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“I don’t,” he says setting his glass down, giving me a quick wink. “I do them both separately.”
He laughs for the both of us when it becomes obvious I don’t find him amusing. “An occasional glass of the good stuff isn’t going to kill me, Sparkplug.” He closes his book and sets it aside. The Call of the Wild by Jack London. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
I shake my head, sinking into the soft leather chair. “I’m going to miss my books.” I look up. The mezzanine level of the library is nothing but books. Bright-colored spines, stacked from floor to ceiling.
“They’ll be here when you come back,” Spencer says, trying to comfort me. I don’t know how to tell him that there will be no coming back for me. Jeremy and I will announce our engagement over the holiday season, and then before I know it, we’ll be married. My life here is over.
“Maybe I’ll miss you.” I give him a weak smile, chewing on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
“I’ll be here too,” he says, turning in his chair to lift something off the table. He hesitates for a moment like he’s having second thoughts, before finally deciding to hand it to me. It’s an envelope. Long and thick. Written on its face is an address.
1334 Boylston St.
Boston, MA. #14C
Boylston Street is the apartment my mother, and I moved into when she left my father. We lived there for three weeks while Spencer finalized his divorce from Celine’s mother. Some wannabe actress even younger than my mother. I had no idea he kept it.
As soon as I see it, my heart catapults itself into my throat, I know what it is. What it means. He knows I lied.
“Boston City Library called my office line last month to confirm you received your service contract,” he says before I have a chance to speak. “You put me down as your emergency contact, and they couldn’t get ahold of you.”
“I’m sorry.” I manage to push the words, forcing myself to look at him. “I’m sorry, Spencer.”
“For what? Lying?” He waves his hand at me before I can answer. “I understand why you did it.”
Even though I know what it is, I open the envelope. Cash. A brand-new credit card with my name on it. A set of keys.
“I can’t take this,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t.” I reserved a room at a boarding house not far from the library. I had some savings from the private tutoring sessions I offered in college.
The irony of that nearly chokes me.
“You can,” he says, his usually pleasant face going hard. “And if you want me to keep my mouth shut to your mother, you will.”
I’m still shaking my head. Still refusing when he sighs.
“Then do it for me, Sparkplug,” he says quietly. “Let this old man set things right.”
“What are you talking about?” His words snap my head up on my neck. “You haven’t done anything.”
“I beg to differ,” he says. “What your mother and I did was wrong. We took you away from your life. Your brother.” Spencer sighs, sitting back in his chair. “I wanted your mother so badly I told myself that we were doing what was best for you. I was giving you a better life.”
I think about it. The fact that my mother’s ruthless pursuit of wealth and a life of privilege tore me away from everyone and everything I knew and loved. Thrust me into a life I was never supposed to have. One I never wanted.
However much I want to hate her for that, I can’t because her selfishness led me to Spencer. The man who has been more of a parent to me than my own ever were. “You’ve given me a great life.” The words come out, barely a croak.
“But I took things from you too, Sparkplug.” He looks sad, his fingers closing around mine, squeezing tight. “Important things. I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself for that.”
He gives me a long look like he’s weighing a grenade in his hand, trying to decide whether or not to pull the pin. “I know about Jeremy—I’ve known for a while,” he says. “I know what the two of you are planning—and why.”
No, no, no…
I feel my hands clamp tight around the envelope. My eyes bulge. Mouth gapes. Before I can deny or dispute what he’s saying he holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s okay, Sparkplug,” he says. “I… understand.” His face crumples for a moment under the weight of emotion. Love. Fear. Pride. “That’s why this is so important. That’s why you’re going to take my help. Because I took things from you and I want you to go find them before it’s too late.”