Kat crept closer. Harold’s boggled eyes focused on mine, and I could sense he was wondering whether he should trigger the fire alarm or something. Gotta love a man dressed in a gingerbread man sweater, drinking a girly drink, and ready to make an even bigger ass of himself for my sake.
I didn’t know the answer, though.
Instead of taking any action, I stood like a statue as each second of Kat extending her arms out to hold the baby ticked by in super slo-mo. The baby immediately nestled her head against Kat’s shoulder, as if they belonged to each other.
Kat nuzzled the baby’s head with her nose. “I love that smell.”
“I know. I could just eat her,” said the woman closest, completely oblivious to the beauty of the moment. My wife was holding a baby.
My mind flashed back to the moment Kat had kissed Charlotte’s cheek before the casket was closed. Turning my head to the side, I flicked away a tear.
In therapy, we’d discussed trying again, but the thought was fleeting and neither of us pushed the subject, not ready to tackle the emotions that would surface.
The mom grinned. “Over and over, women always say that. I used to think it was weird, until I held my own baby.”
Harold’s face morphed into pure terror. It was like I could see the movie playing in his mind of females tearing apart babies, shouting in shrill zombie-like voices, “I could just eat it.”
The women surrounding us chattered like chipmunks, their voices screechy and almost unintelligible. Kat scooted a step away. I joined her. Her dark eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Kat sagged her upper body so I could see the now-sleeping child’s face.
I held her little hand with a finger. “She is.”
Kat’s smile contained something I couldn’t put my finger on.
“Ah, you’re a natural.” The mother intruded on the moment. “Do you have children of your own?” She put her arms out for her daughter.
My shoulders tensed, but Kat casually said, “Here ya go,” without answering the question.
The father joined the group. “Careful, ladies. This is how they trap you—so cute and innocent when they’re asleep. But which one of you will volunteer to be there at three in the morning when she starts to cry?”
Out of all the women, everyone laughed except Kat and me. Even Lucy laughed, although the determined way she did so implied she was only being a polite host.
Kat and I locked eyes. The message was clear: we’d wake up seventeen times a night if it meant Charlotte was here, not buried under the frozen ground ten miles away.
The group drifted from the window.
Sam lingered next to Harold, her expression questioning. The contortion of my face, which was the first step to eyestrain, probably wasn’t comforting.
Kat linked arms with me. “Shall we call it a night, sweetheart?” she asked as sweetly and confidently as she could muster.
I nodded.
“Are you sure, Kat? We haven’t voted for the best sweater yet, and you’re in the running.” Sam pointed to Kat’s sweater with an obligatory smile she probably hoped looked easygoing.
“There’s always next year. Maybe I’ll convince Cori to actually wear a risqué one.”
“In your dreams.” Sam walked us to the door, fully aware she’d never convince us to stay now. Harold shadowed us, placing our plates on a table to the side. “You leaving too, Harold?”
“Someone needs to escort these lovely ladies home.” He bowed like a knight, handing Sam his half-finished watermelon concoction.
Sam patted his cheek.
“Please tell Lucy thank you.” Kat kissed Sam’s cheek. “Such a lovely party.” Kat looped an arm through mine and then Harold’s.
Harold swooped our jackets into his free arm, readying for a fast break to the elevator.
When the elevator doors closed, Kat’s sobs released.
I wrapped her in my arms. “It’s okay. Let it go.”
Mercifully, the elevator didn’t stop once as we descended from the twelfth floor.
“I could go for cheesecake.” Harold was a pro when it came to perking Kat up.
She sniffled into my chest. “Yes. Salted caramel cheesecake.”
“The apple chimi cheesecake is calling my name,” I responded with a kiss on the top of her head.
Harold staggered on the balls of his feet. “I’m thinking the Hershey’s chocolate bar or red velvet or banana cream or dulce de leche caramel—”
All of us practically had The Cheesecake Factory menu memorized.
“Yes! I forgot the dulce de leche caramel one.” Kat squealed to the best of her ability, dabbing her eyes with the collar of her sweater.
“No limits tonight, team. I’m buying all the cheesecake until you pop.” I put my hand out like I used to do with my basketball team. Kat and Harold each placed a palm on top. “On three, people. One, two, cheesecake!” We stepped off the elevator. “Harold, can you—?”
He cut me off, mauling his phone with clumsy hands. “Already got the uber. T minus five minutes.”
“I’ll text Barbara. The place is around the corner from her.” Kat fished out her cell.
“Might as well call Mom, if she isn’t already with Barb,” I offered. A night like tonight called for reinforcements to keep Kat and me from losing our fricking minds.
“Good idea. I’ll send a group text.” Kat kissed my cheek.
***
“Did someone say cheesecake?” Roger’s booming voice matched his confident smile.
Kat, Harold, and I huddled in the corner of the entrance, waiting for a table to open at The Cheesecake Factory in Chestnut Hill on Boylston Street.
Mom and Barb brought their own reinforcements: their husbands.
“Roger.” Harold shook my uncle’s hand, which he did every time he greeted him. “Dale.” He extended his pale, scrawny hand out for my dad to shake too.
My dad and uncle liked having a de facto son around. Both stuck their chests out a bit more than usual when Harold was present.
It was ten p.m. on the Saturday before Christmas, but my family had dropped everything as soon as they got the group text. Whenever cheesecake was mentioned, it was a given Kat was struggling. Not that anyone would bring it up, unless Kat indicated she wanted to talk about it; most of the time she didn’t—only in therapy. But cheesecake became code for “Kat needs a pick-me-up.”
Kat made the rounds and hugged everyone.
“Love the sweater.” Roger nudged her arm. Kat responded by resting her head against his broad shoulder. He held her as if she were his own daughter. We made eye contact over her head, and Roger’s eyes conveyed such compassion and understanding I nearly lost it right then and there. God, he would have made a wonderful father. How did he cope with so much loss?
Not now, Cori.
Mom bopped my back. “Next year, I’m taking you shopping for Sam’s cheesy Christmas sweater contest. Snowflakes.” She shook her head at my lame-ass sweater. “It’s an embarrassment. What happened to my competitive daughter who had more trophies and ribbons than shelf space? Look at Kat and Harold. They tried. Really tried.”
Dad ruffled Harold’s soft brown hair, much to Harold’s delight. Harold’s father had died years ago, and even though he’d never mentioned it, the way he ate up attention from Dad and Roger was testament he was in dire need of a fatherly figure.
Mom continued with her harangue, shaking her head and muttering, “Disgrace.”
Harold nodded his agreement.
Leave it to my mom to sense my waterworks were about to turn on and to alleviate the situation by berating me. Only she would stoop to that level—the level I needed.
I gave her a tender embrace and whispered, “Thank you.”
She responded, “Anytime,” so only I could hear.
Roger placed a meaty hand on Harold’s shoulder. “What’s the news on your throuple? I’m expecting a
full report.”
Harold’s cheeks burned with manly pride.
“Are you ready?” The hostess, armed with seven menus, smiled. Her drooped shoulders suggested she’d rather we’d never shown up.
“Lead the way,” Barbara instructed, looping her arm through Kat’s.
The Cheesecake Factory hostess led us to a round table that comfortably sat the seven of us, with three chairs to spare.
“Now, Cori. Last time you only had one slice. I expect better from you tonight.” Roger rapped the menu, which showcased all the options. “No one goes home until they can’t possibly eat another morsel without puking. Not that puking to make more room is out of the hat, either.”
“Hey now. The slices are the size of my head,” I defended.
“You have a tiny head. That means nothing.” He waved me off.
Barbara and Mom shared an eye roll. Dad’s eyes widened. Harold was too busy pondering the choices, taking Roger’s challenge to heart. Kat, wedged between Barb and Mom, slanted her head to see into my eyes.
I mouthed, “I love you.”
Her smile mirrored my sentiment.
Operation Cheesecake had begun, and it was working.
Chapter Eight
The day after Christmas we invited Sam, Lucy, and Harold over to watch some bowl games. There were six games scheduled, not that the goal was to endure all of them—probably not even half of them—but we’d purchased enough food to power us ’til dawn. Kat had been doing her best to show an interest in college football this season—partly, I assumed, because she was excited about the upcoming trip to New Orleans, which she and my family had been preparing for months, and wanted to cram some knowledge in about the sport.
“How are we going to break the London news to Harold?” I asked while prepping the vegetarian lasagna, the one meal I could cook with relative success. Earlier, Kat had prepared one with meat.
“Why will Harold be upset about London?” Kat peeled carrots for the veggie platter, which already had celery, cucumber, broccoli, cauliflower, bell peppers, and ranch dip. The guests weren’t due for another hour, and with the heat emanating from the two ovens, we were roasting. A slice of carrot shot off the cutting board, and Kat bent down to retrieve it. She was wearing just a top and an apron, and I eyed her naked ass.
Kat grinned over her shoulder. “Getting a good look, my dear?”
“Hmmm… not bad, but I think you dropped something over there.” I bucked my chin to the spotless corner of the granite-tiled floor.
She stood. “If you want to see me naked, just ask.”
“I want to see you naked.” I haphazardly tossed the slimy noodles onto the pan and started to remove my apron.
“Not now,” she teased. “Our guests will be here soon.”
“I’d be more than happy to cancel.” I whipped my cell phone out of my shorts pocket.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make up for it later. I promise.” Her arms encircled my waist and she kissed me passionately, letting me know I wouldn’t regret the wait.
“Okay, fine. I’ll try to behave.” I retied the apron around my waist.
“Help me a second, will ya?” She motioned to the veggie and cheese platters. I picked them up and followed her to the dining area. The floor plan of the house was open in the front, so from our dining room table we could view the television in the family area. We set everything up buffet-style, allowing guests to wander freely to the couches and kitchen. On the back deck, a cooler, minus ice, housed all the beer and Harold’s pink drinks. We worried about the bottles freezing in the subzero temperature.
Kat dumped tortilla chips into a bowl and set the homemade salsa next to it.
“How much time until you put the lasagna in the oven?” Kat asked.
“Not long. Why?”
“Fancy a dip in the hot tub?”
I was already perspiring like I was walking on the surface of the sun, but I would never turn down hopping in the tub with Kat, who usually skinny-dipped, day or night. Thank God for her confidence and for tall fences.
Ten minutes later, we both eased into the water. Since we were expecting guests, Kat had insisted we put our suits on.
She rested her head against the lip of the tub. “Ah, just what I needed.”
Since the accident, Kat experienced aches and pains in her lower back and neck she said were minor, but I suspected she wasn’t being completely upfront.
“Do you hurt?” I asked.
“Not much. How’s your back?”
“Never better.”
“You’re such a bad liar.”
She splashed water at me.
“Take that back!” I sloshed water back at her.
“Or what?”
I floated over to her. “Or this.” I swept her into my arms and kissed her forcefully; she met my passion, quickly upping the heat factor.
“Whoa, you two! What’ll the neighbors think?” I didn’t have to take a look-see over my shoulder to confirm it was Sam. I’d know her authoritative voice from a million miles away.
“Showtime,” Kat whispered in my ear and then nibbled on the lobe. “Perfect timing, you two. Cori just said she was starving.” Kat stood on the bench, getting ready to hop out.
“Yeah, and I know for what.”
I caught Samantha ogling Kat’s wet body. Lucy was as well, which made me chuckle.
Sam put up a hand. “Don’t get out. We’re coming in.”
Kat pivoted to get back into the water, and I glimpsed the C-section scar along the top of her bikini bottoms, a reminder of Dr. Wicks’ words that my wife’s womb would never house another baby. I cupped some water into my hands and rinsed my face so Kat wouldn’t see the lone tear.
Harold unintentionally aided my ruse by bumbling through the kitchen door, holding a book at eye level and pummeling Sam to the ground.
“Now that’s what I call perfect timing and justice,” I said, feigning a menacing look at Sam, the ogler.
Lucy and Kat laughed.
“Sam, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Harold picked up the book from the snow, instead of the woman he’d knocked to the ground. Gotta love a dedicated book nerd.
“Actually, I think you saved my hide.” She perched on a mound of snow I’d shoveled earlier to make a path to the hot tub.
Harold cocked his head with a confused but brazen smile on his face. That smile used to drive me bonkers when I was first getting to know him; now I found it endearing. It was just so Harold, our clueless but utterly loyal friend.
Lucy proffered her hand to Sam, yanked her up, and proceeded to dust off her ass. They seemed on better terms today, and I wondered whether Sam had talked to her about the Inez situation. I hoped they’d had a heart-to-heart on some level.
“We’ll be right back. I think we’re a tad overdressed.” Sam tweaked the fringe of her black and purple scarf.
The girls joined us first in the hot tub.
“Harold should be out soon. He couldn’t find his swim trunks.” Lucy shrugged.
We always kept their spare swimwear in a drawer in the laundry room.
I quirked a brow at Sam.
“I only hid it a bit. It won’t take him too long.”
“Why do you torment him so?”
“Maybe because I was an only child. He’s like the annoying baby brother I never had.”
I licked my lips, and Lucy’s face crumbled. We had made it clear we intended to have more than one child.
Sam, realizing her error, veered away from the topic. “Sorry we came early. I wanted to have a bit of a soak before the football and eating extravaganza.” Sam scrunched down in the water, up to her chin. “Damn, Luce, we need to get one.”
“You’re welcome here anytime,” Kat said, meaning every word.
“Shhh… we’ll never get rid of them,” I said in an effort to keep the conversation away from the danger zone.
Sam filled her mouth with water and
squirted it at me, nailing me right in the eye.
I simulated a boxing jab, which didn’t intimidate her at all.
Harold stepped outside in his Marvel Comic swim trunks, which featured dozens of characters. He was still clutching the book and I’d bet twenty bucks he wanted to keep reading but feared Sam and I would rough house and ruin the hardcover.
Sam eyed the spine on the ledge. “Neverwhere. How many times can you read the same book?”
Harold swiveled away from Sam and locked eyes on Kat, terrified.
Sam studied him and then Kat. Lucy was too busy popping the top off a beer. Lucy pushed her glasses up her nose and took a healthy swig, especially considering it wasn’t even noon. Why hadn’t I thought of fetching a beer before getting in? Out of the five of us, Lucy was the more practical one.
Then I put two and two together. “Harold knew!” I bellowed.
Kat patted my cheek. “Of course he did. Who do you think has been handling all the details? He’s our assistant, remember?”
Harold fit into our professional and personal lives so seamlessly I couldn’t imagine him being kept in the dark. Yet, I still was vexed he’d known before I did.
“Oh, you told her about London.” Sam motioned for Lucy to pass the Sam Adams’ White Christmas bottle.
“Sam knew!”
Everyone shrugged and then ignored me completely.
I stewed for a minute, until Kat’s foot found its way into my lap. She massaged my magic spot, and no one in the tub was wise to what was happening under the surface of the bubbling steam. It didn’t last long. Kat started to giggle, and heat invaded my face. I’d been had on several levels. She jacked up an eyebrow, and I beckoned with a finger. Sam cheered and Harold’s eyes boggled as Kat and I kissed.
“I’ll get even, Kat,” I grumbled.
“Please do. Maybe plan a secret trip to Paris or something.” Her brash smile made my heart flutter and jumpstarted my libido. Kat sat on my lap and leaned into my embrace. “That would really teach me a lesson.”
Harold snapped his fingers. “Oh, Cori, before I forget, I scheduled your podcast with my blogging buddy. The end of January. It’ll be the kickoff to your tour.”
Confessions From the Dark Page 8