Salt of the earth? The same man who refuses to drink any brand other than Fiji water?
Jess’ eyes get as big as saucers while my face turns beet red.
“No,” Mona finally says, possibly saving us all.
“Why not?” Jules queries.
I’m not worried. This is where Mona shines. She will concoct some diabolical reason that Jules will never see coming. This is where all those strange stories Mona told me over the years will finally come in handy.
“Because…” She squints, makes a pensive face. “Because he’s not her type.”
I stare and wait. She’s just getting warmed up. Just getting started. She’s going to pull one out of a hat now…
“Because he’s not her type?” Jules repeats. “Who gives a shit? He’s a famous movie star. She’s a nobody. I can make it work.” She eyeballs me. “Get her cleaned up.”
I turn to Mona and mutter, “That’s the best you can do?”
“She makes me nervous.”
We’re doomed.
“Aid,” I say, glancing at Aidan, “you know I love you, but I can’t do this.” I turn back to Jules. “This isn’t going to work. Tell them the truth or I will. Aidan and I are friends. I am sleeping with his brother.”
“I knew it!” Mona yelps.
“Goddammit!” Jules shouts. “Now I have to deal with a love triangle?”
“No, no love triangle. It’s a straight love line. From me to Shane.”
Jules looks around, her mouth pursing. “Where is Shane?”
“Hello?” I call out upon entering the guesthouse.
“In here,” Shane answers.
Something’s up; I can feel it. And it’s not a good thing. With my heart lodged in my throat, I walk to the bedroom and find him there. He’s in the middle of dumping drawers of clothing on to the bed. He’s moving so quickly that if I didn’t know better, I would think he’s on the run from the feds.
“I have to go,” he says in a low voice. He crosses the bedroom and grabs the unmentionables drawer. T-shirts, underwear, socks. It all gets dumped into a messy heap. Red flags everywhere. They are flying high right now. My pulse races and my stomach flip-flops.
Then he starts grabbing clothing out of the closet and stuffing it in his army green duffel bag. “The publisher wants me in London and Geneva, maybe Rome. London for an interview and the other two for signing.”
Nervously, I shift from foot to foot and cram my hands into the back pockets of my shorts to stop them from fidgeting.
Right. Of course. I knew this day was coming. It was only a matter of time before the bear was on the move again.
I nod over and over for lack of a better response. “Okay, yeah. About that nonsense with the press––you know nothing happened. That I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
He must hear it in my voice because he suddenly stops and glances up. His face softens. He reaches out for me, but I step back out of his grasp. I can’t have him touch me now. If I let him touch me, I will crumble and turn into the pathetic sniveling person that I refuse to be to him.
“I’m okay. Really.”
The stiff smile I give him doesn’t work, not even a little bit. If he had any manners, he would pretend to believe the grotesque lie I just told him, but no. His eyes remain fixed on me, filling up by the second with compassion.
It makes me want to scream. I don’t need his pity. I need him to love me the way I love him. Like he can’t exist without me because we share one heart that pumps blood and oxygen to both our bodies. He’s going to take our heart with him to London and kill me in the process.
“I have to go,” he repeats, his voice dripping in guilt.
“I know you do.”
“I’ll be back soon,” he says, attention trained on the bag he’s zipping up.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He grabs the bag, brushing past me without hesitation, without a kiss. He makes it to the door and stops. “Come with me.”
He doesn’t mean it and I wouldn’t even if he did. This place is me. This is where I belong.
“I’m needed here. The animals. Mona. I’m right where I want to be.” I manage to get every word out without crying, a calmness coming over me that I have desperately missed these last few years. I should thank him for helping me reclaim it. There’s the bright side.
His head drops. “I’ll call you,” he says. Not my name. Not how he feels. An impersonal, throwaway, nothing of a goodbye.
He walks out the door and doesn’t look back.
Chapter 20
“Hear anything?” Mona asks from across the kitchen table.
I take a slow sip of my coffee and reach across the table for the soft butter. “Nope,” I answer whilst slapping a thick layer on my english muffin.
“You’re gonna hear from him,” the silver mustachioed man sitting on Mona’s left says. Sigh. You know it’s bad when you’re getting pep talks from Darby, the quietest man in the universe.
“Look, guys, I appreciate what you’re doing. But you can stop doing it now.”
Shane has been gone for two months and it’s been hard on everyone. Two months without a word. I can only assume we’re done and he doesn’t know how to tell me. The lovers can’t even be openly in love because they feel bad for me. It’s really not fair to them…. or to me.
Not gonna lie, I’m trying to push through, but my entire body aches for him. I think of him every day: morning, noon, and night. I miss him so much I can barely breath sometimes. It’s like all of a sudden living in high altitude without having had the chance to become acclimated.
Don’t get me wrong, there are days I dream about throwing my cowboy boots at his head. Or running him over with the tractor. Or making a wax doll of him and sticking pins in it. But despite him leaving me high and dry, the love I have for him hasn’t diminished at all. Not even a little. Love is a cruel master.
I will always be in Shane’s corner; that’s what you do for the ones you love. But I won’t pine and I won’t wait. I still want a big family. I’m not ready to give up on that dream. And Mona was right, Shane and Aidan pushed me out of my rut. If nothing else, I will always be grateful to both of them for that.
“You two do not have to live on eggshells for me. It’s totally fine. I am fine. I’ve been through worse. Celebrate your love. Smile, rejoice. Be merry. I will not take it as a personal insult if you’re openly overjoyed.”
I’m thrilled for Mona. I really am. I couldn’t be any happier for her. Nobody deserves it more. I really like Darby. I’m even happy to have his quiet company. It’s nice to have a man living on the ranch with us.
They share a look, the guilt splashed all over their faces. “We need to tell you something, sweetie,” Mona says, visibly uncomfortable at the prospect.
“What?” I ask, terrified it’s more bad news. I can’t handle any more.
“We’re engaged.” Mona holds up her left hand, her purple polish catching the light, and spins a simple silver band around. The action exposes a small round diamond. I take one look at it and burst into tears.