AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Boy, I was born and raised up on this mountain. I know everything that moves. Hell, I know when a tree falls out in these woods before it even hits the ground,” Mary declares proudly. “And I’ve known the three of you long enough to tell when you’re positively smitten. Where’d your angel girl Selina go?”
The guys and I exchange quick glances. Matthew clears his throat. “She went back to Providence.”
“Already? I thought you were spending Christmas and New Year’s together,” Mary replies, understandably confused. But then it hits her. “No. Don’t tell me Cynthia stuck her claws in that pie…”
“Yeah,” I sigh deeply. “But we’re partly to blame as well. We weren’t entirely forthcoming with Selina, either, at least where Cynthia was concerned.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Mary asks. “To put the bitch back in the bottle?”
“I don’t know if we can do that,” Matthew says. “But yeah, we were looking to talk to Cynthia and remind her that there is nothing left between us. Hasn’t been since last year.”
Mary shakes her head in dismay. “Don’t remind me of last year. That’s something I never want to live through again. Cynthia made her own bed—you don’t have to share it with her. Mind your own lives and your own business.”
“We were trying to do just that,” I tell Mary. “But she wouldn’t let us.”
“Come on, you boys should have known better.” she shoots back. “Come on, just be glad she’s gone.” She takes out a spare key and lets herself into the cabin. “God knows this mountain is better off without Cynthia on it.”
Jason can’t help but chuckle dryly. “I think we’re all better off without Cynthia, not just the mountain.”
“You can say that again, kiddo!” Mary says. “I’m gonna go get things done around this place. The three of you had better not still be here when I’m done.”
“Roger that, ma’am,” Matthew replies.
She closes the door, leaving us on the porch as we glance at each other with wondering eyes. Concern and fear work their way through us as we begin to fathom the many ways in which this entire situation could get even worse. It’s cold out here, despite the sun peeking through the scattering clouds. Each deep breath is accompanied by a subtle sting in my lungs. My nose burns a little, and generous curls of steam roll off my tongue with every word that comes out. It’s only noon. It’ll get warmer before the night sets down again and freezes the mountain once more.
“I don’t like this.” The words roll off my tongue with too much ease.
“Neither do I,” Jason says.
We both look to Matthew. It’s obvious that he feels the same way.
“Then that makes three of us,” he replies.
This doesn’t sit right. Not knowing where Cynthia is after dealing with her covert campaigning against us is infinitely worse than when she was around, lurking and scheming and dripping poison into Selina’s ears. Last year, Cynthia’s downfall nearly destroyed us—not just our friendship but us, individually, on an emotional and psychological level. This time, the threat feels larger and darker than ever before because of Selina.
I cannot allow this to continue. I cannot let the past obliterate the future I’ve been building in my head with Selina. She’s the woman of my dreams, of our dreams. She’s the real deal, a wholesome creature whose body and heart is attuned to mine in ways I didn’t think were possible. We’ve done enough damage to this relationship all on our own. We can’t let Cynthia deliver the final blow. I’m done paying for that mistake.
24
Selina
Christmas is tomorrow.
I’m still living at the store, feeling like the ultimate hobo, pregnant with a broken heart and wounded pride. The situation is not sustainable and I can’t live like this much longer, not with a baby on the way. I was exhausted and worn out before, but now I’ve got one hell of a reason to rise up and push through. Granted, the Christmas bonus I received in my bank account this morning along with this month’s salary has certainly managed to shift my outlook a bit.
It's not enough for a downpayment on a new apartment yet—I will need a bigger one now since I’m currently hosting a tiny guest in my womb—but it’s enough to have me staying at a decent motel until next month’s salary, when I will definitely have enough to put down the necessary funds. Almost there, Selina. Almost there. Spending November and most of December in Aspen helped me tremendously, and I will never stop being grateful for that opportunity. It just pains me so much to even think about them. Especially today, Christmas Eve. We were supposed to spend Christmas together.
I wipe my tears for the umpteenth time and get busy dusting the shelves around the store. It’s closed for the holidays, so I’ve got the place to myself until after New Year’s Eve. I figured since I’m squatting here, I might as well make sure it’s nice and clean by the time everybody else gets back from their winter break. We’ve got new designs coming in from the manufacturer in January, and I’m pretty excited about it. I would’ve loved to have authored some of them, but maybe someday Etienne will do more than just thank me for the sketches I give him every other month in the hopes that he’ll pass them on to his team of Sartorialist designers.
Truth be told, I don’t intend on sticking around much longer unless I’m considered for a Junior Designer position next year. It’s what I originally applied for and although I’m thankful for the job, I’m not really a salesgirl. I’m a fashion designer who graduated at the top of her class, and life has hurled enough curveballs my way to make me painfully aware of what damage one’s wasted potential can do.
My phone rings again. It’s Matthew.
“Dang it,” I curse under my breath as I feel another round of tears coming. I miss him so much, I miss the three of them so much, I can barely sleep. My body aches for his touch, my soul cries out for all of them. I felt safe there. I felt safe until I read through Cynthia’s diary, until she showed up and ravaged the precious and fragile balance I’d thought we’d built for ourselves.
I reject the call and put the phone in the front pocket of my jeans before going back to wiping the empty shelves clean and setting the folded sweaters into neat stacks. I’m so deep in my thoughts, memories of my getaway replaying in front of my eyes, my heart skipping beats as I remember Matthew’s hands roaming up and down my body, the strength of his arms as he held me, I don’t even hear the store shutters rolling up until the final clang of the lock mechanism.
The sound has me spinning on my heels to find Etienne Lacroix coming into the store. Panic strikes with lightning speed, and I freeze at the sight of him. He, too, stills when he sees me in my house slacks and old Nirvana tee, fluffy slippers and my messy hair tied up in a loose, scraggly bun on the top of my head.
