“You didn’t let me study much last night,” I reply, grinning at her backside. “But I think I aced it anyway.”
Rena turns and smiles so wide it makes her eyes crinkle. “Think I can tackle shepherd’s pie?” She holds up a bag of potatoes and a package of ground beef.
I nod, admiring the way her top falls off one shoulder, exposing her slender collarbone. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”
Rena’s face lights up. “You have so much confidence in me.” She leans over the counter to peck me on the lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Promise you’ll love me forever.”
This is where the egregious lie began unraveling. Why I’ll never make a promise. Why I know Rena will never make a promise she can’t keep.
“Promise,” I say.
I shake the memory away and ask Turner what he wants for dinner.
“Breakfast for dinner!” he calls down the hallway. Sighing, I’m relieved. Something that takes no bandwidth. He runs into the kitchen and climbs a barstool to sit in front of me. “Will you let me help like Maeve does?”
Forcing a smile, I slide the large measuring cup and the pancake mix in front of him.
Turner’s eyes go wide. “You’re letting me pour? I don’t know, Daddy, do you think I can do it?”
My stomach sinks, and I lose my breath. “Of course you can. Even if you spill, it’s not the end of the world.”
His smile is all the reassurance I need in the moment. I can’t be Rena’s savior—she’s right. I can save my son, though.
Chapter 7
Maeve
“I’ve gained weight, but my God, I didn’t think I gained this much,” I say, spinning so Aspen can finish zipping up the dress.
“Stress eating. It’s what I do bi-yearly for no real reason other than it’s the holidays and my family sucks,” she says. “Suck it in more, Maeve. Once we get it on, you’re going to look like Giselle during fashion week.”
“What happens when I take it off? That’s if I can even get it off!”
We’re in my large closet and Aspen is helping me get ready for the art show. Lincoln should be on his way here to pick me up. This is supposed to be fun. I’m going to have a good time. Nothing bad is going to happen. This is my new mantra, except I don’t know if I’m going to be okay. I might get hijacked while I’m in the bathroom, never to be seen or heard from again. Talk about being on edge.
“I knew I was going to wear this gown as soon as I found out about the show. I didn’t really think much about it after that. I should have tried it on. Ugh.” The inch is zipped and I spin.
Aspen looks at her handiwork. “You’re going to unfurl like a sausage out of casing when you take it off. I’d actually pay good money to see it. It’s probably pretty aesthetically pleasing.”
I perch my hands on my hips and level her with a look. “You’re not helping.”
She nods, pursing her lips. “You look hot though. No one will know you’re wearing a two when you need a four. Unless, you know, Lincoln takes the dress off at the end of the night and gets to see the… unfurling in person. You really can’t tell it’s tight.”
“That is a horrifying way to put it, and no, we won’t be doing anything naked tonight. He’s not fully healed yet.” I lie.
Am I supposed to tell her, ‘Oh, well, I might disappear into the cartel soon and don’t want to make my absence that much harder, so I’m distancing myself from him as much as I can?’ It’s hard enough handling Lincoln when I’m over there so much. I can’t break away from them, no matter how hard I try and even knowing they will be better off without me. A clean break is most practical, but my damn heart is too far gone. I want them in any capacity that I can have them while still keeping an arm’s length.
“How is he driving if he isn’t healed enough to grease you up like a pig and get you out of this dress?”
I grab a clutch from a shelf behind her. “You’ve been with the rancher long enough to speak like a farmer, Aspen. I’ll assume everything is going well, and no pigs are being greased tonight. It’s, ah, well, it’s complicated, I guess. Driving isn’t the same thing as having a sex life.” A sex life with Lincoln is more aggressive than any kind of driving during rush hour. “The dress doesn’t feel that tight anymore. Maybe it was made to fit like this.” I shift my arms around.
It’s a one-shouldered, black, mermaid gown covered in dark sequins. I put on the pumps before I got into the dress so I wouldn’t have to bend over, and the second I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror, I know Lincoln isn’t going to let this night end without the dress unfurling. It’s not a vain assumption, when I know, in fact, it’s truth.
Sighing, I fix a bobby pin holding my hair into structured waves and exit into the living room. Chonk stays right beside me and then starts barking his head off. The doorbell echoes, a shrill noise. I pull out my phone to check the camera footage and see Lincoln standing at my door in a tux, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. He flashes a cheesy grin into the camera, and my heart skips a beat. I want to be the pig being greased. That’s what happens when I see him. The draw is immediate, effortless, and potent. My heart hammers as he uses his key to let himself in. He only rings the bell to announce his presence so as not to scare me… and Chonk.
I wait in the living room for Lincoln to ascend the stairs, trying to catch my breath, preparing myself for the sight of him in the flesh. He turns to seek me out when the staircase opens and he makes a full stop when his gaze lands on mine. His eyes bug out of his head.
“Maeve. Maeve,” he stammers. “You look stunning.”