Page 34 of Holly Jolly Cake Fight
“I don’t shower with the curtain open.”
Laurin snorted. “Hangover hasn’t done much to fix your sass, I see. Go on, now.”
Once Candace was under the powerful jet, she couldn’t think about anything but what he’d said. She did have a bad attitude, a horrible one. She had cultivated it especially for the challenge, but she’d always been arrogant and stubborn. It may not have ruined her marriage, but it hadn’t helped any. These days, she didn’t even have to try to run men off. They didn’t come anywhere near her.
Did it make any difference, though? Laurin was nice, attractive, optimistic, and helpful, but he still didn’t have a ring on his finger. None of his good qualities had kept him with his kid’s mom.
That didn’t even make sense. She couldn’t imagine anyone would want to leave Laurin. Then again, she really didn’t know what the story was there. Was he a widower and still grieved? Or was his daughter from a one-night stand, some soccer groupie, and he refused to be baby-trapped, instead getting custody of the girl?
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except a stable, comfortable life. That meant a good business and a nice home; that was it. Candace didn’t want to take over the world. She just wanted peace and quiet.
Laurin returned with the coffee, announcing his presence and making a big show of tugging the curtain tightly so there was no way for it to get pushed aside as he set the coffee on the rim near her head. He did the same on the other side to unplug the drain so it wouldn’t overflow. He was careful not to brush the foot Candace had tossed over the side until he deliberately touched the ankle where the tattoo was now exposed, the shower having washed the concealer away.
He traced the dying rose, the serpent coiled around it, the lip of the broken vase, the water draining from it. “That’s . . . intense,” he said dryly. She tried to reclaim the ankle, but then he rubbed the banner going across it. “Fide nemini? Trust . . . ah . . . no one?”
“You speak Latin?”
“No, but I did a couple years of school in France, and French schools like to force students to read Old French. If nothing else, it made me better at translating stuff like this. That’s a very lonely motto.”
Candace carefully sat up to sip her coffee. If humoring his interest in her leg was payment for caffeine, it was worth it. “It’s a very lonely world.”
He grumbled at that. “Only if you make it that way. I get that if you trust too many people, you’re going to be hurt. Even if you trust only a few people, you’re going to get hurt sometimes, but is it worth it to cut yourself off from everybody just to avoid it?”
“I think so.”
She heard the toilet lid close and had a feeling Laurin was parking himself there for a minute. The water was hot, and she had no intention of getting out of the tub anytime soon, so she wasn’t going to argue with him about it.
Even if the proximity and the raw feelings she was still working through were making her heart ache.
“You’re miserable, Candace.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You act like you don’t need anyone, but I can see how wounded you are by people rejecting you . . . and they only do it because you force them to. I get that you’re probably different when you’re home, but I’m thinking this tattoo shows that you’re not all that different. You push everyone away, don’t you?”
Candace lay back in the tub and stared up at the ceiling. It was aged and warped, patches over patches, years of mildew and leaky roofs and abuse from weekenders. “I don’t usually have to push. Everyone leaves, whether I want them to or not. So yeah, I think it’s worth it to cut myself off.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why? I see you taking in all the strays, making friends with them. The newbies? Maybe one of you will be invited back. It might be you, but Zara? She’s already an influencer. You’ll never see any of them again. The veterans? We’ll all use you and turn on you the moment we can use it to our advantage.”
“This is two weeks. If I maintain a friendship with anyone here, great. If not? I’ll have some good memories. Ten years from now, if I pass Harper on the street, I’ll gladly invite herout for a coffee. But I’m not talking about how we are here. I’m talking about back home.”
Candace laughed callously. “I bet you had tons of friends back in your soccer days, teammates who make serious money now, didn’t you?”
“What of it?”
“You live with your mom. You work with your mom. So what happened to all those friends when you needed someone to help you out?”
Laurin was silent for a while. She heard him stand and pace a couple steps. “Do you think I live with her because I can’t afford my own place?”
“Why else would you live with her?”
“Because I love her? Because she was lonely? Because of Vivvy? I might not have any money left from my football days, but I’m happy with my life. If I wasn’t, I’d change things. You can change things too, you know.”
Laurin wasn’t about to be brought down by Candace’s moping. He spent the morning prepping food for lunch for him and Candace, cleaning the kitchen, and building a nice fire. He set their little TV to quiet adult contemporary rock but changed his mind after a double-header of Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift. He defaulted to light classical. Not his thing, but he figured it would be gentle enough on her brain.
He refilled her coffee twice. She thanked him for that, protested when he topped off the tub with hot water.
