Chapter 19
INDIA
It has been a day.
I went on an unplanned run, I ate carrot cake, and I decidedly did not kill anyone.
Also…I sobbed my eyes out in front of Felix. So.
That feels good.
I didn’t plan to. It just…happened. I was trying not to think about anything at all. I was trying not to let myself spiral, because I am not a spiraler.
But…there was this knot of tears in the back of my throat that never left after I worried I might have killed Luca Slater. And that knot just got bigger and bigger, even as I kept trying to push it away. And the bigger that knot got, the more I kept thinking about the crash, too—which is stupid, because it’s over—and I was holding it together until Felix went and did something sweet and gave me a carrot cake.
I think I might avoid him for the rest of my life.
And I think Luca Slater might avoid anyone named Marigold for the rest of his life, too. I feel sort of bad. But it really did look like he was reaching for a knife.
“Nah” was all Felix said when I mentioned how guilty I still felt. “You did good, Sunshine. Knocked him clean out. I’m proud of you.”
But later that night, as I lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, all I can think about is the way that giant man crumpled, and little rivulets of fear trickle down my spine. When I hear a sniffle from Juliet’s side of the room, I know I’m not the only one still a bit shaken up.
“Jules,” I whisper into the dark.
Her response is more of a noise than any words—a little meep sound, like she’s trying not to cry.
I sigh and scoot over in my bed. “Come here.”
There’s only a second’s pause before I hear her get out of bed and scurry over to mine, climbing in next to me like it’s second nature.
And it is. Leaning on each other—it’s something we’ve always done. We’ve been curling up under the covers together since we were old enough to know what a sister was. So I wrap my arm around Juliet, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo and Irish Spring soap. She relaxes immediately, and so do I. One of us will probably be halfway off the bed by the time morning rolls around, but for now, we fall asleep in no time.
I dream about Felix Caine and carrot cake.
One place you never want to be is between Aurora and the front door when she’s running late for work.
Aurora is almost never late. Ever. She was born on her due date and has been arriving on time ever since. But on the rare occasion she is behind…
I shuffle out of the line of fire as she bulldozes her way around the kitchen, half an untoasted bagel hanging out of her mouth, her silky blouse tucked neatly into her pencil skirt.
“Your black pumps are on the shoe rack,” I tell her, and from the table, Juliet pipes up too.
“Aren’t you going to be really late?”
I shoot a disapproving frown at Jules while Aurora snaps something unintelligible from behind her mouth full of bagel.
“Just go,” I say, waving her away from the kitchen counter where she’s shoving her lunch into a bag for later. “Get something on your lunch break. I’ll put this stuff away and you can take it tomorrow.”
She nods in my direction and says something else I don’t understand, which I take to be a hurried Thank you. I wave it away, and off she goes.
Five minutes later, the front door slams shut, and I collapse in the chair opposite Jules at the kitchen table.
“Freight Train Aurora has left the station,” Juliet says.
I nod tiredly. “Freight Train India needs to get ready to leave too.”
“Freight Train Juliet doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Jules says in a sad little voice.
I hesitate for a second and then broach the topic we’ve all been tiptoeing around. “Have you thought about what you’ll do if you can’t find something dance-related?”
Juliet sighs and leans back in her chair, picking aimlessly at the half-eaten English muffin on her plate. “Yeah,” she says, and she sounds nothing short of miserable now. “The problem is that I don’t know how to do anything.” She looks at me, her blue eyes full of worry. “I have no employable skills, Indy.”
This is not completely true, but it’s not completely false, either. Juliet is smart. But she never cared much for school, and in general, she hasn’t focused much on traditional skills.
She learns quickly. She has great interpersonal skills and higher-than-average emotional intelligence. But I don’t know where those abilities will translate well.
“Neither did I,” I finally say, because it’s the only comfort I can come up with on the spot. “But look at me now.”
Juliet’s lips twitch despite her clear concern. “Dog washer extraordinaire,” she says.
I hold up one finger. “That’s head dog washer extraordinaire, thank you very much.” My smile comes easily, because even though she’s teasing, we both know how much I love my job. “My point is that you can find something. And if worse comes to worst…” I shrug. “I’ll teach you how to be a dog groomer.”
“Boo,” Juliet says with a frown, waving this suggestion away. “Please let’s talk about something else.”
With a glance at the clock, I stand up and push my chair back under the table. “I need to go shower,” I say.
Jules sits up straighter. “Wait!” she says. “You still haven’t told me what happened with Felix yesterday.”
“Nothing happened,” I say evasively. “We just—hung out.”
Her breakfast officially forgotten, Juliet hurries out of her chair and follows me out of the kitchen. “Nuh-uh,” she says. “He practically dragged you out of there, Indy. You did not just hang out. ”
“We did,” I say, but a stupid little smile is trying to cross my lips. I take the stairs two at a time and don’t look at Juliet as I go on, “We went to the rec center for a run and then we got carrot cake and ate it. That’s all.”
“You like him,” Juliet says, her voice triumphant.
It’s this, finally, that gets me to stop moving. “I don’t—” I begin, but she grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around.
“Yes, you do,” she says, jabbing one finger at me and narrowing her eyes with far too much insight. “You like Felix. Admit it.”
“I don’t—it’s not—” I break off, sighing as I slump against the bathroom door frame. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe? Kind of? I don’t know.”
Because my brain says no way whenever I ask myself this question. Of course I don’t like Felix. Not romantically. Been there, done that, have the string of poor decisions to prove it.
But my heart…my heart just blushes and hides its face when asked that same question. My stupid, traitorous heart doesn’t care how dumb it would be to fall for Felix again.
SO DUMB, I scream at myself. It would be SO DUMB.
And yet I can’t deny how much better I feel this morning. I feel better than I have in days—maybe even weeks. I needed that cry yesterday. I needed to lose it for a bit and get all those feelings out. And Felix could tell. He just let me bawl, patted my back, and fed me carrot cake.
It was the perfect way to handle the situation, I have to admit.
“You liked him before,” Juliet says now, and she leans against the wall next to me. “Is it different this time?”
“Yes? Kind of? I think?” I pause. “Maybe?”
Juliet sighs. “Having these conversations with you is so painful,” she says, looking at me with a mixture of pity and amusement. “You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s not much better inside my head,” I mutter. “It’s just?—”
I can’t quite find the words I’m looking for, but when Juliet just raises her eyebrows at me, I try again.
“He’s cool,” I say finally. “Like actually really cool. He makes me laugh. And I thought he was a player or whatever, but…” I shake my head, thinking about everything Felix has said—and the things he hasn’t. “That’s not quite right.”
Because is he a ladies’ man? Yes. But there’s nothing slimy about him, nothing gross or malicious. He’s not a guy trying to sleep with as many girls as possible, and he’s not a guy who thrives on the chase but then carelessly tosses people aside.
For better or for worse, Felix Caine is completely lovable and completely loving. Everyone likes him, and for the most part, he likes everyone. That’s it.
I’m just worried that I might be one of those everyones who likes him a little too much. I’m supposed to be a Darcy girl. Dark and handsome and stoic, that’s my type. There’s no place in my life for this giant ball of sunshine with golden hair and sparkling eyes and an easy, flirtatious smile.
Nope. No way. Not even if he feeds me all the carrot cake in the world. Which, judging by the way he kept shoveling bites into my mouth, he might very well try to do.
“Well, next time you see him, figure out how you feel,” Juliet says.
“I think it might be better if I let everything stay murky on that front,” I say. “I don’t want to like Felix. And if I do like him…”
“You want to live in denial?” Juliet arches one perfect brow at me with an uncharacteristic amount of sass. “You can do better than that, Indy. You could totally win Felix’s heart if you wanted to.”
“No, I couldn’t, and I don’t want to anyway,” I say. “Now please let me shower, or I’m going to smell worse than the dogs who come in today.”
“Fine,” Juliet grumbles, slouching out of the way and down the hall. “But I’m calling it,” she adds over her shoulder. “You like him. You want to kiss him and hug him and have babies with perfect strawberry blonde hair and immaculate skin?—”
“Juliet!” I squawk. She narrowly dodges the tube of toothpaste I chuck at her, giggling and bolting the rest of the way to our room.
Ridiculous. I don’t want to hug him or kiss him?—
Well, I think as that moment in the bookstore comes back to me—Felix’s raspy voice, his wide eyes, the burst of heat that shot through me when he admitted he checked me out sometimes— I guess I might like to kiss him. Maybe just once, to see what it’s like.
But I will take that desire to my grave. And in the meantime, I’m going to hunt down a man I’ll really like, or maybe even love. I’m going to find myself a Darcy.
There aren’t a lot of eligible bachelors roaming around Lucky, Colorado. It’s a small town, and most of the people here are people I’ve known forever. So while I’m tempted to make a list of places I might meet a guy, ultimately I decide to go the virtual route instead.
There’s something reassuring about the safety of a screen, a layer around myself that I only need to peel back if I really want to. I’m not a nervous person by nature, and I can have conversations when the situation calls for it, but when it comes to men and dating, I’m rusty.
But what would I even say on a dating site? You have to create a profile, right? I guess there’s probably a questionnaire.
How many men are going to be interested in a dog groomer from a tiny town?
A little kernel of unease tries to pop in the pit of my stomach, calling to mind all the usual concerns that arise from online dating. Weirdos sending unsolicited photos, people pretending to be someone they’re not, the inevitable barrier of location differences.
I can wade through those things, can’t I?
That kernel of unease multiplies, but I shut it down.
Do you want to date? I ask myself. Do you want to find a man and settle down and have a family?
Yes. The answer is unequivocally yes.
I’m afraid…I’ve been clinging to my list as a way to feel better about what happened with Betsy. Like maybe if I did all these things, something good would come out of that moment where I really thought I was going to die.
But I’m not sure it works like that. One thing I do know, however, is that I really, truly want to fall in love and have a family of my own.
I nod to myself as I hurry through my shower. Some good things in life will find you, but some things you have to search for yourself. I’m going to have to put in the leg work on this one, which means putting myself out there and meeting new people.
You might meet someone like Felix, my brain whispers.
“Darcy!” I say out loud. “Meet someone like Darcy!”
Sure, my brain says. Darcy. Or…Felix.
And it’s this thought that stays with me for the rest of the day—all the way through the sudsy bath I give a happy chocolate Labrador, through the trim I give a finicky little Terrier.
Someone like Felix. Is that what I really want?
I groan as my stomach gives a little flip—a pleasant, happy squirm laced with anticipation. Ella, my coworker, looks over at me.
“What’s wrong?” she says, her expression concerned. “Are you sick?”
“No,” I say with a sigh as my heart sinks. “I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced, and I don’t blame her. I can’t manage to put on a pleasant expression. Because I think…
Dang it. I think Juliet might be right.
I think I like Felix. Even though he’s not my usual type, even though he’s my brother’s best friend. Even though he admitted himself that he doesn’t want to fall in love.
It’s just—he’s so easy to be around. In a hectic, crazy world, he’s restful. When I’m with him, I can laugh or sit in silence or cry, and he never seems to judge me. He teases good-naturedly, but he never makes fun. He’s totally accepting, no matter what version of me he gets.
“You look like you’re about to burst into tears,” Ella says, still looking at me, brows furrowed in worry. “Do you need a second? I can finish up here,” she says, gesturing to the gentle hound dog we’re bathing. Sometimes a bath is a two-person job, but this one really isn’t—he’s a tired old pup, gray and white peppering his fur.
“I’m not going to burst into tears,” I say. I already did that yesterday. “No, I just realized my sister was right about something when I hoped she was wrong.”
“Ooh,” Ella says with a wince. “Bummer.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice flat. “ Big bummer.”
Maybe I’ll put the dating site on hold. Not permanently—just while I figure out how I feel. I don’t need to sign up right this very second, anyway. And what difference does it make, if I register today versus tomorrow?
Some of that discomfort in the pit of my stomach eases. And by the time I take my break, I’m feeling mostly better.
So what if I do like Felix, anyway? I’m not in love with him. If I did like him, it would be a little crush that would pass. So when my phone rings and I see his name on the caller ID, I answer normally. I need to get out of my head, anyway. It’s not like me to ruminate so obsessively.
“Felicia,” I say.
“Sunshine,” he answers, and I swear I can hear his smile. “How’re you doing today?”
I pause before answering. Because the truth is, I think I probably need to go on another run, just to clear my mind. But since I know he’s referring to the kitchen incident yesterday, I just say, “I’m much better.”
“Good,” he says. “Then let’s set up our next date, shall we?”
I choke on pure air, a strangled cough bursting out of me. It’s not a great sound, but I manage to splutter my way back to normal after a few seconds.
“That was painful to listen to,” Felix says, his voice cautious now. “You all right?”
“Yes,” I wheeze. “Sorry.” I thump my chest and clear my throat, and when I speak again, I sound better. “Sorry. So yes. Our next—” I can’t bring myself to say date—who knew I was so immature?—so I change the word. “Our next outing. This weekend works for me.”
“Sounds good,” he says. “Let’s do Saturday. We’re starting a big project here at work, so I might go late on Friday.”
“Oh,” I say distractedly as I try to unscrew the top of a water bottle with one hand. “What’s the project?”
“We’re doing a segment on the local news,” he says. “We’ve got an hour-long slot. So we’re working on a program for that.”
I nod, finally getting the lid off the water bottle. I take a few swigs and then speak. “Well, I’ll see you on Saturday, in that case.” I don’t let myself be disappointed; I don’t let my stupid heart be sad. Saturday is five days away, and I can handle going that long without seeing Felix Caine. I’ve lived my whole life not seeing him very often. I’ll be fine.
Except…
“Or,” he says after a second of hesitation, and my pulse thuds—just once, but it does happen. I recognize it now that I’m looking for it.
I like him. I really think I do. Good grief. This is unacceptable.
“Or?” I say.
“Or if you’re going to miss me between now and Saturday?—”
“I’m not,” I lie blatantly, “but go on.”
Once again, his grin is clear in his voice. “Then I can swing by tomorrow evening after work and pick you up. There’s a bakery in town I want to try. The one by the bookstore, actually.”
I wait for him to say more—that this is a romantic place in Lucky he wants to check out for his article, or that I might find something bucket-list-worthy there. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t offer up any excuse or explanation.
“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “May’s Place. Their cinnamon rolls are amazing.”
“Let’s do that, then. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”
“Perfect. See you then, Felicia.” And then, even though it’s rude and apparently a bad habit of mine, I force myself to hang up without saying goodbye or asking if he’s done speaking.
I refuse to let a crush on this man turn me into a silly little girl.
And you know what? I also refuse to let an accident deprive me of something I love.
I could really use a motorcycle ride today. It’s what I would do on any other day if I needed to clear my head of all the Felix thoughts bouncing around in there.
Maybe I’m not ready, and if that’s the case, so be it. But I think it’s time to try.