6. Kiara
six
Kiara
W hen I wake up the next morning, the left side of my head is a fogged-out mess, and I can only see the right side of the room.
Shit.
Incoming migraine.
Might not be too late to kill it, though.
I drag myself to the kitchen, take a double dose of painkillers, a tall glass of water, and get some coffee going. Although I feel like crawling back under the covers, I force myself to stretch my arms above my head, then gently turn my neck and massage my temples, although my skin is already a little sensitive.
I’m over what happened with Colton yesterday. Really, I am. In the most rational way. Colton and I didn’t share a moment. I was just… in the moment , I suppose, and his obvious boyfriend skills caught me off guard. My reaction to him was only that—a physical reaction. But my brain and my heart understand what my body doesn’t: that nothing can, or will ever happen romantically with Colton, because that would kill our friendship.
And I value our friendship more than anything.
I weigh the pros and cons of both situations. Girlfriend or good friend? Assuming he was even attracted to me—which he’s not—the answer is obvious. Dating Colton would inevitably lead to a breakup (I have nothing to offer him), while remaining his lifelong friend would be immensely satisfying and enriching on a personal level.
Satisfied with my decision, I tackle the one thing still looming and causing me to tense up. One thing I need to fix about yesterday.
“Really,” Uncle Bill says when I expose our charade. I’m curled on the couch, the phone on speaker so I can sip my coffee and drink my water and massage the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Didn’t look fake to me,” he counters.
Yeah, Colton pulled all the tricks. His arm curled on the back of my chair, his fingers absently twirled my hair. His hand rested on my shoulder, thumb tracing agonizingly slow strokes on my neck. Sometimes he’d lean into me, taking my hand, squeezing it gently, a slight caress. I’ve never had a man do things like that to me before. Tender things, signs of mindless attention. If that’s what it’s like to have a boyfriend, I should work harder at getting one.
Because that was awesome.
And that was all fake. Imagine if it hadn’t been! Although not sure it could get any better than that. But then again, it was Colton. Shit, he really should get a girlfriend. So much wasted potential there.
“I’m sorry we fooled you.” I suppose our private jokes, the way we finish each other’s sentences, all that didn’t exactly point to a fake relationship.
“Nothin’ to be sorry about, kiddo. You did what you had to do. Your mother, ah…” He lets his sentence hang, a growl summarizing his thoughts.
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’d think of all people, she’d have seen it.”
“Aw, sweetheart, people only see what they want to see. Deep down, your mom, she wants to see you happy with a man. You bring her a man, she’s not gonna wanna look beyond that. ’Specially with how happy you both looked.” He stays silent for a while, and I ponder his words, the migraine threatening to come back as the pain from the past stabs me.
My dad had been leading a double life. A family here, another one elsewhere. We were his other family. I might have had older half-siblings. When I found out, my life—all our lives—exploded. Since we never should have existed anyway, he chose them over us. We were only his dirty secret. His mistake.
Uncle Bill clears his throat. “You gonna be okay, Spitfire?” He must be thinking about the same thing I am.
“Yeah, been a long time.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the asshole. I was talking about Colt.”
Colton? “Sure! Why?”
His only answer is a half-formed groan. “Say, you don’t mind if I keep seeing him, right?”
I smile, happiness spreading through me. “He’s my friend, Uncle Bill. Not my ex. I’d love for you guys to hang out.” It’s the best thing that’s come out of Grams’ birthday party, this new friendship between Uncle Bill and Colton.
After I hang up, I feel lighter. I couldn’t stand it if I had to lie to Uncle Bill. Or worse, tell him Colton and I broke up. He’d be sad, and he’d lose a friend. None of this needs to happen now. Being truthful is always the best course of action.
Well, most of the time. No way am I telling Mom and Maya it was fake. The look on their faces when Colton introduced himself as my boyfriend? Priceless. He did good. I was, like, “Eat this, bitches!” Yeah, yeah. Not how you’re supposed to talk about your family, or anyone, really, but that’s what they are. Bitches.
Speaking of bitches—the good kind. I reach for my phone.
To; Bitch Brigade [Grace, Alex, Emma, Willow, + 5 more]
Gonna need a ride
Willow
Already on my way
Nice.
Recently, the Bitch Brigade started hanging out on Sunday mornings at Easy Monday, the best coffee shop in town, owned by Millie, a sort of hippie dreamer who also opened a weed shop called 420 on the other side of her coffee shop. Her coffee is my one luxury expense of the week, and I make it count. All my friends are there. We plop on Millie’s super comfy couches, read the dirty books she has on display, and talk. Some would call it gossip. Whatever, it’s fun. My favorite part is the reading.
There’s also a game night going on every Thursday. We also go there, but so do a lot of other women in Emerald Creek. It’s a different vibe. Real gossip. And we drink wine, not coffee. But there are no books.
I pull my hoodie on and slip into my boots and coat. As I get out of my apartment—backward so I can lock the door after me—I slam into a hard mass of muscle.
“You going to church, grasshopper?” Colton’s deep voice seeps into the deepest confines of my body. It never was that way. God that’s annoying!
“Yeah. I’ll say a lil’ prayer for ya.” I step to the side to get to the staircase, but he slides sideways, blocking my way. “Move.”
“You forgetting something.”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head back to look him in the eye, but my gaze stops at his lips. Without my heels on, Colton’s mouth is more out of reach. I wonder how low he’d have to stoop to kiss me now, if—
“You done?” That possessive mouth of his morphs into a smile.
I snap my eyes higher, trying to fight the blush I feel creeping up my cheeks for having been caught in the act of staring at his mouth. “What’d I forget?” Certainly not the kiss. Godohgod please make him not mention the kiss.
He wiggles his fingers at me. “Car keys.”
Oh. Right. My car. I unlock my front door and grab them off the kitchen counter, then pass them to him. He closes his fingers around mine. “You okay?” he says, a frown marring his forehead.
I’ll be okay once you stop touching me . “Yeah, course I’m okay.” I slip from his grip and turn to lock my front door. Take slow breaths. It’s a trick Chloe taught us. And surprisingly, it works. “Thanks, by the way,” I say, my voice coming out a little funny. He is going to work on my car, and as usual, he won’t make me pay for labor.
“It’s just, you have your migraine face,” he says.
He can tell? I tense. “I do?” I say as I take the staircase. “I think it’s under control.” I hope it’s not coming back. It doesn’t feel like it will.
Colton falls into step behind me. “You got a ride?”
I nod. “Willow.”
“Oh.” He seems disappointed.
“You need me for something?” I suddenly feel guilty I’m going to spend some time with my friends while he’ll be working—for free—on my car.
“Nah. Just gonna tow it into the shop now, have her ready for tomorrow, first thing.” He holds the door open for me, making me feel both special and weird. Did he use to do that before? Before yesterday.
I can’t remember. He probably did, and I didn’t notice, or I’d tease him for practicing his good manners on me. That sounds about right.
I should do this. Tease him.
But I can’t think of something sassy that only he would totally appreciate. My brain freezes as much as my body warms up. I am so fucked. I roll my eyes at myself, then catch myself before Colton can see me.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks as Willow turns into the parking lot.
I walk with him toward his truck and Willow. “Sure,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck to ease the tension.
“You talk to Bill yet?”
His change of topic catches me off guard, his question inexplicably making me sad. “Yeah.”
“What’d he say?” he asks, stopping at his truck.
I tilt my head to look at Colton’s gentle eyes, and I can’t get a read on him. “He was hoping you guys could still go to the races together. I said yes. Hope that was okay?”
Colton squints, looking away. “Cool,” is his only answer. Then he climbs into his truck, and I get into Willow’s car, feeling weirdly lonely.
“You don’t look too good,” Willow says.
“Migraine,” is all I can think to answer as we follow Colton’s truck outside the parking lot. My gaze stays on him as he takes a right, toward his shop.
Willow makes the left toward town. “Oh, no. Let me know if you need to get home all of a sudden, okay?”
“I’ll be okay.” Coffee with my friends is what I really need right now.
As we drive through The Green, I glance at my friends’ businesses. To the right, the large Victorian house where Alex was an apprentice not so long ago, until she and Chris, Emerald Creek’s baker, fell in love. The house is decorated for Christmas with string lights outlining all the windows and trim, and a gorgeous wreath on the door.
To the left, across The Green, Lazy’s is still closed, but Clover’s Nook is lit, looking totally cozy with holiday greens and lights in their window boxes, and crimson bows hanging on each window. “Chloe’s Nook is busy already,” I say, pointing to patrons walking down from the church at the top of The Green.
“Chloe’s killing it with her brunch. What pastries are you making for her this week? I heard Emma saying she bases her dinners there on their dessert menu,” Willows says with a playful wink.
“Really?” It’s probably not true, or not entirely, but it’s a nice thing to say. “Carrot cake, tiramisu, and a chestnut mousse with maple crisps and whipped cream.” It’s nothing fancy or even creative, but it fits the expectations for Chloe’s guests this season, and it pays my bills—or part of them.
“You had me at chestnut mousse,” Willow says as she pulls up to Easy Monday. “You should bribe Emma with it and have her help you with your business plan.” Emma is a CPA, and I use her services—along with everyone else in town. Willow has been on my case to look at my numbers and make a plan, and she has a point. It’s time for me to step up my game.
“You’re right.” I sigh. “Now would be a good time. Before the rush of the holidays.” Thinking about looking at rows of numbers threatens to bring back my migraine, but as I step out of the car, the cold November air hits my lungs in a good way.
I take a few steps toward the large stone building. Behind it, the grounds slope down to the river. In the summer, it’s a garden where Millie puts tables and chairs for people to sit and watch the river flow. Right now, it’s a serene white expanse, leading to the river freezing up on the sides. In its center, the water still rushes in a loud, bubbly stream, as if in a hurry to get somewhere before the deep cold of January stops it entirely in its tracks.
“You coming?” Willow says, taking me out of my contemplation as she holds the bright yellow front door open for me, the sweet and rich aroma of coffee calling to me.
Easy Monday is large, which allows for it to be way more than just a coffee shop. With its deep, comfy couches, it’s a place to stay a while and admire the art from local creators—paintings and some sculptures.
But my favorite thing about Easy’s is all the kissing books Millie has there. I’m talking rows and rows on wobbly bookshelves, and when the bookshelves overflow, stacks of romance novels spill onto the floor in haphazard towers. You can take a book or two home, as long as you bring it back.
“Kiara? Kiara?”
I focus my eyes to where the sweet voice is coming from. Millie is smiling at me, holding a paper cup. Somehow we made it to the front of the line and I’m supposed to place my order. “How can I make your day awesome, sweetheart?” she asks me. I frown at her. She never calls me sweetheart. I must really look like shit.
While my muddy brain tries to come up with an answer, she suggests a Mystified Mocha.
“Yeah. That sounds right,” I answer.
She turns around to do whatever she needs to do that makes her coffee machine hiss like the sirens from hell. If that doesn’t bring the migraine back, I should be good for today. I flinch, waiting for the banging inside my head to resume.
It doesn’t.
“Heard you had quite an adventure yesterday?” Millie says over her shoulder.
I narrow my eyes on her. What is she talking about? Colton’s tongue sliding inside my mouth in the most delicious way is the only adventure my overloaded memory can produce right now. There’s no way in hell Millie already heard about that, is there?
She turns, grabs some stuff on the counter, pours it in my coffee, all the while glancing at me with a smile. “The egg bombing?” she says to jolt my memory to where her mind is.
The what now?
“It was all over Echoes last night,” she explains, referring to Emerald Creek’s social media platform.
Egg bombing? Is that what we’re calling it?
I suppose the “egg bombing” is a worthy concern, and it belongs alongside information about potholes that appeared overnight, Daisy the cow seen wandering again in the vicinity of Ms. Angela’s flower baskets, and Chris running a special on his croissants. Who am I to say it isn’t? I’m the only witness. And I did have a what-the-fuck reaction when I saw it happen.
“Yeah, it was… pretty shocking to see, if you ask me.” I grab my coffee and hand her my rumpled bills.
“On the house today,” she singsongs. “On account of being the only witness of the crime ,” she adds with dramatic effect. “Figured you’d need some comfort.”
“Hey, thanks.” I’m not going to say no to free coffee, especially one that’s more of a mystical experience than a hot drink to wake me up. I drop a dollar bill in her tip jar and follow Willow like a zombie, then plop on the couch nearest a stack of books. I start sifting through the pile for something I haven’t read already.
His Willing Captive. Read that one.
Stay With Me. That one too.
A Very Handsome Neighbor. That one was gooood.
His Secret Virgin. Oooh, haven’t read this one. I settle next to Willow on the couch we favor, kick my snow boots off, and tuck my feet under my butt. Then I take a long sip of coffee and start reading.
Before too long, Grace, Colton’s sister, comes and sits next to me. “Hey,” she says with a smile.
I look up from my book. “Hey.”
She nudges closer to me. “So back to Colton and your little… deception.”
I feel Willow perk up. “M-hm?” I say.
“Funny story. Dad is disappointed it isn’t true and Mom agrees with him, which is rare enough. Seems like there’s a Team Kiara within the Harper household.” With a chuckle she adds, “I swear I tried to tell them you want nothing to do with their son, but you know how they are.”
“ Team Kiara suggests there’s another team,” Willow interjects.
Grace blushes slightly. “Well, Valerie’s back in town.”
“Oh, she was cute!” Willow says, and then the rest of the conversation gets lost as my ears woosh with blood.
Valerie is a great woman…but not for Colton. There was something about the two of them…every time I saw them together… it felt wrong . I have to admit, I was surprised when she moved in with him. Well, and also a little pissed, to be honest. No more late-night gaming sessions with Colt for me.
I tried, and failed, to feel sorry when she left. The day I found out, I showed up at Colt’s with a pack of beer and a pizza, like a good ol’ buddy. We went back to how it always was. And it felt great. At least to me it did.
And now she’s back? Suddenly my coffee doesn’t sit well in my stomach. I set my book on my lap, but I don’t think I can add anything kind to this conversation.
Grace rattles off about how her brother is too difficult and although I wholeheartedly agree with her, there’s nothing I want to say. If I did, she might enlist me to get him back together with Valerie. Since Grace has been back with her long-lost love, she wants everyone to get their happily ever after. Problem is, Valerie can’t be Colton’s happily ever after. And this isn’t me being jealous or possessive or having any illusions of my own with Colton. Like I said, I value my friendship with him far more than anything else.
It’s just… she’s not right for him. He seemed off when they were together.
It wrecks me to know she’s back. To know he might fall for her again.
And be miserable.
As I pretend to have no interest in Colton’s love life by losing myself again within the pages of the book, reading and rereading the same page over and over again, I force myself to analyze why I’m feeling what I’m feeling about Colton insisting on driving me last night. About him posing as my boyfriend. And about his kiss. His fake kiss. Despite this morning’s resolve, it’s clear I’m not solidly in the friend zone yet. And that’s okay. I’m allowed a wobbly journey back to normalcy, as long as I don’t ruin anything.
From the dim confines of my brain, two things are clear.
Being in Colton’s arms, being kissed by Colton, made me feel incredibly safe for the few, fake seconds that it lasted. Colton saved me once before, a long time ago, and he did again yesterday. Not from my sister or my mother or even David and their snarky remarks. He saved me from myself, from my self-loathing. He made me feel valuable and-and-and… necessary . As if the party would have been nothing close to what it was without my presence. He reminded everyone how long I worked on the cake—not in front of Grams. He took a family photo with Grams blowing all eighty candles, making sure I was seated next to her, smack in the middle. He told everyone who would hear how proud he was that I was “a self-made woman, and not many people can say that. Soon she’ll be more famous than our baker, you watch.” I punched him playfully, “Oh stop , ” but I blushed under the compliment. Everyone in the room still remembered, and probably had watched, Chris winning the TV baking competition. Now my whole family was looking at me with a different eye.
“What do you think, Kiara?” Willow says.
“About Valerie? Nothing,” I snap.
“Ooh.” She leans toward me and whispers, “We moved on from that topic a while ago. Good to know where your mind was. Speaking of which,” she adds, elbowing me.
I look up and see Colton push the door open.
My cheeks warm. Damn it. “My mind was on my book,” I answer, bringing it up to my face to make a point.
Just then, my phone rings. Grams. I set my book down and step away to take the call.