Of Spice and Men Read online

  Ray approached them with unhurried steps. He drew to a stop before them and said something I couldn’t hear.

  Alyssa shook her head and melted in closer to Brett. He enveloped her in a hug and said something to Ray over her head. His uncle replied, and Alyssa shook as if she were sobbing in Brett’s arms.

  “You can’t arrest me!” Her shrill, panicked voice was loud enough to reach my ears. “I didn’t kill her!”

  Ray continued speaking in a low voice as he removed a set of handcuffs from his belt.

  I remained rooted to the spot, staring at the scene unfolding before me.

  Brett eased away from Alyssa, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go. She didn’t resist when Ray secured her hands behind her back. He took her arm and led her toward his cruiser as he informed her of her rights, only snippets of his words floating toward me on the wind.

  When he opened the back door of the cruiser, Alyssa turned to Brett, frantic. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Brett glanced at his uncle before saying, “I’ll meet you there.”

  He stayed there on the grass, watching as Ray drove away with Alyssa as his prisoner, and I continued watching him, feeling as though an ocean of great depth and width stretched between us.

  The cruiser passed by on its way along Wildwood Road and Brett’s gaze finally fell upon me. I turned away, the tightness of my chest making it difficult to breathe. All I wanted was to flee, to run away from the overwhelming weight of all the emotions pressing down on me. I walked quickly, leaving Wildwood Road and following a gravel path that would take me between a building and a grove of trees before leading me to the beach.

  Running footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me.

  “Marley!” Brett called, the footsteps growing closer.

  I stopped and closed my eyes, not turning around, trying to compose myself.

  When I heard Brett reach my side, I opened my eyes, but I was no calmer than I’d been seconds before.

  “Marley, I texted you three times today and never heard back.”

  I gripped my shopping bag so tightly it almost hurt. “I haven’t checked my phone in a few hours.” That was true, although I’d seen his first text in the morning.

  “Would you have replied even if you had?”

  I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t meet them. “Probably not,” I admitted.

  Brett let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset with me, but I’m not sure why.”

  That statement added aggravation to my already jumbled emotions. “Her name is Alyssa.”

  “Alyssa?” He sounded baffled. “Marley, I already told you that nothing has happened. I’d never betray you.”

  “But you’re defending her.”

  “Of course I am. She’s not a killer.”

  “Ray clearly has a different opinion,” I pointed out.

  “He had no choice but to arrest her. Her scarf was used to strangle Christine.”

  I took no more than a second to absorb that new information. “And you’re just ignoring that evidence. All of the evidence.”

  “I’m not ignoring anything.” His rising exasperation came out in his voice. “I know things don’t look good for her. That’s why I’m trying to help her.”

  I turned away. “Fine. Then help her.”

  I strode away from him, heading for the beach, my temper beyond its boiling point. When Brett followed me, I had to force my jaw to stop clenching to the point of pain.

  “Why is this a problem?” he asked, easily keeping pace with me.

  I didn’t respond.

  “Marley?”

  My steps never slowing, I left the gravel path for the sand of the beach. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

  “We can’t fix this if we don’t talk about it.”

  “We’ll talk later.” I barely managed to choke the words out.

  I was desperate to get away from him, to get some space so I could breathe again. My throat was tight, my eyes damp with unshed tears, and I felt completely out of control, like I was on a wild roller coaster I couldn’t stop.

  “I hope you mean that.” He’d stopped following me and his words were almost lost to the wind, but they still managed to reach me.

  I didn’t miss the disappointment in his voice. Hearing it sent tears from my eyes onto my cheeks. I wiped them away with a rough swipe of my hand, charging along the beach as quickly as I could without breaking into a run. My sneakers sank into the sand, making progress more difficult, but I never slowed my pace.

  Eventually I chanced a quick look over my shoulder. Brett was no longer in sight. That brought me a sense of relief at the same time as it increased the ache in my chest. I kept walking, wishing I could outpace my emotions and leave them behind. I was already kicking myself for my reaction, wishing I could have handled the situation differently, but I didn’t turn back to go after Brett, instead continuing on along the beach.

  Thankfully, I didn’t encounter anyone during the rest of my journey home. If I’d met someone I knew, I wouldn’t have been able to hide my current state, and I didn’t want anyone to know what a mess I was at the moment. I was still fuming, but less so with every passing minute, and my dissipating anger exposed the raw hurt and regret beneath it.

  When I reached my blue-and-white Victorian, I jogged up the porch steps and let myself in through the back door. I kicked off my sneakers and dropped my bag and jacket on a kitchen chair before sprawling out on the couch. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus on nothing other than my breathing until the constriction of my throat and chest eased.

  Flapjack appeared, standing up on his hind legs and placing his front paws on the edge of the couch cushion so he could peer at my face. I rolled onto my side and gave him a scratch on the head.

  “Hey, buddy.”

  Flapjack dropped down to all fours and then hopped up onto the couch.

  I flopped onto my back again, and he curled up on my stomach. I ran my hand over his sleek head and his purr rumbled against my stomach, chasing away what remained of my waning anger.

  “Everything’s a mess, Jack,” I said to the tabby.

  He regarded me with his amber eyes before letting out a quiet meow.

  “It’s Brett,” I told him. “Or maybe it’s all me. I don’t know.”

  I really didn’t, and I didn’t have the strength to figure it out just then. I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

  Flapjack closed his eyes and settled in for a nap. I tried to do the same, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that sleep wouldn’t provide me with an escape from my problems anytime soon. Giving up on that hope, I shifted Flapjack from my stomach to the couch and wandered into the kitchen. I made myself a cup of tea, but after two sips I lost interest in the drink and left it cooling on the counter.

  Something gnawed at my insides. I tried to ignore it, but the nagging sensation only grew more insistent. As I wandered to the window to look out at the ocean, I realized that it was regret haunting me.

  Resting my forehead against the windowpane, I watched my breath fog up the glass with every exhale. I didn’t like how I’d reacted, how I’d walked away from Brett for the second time in two days, but I also couldn’t bear the thought of facing him, of talking things over.

  Why did he have to be so determined to help Alyssa?

  Thinking about the actress sent a fresh wave of frustration and hurt crashing over me. I turned my back on the window and grabbed my tote from the kitchen chair where I’d left it. Pulling out my phone, I woke up the device. Sure enough, I’d received new text messages from Brett since I’d last checked. He hadn’t sent any further ones since we’d last parted, though.

  Not bothering to read the texts, I composed one to send to Lisa.

  Things with Brett are even worse now.

  When I sent the message I had to blink back a fresh set of tears. Seeing those words written made me realize how much I had to lose and how terrified I was of the
path ahead of me. My anger had deserted me now, leaving me with a mess of regret and disappointment.

  My phone buzzed in my hand and I read Lisa’s response.

  I’m coming over after work.

  I checked the time. I had a couple of hours to kill before Lisa would arrive. Wanting to keep myself occupied, I trudged upstairs to the front guest bedroom and worked away at peeling the faded wallpaper from the walls. I’d started the job a couple of weeks earlier but had only managed to complete one wall before getting sidetracked by other things. Eventually I wanted to paint the room a calming shade of blue, but I still had plenty to do before I could get to that point.

  I wet the paper down with a sponge and peeled and scraped until I grew bored with the job. I’d almost finished a second wall, but the rest would have to wait for another day. After stretching my arms over my head, I wiped my hands on my jeans and headed downstairs. In the family room, I cast a sidelong glance at my laptop where it sat on the coffee table. I knew it would be best not to do what I was thinking of doing, but I also knew I’d do it anyway.

  After booting up my laptop, I sat on the couch and opened the web browser, going straight to IMDb, where I typed the name Alyssa Jayde into the search bar. When I arrived at the actress’s page, I was immediately greeted by a smiling photo of Alyssa looking as beautiful as ever, her green eyes striking and her smile perfect. Doing my best to ignore the picture, I zeroed in on her biography. She was born in the same year as me and had grown up in Walla Walla, Washington. She was of Native American and Portuguese descent on her mother’s side and Colombian and Scottish descent on her father’s side. After attending a graphic design college in Seattle, she’d gone on to work at an advertising agency while pursuing her passion for acting on the side. At age twenty-six, she’d decided to follow her dream and moved to Hollywood, where she quickly added to her acting résumé with numerous small roles on soap operas, TV dramas, and feature films.

  I stopped reading there, wondering how her relationship with Brett fit into that scenario. Had it ended before Alyssa’s move to Hollywood, or maybe because of it? Brett had wanted to marry her. Did that mean she’d turned down his proposal?

  I rubbed my forehead and tried to refocus on the computer screen, but with relief I heard the sound of an approaching car. Jumping up from the couch, I hurried to the front door, opening it as Lisa climbed the steps to the porch.

  “How bad is it?” Lisa asked, giving me a sympathetic look as I stepped back to let her into the house.

  “Definitely not good,” I replied.

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I brought these.” She held up a bottle of white wine in one hand and a bakery box in the other.

  “What’s in the box?” I asked, knowing it must be something delicious.

  “Cupcakes. With lots of icing.”

  I smiled for the first time in hours. “Perfect.”

  When we reached the back of the house, I took the bottle and box from Lisa. I searched through a drawer for a corkscrew while Lisa settled on the couch. She took one look at my laptop before narrowing her eyes in my direction.

  “What have you been doing?”

  I uncorked the wine bottle. “Torturing myself.”

  “That’s what it looks like.” She exited the web browser and shut my laptop. “No more of that. You’ll only end up driving yourself crazy.”

  “Maybe I already have.” I poured two glasses of wine and carried them over to the couch. “I stormed off on Brett for the second time in two days.” I handed one of the glasses to Lisa and joined her on the couch, tucking one leg beneath me. “I wish I hadn’t done that, but I get so…” I sighed heavily, not sure how to finish the sentence. “He always wants to talk things through, but how can I talk to him when I feel this way?”

  “Do you still feel like he’s putting Alyssa ahead of you? Or is there something else going on now?”

  I stared into my wine. “Both?” I sighed again. “I don’t know.” I set my wineglass on the coffee table, the alcohol untouched. “I’m terrified.”

  “That he still has feelings for Alyssa?” Lisa guessed.

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Have you told him that?”

  “No. I don’t think he understands why I’m upset. He told me I have nothing to worry about, and I know he’d never cheat on me, but…”

  “You’re more worried about his feelings than his actions?”

  “Yes.”

  Lisa took a sip of her wine. “That’s what you need to tell him.”

  “But what if…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question.

  “What if you don’t like what he has to say in response?”

  I nodded, once again unable to use my voice.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to know where you stand than to keep worrying and tearing yourself apart?”

  “I guess so?”

  Lisa nudged me with her elbow. “The answer is yes.”

  I picked up my glass and took a long sip. “You’re right.”

  Lisa grinned. “Of course I am.” Her face became more serious. “Trust me, Marley. You need to talk to him.”

  “All right,” I said, though the prospect scared me. “Tomorrow.”

  Lisa accepted that, and we decided to focus only on positive things for the rest of the evening. We made nachos for dinner—with plenty of cheese, black olives, and bell peppers—eating them while watching the Stargate feature film on television. By the time Lisa left my place later that night, we’d polished off the nachos, the cupcakes, and the bottle of wine. My stomach full and with Flapjack at my heels, I headed upstairs to bed, impatient for the next day while simultaneously dreading its arrival.

  Chapter 15

  The following morning I gladly threw myself into my routine at The Flip Side, needing both the comfort and the distraction it provided. I’d woken up with a dull headache—likely thanks to the previous night’s wine—but a strong cup of tea helped to banish it and I was soon feeling as good as I could hope to feel considering the state of my personal life.

  Shortly after I opened the pancake house, Del Harris appeared with his son Jamal, claiming a table for two by one of the large front windows. Leigh greeted them cheerily and took down their orders while I watched from near the kitchen. Although Del chatted easily with Leigh, Jamal sat slumped in his chair, his face glum. He gave Leigh his order, but then he turned his attention to his phone and kept it there.

  As Leigh took the order slip to the kitchen’s pass-through window, two more groups of customers arrived, and I spent the next several minutes talking to some regulars and catching up on their lives. On my way toward the office a short while later, I passed by Del and Jamal’s table, where they were both digging into their meals—a stack of blueberry crumble pancakes for Del and churro waffles for Jamal.

  “What’s bothering you?” Del asked his son as I came within earshot. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No,” Jamal replied before chomping down on a forkful of waffle.

  “Is this about Christine?”

  I glanced their way when I didn’t hear a response from Jamal, and I caught the end of the younger man’s head shake as he took another large bite of his breakfast. I saw rather than heard Del sigh, but then he returned his attention to his own meal.

  The front door opened, letting in a blast of damp air and diverting my attention. I stopped my progress toward the office, recognizing the latest arrival.

  “Morning, Chloe,” I said with a smile.

  She surprised me by looking anxious. “Hi, Marley. Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course.” I quickly surveyed the restaurant. Customers were now scattered about at a few of the tables. “Do you want to sit out here or would you rather talk in the office?”

  “Maybe the office?”

  “Sure. You go on ahead. I’ll grab you a cup of coffee.”

  As I poured coffee into a clean mug, I wondered what could have Chloe looking so uncharacteristi
cally worried, though I suspected that it might be connected to my relationship with Brett.

  “Here you go,” I said as I entered the office and handed the mug to Chloe. “It’s got cream and sugar in it.”

  “Thank you.” She stared into the coffee as I perched on the edge of my desk.

  “What’s up?”

  She raised her eyes from the mug, her expression still as anxious as ever. “I’m so sorry, Marley.”

  The apology took me by surprise. “For what?”

  “I lied to you on Sunday morning. I didn’t have a migraine. I’d just found out that Alyssa would be in town for the movie and I didn’t want to be the one to tell you about her.”

  “I can understand that,” I said.

  “Really? You’re not mad?”

  “Of course not,” I assured her. “I would have done the same if I’d been in your shoes.”

  She visibly relaxed, resting her mug on her knee. “I’m so relieved.” But she tensed up again a second later. “Brett told me how you found out about Alyssa. That couldn’t have been nice.”

  “It wasn’t,” I said, trying not to remember how it had felt to see the actress in Brett’s arms.

  “I know things aren’t great between the two of you right now, and I don’t want to interfere, but…I really hope you guys can work things out. Brett hasn’t said a lot about how he’s feeling, but I can tell he’s really upset. You mean the world to him.”

  I swallowed and willed my eyes not to fill with tears as Chloe’s words stirred up all my emotions.

  “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” she went on in a rush. “I just wanted you to know that your relationship is a big deal to him.”

  “It is to me, too.” Somehow I managed to say the words without my voice wavering.

  Chloe looked down at her untouched coffee again and shook her head. “I knew nothing good could come out of Alyssa reappearing in Brett’s life.”