Page 30 of For Lila, Forever

My hair and skin reek of bonfire, and when I pull her into my lap, I inhale the sweet scent of her peaches and cream lotion.

“I want to take you on a date,” I say. “A real date.”

Lila gives me a half-chuckle. “Good luck. I feel like we’re stuck on this island. And if the two of us left together … at the same time … like that wouldn’t be obvious.”

“No, no. I’ve been thinking about this all week,” I say. “So the grocery boat comes Monday and there’s always something we need from town. Supplies or something we can’t get at Beekman Grocer’s. Ask your grandma if you can go into town to grab whatever it is we need. Meanwhile, I’ll organize an trip to town with the twins, and we’ll play dumb when we realize we’re all hitching a ride on the same boat back to the mainland. And when we get there … we can ditch the twins and go off and do our own thing.”

“Clever …” she traces her finger up my chest. “But what if we can’t ditch the twins? Westley’s practically your shadow and Whitley goes wherever Westley does. Also, how would we get back?”

“Let me worry about the twins. And we’ll charter a ride back. There are tons of guys around here who’ll do it for a good price.”

Her mouth bunches at one side as she thinks this over. I’m sure she’s thinking of a million ways it could go wrong, but for once I need her to trust me. I’ve thought this through the last several days.

“I just want a day with you,” I say, brushing a tendril of pale blonde hair out of her face. “A day of not sneaking around. A day where I can hold your hand and not think twice about it.”

“As long as you’re sure—”

“I’m positive.” Hooking my hand around the back of her neck, I guide her mouth to mine, tasting her sweet lips. She grinds against me as we start to make out and my cock responds in record time.

I want her so badly.

I want every damn inch of her, every way possible.

Lila tugs at the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my shoulders, and I make a move for the waistband of her jeans.

I make a mental note to add condoms to the shopping list for Monday.

Chapter 18

Lila

I can’t believe we pulled this off.

Thayer takes my hand as we stroll down Hanover Boulevard, Rose Crossing’s version of Main Street USA. The shops are quaint if not a bit touristy, but still fun to peruse.

Lorelai ended up tagging along on the trip, claiming she had some shopping to do in town. Thayer was nervous at first, but it all worked out because the twins ended up going with her after she promised Whitley a new purse from the Gucci pop up store in town and Westley a new watch.

“Oh, that looks like a cute place.” I point up ahead, at a wooden sign with Pearlhouse Attic and Antiques painted onto it.

Thayer nods, as if to tell me to lead the way, and I drag him by the hand into a little antique shop filled to the brim with all kinds of curiosities—dolls and china and hats and cameras and furniture and tea cups and jewelry.

I stop by the jewelry display when an opal ring catches my eye.

My mom always loved anything opal, partly because it was her birthstone and partly because she thought it was one of the prettiest gems of all. Subtle and classy, she called it, each one with its own unique luster.

I take the pearly opal ring from the display and slide it over my right ring finger, stopping to admire the piece once it’s in place.

The stone is oval and the metal is some kind of faded white gold with filigree details on the band. It’s simple and understated, yet timeless. My mother would’ve loved this.

When I flip the ring over, I read the little tiny price sticker on the bottom of the band and almost have a heart attack.

This thing is seven hundred dollars …

I decide to put the ring back before anyone notices—only there’s a small problem.

It’s stuck.

I glance around the shop as a cool sweat rushes through me, praying no one’s watching me in my silent state of panic.

After a minute of trying in vain, my finger throbs, the skin around the ring turning an extremely obvious sign of pink.

“Hey,” Thayer’s hand lands on the small of my back a moment later. “What’d you find?”

Before I have a chance to respond, the middle-aged sales associate approaches the jewelry counter, her eyes immediately going to my hand.

“You like this, Lila?” Thayer asks.

“That’s a beautiful piece,” the saleslady says. “It once belonged to a Hedy Lamar, hence the asking price. We acquired that one last year at her great nephew’s estate sale. We have the certification if you’d like to see it.”

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