AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter ends in a flashback, and, more importantly, Jane Austen provides absolutely zero segues in this book, so if you are confused about anything, send a review, and I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability.
Unbeknownst to Aria, Kip Winters didn't need her flattery to convince him to come to Boston. General Creed had already worked his Brother-in-Law Voodoo. During the final hour of Aria's Tuesday afternoon shift at the Claremont University Campus Starbucks, Kip Winters was exiting the Evington Express Train, virtually buried under a tower of luggage. Kip Winters derisively snorted to no one in particular, "Express train my ass."
Aria splayed herself leisurely amongst the uppermost branches of the Redbud Tree in the center of the Westhaven Circle Garden. Dusk had fallen hours before, but Feminine Intuition had convinced her to remain right where she was. Even the raindrops, pelting her like missiles, failed to inspire her to return to the bitching of her sister and the disappointment of her father and the none-too-subtle hints of Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, directed at Rex Evans, that Aria was looking especially lovely at the moment, and wouldn't any man be truly blessed to have her.
Rex Evans always agreed with Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, particularly about Aria's beauty, and Aria was constantly tempted to shriek at Mrs. Ester Rosenburg that her flesh wasn't for sale, so there was no need for all the tactless advertisements about Aria's hair and her skin and her gentle way of interacting with others. Rex Evans had been irritatingly eager lately to lend Aria a hand whenever possible. He held doors open for her; he waited for her to finish her shift at the table in the corner (sometimes for hours); he pulled her chair out from under the table at every meal; he always found creative ways to be near her; he had gotten into the habit of following her around like a lost puppy. Instinctively, she knew she could trust him; he made her skin crawl, and she absolutely hated him for it.
A jaunty whistling snapped her from her reverie; her tranquility evaporated as the whistler drew nearer; a whistler with smoldering ocean-blue eyes and tendrils of ebony plastered to his forehead by what was rapidly becoming a torrential downpour; a whistler who had tugged at her heartstrings since they first met.
With a dumbstruck yelp, Aria tumbled from her branch of choice, collapsing with a piercing shriek on top of none other than Kip Winters. Crimson blotches blanketed every exposed patch of Kip's skin, as Aria, consumed by unbridled shame and horror, found herself rendered immobile. This was not the ideal moment for paralysis, especially since Kip seemed quite as incapacitated in the Forcing Her to Get Off of Him Department as she was in the Forcing Herself to Get Off of Him Department.
On metaphorical pins and needles, they stared each other down, until Aria managed to muster enough saliva to grit that he was looking well. Kip gaped like a fish, stuttering meekly that she was more than welcome to use his umbrella, which seemed to be trapped beneath them at the moment. With what little dignity she had left, Aria rolled off of Kip, mutely offering him the severely mangled remnants of his umbrella.
She had stumbled a few steps in the opposite direction, when Kip tugged tremulously on her sleeve. Aria surveyed him with a haunted expression that nearly stunned him into silence, but he finally found the courage to ask what the hell she was doing in a tree during a storm that had the potential to become a flood. A whimsical smile flitted across Aria's face, before Kip could even be certain that such a smile had occurred, as she admitted that she had been in the tree for Marcus.
"Marcus," he thundered.
Aria, completely unaware of his outburst, dreamily explained, "Marcus and I, we... there was a Redbud Tree on the Kelly Lynch Campus where Marcus and I went whenever we were worried or scared or frustrated or depressed or overwhelmed. I needed to find a place where I could feel close to the people Marcus and I used to be, so I climbed this tree, and I forgot about everything and everyone else. Things have just changed so much between us since we came to Boston. Marcus has Sophia, and I'm alone again."
Kip was on the verge of uttering the life-altering assurance that she wasn't alone, not if she was willing to open her heart to him again, but he settled for the heartbreaking question of, "Marcus…you…you…you love him, don't you?"
Aria's immediate response? "More than anyone."
His resulting stricken expression went unnoticed by his dazed companion. Shoulders sagging in defeat, Kip dejectedly snapped, "Well, I suppose that's all there is to say," and nimbly leapt to the ground, overpriced shoes SQUELCHING deafeningly. Hauling ass (as properly as possible) from the trunk of the Redbud, the morose whimpering of, "more than anyone but you," uttered by the stringy-haired, mud-splattered Aria, was obviously inaudible.
"Marcus, Sweetheart, as much as I appreciate all the time you've taken out of your schedule of contributing absolutely nothing to the greater good of society, in order to ahem… "fix…" the garbage disposal. However, waking up to gunk-splattered walls is not the way I wanted to start a Monday. Couldn't you have just made coffee…"
A tense silence instantly blanketed 7G when Sophia noticed Rex Edwards lounging against the door frame, trademark sneer plastered across his chiseled face.
"Sophia, Sophia, Sophia," he tsked mockingly, "You have certainly lowered your standards for who you sleep with. Letting a man who can't even fix a garbage disposal into your pants is simply revolting, even for you! Not that you can exactly run away from any unworthy guys right now." He menacingly advanced upon her, lowering himself to her eyelevel. "What would Christopher say about how much you've degraded yourself?"
Sophia could only gape at the sadistic pleasure he found in her misery, gape and clench her fists, until her stubby fingernails drew blood from her palms. Inraged, she inched toward him, flailing her fists wildly against his knees. He condescendingly patted her head, as she gritted, "Don't you dare mention Christopher's name, you… you… BACSTABBING ASSHOLE! You didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him. You should be rotting underground instead of my Christopher. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE OR I'LL SLAP A RESTRAINING ORDER ON YOUR ASS SO FAST YOUR HEAD WILL SPIN."
Rex chucked her under the chin, as she furiously batted his fingers away. "That's no way to treat an old friend, Sophia. I wouldn't be tolerating your crippled presence if I hadn't made a promise to Christopher on his deathbed to give you these." He haughtily hurled a mountain of paperwork in her lap and sauntered off with a maniacal, "Best of luck, Dearest!"
Five seconds later, he popped back into the room, eyes glowing demonically. "By the way, that old friend you always used to talk about. What was her name? Oh right! Aria Edwards! Well, you'll be thrilled to learn that I have her eating out of the palm of my hand. And you thought my days of breaking hearts and stealing trusts funds were over. Ta Ta, Darling." Pompously, he BANGED the door closed, his cocky whistling reverberating down the hall.
Sophia paged through the documents consisting of bills Christopher had accrued from purchases he couldn't afford, and the deed to a house, which was not your average home, but her dream house, that just happened to be a five-minute walk from Westhaven Circle. Marcus and Aria could be inseparable again, as soon as she moved into the house which Christopher had miraculously managed to pay for with… She reread the account number that the payments had been taken from. Christopher had used the money he had been setting aside since he was thirteen. He had been bragging about this secret stash since the day they met, vowing to put into a retirement account when the time was right. Christopher had spent his entire life savings… FOR HER.
Wretchedly, Sophia thrust the documents off her lap and onto the floor, giving in to the urge to weep, until she had no more tears to cry. She had evolved from uncontrollable bawling to agonizing wheezing when Marcus strolled into 7G, tossed his paper hat against the wall (he had finally managed to get a job at Wing Stop the week before), and collapsed on the sofa. A cloud of dust hung in the air, as he groaned theatrically.
"Four hours of dipping artificial chicken into artery-clogging batter does not give you the right to neglect your boyfriendly duties. Where's my hug? My kiss? My promise that you'll call a PROFESSIONAL to fix the garbage disposal!"
"Sophia," Marcus gently chided, mentally preparing himself for entering Rocky Relationship Territory, "I know that wheezing. That's your Christopher Wheeze. And the aftermath of Christopher's death is something you have to handle on your own. I can hold your hand, but I can't heal your pain. This ball's in your court, Gorgeous!"
Sophia couldn't resist a smirk. "Maybe you just did, Marcus. Maybe you already have."
