24 #3
“Actually.” He grabs my arm. “I’m not sorry. At all.” To prove his point, he presses another kiss to my lips, and I can feel my body heating at the speed of a kettle on a flame.
It’s way too easy to kiss Anders, to lose where the line between reality and acting lies.
My heart shouldn’t beat at a thunderous pace; my body shouldn’t plead with me to look for him in every room and glue itself to his, and my brain should know better than to fall for someone who absolutely won’t stay with me.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I lie, shoving him off me.
I think someone calls my name, but I hurry through the vineyard, speed through bodies lining up for drinks, and throw myself out the exit. I’m not sure where to go, only that I need to get my traitorous heart and body as far away from Anders as possible.
I spot a lantern hanging at the opening of a trail—I’m not sure where it leads.
Trying to keep my balance on the pebbled lot, I make my way to it.
Then move to the next lantern that leads me to a path lined by hundreds of tiny lit bulbs, their yellow light pouring over the meticulously cared-for landscaping of fruit bushes and flowers.
Like a fairy garden come to life.
“Lucinda!” Anders, of course, grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop.
“Don’t start with me.” I yank my hand away.
The glow of the lights makes his skin a warm tan, and his hair is a shade lighter here. He looks perfect, as always, but now I feel the urge to shove his head through the bushes for it.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, undeterred.
“What’s wrong?” My eyes widen. “You. Me. Us. There’s no us, see? There’s the problem.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Oh, please.” I shove him with my finger. “You know what I mean.”
“Pretend I don’t,” he says, “spell it out for me.”
“I shouldn’t be buying you gifts,” I tell him.
“Well, you can’t have it back,” he answers bluntly.
The fact that that’s his first worry almost makes me smile, but the nerves simmering in my stomach remind me to be serious. I take a breath, calm myself. This conversation is long overdue. Instead of drawing lines between us in my head, I need to tell him they’re there.
“I just mean, I’m a temporary addition to your life.
I’m here for a limited amount of time. I’m going to keep your sister from getting married, which is going to leave some hurt people for you to deal with when I’m gone.
You’re paying me to do the job. I will do it well.
But that’s the extent of this relationship between us. ”
He crosses his arms against his chest. “Says who?”
“Excuse me?” I almost laugh. “Who needs to say it? These are all facts.”
“Not to me,” he says. “I understand if us, the way we are, how we were at the bar, if you think that’s all a mistake. I’d rather you say that directly to me than speak for me.”
“It’s not a mistake—wait, don’t you think it was a mistake?”
“When did I say that?”
“Well, the day after we—” Even thinking about what we did at the bar makes my cheeks flare. “After the bar, you avoided me. I remember. I figured you wanted to act like it didn’t happen.”
“I avoided you, Lucinda, because it was painfully obvious you were listing every single reason why that night was a bad idea, and I didn’t want to have the conversation where you give voice to those thoughts.”
I press my fingers into my temples. “Okay, so I was wrong about that. But I’m not wrong about the rest.”
“Why did you get me the gift?” he asks.
“What?”
He repeats the question, but I’m not entirely sure of my answer. “I don’t know; I didn’t really think about it. I saw it, thought you’d think it was funny, and got it.”
“Because you like me.”
“Well, yeah, you’re a pretty likable guy. Who doesn’t like you?”
“You like me as more than a friend. You know exactly what I mean.”
Of course I do, but the point of this conversation is to draw very necessary lines between us. “I’m not sure why that matters here.”
“It matters because I like you too.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know everything about me. You don’t know if you’ll be bored of me in a couple of weeks.”
“I know enough to know you’re wrong,” he counters, “and I can learn more too. I’m not asking you to fall in love with me at this moment. But you’re here, right now, and for a while. I want to explore you, and if you want to stay with me, even when this is all over, is that so bad?”
“I—” This is not at all how I pictured this conversation would go. Especially after talking with Bethany. I thought he’d agree just to appease me, and we’d move on. Easy, if a little awkward, and then normal. Like two roommates who work together. “How would this ever work?”
“How wouldn’t it?”
“How would you explain me to your family?”
“I don’t have to tell them how we actually met, what’s happening with Valerie. There wouldn’t be a problem. They all like you already.”
“Valerie would find out eventually.”
“She won’t,” he says, firm. “And even if she did, we’d deal with it. I’ll deal with it. I’ll take all the blame. I’d handle the brunt of it all.”