Page 21 of One Small Secret

He shakes his head. “Trust me, it wouldn’t make my grandfather any worse than he already is. I thought perhaps with you in Vietnam he would give up on teasing me about you.”

I laugh. “Only Ben can tease Ruben Palmer. Everyone else is too scared of you.”

“He still treats me like I’m in high school.”

“I liked you when you were in high school.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Sure I did. You weren’t too big for your britches then.”

Ruben’s eyebrows furrow and he smirks. “I wasn’t what?”

“Too big for your britches.” I repeat, slower this time. He still doesn’t seem to understand. “It’s a saying. Surely you’ve heard Ben say it.” This makes him smile, and I want to curse. I need to start hanging out with people my own age. “It means you think too much of yourself—like you’ve outgrown your pants.” Ruben’s eyes spark and he opens his mouth to say something, but then looks down at Axley and changes his mind. That dirty little perv. I groan. Why am I referencing his pants at all? “Please tell me you weren’t going to say something gross, like that Daphne never complains about—”

He lifts one of his hands and covers my mouth. “Cadence, not in front of Axley.”

I bite his finger—just a nip—enough for him to remove his hand. “So you were thinking that.”

“Not exactly that.”

I give him a victory smile. “Looks like I still know you pretty well.”

“Not as well as you think.”

“If that is some reference to your britches again…”

“Geez, no. Get your mind out of the gutter, Crane.”

We cross the street in silence, and Ruben lifts the stroller over the curb. There are no cars filling up with gas or parked in the stalls, which means I’m the only person on this block still looking for last-minute gifts. Way to go, Cadence.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ruben asks.

I just bit his finger a minute ago. It’s giving me whiplash trying to keep up with how this man goes from intimate to nearly professional in the blink of an eye. “Of course.”

“Do you always think of me as Ruben Palmer?”

“What?”

“Just now, you said only my grandfather can tease Ruben Palmer. Is that how you think of me?”

I furrow my eyebrows and bend over to unbuckle Axley. “You are Ruben Palmer. How else would I think of you?” When I look up, he's looking at the two of us like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. It’s a strange look on someone who’s usually so self-assured. “Are you okay waiting out here? I can’t really buy your present while you watch.”

“You don’t need—”

I cut him off. “Yes, I do. Deal with it. And no complaining about the quality either. There are only so many luxury items to be found at a gas station.”

“Breath mints?”

“Dang it, Palmer.” I use his last name just like our debate coach used to, and the furrows between his eyes soften. I’m not sure what’s wrong with thinking of him as “Ruben Palmer,” but I can think of plenty of other things to call him if that’s what he wants. “Breath mints were on the top of my list. Now what am I going to get you? No more guessing.”

He laughs and pulls Axley’s beanie down lower so it covers his ears. “Okay, I’ll wait here, and you better impress me. I got you something really good.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “You did?” What would be a really good present from someone with unlimited income? A Porsche? No, that’s ridiculous. Where would Axley sit? Probably a Mercedes.

He narrows his eyes. “I see those wheels spinning. Fine, my gift isn’t that good. Go get whatever you’re getting. We both know you're only doing it to settle the score that only you are keeping.”

He grabs both of my shoulders and physically turns me toward the gas station. The evening had started vibrant, but Ruben’s last words ring a little hollow as I place Axley on my hip and amble forward. I’m the only one keeping score. He isn’t. I’m the only one keeping tabs on the other. I don’t have a massive social media following or news stories being published about me. Those things had allowed me to still feel a connection to Ruben after all these years, but if he’d wanted to keep up with me, well, he would have had to reach out. And he hadn’t. Not even once in the three years I was in Vietnam. I’m not sure what brought him crashing into my world on Christmas Eve. When I’d said I wanted to talk again, I’d meant maybe we could chat at the water cooler, or have dinner with our families again, but this? This was new. Could it be because of Axley? If it is, I don’t blame Ruben—Axley is pretty amazing. But it can’t be just me. I’ve been accessible for years, and he’s never even called to wish me a Merry Christmas before.

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