Page 118 of The Treasure House

“I think you just made it my business.”

“No, I think I just made it not your business when I told you that you don’t have to marry me out of some misguided sense of honor.” She headed downstairs.

He followed, dragging his sheet with him. “You seduced me,” he accused.

“Yes,” she agreed.

He didn’t know what to say to that. He sputtered a bit.

She reached the kitchen and put the coffee on, giving him time to have his sputter.

“Well,” he finally demanded, when he was articulate again, “why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why? If you don’t want to get married.”

She turned and considered him. He really was gorgeous there, with her sheet wrapped around his waist. “Why, Freddie?” She approached him and put her hands against his chest. She could feel his heart cannonballing against his ribs. “Because I wanted to. Because when I look at you, I get hot.”

His gaze grew hazy, but Marly wasn’t done yet.

“Because I like the way you look,” she said, running her hands down him. “And I like the way you taste.” She inched closer until her lips were a hair’s breadth from his. “And I think, if you can just get over thinking of me as a little kid, you’ll realize how ridiculous you’re being.” She could hear his breath hitching. “Freddie, I don’t want anything from you. No marriage proposals. No declarations of love. The kid I was at seventeen thought she wanted all that and you told her she’d grow out of it. Well, she did. I did. Now all I want is to enjoy the next few days.” She hadn’t buttoned her pajama top, and she let it slide open as she stepped back. He made a soft, uncontrolled noise. “What do you say, Freddie? Shall we enjoy the next few days?”

He didn’t say anything. He was too busy kissing her.

Twenty-Seven

I was at a loss, reeling from the chaos Tina brought. She and Tate settled into the motel just outside Rockport and didn’t look ready to leave any time soon. I’d met Tina for lunch at Jake’s cousin’s bar the day after Christmas. I hadn’t taken Flo. I wasn’t letting Tina see my daughter unless she was clean.

The lunch was difficult to get through. I hadn’t been around Tina in a long time, and I’d forgotten how it felt. Tina sucked up all the oxygen in the room—it was hard to get a word in edgewise. She rattled off disjointed stories about the drive to Maine in the snow (they could have been killed, the roads were so bad), about some friend of her cellmate’s who was going to fix her up with a job (what kind of job, she didn’t seem to know), and she talked endlessly about meeting Tate (who was some kind of knight in shining armor, according to Tina). The only question she asked me was why the hell I’d kept her baby angel granddaughter secret from her. She wasn’t curious about why I was living in Maine, or what I did for a job, or who Jake was to me. She didn’t tell me she missed me and she didn’t offer me a single apology. The more she talked, the more I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

By the time I left, I was wrecked. Tina, meanwhile, was energized and ordering a tequila sunrise from the bartender.

As I drove away, I knew that Tina didn’t belong in my life anymore. And I most certainly did not belong in hers.

And I didn’t like Tate. He was cold and weird, and I was more than a little scared of him. He had a way of looking at me, flat-eyed and without a hint of kindness, that unsettled me. There was also the fact that he’d stolen my address and aided and abetted my mother in violating her parole.

I barely slept for the next couple of days, my stomach hurt, and I was constantly falling down holes into my past, lurching back in time and reliving Tina’s overdoses and the times guys hit her or followed her home, banging at the door and scaring the wits out of both of us.

“Mom?” Flo approached me one afternoon as I hid in the garden. I’d told everyone I’d gone to gather wood for the fire, but actually I just wanted to be alone. My house was very full, and so was my head. I was sitting on the chopping block behind the outbuilding, watching a light dusting of snow settle on the bare crabapples.

“There you are!” Flo said, exasperated, when she spied me.

“Hey, watch out, it’s slippery,” I warned her, as she navigated the icy path.

“What are you doing?” Flo asked. Her cheeks were blazing red in the cold air.

“Just watching the snow.” I forced a smile.

She reached me and put a heavy hand on my shoulder. She adopted a very adult, knowing expression. “Mom. Do you think you might be depressed?”

I gave her a shocked look.

“I read about it online,” she told me. She cocked her head. “Have you got trouble sleeping? Can’t stop thinking about your problems? Lost your appetite?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her gravity. And the fact that she sounded like an infomercial. “That’s not depression, bug. That’s having Tina in my life.” I grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks for worrying about me, but you don’t need to. I’m okay.”

Flo pulled away and put her mittened hand over my mouth to stop me from talking. “No, you’re not. Mom. It’s okay. The world won’t fall apart if you have feelings.”