Page 55 of Forbidden Love Still Blooms

I'd knelt on a thorn earlier. I'd kneel on a thousand more to erase what he just said. “Today? Dez, no, that's—”

“What, you wanted a big ceremony and shit?” he snorts—I hear more laughter. His friends are with him in the car. “Get your ass to the courthouse at ten. We're doing this, time for the next big step.”

I know what that means. He's not talking about marriage or our future, this is part two of his plan to access my father's lottery winnings. It didn't matter that I'd told him there wasn't anything for him to get. Dez doesn't believe a word I say. Ever. “Don't we need … witnesses or something? My mom isn't free today, she'll want to be there.”

“I don't care,” he says. “I really don't. Hell, Chico or Jake can be your witness. They're coming along, I got one to spare.”

In the background there's more laughing. “Yeah!” Chico shouts. He gets louder, he's taken the phone. “I'll be whatever you need, baby. Just say the word.”

They all howl, the speaker crackling. My face burns hot, but I don't respond. I just end the call. “Assholes,” I mumble. No one hears me but the finches, and maybe the ghosts. Staring at the gravestone again, wondering what happened to Deena Hartford, I decide it doesn't matter. I can't stress about a second person buried in the ground.

But even as I tell myself that, I pause to look at the remnants of the bouquet. I picture Jordan carrying the flowers here, kneeling as I had, gently lying them in the dirt. She must have been his wife if she's Dez's mom.

Don't think about it.

Don't think about him.

Jordan had told me flat out that he didn't want or need anything from me. He never did, really. He'd been confused the way I was; chasing a misplaced, primal urge that could never be anything more.In another time, another place, without Dezmond threatening me, maybe Jordan and I could work.

It's time to see my feelings for Jordan Hartford are just a fantasy.

Cadence is packing the last of the sandcastle club's gear into her father's truck bed. She sees my car coming, waves as I park beside her. “Hey,” she says, “the kids all left for school. What happened?”

“Sorry.” Hopping out of my seat I offer her the plastic bag of snacks. I'd bought them in the hopes I'd make it back in time. “My card fell out in the parking lot. I spent twenty minutes searching for it.”

“You could have called.” She gives me a crooked grin. “I'd have driven up to help you look.”

That makes my heart flex. “Thanks. Well, here, take these anyway. It's junk food and juice, it'll last until the next club meeting, even if that's not for a hundred years.”

She laughs, taking the bag, putting it in the truck's backseat through the open window. I see her dad coming towards us from the shore with the last of the shovels. Cadence looks, too, her voice dropping to make sure we're the only ones listening. “I'm really glad you came today.”

“Me too,” I say.

“Promise me it won't be a one and done situation.”

I catch myself, ready to dodge, then realize I don't have to. “I'll be back.” It's a confident, honest answer. Cadence grins, giving me a light shove. I counter by hugging her tight, lifting her feet off the ground while she giggles.

“Okay, okay!” she squeals. “I get it, you're happy. Let go of me.”

I set her down, but my hands don't leave her shoulders. “Thanks,” I say, looking into her kind eyes. “I didn't know how much I missed this. It's the best thing to happen to me in forever.”

“Don't let your fiancé hear you say that!” Mr. Carver closes the distance, tossing the shovels in the truck. He dusts off his hands, oblivious to my changing mood when he mentions Dezmond. “When's the big day? Not that youhaveto invite me, but I'm a mean dancer.”

Cadence shakes her head, but she's half-smiling. I wish I could be as relaxed as they are. I'd take some of their real joy for my fake romance if they could lend it to me.

“It's today,” I blurt.

“It's what?” Cadence asks, mouth hanging open. “Say that again.”

“Ten at the courthouse.” My lips contort into a mockery of a smile. “Come along if you want. You can dance up the steps, Mr. Carver.” I laugh, but it's hollow, and they don't copy me. “Wait, it's a school day. You have class. Teach those art kids to make smart choices.”

“Lori …” Cadence whispers.

Waving a hand, I sit back in my open car door. “It's better this way. I don't want a big ceremony; I don't like being the center of attention.”

“Okay,” she agrees, eyes narrowing. “But do you likehim?”

“Cadie,” her father hisses.

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