He was always too big, too bright for this town.
But somehow, he ended up chained to Marnie. For a minute, at least.
Smile refreshed, I turned to her with her order, setting the coffee and pie on the counter between us. “Anything else?”
She picked up her fork and sectioned off a piece, bringing it to her perfect lips. Marnie was a stunner, the all-American, cheerleading, apple pie sort. The kind of girl no one refused, a trait bred into her by her father and her family’s position. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that the only person who’d ever told her no was Sebastian, the one person she wanted to hear yes from.
See? Be nice. She loves Seb.
Another part of me snorted. Get in line, sister.
“It’s cold,” she said flatly and pushed it in my direction.
“You know what? Let me get you a new one. On the house.”
Her eyes narrowed a tick. “How was the party last night?”
There it is. “Fine. You know how it is. The usual suspects.”
“Bastian knows how to throw a party, though. Doesn’t he?”
It’s a trap! I heard in General Ackbar’s voice in my head. “Sure,” I answered noncommittally. “Let me get that pie—”
“We’re still married, you know.”
I couldn’t hang on to the smile. “I do know.”
“Just wanted to make sure. I’d hate for you to get caught in the rumor mill over fucking a married man.”
She took a sip of her coffee, and I masked my shock at her dropping an eff with Pastor Coleburn within earshot.
“Duly noted.” Mercifully, Aggie made it back behind the counter. “Hey, Ag—Marnie here needs a piping hot piece of pie, if you’d please? My shift’s over.”
“My pleasure,” Aggie said with a smile as fake as mine, using her meaningless server phrase of choice on the worst sort of asshole to ever eat pie.
“Thanks,” I answered sweetly. “You have yourself a good day, Marnie, all right? I’ll let Seb know you stopped in.”
The look on her face was priceless. That mixture of shock, offense, and sheer fury was a heady concoction indeed.
Before she could respond, I turned on my heel and headed for the back, my hands shaking as I dumped a perfectly good piece of pie in the trash. When I made it to the lockers next to the office, Bettie appeared in the doorframe and leaned against the threshold.
“Fuck her,” Bettie said. “Marnie Mitchell has been a spoiled brat since she splashed head-first into this world. So when you leave here, it’ll be with a smile on your face and your chin high. She doesn’t deserve anything more than your pity. Because for all she has, she’ll never get what she wants. But you? You, Presley Hale, can have the whole wide world, if you ask nice.”
I relaxed, a laugh rolling out of me. “I’ll start with Lindenbach, if that’s all right.”
“Like I said”—she pushed off the doorframe—“all you gotta do is ask.”
“Thanks, Bettie.”
“Any time, kiddo. Now go get to necking with the Vargas boy while you can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered and headed out the front door to find him.
6
Little Darlin'
SEBASTIAN
Sun dappled the grass stretched out before me, the heat sticky and the breeze welcomed as I sat on a park bench waiting for Presley’s shift to end.
I was seated far enough from the people at the park to watch them unobstructed, mostly families with kids brave enough to risk scalding their asses on the playground equipment, along with a few childless townies who’d wandered in to enjoy a little bit of outdoors.
One of the kids had caught my attention—a little boy had been fearlessly running laps on the equipment from the monkey bars to the zip line, up the stairs, down the slide, and around to do it again, intermittently screaming Ninja Warrior! The woman I assumed was his mother had a book in her lap and seemed to be enjoying a quiet moment to herself.
I couldn’t stop chuckling, occasionally tossing popcorn into my mouth while I counted his laps.
He was on twelve. I wondered how many he could stand before he collapsed, though he showed no signs of stopping. He’d sleep like a baby tonight.
When I realized that was probably what his mother intended, I commended her ingenuity.
Sometimes I wondered what it’d be like to have kids. I imagined being married to someone I didn’t fight with and who didn’t fight me. Who I didn’t want to change and who loved me for who I was. I’d picture afternoons like this, a couple of genetic replicas running around screaming Ninja Warrior! Tiny hugs, bedtime stories. Christmas mornings and Fourth of July fireworks.
And inevitably, I’d think about watching those children grow up, only to wither away from chemotherapy or worse.
The number of funerals I’d imagined in my lifetime was obscene.
I’d never really thought about death until Mom got sick the first time. I was seventeen, right at the end of junior year. When Presley made it to town that summer, I nearly collapsed into her after holding it together for weeks. She was my safe space, the place I knew I could be scared and vulnerable and honest. I’d been cut off at the knees, and her presence was the only thing keeping me standing most days. She knew every thought, every fear. Helped me carry that burden with the selfless care of a saint—a smart-mouthed saint who handled pain with a healthy dose of levity, but who was always prepared to be quiet and soften in order to take the impact of my pain.
I don’t know how I would have survived without her.
It was that summer that I decided I couldn’t—wouldn’t—have children. As impossible as it was to cope with Mom’s illness, the thought of doing this for a child—my child, a child I’d purposely brought into the world, a child whose safety and well-being were my one and only job—was unconscionable.
And thus, a line was drawn between what I wanted and what I was afraid of. In this, I had some amount of control. So the decision was made. As much as I wanted to be a father, I didn’t want to have children. Because knowing what I knew, having children felt selfish. Frivolous. Morally and ethically wrong.
So I tried to do what was right whether it was what I wanted or not.
But soon I’d be away from here, in a country where I had far bigger concerns than genetics. So many people in this world needed help, and I had nothing holding me back. My family was finally healthy and safe. The family business was booming. With the impending end of mine and Marnie’s marriage, I was untethered, free to go anywhere I pleased.
I wanted to go where I was needed. And Lindenbach didn’t need me that bad.
I caught a flash of pink in my periphery and turned to the sight of Presley walking my way.
How she’d gotten more beautiful as we aged was beyond me. Her face longer, slimmer, her jaw the perfect shape to fit in my palm. Her lips wider, a slighter version of the natural pout she used to wear. That pout was always smiling, her lips curled up at the corners even in their resting state. How many nights had I dreamed of her? She was everything I’d ever wanted, though I’d made peace with never having her long ago. When I did have her for a moment, I took advantage of every second I was given.