Drift

Chapter 3

A deluge on the road to town

I should’ve let Sawyer walk me home.

A kick of my shoe sends pebbles skittering across the road.

Headlights drift past every now and then, but otherwise, it’s quiet.

Nothing but me and my thoughts. The tree shadows falling over empty storefronts remind me of walking home from the library before I met Ethan.

I had as many friends back then as I do now. None.

Being an adult is so unbearably lonely sometimes.

I have freedom and money, and random thoughts about pyrography and owls pop into my head, but I have no one to share them with. A dining table takes up a corner in my apartment. No one sits there. I eat my dinner watching TV on the sofa so I can pretend I have company.

Sighing, I shift my satchel on my shoulder.

It’s almost flat, basically empty. A lunchbox, a coin purse, a key—just in case the door decides to open—my toothbrush, and a clean pair of entirely impractical lacy knickers.

So little shouldn’t feel like a rock over my arm.

They do. But then, everything feels heavy…

even the air. This place I’ve found myself in is missing some of the older-world charm of other towns scattered along the Tasmanian coast, but somehow the uneasy mix of old and new has started to feel like home.

Why does Luke have to ruin everything by living here, too?

He suits the city. Maybe his agent can negotiate a better deal for him.

No more guest appearances on TV. His first cookbook will be released soon.

Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for him to secure a starring role on his own show?

He’ll need to move to Melbourne if that happens.

Fabulous. Bon voyage! All my past disappointments will be safely contained in a city on the other side of an ocean.

Headlights spill across the asphalt, and my shadow stretches long and thin. A sleek silver sedan glides past.

“That’s right.” I grit my teeth. “Keep driving.”

Few people around St Helens can afford such a luxurious car. I certainly can’t. Not that I’d choose one that temperamental to drive—even before my divorce. My Toyota suited me just fine. But I’ve ridden in the passenger seat of this car before…and more than once.

The car slows.

“Who up there has it in for me?” I groan, throwing my head back to glare at the stars hanging above me. “Is it you, Grandpa? I thought you forgave me for the time I broke your stupid cuckoo clock!”

There has to be a way to dodge Luke without confronting him head-on.

I can…

Run?

I haven’t done that willingly since high school. Athletics is not my thing. History is. I love the excitement that tingles all the way to my toes when I dive into the details of other people’s lives. Drama is perfectly acceptable if it’s not happening to me.

The car rolls to a stop beside the curb up ahead, and the red brake lights blink off. I search frantically for an escape, but the road yawns into nothing but black. If I run, if I even can, where do I go?

The door snaps shut.

This… I gulp. I can’t face this.

I hitch my satchel higher on my shoulder, fix my gaze on the sidewalk, and walk as fast as I can.

“Hello.”

Luke’s silky accent threatens to slow me down, but my footsteps only falter for one strangled breath.

Pretend you don’t see him.

“Elsie.”

Or hear him.

But it’s impossible to pretend Luke isn’t there when I bump into a wall of white linen and expensive denim. The familiar scent of his cologne lingers, soft citrus and memories of an almost-forgotten summer in the Cinque Terre. But tonight isn’t one of those evenings. It’s a thunderstorm. Bleak.

“Hello there,” he says.

“Oh.” I draw my satchel across my chest. The battered leather isn’t fit to be a shield, but I need a layer of protection between us. “Hi.”

“I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

“Well, here I am.”

Despite Sawyer’s insistence otherwise, I am awkward, and even though I hate the word, I’m probably quirky, too.

So, instead of squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin like a normal person, I twirl on the spot.

The plaid pleats of my skirt swirl in the dark until I end the ridiculous display with a curtsy.

“And here I go,” I say.

I waste no time escaping. My feet fly down the sidewalk. But Luke easily matches my pace—without the burning face and heaving chest—and he walks shoulder to shoulder beside me.

“Did the clinic close late tonight?” Confusion edges his voice. He’s probably never been stood up before.

“I locked up right on time,” I say.

“No walk?”

“I go for a walk along the waterfront every day after work.”

“Not today.”

“Every day.”

“How did I miss you?”

I scoff a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you were too busy cozying up to your best friend, Kristen.”

My footsteps continue alone down the sidewalk.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters.

I don’t wait for him to finish having his epiphany. I’m out of there.

“Elsie!” Urgent steps burst against the pavement behind me. “Wait.” Luke’s hand clutches mine, and he tugs me to a stop.

With my eyebrow creeping up, I turn to face him. Oh, the glare that man gets from me! “Are you sure you want to do that?” I snap. “What if the journalist sees you? Imagine the scandal!”

“I’m sorry you heard that.”

Everything in me knots at once. No explanation. Not even a proper apology! “But you’re not sorry you said it?” I choke out.

“Els…”

“Any of it?”

Luke’s eyes whip in every direction, and his throat bobs on a nervous swallow. We’re not alone anymore. An elderly couple strolls hand-in-hand on the other side of the street. I don’t recognize them. Tourists, probably. But he’s not taking any chances. He leans in.

“You have every right to be upset.” His voice drops even lower. “But I don’t like people knowing—”

“About me. Yes, I know. I heard you.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t.”

Sawyer was right. Standing up for myself doesn’t have to be loud. But the hiss of that word escaping between my clenched teeth is ugly and unfamiliar. Adrenaline floods me. My knees wobble.

“Oh… Els…”

Why is Luke staring at me like that? His eyebrows sink low, and deep lines etch his mouth, his eyes lingering on my cheek.

Am I…?

I dart a hand to my face and furiously swipe at my cheeks. Why am I like this? “These tears aren’t over you!” I bark at Luke. “I’m frustrated. I’m… I’m angry!”

He throws another frantic look behind him. “Let me drive you home. Or you can come up to mine.” His hand brushes my elbow. He’s trying to coax me to edge off the sidewalk, closer to his car. “We can talk properly if we don’t have an audience.”

I wrench my arm out of his grip. “I’d rather dog-ear every single page of my hardback copy of The Woman in White!”

“I think that might be an Elsie Hoskins version of an insult.”

I despise his grin. This isn’t a joke. And we aren’t friends. Furious, after a rough swipe of my cheek, I spin on my heel and escape. Well, I try to. He easily keeps pace beside me.

“Els, let me explain.”

“Explain what? Your scoring system? Perhaps you’d like to reassure me that I started off as a solid six on your metric, but you deducted points for… for…” Well, what isn’t wrong with me?

“You’re unquestionably a ten out of ten.”

I snort in disgust and keep right on walking.

“I mean it,” he says. “You’re intelligent, so perfectly sweet—”

“Spare me. I don’t need your compliments.”

I do, though. I adore them. I want to curl up in his lap and let him tell me about how wonderful I am all night long. Does it matter if every word is a lie?

Luke sighs. “I’m trying to explain—”

“Don’t bother.”

“It’s important I try. Kristen… Other people… They’ve been asking a lot of questions about us. We haven’t exactly been discreet about the fact we’re, well… I suppose we’re…”

Why is it so hard for him to finish that sentence? He’s the one who asked for the arrangement. He’s been very careful to explain what it is—and what it isn’t. We aren’t dating. There are no expectations.

I help him finish whatever lie he’s conjuring up by suggesting, “We spend time in each other’s company?”

“We do a lot more than that.”

“Engage in sexual intercourse?”

A quiet laugh shakes Luke’s shoulders. “I wish you knew what it does to me when you talk like that. But yes. We enjoy each other’s company and engage in sexual intercourse.” His suggestive smile falls away when it clashes with the thunder of my expression.

“Engaged.” I overemphasize the D. “Past tense. There will be nothing further between us that’s…physical.”

Except perhaps a well-timed slap. Can I do that? That’s very dramatic. I bite down on my lip. And wrong. Even in my fit of self-righteous anger, I keep my hands still by my side.

“When Kristen confronted me, I panicked,” he says. “There is a journalist in town covering the festival.”

“Don’t you worry. If she hunts me down for a comment…” I bare my teeth in a sinister sort of smile.

The color drains from Luke’s face until he’s whiter than his linen shirt.

Sighing, I shake my head. “Do you really think I’d do that? I have no intention of talking to that journalist or any journalist. Ever.”

I got offers when my divorce papers were filed. After it was finalized, too. Magazines. TV. I’d be cruising home in a car as nice as Luke’s if I could sacrifice my principles and dish the dirt about all the people my ex-husband ruined to make his millions.

“I trust you,” Luke says. “It’s everyone else who’s the problem.”

“Kristen?”

“She’s not a problem.”

I shoot him a dubious look. “So, the only reason she was at the wharf was to warn you about the shocking rumor about us? How noble of her.”

His dark brows knit together. “Is that what this is about? Elsie, there are no other women in my life right now.”

My mouth drops open in disbelief. He thinks I’m jealous? The nerve of him. The gall! “This is about you talking about me behind my back!”

“Once.”

“Except it wasn’t once, was it?”

“Els.”

“No. No more Els. We aren’t friends or buddies or mates. I know tonight wasn’t the first time you’ve said mean things about me.”

“How can you know—”

“Because my real friend told me!” I grimace. Sawyer’s not exactly a friend, either…yet.

“I swear to you—”

I stick my palm in Luke’s face. That shuts him up, even if it is one of the rudest things I’ve ever done. My hand quickly retreats. I hate raising my voice. The initial thrill of being brave fades under the all too familiar anxiety. I hate all this… this… mess.

“You said this would be fun,” I say, furiously scrubbing away any traces of tears left on my cheeks. “I’m not having fun anymore.”

“Elsie—”

“I hope I never see you again.”

Wishful thinking. St Helens is a small town. I’m going to see Luke again at some point, even if I sneak around in my trench coat and the fedora hat gathering dust on the top shelf of my closet. I won’t be able to avoid him forever. But that doesn’t mean I have to waste another minute on him now.

“Addio!” I say.

I spent enough years studying abroad to learn a little Italian.

Addio is a goodbye for when you really mean it.

Forever. See you later, backstabbing traitor.

I storm off, channeling every ounce of frustration into getting away as quickly as possible.

My satchel swings against my hip, but the only footsteps I hear are my own.

“Elsie! I’m sorry!”

I don’t even waste another glance on Luke. I shout into the dark, “You should be!” and I keep walking.