“Really?” She looks at him, then at me. “I haven’t had any trouble with it.”
Lance grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. He looks at me. “Trouble seems to creep up in the strangest places.”
My brows pull together, a question on the tip of my tongue, but my mother speaks before I can.
“Did you like what I’ve done with the pantry, Mariah?”
Starting down the hall, Lance right behind me, I call out, “Your pantry is memorable, to say the least.”
Lance laughs, the sound wrapping around my heart. I just hope this isn’t one of those strange places where trouble creeps up.
Nineteen
Mariah
“Thank you for lunch.”
I take a step away from my mother. Physical interactions are something I haven’t mastered with her. They always seem contrived or like they’re only done in a room full of people because that’s what’s expected of her. They’re never warm, never safe like I imagine a mother’s hug should be. This time is no exception.
“I’m so glad you came, Mariah. And I’m even happier to see you with a man.” She turns to Lance, pulling him into the same generic embrace. “I know Mariah is a little difficult to deal with, but I hope you’ll stick around. Maybe encourage her to spend some time with her family, get out and do something besides sit in that library all day. She has so much potential.”
“I can’t even with this,” I mutter. “Are you serious right now, Mother?”
“Mrs. Stevens,” Lance says, pulling away. He casts me a warning glance over his shoulder. “With all due respect, maybe if you were a little nicer to Mariah, she’d come by more often.”
“I see,” she nods. “She’s played the victim card with you just like she does with every man.”
“The victim?” I ask. “Me? That’s a new one.”
“She just means you—”
“You probably should stay out of this,” I say, cutting off my sister. “Nothing good will come from you chiming in at this point.”
She gets a disapproving look, one she’s practiced for years. It used to scare me as a child. I’d immediately back down for fear she’d charge forward and call me names or hurt my feelings. As we stand just a few feet away from each other, she tries it again. Maybe even unknowingly. I can’t find a fuck in me to give.
Lance laughs, reaching for my hand. “Thanks for lunch. You ladies have a wonderful afternoon.”
He guides me out the door. My mom’s sharp goodbye as we leave, Chrissy’s request to call me sometime—none of that matters enough to even turn around and acknowledge it. The only thing I want to do in this moment is suck up every minute with Lance.
Unlike the times before when he’s touched me, this feels different. More intimate. Maybe it’s just because I know what it feels like to have him inside me, I don’t know. But it sends a whirl of emotions through me that I don’t have time to sort.
The late afternoon sun isn’t as warm as it was earlier and I shiver. He pulls me into his side, running his hand up and down my arm as we descend the stairs to the sidewalk.
“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” I note, looking up at him. My hand shakes as I place it on my chest, the excitement from the day starting to wear off.
“You were so tight …”
“Not what I meant,” I laugh. Each echo of my chest feels like I’m sloughing off some of the stress from the day. Like I’m casting all of that off and leaving it here, in Mom’s yard, behind me.
“That’s totally what you meant and, if it’s not, I didn’t do you right.”
“Oh, you did me right,” I say, blushing. “We just had sex in my mom’s house. What is wrong with me?”
“Hopefully just a very sore pus—”
“Stop it,” I giggle as he opens the car door.
He spins me around to face him. “You were brilliant in there today and I’m not just talking about the pantry. Although, your performance in there …”
I smack his chest. He tosses me a wink as I climb in the passenger’s side.
His shoulders seem broader, his chest fuller, as he crosses in front of the car. I can smell him on my clothes, taste his kisses. Feel the remnants of his onslaught between my legs.
Clenching my thighs together as he climbs in, I watch him get settled. Much to my surprise, he doesn’t look at me or say a word. He flips on the engine and pulls around the circular driveway and onto the road.
I wait for him to crack a joke or to reach out and touch my leg. He does neither. When he does move, I hold my breath until I realize he’s switching on the radio and not coming near me.
It’s odd that he’s not brushing my shoulder or touching my leg. I can’t help but notice it. I tell myself it’s just because I want the contact and maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe it’s just everything from the day taking its toll, but there’s still a tangled up ball of nerves that’s starting to fray in the pit of my stomach.
Watching the scenery pass, I want to say something to break the silence. I hate it. It’s not what we do. I hate it more that I don’t know why we’re doing this now.
Summoning all my courage, I twist in my seat to say something when he speaks first.
“In all seriousness, you handled yourself so well today.”
“Thanks.”
“Your sister seemed to put her claws away.”
“Yeah. I haven’t processed that yet.”
“Your mother, on the other hand …” He makes a face.
I settle back in my seat and try to find our normal rhythm. “My mom is a piece of work who will never change.”
“What about Chrissy?” he asks carefully. “Do you think she could’ve changed? Or is this just an ‘I know when to put it on’ kind of thing?”
My shoulders rise and fall. That’s been in the back of my mind too all day, but I haven’t sorted it. “She’s always been able to turn it on and off, but today she was almost … nice.”
“I agree. Definitely worth a thought,” he notes. “And can we discuss Eric?” He presses his lips together. “He has the personality of a sloth. But sloths are kinda cute in their own way, so I feel bad even equating them to him.”
“Hey,” I giggle. “I saw you two chatting it up. I thought you were besties now. Which, by the way, was a super strange feeling.”
Lance gapes at me, stopping at a red light. “Am I that good at acting? They pay them a hell of a lot more than teachers.”
“But you didn’t hate going today, right?”
“Nope. Didn’t hate it.” He looks me up and down for a moment too long. The car behind us blares their horn. “Might’ve liked it too much.”
We speed forward, quiet again, as we mull over his words. There was a sincerity to them, a lack of playfulness I’ve come to expect from him, that has me a little worried. That too much might be a bad thing.
Closing my eyes, I remember the look on his face as I had him follow me from the table. The look in his eye as the pantry door snapped shut. The glimmer in those jade orbs as I asked him why he was still dressed.
That was me. How, I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that and to think I just did it, to Lance, no less, has me not wanting to ever look him in the eye again.
But I process the afternoon as we make it back onto the highway on the other side of town and hit the exit towards Linton, and I can’t find an ounce of regret.
Today I was powerful. I made choices and decided what I let impact me. I was in control. I was a version of myself I really like.
“Thanks for coming with me today,” I say quietly. “I appreciate it but, um, don’t want what happened between us to make things weird.”
I think he’s going to ignore me or at least come back with something I don’t want to hear. When his palm rests on my thigh, I instantly melt into the seat.
“I think I could’ve fucked you in the middle of the table and things might’ve been weird for your mom, or Eric, but not for me,” he grins. “Come to think of it, I wish I could’ve shown that bastard what he was missing.”
“Trust me, that’s not what he was missing,” I scoff.
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” he chides, bumping my arm with his. “Spill it.”
“Let’s just say there was no pantry sex with Eric.”
“So, you didn’t bite his shoulder?” he teases. “Or coat his balls with your come?”
“Oh my God,” I say, burying my face in my hands.
“That was hot as hell.”
“I can’t talk about this.”
“Why? You should own that, Mariah. You’re sexy as fuck.”
I start to respond but give up and just look out the window instead. Without the hormones flooding me, it feels a lot different to say these things.
“You’re back to the librarian, huh?” he chuckles. “Imagine if I could get you that worked up in the library.”
“Will you stop?” I laugh.
He squeezes my thigh before removing his hand. “I loved seeing you like that back there.”
“Oh, I bet you did.”
“Not just naked, but let’s just put it out there right now that I’ll never, ever forget that sight.”
I look at the floorboard, concentrating on a stray piece of napkin.
“But more than that,” he continues. “You were confident. Classy. In control.”
“I don’t know what happened to me,” I say. “I usually let my annoyance at my mom win and kind of blow up or don’t show up to start with. Today felt … good.”
He’s grinning when I look at him.
We ride along in silence until we hit the exit for Bluebird. I can’t help but think of how different things are as we pass Goodman’s than they were when we passed it a few hours ago.