God, the constant reminder of the fake marriage is like a thorn getting wedged into me deeper and deeper. And no, I didn’t know any of that.
Full of mystery, indeed.
“I needed a replacement who was untraceable,” Preston explains to both of us, but he’s looking at me. “Someone perceptive, observant, and smart. Someone who needed a job, who could seamlessly take over for me.” He glances at Jay. “You qualified, and you weren’t a client, so I knew there wouldn’t be a paper trail leading from you to me.”
Jay drums his fingers on his thighs. “In case you needed a favor from me again, right?”
Keeping his eyes on Jay, Preston drapes an arm over my shoulders to pull me closer. “The favor exchange seems to be working out. For two guys who don’t know each other well, we make a good team.”
“I can’t argue that, but why don’t we cut the shit, Ethan?” Jay gets to the point. “Why are you here?”
Preston blows out a breath. “We need a place to lay low. Just for a day or two.”
“What kind of trouble are you in?”
Laying it all out on the table, Preston admits, “The kind where I’m being hunted by the law. The mafia might be on our tail soon, too.”
“Fuck, man. What the hell did you do?”
“It’s me,” I chime in quietly. “He’s… helping me out of a situation.”
Jay gives me a sympathetic look, braces his elbows on his knees, and spears Preston with a serious stare. “Listen. With all due respect, I can’t have you bringing this shit to my house. I have a fiancée and a son. When you gave me my job, you never said it included putting my family in danger.”
“You’re right,” Preston sighs, holding up his hands. “I get it. How about a few hours? I’ve got a van stored in the next town over.” He hitches a thumb at me. “Can she hang out here while I go switch out my vehicle?”
“You’re leaving me?” My head whips toward him. “You can’t. I won’t stay here without you.”
Tender hands frame my worried face. “You have to, baby. It’ll only be an hour.”
“What if you don’t come back? What if they catch you and I never see you again?”
“Not gonna happen.”
I wish I could be that confident.
While my thoughts are running through worst-case scenarios, Preston moves into my personal space. Even though he’s not wearing leather anymore, he still smells like it. The pleasant scent mixed with citrus and spice surrounds me as his face gets close to mine. He releases my braid from the tie, and loose waves fall down my back as he weaves his fingers through it. Then he tilts my chin up.
He kisses me.
And my worries scatter.
This kiss is different from the one before. Less wild. More patient.
Slow and steady.
A promise.
Maybe we should communicate like this from now on. Lips and tongues are good for more than speaking.
As Preston licks his way into my mouth, my hands go to his chest. My fingers slip inside the suit jacket. His skin is warm through the fabric of his shirt, and underneath the cotton, I can feel the texture of coarse hair on his body.
Before I can fumble with the buttons keeping me from getting skin on skin, Preston turns his head, breaking the kiss.
Panting, he buries his face in my hair. “I’ll come back, okay? Remember, nothing could keep me from you.”
Dumbly, I just nod.
Maybe his plan was to kiss the sense out of me because, before I know it, he’s leaving through the front door. I’m numb as I watch the car speed away from the curb, but as soon as it’s out of sight, a feeling of deep loss seeps in.
I’m vaguely aware that Jay has vacated the room—probably because he didn’t want to stick around to watch Preston and me get all smoochy.
Without even realizing that I’m doing it, I’m digging under my big belly suit and getting into my fanny pack. The wads of cash almost bust out when I open it, but I don’t want the money.
I find the pills and fish out a half a tablet.
Hesitating, I stare at it in my palm. I never take my medicine during the day, and I know I shouldn’t now. With the new developments, I have no idea how long it will take to get settled somewhere.
I won’t take it.
Putting it back, I decide to suffer through my anxiety as I sit and wait for Preston to return.
I’ve never had the chance to realize how socially awkward I am until now. And dude, it’s bad.
Is this what my mom meant when she said I wasn’t fit for society?
I wasn’t left alone in the living room for long after Preston left. While Jay checked on his napping son, his fiancée Casey came home from work. When she’d asked me my name, I dutifully replied, “Sara,” then promptly sneezed her in face.
So.
That’s how my first potential female friendship is going down.
Like a sinking ship.
I’m not sure if I prefer the uncomfortable silence that occurred during the seconds when it was just Jay and me, or the curious questions Casey keeps firing my way.
To make matters worse, Jay’s hovering around in the kitchen behind me, which means there’s more than one witness to this shitshow.
“How did you and Ethan meet?” Casey chirps from across the dining table. Such an innocent thing to ask.
“Online.” That’s the simplest honest explanation I can come up with, and I decide to eat more of my food, because if my mouth is full, I can’t talk.
Fortunately, my awkwardness hasn’t impaired my appetite. I don’t know what it is about traveling, but I’m so fucking hungry.
I take another bite of the juicy burger and chase it down with some greasy fries. Luckily for me, Casey works at a diner and gets a hefty discount. The food I’m eating was intended for Jay, but as soon as Casey saw my stomach, she insisted I eat his portion. Like a gentleman, he graciously agreed.
I’d feel worse about taking the guy’s dinner if it didn’t taste so damn good.
Some mustard drops onto my belly, and I wipe at it with a paper napkin. My mom would have a fit if I was this messy at her table. In our house, we never eat with our hands. Meals are always a rigid affair, with designated utensils, squared shoulders, and straight backs.
“I guess people are getting into internet dating younger and younger these days,” Casey responds happily, seeming unaffected by my bad table manners as she gets up to wet a kitchen rag for me.
She hasn’t asked how old I am, and I’m glad. Because I’m not even sure how to answer that. Twelve hours ago, I thought I was eighteen. Really, I’m a year older.
Then there’s my new identity. How old is Sara Clare supposed to be again? I have no idea how the hell Preston keeps track of all this crap.
Due to my lack of experience with people, I’m not great at estimating age, but Casey doesn’t appear to be much older than me. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her face is youthful. There’s a hint of seriousness in her blue eyes, like she’s either an old soul or she’s been through the wringer.
Maybe Casey’s seen some shit.
I wonder if my eyes look like that. Can people tell I’m carrying a lifelong burden?
“Here you go.”