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I’m also making plans to seek out a therapist.
There’s an office building in the old mill off Main Street and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen signs for a therapist mixed in with the dentist, pediatrician, and a medium named Madame Chunderworth whose name only stuck with me because I’m pretty sure “chunder” is British slang for barfing.
I have no need for a medium. I didn’t think I needed a therapist, either, but that was before I started feeling so damned emotionally fragile.
There’s something going on with me, something strange, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. I have to nip this shit in the bud before it gets any worse. I don’t have time to succumb to angsty teenage crush feelings. I’m a thirty-four-year-old woman, for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t succumb to that kind of shit back when I actually was a teen.
Teen Blaire was focused on kicking ass and taking names in her apprenticeship program with the local woodworking guild and building her new handy-girl business. And yes, she liked boys, but she liked them in moderation and with an exit strategy. I never brought a boy home and if someone I hooked up with dumped me, half the time I didn’t even notice until weeks later when I had time to start thinking about kissing again.
I had my priorities—and my head on—straight.
Vowing to get back to that place of girl boss equilibrium as soon as possible, I take a bracing breath of cool night air and start across the lawn to join Annie and Colin at an extra-long picnic table where people have gathered to get their craft on. Some of the kids I pass are coloring cat or dog masks, a few of the older women are making dolls out of sticks and yarn, and Colin and Annie are shaping small lumps of clay into…
“Pumpkins?” I ask as I slide onto the bench across from them.
“Mine was supposed to be a ghost,” Annie says, frowning as she lifts it into the air and turns it my way, revealing two holes poked in the top and a crooked little mouth.
“I was aiming for a bat,” Colin says, scowling at his clay. “But sadly, I lack any artistic talent. Perhaps we should try our hand at cornhole, instead?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Darcy’s silky voice rumbles from behind me, making the hairs on my neck stand on end. And then his hands settle on my shoulders, threatening to make me go full kitty cat and start purring all over again. “Blaire and I were hoping to find someone to play against as a team.”
Forcing a smile, I rest one of my hands on his, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “We were,” I agree. “Otherwise, the night was going to end in tears when I beat Darcy, stripped him of his cornhole championship title, and left him a shattered shell of a man.”
“You talk a big game for a little goblin.” He squeezes my shoulders, making me giggle and wince at the same time.
“Ouch.” I swing my legs back over the bench with a laugh and squirm out from under his pinching fingers. “Relax, psycho, I’m on your team. You won’t have to lose tonight.” I wave a hand toward the others. “Come on, you two. Don’t worry, we’ll beat you gently and be excellent winners.”
“Speak for yourself,” Darcy says, swatting my ass.
I feign outrage as I slap his shoulder in return before I loop my arm through his. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Colin and Annie exchange a loaded glance as they stand. But once we reach our empty cornhole station and have divided the dusty sacks full of corn we’ll toss through the holes on the board, they don’t say anything about our newfound coziness or the kiss they witnessed earlier.
But Colin is from another, more reserved time and Annie’s never been one to pry into personal stuff—at least not in front of other people.
I’m sure I’ll get an earful from her later tonight, after we’ve returned to our rooms, but I already know how I’ll handle her curiosity. First, I’ll blow her off and minimize the importance of my getting friendly with Colin’s brother. I have to keep it chill for at least a day or two more. She won’t trust me if I act too smitten too quickly.
She doesn’t know I’m mentally ill for Darcy.
Or emotionally ill.
Or whatever it is that makes me feel like I’m sparkling from the inside out as Darcy and I take turns trouncing Colin and Annie in three consecutive games before Annie and I easily win the three-legged race—displaying our incredible twin powers and winning cheers from the crowd.
Afterwards, we all four join the couples swaying on the dance floor. The temporary wooden platform is set up at the far edge of the lawn with just a few softly glowing lights strung above it, making it easier to see the stars twinkling overhead.
As Darcy draws me closer, settling his hand at the small of my back, in that place that has begun to crave his touch like an addict craves a fix, I tip my head back and send out a silent wish to any stars that might be willing to help a girl out.
Please make this stop. I don’t want to fall in love right now, especially with a man who has no interest in loving me back.
But the stars only wink and glitter in response, seeming to promise that everything will be all right.
For once I almost wish I was a look on the bright side kind of girl. But then I catch a glimpse of Colin and Annie swaying on the other side of the dance floor, looking about as thrilled to be in each other’s arms as two siblings forced to hug it out after a fight, and my natural cynicism returns with a vengeance.
“We have to break them up,” I whisper to Darcy. “They’ll be miserable if they end up together.”
“Agreed,” he murmurs. “They didn’t smile a single time during cornhole. They suck all the joy from each other.”
“And a room,” I agree. “Ugh. I wish we had more time to pull this off.”
“Don’t worry. Colin’s dying to pump me for information. I can see it on his face. As soon as we’re alone, he’ll demand I reveal my intentions toward you. I’ll insist that it’s nothing but sex—incredible, mind-blowing sex, but that’s all, and that there’s no reason for him to worry about our affair affecting his relationship with Annie. Denying any feelings at first will be key to selling our alleged love down the line.”
