Page 18 of My Favorite Lost Cause
Something slightly bleak flashes in his eyes, as if he’s opened the shutters to show me what really lies underneath the attitude and the drinking and the one-night stands.
“I’m trying to get by, Maren. Same way you are.”
My heart sinks.
All this time I’d somehow convinced myself he mostly enjoyed his life, the past month or two aside. That he knew something I didn’t about how to make meaningless things pleasurable, about living in the present.
But no…he’s just handling his sadness less secretly than I’m handling mine. And maybe mine’s not the secret I thought it was either.
Charlie sure seems well aware of it.
10
CHARLIE
When Elijah rolls up to the house after breakfast and sits at the table to discuss costs, I’m faced with a dilemma. I already know I’m keeping the house—I emailed the property developer last night and gave him the news. But I don’t need Maren here running the cost of the renovation up astronomically, so do I come up with a clever excuse to get rid of her for this conversation, or am I just blatantly rude?
I opt for rude. It’s easier. She expects it of me anyway. “Maren, go for a walk while Elijah and I discuss costs.”
She raises a brow, reminding me very much of Kit, except if Kit did that, I’d fear for my life. “Excuse me?”
I run a hand over my face. “Look, I don’t need you telling him we need a roof made entirely of bulletproof glass or walls painted in liquid gold.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she sniffs. “Bulletproof glass is too heavy for a roof and gold would clash with the brass fixtures.”
Maren gives me the finger, and we both watch as she walks away. Elijah watches her just a moment too long, which might be because he’s wondering what our deal is, but more likely isbecause Maren is incredibly hot and wearing shorts that barely cover her ass.Again. I’m tempted to tell him she’s married, but I can’t think of a way to do it without sounding like a jealous dick.
“She’s married,” I bark.
Well, that was subtly done, Charles. Well played.
He cocks his head. “Yeah, I figured when I saw the Hope Diamond on her hand.”
Why the hell did I tell him, anyway? It’s none of my concern if she gets hit on down here. It would actually be ideal. Maybe she’d realize how much happier she could be without Harvey. Either way, I’ve got more important shit to deal with than Maren and her relationships. “How soon can you get started?”
He frowns. “You really ought to bid this out, Charlie. It’s a big job.”
He might be right, but I just want it…behind me. And I don’t want to babysit someone while it’s going on. “I need to be in San Antonio for half the summer and probably most of the fall, so I want to trust that I’m not getting screwed over when I’m gone. I know you. I won’t know anyone else who bids on this.”
“I can get some guys out here by tomorrow morning to start underpinning the foundation, but you know…” He glances out to where Maren is now walking. “It’s probably for the best if you’re not sleeping here while there’s work going on, at least until the structural stuff is done.”
I laugh. “Some kind of animal brushed Maren’s arm in the middle of the night. There’s not a chance she’s sleeping in the house again.”
He nods. “You’ve got another five nights here, right? Closest decent hotels would still be a haul. I guess we could take a look at those cottages your mom had us build. You could sleep there and use the kitchen in the big house to eat.”
I heave a sigh. Fuck. I’ve got no idea what my mom usedthose cottages for, if she used them at all, but they’re probably full of art supplies or garbage, and only one of them has plumbing. “I guess they can’t be in worse shape than the house.”
“So…” He glances toward Maren again. “Do you want to look at just one of the cottages or both?”
Why the fuck did she introduce herself as my sister? “She’s my stepsister. We were in college when our parents got married,” I tell him. And then I realize I’ve just made it sound as if sleeping with my stepsister isokay. “But we’d be better off with separate places if possible.”
We find Maren on the path, and together, the three of us walk around to the other side of the cove to the first of the cottages. The wood steps Elijah and I built fourteen years ago have seen better days, but they’re sturdy. I unlock the door, bracing for old lawnmowers on top of easels on top of discarded furniture…and find a furnished room instead. There’s a bed with a quilt folded neatly at the mattress’s end, a small nightstand with a lamp, a bookshelf stocked with mysteries and romances, a small desk with office supplies.
And a half bottle of the Chanel perfume I got my mom every year.
Fuck. I wince, hit by yet another wave of guilt, and then slide open the drawer of a small desk, hoping for another letter, some explanation for the fact that she never told me things had gotten so bad. “My mom must have been living out here. Why the fuck didn’t she tell me she’d had to move out of the house?”
Maren crosses to where I stand and squeezes my hand. “We’ll figure it out, Charlie, okay?”
