Page 42 of Fake Dark Vows

“Don’t forget to come back in and take your selfie when you’ve eaten, folks,” Steve says. Looking directly at Rose, he adds, “My advice, for what it’s worth: set the terms of your bet before he can backtrack on his guess.”

CHAPTER 14

Rose

“I’ve never tried key lime pie.”

Brandon wanted to know why Kelly and I set this as a challenge for the treasure hunt. In hindsight, why not? might’ve been a better answer.

“Does that mean that you want to test the product before we buy?” he asks.

“Is there any other way?”

The air seems to have cleared between us since Sombrero Beach. I’m convinced that we’ll both ruminate over the ‘coward’ conversation later, in privacy, and I’ll wish I could find a way to time travel and keep my opinions to myself, while Brandon will instruct his mom to fire me on the spot.

Seriously though, what was I thinking?

Jess will say that I did the right thing—I remained true to myself, and I didn’t lie to his face to perpetuate the businessman-demigod attitude that he thinks is his God-given right. My dad—I pray he never finds out—would quietly contemplate his next job application while giving me the kind of smile usually reserved for whenever I mention visiting Mom’s grave.

Me? I only hope Ruby Weiss will let me go with no fanfare and Graham the buggy driver will be waving goodbye at the jetty.

Brandon doesn’t even question ordering coffee and pie to sit outside the factory. We haven’t crossed paths with Damon since Islamorada, and the saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’ has come into play. I can’t even begin to imagine the holidays in the Weiss family home.

I choose the meringue-topped pie to share with Georgie, while Brandon opts for the naked pie. “What’s wrong with meringue?” I ask him.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

I get the impression that he’s about to say more, but has talked himself out of it, and I wonder if he ever blurts anything out on impulse.

“But…?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve never had a sweet tooth.”

The toothpaste advertisement smile is testimony to that! Another thing that Brandon Weiss never does for the sheer hell of it: buy a slice of pie and eat it with his fingers because, hello, the guy probably has a repeat order of antibacterial handwash with his local high-class grocery store.

I stare out of the window at the garden filled with vibrant bellflowers and try to rein my thoughts in. I haven’t reacted to someone this way since my first year in high school when a boy from my homeroom stuck gum on my seat and I had to wear my PhyEd shorts for the rest of the day. That kid was a loser who got his kicks from making other kids feel stupid.

Brandon Weiss is about as far removed from a loser as anyone can possibly be, and he’s trying—the least I can do is give him the benefit of the doubt, finish the last challenge, and try to erase the entire experience from my mind once I get back home.

Signs dotted around the serenity garden specify that children are not to treat it like a playground, and I’m about to suggest that we turn around, collect our pie for the challenge, and eat on the boat when familiar voices drift towards us.

Not Damon this time.

The voices belong to Harry Weiss and his partner-in-crime Ron.

“What took you so long?” Harry stands and scoops Georgie into his arms when we approach their table. “Come and tell Grandpa all about your adventures.”

“Grandpa.” Georgie cups Harry’s face in both hands and rubs noses with him, and it’s the kind of gesture I could imagine my dad performing with his future grandkids. “I’ve been on a boat.”

“Ron.” Brandon greets the other man with a brief nod and a perfunctory smile as he pulls out a seat.

“Here, honey,” Harry says to me, “you can have my seat while I take my favorite granddaughter inside and spoil her rotten.”

“This seat was for Rose,” Brandon says. But his dad merely salutes him from behind as he walks back towards the pie factory, Georgie chattering away in his arms about the sandcastle we built.

Ron winks at me. “Don’t question it, Rose. Not many women can say they had two Weiss men fighting over them.” His eyes flash toward Brandon, and he raises his coffee cup to his lips like he needs somewhere to hide.

I sit down in the seat Brandon pulled out, and he takes the seat next to me in the shade of the bright pink umbrella. Butterflies dance around in my stomach. It’s the first time that Brandon has treated me like a peer, but I can’t even bask in that small victory because of Ron’s reaction to his offhand comment.