It never came.
The good news is I got a lot of work done at Celia’s place. I wrapped and packed fragile items and took a box to the local Goodwill. I’m still amazed at how little she held on to her past. I couldn’t find a single photo of anyone in our family, not even a keepsake like the first-place prize she won at the pie-eating contest when we were twelve. Everyone in town was amazed someone so small could eat so much. It was a crowning moment for Celia. I was proud to watch it all from the sidelines.
Clearly our memories mean more to me than they do to her.
I wrap the Mexican-style blanket tighter around my shoulders.
Realistically I’ve got a few more days of packing and then I’ll be done.
That’s all Aden has to do is ignore me for that little amount of time and sooner than he even realizes I’ll disappear from his life forever.
A door to one of the cottages slams shut and it gets my attention. I turn and blanch when I see Brice headed my way. Trying my hardest to smile through the pain in my chest, I manage to slide my Celia mask into place.
The fact that it’s getting easier and easier should worry me more than it does.
“Hey, I saw you standing out here alone and thought I’d come keep you company.” His grin is a little shaky and he seems to lack the confidence he had the first night we met.
“Yeah, I’m just soaking up the last few sunsets before I head back.” I’m a little surprised he’s keeping a good foot of space between us, maybe the inner Sawyer is showing through more than I thought and he’s decided Celia’s not his type.
He stares ahead at the waves, then peeks over at me from the corner of his eye. “You and Sergeant Psycho, huh?”
I jerk my gaze to his.
“It’s no secret. I saw him leaving your place early in the morning.”
“Oh . . .” I go back to staring out at the ocean, trying desperately to figure out how Celia would respond in this situation. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Brice isn’t unfazed by my . . . er. . . . Celia being with Aden, so what does that mean?
“It’s cool, I mean, it’s not cool, but I understand. What we had wasn’t exclusive.” He sniffs, not like he’s sad, but more like he’s trying to act more unaffected than he is. “Just . . . be careful, okay?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Aden and I are just fooling around.” I want to bite back the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Fooling around? What we have is so much more than that, or at least, it is to me.
He shrugs, not looking completely convinced, but goes back to studying the ocean as silence stretches between us. After a couple of minutes, he blows out a breath. “If you’re here on the Fourth, we’ll all be down at the Breakers Bar celebrating. You bring Aden and maybe he’ll let me buy you a going-away drink.” His eyebrows are raised in a boyish way I think Celia would’ve fallen for instantly.
“I’d like that, thank you.”
He leans in and I tense, fearing he’s going to wipe all memories of Aden clean with one of his brain-scrambling kisses, but presses a soft kiss to my cheek instead. “I’ll see ya around.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away and my heart aches a little at what Celia’s lost. Maybe Brice would’ve one day been my brother-in-law. He and my sister really would have the cutest babies. I’m strangled in sadness at the thought of Cece losing her chance to be a mother, a wife, a grandmother—life is so fucking unfair.
Afraid I’m going to start crying, I turn to head back to Celia’s cottage when I see Mrs. Jones staring over at Aden’s uncle’s place.
For a split second I panic thinking she’s staring over there because Aden is there, but from a quick glance I see the place is still dark and looks just as abandoned as it did before. “Everything okay?”
She eyes Cal’s cottage, her arms shaking with the effort. “Oh, yes, hi there, I’ve been trying to call Aden, there’s something wrong with my television.”
“I haven’t seen him.”
She frowns, the wrinkles around her mouth intensifying. “Oh, dear. He’s not answering my calls.”
I try to ignore the sinking in my chest at the reason Aden wouldn’t be answering his phone and cross the few yards that separate our front steps. “Maybe I can help?”
Her white hair is curled to perfection around her face, but when she turns to look at the cottage again I see the back is completely flat, probably the result of sitting in a high-back chair. Her hand is curled around the banister, her thin skin showcasing blue protruding veins as she braces her weight as best she can. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s not a bother at all. As a matter of fact, I could use something to do.” Anything that’ll take my mind off worrying about Jenkins and obsessing over Aden’s brushoff.
She grins and struggles to get herself turned around so I hop up and loop my arm under hers for support. “Thank you.”
I push open the door with my free hand and guide the woman into the living space of the small cottage. It doesn’t look any different than the others except for the décor that speaks of a long life lived in the tiny house.
“I don’t know what happened, it just stopped working.” She pats my hand and I release her to sit in an oversized chair that’s just feet in front of an old television.
“I’m sure it’s something I can figure out.” The screen on her TV has the green, red, and blue bars on it. I pick up the remote on the food tray to the side of her chair.
She grunts as she adjusts in the well-used and sagging seat. Her eyes almost disappear under her paper-like skin. “How’s everything going over there?”
Other than the fact that I’m living my sister’s life and screwing everything up by falling for a guy who doesn’t know who I really am? “Pretty good.”
“I don’t mean to pry.” She waves me off. “Mind your own business, Mary.”
“It’s all right. I don’t mind.” I try not to stare, but can smell the sickly-sweet stench of rotting food from her messy kitchen. “Mary?” I kneel down to look her in the eye. “I’m trying to kill some time and I’d be happy to clean up a little around here if you’d be okay with that?”
Her blue eyes twinkle as if my offer is making her emotional, but there’s a hint of embarrassment there too. “That’s not necessary. You have more important things to do than tidy up after an old woman.”
“I really don’t. What I do have is a killer sense for organization and cleaning is my drug of choice.” I turn toward the TV and click through the channels manually, getting snow and static on every one. “You’d be doing me a huge favor.”
“That’s sweet, but you— Oh! You fixed it!” She grasps the remote and hits the buttons with a bony finger.