Keeping Seven

by T. A Richards Neville

  I let my thoughts drift away from her, persuading them to venture into a place where she didn’t exist.

  The air thickened, and I clamped my hand around the corner of the seat when a rogue, gusting wind swept in from the ocean like it’d been summoned by my own morbid thoughts, sucking Angel away from me like a vacuum. Her dark hair lifted from her shoulders, swirling behind her before settling back in place, the air turning still again.

  Angel touched her hand to my face, the heat from her palm seeping into my jaw and trickling down my neck. “What are you thinking, Julian?”

  I decided not to lie. If I was asking this girl to marry me, best now to get a feel for where her head was at. I wanted to be sure we’d well and truly cleared the hurdles that made our journey here a fucking bumpy one.

  “I’m thinking what my life might look like if your face wasn’t in it.”

  “And?” Angel leaned into me, drawing me closer with her locked ankles. “How’s that looking?” A teasing smile curled the left side of her gorgeous mouth.

  “Don’t know. Can’t see it. I can’t even remember what life felt like before you came to Boston. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know. I had this part planned and figured out. Mostly.”

  Angel’s smile wilted, her curious, glassy gaze searching my face. But she was right where I wanted her and precisely where she belonged. So, the plans went out the window, the moment I’d stupidly thought could be manually constructed with meticulous, premeditated steps landing perfectly in my lap without any interfering or involvement from me.

  I patted down my pockets, knowing fine well the only thing in them was my cell phone. The now or never weighing on me like a sheet of rock, I sucked in the clean Maine air and blew out a breath. Then loosened Angel’s ankles from behind my back and got down amongst the pebbles and sand on one bended knee, looking up at the woman I would never in a million lifetimes deserve but damn well wanted anyway.

  I took her hand, heat rushing through my body from the simple touch. Christ, I was nervous.

  “Oh my god...” Angel’s free hand darted up to her face, her fingers slanting over parted lips.

  “You were made for me, Angel. Anything before you was just time passing while I waited.” Tears slid down her cheeks, one after the other. “I bought a ring for this. I had this whole fucking night planned out to the letter. But you know me, too impulsive for my own good.” I paused for a much-needed breath. “Marry me, Angel. Make me the happiest man in this whole damn world and marry me.”

  She sniffed, wiping under her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “You just swore so many times,” she said with a weak smile.

  “Do you want me to swear again? Because I’m close.”

  She slid off the swing, perching herself on my thigh that wasn’t pressed to the damp ground. “Yes, Julian. Yes.” She pressed her mouth to mine, tears and all. “Yes.” I kissed her back. “I’ll marry you.”

  The waning, orange glow from the firepit cackled on the patio, the surrounding seats empty. The bedroom I shared with Angel was located on the ground floor of the house, French doors opening onto a balcony that overlooked the water. Thankfully, neither of us had remembered to lock the French doors, and we crept into our room, managing to avoid everyone. My biggest concern being Rebecca.

  My fingers entwined in Angel’s spill of hair, her head tilted back on my chest to look up at me. The high moon reflected in her honey irises.

  I peered down at her, one arm bent behind my head. It was too quiet out here for me to sleep. I’d grown up with traffic and the white noise associated with big cities. Out here, in rural Maine, it was just the occasional wave break and the nocturnal chattering calls of nature.

  It was unsettling.

  “Can I see it?” she asked.

  “See what?”

  “The ring. You said there was a ring.”

  “There is a ring.”

  “When can I have it?”

  “I fucked up tonight, Angel. I’m holding onto the rest of my surprises so at least part of the engagement process can be considered romantic. Tomorrow night I’m taking you out, and that’s all I’m telling you.”

  “Are we keeping this a secret until then?”

  “Unless you don’t mind Rebecca castrating me, then yeah. Tonight stays between us. This wasn’t how I saw my proposal playing out, but my gut said it was the right time.”

  Angel raised up onto her elbows, and I winced when she planted one a little bit too hard in the center of my ribcage. “Christ. Those are some sharp bones.”

  She lifted her elbow, rubbing the spot she’d almost punctured. “Sorry.”

  I captured her hand in mine and kissed her fingertips. “So that kiddy crush Taj had on you never went away.”

  Angel rolled her eyes, then shifted her gaze to the glass doors. The moon bathed her skin in its milky glow, her irises like little lights in the dark. “He doesn’t have a crush on me.”

  I smiled at how deep in denial she’d sunk. Unless she really didn’t see it. She was fucking innocent like that. “Yeah, Angel. He does. No need for pornos when he’s got you in the flesh.”

  She closed her eyes, then slid me a sickened look. “Julian. Don’t be so nasty. He’s thirteen.”

  I laughed, running my fingers through the hair that fell over her shoulder. So fucking clueless. “I’m gonna see what’s in the fridge. I’m hungry. Want me to bring you something if I find food worth eating?”

  My mom and Gary had stopped off in town for groceries—most of that consisting of alcohol—but since we ate out earlier, I hadn’t checked out the grub situation yet.

  “We just ate,” Angel said from underneath slanted brows. “A few hours ago.”

  “And I’m hungry again.” Angel shifted off me when I sat up, and I swung my legs over the side of the bed, strolling to the kitchen in just my boxers. No one would be awake at this time, and even if they were, I didn’t care.

  I padded over the Graphite gray hardwood floors, scrubbing a hand over the top of my hair. The kitchen was huge, and I rounded the center island, pulling open the long cabinet that housed the refrigerator. I squinted in the harsh white glare from the automated light, my eyes raking over the moderately bare shelves inside. Nothing looked appealing, so I closed the fridge and tried the overhead cabinets instead, not holding out for much in there, either.

  I grabbed a box of unopened cereal, reading the brand in the nonexistent light, what little streamed in through the windows barely touching my eyes.

  “Bran,” I muttered, tearing open the seal. “It’ll do.” Stuffing my hand into the top of the box and into the bag, I grabbed a handful of flakes and poured them into my mouth. Dry as fuck. I’d need a glass of milk if I stood any chance of swallowing.

  I closed the cabinet door, my eyes drifting toward the bay window over the double sink. I walked over there, chewing on a mouthful of what tasted like dusty paste. The voices bordered inaudible, but there was definitely someone out there. I hovered by the edge of the window frame, narrowing my eyes to adjust to the dense darkness. Two very distinct figures stood on the porch, the smaller figure leaning with their back against the railing.

  My mom.

  “What the…” I stopped eating, the dry gunk in my mouth sealing like glue behind my teeth as I frowned heavily at the scene unfolding with the delicacy of a goddamn car crash.

  My dad’s head dipped, his face joining with my mom’s in a kiss that lasted ten seconds too long to be considered platonic. The overpowering urge to pound on the glass and break them up tingled in my fingers, the cereal box in my left hand collapsing under my tightening fist. My face twisted into an even deeper frown as my brain tried to make sense of my mom’s arms sloping over his shoulders, her hands joining behind his neck to deepen the kiss to the point they’d pretty much transformed into one fucking person.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I couldn’t stand here and watch any more of it, though.

  Turning on the faucet, I ran
the cold water, bending and opening my mouth directly under the icy stream, gulping at the water and washing away the shit in my mouth. I left the cereal and my appetite right there on the oak countertop.

  B ar Harbor’s main street was lit up from every angle, the quaint stores, bars and restaurants embellished and trimmed with oversized, illuminated signs and quirky characters, looking like a scene straight out of a postcard.

  Julian held my hand in his as we strolled along the sidewalk that sloped down to the bay, tourists and locals out here enjoying the relaxed night scenery with us. Bar Harbor wasn’t short of any visitors, that was for sure.

  “You feel like hitting up one of these bars?” Julian looked down at me, one eyebrow elevated in question. I loved how big he was. Knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to use that strength if it ever came to protecting me. With him, I was safe. And he’d offered me that safety from now until the end. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. “You look too good not to show off.”

  I smiled, my skin heating from Julian’s long, suggestive gaze raking over my body. I’d chosen a short, dark green satin dress to wear, fully expecting I’d have a ring on my finger to compliment my outfit by now.

  My finger was still bare.

  “You just showed me off at dinner. Which was delicious, by the way.”

  Julian stopped outside the sea-blue doorway of an eclectic white and brown clapboard building. A moose adorned in a sequence of flashing lightbulbs winked while tilting from side-to-side in the center of a larger sign that announced this was ‘The Tipsy Moose’.

  “Should we go in?” Julian asked.

  I glanced up again at the sign, then through the windows that showed a boisterous crowd inside. “Why not?” I peered closer through the glass. “Is that karaoke?”

  Julian grinned and pushed open the door. Music spilled out from the bar, an overplayed country song in mid-destruction curtesy of a woman on the small stage, her high, scratchy pitch appealing to all cats in the area.

  I walked inside after Julian, squeezing through the crowd. One by one, people’s heads turned in recognition of the tall, muscular football player currently dominating the NFL and bringing the good kind of attention to Miami. Fingers pointed in our direction as we bypassed the bar and headed for a spiral staircase leading to the second floor. Without asking if it was okay for him to do so, Julian unhooked the red rope that blocked the entrance to the staircase.

  “Can you do that?” I asked, glancing around the rowdy main floor for any staff members.

  “I just did.”

  Shadowy light flickered over the brick-exposed walls, emanating from the floor upwards. “I don’t think we should be up here,” I said to Julian from behind. Even though there was no sound barrier between upstairs and downstairs, the music started to fade out the higher we descended, an eerie silence from above warning me we were doing something wrong. And I didn’t do things wrong. Disobeying rules made me incredibly anxious.

  Julian stepped onto the second level, putting his back to the empty room when I joined him just a few seconds after. I barely had time to register what was laid out on front of me. Digest the pale pink rose petals scattered across the cherry-wood floorboards. Taper candles glowing in the corners of the room and along the walls.

  “Angel…”

  From what appeared to be out of nowhere, but I knew wasn’t actually possible, Taj walked toward us with a sheepish expression on his face, a small black box in his hand that he gave to Julian.

  I watched, suspended in a frozen moment of bliss and disbelief as Julian opened the box. I’d known since last night there was a ring. Known there was more to Julian’s story than the teaser he’d already given me. But the surprise and excitement tackled me around my heart just as hard and unexpected. This was really happening.

  “I had this made for you, and I hope to God you’ll do me the honor of wearing it.”

  My throat constricted, my emotions riding a wafer-thin line as Julian took the ring out of its cushion. He lifted my hand from where it rested at my side, sliding the ring onto my engagement finger. I took in the diamond shaped like a rose and the vintage leaves encasing it. Nothing I could have ever imagined would turn out as beautiful as this ring. My outfit was subpar in comparison.

  I held my hand in front of my face, impatient to feel Julian’s promise to me with my own fingers. Then I looked at him, the incriminating dent in his neat eyebrows giving away nerves that only made him that much more endearing to me.

  “I’ll wear it for the rest of my life. I love it, Julian. And I love you.”

  Whooping and cheering descended on the room, my family and Julian’s springing from their hiding positions through an archway I hadn’t noticed was there. I cupped my hands over my mouth and nose, overrun with emotions. Then Marilyn darted from the back of the crowd, veering right for me. I shrieked into my hands, pulling them from my face to wrap around her before she barreled us both to the ground. Julian’s hand steadied me at the small of my back, stopping Marilyn and I from hurtling down the steep staircase.

  “Let me see. Let me see.” Moisture glistened in the light under Marilyn’s eyes, and I realized the moose-horn chandeliers had come on. I flattened my hand in front of me, palm-side down, the extra light reflecting off the facets in my ring in a kaleidoscopic effect.

  I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, reining in my smile.

  “Wow, girl. Julian did you right.” Marilyn sighed with moony eyes, her fingers enveloping mine. “I can’t believe you two have made it this far. Who the fuck would’ve thought?” She looked across at Julian, her smile fiendish, and then she ushered him and Taj in for a squashed, four-way hug with three of my most favorite people in the world.

  Posted up at the bar with Michael, the bartender placed two beers on the counter. I’d paid for the room and bar bill in advance, so our families could order what they liked and not worry about the extortionate tab. Booking this run-of-the-mill place out had been a last-minute decision, equally driven by and thrown-off from my subjection to my mom and dad’s extra activities.

  There was no sugarcoating it. The two of them, together, had fucking put me off marriage, doubt creeping in with the subtlety of a steam roller. They’d also pushed me further to prove I could be different from them, especially when it came to my dad. I was determined never to end up like him. Even when all the odds were stacked against my favor. I’d expect this narcissistic shit from him, but my mom going back down that road was basically unthinkable. It just couldn’t happen. End of.

  Michael turned to me, his forearm leaning on the bar, hand wrapped around his beer. “I appreciate you coming to me this morning. In the six years I’ve known you, I never dreamed the day would come you’d give a hairy shit about my blessing.”

  “You’re Angel’s dad. You know what’s best for her. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t respect your judgement on whether I’m what’s best for your daughter? I wouldn’t want my kid with a guy so deep in his own ass the only time he comes out is for some personal deepthroat.”

  Michael lifted his beer to his lips. Trimmed, dark blonde eyebrows slanted over shrewd blue eyes, his gaze fishier than a salmon farm. “You just described yourself perfectly.”

  I shook my head with a grin, picking up my beer to take a drink. “Fine. Whatever. But Angel’s as important to me as she is to you. I can’t allow anyone to get in my way of being with her.”

  “Meaning me?” Michael straightened, lowering his beer to the counter. Christ, he looked pissed off. “Because from what I’ve seen and heard with my own eyes and ears, the biggest risk to your relationship with my daughter is you.”

  That fucking bet in college would haunt me forever.

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “But I’d be lying out my ass if I said I wasn’t impressed with your inhuman abilities to dig yourself out of your own grave without so much as a crooked table fork. If Angel’s serious about sharing her life with anyone, at least it’s with someone
who doesn’t back down from what he wants. You’ll make a good husband, Julian. And probably a shitty one too.”

  I tipped my beer to my lips, the cold liquid sliding down my throat. “Thanks. I felt that deep in the bottom of my heart.”

  Michael tipped his beer at me. “Look after that knee, kid. Understand? I’ve got a personal investment in seeing you succeed.”

  Didn’t he just. It wasn’t so out there that Michael would consider himself my coach until the day one of us died. Whichever unlucky bastard was first to go.

  “I won’t let you down.” I excused myself and headed to the restroom. In the short hallway, off the main floor, the door to the men’s bathroom swung inward, my dad standing in the spill of light like a fucking evil hallucination.

  Surprise froze his features in place, but then he smiled and stepped out into the hall, the door swinging closed at his back.

  “Julian, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you.”

  I pushed my hands into the pockets of my slate dress pants “Understandable. You’ve been busy.”

  Silent tension built between us, my dad’s eyes—aged mirrors to my own—narrowing in the corners, the lines that had deepened over the years becoming more pronounced.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” I told him, holding his unwavering stare, “you’re right.”

  “Julian, I—”

  “You’re fucking around with two women, and one of those women is my mom, you disrespectful asshole. I’m more interested in what’s on the bottom of my shoe than I am in how many places you can fit your dick at one time without getting caught.” I took a step forward, close enough that if he were two or three inches taller, we’d be nose-to-nose. “Leave. Her. Alone.”

  “And what if I still love her?”

  I doubted he was trying to be funny, but I laughed anyway. “The only person you love is yourself.”