Bring Down the Stars

I held his gaze hard, searching, thoughts racing through my mind.

It can’t be. That’s a fucked up thing to do to someone. Catfishing? Like that show? Despicable. Weston would never manipulate me like that. And Connor would never do that and then sleep with me. Never toy with my heart. Why would he?

“You wouldn’t… lie to me, would you?” I asked, my voice hardly a whisper. “You wouldn’t tell me things that aren’t true? Not sentiments like those in the letters?”

I slept with you for a poem.

Connor shook his head from side to side, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“They’re all true, Autumn,” he said. “Every word in those letters is true.”

I nodded slowly. Connor’s words were his own. They had to be. Plenty of them came out of his mouth. I’d heard them myself. The phone call in Nebraska was a perfect example.

I sucked in a steadying breath. “I just don’t know what’s happening. Everything feels so tangled up.”

Connor blew out his cheeks. “I know. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

Mrs. Drake walked into the office then. “Oh, I beg your pardon, I hope I’m not interrupting.” Discreetly, she kept her eyes on her son while I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “The guests were starting to ask after you, dear. And Reginald has arrived.”

“Be right there, Mom,” Connor said.

“Need anything?” she asked him, but I could feel it was directed to me.

“We’re good.”

She went out and closed the door quietly.

“The famous Reginald,” I said.

His eyes were still on the door. “These are my last hours with my friends and family. And you.”

“I know. Let’s go party.”

We both got to our feet. He held the envelope out to me and I took it, tucking the check into my purse, which immediately felt a thousand pounds heavier.

“Thank you,” I said, as we walked out. “Even if it stings to accept the money, I’m incredibly grateful.”

He smiled, a strange melancholy behind his eyes. “It’s what I do.”

Out in the backyard, Connor held up his glass. “I’m going to get a refill. Can I bring you something?”

I desperately wanted to get drunk—it wouldn’t take much—and get this horrible tangle and tightness out of my stomach. But the last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself in front of the Drakes. It was going to be hard enough looking them in the eye as it was.

“Just a water.”

He kissed my cheek again. “Be right back.”

But as he approached the bar, a crowd of greetings, hugs, and backslapping surrounded him. He was immediately swallowed up and I knew he wouldn’t reemerge for a while. I plucked a water bottle from the cooler near the grill and took it to a corner of the yard. Leaning against the trunk of a dogwood tree, I surveyed the party, not feeling part of it and not caring much. Ruby was talking to some people near the grill. Weston was still nowhere to be seen.

Missing in action, I couldn’t help thinking. The damn cap on the bottle wouldn’t turn and the plastic was digging into my skin.

“Need some help?”

Weston materialized beside me, looking devastating in jeans and a black dress shirt. He took the bottle and twisted the cap off.

“Aren’t you helpful?” I said, snatching the bottle back and taking a fast drink. “Next, you’ll be asking Connor to buy me a bottling plant.”

Weston smiled at the corner of his mouth. “Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”