Page 49 of Queen of Ruin

“You don’t want to eat?” Darren holds up a forkful of pancakes while I open the back patio door.

I scrunch up my face. “I’ll pass,” I apologize, slipping through the doorway and holding it open for Cleo to pass with an amused look on her face.

“More for me!” I hear him yell behind me as Cleo shuts the door.

She’s still chuckling as we make our way across the deck and down the stairs to the clearing. The ends of her red scarf flutter in the breeze as we walk towards the dock.

“I didn’t fuck him for money.” She turns to me with a smile. “Have you seen that cute little ass?” she muses with a wink, and unfortunately, I have. “I gave him a freebie.”

I laugh, digging my toe into the ground to push up a weed as I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket. The morning air is crisp and cuts like a knife, but the sky is a robin's egg blue like that of a sunny summer day.

“I thought he was going to break down and cry yesterday when you told him we were going to go serve food at the church,” Cleo laughs.

“I think Alistair is more used to writing checks than refilling drinks,” I bemuse. “Although, he did manage to charm that one cranky elderly woman who kept complaining the turkey was dry.”

“I wasn’t sure about these rich boys at first, but they’re growing on me,” she offers.

“I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the private jet?” I raise an eyebrow.

She uses her fingers to demonstrate. “Just a tiny bit,” she laughs and then stops us just before we get to the dock. “I missed you.”

Her eyes are like molten pools of brown. I’ve never known Cleo to get emotional. She’s always tough as nails.

“I missed you, too.” I give her a hug and squeeze as tight as our bulky jackets will let us. “The year will be over before you know it,” I reassure, my voice muffled by her curly hair.

She pulls away, a sad expression on her face. “You won’t be back.”

I let go of her and continue walking on the dock towards the end.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” I shrug, taking a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs.

“No.” She places a hand over mine “I mean you won’t be back because that boy in there is in love with you.” She points towards the house,

Her bluntness throws me off and causes heat to rush to my cheeks.

“No, he’s not. It’s just…”

“You might be every boy's wet dream, but I know the difference between pussy whipped and love, hun.” She looks at me pointedly.

“This isn’t a movie, Cleo,” I sigh. “I’m not a prostitute with a heart of gold who gets the billionaire at the end,” I add dramatically.

Cleo purses her lips but remains quiet.

I lean further back in my chair, staring at the lake and chewing my fingernail. Cleo might think she knows everything, but she doesn’t know Darren, and she doesn’t know us. What we’ve been doing is playing house, and that’s not real.

None of this is real.

19

TREAD CAREFULLY

DARREN

Alistair points to the boxes on the floor. “Finally going through your parents' things?” he asks, cautiously.

“Just taking some things back to Georgetown with me.”

“You’re never going to sell this place, are you?” He looks around the library.

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