15. Winter

FIFTEEN

WINTER

I walked to the front gates of Amelia Manor in a daze. I've been standing at the entrance for a solid five minutes, phone in hand. I'm unable to make my fingers tap the options to order a ride, so when Leo pulls up beside me in a blacked-out Mercedes G-wagon, I'm conflicted.

"I'll take you home," he says.

"Uh," I say, shivering as the temperatures fall quickly now that the sun has fully set.

"I promise you're safe with me to drive you into the district. Plus, do you really want to sit out here in the dark while you wait for an Uber?"

No. No, I really do not.

I get into the passenger seat without a word.

The drive over is mostly silent until we cross over the Potomac River. Kitty nestles in my lap.

"Sooo," Leo drawls. "Wanna talk about what happened?"

I roll both lips into my mouth, pressing the flesh into my teeth.

"What's there to talk about?" I say after a solid minute of silence .

Leo laughs. "You two are so alike," he says, his voice filled with amusement.

I don't say anything, I just turn toward the window.

"For what it's worth, he's really different when you're around. He even punched me for making you feel uncomfortable."

I swing back around to face him. "Come again?" My face must reflect the horror I feel.

"Yeah," he waves his hand in the air, a quick flick of his wrist. "I knew I was poking the bear. He's really twisted up about you."

"He punched you?" I repeat, still not understanding but also pushing back the entirely fucked-up part of me that perks up a bit that he'd punch his best friend over me.

"Again, like I said, I deserved it."

He takes the roundabout near Foggy Bottom, and I'm grateful to only have a few more minutes on this ride from hell.

"Anyway, you seem like a relationship girl," he says, and I open my mouth to correct him when he puts his hand up to silence me. I snap my mouth shut. "And I think my boy actually likes you, but he's not really up for much beyond a physical thing. You know, with everything going on."

I nod several times, then lean into my fist, propping it on the windowsill. I say nothing more.

He pulls up to my apartment building but parks instead of dropping me off at the front.

"You don't have to walk me in," I say. My throat feels dry.

"Yes, I do. I'll see you to your door."

"This is my door. The front door to the building where I reside, in fact," I say, pointing to the brightly lit glass fa?ade of 110UWest.

He sighs and says nothing as he opens the door.

I follow behind him because what else can I do? And I try to keep my eyes on his broad back as we move through the lobby.

Suddenly, the energy around the space feels strange. Heavy. I turn back to look out the glass windows. There's nothing out of the ordinary.

Chill out.

"Everything okay?" Leo's voice is unexpected, and I jump. "Woah, gallita . "

He moves his eyes around the lobby and out toward the street. His eyes narrow and his face changes before my eyes. The friendly, joking man from the ride over looks terrifying as he assesses our surroundings.

I barely register the feeling of Kitty's paws on my leg or the fact that Leo just referred to me as a little chicken.

All my consciousness centers around the slamming of my heart against my breastbone.

I take a step away, picking up Kitty and whirling around to walk backward.

Leo looks at my face, and something in it has him putting his palms out in front of him.

"Hey," he says, his voice gentling. "I'm not going to hurt you, Winter," he says. Then he smiles, and his face shifts again.

I'm losing it. This day has all been entirely too much.

Dr. Stevenson was right. I'm not cut out for this. And that has me stifling a sob—trapping it inside my ribs.

"Let me see you to your apartment. He'll want me to make sure you get in safely."

I nod, my lips numb. Kitty licks my chin.

Leo ushers me toward the elevator, and of course Marcus exits when the doors slide open.

"Kitty's mom! How are you this evening?" he asks, his dimples immediately on display. I clench my teeth so hard no sound comes out .

"That good, huh?" His eyes flick to Leo, and I'm grateful when Leo gestures for me to enter and the doors slide closed.

"Well, this is me," I say when we reach the seventh floor, as if he didn't already know which apartment is mine since he's been leading the way.

He waits quietly as I unlock the door. Once I enter the apartment, I turn and say, "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome, gallita." And then he's gone.

I lock us in, resting my head against the solid wood doorframe for several minutes.

"Kitty," I say, not lifting my head from the door. "What the hell have I done?"

Vexingly, I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, and I'm angry when I feel them fall.

I'm angry that when I was in Hunter's arms, I allowed myself to let go so dramatically.

I'm angry that it would be so ethically wrong for me to be with him.

I'm angry that I feel so much for this man that I cannot have and should not want.

I'm angry that I don't regret any of it in the slightest.

Kitty crawls into my lap once I sink to the floor. I cry and cry until I can't breathe through my nose and a headache forms behind my eyeballs.

And then, I do the only thing I know to do. I call Veronica.

Two hours later, I'm curled up on the sofa with my head in Veronica's lap and slathered in a serum-soaked face mask. She brought over chocolate, Dr.Pepper, and Hot Cheetos—my period cravings for when I'm feeling particularly crappy.

I guess they'll work in this situation too.

Veronica runs her fingers through my hair, gently detangling my curls with a wide-toothed comb and braiding them into medium-sized plaits.

An early 2000s chick flick streams on the TV, but I'm not paying attention .

"As much as you know that I'm always down for an indoor girls' night, the fact that you looked like you got stung in the face by bees when you opened the door leads me to believe that something happened today. And while I can be patient?—"

My side eye cuts her off.

"Okay, so I'm able to be patient with you . But I'm dying here. So let me ask this first question. Are you okay now? Clearly, you weren't okay earlier. But we'll get to that."

I sit up so I can look at her fully. Only a small section of my hair is unbraided, and I move to finish working on it myself.

"I'm okay now," I say.

She expects me to add more and leans forward to stare into my eyes when I don't.

I peel the sheet off my face and rub in the serum.

"Okay, thank you for that answer. I guess," she says. She rolls her eyes. "Okay, so question number two. What happened?"

I finish the last braid and grab the silk elastic to pull my hair together at the top of my head. Without looking at her, I say, "Well, I made an ill-advised decision that ultimately resulted in my emotional turmoil."

She looks at me, her face blank, until she says, "What the hell are you saying, Winter?"

I put my hair bonnet on, securing it at the front with a bow.

"I did something stupid. Very stupid," I say.

"You? Stupid? I doubt that, Win."

"No, Veronica, I did something really, really, really stupid."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she says, "Well, shit, tell me what happened." Her voice has a thin, strangled cast.

I breathe in and out and in again before finally saying in one breath, "I kissed my client's dad and let him feel me up while I dry-humped his leg and came on a tree."

I look at her.

And she looks at me.

And then she says, "I'm trying to compute the words you said and the order in which you said them, but I'm having a really hard time."

I get up from the couch and walk to the bathroom, desperately trying to avoid this conversation.

"Winter Leigh Vaughan, don't you run away from me," she says, and she grunts as she tries to get up from the couch to follow me. She's only about four months along, but her newly acquired pelvic dysfunction diagnosis makes moving quickly painful.

"Veronica, you heard what I said. Please don't make me repeat myself."

I turn on the tap and squirt too much toothpaste on my toothbrush. I shove it in my mouth anyway, focusing on cleaning all thirty-two of my teeth.

"Okay, so let me recap. You kissed your client's father."

I nod.

"The hot one," she continues.

I nod again.

"And you did some…heavy petting."

I pause for a moment and then nod.

"Okay, following. And then you came on a tree?"

I spit out the toothpaste and add, "Against a tree. I was pressed against a tree."

"Ah, I see. I was worried about you getting splinters in your cooch."

I choke as I laugh at the unexpected image, sputtering into the sink.

"This is not a time for jokes, Veronica!"

I rinse my mouth out only to look up and see her smiling at me as if she's just won the lottery. Or been told that there was an endless supply of boiled Chesapeake Bay crab in the lobby.

That girl does love her seafood.

"Why are you smiling?" I ask, dismayed.

She presses both hands on her chest and then steps back into the living room, splaying her hands wide and spinning around like Julie Andrews at the beginning of Sound of Music.

"I'm smiling because you kissed Hot Daddy ! And you did sexy things ! And you came ! I'm so fucking happy for you!" She spins again and then clutches her belly, a grimace passing across her face.

"What's happening!" I rush over to her and she waves me off.

"It's okay," she says, breathing slowly. "Just a little cramp."

She stands up more fully, rocking her hips from side to side. "See? It's already gone. Nothing to stress about."

I hover next to her, watching her every move.

When her face and body finally fully relax, I unclench enough to breathe.

"Sorry, I was…" I turn to tidy up our mess, needing my hands to be busy. "I was a little worried is all."

I feel her walk up behind me.

"Winter."

I turn to her.

"I'm okay." She gives me a look of understanding that I close my eyes against.

"I'm so grateful for you, Veronica," I whisper.

"I love you too, Winter. You're the sister of my heart, and I'll always be there for you," she replies.

We're both crying now.

"Shit, now we're both a mess," I say.

"Well, I'm hormonal. What's your excuse?"

I laugh and throw a pillow at her.

Veronica sleeps over, and I give her my bed for a few reasons. One, while we could fit in my king-sized bed, we both like our space. Two, Veronica runs at approximately 150 degrees, and if I get an inch too close, she's liable to kick me off the bed. And three, Veronica has always been a wild sleeper.

So when we both wake up in the morning, we feel better.

"I want to take you to that café I promised to bring you to," I say to Veronica once we're both dressed.

"Oh, my God, I'd legitimately merk someone for a blueberry scone. Like, homicide in the first degree. Do they have blueberry scones?" She looks at me as if my answer will make or break the survival of humanity.

"Well, let's go see," I say.

When we finally settle on the outdoor patio, Veronica beams from ear to ear as a fresh blueberry scone appears before her.

"You weren't lying, babe. This place is cool," she says, breaking the scone in half.

Dichotomy looks different in the morning daylight but no less cool. Lush vines of ivy and wisteria weave through the electrical lines where the Edison bulbs are strung. They've pulled a few carts with discounted books toward the front entrance. I picked a copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God from the shelves. Planters at the patio's entrance have milkweed, lavender, and verbena. Butterflies hop from flower to flower.

Dichotomy is peaceful.

"I'm so glad I found this place," I say. I opt for a salmon bagel with lox, and I'm stunned by the flavor of the wood-smoked fish resting on top of the homemade cream cheese. Kitty stands on his hind legs, sniffing the air and whining for a piece of my salmon. I tell him to get down, but his sad eyes compel me to give him a small piece of the fish.

I'm smashing it between my fingers to double check for bones when we're interrupted.

"Hey, neighbor. Feeling better today?" I hear from my left shoulder.

Looking up, I see Marcus standing near the table.

Marcus and his goddamn dimples.

"This is awkward, but," he leans closer. "You do know you've never told me your name, right?"

I feel a blush crawl down from my hairline. Or maybe it's sweat.

"You're neighbors?" Veronica calls out. She's eyeing Marcus down, but not in the way that I'd expect. Her face is unreadable.

"Yes, we met in the dog park a few weeks ago, and he's the owner of this fine establishment," I say, raising my hands toward Marcus as if I were showcasing a prize on a game show. "Marcus, meet my best friend, Veronica."

He smiles, and dimple one and dimple two pop out.

"Are you enjoying your meal?" Marcus asks, but he's not looking at me. He's looking at Veronica.

She nods, then she averts her gaze.

"I'm glad," Marcus says. He straightens up. "Well, I'm off for the day. Just came in to check the inventory that came in last night. But I'll see you around. Right, neighbor?"

"Sure thing," I reply. I can't help but notice that Marcus is trying to regain Veronica's gaze.

He gives up and taps his knuckles on the wrought-iron table. Then he leaves.

"Those dimples should be illegal," I say to Veronica, picking up my iced tea. It's not just regular southern iced tea. It's basil and raspberry-infused tea with lemonade.

"Eh," Veronica says. "He's all right."

I rear back. "You don't think that drop of six-foot-three goodness deserves more than an ‘all right?'" I lean over to put the back of my hand on her forehead. She bats it away.

"Was he handsome? Sure, I suppose. But lots of men are. Anyway, let's talk about you and Hot Daddy." The flush travels from my face down to my chest.

"Could we not, Rons?" I cover my eyes.

"Oh-ho-ho, we most certainly will."

"Ugh," I say, extending the sound as I slouch deeply into my chair. "Veronica, I don't know what I'm going to do. I obviously can't show my face to him again."

She leans toward me abruptly. "And why not?" She's trying to keep her voice low but failing.

"Because, Veronica, he's my client's father ."

"So? He's not your client."

"Surely, the licensing board will frown upon this."

"Who the fuck says they have to know?" She waves her arms around to make her point. "But first, I need a name."

"Why?" I jerk, adrenaline rushing through me.

"Because I'm going to Google him, duh!" Her phone is in her hand, and she's looking at me with blatant expectation.

I put my hand over hers and lower her phone. "No need because I need to stay away from him." I bite my fingernails again, choosing to attack my thumb this time.

"No, you need to nut," she says entirely too loudly, so loudly, in fact, that Kitty skitters to a hyper-alert position in search of threats. I look around quickly. Thankfully, the patio is empty.

"Take your hand out of your mouth, Winter. What I'm about to say is vitally important."

I drop my hand and turn to face her more fully.

"Winter, I love you like a sister. No, not like a sister. You are my sister. And I say this with so much love. So much love. But you need to get your back blown out in the most serious way." Her face is so severe I can't help but laugh.

It's loud, full-bodied .

"Okay, but…maybe it doesn't have to be him?"

She leans into her seat, contemplating the question. "Well, I do agree you should play the field. Who are your other prospects?"

I gaze off, looking at the butterflies flitting around the outdoor space. Even though I try to imagine any other man instead of H, he's all I can think of. The look of lust in his eyes. The feeling of him pressed against me, his cock…

I shake my head. It needs to be someone else.

I think back to my list.

Maybe this first time shouldn't be with someone I love.

"Maybe Marcus would…" I trail off as she inhales sharply. "What, Rons? You don't think he'd be interested?"

She chews on her lip for a moment. "No, he'd definitely be interested. He is interested. It's just that…I get the sense that he's a fuckboy. You don't want to get caught up in that."

"Don't fuckboys stay unattached? Isn't that exactly what I want?"

Veronica looks worried as she thinks about what I say but is saved from having to respond when a waiter comes up to us.

"Here's your chocolate chip cookie," he says. He's dressed in total hipster fashion. Wire-rimmed glasses frame his face, and his skin looks like he's never seen the sun. He has on a black button-down shirt and black pants, which I'm sure is part of his uniform, but on top, he wears houndstooth suspenders and a green tweed bow tie.

"We didn't order any cookies," Veronica says.

"It's from a gentleman. The barista told me he placed the order but said he had to leave. He requested that we give the cookies to you."

I look around for anyone who might have ordered the cookie for us.

"Did you see what he looked like?" I ask. I analyze the anxiety bubbling up in my stomach right now .

Is it necessary for this to make you nervous, Winter? Why are you scared right now?

In the distance, two birds fight in a tree.

"Nah, I didn't. I'll ask the barista for you, though?" He looks back at the line of customers who suddenly appear at the cash wrap.

"It's okay," I say. "Thank you for the cookie." I look at the bakery item as if it were radioactive.

"You have a secret admirer," Veronica says, taking a big bite.

"Yeah," I reply. But I can't shake the feeling that's not a good thing.