, setting down his controller with a flourish.
“Is it because you lost again?” Connor asked.
“It’s not not that,” Wallace said. “But seriously. We worked so hard to set up this game and now we’re not even going to play it? Unacceptable!”
Sydney shrugged. “Okay.”
Wallace pointed to her. “Sydney’s in!”
“I’ll go get Priya,” Montana said. She grabbed my bowl from the table and dropped it in the farmhouse sink on her way over to the doors that led to the pool. “Darcy, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” I said immediately.
“Great. Could you just walk to the top of the stairs and yell ‘Fishbowl’? Just to let people know the game is starting.” She pointed toward the foyer, where I could now see there was a hallway and a staircase.
“Um.” I glanced at the large wooden clock above the stove. It was really late. Did rock stars—and their families—just have a different internal clock? “Will I… wake people up?”
She waved this away, already opening the door. “All the adults are still up. And the kids will sleep through it. Thanks!”
She dashed across the lawn and I headed toward the stairs, wondering why I had to yell. Wasn’t this why we all had phones?
I was halfway up the stairs, rounding the corner onto the second floor, when I nearly bumped into someone coming down—Russell.
“Oh,” he said, stopping short and taking a step back.
“Sorry,” I said automatically. I blinked at him. Just as I’d taken a shower and changed, it seemed like Russell had done the same. The jeans and T-shirt I’d seen on him all night were gone, replaced with a pair of khaki shorts and a light blue, soft-looking button-down. His hair looked wet and freshly combed, and we were standing close enough that I could tell he smelled like cedar and something else… like the woods after rain.
“I didn’t—I thought that you left?”
“I did!” I said quickly. I didn’t want him to think we’d had that awkward goodbye for nothing. “I absolutely left. But when I was halfway down the driveway, I saw Andy—he’d gotten out again. And then when I brought him back to the house, Chloe told me that there weren’t any more buses to LA tonight and that I should stay here. So… I am.” He was looking at the ground, and I wished I could see his face—to try to understand how he was feeling about this. “Is that… okay?”
“Of course! I said that you could stay, remember? I told you we had the guesthouses.”
“I know,” I said, then crossed my arms over my chest. “And—thank you. I just didn’t want this to be… weird.”
Russell looked down at what I was wearing, and then back up at me. “Nice pants.”
“Oh,” I said, glancing at the writing down my right leg. “Yeah. Chloe kind of… stole my clothes? She’s washing them, I guess, so she gave me these.”
“She does that. I came to visit one time, and she’d replaced all my clothes with a ‘new direction’ she wanted me to try. Consider yourself lucky you just ended up with sweatpants.”
“What did she get you?”
“Leather pants,” he said, his voice grim. “Like… so many. And I never wore them. Think of the cows!”
I could feel myself on the verge of laughter, a beat from tipping over into it. Just like that, I was remembering how easy it had been with him all night, up until the very end. How simple it had seemed for a while.
“So,” Russell said. He looked up the staircase. “Were you…”
“Right,” I said, remembering I’d been sent here on a mission. “Montana wanted me to go upstairs and yell that Fishbowl is starting.”
“Finally!”
“Yeah. But I didn’t want to wake people up. She said it would be okay, but…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Russell crossed in front of me and bounded up the stairs in what seemed like two steps. “Hey! Fishbowl is starting!” he yelled, then walked back down again.
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and a second later, there was Chloe, now in a pair of very fluffy-looking slippers. “Hey, Darcy!” she said as she breezed by, not stopping. “The sweater looks great on you.”
She continued down, leaving Russell and me alone. We were standing closer than I’d realized—this landing was not particularly large to begin with, and probably not designed for people to just hang around on it, not going up or down, just stuck between two directions.
And in addition to that, I felt like I was stuck between the two versions of him—the Russell Henrion he’d pretended to be, and the Russell Sanders he actually was, who I didn’t really know at all. I took a breath to say something—I wasn’t sure what yet—when he took a step away from me and gestured to the stairs going down. “After you,” he said, his tone polite.
“Thanks.”
We walked down the stairs, me leading the way, not speaking—but with our feet falling at the same time.
“Fishbowl!” Wallace stood in front of the couches, looking happier than I’d yet seen him, in my brief experience. “Are you ready to play the best game of all time?”
“It’s good you’re not building it up,” Priya said, giving him a thumbs-up. “Nice expectation-setting.”
We were all on the couches to play this game that had still not adequately been explained to me, beyond putting celebrities’ names in a bowl. Wylie, Kenya, and Paula had passed, so it was just (just?) me, Russell, Chloe, Doug, Montana, Priya, Wallace, Connor, and Sydney who were playing.
Wallace shook a giant ceramic bowl that had Sanders Family Movie Night stenciled on the side and looked at us expectantly. “Are we ready?”
“Guys?”
I looked over to see Wylie standing in the hallway.
He was wearing blue striped pajama pants and a sweatshirt that read Harvard-Westlake. But before I could even process that I was seeing Wylie Sanders in his pajamas, I noticed the expression on his face.
“What’s up?” Wallace asked, lowering the bowl.
Wylie looked around the room, then back at us, his brows drawn together. “Has anyone seen Andy?”