* * *
An hour later, freshly showered and clothed in another lovely dress from Louisa's closet, I meet Calder on the lawn. I called my dad while I was getting dressed, and though he sounded as tired and flustered as ever, he was thrilled with the work Garrett’s done since I called him. He told me that Garrett was at the Center all day yesterday, and that he’d already managed to elicit enough donations to get us through the month. He said he had every faith that my loathsome ex was exactly what we needed to turn things around. I didn't tell my dad about all the calls and messages. I didn't want to spoil his mood. I haven't heard him this excited and hopeful in months.
Garrett himself called me again this morning, but I let it go straight to voicemail. I'm shocked he hasn't gotten the hint by now, but that's Garrett for you. He's determined, I'll give him that much.
I leave my phone on my bed. Garrett can disappear with the rest of my real-world problems. This morning is about the gardens.
And damn, are these some gardens.
Calder leads me around the side of the house, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the grounds open up in front of us. Sure, the storm knocked down some branches and leaves, but it hardly lessens the effect—this place is beautiful. I'm reminded of the impression I had when I first stood outside the gates: it's like some overgrown enchanted garden out of a fairy tale. Here, next to the house, someone has laid out the beds in an ornate diamond pattern.
The beds themselves are wild with flowers—far more than I could ever identify—but I recognize asters and the chrysanthemums among the early-autumn blooms. The section closest to the house is full of herbs, and several small, flowering trees stand at the corners of the path. At the center, where all the beds come together, I spot a trickling stone fountain.
“This is… this is amazing.”
I look up to find Calder watching me intently. He's clearly pleased by my reaction.
“This is like something out of a storybook,” I say, moving deeper into the garden. It's a cheesy sentiment, I know, but I feel a childish sort of excitement. I almost feel like a princess, wandering around a place like this.
I glance back over my shoulder at my dashing “prince.” He smiles at me warmly, his whole face blooming.
I quickly turn back around. There I go, getting caught up in silly romantic notions and forgetting why I'm even here in the first place. How much does it cost to maintain a garden like this? Probably a lot more than all of the Center's programs combined.
But I'm not supposed to be thinking about this anymore. I had my chance to win us the money, and I failed. And I enjoyed that failure, too, a voice in my head whispers.
By the time we reach the edge of the fountain, the glow of excitement has dimmed. Outside in the light of day, I’m confronted once again by the ridiculousness of my actions. What was I thinking, sleeping with him? How had I allowed myself to get so distracted, to forget why I came here, even for a minute? How can I look at him now, after everything that's happened, and be at all confused about my feelings for him? He's not a prince. He’s a man who lives in excess while refusing to fulfill the pledge his family made to the Center. Having sex doesn’t change that.
Calder doesn't seem to notice my sudden shift in mood. He stands next to me at the edge of the fountain, looking down at the water. I myself look up at the stone sculpture that crowns the piece. It's a pair of horses, heads held high and tails flowing in an imaginary wind. Water spews out of the mouth of each of the stoic beasts, following a graceful arc into the pool below.
“My father had this fountain specially commissioned,” Calder says. “The one on the left was modeled after my sister's horse. The one on the right is mine. Rudolph, I called him. Louisa and I used to pretend that some curse had turned them to stone and it was up to us to free them.”
I want to smile, but I don’t. “Rudolph? Like the reindeer?”
“He was a Christmas present,” Calder says with a shrug. “I wanted a reindeer, but my father said they couldn't survive outside the North Pole. I was pretty torn up over it, truth be told. But Rudolph is a great horse. The best I could ever ask for.”
“Where is he now?” I say, glancing around. “Didn't you say you had stables here?” I’ve always loved horses. Maybe they could help lighten my mood again.
Calder's smile falls from his face.
“I sold him this past summer.” He reaches down and runs his fingers along the surface of the water. The pool is murky from the recent rain, and a number of twigs and leaves have collected at the bottom.
Sold it, like he sold the family’s boat? Is this about his father, too?
“Why?” It's a dangerous question, but I ask it anyway.
He looks back up at me, and for a moment I see it again, that sadness that he keeps buried away. Before I can stop myself, I'm reaching toward him, and my fingers brush against his cheek. He doesn't move. I lightly sweep a bit of hair away from his temple. I don't know what I'm doing, and I know I’m being foolish, but I can't bring myself to break his intense gaze.
“Why?” I ask again. This time my voice is no more than a whisper. I feel like I'm on the verge of something, like he's about to open up to me about whatever dark feelings he's been suppressing. His lips part slightly, and I give him another encouraging caress across his cheek.
“It's not important.” He steps away from my touch. “Anyway, I'm too busy to properly care for a horse.” He turns and begins to walk around the base of the fountain. “What do you say? The maze next?”
“Wait,” I say. This is the closest he’s come to opening up to me since I’ve been here. “Don't you—I mean, it is important, you know. You're clearly upset about selling him. I don't mind if you talk about it.”
He pauses, but when he turns back toward me his face is carefully blank.
“It doesn't really matter. Honestly. I've only ridden him a handful of times in the past few years. He's better off at his new home.”
“I don't believe that. It's obvious you loved him. And you're here now. You could spend time with him again.”
Calder's eyes are cold. “I told you, I don't want to talk about it.”
He turns and starts down the path once more, but I catch up with him quickly.
“Well maybe you need to talk about it,” I say. “He was important to you.”
He stops and turns on me. “What do you know about any of it?”
His glare is deadly, but I won't let him intimidate me. I meet his gaze without flinching.
“I know you have a lot of pain in you,” I say. I know I’m treading on dangerous ground, but I press on anyway. “I know you're having a hard time dealing with your father's death. Your sister's on the other side of the world, your horse is gone. The only other person I've seen in this place is Martin, but unless I'm missing something, I don't think you're talking to him about any of this. You shouldn't keep these feelings bottled up. They'll eat you alive.”
“Are you my therapist now?” he demands. “What, we fuck for a couple of days and suddenly you think you can see into my soul or something?”
I stagger back, feeling like he's slapped me across the face. But he’s not done.
“You expect me to open up to you,” he says, raking his hand through his hair, “but you’re in such denial about your own baggage that you don’t even realize that you’re the one pushing away. That ex sure screwed you up something good.”
“I was only trying to help,” I murmur.
“You’re not helping. What part of that don’t you understand? We had some fun, that’s it. I don’t care about your life story, and I’m definitely not interested in sharing mine.”
“Which is it, then?” I snap. “You’re either pissed that I pushed you away or you’re pissed that I dared to show you some concern. You can’t have it both ways!”
“But you can? One minute you’re upset that I won’t talk about my father, and the next you’re upset that I’ve presumed to ask you about your ex. You expect me
to open up to you, but I’ll be damned if you’ve shown me even a hint of what’s going on in your own head.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve tried, time and again, to talk to you about the Center, and—”
“Ah, the Center! ‘Center, Center, Center,’ every five minutes. The Center’s just an excuse. Can’t you see that?”
“An excuse? For what?”
“For everything! You’ve buried yourself in this little mission of yours so you don’t have to think about how you really feel or what you really want.”
“So you’re the therapist now? You have no idea what I want.”
“Neither do you, apparently.”
After all my tumultuous feelings of the past few days, those words are the final straw.
“Forget it,” I say. “Fuck it. I'm leaving. Fuck you, fuck this house, fuck the floods. I'm going home, and I don't care if I have to swim there.” I turn and storm up the path, back toward the door. I'll run in and grab my purse, and then I plan on getting as far away from this place as I can.
But just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the universe decides to screw with me some more. I charge around the corner of the house, and I almost have an aneurysm when I see who’s standing at the base of the steps.
There, right next to one of those ridiculous stone lions, is Garrett.
He looks up and sees me before my brain can even begin to make sense of the situation.
“Lils,” he says, coming toward me. “Thank God.”
It's too much. It's all too much.
“What are you doing here?” I say. “What the hell, Garrett?”
“I was worried about you,” he says. He reaches me just as Calder comes around the corner.
“Lily. Forgive me, I didn't mean—”
He comes to a complete standstill when he sees Garrett standing next to me.
“Who the hell are you?” Calder says. His eyes flick between Garrett and me. “What the hell is going on here?”
I glance back at my ex. “That's what I want to know.”
Garrett's blue eyes are blazing, and the corners of his mouth are tight. I know this look. He's furious. But this time his anger isn't directed at me. One glance at Calder and I know I need to do something—fast—before I end up in the middle of a fistfight.
“What are you doing here, Garrett?” I say. “I never told you where I was. I didn't tell anyone, not even Dad.”
He still won't look at me. His eyes are locked on the master of the house.
“You wouldn’t answer my calls,” he says.
“I had nothing else to say to you. My dad would have given you all the information you needed.”
“I was worried, babe.” He moves toward me, but I step back.
“You haven’t answered my question,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought something had happened to you. I know you, Lils. I knew you were up to something, and you wouldn’t tell anyone where you were. For all I knew, you’d been kidnapped or something.” His eyes narrow at Calder.
“That’s the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard,” I say. “And that doesn’t explain how you found me.”
“The phone company can track your cell,” he says, his eyes still fixed on the man behind me. “You gave me your password, remember?”
I can only gape at him. I knew Garrett was crazy, but this is a whole new level of creepy.
“That was a year ago!” I say. “Did you seriously track me out here? What's wrong with you?”
“I told you, I was worried about your safety. Especially when I looked up the coordinates. If you’d told me, I’d have—”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just didn't want to talk to you?”
From the stunned expression on his face, I don't think it has.
It's taking all of my self-restraint not to punch him. I open my mouth to argue, but suddenly Calder stands between us, holding me back with one arm as he focuses his dark eyes on Garrett.
“I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you're trespassing on my property. If you're not gone by the time I count to five, I'm calling the police.”
Garrett stares back at him steadily. A brave feat, considering Calder is several inches taller—and broader in the chest and shoulders, too. If this does dissolve into a fight, there's little doubt, I think, as to who has the advantage.
But Garrett's unwilling to back down.
“Fine, call the police. I'll be sure to tell them how you kidnapped a young, innocent girl and kept her trapped in your mansion.”
“Stop being ridiculous, Garrett,” I say.
He tears his eyes away from Calder and looks at me. His gaze drops to my hand, which I've unwittingly placed on Calder's arm.
“Who is this guy to you?” Garrett asks me.
“He's certainly not a kidnapper.”
“You told me you were trying to get money for the Center.”
“I was. I am.”
“Not here you aren’t.”
I make an exasperated sound. “You worked with us for a year. You know how generous the Cunningham family has been.”
“Isn’t this guy why the Center’s in trouble in the first place?”
“I thought I might make a more convincing case in person.”
Garrett’s eyes are steely. He still won’t break Calder’s gaze. “And what sort of ‘convincing’ does this fucker require?”
Calder’s muscles tighten under my grip.
“This is your final warning to get off my property,” he says. “Or believe me, I will be pressing charges.”
Garrett looks ready to leap at Calder’s throat.
“You may have struck a deal with my editor, but I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut. I’m not going to let you take advantage of Lily.”
“He’s not taking advantage of me,” I insist, but Calder grips my arm.
“Come on,” he says. “Let's get back inside. I'm calling the cops.” He tries to nudge me toward the door, but Garrett jumps in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders.
“How much money has he promised you?” he demands.
Calder grabs Garrett by the collar and yanks him away from me. “I swear, if you put another hand on her—”
“How much?” Garrett demands even as he struggles against Calder's grip. “How much, Lily? He's a liar! He's a fucking liar! He doesn't have anything. The family's completely broke.”
Calder stiffens.
For a moment I just stand there in shock. What? The Cunninghams are broke? That can't be right. Garrett's trying to manipulate me. But there's a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I've never seen Calder look so pale.
Suddenly he moves, arm flying, and his fist connects with the side of Garrett's face. My ex flies backward.
“What are you doing?” I shriek.
But neither of them appear to hear me. Garrett recovers quickly, scrambling to his feet and launching himself at Calder. Calder catches him around the shoulders, but Garrett is quick. His fists connect with Calder's side as the two wrestle against each other.
“Stop!” I say. “What the hell are you doing? Stop, now!”
They ignore my pleas.
“This is ridiculous!” I say. “Stop it!”
But the two continue to batter each other. Calder takes another swing at Garrett's face, while Garrett jabs his knee upward, hitting Calder in the gut.
I don't know what to do. There's no way I'm getting in the middle of those flying punches. Should I go get Martin? Find my cell and call the police?
I turn and bolt up the stone steps. How the hell did this all blow up so fast?
“Wait—Lily.”
I'm at the top step. When I turn, Calder has Garrett pinned to the ground. Blood drips from Garrett's nose down a cheek that's already starting to swell. Calder doesn't look much better. He has a split lip and his shirt is torn. Both of them are covered in mud.
Calder holds Garrett down by the upper arms. My ex's eyes a
re wild, furious—and I know that he'll throw another punch as soon as Calder releases him. I hurry back down the steps.
“You’re insane,” I say. “Both of you. Does anyone actually have any idea what the hell is going on?”
“He was screaming at you,” Calder says. “Not to mention trespassing on my property. That's all I need to know.” He tightens his grip, and Garrett curses.
“Why the hell are you listening to him?” Garrett tries unsuccessfully to twist out of Calder's grasp. “He's a liar. I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but I guarantee it's not what you think.”
I wait for Calder to rebut the accusation, but instead he only gives his opponent another shake. His face is full of storm clouds.
My stomach twists as I step closer. “What's going on?”
“He's a liar,” Garrett says again. “The whole family's broke.”
“Shut up,” Calder says. He looks ready to take another swing, so I rush forward and grab his arm, forcing him to turn and look at me. His gaze softens slightly, but not enough—and I know I'm not going to like what he has to say.
“What's going on?” I ask again.
“You better tell her,” Garrett says. “If you won't, then I'll—”
“Stay out of this, Garrett,” I snap.
I turn back to Calder. His eyes are pleading with me, and I know I'm about to have the rug ripped out from beneath me.
“Tell me,” I say, so softly I can hardly hear it above Garrett's ragged breathing.
Calder's gaze darts away, and he lets out a long breath.
“Lily…”
“Tell me.”
He tenses under my hand, and I can feel his pulse beating rapidly beneath the thin skin of his inner elbow.
“I inherited some financial difficulties,” he says finally.
I stare at him for a long moment, trying to process everything that this means.
“Is that why you broke your father's pledge to the Center?” I ask.
His dark eyes bore into me, begging me for understanding.
“It wasn't just the pledge,” he says. “I've broken a number of other contracts, too, and I've started selling—”
“Does this mean you never intended to give us the money? That all those promises and all those games were—were what? Just a ruse? Just enough incentive to get me to… to…”
I glance down at Garrett, who's near purple with fury.
“What the hell happened here?” he says, struggling again against Calder's hold. “What the fuck did he do?”
I don't respond. I feel as if someone has dunked me in cold water.
“Lily,” Calder pleads. “If you would let me explain…”
“No,” I say, releasing his arm. “No. I'm done. With both of you.” I turn and bolt up the steps before either can stop me. Someone calls my name, but I don't care who. I can't bear to look at either of them right now.
I know my way to my room at this point. I grab my things and fumble in my purse for my keys. I refuse to stay here a moment longer. I can't believe I allowed myself to be so easily fooled, that I believed Calder's lies even for a minute.
When I return outside, Calder is halfway up the stairs. Garrett is dragging himself to his feet behind him.
“Lily,” Calder says, “if you'd just let—”
“No.” I push past him. “If Garrett made it up here, then the road must be clear by now. I'm leaving.”
Garrett grins at my announcement. He thinks he's won.
“Come on,” he says, taking my arm. “Let's get out of here.”
I jerk away from him. “Don't touch me. I don't want to talk to you, either.”
“Lils, I didn't—”
“ENOUGH.” I shove him aside and march down the driveway. If either one of them comes after me, I swear, I'll punch him in the face.
When I get to the gates, I find them locked. Garrett must have climbed over them like I did. I can’t believe that one stupid, reckless decision turned out like this. My ex’s Jeep is parked beside mine, and I give his front tire a kick before diving into my own car.
And that’s when I lose it. As soon as I crank the gas, the tears begin to spill over.
I keep replaying the entire thing in my head: the argument I had with Calder in the garden, Garrett's unexpected arrival, the subsequent fight. The realization that Calder has been lying to me this entire time.
It's a disaster, this whole situation. How the hell do I attract such assholes?
But no, that's not fair—I brought all of this upon myself. I called Garrett when I knew I shouldn't have. I gave into my attraction when I knew Calder was no good for me. I can’t blame them for being themselves.
The worst part is that there's no hope for the Center now.
My tears are coming so hard that I have trouble seeing the road. I force myself to slow down. The last thing I need is to crash my car out here and rely on one of those idiots to save my ass.
When I get to the place where the road crosses the river, I nearly lose it again. On either side of the bridge, the road is completely underwater. I estimate it’s still a foot deep in some places. Garrett was fine in his Jeep, but I'm not sure my crappy old Honda can survive that much water. She's on her last legs already, and I certainly don't have the money for repairs. I don't have money for a tow, either, or to call a cab all the way out here. I pull over, park, and lay my head against the steering wheel, nearly hyperventilating.
I feel so… empty. Like I sold my soul and have nothing to show for it. I dig my nails into the vinyl of the steering wheel and force myself to count down from ten. By the time I reach one, I've managed to breathe normally again.
This is just a setback, I tell myself. There's still plenty you can do for the Center. Don't let one bad weekend destroy all of your hope.
Easier said than done. All the hope in the world won’t make me feel any less horrible about these last few days. I can’t believe that I fell for Calder’s lines, or that I thought I could handle Garrett in my life again, even in some small capacity. I’m an idiot all around. I need to get as far away from these dipshits as possible before I’ll even be able to think straight again.
I look at the water in the road.
“What do you think?” I ask my Honda. “Up for the challenge?”
I give her an encouraging pat on the dash, and then I crank her into gear.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN