Page 62 of Faking the Pass
Mute Swans if I wasn’t mistaken. Romeo and Juliet, Presley had said their names were. They were beautiful.
The cove itself was a beautiful sight. Bordered by the road on one side and rocky rises on two others, the circular inlet was shaped like a cul du sac with several houses set around it, only instead of pavement in the middle, there was water.
At its far end, it opened up directly into the Atlantic Ocean.
Presley’s “cottage,” which was larger than any home I’d ever lived in other than Randy’s mansion, sat on one of the stone inclines. It was fully visible from this angle with its gray shingled sides and white trim. Classic coastal New England.
I was struck once again by what an idyllic home he’d chosen for himself.
Driving down Atlantic Avenue and looking at the oceanfront houses used to be one of my favorite things to do when I’d lived here in Eastport Bay.
If you had to be stuck somewhere, I had to admit this wasn’t a bad place to be.
The short walk had been a good idea after all—just what I needed. At the end of the drive, parked outside the gate, were several cars.
When I reached the mailbox, people jumped out of each of them and started snapping pictures.
I felt like turning around and running, but then I remembered this was what wewanted.
Thinking of Presley’s words,you haven’t done anything wrong, I lifted a hand to wave at them before turning around and slowly walking back to the house.
Not wanting to pry, I deliberately didn’t sift through Presley’s mail. But when I got back inside and dropped it on the counter, a large envelope slid free from the pile.
The postmark was from Los Angeles, and in the upper left corner was the unmistakable name of a law firm.
Good thing I hadn’t seen this outside—I might have passed out in the driveway andreallygiven the tabloids a show. They’d probably start claiming I was pregnant.
My breaths quickened when I saw my own name alongside Presley’s in the address area.
He glanced alertly at my face then quickly down at the envelope.
“I guess the summons has arrived,” he said, somehow sounding calm and unbothered.
How was he not freaking out right now? I certainly was.
“I was hoping he would drop the whole NDA lawsuit thing,” I admitted.
“Yeah, well I was hoping to gain six inches on my jumpshot in my thirties, but some things are impossible. And Randy Rylandnotbeing a dick is impossible.”
Presley pulled the papers out of the envelope and handed me a set to read as he read through his own copies.
As I scanned down the page, an invisible hand reached into my chest and began to squeeze my lungs flat.
“This says we have to be in court the end of next week,” I wheezed.
Now that my lungs were thoroughly squished, the cruel hand moved to my heart. I gripped the edge of the countertop, trying to keep myself steady.
This is bad. So, so bad.
Presley moved to my side. “You okay? Want to sit down?”
He guided me to sit on one of the stools and kept a hand on my back. “It’s going to be okay. This is what we expected, right?”
“Yes, but it’s real now. He reallyisgoing to ruin my whole life.”
“No he’s not,” Presley assured as his palm glided over my back. “No one has the power to do that, not even that little squirt. We’ve got this.”
“Do we, though?”
