Coming Home (19 page)

“I don’t understand that concept.”

“I know you don’t. You’re like the little engine that could. Quitting’s a foreign term to you.”

“It’s grueling,” she admitted.

“What is? Never letting yourself give up?”

“Yes. There were times I thought about not moving. About just giving over to the frigid lock on my bones and the hollow feeling in my belly. There were days it was simply impossible to move my fingers, all my energy going into shivering uncontrollably, where my hunger became an emotion I couldn’t contain. But I always forced myself to find food and something to keep that fire burning.”

“I can’t fathom that sort of existence. It’s so far from the privilege I’ve known. It’s a wonder we found each other.”

Yes. It was. “Do you know . . . out of all those freezing winters and hungry nights, the emptiness I felt when we were apart put those aches to shame.”

He stilled, even the breath in his chest coming to a halt. “I’ll never regret anything as much as those days apart. I was a fool and I’m so sorry I did that to both of us.”

Her lashes lowered and she found comfort again in his scent. It was the affirmation that she needed, telling her he was truly there. So many nights she’d tried to conjure his scent, searching for it in items he’d left behind, but it didn’t exist. “I don’t think I’d go if you asked me to leave again.”

“There are lots of things I wish to ask you again. Leaving’s not one of them.”

He was referring to marriage. No matter how much their time apart taught her how she needed him in her life, marriage was still something she wasn’t ready for. Oddly, they fit each other. While some might assume debutantes of high society would be better suited for a man of Lucian’s stature, they were wrong. Something inside of her—some very stingy part—knew he was made for her and she was made for him. But the time to confirm such feelings was not now.

She wondered if she’d ever reach a point that she could agree to such commitment without a thread of uncertainty. When she’d met Lucian, she’d assumed intimate relationships were as black and white as anything else. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Love was like piloting a jet through a mountain range, blind. It was freeing and exhilarating, but at the same time, at any second the person risking their life piloting that plane could crash and burn, shattering into nothing but dust—all for one glorious ride.

When the sun came up they ordered breakfast. Her body was tired from many hours of lovemaking and not enough hours of sleep. She savored every bite of her delicious scrambled eggs. Raphael, the chef at the hotel, must have known it was for her. He slipped in a small triangle of French toast generously dusted with powdered sugar beneath a dollop of homemade cream. A strawberry, carved into a starburst, perched at its side.

She ate until her belly could hold no more, and then it was time to leave. “Will I see you tonight?” Lucian asked as he made a production of kissing her good-bye.

“Jason’s coming at three, but tomorrow I have off.”

He growled and nibbled her lip, his fingers slipping beneath the waist of her wool pants. “I feel myself coming down with something. Perhaps I better tell Seth to reschedule my appointments.”

“You do feel warm. Hot even.”

His mouth trailed down her throat as he cupped her ass. The flesh of her nipples tightened and she moaned softly, wishing she could stay. His lips found hers. It was a kiss filled with dark promises. She groaned as her sex twitched, asking for more. “I can’t be late. I don’t feel like getting called into the office for a lecture.”

He drew back. “Did you have to go to the office yesterday?”

“No, but I wasn’t late.”

“Don’t let that manager of yours take advantage. I want to know if he treats you any differently than the other employees.”

She rolled her eyes. Even little old Clemons was not out of the Patras jurisdiction, apparently. He smacked her ass.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m serious.”

“Okay,” she said with little conviction.

His phone rang and he glanced at the screen before answering. “She’s on her way down now.” He hung up and kissed her one last time. “Your chariot awaits.”

***

Evelyn pushed aside her worksheet when customers began loading groceries on her belt. “Hi, how are you today?”

The older woman strategically grouped her refrigerated items and boxed non-perishables and mumbled some form of reply. The rhythmic beep, beep, beep of the scanner filled the silence as items tallied on her register. She efficiently bagged the objects and when the order was complete, Evelyn instructed the woman to slide her card. Not everyone was having a bright and cheery day here at Clemons Market.

The next few customers were a little more pleasant. In between orders, Evelyn returned to her studies. Today she was working on combination vowels like in the words
boat, coat,
and
oat.
It wasn’t rocket science, but she was immensely proud of herself.

Jason was a patient teacher. Being the only qualified instructor she ever sat down with, she noticed an impressive difference in how her mind was beginning to process the squiggly lines, putting sounds to letters, and grouping sounds to form words. He encouraged her when quitting was tempting and he never let her get overly frustrated.

Much of the process of learning to read was frustrating. Directions were difficult. Luckily, Nick knew her secret and he was always a register away if she had any questions.

Mr. Gearhart had been MIA for the last few days. That made sneaking in her studies between customers a bit easier. Anyone who saw what she was working on would clearly know she wasn’t as educated as she should be. She’d gotten in the habit of putting her dictionary over the juvenile illustrations of tugboats, puppies, and sand pails. By next week she’d be on the second grade workbook and she hoped the pictures would be a bit less infantile. Getting rid of the baby format was just another motivator in her long journey.

A young woman stepped into her aisle and began unloading items. Evelyn pushed her paper aside and scanned the tub of coffee. “Hi, how are you today?”

The girl had auburn hair and an easy smile. She looked about twenty-five. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good, thanks. Do you have any coupons?”

“No.”

Evelyn continued to scan and bag the order while the woman waited. The customer glanced at the register area as she played with her cell phone. “Do you have a child?” she asked, motioning to the phonics sheet.

Heat tickled the back of Evelyn’s neck. Hiding her discomfort, she turned and bagged three boxes of cereal. “Um . . .” Should she lie? It was only a customer. “Yes.”

“How old?”

How old was a first grader? “Six.”

“Boy or girl?”

What was this woman writing a book? “Girl.”

“That’s nice. What’s her name?”

Sometimes Evelyn preferred the grumpy, quiet customers. “Pearl,” she said the first name that popped in her head.

The girl’s manicured brow rose as if Pearl was an inappropriate name for a little girl. Evelyn lifted the filled bags onto the metal apron of the checkout. The girl pushed her cart forward and loaded the sacks of food. She returned to the card device and continued to play on her phone as she processed the rest of the order.

There was a quiet snick and crunch sound that caught Evelyn’s attention. She didn’t recognize the sound. When she heard it again she turned and blinked at the tiny white flash of light.
Snick-crunch, snick-crunch, snick-crunch.

The girl appeared to be dialing something, maybe playing a game or texting—Evelyn stilled. “Are you taking my picture?” Indignation tightened her brow.

The customer had the good grace to blush and lower her phone. She quickly slid her card. “It says wait for the cashier.”

Evelyn’s jaw dropped as she stared at the girl and her phone. She repeated herself, “Did you take my picture?”

The customer’s mouth opened to form a reply, but said nothing. Her lips curved in something of a satisfied smile and she suddenly said, “You know, I don’t need any of this stuff after all.”

Dodging the cart full of groceries she tucked her phone away and turned to flee the store.
What the hell?

“Hey!” Evelyn called. She abandoned her register and caught up to the girl at the automatic doors just before the chain of shopping carts. Her fingers curled around the girl’s sleeve. “Why did you take my picture? What about your groceries?”

She smirked and Evelyn’s blood ran cold. “Thanks for the interview.” She tugged away and bolted into the parking lot.

Fucking paparazzi!

Evelyn’s knees tightened as she thought to chase after her.

“Evelyn.” She stilled at the sharp tone in Mr. Gerhard’s voice. Gritting her teeth, she turned to her waxy-faced boss. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Speechless, she fumbled for an explanation. That woman had stolen pictures of her and—oh God, what had she told her?

“My office. Now.” Her manager turned and stalked to the back of the store.

Anger boiled up inside her chest. She marched back to her register and flicked off her light.

“What the hell was that?” Nick asked as he sent a customer on their way.

Hands trembling with outrage, she snapped, “That woman took pictures of me and left all her crap here!”

“Pictures? For what?”

She grabbed the stack of tabloids she’d collected over the week. Inky words mocked her and surrounded pictures of Lucian and his limo. Slamming them on the belt of Nick’s register, she gritted her teeth. “She was a reporter.”

He glanced down at the newspapers and cursed.

“Evelyn, please come to the back.” The intercom interrupted the cheery music filling the store and her stomach seemed to bottom out. Now she needed to deal with
this
.

She pressed the Process button on her register. The woman had slid a card, and Evelyn wanted a name. Steering the cart out of the way, she trudged back to Mr. Gerhard’s office like she was visiting the gallows.

Her heart clattered in her chest as her knuckles grazed the door.

“Come in.”

Her steps grew heavy as she pressed into the office. The floor, where she forced her gaze, was dusty. A crumpled receipt sat in the shadows beneath his wooden desk. She waited for him to speak. The words
you’re fired,
rang like a taunt in her head.

“Mind telling me what just happened?”

She shrugged.

“First I see you leave your register. Then I see you accost a customer. This is unacceptable.” When she said nothing, he said, “Shut the door and have a seat.”

Keeping her breathing steady, she pressed the door the remainder of the way closed and slowly paced to the chair across from his desk. Dropping into the seat, she kept her gaze down.

“You’re going to have to explain your actions.”

Her eyes closed and she sighed. “That customer was taking my picture, and then she said she didn’t need her groceries and left.”

“And you thought the right thing to do was chase after her and grab her? We could have a lawsuit.”

She glared at him. “She was taking photos of me!”

“That’s no excuse for your actions.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping his manicured mustache. He appraised her for some time then announced, “I’m changing your shift. I think you’d be better suited for evenings.”

Her breath froze like tiny vines of ice in her lungs. If she worked nights, she wouldn’t be able to continue her lessons. “I can’t do nights.”

“You’re still in the preliminary stage of employment. You need to be flexible if you intend to become a permanent employee.”

She didn’t want the evening shift. That meant walking home after dark. Less time with Lucian. No more working with Nick. And worst of all, no time to get tutored. All forms of pride took a backseat as she blinked back tears. “Please, Mr. Gerhard. My schedule works for me the way it is. I don’t want it to change.”

“I think you’d be better under Monica’s supervision.”

“Monica?”

“The evening store manager.”

Her mind ticked over solutions rapidly as she tried to figure out a reasonable argument. Maybe she should go back to her housekeeping job at Patras. Maybe she could talk to someone above Mr. Gerhard. She hadn’t even earned her first paycheck yet, and she had the sinking suspicion there wouldn’t be another.

She stood. “I’m sorry you feel that way. My schedule doesn’t allow for me to work a night shift. I’m afraid if you insist on changing it I’ll have to put in my resignation.”

His brows shot up from behind his coke-bottle glasses. “Now, I didn’t say you had to leave.”

Maybe this was for the best. Lucian offered to pay for her tutoring and the more she considered his offer the more grateful she became. Over the past week things had changed. She was seeing more and more reasons to trust that he wasn’t going to abandon her. A very romantic part of her believed, wholeheartedly, he’d always be there. She could figure something out. She was a survivor.

As she thought of possible solutions, she realized her manager was still talking. “. . . Now, I’m sure we could come to some agreement. What do you say we discuss this more over lunch? It is completely
your
choice however.”

As she caught his suggestion, a frown pinched her face. That slimy feeling returned, the one she usually got in Mr. Gerhard’s office. Why was she back here more than anyone else? His smile was patronizing beneath the mop of his mustache, and his eyes were hooded and magnified behind those thick lenses.

Deep down, she knew he was crossing a line, and she knew if Lucian found out he’d kill her manager. More complications she didn’t want to deal with.

The scent of peppermint and coffee was suddenly suffocating. Her gaze slipped over the washed-out grease stain on the breast pocket of his pink Clemons shirt just beneath the narcissistic name tag proclaiming he was something better than the rest of them.

“I’m trying to be your friend here, Evelyn.”

Her gaze flashed to his and something inside of her snapped. “No, you’re not. You’re trying to manipulate me. You’ve asked me to lunch over and over again and I’ve continually made it clear that I’m not interested. Have you ever asked Nick or Gary or Todd to lunch? No. And I imagine it has a lot more to do with their lack of breasts than their job performance.”