Chapter 12 #2
She hesitated slightly. “Well, no. But the farm down the street does. I’m sure they would let me use their stables for revenge purposes.”
“Of course they would.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “As I was saying—”
“Right, right, the nicest rooms. That means we’ll give them Lakeside and Victorian Elegance. They’re the biggest.”
“Sure,” Ethan agreed. “Whatever works. And after they settle in, we’ll give them a tour of the town that doesn’t end in disaster, delicious meals each day, walks through the gardens, trips to the lake—you name it.”
“I can name it,” Julia said. “Do you know what you’re talking about?”
“No!” he replied, throwing his hands up. “That’s why you’re here! You have to do this for me. Take them to all the places they’ll like, places where they can do the quiet, romantic thing that will hopefully trigger whatever it is in them that could possibly elevate their relationship.”
“Oh my god,” Julia breathed. “You are a pimp.”
Ethan groaned. “I’m not actually trying to make them fall in love or”—he shuddered—“anything else. If they do, I don’t want to know.
That is not the intention. We just need to get a few nice pictures sold to a few popular websites about what a good time the two of them are having together and then let the speculation do the rest. They’ll carry on as good friends, I’ll keep my job, your bed-and-breakfast will become world famous, and everyone will be happy. ”
Everyone will be happy.
Sure.
Of course, not having to worry so much about the money would be nice.
That was the whole point of all this, wasn’t it?
Julia would contrive a few romantic scenarios, plan a few sunset walks, prepare a few candlelight dinners (with Maggie’s help) to make it all seem like a modern-day fairy tale.
After all, she knew the trails where the sun hit just right between the trees.
She knew the nights when they did live music in the town square.
Or the mornings that the farmers’ market was open.
All the stuff Hallmark movies were made of.
So what if it all felt a little bit like the “sha-la-la-la-la” scene in The Little Mermaid, where all the aquatic friends were trying to make Ariel kiss the prince? At least she wasn’t Ursula in this scenario, right?
She nodded slowly as she looked down at Ethan, sitting there at her feet, his gaze expectant and somewhat hopeful. She could do this. Maybe not for him, but for her. For Donwell Cottage. And for the chance to finally move on after all these years. To get some closure.
“All right,” she agreed. “I know what to do. We got this.”
Ethan rolled his eyes up in relief and flopped backward on the bed, half his body hanging off and his legs still on the floor. “Jesus Christ. Thank god for you, Gem. Thank you.”
He turned his head to look up at her, and the familiar blue of them took her aback for a moment. She clenched her fist so she wouldn’t put her fingers in his hair, so close to the knuckles of her right hand.
Instead, she swallowed hard and nodded, looking away from him.
“It’s fine,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s for this. I’m happy to do it for this place.”
It’s not for you.
The words were left unsaid, but he caught them nonetheless, staring at her for an extended length of time.
He turned and propped himself up on his elbows to turn to look at her fully.
She tried to hide the shock waves that coursed through her body when she felt him gingerly place his hand on her knee, just hitting her thigh, touching the bare skin there and burning her with the feel of it.
She regretted putting shorts on again after her bath rather than pants, despite feeling overheated. She’d figured it was easier access for her sore ankle, and the long-sleeve shirt she threw on as an afterthought balanced it out.
But now she felt too exposed, too bare, and it allowed him the advantage of touching her and having her actually feel it, down to her bones. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched her, all those years ago now. Well, actually, she could…
And she didn’t want to think about that.
“Gem—”
“I think you need to stop calling me that.”
Her voice sounded foreign to her, hard yet still emotional. She wished she had the strength to remove the uncertainty from her voice: You need to stop calling me that. Not I think. She refused to look at him or acknowledge the hand on her leg in any other way. Just: Stop calling me that.
It hurt too much, this callback to another time, a time when things were different.
More comfortable, safer, not so emotionally fraught.
It was too easy to pretend, to fall back into the old habits and ways of behaving with each other, and it was a slippery slope.
A road she didn’t want to take, not again.
She felt his hand lift from her leg. Heard him mumble an apology.
“I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s fine,” she interrupted. She didn’t need his apologies, not anymore. Didn’t want his excuses or his platitudes. Whatever he was going to say, she’d already heard it. And she wasn’t interested in hearing it ever again.
“But don’t touch me,” she continued, that strange intonation in her voice again.
Flat. She could feel her quickening heartbeat, that same painful heaviness that preceded one of her all-too-familiar episodes.
She willed herself to calm down, to keep her voice steady.
“If this is going to work, that and the Gem thing both need to end now.”
He sat up fully, moving closer to the edge of the bed, sitting more stiffly, feet flat on the floor and hands folded between his bent knees.
There was no way he could know the emotions roiling inside her, the physical response that she was having to this conversation, to his presence, that was manifesting in her chest. But still, his silence put her on edge, this big, hulking figure just sitting there, not looking at her, not talking.
She found herself worrying briefly that he was mad or upset with her, but quickly acknowledged that that fear was just a remnant of a past emotion.
The ghost of the way she used to be with him, always wanting to make sure he was happy and okay.
It didn’t matter now. She didn’t wish him ill, sure. But she wouldn’t—couldn’t—care about his happiness any longer. Not like that.
Her breaths came quicker now, accelerating with the beating of her heart. She refused to let him see her this way. He had to leave, and he had to leave now.
Abruptly, she stood and tried to find a way to make hopping look dignified as she quickly made her way to the bathroom.
“I’m using the bathroom now. You should go” was all she managed to get out before closing the door quickly without waiting for a response. Bracing her hands on the sink, she stared at her reflection, pale face and dilated pupils staring back at her as she willed her heart rate back down to normal.
“Julia.” His voice was muffled but still close enough to tell her that he was on the other side of the door. “I just hope you know how sorry I—”
“Good night, Ethan!” she called back, her heart rate picking up again, the edges of her vision going spotty and dark. “I’ll see you in the morning!”
There was silence on the other side of the door. Then a heavy sigh. Finally, she heard footsteps retreating until the telltale creak of the stairs told her it would be safe to come out again.
Unfortunately, she was in no position to go anywhere, so she rode it out as best she could, sinking down to the floor and allowing the cool tile to press against her overheated cheek.
Her heart rate slowed incrementally over a period of time that felt close to forever, but eventually she was able to boost herself up on shaky arms and make her way back to her room, this time not caring how stupid her hops looked.
Lying back down on the bed, she curled onto her side.
And that’s when she finally let the tears fall.