Page 35 of The Spare

“Please, Lex. Would you at least think about it?” he murmurs.

I swallow hard. “For your pop. I’ll think about it.”

Reaching for my hand, he gives it a squeeze. The spark causing me to turn away so he doesn’t discover what he still does to me. “Thank you. Please know. Even if you say no, I won’t hold it against you. I meant how sorry I am. Besides turning a blind eye to the state of Sutter Creek, the way I treated you is my biggest regret.”

And with that, I turn and head for home with my heart in my throat.

Sitting alone in my office, I feel as if I’m still questioning if what happened the other night at Luigi’s was real. It’s irrational how many times over the years I’ve thought of him. In the middle of the night, picturing us lying on our backs side by side under a star-lit sky. I’m overwhelmed by the possibility of a marriage to Sam.

Would it be a special kind of torture being close to him, but remaining untouchable?

The shock of my conversation with Sam has eased, but not the impact of his plea for help. “Thank you. Please know. Even if you say no, I won’t hold it against you. I meant how sorry I am. Besides turning a blind eye to the state of Sutter Creek, the way I treated you is my biggest regret.” He seemed genuinely apologetic. But then again, he has an agenda.

Thankfully, Sam hasn’t pressed me for an answer. And for that, I’m thankful. I need to make this decision carefully, without any undue influence. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my hands against my closed lids to steady the ridiculous, frantic thoughts spiraling in my mind.

“You okay, dear?”

My head pops up. “Oh, yes, Bunny. I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind.”

“You’re too young to be juggling so much. Don’t let this place become such a big piece of your life that you don’t leave room for relationships.”

Ha. If she only knew. “I’m actually trying to figure that out now.”

“Oh, really?” she asks in a singsong voice. “I won’t push you to share until you’re ready. But this old bird would love to hear all about it when you are.” She snickers. “Just tell me. Is he handsome?” She rubs her palms together in anticipation of my answer. What would she do if I said no, he’s butt ugly with a heart of gold?

“He’s a little too good-looking.” It’s downright unfair, is what it is.

“I can only imagine how beautiful your children would be,” Bunny says with hearts in her eyes.

“Bunny! I’m trying to figure out whether it’s feasible to get serious with everything on my plate. And you’re already planning baby showers.” I roll my eyes.

“So sue me. I’ve known you a long time, dear. I only want what’s best.” She’s so sweet. And she’s right. She’s one of the few positive women who are a constant in my life. Outside my girl tribe. “But if you have the opportunity to try on a romance and see how it fits, I say go for it. Even if it doesn’t work out long-term, you won’t regret trying.”

Wanna bet?

“How’s Henry doing?”

I smile. “I think Grandpa’s good. I’ve been so busy I haven’t seen as much of him as I’d like. I’ll go by there tonight.”

“You do that. And tell him we miss him around here.” She winks.

“I’ll do that.” I pack up my bag on autopilot, locking the office doors behind me and stepping out into the summer night. It’s not nearly as hot and humid as it had been on the way to work this morning.

Back in my home, the silence seems to taunt me, allowing room for things I’d prefer to ignore for a while longer. Pouring myself a glass of water, I stand by the picture window, staring up at the glittering stars in the sky. My mind spins in endless circles. A contract marriage for one year. It’s ridiculous. Like something from a romance novel. Even if it’s a temporary business arrangement that could protect Sutter Creek, if I say yes, I am tethering myself to Sam. The boy I gave my heart to, only for him to throw it away.

I lean my forehead against the cool glass, letting out a ragged breath. For twenty years, I’ve carried the invisible scars of his rejection. I’ve wondered if I wasn’t pretty enough, fun enough, or interesting enough for the boy who used to tuck wildflowers behind my ear.

Entering into a fake marriage with him feels like walking willingly into a minefield.

How am I supposed to survive three hundred and sixty-five days of pretending to be his wife without letting him break what’s left of my heart? How do I keep the wall up when a simple squeeze of his hand still sends shivers up my spine?

My gaze lands on the kitchen clock. 7:15. Jeez, already? I promised Grandpa I’d stop by his house for dinner. I quickly push the thoughts of Sam, the trust fund, and the proposal into a locked compartment in my mind. Right now, I need to focus on the one man who would never hurt me. A man who cherished the woman he married.

Forty-five minutes later, I let myself into Grandpa’s house with my spare key. I hate being so far away, but my home is so much closer to the hospital. This is helpful for the early morning rounds and taking after-hours call.

“Grandpa?” I call out, dropping my tote bag on the entry bench. “Sorry I’m late, clinic ran over with—” I stop short when I round the corner to the kitchen and find the lights are off and nothing is on the table. Usually by this time, the kitchen is filled with the sizzle of a skillet or the radio humming low in the background. Tonight, the stove is cold, and the house is dead silent. He hasn’t even started dinner.

I walk into the living room and pause in the doorway. There Grandpa Henry sits slouched back in his favorite leather armchair, his chin resting against his chest. An old hardcover book on WWII history lies open. He looks smaller somehow in that massive chair. He’s so still that my heart skips a beat before I catch the reassuring movement of his lungs, rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths.