Page 48 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)

A LITTLE BIT OF TENSION

Beckett

The light bulb hangs low, exposed wire curling from the ceiling. I have to bend every time I want to stand up straight, and it’s seriously starting to piss me off.I shove the box towards the corner of the basement, and behind me, keeping the door open, is Silvio.

My plan is very simple: I want to stack all the other boxes together so that the fruit crates sit on top. I mean, I didn’t carefully label them fragile and don’t squeeze it for nothing.

“Beckett? Where are you, man?”

Antony sounds like he just ran a fucking marathon, which is hilarious considering he only carried two boxes before telling me he needed a bathroom break.

“Down!” Silvio yells before I can.

“Down where?”

“In the basement, dumbass!” I cross my arms, tilting my head as I wait for his ugly mug to show up. “Where else would we be?”

Antony makes a noise that goes a bit like aaaah before shouting, I’m coming. I roll my eyes, but there’s fondness in the gesture.

“Meu pai do céu!” Antony sneezes, making his freshly done piercing jiggle. The hoop is way too big for a fresh wound. I should tell him to swap it out before it gets infected.

“You can wait inside the restaurant if you want,” I tell him. “I’m almost done anyway.”

There’s not much left to do, just a few boxes to carry. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, feeling sweat trickling down my collarbone. Being shirtless was supposed to help, but the basement feels like a hundred degrees.

Antony’s eyes widen as he spots the mess of stacked crates. “That’s a lot of stuff right there.”

Silvio smacks the back of his head. “I run a successful bar-restaurant. You know what happens at a successful bar-restaurant?”

“People buy stuff?” Antony offers sheepishly.

“Hell, yes!” Silvio smacks him again. “Now, get out before I make you wash the dishes.”

Antony gives me a desperate look. “Is there even enough space for all this? I don’t see any refrigerators.”

“I keep them in the kitchen,” Silvio explains, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “We get fresh fish delivered to us every day. Perks of being so close to the sea, he-he-he!”

Antony nods, as if impressed. “That’s why I only order fish when I come here.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re allergic to seafood, Antony.”

“Definitely allergic.” He grins in a goofy way. “I once almost died from eating half of a shrimp. Beckett made me spit it out before I could swallow it.”

“Because you stole my food.” I close the box shut. “You should use the tomatoes soon, or else they’ll rot in here. It’s way too humid.”

“Don’t worry about it. My wife’s catering for a birthday party downtown next Tuesday. Two hundred guests, Beckett. There won’t be a single tomato left.”

“Well, at least you have that going on for you, man.”

We walk out of the basement one after the other. Silvio locks up after me. “Thanks for the help. My back is killing me.”

“Don’t mention it.” I shake his hand, trying hard not to grimace at his grip.

“Let me get you something to drink, okay?”

“No.” I shake my head. Antony glares at me. “I’m beat. I need to drop Tony off and go home, man. Shower. See my dog.”

“Talk to a certain Cassandra Rivera,” Antony teases, waving Silvio off. “Keep it on his tab for next time.”

“Well, she’s the one looking after him, so yeah.” I roll my eyes, annoyed that I made the mistake of mentioning the last talk she and I shared.

Antony and I head for the truck, talking about Pepé still. I explain how long I plan to leave him at Cassandra’s, and Antony complains about me not standing up to my dad.

“It’s your house,” he reasserts. “Not his.”

“I mean, I’m the one paying my bills, but it’s still under his name.”

Antony frowns. “You… pay your bills?”

“Yeah, dude. Do you think I work at Well’s farm for free?” I chuckle. “I’m getting paid, Tony.”

“Are you?” His ears go red. “Oh, man. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I assumed it was just a hobby until you figured out which college you were going to.”

I brush him off, understanding his point. “I’m not going to college.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He shifts in the passenger seat, making himself more comfortable. “Does it pay well? I mean, the farm and all?”

“Not exactly.” I check the rearview. “But I’m also hired as his apprentice.”

“Apprentice? And what the hell is he teaching you?”

I stare at him, my mind going blank.I really don’t want to make a big deal out of this. I’m not even done learning everything I need to learn.

A motorcycle zips past us, blowing through a red light. Golden hair flies up in the wind. Antony almost jumps out of the passenger seat.

“Isn’t that Cassie?”

Cassie?

Since when is she just Cassie to him?

“That’s—” I blink, watching as the scooter bunny-hops, then swerves left. “Is it?”

“It is,” he sounds weirdly serious. “On Caleb’s back.”

I swallow hard, trying to stop this ugly feeling from rising in my chest. It feels a lot like…

Like jealousy?

But it can’t be. I don’t think I’m jealous of him. No, no. I’m just worried about her.

“Oh man!” Antony sighs, readjusting the seat belt around his torso. “Maria’s going to throw a fit once she finds out.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, throat tightening. “I’m guessing she will.”

I step on the gas, ignoring the knot in my stomach.

It only gets worse the more silence stretches out.

I don’t know why everything about Cassandra just makes me so goddamn nervous these days.

We’re still talking, and as far as I know, things are fine.

I still need to ask her about the commission, though.

“Are you okay, man?” Tony gives me a look filled with suspicion.

His tone makes me chuckle.

“Oh, I’m good. Why?”

“Looking a little tense, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well. Did you know Well used to be a carpenter before he retired?” I quickly switch back to our previous topic of conversation, trying not to think about all the things they are going to do together while Antony and I drive towards the opposite direction.

“That’s what he’s been teaching me. I’ve been thinking about putting in some extra time to make my apprenticeship end faster, but I don’t know yet if I’ll get the time throughout the summer. ”

“You want to become a carpenter?” Antony’s eyebrows shoot up. “No way.”

“He works on some real fancy shit, actually.” I grin, thinking about some of Well’s most elaborate commissions. It’s not cheap, especially with shipping, but his pieces can last a lifetime. I really like the idea of that. “Your mother’s new bookshelf? The one for the fancy dictionaries?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re building it.” I roll the wheel to get the car to take the roundabout. “It’s almost ready to go, actually.”

“You’re serious?” Tony stares, his surprise morphing into genuine interest. “What are you now? Some blond version of Bob the Builder?

“Ok, fuck off.”

“This is hilarious!”

“It’s not that funny.”

“For you? Yes, it is!”

I relent as my cheeks start to heat up. “Maybe I like to build things. That’s not a reason to make fun of me.”

Not that I’m ashamed of it. I could have gone to college, but I just didn’t want to. I wanted out of something that clearly wasn’t going to work for me like it did for others, and for once I wasn’t afraid to make that choice. Zero regrets.

“I’m not,” he promises, almond eyes softening. “I swear, I’m not. I think it’s brave, really.”

I find myself wincing. “I don’t know about that.”

“It is,” Antony reassures me, clearing his throat. “I’d love to do something else, too. Maybe filmmaking, like… short documentaries.”

“That sounds really cool,” I admit softly, trying to picture it.

Antony can be artistic when he wants to be. He has a good eye for pretty things and knows how to pose really well.Lucia loved to sketch his side profile, and he does have a bit of a crooked nose, which adds to his charm. Imagining him behind a camera, though, just feels right.It really suits him.

“Maybe I’ll make one about us. Living here. Traveling to different places and doing nothing all day.”

I laugh, “Sounds like a plan, Tony.”

We drive for another ten minutes before we get to his house. Antony lives in a fairly new neighborhood near the coast, his house only a five-minute walk from Le Pêcheur , a good spot for fishing.

The Silvas used to live in Port des Ondes, but Tony’s mother thought the fancy neighbors weren’t worth the trouble of being so far away from the city center.

This is definitely more of a lively street to live in compared to the quiet I always hear back home.

I can tell why she’d want to raise the twins here instead.

They moved out three years ago. Lucia completely flipped out because of it.

She might’ve been fourteen, but having Antony’s presence so close was very important to her.

My sister absolutely clung to him that year to the point of obsession.

I caught him sneaking into her bedroom late at night many times, but whenever I’d ask her about it, she’d only tell me the same things.

I just need him.

I don’t want to sleep in my bedroom without my boyfriend.

He makes me feel safe.

Never mind the fact that Tony and Lucia weren’t exactly together, and at some point he even started dating another girl.

Let us not talk about Elisa. Her name got literally blacklisted from our household after they made it official.

I sometimes wonder if he ever regrets trying to give anyone other than Lucia a shot. Not like she’d ever let him go, anyway.

At the time, Lucia just seemed dramatic. I didn’t question it, but now I’m thinking that maybe I should have. Maybe she wasn’t dealing with our family in the best way, and this boy became her safe place because she felt like she had no one else to run to.

I wish I could ask him about it without overstepping a boundary, but the topic is probably too sensitive to even approach without a warning. It’s better if I keep all my thoughts about their complicated history to myself.

“Here.” He tries to slip me twenty bucks as he slides out of the car.“For gas.”

I refuse, of course.

I always refuse.

“There’s no need to, Tony.” I push the money away from me. “My tank is almost full.”

Tony frowns. “But you keep driving me around.”

“It’s fine,” I insist. “You were running errands with me all afternoon.”

He hesitates, but I shake my head, making it clear that I want to hear no arguments.

“No, no money for me.”

“Alright, you win this time.” Antony rests a hand on the door handle. “Are you going to Robert’s fundraising party on Friday?”

“Sure.” I give him a thumbs-up, even though I actually completely forgot about it. There’s probably an invite buried somewhere in my mailbox, collecting dust. I’ll look for it later when I get home.

“Good.” He grins, opening the door. “Guess I’ll see you there.”

I give him another thumbs-up before driving off.