30
O nce the kids go home, the celebrations continue along the Riverwalk with live music, food trucks, and fire pits for the adults reliving their childhood dress-up games. There are elaborate Star Wars costumes, a Thor who could be Chris Hemsworth’s body double, mummies, Wonder Women, and zombies. My dress is partly covered by an old stole I found among my grandma’s things, but Leo and I still turn heads in our matching crowns.
We’ve just entered the park when Micki and Donna catch up to us.
“No way” is the first thing Micki says. “You guys coordinated? Look at you.” She spreads her hands as if presenting us.
“It wasn’t intentional. Where’ve you been? I thought you were stopping by the store?”
“I tried once, but it was too crowded, and then we ran into some other friends. You’re not mad?”
I assure her I’m not.
“There’s a beer tent at the end of the walk that has karaoke. You guys should join us,” Donna says.
“Oooh, that would be fun.” I turn to Leo. “I hereby challenge the king to an epic karaoke battle.”
“Seriously, did you know she was going to be Belle?” Micki asks Leo. “Or was this a serendipitous accident?”
“I didn’t know,” he says. “About the costume or the karaoke. My people neglected to pass on that information.”
“But you’ll come?” Micki asks me. “It’ll be fun.”
I glance at Leo. “Maybe in a bit,” I say. “We’re going to grab some food first.”
Micki looks from me to Leo and back, a sly smile pulling at her cheeks. “You do that. See you guys later.” She backs away. “Or not.” She winks at me.
When they’re gone, I nudge Leo’s elbow with mine as we head toward the food trucks. “So, you and me, a sing-off. What’s the bet going to be?”
“Ah, I don’t know.”
In the distance, music spills out of the beer tent—a terrible rendition of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” “Come on. I’m positive you can do better than that.”
He gives me a self-deprecating smile. “Unfortunately, we will never know. This is one bet I’m afraid I’ll have to forfeit.”
I feign shock. “You? Forfeiting?”
“I don’t do singing. Or stages. And especially not singing on stages.”
“Are ya’ scared?” I make a chicken noise.
“Well…”
“Afraid people won’t take you seriously anymore?” Cluck, cluck.
“Ah, ha, ha.” He scratches his tilted head, peering at me. “Sorry. Salingers work hard. We’re not as good at playing.”
He means it. I’m more disappointed by this than I should be, even though a forfeit technically means another won bet for me.
Leo gets us hot cider and elephant ears that we eat on a bench not far from where we first ran into each other.
“I meant to ask, how was lunch? Did you do any training?” I pull off a piece of fried dough and chew carefully, trying to avoid getting powdered sugar all over Leo’s jacket that he loaned me when I got cold. Grandma’s stole is not as warm as I’d thought.
“Ha! Tilly refused. I think she missed Cholula. The food was great as usual, though.” His lips press together briefly. “Bennett stopped by the store earlier—not sure if you saw.”
“I don’t think so. What did he say?”
“ You’re in for it now, Useless ,” he says in a mocking tone. “Wouldn’t let me explain.”
I resist the urge to reach out and touch his arm. “That bites. Um, why does he call you Useless ? He did it last night, too. Seems rude.”
Leo hesitates but then acquiesces, tipping his crown to me. “John Leopold Eustace Salinger the third. Nice to meet you.”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “No way.”
“Laugh all you want. It’s a family name—oldest son gets it. To Bennett’s great joy.”
“And the third… Very regal. Fitting tonight.”
“I think so. Cheers to that.” He clinks his paper mug to mine.
The pieces of him are slowly coming together. Of his background. But there is still so much I don’t know.
“You know, you’ve told me you were in finance before this, but you’ve never actually explained how you ended up back here.”
He takes another sip of his cider and looks off toward a group of laughing teens.
I had to open my mouth. I already know this is a touchy subject for him. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. We can talk about something else. How did Tilly like her cape?”
“No.” He rests the mug against his leg and turns back to me. “I’ll tell you. I don’t mind.” He pauses as if considering where to start. “The first thing you should know is that I grew up knowing exactly what the expectations were for me. If at any point Bennett or I strayed from that path, we felt it. My dad is not a bad person, but he’s very traditional. His word was law.”
“What would he do?”
He must hear the concern in my voice because he hurries to say, “He’s not physically abusive or anything. Let’s just say he’s turned the silent treatment into an art form.” A wry smile. “Anyway, success was always important. Grades, sports, what have you. Good college, impressive job.”
“And you did all that.”
“Without questioning. I mean, I enjoyed the status that came with it, and I didn’t mind the work, at least in the beginning. Investment banking can be exhilarating if you’re good at it, and I was.”
“But?”
“But I was working all the time. My relationships suffered, my health…”
At the mention of relationships, I suppress an urge to cover my ears. He probably had a string of glamorous, uber-intelligent girlfriends. I want to know, and I don’t.
“Last year, I started having weird physical symptoms. I was dizzy, my mind felt foggy, I could never get enough sleep—and I nearly lost a client millions of dollars. It would have been bad. Lawsuit bad. Fortunately, my boss caught the mistake.” He lifts his shoulders high and releases them. “That was it. I quit. I was burned out, my wife left me, and I came out here to rest. Diane’s farm was the first place I thought of when everything fell apart. I have some of my happiest childhood memories there.”
I blink at him, wanting to make sure I heard him right. “Your wife?”
His lips pop open. “Um, right.” He runs a hand across his forehead. “Shit, I didn’t mean to… Yeah, I was married. Her name’s Samantha. But I’m not anymore. We signed the divorce papers not long ago.”
Samantha. The letter. The pieces fall into place. Still, getting it confirmed is a doozy. He had a whole life somewhere else before this. A grown-ass life. And here I am with nothing to show for myself. Is that why he didn’t kiss me?
His fingers brush my hand for the briefest of moments. “What are you thinking?”
“That that’s a lot.”
“I didn’t mean to pile it all on you.”
“No, I mean a lot for you to deal with. A lot of change. Are you doing better now? The physical symptoms are gone? That must have been hard.”
“It was, but Diane and Dawn totally nursed me back to health. I needed space and quiet. Being out there with them and the dogs—it was the smartest decision I ever made.”
Something dawns on me. “So Tilly is your emotional support dog.”
“For all intents and purposes.” He smiles.
“And you don’t regret giving up any of it? Your life before this, I mean.”
He shakes his head. “No. There were perks, of course, but they’re not worth everything else. The sacrifices.”
“And your marriage?”
He puts his arm up on the backrest of the bench so his hand comes to rest near my shoulder. “I won’t lie—that was rough. Samantha and I met at Yale, got married at twenty-five—Martha’s Vineyard, the whole shebang. I meant my vows. She felt differently and moved on.”
He emphasizes the word meant , and that earnestness alone makes me want to reach out for him and rest my hand where his shoulder meets his neck. “And what about now? Do you still—”
His gaze latches on to mine, making the rest of my words catch. It’s as warm and heady as it was last night. “No. Now I’m moving on, too.”
I give the smallest of nods before I shift forward slightly. My lips part in anticipation as his fingers flex near my arm and make contact. I can almost feel his breath against my skin.
But then he stops, a pained expression chasing across his face. “Cora, wait.”
I’ve misread him. In an instant, I am as sure of that as I was of the opposite a moment ago. I scramble back and start bumbling an apology. “I didn’t mean… God, it’s this night, and the dress and… Ha. Why would you want to—”
“No, stop.” Leo gets up from the bench and spins to face me. “I do want to.” He takes off his crown and musses his hair with a hand, leaving it on end.
He does want to… I frown. “Then what is it?”
He sits back down, rolling back his shoulders. “Okay.” He blows out a breath. “Okay fine. I have to tell you something.”
“Clearly.” I try a smile, but he doesn’t reciprocate.
“And please believe me when I say, I didn’t know.”
A shiver runs up my spine. “You’re starting to freak me out. Didn’t know what?”
He extends his hand as if to introduce himself to me for the second time that night. When I take it, he says, “I’m AlCaponesGhost25. It’s nice to officially meet you SingerQueen.”