The Sweetheart Sham Page 7

  I want to say no. It works its way up my throat, about to spew out. I wanted him with me all the times he wasn’t.

  He was the best before. He taught me how to do everything. Tie my shoe, ride a bike, play basketball, fish. We were driving together before I was tall enough to reach the pedals. He instilled in me the importance of hard work. He loved us, especially Ma. A lot of kids would have been embarrassed by how they acted together, but I wasn’t. I was proud of how much he was there and how much he loved her. Then he and Mr. Monroe started their new business, and he wasn’t around as much for Ma or for me. He was there less and less until it turned into never.

  Dad’s waiting for an answer. I still want to say no and tell him where he can go. But I’m here with him, in the same house, all summer long. I hear Ma in my head reminding me to give him a chance. She’s right. I should give it a chance, if for no other reason than to make the summer less horrible.

  “Sure.”

  He looks relieved, which is ironic because I feel like I’m lost in another universe. Dad leads the way; I pump up my music and fall in step beside him. Dad takes the road from our house and turns left. If we have to hang out together then at least there’s no talking involved.

  Left from our house, we run past the Monroes’. I stare at her window in the top left, looking for lights. They’re not on, so she’s still asleep. I wonder how her date was last night. She looked pretty when she came over. She’s with your cousin. I run harder to try to push her out of my mind. She’s going to trip me up.

  We run past the golf course at the country club, and I glance at the back of Dad’s head. He was supposed to teach me how to play golf that summer; we never did. I still don’t know how to play. The only good part of that summer was Georgia Ann.

  Man, she was incredible. She is. I was prepared to tell everyone she was with me that night, and then I didn’t get to. Now she’s going out with Will. He probably dances with her, too, something I never got to do. Many thanks to Dad for that mess, too.

  We’re in the center of downtown when he stops running outside Lou’s Diner and Ice Cream Parlor. This place was the best. Dad points and I take out an earbud. Even though it’s barely 8 a.m., my hair is sticking to my face. “You want to get breakfast?” he asks.

  Ma thinks he deserves a chance. I think he had one and walked away. It’s just breakfast. I don’t trust myself to say anything, so I shrug.

  He must take it as a yes because he opens the door.

  Inside, the place is packed with the morning rush, but it looks the same way it always has. Even the same familiar faces sit in the same booths. A bar runs across the front of the place, tables and chairs with checkered tops and a couple booths line the floors and the windows. The Carlisles are on the far right in the back corner. They’ll probably die there together one day. Mrs. Forman is at a table with Mr. Reynolds, the same place they’ve always sat since both their spouses died. Always flirting, yet never making any moves. Chester Willis sits at the bar, third seat over. His hair is grayer now, but he’s still there. Lou is the one running around refilling coffee, along with two waitresses in white aprons. It smells like burnt coffee, grease, and maple syrup. This is the place everyone goes; it’s one of the only places in town, which is probably why.

  Lou nods toward Dad as we walk in. Dad waves back and we take a seat at the counter. “Breakfast in the middle of your run?” I ask.

  Dad flips over his coffee cup as a sign to fill it up. I look more like him than I want to admit. It’s easy to ignore when I haven’t seen him in so long. Sitting next to him though, anyone would know we’re related.

  “Only since we sold the business,” Dad says. Another reminder of all the things that went down. I feel it immediately, and he must too because he says, “Look, son. I know there’s a lot of things I messed up.”

  It’s too damn early to start this conversation. “Yeah, I don’t—”

  A waitress with brown eyes and brown hair pulled back comes over. She’s older but not someone I recognize. She knows Dad though because she smiles when she fills up his coffee mug. “Good to see you this morning.”

  Dad grins back. “Hannah, we both know you make my mornings better.” He’s got Montgomery charm turned way on. Dad points to me. I suddenly want to punch him. “This is my boy, Beau.”

  Hannah seems too excited to meet me. “Oh wow! The infamous son. Your daddy has told me about you. Welcome back.”

  I look between the two of them. This isn’t happening. There’s no way he’d bring me here and then flirt in front of me. “You too. I’m gonna go. The guys wanted to hang out later.”

  I stand and walk toward the door before he can say anything. The little bell rings as it opens and I rush out. Is she the one? Hannah. Anna. Whatever her name is. Ma’s tears replay in front of me. I can’t do this with him. I can’t be here and pretend he didn’t ruin everything. The bell on the door rings again and Dad calls my name.

  “What’s wrong?” Dad asks.

  I turn on him. “Nothing. I don’t want to interrupt your potential action.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is.”

  I scoff. “Right. Then how does she know about me?”

  “She’s a friend. I do have those.”

  I don’t believe that for a second. “A friend?”

  “Yes, son.”

  God, he’ll never understand. “Okay, go back to your ‘friend’ and stop.”

  “Stop what?” Dad looks confused, and angry, too. I hope he’s angry. I want him to feel a little bit of what I’ve felt for two years. A little bit of what Mom felt.

  I squeeze my hands into a fist. “Calling me son like that. Telling people about me.”

  Dad steps up toward me. “You are my son and I’m damn proud of you.”

  Proud? What does he have to be proud of? “You’d have to know me for that. You don’t. You probably know your friend Hannah or Anna better than me.”

  It must push him over the edge because his ears turn red in anger. Good. Some sort of reaction is better than us both walking around like we’re normal. Normal left us a long time ago.

  People are starting to stare at us. They aren’t even indiscreet about it. A few have stopped on the sidewalk, others glance out from inside the diner. The thing about small towns is everyone pays attention. I don’t care what they hear. Dad’s probably gotten off in all this anyway. I doubt he’s gone around telling everyone. What did he say when they asked about us?

  “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m your father,” he says in his dad voice. I haven’t heard that tone in a long time. He’s good at playing a part, even if it’s not real.

  “Only when it’s convenient,” I snap, and I turn around to walk away.

  “That’s not fair, Beau.”

  “What’s not fair is you destroying our family and disappearing!” Dad looks surprised that I’ve yelled, but he’s finally heard me. Whether it sticks or not. I stuff my headphones into my ear. “It’s probably better if I run alone,” I manage, and off I go. I turn to look back when I’m at the corner. He’s still standing outside the diner, watching after me. Again, he doesn’t come for me.

  It’s too late now anyway.

  …

  I’m almost back to the house when I spy Georgia Ann at her car, unloading a bunch of boxes. She looks like she’s struggling to get them out.

  “You need some help?” I yell from the street. She looks up at me and I head toward her. She rolls her eyes. Ouch.

  “I’m good,” she says, but the box doesn’t seem to budge from its space inside the hatchback. There’s a lot of stuff in that car. I chuckle. She gives me the eye. “What?” she snaps.

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “I can do it myself,” she says, pulling at the box with a groan.

  After another few seconds, I realize then I’m all sweaty from the run. I hope she doesn’t mind. I push past her and she yells at me. She may say she doesn’t want help, but that doesn’t mean
I’m listening. I adjust the top of the box and it comes out smoothly.

  “Fine, if you insist then I’m giving you all the heaviest ones.”

  “Lay it on me,” I say. She gives me this look I can’t decipher. I almost want her to yell at me, to hit me, to do something. It’d be better than her acting prim and proper about me being here.

  “All this is wedding stuff,” she says as I carry the box toward her house. Her arms are full of bags, and we head inside.

  The Monroe Estate hasn’t changed at all in the years I’ve been gone. The thing about these places is that they rarely do. These old houses have more history and character than anything else around. Mrs. J likes things done a certain way—she always has—and if she’s anything like Aunt Madison that means she doesn’t love change. I still remember the three of them, Ma, Aunt Madison and Mrs. J, sitting outside the backyard talking about Ma wanting to leave. I’d only stumbled on them, freshly smiling from a kiss with Georgie. I was never supposed to eavesdrop, but I did. They told her to think about it, not to make a rash decision. Ma said it had changed too much. She wasn’t sure she could do it. I didn’t know what she was talking about then. I wouldn’t until the end of the summer.

  If I had known then she was talking about Dad, if I had known that summer would’ve been the last one, I never would’ve kept Georgia Ann a secret. I would’ve spent more time with Will that summer and enjoyed all the uniqueness of Culler. I would’ve taken in every second like you’re supposed to when something amazing is ending.

  “You can put the boxes here,” Georgia Ann says, pointing to the dining room.

  “Beau,” Mr. Monroe says when he sees me. I reach out to shake his hand but he hugs me. “You look more like Hank every day.”

  I nod, but I don’t want to be anything like Dad. Mr. Monroe has known Dad since they were kids, like me, Georgie, and Will. Mr. Monroe and my dad started a robotics company right out of college, and they helped pioneer new technology and changing dynamics in the manufacturing. I’m talking like mega dollars—but they always said it wasn’t about the money, but about the science. Dad loved science, and so did Mr. Monroe. Dad always called him a genius. After we’d been in Atlanta for a few months, some other business offered to buy the company and so they sold half their shares. I only know that because Ma got some of the money in the divorce. It was ironic since the company was the reason Dad met the other woman, cheated, and destroyed the family.

  I wonder what Mr. Monroe said about Dad cheating on Ma and us leaving. He has to know everything, probably more than I do.

  “It’s good to have you back. That last summer you were here almost every day. I hope you’ll come by more this summer, too. We’ve missed you around here, haven’t we, Georgie?”

  We both glance toward her and she has this look of a deer in headlights. I was here a lot that summer. Georgia Ann and I would watch old movies while Will was at football practice. We’d make out behind her house. Sometimes, we’d just sit and talk about nothing and everything. I ate dinner here more often than I did at my own house. When Will was around, the three of us would have milkshakes and play board games, complaining about how hot it was outside. During those dog days of August, we’d float down the river or go fishing at Lexington’s Lake. It was a perfect, unbreakable summer. That is until it all shattered.

  “Yeah, it’s good,” she mutters. I know she’s remembering that summer, too. What part does she remember most? The two of us alone? The three of us together? The good moments or only the way it ended?

  She is dating your cousin.

  “I’m going to get more boxes,” Georgia Ann says.

  “I’ll help,” I say, hurrying after her. Once we’re outside, alone, I look at her again. It’s all I want to do, look at her. I hope Will knows how lucky he is to be dating her. “This is a lot of wedding stuff.”

  “It sure is. Welcome to my life.”

  “You’re really involved in it,” I say. I remember that summer her mom wanted her to jump into the Belles. I guess she’s done that after all.

  She shrugs. “Ma is juggling a lot.”

  “You get any breaks?”

  “I can sneak away sometimes, I reckon,” she says.

  “Maybe you’ll hang out with me?” I ask her.

  She puts a box in my arms and closes the trunk. “I was surprised when you showed up the other night.” No answer to that question, then.

  I smile. “Good surprised?”

  She’s not smiling. Damn. Maybe I have lost the Montgomery charm like she said. I don’t use it much in Atlanta with no girls around I want to impress. “Just surprised. You haven’t been here in a long time.”

  Her words are forceful, and I know what she’s thinking about that summer now. More specifically, I know she’s thinking about the worst part of it. “I know.”

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “I can explain,” I start. I want to tell her everything, but her mom pulls up next to us and I know I’ve lost the moment.

  “Beau!” Mrs. J says. “I’m talking to your momma right now.” She holds the phone up to my ear.

  “Hi, Ma,” I say into it, leaning so the two stacked boxes don’t fall over.

  “Baby, how you doing?” Ma asks.

  I look down at the boxes in my arms. “Staying busy.”

  “It’s so nice you’re there helping out. A Montgomery wedding is a big deal and there hasn’t been one in so long.” Ma pauses for a breath and I know something bigger is coming. Even on the phone, I can read her. “Jessamyn would never ask for help, but she’s balancing a lot more than she lets on. I know she’s got Georgie, but I want to make sure she has all the support she needs. I figured maybe you could be a gentleman; if you see any way to help, offer. She’ll never ask for help, but she won’t say no.”

  I look at Mrs. J and Georgia Ann, who are talking to each other next to me. Georgia Ann gives me a sideways glance. “I guess I can do that.”

  “That’s my boy. Love you. Give me back to Jessa.”

  “Love you,” I say back, and Mrs. J pulls the phone away, grabs a couple bags from her daughter, and goes inside.

  I’m always Ma’s boy. Even if I don’t want to, I never want to disappoint her. That’s how my life got turned into shit in the first place.

  Georgia Ann looks at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she says, and then she puts a third small box on top the stack in my arms.

  That Summer—June

  Beau

  “Are we ever going to talk about what happened?” I ask.

  Georgia Ann and I are sitting outside Lou’s Diner. I hand her a strawberry shortcake milkshake, her favorite. She’s obsessed with them. I’m obsessed with that kiss. It’s been a week since I got up the nerve to make a move, and neither of us has said anything about it.

  She smiles and takes a sip. I can almost see us sitting here only a few years ago. Her kicking her legs while we ate ice cream. I’d pull at her pigtails and Will’d yell at me for being mean to her. I’ve liked her as long as I can remember.

  “What happened?”

  “At the party,” I say. I’m nervous now. I didn’t think I’d have to remind her of our kiss. At least, I haven’t stopped thinking about it for one second since.

  Georgia Ann nods as we walk. “You mean when you kissed me.”

  “Yeah.”

  She shrugs it off. “You were drinking, so I reckon it doesn’t have to count.”

  “I wasn’t drinking,” I say as I reach out to touch her arm. She looks at my hand. We both stop walking. “I was totally sober.”

  Georgia Ann looks nervous all of a sudden. “You were? I saw Jake and Spencer drinking so I just thought you were, too.”

  I shake my head, but she starts to walk away again. She is not making this easy for me. We turn off Main Street toward our houses. I have to tell her now or she’s going to walk into her house and another day will pass without her knowing how I feel.

  “I mean
t what I said. You are beautiful, and I’ve been trying to figure out how I was going to kiss you the whole year. Before then, if I’m honest,” I say.

  She’s looking up at me. Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

  “I want to do it again,” I add.

  We’re standing closer now. It feels like my heart is racing. My palms are sweaty already. I lean into her. We’re close so our bodies are almost touching.

  “Well, stop it.” She steps away and walks ahead of me.

  I blink. I’m still not sure what’s happening. Unless she doesn’t want to kiss me. Was it not good before? “What?”

  Georgia Ann turns around to me. “Why do you want to kiss me? I’m your friend.”

  “Yeah, I know that, Georgia Ann, but why can’t we see if we’re more?” She doesn’t respond to me, just shakes her head. Maybe she doesn’t want to be more or maybe she doesn’t like me back. “You can tell me that you don’t want to. I’ll never do it again, and we can stay friends.”

  “I just…I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?”

  “If I should be kissing my friend.”

  “Okay,” I say, and I deflate a little. All right. Well, she was clear. Georgia Ann and I will always be what we are now.

  We walk a bit more and then she stops. I notice that she’s not beside me, so I turn toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  Before I’m fully processing what’s happening, she takes a few giant steps toward me and kisses me. It’s fast, like at the party, and I can feel her uncertainty at first. But then her lips are on mine. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer. Neither of us knows what we’re doing, but it feels right anyway. It feels right to be with Georgia Ann.

  When we pull away, I smile. “I thought you shouldn’t do that.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t always do what I should,” she says, and then presses her lips to mine again.

  Chapter Eight

  Beau

  I’ve spent the whole week successfully avoiding any interaction with Dad. Today, Will is doing something with Drew, Aunt Madison, and Uncle Ben for the wedding; Pappy Monroe and Granddad went to the Country Club. It’s just me at the house with Dad. I didn’t want to be at the house with Dad.