Page 70 of Trust Again

We didn’t speak. Not when Spencer let himself sink back against his pillow and pulled me down with him. Not when he wrapped his arms around me and held me. Not when we kissed again, building force into a storm. We didn’t speak as we tumbled together again, this time Spencer taking me from behind. The only sound in the room was our breathing, the sounds of our bodies moving together and my moans, which I tried to muffle in his pillow this time, lest I wake up the entire house.

We still said nothing when I stood up in the middle of the night and got dressed. Spencer sat up and pulled me to him one more time. He played with a strand of my hair, which just a short while earlier had been wrapped around his fist. I was about to speak when Spencer shook his head and kissed me softly. I left his room and disappeared into my own.

The rest of the weekend passed like a dream. We all got out and explored, walking until our feet were sore.

Monica, Ethan and I took turns cooking. Kaden and Allie seemed so much in love that I would’ve gotten sick of watching them if I hadn’t adored them. And Spencer… was Spencer. His anger and depression had lifted. He cracked jokes and made everyone laugh. Gradually I came to accept his happiness as genuine. This was what worked for him. It was better than spending the whole time brooding about what was happening back at home.

While our friends were around, nothing had changed between us. At least that’s what we let them think. We fooled around and tried our very best to ignore the electricity between us. But as soon as the others had withdrawn to their rooms and we found ourselves alone together, all bets were off.

Chapter 24

Our bungalow in Beaverton had always been home. Since I could remember, the little gray house with the white wooden balcony was my escape. That had changed when I came back after the debacle with Nate. Sure, it was still my home. But it felt different. The cheery pink walls seemed to laugh at me. As did the many photos of Nate and me, pinned to my bulletin boards. I swept through my room like a tornado and ripped them all down. Everything that had to do with Nate landed in a huge pile, which I would have preferred to burn. But I had to keep up appearances for my dad, and a blazing bonfire would’ve raised questions.

Today, I pinned up pictures of my new friends from Woodshill on my two corkboards. We looked pretty damn happy, and a wave of gratefulness overcame me. I’d never expected to get in with a group of friends so quickly.

Our trip had been a total success, though my legs were still sore thanks to Kaden. He could have been a personal trainer—like a drill sergeant who yelled at you when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore. Not an experience I was eager to repeat any time soon.

But maybe my sore muscles were more to do with what Spencer and I had done after hours. While we’d kept a good distance from each other during the day, we’d jumped on each other at night, as if we both hadn’t gotten any for years. At first I was skeptical that a “friendship with benefits” could actually work, but it did. And pretty well, at that. Even better than “pretty well.” Spencer was just… amazing.

“Looks good,” came Dad’s voice from behind me. “It’s been a while since you updated those boards.”

“True.” I hadn’t given it much thought. I used to cut and paste things together all the time. But I’d lost interest in colorful, cheerful things after my divorce. Whenever I had scissors or craft paper in my hand, my mind would return to the thank-you cards I had planned for our wedding gifts.

Dad draped an arm over my shoulder as if reading my thoughts. We walked back to the living room together.

“Dawny, I wanted to tell you something else, and I hope it won’t upset you.”

“Oh, God, what happened? Dad, don’t tell me you’re sick.”

“Actually, I just wanted to tell you that I…” He cleared his throat. “I met someone.”

A sigh of relief escaped me, and I jabbed an elbow in his ribs. “Dad, that is fantastic news! Tell me everything!”

“C’mere, sit down,” Dad said, pointing to the living room couch. He let me take a sip of his homemade lemonade and sat beside me.

“Okay, so how did you meet? And what’s her name?”

“Her name’s Maureen. We met at the workshop. She had ordered a built-in closet, and while I was taking the measurements, something clicked between us.” Dad’s cheeks had turned pink.

It was so cute!

“And how long has it been going on?” I asked.

“About a month and a half. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it was something serious.”

My smile went from ear to ear. “Oh, Dad. I’m so happy for you! Now tell me about Maureen. Everything about her, from A to Z.”

Dad sipped from his glass. “Well, I was thinking it would be nice for you to ask her yourself. We’re having dinner with her and her daughter tonight.”

“What? Dad!”

“I’m sorry,” he rushed to say. “I didn’t know how to tell you on the phone, so I kept putting it off, and now… she should be here any minute.”

“For heaven’s sake, Dad! You can’t just make plans like this without warning me. I’m basically in pajamas,” I said, looking down at myself. It was true: I’d grabbed the first thing I found in my dresser. Today was laundry day. That meant I was wearing leggings and an oversized shirt. My hair was loosely braided and several strands had come out.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and I froze. I’d driven home because my class had been canceled and I thought Dad and I could hang out together. I hadn’t known I was going to be meeting my future stepmother.

My father stood. “Please be nice to them.”

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