24. Vincent
The only thing scarier than the return of the pictures stalking Wendy accompanied by threatening notes was Wendy sending me constant death stares in her restaurant as I interviewed any possible leads. And by possible leads, I really meant anyone I thought looked question-worthy. What better place to conduct my investigation? Wendy’s restaurant.
“You’re going to put me out of business by the time this is over,” said Wendy, slamming down a plate carrying a sizzling, oozing grilled cheese with crispy bacon.
“Easy.” I jumped. “You’re going to break another plate,” I smirked and took a bite of the perfect, crispy sandwich before burning the top of my mouth. When I reached for the glass of iced water, Wendy moved the condensation-ridden cup away.
“I’m serious. My customers are going to get suspicious.” Wendy glared at me in the corner booth. I hadn’t vacated the spot since last week when all this shit started up again.
I eyed Wendy’s chef’s uniform and spotted a tiny white flour patch on her cheekbone. Trying to hide a smile was nearly impossible. “Did anyone ever tell you how cute you look right now?”
“No,” Wendy responded through gritted teeth.
I pouted, taking another bite, but then stopped, studying the cheesy sandwich. “You didn’t poison this, right?”
She stared at me, a piercing glare that would have sent lesser men running for the hills. “If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn't do it with my world-famous grilled cheese.” She crossed her arms.
Her words made me smirk. Maybe I was imagining things, but there was a hint of that old warmth in her eyes. “Now you're just trying to butter me up.”
Wendy shook her head, hiding a smile that threatened to escape. “Just eat your sandwich, Detective.” She started to walk away when a thought came to mind.
“Hey, Wen?”
Wendy pivoted to me, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Maybe you and I can have our own interrogation later?” I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, imagining Wendy on all fours, making my cock twitch just envisioning her swallowing my length.
A blush tinted her face, a beautiful shade of pink. Then, just as quickly, she slipped back into her stern defiance, scowling at me. “Not if I kill you first,” she said firmly, though her eyes were dancing with amusement.
Just then, Marissa whisked by Wendy and headed straight to my table because she was the next interviewee. Wendy’s eyes bulged when she saw Marissa sit across from me.
“Hi, Marissa,” I said, flipping to a fresh page on my yellow legal pad.
“Hi, Vincent.” Marissa tapped her navy fingernails against the white table.
“This better be fast,” Wendy warned, pointing a finger at my chest and walking backward away from us. “And did I mention how ridiculous this is?”
“I’ll catch you later, babe.” I waved to Wendy as my eyes shifted back to Marissa, ready to fire off my list of questions. Her nails were a stark contrast to the paleness of the tablecloth, just like her ivory blouse was to her jet-black, pulled-back hair. Wendy disappeared into the kitchen, but I could tell she was watching through the small round window in the door, curious and wary.
“Just so you know, I have heard a lot about you,” Marissa started, her icy blue eyes studying me with a cool interest.
I laughed. “I'm sure you have.”
“You really care about Wendy,” she continued without missing a beat. Her gaze shifted momentarily toward the kitchen and then returned to me.
“Yes,” I admitted, clearing my throat. “I do.”
“You hurt her once,” Marissa said, her tone matter-of-fact. “She's been through a lot.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” I shifted, motioning between us.
“Oh, so you can ask me all the questions you want, but I can’t take a little stab?” Marissa leaned forward.
“I haven’t asked you anything yet.” My eyes darted to the empty pad.
“I’m waiting…” Marissa gestured for me to begin.
As forward as Marissa acted, I enjoyed a bit of a challenge. “Right. Let’s begin.” I uncapped my black ballpoint pen, pressing its tip to bleed into the paper. “What’s your full name?”
“Marissa Elaine Gregory,” she responded smoothly, a small smile gracing her bold red lips.
“Alright, Marissa Elaine Gregory.” I penned down the name and returned to meet her gaze. “What's your relationship to Wendy?”
She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she considered the question. “Wendy? She's my best friend,” she stated simply.
“Isn’t Wendy your boss too?” I jotted down the few notes I already knew.
“Yes, she is. But that doesn’t define our relationship. We’re friends first. Even on the rough days at work where we’re barking orders at each other, it never comes in between our friendship.”
“I get it.” I nodded. “And how long have you known each other?”
“Three years.”
“And you’ve always gotten along?”
Marissa nodded. “Yes. Wendy is, without a doubt, one of the truest friends I've ever had.”
I jotted down the answer and said, “And how do you feel about me being back in Wendy's life?” I kept my gaze steady on her, waiting to hear what Marissa had to say.
“Seriously?” Marissa half-laughed. “You know, I just need to say how bizarre this whole thing is. Am I a suspect on your list?”
“What? No. I’m just trying to understand the dynamics here in this town and if anything ties back to Wendy.”
“You’re weird.” Marissa held up a hand. “Just saying…”
“But you still haven't answered my question,” I persisted.
“Fine.” Marissa rolled her eyes, her lips tightening into a grim line. “Honestly, I don't trust you. Not after what happened before.”
“Fair enough.” I scribbled down her answer, keeping my expression neutral. “And what if I were to hurt Wendy again?”
Marissa's eyes flashed. “If you hurt Wendy again,” she said slowly, every word deliberate and full of venom, “I will make sure you regret it.”
I paused at her vehemence. It was clear how fiercely she cared for Wendy.
“Alright then, Marissa Elaine Gregory,” I said smoothly, capping my pen and sliding it along the inside of the pad. “I'll keep that in mind.”
She smirked, clearly satisfied with my reaction.
Wendy returned from the kitchen with a tray of warm cookies and a steaming pot of coffee. She set the tray on the table, her eyes darting between me and Marissa.
“Well?” she asked expectantly, pouring coffee into two mugs.
“Well,” I turned to Wendy with a smile. “I just learned how fiercely loyal your Newport best friend is.”
Wendy’s gaze softened as she looked at Marissa. “She’s the best.”
“I got that impression,” I answered, while picking up one of the gooey chocolate chip cookies. It crumbled in my hands, melting perfectly in my mouth.
“Now, can you please let me have Marissa back?” Wendy placed one hand on her hip, looking like the cutest teapot I ever saw.
“Is there anything else you need to know?” Marissa asked me.
“Yeah. Are you single?”
“What?” Wendy and Marissa asked.
“Relax.” I held up my hands. “I think I might have a friend for you. But he’s a total grump, just to warn you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever become desperate,” said Marissa, standing, only to join Wendy. “This was interesting. I’ll see you around, Vincent.” Marissa gave a half wave and walked to the back of the restaurant, already checking in on satisfied customers.
“Are you done for today? How about you go check on the house? You’re closing on it soon.”
“I just have one more person to talk to today.” I began packing my things, feeling Wendy’s eyes burn into my skin.
“Oh, come on. Just stop this. I can’t live this way knowing you’re on some hunt every day.” Wendy took Marissa’s seat. “You’re going to drive both of us crazy.”
“I know what I’m doing.” I held up a silencing hand.
“Okay, so who’s the next person on your list?”
“Stephen.” I slid along the booth, stopping from getting up when I saw Wendy’s frozen face. “What? Is there a problem if I speak to him?”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed, her knuckles whitening around the chair’s back. “Stephen?” she asked, and lowered her voice. “Why do you want to talk to Stephen?”
“I think he might have some information that could help.” I shrugged into my coat.
“What kind of information?” Wendy crossed her arms.
“Don’t know.” I stood. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I scooted around until Wendy and I were toe to toe. “Can I get a kiss?”
Wendy’s gaze held steady on my lips before breaking contact and resting her fists against my chest. “I feel awkward with you talking to Stephen.”
“Why?” I snorted, and her confession only made me want to question him more.
“Because I tried to have sex with him the night you came to Newport from New York, and he rejected me.”
I threw my head back, laughing. “Yeah, well, his loss.” I managed to say between fits of laughter. “What scared him away? Did you try that weird half-reverse cowgirl move?”
“Ugh, forget I said anything.” Wendy rolled her eyes, about to walk away, but I wrapped my fingers around the soft skin of her wrist.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget this.”
“Good,” Wendy retorted teasingly, her cheeks flushing pink. She tried to pull her wrist out of my grasp, but I held firm.
“Let go, Vincent.” A playful glint in her hazel eyes dared me to challenge her.
Instead, I leaned in, closing the gap until our noses almost touched. “Make me,” I whispered, echoing the same playful challenge.
Wendy let out a small gasp before regaining her composure. Her eyes narrowed, and a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her lips. Her other hand slid up my chest and around my neck, pulling me closer, our lips inches apart. Suddenly, she nipped my bottom lip, not hard enough to really hurt but enough to startle me. Taking advantage of my surprise, she quickly wriggled her wrist free from my grip.
“There,” Wendy said, triumphant. Her orbs sparkled with mischief and laughter as she stepped back, creating a distance between us.
“Oh, that’s not fair. You broke the rules.” I swiped my lip, checking for blood.
“You’re fine.” Wendy rolled her eyes.
“Why did you try to fuck Stephen?”
She shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes avoiding mine.
“You were trying to forget me,” I filled in the blanks, my heart clenching at the thought.
She didn’t deny it. Instead, she nodded, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. “I guess so. But it didn’t work. It just made things worse.” Wendy's gaze met mine again as she sighed. “It was stupid. I was hurting, and I just... I wanted something to take away the pain.”
I cupped her cheek gently, my thumb moving in small circles along her skin. “Wendy...”
“No, it's okay,” she said quickly, her hand covering mine. The warmth seeped into my skin, and a familiar ache echoed inside my chest. “I just wanted you to understand why it would be awkward for me if you spoke with Stephen.”
“How could Stephen reject you?” I squinted, scanning every detail of Wendy’s face, wanting to memorize her. “You’re gorgeous.”
Wendy's cheeks turned a shade of pink. “Stephen saw through me. He knew I was using him to forget about you,” she admitted, her voice taking on a guilty tone. “He didn’t know about you and what happened between us. But he just knew.”
I closed my eyes as another moment of how I failed Wendy hit hard. How would I ever make it up to her, I sometimes wondered. Would she ever truly heal from the scars I caused? Did she trust me fully and let go of all the hurt I brought onto her?
“Wendy, I...” I paused and swallowed hard, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “I need you to know that you have me. More than you’ll ever know.”
“I know,” she said simply, her gaze never wavering from mine.
But did she?
“Hey, maybe we should take a trip soon.” I captured her hands, pressing her soft skin against my lips.
“Where?” Wendy bit her bottom lip.
“Let’s talk about it tonight? Deal?”
Wendy hesitated momentarily, her eyes scanning my face before she nodded slowly. “Deal.”
I kissed her chilly knuckles before stealing a quick peck on her lips. “Great. Now, I’m off to question the dumbest guy on Earth.”
Wendy half-laughed. “Very funny.”
“I’ll see you later, babe. Love you.”
I left the cafe thinking how I dubbed Stephen the dumbest guy, but he wasn’t, far from it. If anything, I owned that label, maybe even forever. Because, after all, I was the moron who left the love of my life years ago, possibly never to see her again.
About a ten-minute walk later, I stood outside Stephen’s antique general store. I stared at the unique facade, appreciating the historical architecture—from the exposed brick, oil-rubbed bronze sign, and the meandering ivy up the building. I pushed open the store's heavy, aged door and was immediately greeted by the faint, musty scent of old books and aged antiques. A bell chimed overhead, and my eyes took in the disorderly array of intriguing objects—intricately designed porcelain vases, tarnished silver cutlery sets, and oddly shaped lamps from seemingly every era. Every inch of it was filled with curiosities, both old and new.
“Can I help you?” some punk man-boy asked, probably no older than sixteen, from behind a rich mahogany counter.
“I'm looking for Stephen,” I replied. “Is he around?”
The employee nodded and pointed toward the back room. “He's just checking on some new arrivals.”
I nodded my thanks and went to the back, where I found Stephen hunched over a box, sifting through what appeared to be ancient books. What piqued my interest wasn’t the books he studied but what they laid on—a gorgeous antique poker table. The forest green felt tabletop appeared brand new, completely restored. Its cherry wood frame must have been completely revamped while not losing its ageless beauty from decades ago. A set of six coasters with floral etchings lining their perimeters matched the wood and rested off-center. Was I really falling in love with a table?
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Stephen’s voice shattered my daze.
My head snapped up from the table as he caught me ogling the lifeless piece. A smirk lined the corners of Stephen’s mouth, and my instant affection for the table melted, replaced by a cold chill, reminding me why I was there.
I cleared my throat, shifting from foot to foot, and crossed my arms. “Yeah, it is.”
“Are you interested in her?” Stephen’s icy orbs held mine, and for a second, I wasn’t sure what we were discussing.
I shook my head quickly, regaining my focus. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh? Am I in trouble?” Stephen grinned, straightening his posture, and dusted off his hands against his black jeans.
“I wanted to talk to you about Wendy.” I widened my stance.
The dumb grin on his face dropped, and his mouth morphed to stone. “What about her? Is she okay?”
“Yes. She’s fine,” I answered quickly. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your relationship with her.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly coming in here like the jealous boyfriend.” He turned his back to me, losing all interest in any hopes of conversation, and started to rip open a new cardboard box of junk.
“No, not like the jealous boyfriend. More like the concerned fiancé.” I watched as his shoulders tensed.
“Oh. Yeah.” Stephen’s jaw ticked. “I forgot you guys got engaged. Pick a date yet?”
“No date. Nothing set in stone.”
Stephen turned to me, the tension lines on his forehead smoothing out slightly. “Good. I mean, it's too soon, you know? You've just come back into her life.”
Well, fuck him and his analytics as I fought a deep burning urge to crack his jaw. “Yeah, well. You can say we picked up where we left off easily.”
“Not what I heard,” Stephen mumbled.
“Did you say something?” My voice boomed across the store because I knew exactly what the fucker said and meant.
“Nah. Nothing.” Stephen chuckled, egging me on and resuming his project of rummaging through the garbage box.
I flexed my sweaty hands, fighting the pins and needles coursing through my fingers. I wanted to punch this guy. Something about him was off. Or maybe I was jealous, but of what? He rejected Wendy. My eyes darted around the shop, trying to figure out what to say next.
“Can I just ask you a few questions?”
“No.” Stephen shot death daggers at me.
A hiss of oxygen exited my nostrils when I spotted a carousel of multi-colored poker chips, probably at least forty years old. Even without touching one, I knew they carried a weight the newer chips lacked.
I reached out and flicked one with my finger, watching it spin once on its axis before settling back into its slot.
Stephen watched me, his icy stare unblinking. “Those are not for sale,” he warned.
“I didn't say I wanted to buy them.” I played with another chip, this one a deep crimson. “Besides, what use do you have for an old set of poker chips?”
“That's none of your business.” He matched my defiant tone and crossed his arms over his chest. “And I think it’s about time you stopped this witch hunt you started here. Wendy is safe. I think you’re just the problem.”
I picked up a royal blue chip and tossed it inches into the air before catching it. “Hey, I have an idea.” A grin bloomed across my face, making Stephen clench his jaw. I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy, so I figured the next best thing would be to fuck with him. “How about a quick hand? Just you and me?”
“You want to play poker with me?” Stephen jabbed a finger into his sturdy chest.
“Yes.” I grinned. “A quick one-on-one. I’m assuming you know how to play?”
“Of course I know how to play.”
“You play well?” I raised a curious eyebrow.
Stephen eyed me warily before the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “I thought you were here to talk about Wendy, not throw away your money.”
“I am,” I retorted, keeping my gaze steady. “See, if you win, I'll take your advice and stop this interrogation.”
His eyes narrowed into crescent moon slits. “And if you win?”
“I get the poker table and the chips. Oh, and obviously, I continue to talk to whoever the fuck I want to in this town about whatever I want.” I rapped my knuckles against the green tabletop before tossing the chip back into its place.
“It’s not for sale.” A dark shadow crossed his face.
“Aw, that’s not fair. Then why have it out here? That’s a terrible way to tease someone.”
“I don’t care.” Stephen waved me away, but I didn’t move an inch. “It’s not for sale.”
“Or, maybe you don’t want me to have it.” I stepped around the table, closing the gap.
“Maybe.” Stephen’s eyes raked from my face down to my chest. “Either way. Not for sale.”
“Why is that?” I leaned forward. “Did this table belong to someone special?”
“I guess you can say that.” His jaw clenched. “And, I don’t like you.” Stephen backed away an inch.
“Well, that's a pity.” I frowned. “Because I was starting to like you. Who did the table belong to?”
Stephen's lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze bore into mine unwaveringly. The silence hung heavy between us for an eternity before he opened his mouth to speak.
“Fine, you wanna play?” he spat, ignoring my question while glaring at me with an intensity that should have been reserved for deadly enemies. “But when I win, you're outta here for good.”
“Agreed.” I extended my hand toward him as if to seal the deal.
Stephen took it reluctantly, and our grip locked. Then, he pulled away abruptly and reached for an old deck of cards behind the counter.
“You deal.” I smirked as Stephen shuffled the deck with expert ease, betraying his familiarity with the game. As Stephen began dealing the cards between us, I sat back in my chair, watching his every move. This was more than just a simple game of poker. It was a power play—a battle of wills—and I intended to win.
I almost felt bad for Stephen. He had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. But then again, neither did I.
The game unfolded slowly, both of us being careful with our bets. The tension was palpable, each waiting for the other to slip up. It was an intoxicating mix of fear and exhilaration. The stakes were high, and both of us knew it.
Stephen's seasoned poker face didn't betray his hand’s quality or inner thoughts. But I noticed small things about him—the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he was unsure about a decision, how he drummed his fingers on the table when he had a good hand. Little tells that gave away his game.
He, too, was watching me closely, looking for any sign of weakness. But this was my game now, and I wouldn't lose easily.
“You got something good?” Stephen’s voice broke through my deep concentration as he threw a cheeky grin at me.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I shot back with a smirk of my own.
The room filled with silent anticipation again as we resumed our mental warfare over the green table.
Several rounds passed in which we won and lost almost equally, keeping us both on our toes. It came down to one final showdown that could tilt the scale in either direction.
I glanced at my hand; a pair of Kings and Queens of hearts—not too shabby. Stephen pushed forward a stack of chips with more confidence than ever before. Now was the moment of truth.
“Call.” I pushed my own stack into the middle, matching his bet.
Stephen revealed his cards first; a pair of Jacks. Not bad, but it wouldn't get him across the line this time. I laid down my hand, and a silent satisfaction washed over me as I saw his face drop slightly. Stephen’s face was unreadable as he stood up abruptly, pushing back his chair with a hard scrape.
“You won,” he said curtly, offering no congratulations, only a tight-lipped acknowledgment. “If it’s not gone in an hour, the table is mine again.”
The poker chips and table were mine now. But more than that, I had won the right to continue seeking answers about Wendy without hindrance.
“Not a problem.” I waved. However, as Stephen retreated into the shadows of his shop, I couldn't help but wonder what else this small victory might have cost me.
Two hours later…
Five hundred bucks later, a few guys I found off the street carefully placed the poker table, its chairs, and coveted chips in the center of Wendy’s living room. I stepped back, observing how the new addition to Wendy’s summer decor-themed home stuck out like a sore fucking thumb.
She was going to be so pissed.
And when I heard her gasp from the front door, her reaction validated my concern.
“What the fuck, Vincent?” Wendy glared at me, still half outside. “How? Why?” She staggered over from the entrance to the table, running a finger along its edge.
“I won it.” I motioned to the table with a dumb smile and suddenly didn’t feel like the winner.
“Won it?” Wendy echoed incredulously, crossing her arms and shooting me a withering glance. “From who?”
“Stephen.” I shrugged.
“What does that even mean?”
I nodded and braced myself for the storm. Wendy's Newport home was her sanctuary, every piece chosen with thoughtful attention. This monstrous poker table surely wasn't fitting into the aesthetic she had so painstakingly curated.
She circled the table slowly, her pointed heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. I watched as she traced her fingers over the tabletop, her face unreadable.
After an eternity of silence, she turned back to me, eyes flashing dangerously. “You made a bet with Stephen, and he lost?” Her words slithered between gritted teeth. “This table meant so much to him. And you just brought it here like...like a trophy!”
“How do you know what this table meant to him?” I loomed over Wendy like a predator, and she was the prey.
“Stephen told me once when I was in his shop. He said it belonged to a good friend he lost.”
“And you didn’t think it was odd when he said that to you knowing my past?” I frowned. “Did he say who this friend was?”
“That’s not the point, Vincent. Not everything revolves around you. And no, he did not say anything about his friend.” Wendy stared me down with those mesmerizing orbs. Even when she was angry, her beauty was heartbreaking.
“I found it strange how he didn’t want to part with the table. I mean, what do you think it could mean?”
“Would you stop?” Wendy rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, I think Stephen is hiding something, and you’re always so quick to dismiss him.” I crossed my arms.
“Maybe I only dismiss him to you because you are a little jealous that he once had feelings for me. And you’re paranoid.” Wendy pointed to my forehead.
“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “All I’m saying is, there’s something off with the guy.”
“Vincent, stop,” Wendy said through gritted teeth.
“I hate when you say my name angry.” I frowned.
“Oh really?” Wendy thrust her tongue into her cheek.
“Really,” I said, watching her icy stare begin to thaw.
“Is there something else you’d like me to call you?” she suggested, a wicked smile creeping onto her face.
“I can think of a few things.” I clasped my hands behind my back, rocking on my heels.
She raised an eyebrow at my answer, but Wendy’s stern expression slowly faded. Circling the table, she picked up one of the poker chips, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully.
“You know,” Wendy started, tracing her fingers along the chip's edges now resting on her palm. “I kind of don’t trust you right now.”
“Why?” I twisted my face. “I won this fair and square.”
“There is nothing square about you.” Wendy bit her bottom lip, fighting a smile.
“That’s not true. I have very square shoulders. My tailor always told me so. And Marjorie.” I closed the distance between us and pressed my forehead to Wendy’s, the heat of her skin seeping into my body.
“If Marjorie says so, then it must be true.” Wendy brought her lips closer, her warm breath tickling my chin.
“Let’s stop talking about my mother, okay?” I brushed my mouth against Wendy’s.
“You brought her up first.” Wendy wrapped her arms around my neck. Her lips were barely a breath away from mine. “Seriously, though. What happened between you and Stephen earlier?”
I jerked my head away so I could view Wendy’s curious gaze. And I told her what transpired between us. A whole lot of nothing, but I walked away with something. I couldn’t read Wendy’s expression as I told her the story, but at least her body remained pressed to mine.
“This needs to stop, Vincent. You can’t keep questioning everyone here; otherwise, you’ll have an even bigger problem.” Wendy ran her fingertips along my jawline, inching their way up my cheeks and through my hair.
Her touch was soothing, but her words stung. I knew she was right. “Maybe you’re right,” I murmured, touching her arm. Her fingers stilled in my hair. How she looked at me as though she was trying to solve a complicated puzzle made me feel incredibly vulnerable.
“But,” I continued, struggling to keep my voice steady, “I need you to understand why I'm doing this.”
“And I do, Vin. I do. And you have no idea how much it means to me to watch you so determined to ensure we’re okay.” Wendy’s eyes searched mine for confirmation, except I waited for her next words. “But I can’t live this way much longer. This needs to stop.”
I closed my eyes, knowing she was right. I had just hoped I would have solved this big gigantic fucking problem before Wendy shed light on the obvious. I was going to destroy us if I kept us on this hunt, and it meant making a choice: give this up and live hoping for the best, or continue. This time, I was going to do the right thing and the right move by Wendy. If she wanted me to stop, then I would stop.
Because no matter what, I couldn’t lose her again.