The Rom-Com Agenda, page 1
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For Mom. On my way, as always.
Chapter 1
Leah Keegan was positive she was not meant to be a superhero. Or an alien. Or whatever other life-form came in a peculiar shade of near-fluorescent lime green. A disturbingly large amount of her skin was sporting the lurid tint at the moment, proving that this was not her color. Besides, the last time she had seen this particular shade on a humanoid, the poor thing was being pursued by one Captain James T. Kirk, and no thank you to that. The green had to go.
She plopped down on the narrow boards ringing the inside of Ward Peterson’s tiny, rustic bare-bones boathouse, just the right size for a small motorboat and nothing more. The interior was now painted said screaming alien-green, solely so Ward could more easily locate it and navigate his boat back in after a long day of fishing. His eyesight wasn’t so good these days, he had told her, especially at dusk. Leah preferred not to speculate on how much his eyesight was affected by how many beers he had indulged in on any given fishing expedition.
Leah picked at the dried paint that had somehow managed to cover almost as much of her as it had the inside of the boathouse. But doing that tugged on the fine hairs of her forearm, which just plain hurt, so she let it be for now and admired her handiwork instead. Seventy-five dollars and flights of fancy about being a different sort of creature. Not bad for a day’s work.
Now it was time to pack up the paint and brushes and rollers, haul her butt out of the boathouse, and get home to a cool shower. She forced her tired bones to move but paused mid-boost, a wash of melancholy knocking her back down to the boards. Except for the siren song of that shower, there was no need to rush home. She kept forgetting. It was a strange thing to get used to, and she hadn’t succeeded just yet. It would come. In time. She knew that—in her head, at least. Her heart was still catching up.
She sat quietly, leaning back against the coarse boards of the boathouse, watching the gentle flow of the water. From here all she could see were other docks, other modest properties huddled up along the inlet. Follow this stretch of water, however, and it soon opened out onto the vast, powerful St. Lawrence River, moving northeast to the Atlantic Ocean. Beyond the huge vessels in the shipping lanes and the various small bits of land in the river that gave this part of New York State its name, the Thousand Islands, lay Canada. On this side of the river, the lush green flatlands gave no hint that the Adirondack Mountains would poke up, ancient and imposing, less than a hundred miles away.
But here, in this boathouse, on this inlet, a bit of peace—from the tourists, who were starting to wrap up their summer vacations as each day grew progressively cooler and shorter, from the river traffic, from the thoughts that filled her head day and night.
Leah took a breath. This was okay. This was good. By tonight she’d have money in her “gettin’ outta Dodge” jar and food in her stomach. She’d scrub the alien tint off her skin, wash her paint-spattered clothes—er, throw away her paint-spattered clothes—and spend the rest of the night watching trashy TV. But for just one minute she closed her eyes, relaxed her aching muscles, and listened to the soft blipping sound of the tiny waves lapping the wooden posts under the boathouse.
“Aren’t you going to miss this place?”
The voice was so close Leah almost answered the question.
But it was just a trick of acoustics, sound bouncing off the water’s surface and funneled straight into the boathouse. Whoever it was wasn’t talking to her. Nobody could even see her in here unless they were out on the water, pulling into the boathouse or cruising past it, and there wasn’t much more to the inlet past the Petersons’ property. In a few hundred yards it dissolved into a weedy marsh, just past the—oh, the bridge. Someone was on the bridge.
“Come on, admit it. You are.”
The voice was measured, smooth, and deep, almost musical, but with an energy underlying it. The guy was tense, even though he sounded like he was joking, and it made Leah stiffen as well.
Another person responded with a tolerant sigh. “Of course I am.”
A woman this time, also tense. Leah wondered if these two were wound up about the same thing.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” the man said.
“It’s just a sabbatical, Eli.”
Eli. She wondered who he was, whether she’d seen him around. In a small town like Willow Cove, knowing nearly everyone was expected. Unless you were a hermit, and Leah had to admit she had been one for quite a while.
“Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
His tone was playful and sexy and Leah squirmed uncomfortably. This was obviously a private conversation, and she really wished she could teleport out of the boathouse without them seeing instead of hiding in here trying not to listen … and failing. But she was here and they were there and the only way out was past them, so she was going to have to wait until they moved on.
In the same intimate tone, Eli said, “You are going to miss me, right? Call me with all the news, text me at weird hours when I’m sleeping and you’re drinking your morning espresso in some piazza in Rome?”
He was probably bumping his shoulder against hers, Leah thought, his forehead touching her temple, as they leaned on the bridge railing side by side, watching the dimming sunlight on the water.
The woman laughed softly. “Sure. That is, if I ever get to Syracuse to catch my first flight.”
“Okay, okay. Hang on,” Eli said, drawing out the words, and Leah pictured him throwing an arm over the woman’s shoulders and pulling her to him. Obviously she was anxious to get going, and not just because of her flight. Eli, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly ready to let her go. “There’s something I want to say first.”
“Eli.”
“Victoria, just listen, okay?”
“Mm.”
Victoria did not, in fact, want to listen; Leah was sure of it. Leah didn’t either, because she had the feeling Eli was about to say something very private.
“I want you to know I’m going to miss you, and the next ten months are going to be torture—”
“Eli.”
“We’ve been over this already, I know. It’s only … I—I love you. I do. So much. You’re going to say it’s too soon, and I get that,” he rushed to add, probably because Victoria was moving to protest again. “Most people would probably say it’s too soon for a lot of things. I mean, four months, right? But I say when you know, you know. So…” After a moment he added, “It’s not a diamond or anything.”
Silence from the bridge. A long, heavy silence.
Leah dropped her forehead to her bent knees. Oh no, Eli. No, no, no. Don’t do it. She could practically feel the resistance radiating from Victoria right through the boathouse planks at her back.
Despite Leah’s silent pleas, he went and did it anyway. “I hunted down the jewelry maker you liked so much from the arts festival and had him make this. Consider it a, you know … okay, promise sounds a little high school. What’s the equivalent for thirty-year-olds? Commitment? Anyway, I’m ready to commit. With you. I’ll be here when you get back, and then we’ll—”
“I can’t—”
“Victoria,” he protested over her, “take it, okay? I want to marry you. I want to build a life with you.”
“Eli.” Victoria’s voice got stronger. “Come on. Look at what you’re doing.”
“It looks like I’m asking you to marry me because I lo—”
“It looks like you’re angling for a way to ‘lock it down’ before I leave.”
Eli laughed, but it sounded forced. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“It is. It’s like you’re afraid I’m going to go off to Rome, hook up with some random guy, and go riding off into the Italian sunset on his Vespa. It’s, I don’t know, kind of desperate, don’t you think?”
Eli didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry,” Victoria said, “but it is. And, to be honest, putting this on me right before I go is a pretty shitty thing to do.”
“I thought it would be romantic. I thought … I thought we felt the same way about each other.”
“You know I care about you,” Victoria said, her voice soft now. “But four months, Eli? That’s not enough time to be sure of anything.”
Leah could barely hear Eli’s answer as he murmured sadly, “I was sure.”
More silence.
Oh my God, please just go, Leah begged silently. Take this conversation somewhere else. It’s excruciating and embarrassing and I have to pee.
Nobody moved, though. Nobody spoke. Leah pictured Victoria fidgeting, itching to leave, while Eli leaned on the railing and glowered at the water below them. She found herself holding her breath, waiting for
“So now what?” he asked reluctantly.
“Look, Eli, I’m sorry. This summer has been fun, but I think you’re reading too much into … us. I need to go to Rome and focus on my research. Nothing else. You understand, right?” After a pause in which Eli didn’t, in fact, say that he understood, Victoria pressed, “Tell me you’re okay with this.”
Leah thought Eli would renew his protests, but instead he said in a clipped, tight voice, “You bet. Really. So, you know, safe travels.”
Victoria sighed. “I have to go.”
Another pause, and Leah thought she heard a small kiss.
“Take care of yourself, Eli. Be happy, okay?”
“Yeah, you too.”
Leah stayed frozen while the sound of footsteps on the wooden boards faded away. Thank God. Now she really had to pee. She hopped up and lifted the latch on the rickety homemade wooden door. It opened with a creak, the uneven, swollen bottom sticking on the floorboards. Leah stuck her head through the narrow opening only to find Eli was still on the bridge.
Shit.
Even with his elbows on the railing and his shoulders hunched dejectedly, just as she’d imagined, Leah could tell he was tall and broad, with shaggy dark hair that had a wild wave and curl to it. A faded T-shirt, jeans that had seen better days, unlaced work boots. Light eyes, either blue or green. Leah couldn’t tell, and she didn’t take the time to find out, because they were staring into the middle distance, right at her.
Dammit.
Breathless, she forced the door closed again. Had he seen her? Wait—why did it matter? She didn’t know this guy, hadn’t seen him before. She would have remembered. And so what if she had been in the boathouse? It was a free country. He couldn’t prove she was eavesdropping. Which she wasn’t. At least, not intentionally. Hey, if they were going to have a conversation in a public place, they had to accept that somebody was going to hear it.
And yet her face was still flaming from being found out. If she’d been found out. He might not have been looking at her at all.
She could stay hidden and wait for him to leave—and pray that he wouldn’t storm down to the dock and knock on the door, wanting to know what she was up to—or she could hold her head high and march out of there, as she had every right to do.
Leah did neither.
As she dithered, there came the sound of a deep, agonized sigh, punctuated by the distinctive ploop of something small and solid hitting the water.
And that’d be the ring, she guessed.
Eli’s heavy footsteps walking away came soon after.
* * *
Leah had never been so happy to see the inside of the tired little house she called home. She slammed the door and leaned against it as though she had just outrun a pack of zombies.
Well, okay, one particular lovesick zombie.
After Eli had finally, finally walked away, she’d scooted out of the boathouse, not even stopping to find Ward or his wife for her money, and raced home, Eli and Victoria’s excruciating exchange rattling around in her head the entire time. And it was still there. It wouldn’t go away.
“Oh my God, Cathy, you won’t believe what happened to me today,” she called out, dropping her bag and sweatshirt on a chair in the living room. She related the whole painful story as she finally visited the bathroom, shouting over the water as she washed her hands at the sink, then stopped in the kitchen, paused to inspect the contents of the fridge, pulled out a peach, and walked back through the house.
“I swear,” she said with a sigh, leaning in the doorway of the master bedroom and picking at the fuzzy surface of the fruit, “that poor guy is in for a world of hurt. I’d bet anything he actually thinks they can pick up where they left off when she gets back, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have any intention of doing that, right?”
There was no answer. There hadn’t been one for a month now. The hospital bed sat silent and empty, filling the small room so completely that the foot of the bed nearly reached the door. Leah sighed and patted the end of the plastic mattress nearest to her. She really had to call the medical supply place and have them pick it up soon.
“I miss you, Cathy,” Leah whispered to the empty room, the empty house. “Mom.”
Chapter 2
“Life should come with a warning label. But it doesn’t. Doesn’t matter. Even if it did, we wouldn’t pay attention. We never do. Be careful. Look both ways. Wear a helmet. Put your seat belt on. Do we listen? No, we don’t.”
“Dude.”
“And then later, we get other warnings. Get your oil changed. Floss. Check your credit score. Change your passwords. Protect your Social Security number.”
“Eli.”
“Protect your heart.”
“Aw, come on, big guy—”
“We never listen. Not to any of it. We’re like toddlers let loose on a playground while our parents sit on park benches, chugging their Starbucks and checking their phones. And do we do anything differently, even after our seesaw partner gets off their end without any warning at all, and your nuts are crushed when your end slams into the ground? Nah. After we finish crying, we just find someone else for the seesaw and do the same thing all over again.”
Jenna locked eyes with her husband over her brother’s bowed head. “Maybe convincing Eli to come out tonight was a bad idea.”
“Ya think?”
“Plug-stupid optimists, that’s all we are,” Eli declared.
“Oh boy.” Ben shifted in his seat, took another swig of beer. “Let me try.” Nudging away his basket of chicken-wing remnants and clearing his throat, he leaned his elbows on the table. “Okay, look, bro—”
“You were too good for her.”
Ben gave his interrupting wife a look. She ignored it. They had been married for twelve years, after all. Eli didn’t answer, just stared into the depths of his pilsner.
“Honey, you’ve got to snap out of this,” Jenna pleaded, putting a hand on his arm. “So she broke your heart. I’ll break her nose the next time she shows her face in this town.”
“Please check your threats, sister of mine,” came Eli’s monotone, delivered in the direction of the fake woodgrain of the tabletop. “May I remind you that, if not for some unforeseen circumstances, she’d be your sister-in-law come June.”
“Unforeseen? You mean the fact that she turned you down flat? And no surprise there, considering you ambushed the girl after only a few months. So that’s your own fault.” Jenna paused and reconsidered her approach. “You’re a hopeless romantic and an incurable optimist. Uh, usually. And that’s great. It’s what makes you you and what makes everybody love you.”
“Except Victoria,” Ben snickered into his beer.
Jenna cuffed him in the back of the head and then continued, “But it also makes you, well, stupid sometimes.”
That got at least one eyeball trained on her from under the brim of Eli’s weathered baseball cap.
“Look at you. Five months since she dumped you, and you’re still a mess.”
“I’m reflecting and regrouping,” Eli countered evenly.
“You’re turning into a hermit, a wild man of the woods. One of those dudes who knows seven different ways to fricassee squirrel and whose best friend is their chemical toilet.”
“I’ve been among people. I led fall-foliage kayak tours for two of those months, if you recall.”
“And since then?”
No answer.
“Beard growing is not a competitive sport.”
Ben perked up. “You know, actually, I think it is.”
This time it was his wife who gave him the look, which he, in fact, did not ignore. They had been married for twelve years, after all.
“The beard is a bit extreme, dude,” he said.
“Could you at least review your shower schedule, maybe tweak it a little?” Jenna sighed. “Because you’re looking a lot like a wild man of the woods.”
“I embrace my aesthetic,” Eli responded, stubborn to the last. “If you are unable to do the same, I merely ask for your support.”
Even if his magnificent facial growth, of which he’d lost control weeks ago, did itch like a sonofabitch, he wasn’t going to concede the point to his sister and brother-in-law. It wasn’t as if he’d cultivated his new look; it had just sort of happened while he was busy doing other things. Like being in a massive funk after his failed proposal and Victoria’s departure for Italy.
