Reckless (36 page)

Z
ane

“
V
ery nice
.” I drop a box – gently – by the front door of the Palm Beach condo. This place is spic and span, literally unlived in, and fancy as hell. Everything’s white and shiny and futuristic. When I’m seventy-five, I hope to be half as cool as Rue Rosewood.

“Shall we show ourselves around?” Delilah takes my hand and leads me from room to room, flicking on lights and checking out closets.

“Why so many bedrooms?” I ask after the third one.

Delilah stops in the hall, turning to look at me. “Rue’s passing the condo on to me and my siblings. She wants us to use it as a kind of shared vacation home, and she wanted extra bedrooms so we can bring our own families someday.”

Her voice tapers off.

“How funny would it be if . . .” She stops, refusing to finish her thought. “Never mind. That’s insane. It would never happen.”

Standing across from her, getting lost in her warm brown eyes, I try to picture an older version of this beautiful woman, another man’s ring on her finger, her belly swollen and a couple small children running up and down these halls.

My chest tightens.

Someday Delilah Rosewood will be married to some asshole who doesn’t deserve her, and I’m just going to be some summer fling. A distant memory, growing more faded with every new and exciting milestone Delilah reaches in her life.

It’s been well over a month since Delilah freaked out in my kitchen, declaring her heart confused and wondering what happens after this. She hasn’t said a word since. Not a single peep. She doesn’t complain or ask questions or muse about the future when she’s lying naked and breathless in my arms.

“I’m going to check out the kitchen.” She bites her lip, pointing down the hall, and within seconds she’s sauntering off, humming a quiet tune under her breath.

I follow, standing aside and watching her pull open drawers and examine appliances.

For the last five weeks, she’s been playing the part of the perfect fuck buddy. Sweet. Sassy. String-free.

And me? I’ve been playing the part of the man, secretly and foolishly falling more in love every time I see her.

The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken.

Needing
to be spoken.

L
ove
.

You.

I clear my throat, my pulse racing and my vision growing blurry. It’s been years since I’ve said these words, and if I’m going to say them, I want her to hear them here and now. I don’t want to wait or I might chicken out.

“Delilah, I . . .” I pull in a deep breath, and the ground beneath me feels a little unsteady, but in the most amazing of ways.

Delilah screams and jumps a good foot or two off the ground, the bloodcurdling pierce sending a dull ache to my eardrums. Scrambling, she dives into my arms, taking a fistful of my shirt and pulling me toward the door.

“There’s a mouse, there’s a mouse, there’s a mouse, there’s a mouse . . .” she repeats over and over until we’re outside. Delilah shakes and shudders, sticking her tongue out as I take the keys and lock the door. “How can there be a mouse in there? It’s a brand new condo!”

“There’s an empty field across the street. It’s new construction. It happens,” I say.

“I don’t know how you can be so calm.” Her entire body convulses again, and she sticks out her tongue like she’s about to gag.

“Come on, let’s get back on the road before it gets too late,” I say.

Stupid mouse.

D
elilah

T
wo days
.

Forty-eight hours from now, I’ll be on a plane, flying home to Rixton Falls, and all I can think about is how much fun I’ve been having here and how much I want to stay.

“I can’t believe you’re back.” I watch my sister get ready for the party tonight. Weston flew her down here to be his date. Tomorrow she’s going to help Rue with a few things, and Monday she’ll fly back home with me. “I mean, I can believe it because . . . Weston.”

Daphne rolls her eyes with a giant smile on her face. “We’ve been texting and talking ever since I left. He’s so nice, Del.”

“I know he is.”

“It’s like, we waste so much time and energy going after assholes and douche bags and the nice guys never get the credit they deserve.” Daphne retrieves her mascara and bevels the wand against her curly lashes. “Screw French men. Fuck hipsters. I’m all about the nice guys.”

“Glad to hear you’re officially retiring from jerks.”

“How are things with you and Zane? Any good stories for me?” She flashes me a wink-wink.

I perch on the closed-lid toilet and rest my elbows on my knees. “I did exactly what you said, Daph. I embraced the complicated.”

“And?”

“And everything . . . oddly worked out.” I shrug.

She spins to face me, lifting her left brow. “Really? I mean, that’s good.”

“The complicated is still there,” I say. “Believe me. We just don’t talk about it.”

“Okay, so you’re leaving in two days. Have you two talked about
that
?”

“Nope.”

My sister makes a pinched face. “So you’re just going to hang out one last time and then hop on a plane and never see him again?”

“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. There’s no need for some big, productive, emotional farewell.”

“Yeah, but you should at least discuss how you’re going to handle future contact. Is the door always open? Will there be visits? Will you keep in touch? That sort of thing.”

I shake my head. “I’m embracing complicated right up to the very end, and I’m seeing it through. Besides, Zane doesn’t like to talk about the past or the future. I learned that very quickly.”

“Nice. Got to respect a man who can live in the present. It’s not easy.”

Daphne exits the bathroom and tiptoes back to her room where a slinky peach and gold evening gown is lying across the foot of her bed. She steps into it, zipping up the back, and checks her reflection in a nearby Cheval mirror. The gold flecks in the dress play off her tanned skin and pops next to her platinum hair.

“You look like a Barbie princess,” I say.

“In a good way?”

“Of course.”

Daphne runs her palms down her sides. “I just hope it’s not too much. I don’t want to embarrass Weston.”

My jaw hangs. “Embarrass him? Sweetie, he’s going to be showing you off every chance he gets. All eyes will be on you tonight, believe that. And he’s going to be strutting around like the proudest peacock in the bunch.”

Daphne giggles. “I can’t picture Weston
strutting
. . . but okay.”

The doorbell chimes by the time my sister puts the finishing touches on her low chignon, and my heart leaps with empathetic excitement. Up until now, I didn’t care that I couldn’t go with Zane to the party, but now I’m feeling a little bummed.

“You’re going to have a blast tonight,” I say, escorting her to the front door where Weston stands in an all-black tuxedo.

His eyes light when he sees her.

“Hi.” She takes sweet, ginger steps toward him.

Weston’s gaze is fixed on her. I don’t think he even realizes Rue and I are standing off to the side. He’s completely enchanted, mesmerized by her.

Rue rests her palm over her heart, reaching for me with her other hand. She gives me a good squeeze, and I nod. We’re witnessing something special.

This is more than a summer fling.

“Okay, we’re leaving now.” Daphne gives us a wave, slipping her hand into Weston’s. “Don’t wait up.”

I turn to Aunt Rue, who’s also dressed to the nines. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Last minute hot date.” She winks.

“But you’re moving tomorrow?” I fold my arms, smirking, amused at her audacity.

“So? He’s well aware.” Rue shrugs. “And if he wants me, he’ll know where to find me.”

Z
ane

“
K
indly loosen your grip
,” I say into Carissa’s ear, keeping my voice low and a smile on my face. “I wasn’t aware that coming here tonight with you meant you’d be physically attached to me at all times.”

We’ve been here forty-minutes already and so far the only time she’s released me was when I went to take a piss, and I didn’t even have to go. I just needed a breather.

“There’s my beautiful daughter!” Carissa’s mother, Caitlyn Forbes, floats toward us, arms outstretched and Southern drawl in full force. “My goodness, you look radiant, Carissa. And Zane, you look very handsome. I’m sure Carissa dressed you from head to toe. She’s always liked to play dress up with all her boyfriends.”

Boyfriends?

“Mother.” Carissa pretends to be annoyed. “Zane dressed himself tonight actually.”

“Well, my, my.” Her mother pats my hand, giving me a side-grin. “You must know how to stand your ground with this one. I’d love to talk to you later, maybe get some pointers from you. She’s been steamrolling her father and me since the day she was born.”

Carissa’s father passes through a group of guests, saying hello before taking his place beside his wife.

“Don’t these two look adorable?” Caitlyn muses. “I could just eat them up. Picture perfect. Oh. That reminds me. I should take a picture of them.”

“No,” I say.

Carissa shoots me a look, and Caitlyn wears a quizzical leer.

“I beg your pardon?” Caitlyn asks.

Mr. Forbes gives me a dirty look, a notch beyond the one he gave me last time we were this close to one another.

“I’m just not into pictures,” I say.

“This would be for our family albums,” she says. “Caitlyn’s our only daughter. We just like to document everything. Goodness, I think I’ve saved every school photo, all her baby teeth, and every last Barbie doll.”

“Come on, baby. No one will see these but our family.” Carissa massages the underside of my arm, cocking her head sideways and laying on a sweet smile as her parents watch. “It would make Mama so happy.”

Mr. Forbes clears his throat, giving me the evil eye, and then his gaze passes through me, landing on the far side of the room where their son Taylor stands by the bar, schmoozing a few of the players. I watch him hand over his card.

Taylor fucking Forbes.

Not only is he a notorious douche bag and the brother of my criminally insane stalker, he also once tried to swipe Mirabelle out from under me, telling her she deserved better than filthy scum like me. He’ll be forever on my shit list because of that.

The sad thing is, had she run off with Taylor, she wouldn’t be spending the rest of her life in isolation in some assisted care facility.

Life’s a fucking bitch sometimes.

The day I saw him leaving Rue’s, I shoulder-checked him on the sidewalk and told him Delilah was mine despite the fact that she very much wasn’t. Maybe I was skating by on arrogance and charm at that point, but deep down, a baser part of me knew something else was brewing.

“Come on, baby,” Carissa coos into my ear. “Let’s refill our drinks. Be a gent and order me a lemon drop martini, will you?”

I’m distracted, scanning the room for some kind of clock so I can see how many more hours I have left in literal hell, and when I turn around, Carissa’s standing before me, rising on her toes and bringing her mouth to mine for a lingering, closed-lip kiss.

By the time I realize what just happened, the first thing I do is glance around the room to make sure nobody saw. There’s a handful of photographers here with press passes, and the last thing I need is the immortalization of this unwanted kiss with a single photo.

“Zane?” A woman’s voice calls me from behind.

I turn on my heel, instantly recognizing Daphne Rosewood. Weston stands behind her, giving me the kind of concerned look you never want to see on the face of your best friend.

“I’m confused . . .” Daphne cocks her head, her gaze pointing at Carissa, who’s busy talking to someone yet still takes the time to slip her arms around my waist from behind.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I say under my breath. “I can explain.”

“Save it.” Daphne’s normally sweet demeanor darkens and her brows meet. “And stay the hell away from my sister.”

“Daphne,” I call out as she walks off. “Weston.”

They’re long gone, and I’m stuck here with this raven-haired paperweight in a dress ironically better suited for an angel.

I can’t breathe.

Gripping Carissa’s hands, I shove them off and move away from her hold.

“Hey.” She pouts. I storm off. “Where are you going?”

“Give me one goddamned minute to myself.” I yell at her, voice booming so loud it hurts my own ears. “God, I can’t breathe with you clinging onto me like this.”

Carissa’s bottom lip trembles, her eyes growing glassy as her father comes to her side.

And just like that . . .

I’m fucked.

D
elilah

“
M
orning
, sunshine.” I brew a pot of coffee as my sister stumbles into the kitchen Sunday morning.

It’s going to be a long day. We’ve got a few more things to pack before the big furniture movers come. Somewhere along the line, I was fortunately able to convince Rue I wasn’t capable of moving her china cabinet, king-sized bed, or extra-tall dresser.

“How was the party? Tell me all about it.” I grab two mugs from the cupboard and glance at the clock. If we can finish in the next couple of hours, that should still give me the better part of a day to spend with Zane. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend, my head and heart waging war about the things I should or shouldn’t say tonight.

But I’ve overruled them both.

I’m going to go with the flow for the first time in my life and say what feels right in that moment. I won’t plan any kind of speech or silly declaration of love. Whatever happens happens, and whatever is said will be said.

If anything, I just want to end things on a high note with the door wide open. If we can at least manage that, then I’ll call this summer a success. And I’ll deal with missing him privately and personally, and hopefully, someday, I’ll be able to get over this little summer fling.

Daphne takes her coffee mug from me, her gaze shifting to avoid mine. “Thank you.”

“Have a seat,” I say. “How was the party?”

My sister clears her throat. Her baby blues mist as she looks off in the distance.

“Oh, god,” I say. “Weston. What’d he do? Did he break things off?”

I move to her side, wrapping my arms around her. Gone is the light in her eyes and the sweet cadence in her demeanor. I recognize the heartbreak in her eyes. I’ve seen it there before. She’s hurting. She’s upset.

She shakes her head before nuzzling her cheek against her shoulder. “Delilah, there’s something I have to tell you about last night.”

“What? You’re scaring me.” I suck in a breath and hold it, my body tense.

“Zane went to the party with someone else.” Her words are a near whisper.

If hearts could shatter, mine would be in a million pieces right now. I’m numb. And yet I feel everything all at once.

“Maybe it was a misunderstanding?” I blink away the tears that brim my eyes.

Daphne bites her tongue, slowly shaking her head side to side.

“When we got there, I saw him standing next to her, and she kissed him, and when I confronted him, he tried to say it wasn’t what it looked like, but she was hanging all over him. His expression, Delilah . . . the color was drained from his face. He wasn’t expecting to see me. He looked like someone who’d been caught red-handed.”

“So he lied.” My words are monotone. “He lied to me.”

Daphne places her hand over mine.

“He told me he couldn’t take me to the party because he was on some kind of restriction and he thought he’d lose his contract if he violated it,” I say, brows lifting. I let out a single dry laugh, though nothing about this is funny. “Huh. And then he went with someone else.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

I try and smile to keep the tears from falling, but one escapes anyhow, sliding down my cheek and landing on the top of my hand. “I hate myself for even wanting to know this, but I just can’t help myself . . . what did she look like?”

Daphne exhales slowly, eyes squinted. “You know, I never saw her face. They kissed, and then when he turned around, she was behind him. She had dark hair. I think. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he’s an asshole and you deserve better.”

“I just don’t get it. We spent so much time together this summer. Everything was going well. We were close. I mean, we were friends. At least I thought we were?” I rest my chin on my hand, staring ahead at a printed picture of a dairy cow hanging next to Rue’s kitchen table. She’s had that thing forever. I’m pretty sure I could reproduce it from memory if I had to. But now, every time I look at that cow, I’m going to think of this moment. “You think you know someone.”

My mind replays the last six weeks. Chicago was a major turning point for us. We shared things about each other. He opened up. We laughed. We screwed. I suppose the last few weeks he has seemed rather distant. I thought he was working? Maybe he was off with . . .
her
?

“I’m so sorry.” Daphne shakes her head. “I hated to tell you. I debated on whether or not I should since you’re leaving tomorrow. But I thought you had the right to know. And even Weston was upset. He had no idea Zane was taking a date, but to be fair, Weston wasn’t originally going to go because his brother was getting married, but the wedding got cancelled, and that’s how we ended up going, but anyway. Weston was just as shocked as I was. We didn’t stay very long after that. Maybe twenty minutes. Long enough to say hi and be seen by all the right people, and then we were gone.”

I huff. “I guess it’s not like he was my boyfriend. I mean, technically this isn’t cheating.”

“Were you exclusive?”

“I was. But clearly my efforts were one-sided.”

My phone buzzes gently from across the table, and Daphne watches with bated breath as I reach for it and slide it near. Zane’s name flashes across the lit screen.

“Speak of the devil.” I don’t think twice before tapping the red button. “No thank you.”

A few taps later and his number is officially blocked from my phone.

“I’m done,” I declare, welcoming the numbness that washes over me and reminding myself that what’s done is done, and that someday this will all be a distant memory. “I took your advice, and I embraced complicated, and it was fun for a while, but I won’t be lied to. I have more respect for myself than that.”

“Good for you.”

I stand up, taking a sip of my coffee before shoving my phone in my back pocket.

“Ready to get to work?” she asks.

“Yeah. Let’s load the last of the small boxes. The furniture movers will be here around noon,” I say. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Sure?”

“Don’t tell Aunt Rue about this. I’m not in the mood for one of her lectures, and I know she’ll march over there and give him the what-for, and I just don’t want to spend my last day here dealing with any of that.”

“Won’t say a word.” Daphne slips her arm around my shoulder and we head to one of the back rooms where Rue keeps her doll collection and crystal.

“And promise me one other thing,” I say as we walk.

“Of course.”

I bite down on my trembling lip, hoping the physical pain will override the emotional. “Promise it won’t feel like this forever.”

“It won’t. It gets better. I promise.”

We stop in the hall and she wraps me in her arms. She’s a good three inches taller than me, and I bury my head in her shoulder.

“I don’t understand.” My words are muffled against her shirt.

“And you never will.” She rubs circles into my back. “All you can do is move on and try to forget.”

Our sweet summer fling has officially left a nasty taste in my mouth. I’ve spent the summer drunk on endorphins and adrenaline rushes, Oxytocin, and lust. But now it’s a toxic combination, coursing through my veins and making me sick.

I want to forget.

I want to forget everything about him.