Chapter 12 Penny
Chapter 12
Penny
Penny collects herself, listening to the sounds and laughter coming from the kitchen. She’s come this far; there’s no turning back. If the tequila was meant to stave off buried feelings, it had the opposite effect. Leo is front and center in every thought, in every cell in her body. She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass doors—the long blond hair she just spent a fortune getting cut and colored, the jeans that flatter her generous ass, and the white cotton button-down that provides the right amount of cleavage.
When her mind latches on to Leo, time stops, skipping back to the past. They were once teenagers frolicking on the beach, nothing more pressing than his lips against her mouth, his fingers trailing up her blouse and skirt. Everything between them had been intense. A look across a crowded room meant, I want you. Now. His hand across her back said, You’re mine . He had ruined her for any other man.
And then a sunny Saturday last August ripped them apart.
When they first met over the frog dissection, after Leo had resolved his skittishness, he grabbed his own scalpel and nudged apart the layers of thick skin. They had worked side by side, their hands brushing, and the chill that slithered down her back became the start of a long line of sensations. He stared at her with his peculiar eyes until she turned away. He told her that day she’d never see the world the same.
Leo walked her home after school, and without pretense, he reached for her hand. The gentle squeeze whispered, Do you feel that? And she let his hand curl around hers, memorizing his smooth fingers. Like the scalpel, he peeled her open until he was deep inside.
It was no surprise to any of them that Leo Shay became a famous actor. Everything about him was bright and shiny. Long before he was spoon-fed the perfect line or taught to perfect the piercing gaze or the flirtatious smile, Leo had that magnetic quality that set him apart. And for a time, Penny was enough. They were enough. But then that fateful summer day, followed by Claire a few months later. And before the director paused production on Leo’s most recent film, they were fractured in two.
She peers inside to see if Leo has arrived, but she can’t get a good look. They made the foolish promise that they’d spend their silver anniversary at Vis Ta Vie, but neither of them could have predicted that they’d be on the cusp of divorce. Yet here they are. Another Hollywood failure. She should turn around and leave, but she promised Renée and Jean-Paul this week—and Leo. Even the kids were in on it; Cody had circled the date on her calendar in bright red. Penny didn’t want to let them down, not more than she already had.
She searches inside her bag for a cigarette. It’s her emergency cigarette, the one she’s been saving for moments like this. Inhaling, she decides she won’t let Leo under her skin. Exhaling, she won’t let the hovering memories cloud her better judgment. She’ll remember the disappointment. And if she can’t manage all that, she’ll keep her legs crossed exceptionally tight.
She hears the car before she sees it. A cherry-red convertible Mustang with its top down. As it approaches, the sunlight glares on the man behind the wheel, hair mussed from the wind.
Leo.
She studies his profile as he comes to a complete stop. He’s late too. Damn. He looks good.
Penny drops what’s left of the cigarette onto the rocks, crushing it under her sneaker. She reminds herself to stop looking, stop obsessing over the hair that hasn’t lost its luster, or the smattering of gray that makes him stupid sexy. As he puts the car in park and turns off the engine, she waits for him to spot her, to feel the physical pull.
Leo turns, and their eyes meet with a tingly ripple. Even when he confused her, she loved him. She nears the driver’s side, where he sits, and she takes him in.
“I swear this wasn’t intentional.”
“Bullshit,” she says. He knows what a red Mustang symbolizes. The virginity she lost in its back seat. “I’m going out on a limb here by saying this isn’t the same car.”
They appraise each other. Stop falling into those eyes.
“I swear, Pen. I had nothing to do with the car. Lily ordered it.”
Penny steps back.
“My assistant. And, no, I’m not sleeping with her.”
And because she doesn’t know if entering the inn will be a colossal mistake, she steps around to the passenger side and sits beside him. The long-ago memory rests between them, and Leo reads her as he always does. “I promise I won’t try for a home run, Penny. Maybe I’ll try to get to first base, but not all the way.”
She has always enjoyed Leo’s humor, but today she’s conflicted, and she crosses her arms and stares out the window. Taylor Swift’s singing about a cardigan, and Leo continues, “Whatever’s going on in that head of yours ... it’s good to see you, Pen.”
Her fingers reach for her blouse. One of the buttons keeps coming loose, and she could swear it’s from his words. They’re brushing beneath the fabric, touching her skin. Oh, Leo, she thinks. Look at you going “all Leo” on me. He has no idea of his boyish charm. How he reels her in, back to the sensations of those early years. Starting with the day he walked her home from school after the frog dissection, when he pressed her against the tree in her front yard. His inhibitions gone. Their faces were practically touching, her heart slapping hard against her chest. She waited for his kiss, but he ever-so-slowly traced her cherry lips with his finger. He told her he was memorizing them. When his mouth found hers, the kiss was an explosion. After that, they were as tangled as the massive tree’s roots. Gone was the boy who cringed at the dead frog. When he told her he was going to Hollywood, not the city north of Miami but the one across the country, and how he was going to be a star, she believed him.
“Sixteen years,” she says. “That’s how long since we’ve been back here.”
“That long? I’m sorry, Pen.”
She’s not sure what he’s sorry for. Which part. She trains her eyes on the trees and the pond off in the distance while slowly crumbling. She didn’t expect to feel this much so quickly. She would have to protect herself from his shine.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he says.
She wasn’t sure he’d show up.
“We have a week. You can’t ignore me the whole time.”
“I can try,” she says.
He fiddles with the radio as his scent fans her face. Fuck if she’ll let him break her. The perfect profile, the David Beckham scruff. She pinches herself, Taylor disappears, and in walks Morgan Wallen. She knows the song. Everyone knows the song. She can feel Leo’s eyes boring into her cheeks, Morgan telling this woman that their relationship isn’t over.
Six minutes, and Leo’s already gotten under her skin. She feels herself weakening. She should call an Uber. The airlines. Hell, she could start walking toward the highway and throw a thumb out to the wind. Anything to get out of here. Too much has been lost, too much broken. And Leo is a cheat. Leo is a liar.
“This was a stupid decision,” she says, but he’s quick out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the back seat, making his way toward her luggage. Before she has a chance to argue, he’s carrying their bags through the glass doors, and she has no choice but to follow.