Not His Bride Anymore novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Curb

Caleb chases her down the stairs, his lie about the brownies falls apart in front of the neighbors, and Ainsley leaves with Elliot.

I was halfway down the stairs when Caleb's voice came down after me.

"Ains! Ains, stop."

I did not stop.

I pushed through the front door of our building into the cold, with the white box held flat against my chest.

A gray car sat at the curb with its engine running.

The man behind the wheel got out slowly.

Elliot Wray.

I had last seen him five years ago at my nineteenth birthday dinner, and he was taller than I remembered.

He wore a dark coat, and he did not say my name.

"Your mother called," he said. "She said to drive. So I'm driving."

He opened the back door and stood beside it with his hands at his sides.

He did not touch me.

I had my foot on the curb edge when the building door banged open behind me.

Caleb came out in his shirtsleeves, and Savannah came right behind him.

Above us, the window of our loft filled with faces.

His mother. His stepfather. Two friends and their wives.

The neighbor from 3B had a glass in her hand.

"Ains, you're being ridiculous," Caleb said.

He said it loud enough for the window.

"It's a bet. It's a stupid bet. You're throwing away seven years over a box of cookies?"

"Brownies," I said.

My voice came out flat and clear in the cold air.

"Where did you buy them, Caleb?"

"At the airport. I told you. The shop by the gate."

"Which airport?"

"Ains."

"You were at the Fountain Square office for three days. Twenty minutes from our bed."

I turned the box and held it up so the window could see.

The streetlight caught the gold letters on the blue sticker.

"Marlow's Bakery. Hartwell."

Nobody said anything.

Somewhere above us, a woman asked, "Where's Hartwell?"

"Four hours north," I said. "Where Savannah's family keeps their cabin."

Savannah stood on the sidewalk in her socks.

She had run out without her shoes.

Her face had gone the color of the snow on the curb, and I saw her mouth open.

"Ains, it's a bakery," she said. "Everybody goes to that bakery. It's famous."

"You told me you were in Atlanta."

"I was."

"Say Atlanta again."

She looked at Caleb.

Caleb looked at the window, and I watched him pick the next lie.

"I ran up there for a client," he said. "Savannah's cousin knows the owner. It was a favor. I didn't tell you because I wanted to surprise you with the brownies."

"The brownies Savannah loves."

"They're good brownies."

"Where was the client, Caleb?"

His jaw worked.

"You're making a scene."

"You made the scene," I said. "I just read it out loud."

His mother's voice drifted down from the window, thin and shocked.

"Caleb? Who is Savannah's cousin?"

Savannah pulled her arms around herself.

"Please," she said to me. "Please don't do this here."

Not once did either of them say it was not true.

I put my hand into my coat pocket and closed my fingers around the ring.

Then I took the white box and set it down on the hood of Caleb's truck, right in front of him.

"Eat them," I said. "You've earned them."

Caleb's face went red.

"Where are you even going to go?" he said. "You haven't spoken to your mother in seven months. You have nobody."

Then he saw the man in the dark coat standing by the open car door.

"Who's that?"

"My ride."

"Did you call your mother?"

He said it too fast.

The red drained out of his face, and for one second he looked like someone who had just heard a door close in another part of the house.

"Did she send him?"

I looked at him.

"Yes," I said.

He took a step toward me.

Elliot moved a half step to the side, and that was all.

He did not raise a hand or his voice.

He only stood where Caleb would have to walk through him.

Caleb stopped.

"Elliot Wray," Caleb said, and he tried to laugh. "Her mother's errand boy."

Elliot said nothing at all.

I got into the back seat of the car.

Caleb leaned down toward the open door, close enough that I could smell the wine on him.

"You'll be back by Friday," he said, quiet now, just for me. "You always come back."

"No," I said. "I always lost."

Elliot shut the door.

The window above us was still full of faces, and none of them had moved.

Savannah was crying on the sidewalk in her socks, and Caleb was not looking at her at all.

Elliot got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb without a word.

For twenty minutes the only sound in the car was the heater.

I watched the streetlights flicker past, trying not to shake.

Then he turned onto a street lined with old maples, and I knew it before I saw the gate.

My mother's house.

The porch light was on, though it was past midnight.

My mother opened the door before I knocked, and she did not look surprised.

She had already set my old bedroom door open at the top of the stairs.

On the bed lay a suitcase, open, already packed with my winter things.

My mother had known I was coming before I did.

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