Bliss Brothers: The Complete Series Boxed Set, page 45
My heart twists.
Leta: Not comfortable here? I’ll get another mattress
Charlie: It’s a good mattress
I can’t have this conversation via text.
Back downstairs, I slip on a pair of sandals and go out into the night.
I wouldn’t walk alone at night back in California, but here at Bliss, the biggest risk is tripping over the curb and scraping my knees. At the very edges of my senses, I can feel a nip in the air. It’s not an actual nip—more the hint of a nip—but I pull the bathrobe closer. The summer lasted longer this year. I can’t help feeling like it was for me, personally.
Less than five minutes. That’s how long it takes to get to Charlie’s, after all these years living on opposite sides of the country. My body sighs into it—that convenient distance. I wouldn’t mind if it were three minutes. Or two minutes. Or five seconds, like it was when he was in my bed.
That’s what has my heart pounding. Why did he leave? What does It’s a good mattress mean?
I go up the steps to his porch and raise my hand to knock.
“Hey.”
My lungs collapse, my knees go week, and I brace myself against the door. Oh, god, it was stupid to walk alone at night, and now—
“Are you okay?”
“Are you okay?” Charlie. It’s Charlie. He’s stood up from wherever he was lurking and stands next to me at the door. “Like,” I gasp. “What were you doing out here? I thought you were inside.”
“We were texting,” he says. “I was sitting on the porch.”
“Didn’t you see me coming? I’m in a giant white bathrobe.”
“I did, but I thought you saw me.”
I get my knees back underneath me and straighten up. “Well, I almost died of a heart attack just then.”
A wind chime rings in the far distance.
“You want to go inside, then?”
“No. I’m sweating now. If I go inside I’ll probably sweat to death.”
“Very attractive,” Charlie says.
“It would be your fault.”
He gestures to a set of wicker furniture, very similar to Mari’s. I sink down into one of the chairs with as much grace as possible. In other words, I let my ass fall into it like a puppet with the strings cut.
“I woke up and you weren’t there,” I say into the silence.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you left?”
Charlie sits down next to me and looks out at the street. No traffic rumbles by, like it would in California. It’s just…quiet. The rush of the lake is the loudest sound, followed by the breeze. “I thought there was more time.”
“Is this about the news that I got?”
He leans back in the chair. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
It rolls into me then, a wave of anger and hurt. It’s the twin of the anger and hurt I felt back then, when he wouldn’t come to California with me. When he wouldn’t even think about it. “We never talked about it because we agreed to talk about other things instead.”
“We did talk about those things. We talked about your house, and your aunt, and your studio.”
“So because we talked about those things, you left in the middle of the night.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes and I blink them back. “After the time we’ve had now?”
“The time we’ve had now doesn’t mean…it doesn’t mean things are different.” Charlie looks down at his hands. “Doesn’t it tell you that things are like they always were?”
“Were they so bad?”
“Not until the end,” he says softly. “This last week has felt like an accelerated replay of everything that happened before.”
He doesn’t have to say it—including this.
“It could be different this time,” I offer, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Charlie looks me in the eye. “Could it?”
“It could be. If you…” Even as I’m saying the words, I know it can’t be.
I know.
Charlie belongs here, with his family. And I belong where the universe sends me. I always have.
“I thought you’d take the news as a sign,” he says.
He’s right.
17
Charlie
I run and run and run.
As soon as the sky is light enough, I put on my shoes and run. I circle the club twice, and then I head out onto the main road toward Ruby Bay. When I’m done with town I come back and go down to the beach. The sun hasn’t crested the horizon by the time I’m pounding the sand, calves burning and my abs on fire.
Back and forth, back and forth. Then and now. It’s all the same.
I’m going back to California, Leta whispered last night, and then she got up and left.
I didn’t chase her.
You can’t argue with fate, or with destiny, or whatever it is she thinks directs her life. She’s always been that way, and she’s never going to change. Leta has never thought of her life as something to be directed. She’s at the whim of the universe.
To her credit, it’s worked out.
But it didn’t feel like it was working out the last time this happened.
You just don’t care, she spat at me on the front stoop of the apartment building, all the way back in that shitty college town that seemed magical because of her. You’ve never cared about anything but that fucking resort.
It’s my family business, I told her. I’ve always wanted to be part of my father’s legacy, I told her. My plans haven’t changed. It’s been the plan since day one.
Change the plan, she shouted at me, color high in her cheeks. Take a chance, for once.
I can’t.
You can.
I don’t want to.
Leta had balled up her fists, car keys dangling from one of them. You’re a weight around my neck, she said finally. You want to drag me back to the life that’s comfortable for you and pin me down.
She was wrong.
I didn’t want to pin her down. I wanted to make something new with her, out of the base I’d already built. I wanted her to put her own spin on it. I had ideas for a gallery, for a studio—I had so many ideas. The only thing I wouldn’t budge on was Bliss.
My father spent too many years of his life building it, and I’d pitched in with my own two hands. Years in the office, years on the beach, and I wanted that for myself.
Leta didn’t.
She left me behind.
I turn around to make another trip down the beach at the same time a kayak bumps up onto the shore. Huck hops out and drags it farther up, and I run toward him, arriving just in time to stop the paddle from tumbling out of the boat and into the water.
He stands up and puts his hands on his hips, looking out over Ruby Bay.
“Hell of a lake,” he says.
I look at it—really look at it—for the first time all morning. There’s cloud cover, so the water is a silvery grey, but it still sings of home.
“Is that why you came back?” I ask him, trying to catch my breath. My lungs burn. I’ve been running for at least two hours.
“Yeah. That, and the guaranteed job. Unless, you know, you’ve fucked that up for all of us.”
I glare at him. “I don’t know if you’ve been back long enough to make that joke.”
“I’ve been back long enough to know you’re losing your mind.”
“I’m not losing my mind. I’m exercising.”
“I’ve been out in the kayak for almost an hour, and you’ve been here, running up and down the beach and scowling like somebody stabbed you in the back.”
“Nobody smiles when they’re running, Huck.”
“Nobody runs on the beach like that. It’s more of a Baywatch thing.” He imitates the movement and I can’t help but laugh, even though yes, there are several knives piercing my heart at this moment.
“Is that how Katie does it?” I ask.
“Touché. Two-fucking-ché.”
I put my hands on my hips, the fatigue setting in fast now that I’ve stopped moving. It’s an awful, aching thing. I had plans to spend the day hunting down Asher, a task that should be easy given that he is our brother but will undoubtedly be very difficult because he’s always gone. “Things didn’t work out with Leta.” I tell this mostly to the sand.
“Shit.” Huck looks down at the sand with me. “I thought she moved here for you.”
This time, it’s a belly laugh that punches right through my sore abs. “Moved here for me? What gave you that idea?”
“I saw you walking with her one day. I was going up to look at some potential houses.” Huck makes a face. “I don’t know if I want to be tied down to a house here, though.”
“You should go talk to Leta about that. She knows exactly what you mean.”
“She’s got buyers’ remorse?”
“She inherited. The house at the club fell into her lap.” I huff a laugh. “She normally takes these things to be signs from the universe, but I guess she got a job offer. Not a job offer. A…partnership offer. From someone out in California.”
“Oh, please. Like the Internet doesn’t exist.”
I pick my head up and look at him. “What do you mean?”
“If she really liked you, she’d hang around. You can do partnerships with anyone, from anywhere.” Huck snorts. “Driver being out on the road all that time was such bullshit. You can pretty much do anything you need via email now. I don’t know how you guys all fail to understand this.”
“We understand it.”
Huck shoots me a skeptical look. “Sure you do.”
“I understand it.”
“Then why haven’t you set up a video call with Asher and all of us and whoever it is that gives us access to the trust stuff?”
“Because Asher won’t answer his phone, genius. I’m supposed to spend today tracking him down. So are you.”
“I’ve got boats,” Huck says.
“Right. Katie can’t handle it by herself.”
“It would be a dick move, to put myself on the schedule and then leave her hanging.” A smile quirks the corner of his mouth.
“Are you into her?”
“Are you into Leta?”
I look him in the eye. “I was.”
“Okay, then.”
“That’s not an answer.” The waves wash up beneath the kayak, tipping it from side to side.
“I never promised you an answer,” Huck says haughtily.
“Of course you didn’t.”
“Just stop her, man.”
“That’s what you kayaked over here to say? Just stop her? I don’t want to stop her. That’s what nobody gets. Even she doesn’t get that. I want her to be happy. Even if it fucking kills me.”
Huck looks at me in silence for several breaths. “That’s dope,” he says.
“God, don’t ever say that again.”
“True love,” he says.
“That’s worse.”
“I’ve got boats.” He hops back into the kayak and uses the paddle to push off. “Stop running like that, okay? You’re going to freak out the guests.”
18
Leta
The movers come early.
I called Margot Piazzi as soon as it was late enough in the day for it to be reasonable and I scheduled a meeting and then, fuck it, I hired a bunch of movers to pack up Mari’s things. I don’t need them shipped, just packed, so that whatever happens next can happen without a lot of drag from a home full of her things.
They come so early that I’m still wearing the bathrobe, and I have to run upstairs and get changed while they’re parking the truck in the driveway. Boxes included. What a deal.
The first thing out of the closet is the yellow jumpsuit Charlie sent. My heart skips a beat at the sight of it. I want something else—anything else—but the movers knock at the door and instead of digging for more clothes I put the damn thing on and go to face the day.
My carry-on is packed.
I have a tote bag with some of Mari’s personal notebooks, the most promising ones, tucked inside. Reading material for the plane and something to give my mom.
I press the house keys into the first mover’s hand at the front door. “Give these to Charlie Bliss.”
His face lights up at the name. “Oh, I will. I thought Mr. Bliss might be here today. He’s always on the lookout for jobs.”
I turn a grimace into a smile. I did name-drop the Bliss brothers when I called to book the movers. No doubt that’s why they came so fast—and four of them. I’ve already put a generous tip into an envelope, and that’s the next thing that goes into his hand. “Thank you. Just…just be sure to lock up, and give those keys to Charlie. Do you need an address?”
“Nah, we’ve got it,” the guy says. “We’re here whenever there’s a move-in or move-out. They’re loyal, the brothers.”
“They are.”
I take one last look around at the living room.
I was supposed to spend two weeks holed up in this house, going through everything and making it into my own place. Or at least preparing it to sell. Now I’m leaving it a loose end. The thought doesn’t sit well, but when you get a sign like a call from Margot Piazzi, you take it.
Even if you have a terrible lump in your throat while you do it.
I go down the steps and load my things into my rental car. Can you blame me for looking down the street once, then again, to see if Charlie’s coming? No. Nobody can blame me for that. But the street is empty, except for a guy who looks a bit younger than Charlie striding purposefully up the street.
Oh—he’s coming to talk to me.
“Hey,” he calls, waving. “Are you Leta?”
“Yeah,” I call back. “Leta Quinn.”
He comes closer. “Huck Bliss.” We shake hands. I don’t think I’ve shaken this many hands in a single week since college. I haven’t done a lot of things this many times in a single week since college.
“Huck. One of Charlie’s brothers. I think we met once, a long time ago.”
He squints at me. “I don’t remember, but honestly, it’s not because of you. It’s because I was a self-absorbed asshole in high school when my brothers were bringing their girlfriends around.”
“We only came the one time in college.”
“Oh, well, I would hardly have seen you then.” Huck grins. “Not to be gross. Charlie just…he usually has a schedule. A plan. Limited time, and all that.”
“Yeah. Limited time.”
“I just…” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, the gesture so like Charlie that it almost brings me to my knees. “I wanted to say, don’t stay away too long. I don’t know what your plans are for this…” He waves at the house. “But you’ve got a good guy here waiting for you.”
A bitter laugh bubbles up and escapes. “He won’t be waiting for me this time. I don’t think you get to flee to California twice and get let off the hook for it.”
“I’m not super sure about that. It’s not really…I mean, he’d be pissed if he knew I was here, so I won’t go into his pathetic emotional state on the beach this morning, but—” He shuts his mouth and takes a deep breath. “I think if you ever came back, he’d want you to look him up. Or…do whatever else, since I’m pretty sure you know where he lives.”
“I do. That’s true. He’s got a nice place. In college, I imagined him living in a hotel room for the rest of his life, but that’s not how it turned out at all. This one time…”
No. As easy as it is to talk to one of Charlie’s brothers, I have a plane to catch.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say finally. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”
“Maybe.” He gives me a cocky salute. “Have a good trip, Leta. I’ve got to get back on the water.”
The plane picks up speed on the runway, the acceleration pushing me back against the seat. The main thing now is to survive takeoff. I read somewhere that most crashes happen on takeoff and landing, so that’s the part that freaks me out about air travel. Not so much being suspended thousands of feet above the earth in a tiny metal tube, though…that’s not great either.
My ears pop. I look out the window at New York tilting away beneath us. A week ago I was landing. A week ago, I ran into Charlie Bliss on the sidewalk. A week ago, a wild hope sprang up in me—a second chance!
Now it’s over.
There are no third chances.
I saw his face when I told him I was going to California. I saw that stupid, heartbreaking look on his smart, handsome face.
The plane levels out.
“We’ve now reached cruising altitude,” the flight attendant says over the intercom. “We’ll begin drink service momentarily.”
Now’s a good a time as any to check out Mari’s journals, though my chest goes tight and hot as I pull out the tote bag and pick one out at random. The red one, with gold.
Maybe I’ll find out what it meant by reading these—that last entry on her list by the door. Will is all it said. I’m assuming it was a reference to her actual will, which gave me the house.
The first page of the journal is blank. I flip to the second.
I don’t know, it begins. The whole thing could be a really fucking stupid mistake, but I miss him like crazy and I’ve only known him a week. It’s even more pathetic to be writing this in a journal like I’m thirteen years old. How long has it been since I kept one of these? Years and years, but I need to make up my mind. It can’t have been an accident that he’s the one who hit my rental downtown outside Bellissimo. Though it was actually an accident, ha. Oh, god. This is so stupid.
Next entry.
Will called tonight. I didn’t give in and text him first, even though I’ve been back in California almost thirty-six hours. I’ve thought about getting on a plane to go back so many times since I landed here, but that’s INSANE. Nobody moves across the country for a person they’ve never met. I still have work here, and my job is here. Not that I couldn’t move. I’ve been a psycho about saving for retirement to the point that…I could go early. I could, if I wanted to. Help me, journal, you’re my only hope.
