Page 6 of The Marriage Deal (Sunset Falls #1)
FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH
LILAH
The man is everywhere. I’d call him a social butterfly if he wasn’t perpetually alone.
Since the town meeting four days ago, I’ve not had a single conversation with him.
Granted, the first time I’d seen him after the meeting, he’d been talking to someone named Nash on the phone.
It had sounded like he was annoyed, and I’d been pretending not to eavesdrop as I slid into an empty seat at the booth Mr. Hardman had been eating at.
Before I’d left Sunset Falls three years ago, I’d often joined Mr. Hardman for lunch whenever I had the time.
After the horrific way he’d lost his wife in the fire seven winters ago when one of the space heaters she’d been using ignited in the night—well, he’d never been the same.
And his not the same was, sadly, lonely.
Because I’m me, I pushed my way in as I have a tendency to do, even when I’m not wanted. It’s a learned behavior, courtesy of Mom. Her heart is nosey. As such, mine is, too.
Now, it’s as I’m turning down the corner of Main Street with three fluffy pups on a leash in front of me, that I catch the eyes of the man behind the wheel of the big black truck that passes, heading in the opposite direction.
Where he’s come from, I can’t be sure. But if I had to gander a guess, I’d say it was The Tasty Rise.
Since coming to town, Briggs has frequented my parents’ coffee shop and bakery. I’ve seen him there more than once, even though I like to pretend that I don’t see him.
Cutting my gaze from that of the town’s most hated man, I focus on the woman hurrying toward me. Tight blonde curls bounce in every direction as she pushes big sunglasses onto her head, crouching for doggy licks as she coos and scratches behind floppy ears.
“Thanks.” She stands, her hands still wandering through doggy fur even though her eyes are now on me. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“No biggie.”
“Carolyn has been calling in sick a lot lately.”
“Oh no.” I wince. “Is it bad?”
Madelyn shakes her head, shoving at flyaway curls before huffing out a sigh of defeat and twisting them into the messy bun I’m so familiar with. “I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant.”
Madelyn watches as my brows climb, and laughs. I ask, “Does she know?”
“Eh.” She shrugs. “She and David haven’t been together long. I think she’s in denial, but that man is over the moon for her. He’ll be over the moon for a baby, too.”
“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” I hand Madelyn the leashes.
“Reminds me of when Candace was pregnant. Carolyn brought a whole tub of ice cream in on her last shift.” She frowns. “And there’s the vomit.”
“Damn.” I recall Candace’s one and only pregnancy eight, now almost nine, years ago. It had been so rough that she’d had her tubes tied in the cesarian she’d had to have. But at least she has Max, now. He’s a great kid.
“Yeah.” She bobs the leashes. “Anyway, thanks for the walk. The boys needed it big time and I couldn’t get away.”
“No problem.” I gesture to the vet clinic that side hustles as a rescue, hence the three mangey floofs now panting adoringly at Madelyn’s feet. “It’s my day off. Do you need any help in-clinic?”
“I called Candace. She dropped Max off at a friend’s house, so I’m good.” Madelyn shoots me a wide smile. “Enjoy your day off, m-kay?”
“Oh, I will.”
I start down the boardwalk but pause and turn when Madelyn calls, finger pointed at me. “Don’t forget we’re having wine tonight.”
“How could I forget wine?”
“He’s in here a lot. Always alone. Often on the phone.”
I don’t know why Mom insists on giving me the Briggs Alder play-by-play every time I see her.
When I say nothing, Mom adds, “I still want to know what that wink was about.”
“I have no idea.” My heart climbs into my throat as I open another threatening email from the debt collector. I think I might need a lawyer. The problem is that a lawyer will cost thousands. And I sort of dug myself into the mess I’m in by trusting, blindly, a con artist with my heart and credit.
I want to puke.
I drop my phone face down on the table. Dad wipes his hands on the apron he dons as soon as he enters the café and bakery every morning before the sun has even begun to rise.
“I wouldn’t mind knowing what that was about, too.” Dad’s gaze flicks to mine, brows slanting together. “You all right, kiddo?”
I’m twenty-seven, but to Dad I’ll always be kiddo. If I’m being honest, I love it.
I sigh and paste a smile that feels shamefully fake to my face. “I’m fine.”
Dad’s slanted brows rise. “You don’t look fine. In fact, you look a little pale.”
Mom reaches for my forehead, frown puckering her brow. “Feels a little clammy, too.”
“That’s not my forehead,” I mutter, gently shoving Mom’s hand from said forehead. “That’s your sweaty palm.”
“Oh.” Mom looks at her hand. “Sorry.”
“S’okay.” I sigh again, and Dad reaches into the display for one of the Nanaimo bars he’d just brought out.
He plates the treat and slides it in front of me. “Sugar heals everything.”
I don’t have the heart to tell Dad that it absolutely does not heal a single thing.
Mom’s heart might not be softer than mine, after all. Because she crushes Dad with a, “You’re delusional, Martin.”
“I choose to live in a sweet world, Brandy. It’s why I married you.”
I bite back my smile and roll my eyes at Mom’s harrumph, lifting the treat. Then I catch the groan, because Dad is good at what he does. So. Frigging. Good.
Dad’s eyes soften with a warmth my heart will always need, no matter how old I get. “There’s my girl.” He slides onto the stool opposite me at the table behind the counter. “Are you ready to tell us about what happened between you and that boy?”
Mom swats Dad with tender warning. “That boy broke her heart.”
Oh, if Mom only knew. He broke far more than my heart.
He shattered my financial future and lo and behold, I didn’t even know his real name.
The police report I filed in the aftermath of whoever-the-hell-he-was, told me that the Michael Pierce, twenty-nine years old, Caucasian, and son to Trisha and Dillon Pierce, brother to Melody Pierce, didn’t exist.
I swallow the treat that now tastes like cardboard at the thought of him. “He just wasn’t who I thought he was.”
For what it’s worth, I’m not who I thought I would be, either.
I never thought I’d be broken at twenty-seven. I never thought I’d be so defeated by life and love that I’d be here, where I am now, playing at happy just so I can protect those closest to me from seeing the shattered pieces that remain of the girl they once knew.
Clearly, I’m not doing a great job if Dad’s looking at me like he’s looking at me now.
I’ll just try harder.