Chapter 21 Cardinal Blues （Lena）
XXI
Cardinal Blues
(Lena)
I wish I could pinpoint the moment when life became so brutal that I can’t even appreciate the loveliest turquoise blue water I’ve ever seen.
Even Lake Tahoe’s beauty can’t fill the crater in my chest. It feels like I’ve been ripped apart with a meat hook, and I’m left with only threads holding me together.
One second, I’m staring out across the unbelievable water, the distant trees visible on the shoreline.
The next, I have to blink through my vision blurring. I see Brady’s face for the thousandth time, angry and hurt because he knows I lied point-blank.
What a pathetic ending.
I might as well have given him George Costanza’s infamous “It’s not you, it’s me” speech.
I should’ve known he’d see through it, but I had to wing it when he showed up in my driveway, determined to talk sense.
The worst part is, it wasn’t enough.
I have a rotten feeling he’s still trying to piece together the missing bits I wouldn’t give him.
I just hope he stays away from provoking Harry, at least. There’s nothing left to fight over now that I’ve basically surrendered.
I blink again.
This time, when I open my eyes, there’s a huge smiling face staring down at me, pinched with laughter and concern.
Elle watches me through her blond hair hanging over the sides of her face like curtains.
“What is it?” I ask weakly, glancing around and wondering how much of the day I’ve wasted in this chair with a romance thriller on my lap.
I didn’t know I could feel like I’ve aged twenty years in one week.
My bestie blinks, looking like she’s about to say something. Probably something true and to the point and dusted with optimism like powdered sugar.
That’s the Elle I’ve known and loved since we were kids.
But she just shakes her head, a small frown pulling her lips down.
“Not another headache?” I ask, sitting up. My turn to be concerned, knowing she’s prone to migraines from hell.
Actually, that’s how she met her superhusband, August. Husband.
God, it’s still weird to think of her married, especially to him. Even weirder to see them so happy together after they slogged a hundred miles through the biggest drama in Seattle that didn’t involve a Pruitt.
That’s Elle’s luck, though. Marrying the first hot billionaire beast she ever fainted on.
“Nope, they’re pretty rare these days, thankfully. I just wondered if you still wanted to take the boat out today? There’s time.” Her wary smile gives me the impression it’s not the first time she’s asked.
“The boat,” I repeat absently.
It’s official. Heartbreak has made me an idiot.
“Don’t worry! I won’t be driving. It’s way too big.” She grins mischievously.
“Well yeah, I don’t want to drown.”
She giggles.
Although sinking in a lake this heavenly doesn’t feel like the worst end to the Lena Joly story. It would give Brady a convenient out without any breakup bombshells, wouldn’t it?
Could I fake my death and start over at a clinic in Thailand?
I’m being ridiculous, I know.
Elle knows, too, because she snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“Hello, Lena? Is anything getting through?”
“Half of it. But sure, let’s go out for a boat ride. I’ve been wanting to see your latest toy, anyway.”
“Technically, it’s Gruffykins’s toy. But he’s said I can take it out anytime I like as long as the captain’s on hand.”
“Aren’t you guys married?” I squint up at her. “What’s his is yours, right?”
“And what’s mine is mine.” She grins and beckons to the door leading back inside from her expansive patio. “Also, I’m so pumped you agreed, because I already had the captain on standby this evening.”
The captain? Holy hell.
There are times when I forget just how rich my once-starving-artist friend is.
Fresh air will do me good, though.
I just got here yesterday, and so far I’ve spent my entire time in three large rooms, moping around like a soggy kitten.
Three gorgeous rooms, in Elle’s defense. And mine.
It’s not like being here has been a hardship.
Except for the fact that every single room screams Brady Pruitt.
I don’t know why. It doesn’t make sense, because this place is a world away from his expensive penthouse lording over an urban kingdom.
Here, it’s an ultramodern, beautifully decorated lake house suitable for a billionaire power couple. Every room has soaring bookcases and furniture so comfortable I wonder if I’m dreaming.
The place doesn’t need a library since that’s basically the entire house.
More books than I can count in every room, shelves bursting with the oversize illustration and art tomes you’d expect from a talent who keeps tearing up the world of kids’ storybooks. Elle’s library is probably worth more than my life savings.
Under any other circumstance, I’d love it here. There’s even a basement theater and a heated pool overlooking a white dock so spotless it’s unnatural.
It better. I think August must own like three large boats now. Plural.
So aesthetically, no, this isn’t anything like Brady’s place. It’s bigger and more natural. It’s missing his balmy smile and Queenie’s happy licks and a big, warm bed to crawl in with a man who gladly helps me shed my sanity.
Ugh, poor Queenie.
I miss her terribly.
And double ugh, this house. Brady would capture some amazing videos here for his Insta.
I can just see him outside, talking to his fans with Queenie’s tail slapping his legs, every time I glance out the window.
You want to know the shittiest thing?
I never gave either of them a proper goodbye.
The lump in my throat swells until it crowds my eyeballs.
“Okay, missy,” Elle says, taking my arm and dragging me up. “That’s enough glooming for one day. We’re going out on the water, and you’re gonna smile and drink wine. Then you’re going to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head.”
I snort. “Like you don’t know.”
“Eh, I know you and Playboy McFakerson broke up, and it was never real to begin with. And you’re dead set on a fake romance not meaning anything even though there’s a married girl standing right in front of you who started off in the same place.
” She smiles so brightly I laugh. I’m so lucky to have her—a friend who can do pity gracefully.
“But I know that isn’t the whole story front to back if you’re still this cut up about it. ”
“Okay, fine. On the boat,” I promise.
“Great!” Soon, I’m trapped in her inescapable positivity as she grabs a small basket of snacks and wine and sets off for the dock.
The lake boat seems fairly modest for a yacht, nothing like the Seattle monsters that can have their own ten-person crew and helipad.
It’s a different life out here, slower and quieter. I see why they picked Tahoe to get away from Seattle’s constant energy. But Elle looks like she’s settled into her happy new life, and I’m seriously glad for her.
The wind streams her long wispy hair back from her face as we climb aboard, and the boat starts moving a few minutes later.
While Elle pops into the cabin for a chat with the captain, it gives me another chance to check my phone.
Nothing from Brady.
I mean, I wouldn’t text me either. Not after I chucked his heart in the dumpster.
Nothing from Harry, either, and that’s no big comfort.
Plenty of frantic messages from Trish and Dr. Ezzie, though, asking me about my snap decision to back out, suggesting I revisit things and maybe consider bringing Harry’s firm on as a partial stakeholder.
Fuck that entirely.
By walking away, I’m giving up on Pawsome Hearts’ survival and myself.
The clinic is Dr. Ezzie’s legacy. Her dream. It was, and now she’s running the risk of signing over its soul to the devil.
With my breath lodged in my lungs, I scroll through Brady’s socials too. I keep waiting for a big announcement about the end of our “relationship,” but so far there’s nothing.
Maybe he doesn’t know what to say.
I don’t blame him.
But I know guilt, and it stings me like crawling scorpions.
Did I make the right decision? Running away from my dream, my life, from Brady? When I think about it too much, they’ve become indistinguishable in my head.
Pawsome Hearts and Brady Pruitt, tangled up in an inseparable mess I blew to smithereens.
Oh, scorpions, you don’t let up. Your venom makes me feel so shitty, and it’s what I deserve.
It’s not like I had a choice. Not with Harry holding a blackmail gun to my head.
Sticking around would’ve meant disaster for Brady, his family, for my business. Any doctor I could’ve partnered with would’ve ran away for sure the instant they got a whiff of that scandal.
I couldn’t do it, risking a bigger heartbreak for—what, exactly? A not-relationship that was always meant to end?
And if I told him, he’d have gone for Harry’s throat. He might’ve done something unholy for me, ruining the rest of his life. The polar opposite of what this whole dumb fake engagement was supposed to accomplish.
God.
I’m wallowing in self-pity, but I try to stop when I see Elle coming my way, still wearing that permanent cheery smile.
“Isn’t it refreshing out here? I love the fresh air.”
“Yep. Worry-free,” I lie.
We’re slowly gliding toward the center of the glassy lake as she climbs into the chair next to me. “We’re on the boat now, so what’s the story? Do I have to remind you that you would’ve clawed my face off if I’d been this tight lipped during my drama?”
Touché.
I tilt my head back, staring at the baby blue sky as my stomach knots.
There’s no way to avoid the truth—I’m a coward and I’m running. It doesn’t matter if I’ve picked a beautiful place to escape.
“It wasn’t fake,” I whisper.
“Duh.”
I look up and roll my eyes at her. “Girl, come on. You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”
“Oh, I’m plenty sympathetic. If I had some tea aboard, I’d be giving you the whole Gran-bleeding-heart tea chat right now. But anyone could tell you’re heels over head for this guy. I’ll trust you that he’s over the playboy stuff—but does he love you back?”
Love?
Oh, shiiiit.
That’s a big little word.
I mean, we’ve been together for less than a season.