Take the pass, James, I thought. Until you can get your head on straight.
Expert actress that she was, Audrey turned the conversation around fast. “What on Earth did my mother make of you?”
“She thought I was… pleasant,” I lied. She asked me if I was paying you enough, and why I couldn’t find a ‘real’ woman. “I told her that she can’t ever take money from your brother’s facility again.”
“I told her that last night. She doesn’t care about anything other than what she can get away with.”
“That was the impression I got, unfortunately,” I said.
Audrey grimaced. “I can’t believe you went and saw where she lives. And talked to her. I’m so embarrassed.”
I reached out and grabbed her hand. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. She’s not you. You’re nothing like her—and by that I mean you’re honest, caring, and kind-hearted.”
“I can’t believe that she’d do that to my brother. I mean, I can—’cause she’s done it. But still.” Her tears had dried up and she had a resigned look on her face. “I should probably do that paperwork.” She grabbed it, and I went and got her a pen.
She started signing the documents that would remove her mother as a signatory on her brother’s account. “How much did you pay New Horizons?” she asked without looking up at me.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. You’re paying me a ridiculous amount for these two weeks. We’ll just deduct it from that.”
“No, Audrey. We won’t.”
Now she looked up at me, her jaw clenching. “How much money did you give my mother?”
“I’m not telling you that, either.”
“You have to,” she said. “I’m paying you back, James. I don’t want this on my conscience for the rest of my life. My mother’s my cross to bear—not yours. I don’t want her having anything to do with you.”
“We don’t have to argue about it right now. Okay?” I asked. She finished signing the papers, and I pulled her back to me, placing her head against my chest. “Just let it go,” I said.
“You have to promise that I can pay you back. It has to be even between us,” she said. “Otherwise, I’ll feel like a user. Not just a whore.”
“Stop it,” I said, anger flashing through me—not at her, but at her circumstances. “You’re doing what you’re doing for the right reasons. You don’t have to be ashamed of the choices you’ve made. Protecting someone you love is the most important thing you can do.”
She looked at me stubbornly. “I’m not ashamed. I just want you to promise me.”
“I’ll promise you anything, Audrey.”
“Good. I feel better already,” she said, finally relaxing and nestling against me. “Promise me I’m the cowboy.”
“You’re the cowboy, baby,” I said. “I’m the bed.”
Taking me by surprise, she hugged me. “Thank you, James. Thank you for helping my brother. You’re a good person.”
I lifted her chin in my hands, and I kissed her softly on the lips. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “I’m the cowboy, and I say you’re wrong.” She ran her hands through my hair again. “So… you’ve seen some of my really ugly skeletons now. I seem to remember last night you said you had some in your closet, too. Wanna share? So we can balance the ugliness between us?”
I looked out the window. It was a beautiful, sunny June day. “Do you remember what I said? About the fact that you don’t want to know?”
“I think that was my line, James.” She traced my jaw with her finger. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand.”
I looked over at her then. The thing was, she did understand. She was the one woman I’d met in decades with whom it was easy. Even though it wasn’t easy. Audrey was the only woman I’d met in forever that I felt connected to.
* * *
“I lost someone close to me. A girlfriend.”
“I’m so sorry. When was this?”
“A long time ago. The summer after high school.” I rubbed my face. I hadn’t talked about this ever, really. Maybe a few words to Todd when he asked me if I was okay. He’d been so young when it happened. I don’t think he understood how it wrecked me.
“Her name was Danielle. We’d dated our senior year at Philips Andover. I’d never met anyone like her before—she was a scholarship student, from a very different background than me. She was brilliant. And open. And kind.” I smiled at the memory of her.