The Palms, page 7
8:00 PM, The Bar at Nick and Johnnie’s
“I still think you could have told me why you left,” Lauren said as she spread hummus from the plate into of her onto some pita bread. “Because after that moment, I thought—” She broke off and looked around the half-filled restaurant, still in disbelief over the events of the last few hours. The long horseshoe shaped bar opened up to a wide covered patio that faced the street. Lauren and Trent occupied a section of the bar the deepest inside the restaurant, and they faced a large flat-screen TV that played Sports Center on mute.
“Thought I’d just left you for no reason?” Trent reached over to brush the hair out of her face and as he did, his fingers lingered on her cheek. “I guess a jerk like me would have done that, right?”
She shrugged and took a bite of the bread. A large wooden platter of pita slices, hummus, tabouleh, olives, feta cheese and peppers lay half eaten between the two of them. Each had also begun a second round of drinks — more red wine for Lauren and Fat Tire draft beer for Trent.
Trent inhaled and turned on the barstool so that he faced her. The stool squeaked, but he disregarded the sound. “I was just young and, something else.” He thought for a moment. “Confused. Maybe that’s the right word.”
“That morning, I woke up on the blanket, and I thought you’d just walked down the beach a little bit. I got up and searched.” She raised her eyebrow. “Of course I couldn’t find you.” She frowned at the memory. “I went over to your parents’ place. And when your mom answered the door, she told me that you weren’t there, and that you didn’t want to see me anymore. She acted so strange. So abrupt.”
Trent swallowed and tapped two of his fingers on the wide mahogany bar.
“Yeah. I told her to do that.” He took a sip of his beer. “She asked me if I wanted to come to the door, and I told her just to tell you to leave. She didn’t know what to do. She’s a master at keeping up appearances when things start to fall apart.” He smiled at her apologetically. “Plus, I just couldn’t bear to face that Italian blood of yours.”
Lauren laughed and signaled the college-aged bartender. “I’ll have another glass of red. Same kind, thanks.” The bartender nodded and walked away.
“Four glasses in the last three hours,” Trent said. “Impressive.”
“I’m a big girl. I can hold my liquor.”
“Wine doesn’t count as liquor. Not in my book.”
The bartender placed a fresh glass in front of Lauren. She picked it up and gestured to Trent. “Neither does beer.”
“Touché.” He clinked her glass.
Lauren took the first drink of the new glass and found the courage to ask a question that had danced on her lips for the last hour. “So what do you want from me now?”
Trent put down his beer. “What do you mean?”
“You know.”
He popped an olive in his mouth. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“Well, what do you want now that we’ve…?”
Trent placed his hand on hers. “I liked it, Lauren. I did.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “I did.”
“Me, too.”
“And I’m thinking that maybe we should...” He glanced over shoulder and his next words died in the back of his throat. Trent’s eyes widened and his body stiffened.
Lauren cocked her head. “What? What is it?”
Trent cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “See for yourself,” he said, nodding in the direction of the open restaurant patio.
Lauren swiveled around on the barstool. She did it just in time to see Madeline storm through the entrance to the bar.
8:15 PM
ey,” Lauren stood up as her cousin reached them. “So, great seeing you here.” she looked over at Trent, and back at Madeline. Madeline pointed her scowl at Trent.
“Yeah, it’s nice to see you,” Trent added, with an affable smile.
Madeline glanced at Lauren and ignored him. “Yeah, great thing, Lauren.” She hooked one hand over the strap of her purse and placed the other hand on her hip. “I just walked by and saw you guys back here at the bar.”
Lauren gave her cousin a polite smile. “We stopped to get some dinner.”
Madeline’s upper lip raised into a sneer. “Dinner?” She gestured to Lauren’s dark waves. “Sexy hair, by the way.”
Lauren blushed. “Yeah, I guess it’s a little... disheveled.”
Madeline responded by glancing over at Trent again, who by now gripped one side of the bar. “I need to talk to Lauren for a second.” Madeline put a hand on Lauren’s arm and spoke only to her. “Can we talk outside?”
“Outside?” Lauren searched her cousin’s face for some sign of what she wanted to talk about, but Madeline kept her expression stony and cold. “Why outside?”
Madeline took a step closer to Lauren, dividing her from Trent.
“I just want to tell you something, Lauren,” she said in a low voice. “It’s important.” She widened her eyes, hoping her friend could somehow read her mind. “And I want to tell you it alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. Alone. Please come outside with me.” She jerked her head to door. “We can talk around the corner.”
“Okay,” Lauren said, tentative. Whenever Madeline wanted to talk to someone alone, Lauren knew it meant trouble. She licked her lips as she noticed a tight charge in the air around the three of them. “Outside.”
Madeline exhaled. “Good.” She turned around and walked out of the restaurant, her heels clattering against the tile floor as she left.
Lauren gave Trent an apologetic shrug and followed Madeline out the door.
8:56 PM
By the time Lauren walked back into the bar, Trent had killed two more beers. The wait had been agony. During the last half hour, he checked his cell phone six times, wrote four undelivered text messages to Lauren, ate the rest of the food on the hummus tray, paid the bill, and wondered aloud twice if he would throw up. Repeatedly, he played Madeline’s expression in his mind, and every time he wondered what she wanted to tell Lauren. He didn’t doubt it had everything to do with him; something inside confirmed it. The main question was, how much did Madeline know?
He shuddered every time he thought about it. If she knew everything, and told Lauren everything, he’d never get another chance with her.
Never.
He should have just confessed to Lauren everything back at The Biltmore. He’d been close. He tried. He opened himself up to her a lot. She’d understood what he said, hadn’t yelled, and didn’t seem to hate him. Then he’d let raw attraction distract him.
Damn. Why had he let sex get in the way? And why had he been such a coward?
Trent had just contemplated this for the tenth time when Lauren reentered the restaurant. His stomach unwound as he watched her stride across the room, but even as it did, his heart pounded at the expression on her face. Everything about Lauren’s body language screamed anger. Red rimmed eyes. Hunched shoulders. A purposeful stride. A scowl. She knew all his secrets. And oh hell, this was going to be bad.
Very bad.
Trent stood up before she reached him. “I can explain the rest,” he said. “I can.”
She shook her head and stopped about a foot away. “You don’t need to.” She looked away. “I already know. You bastard.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you the rest.”
“Whatever.” She held up a hand. “It’s fine. Really.” She took a step back. “No need. Madeline’s a good— she’s protective.”
Trent’s face twisted in pain. “Can we go somewhere else and talk? Please, Lauren.” His heart thundered so hard in his chest he wondered if she could hear it. “Please.”
“Why are you always trying to go somewhere else and talk?” she asked, her eyes wide and her tone harsh.
“Well, I just—”
“I don’t have anything to say to you anymore.” Her jaw popped as she gritted her teeth. “Nothing.”
“I know, but—” he faltered. “It’s not what you think. It’s not what she said.”
“All I know is that you lied.” She stepped backward again. “Goodbye, Trent.” She nodded, as if convincing herself of each word. “Goodbye for good.”
She tossed her hair as she turned and left the restaurant, and for a moment Trent just stood there, watching the woman he wanted to love exit his life for the second time. His legs held him there as if he’d stumbled into quicksand, and he couldn’t move. With each step, she grew smaller, but once she made it to the street, he found the courage to chase after her.
“Wait, Lauren,” he called across the bar. He rushed toward her. “Wait!”
She didn’t turn around. She just kept right on walking. She had no time to hear another protracted plea from the man who had eaten her heart on a piece of fine china.
“Wait,” he said for the third time, and by then he’d almost overtaken her on the sidewalk. “Please, Lauren.” He reached out and caught hold of her shoulder.
She recoiled as if he’d struck her with a stun gun, but in one way, it worked. She stopped walking and turned around. “What do you want? I already told you I never want to see you again.”
“I know, but you have to give me a minute to explain,” he said, aware they were having this confrontation on the sidewalk of one of Palm Beach’s main roads.
“Lies of omission are still lies, Trent.”
“I just thought— I should have—”
“I was so stupid,” she said, her voice raising a little. “I actually thought you’d told me the whole truth.” She sneered at him. “But of course I had to remember, that you are Trent Matthews.” She pushed some hair out of her eyes. “And Trent Matthews is a jerk. More than a jerk. A liar.”
“Why can’t you— I mean—” He broke off and struggled to find the right words. “Why don’t we... come down this way.” He reached out and tried to pull her a little way down the small alley next to Testa’s restaurant.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop asking me.”
Trent sighed. “Fair enough.”
He took a step into the alley, and as he did, she contradicted herself and followed him. He smiled to himself, suddenly hopeful that the door to her heart might not have closed all the way after all. For a quick second, he took in the way the night light set off her chocolate hair. She couldn’t look any more beautiful than she did then, even though she radiated anger and frustration.
Oh God, he had to fix this. He had to, or he’d never be the same. He didn’t want to go another day without her fiery personality in his life. Losing her again would ruin the little that remained of his heart.
“What did Madeline say?” he whispered as he willed himself to regain his confidence. He could do this. He’d fix this. He’d make sure of it.
Lauren crossed her arms over her chest. “Madeline knows everyone. And you might have thought your parents never told anyone, but it’s not true.”
His brows knitted together in confusion. “Continue.”
“When were you going to tell me that Cynthia died in a car accident?” Lauren’s gift for bluntness had never served her better. “That you were the one driving the car? That the police investigated you?”
Trent’s face fell and he braced his body against the nearest concrete wall. He put one hand in his pocket and drew in a long breath. The words stung, but somehow, hearing her say them seemed less painful than the way he heard them in his own mind. “So Madeline did know.”
Lauren shifted her weight. “Of course she knew. This is Palm Beach. People know everything about each other here.” ‘
“I wonder how she knew.”
“She said your mom and hers had a conversation about it a couple of years ago, and then her mom told her. She didn’t remember the details, and after our lunch at Taboo she called her mom.” Lauren shook her head. “Her mom’s good at remembering stuff like that.” Exasperated, she steeled the annoyance inside of her and tried to sound like she didn’t care what happened next. “You know how she likes good gossip.”
“Yes, I drove the car that night Cynthia died.” He rubbed a hand over his brow and gulped back some of his simmering emotions. “We’d been out at dinner, and we had a fight. She wanted more from me, and I couldn’t give it to her. Wouldn’t.”
“Go on.”
“We were about two miles from the dorm up at school.” He shook his head hard. “It started raining, and I couldn’t see the road very well.” He closed his eyes, remembering further. “The car on the other side of the road didn’t see us. And before I knew it, we hit.” He faltered. “I’ll never forget the sound of crunched metal and shattering glass.” He paused. “The impact knocked me out. And when I woke up, she was… she…”
Lauren’s mouth dropped open as one of her eyebrows arched. “So, what are you saying? She died?”
Trent looked down at the gravel that made up the alley.
“Yes. They told me later that she didn’t make it to the hospital.” He pursed his lips as he thought about it, and he choked up a little. “Of course I thought it was my fault. And the police did, too.”
“Madeline said everyone blamed you. That the police charged you with involuntary manslaughter. And she said she wasn’t even sure you actually went into the Navy.”
At that, Trent threw up his hand. “No, that’s where she got it wrong.” He shifted his weight, still nervous. “They did an investigation, yes. And we thought for a while—” He took a deep breath. “We thought for a while I’d be charged.” He spread his hand out, exasperated. “But in the end, they ruled the accident as not my fault.” He looked away from her. “My parents were so embarrassed. You can imagine. My whole family. Ashamed.”
“And?”
“That winter, after I walked at Amherst, I went into the Navy.” He flinched at the memory and crossed his arms. “Just seemed like the right thing to do.”
“And you couldn’t tell me any of this?”
“You know, it took me a long time to figure out that it wasn’t my entire fault. And of course, Cynthia’s family sued us. We settled out of court.” He looked up at her, wondering if she’d leave him now, forever. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“Wow,” Lauren whispered.
Trent studied her face, even though he couldn’t really see it. As he did, he heard the faint sound of the patrons at Testa’s. “I guess I’m not surprised Mom said something.” He squinted and tried to figure out her thoughts. “She was very upset when it all happened. And when she’s upset, she talks. And talks. And talks.”
“I just can’t believe it.” Now Lauren also leaned up against a concrete wall, but she chose the opposite one to Trent. “Why didn’t you...”
“Why didn’t I tell you?” Trent hesitated. “Would you have told you?”
“I don’t know, Trent. You tell me.”
“Like I said, after it all happened, I decided to join the Navy. I wanted to get away. I had to get away from all of it.” A rueful half smile crossed his face. “And my family didn’t object. I think they wanted me gone, too.” Trent rubbed his face with his hand. In one way, telling her the truth felt freeing, as if he’d finally unburdened the pain he’d carried on his back for years. In another way, telling the truth revived a grief he’d never wanted to face again. At that moment, he didn’t know how to sort it out inside of himself.
“Okay. I should have told you earlier today. I should have just told you the whole truth.” He hesitated. “But admitting it all seemed so horrible. Just didn’t know what you would think.”
Lauren crossed her arms again, but she did it without animosity or anger. “It is horrible.”
“I’ve carried the guilt about Cynthia’s death around for years.” Trent shuddered and his voice fell to a whisper. “I blamed myself. She wouldn’t have been in that position if she hadn’t met me. She’d still be alive.”
“But she isn’t.” Lauren studied Trent’s face; she saw pain and regret. “You have to forgive yourself. And you need to move on.”
“How can I?”
He closed his eyes and leaned back further against the concrete. As he did, some of the street light caught his face. It made his square jaw look stronger and the slight stubble on his face more pronounced. Lauren stifled a gasp. She wanted to stay mad at him, she really did, but when she saw his gorgeous features like that...
“There was no way I would have even tried to contact you,” Trent continued. “Not after something like that.” He pulled his eyes to hers. “I’ve been down the road to hell. I have lived in hell. And I didn’t deserve someone like you.”
“But you don’t even really know me anymore.”
“You keep on saying that.” Tentatively, Trent took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I know enough to know I want to try again. I want to get to know you again.” He waited for an answer, wondering how much he’d continue to beg her. She had to see how much he wanted to try. How much he hoped she would.
“It’s not what happened that bothers me, Trent. It’s the lying.” She gestured with her left hand to help make her point. “I just want to you to tell me the truth. If we don’t have the truth, we don’t have anything.”
“I was afraid. I’ll admit that.”
“I’m not going to be with someone who can’t tell me the whole truth.”
“Can’t you see? I’m doing just that.” He hesitated. “I’ve told you everything. I promise. Everything.”
She pulled herself away from the concrete and took a step to him. As she did, her heart broke — not from pain, but from sympathy. “What do you really want from me, Trent?”
“That’s the second time you’ve asked that question tonight,” he observed.
“Maybe that’s because I really want to know.” She frowned a little. “I mean, can people really have a second chance?”
“They can. We can.” His hand pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is that moment, Lauren. One more chance to make things different. Make things right. Make it count.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
