Room to Breathe

by Liz Talley

  “That’s okay. I would love to have one, but, yeah, I don’t relish a DUI on my record. Though coffee isn’t alcoholic.”

  “I can make that, but I wanted to say something to you before . . . I mean, I don’t really know how to do this after that debacle of a dinner. Or rather the ending was a cluster, um, you know. But I enjoyed the actual dinner and conversation.”

  Evan looked over at her. “Daphne, it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I want to be totally transparent here because I like you. I would love to get to know you better and continue what I think would be . . . good. I think it could be good between us.”

  He shifted into park and turned toward her. “I like you, too, but you threw me a bit of a curve tonight. I thought we already had something, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. I mean, I’d like to ask Ellery why she pretended to be you for so long. Still, I can’t say I’m not attracted to you. Dinner was pretty nice, well, up until the end.” His smile was sheepish.

  In the faint light from her porch, she could see how attractive he was. The clean-shaven jaw, firm lips, whiskey eyes. Her tummy did its flippy thing, so she turned away. “Yeah, and that’s the thing. Ellery’s angry at me. Ellery’s angry at a lot of things in her life.”

  “Growing up is hard. She’s still in that zone, truly moving from child to adult. That doesn’t happen at eighteen. A switch isn’t flipped and suddenly you’re a taxpaying, über-responsible adult with all the answers.”

  “No, it’s not. I never went through what she went through. By the time I was twenty-three years old, I had a six-year-old and had been married for almost seven years. No traditional college, no dating, no first job. Not to mention, the world is so very different now. You’re right, she’s at that place . . . which means I’m at that place, too.”

  He made a confused face.

  “I’m newly single after being married for a long time, and I haven’t dated until now. I’m still learning how to walk in my big-girl shoes. They feel high and wobbly at present.”

  “And you’ve never been with anyone other than your husband?”

  Daphne’s face must have shown surprise at his query, because his eyes grew wide. “Oh crap, I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly talking about sex. I mean . . . uh, I shouldn’t have asked that. Rusty, remember?” Evan’s face actually turned red.

  Daphne managed a smile. “It’s okay. And ironically that’s what’s sitting between me and Ellery. I . . . well.” She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I slept with someone she didn’t approve of. She only recently found out and is very angry with me. So to answer your question, yes, I have been with someone else, but it was an embarrassing one-night stand that never should have happened.”

  She snuck a look at his face. He tilted his head and she couldn’t read his expression. “I don’t understand. Why would she be so upset? You said you’ve been divorced for a few years?”

  Daphne hadn’t wanted to come quite so clean. If she told him about Clay, she’d be so squeaky clean she might never see him again. But the upside would be starting a relationship with a blank slate—no secrets, no shame. For some reason, she was tired of hiding and pretending. “This is hard to admit because I’m such a rule follower and very conscious of my choices, but I went a bit crazy almost a month ago. I drank too much wine and slept with”—she sucked in another deep breath before closing her eyes and exhaling—“one of Ellery’s ex-boyfriends.”

  A second passed, then another. Finally, she cracked one eye open and looked over at him.

  Evan looked flabbergasted.

  Cripes. She shouldn’t have told him about sleeping with Clay. She barely knew him, and now he would think she truly was a whore.

  But then Evan smiled. “You . . . you . . . did what? You slept with . . .” He started chuckling. “So that’s why she called you . . . oh my God, that’s . . . kinda . . . awesome.”

  Daphne opened both eyes. “Awesome?”

  “I mean, not for her. And maybe not for me, because it’s not like I want to imagine you with someone else, especially someone who’s twenty.”

  “He wasn’t twenty. Jeez.”

  “Look, I understand how those things happen. I mean, this whole rebounding thing ain’t for the faint of heart. I made some missteps myself. I took out a woman my sister set me up with, and I pretty much did the same thing you did. We had a one-night thing, and suddenly she was planning our wedding. That got rough fast. Then I tried Tinder because one of my friends talked me into it. The woman I met at the bar was twenty-one and brought a flogger thing in her purse. She asked me if I was willing to role-play.”

  Daphne lifted her eyebrows. “A flogger?”

  “Yeah, and we hadn’t even finished our first drink.”

  “She wanted to whip you?”

  Evan shrugged. “I dunno. She seemed excited about the possibility. I faked a text that my daughter was sick and told her I had to go. I may have actually jogged to my truck. The dating scene is crazy.”

  “I planned to do a dating site but kept putting it off. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done something so . . . impulsive. At least you tried to do it the right way. I just got hammered and lost my damned mind.”

  Evan seemed to grow serious. “This truly is all very new to you.”

  “It is,” Daphne said. She looked down at her hands twisted together in her lap. “But I’m ready to move on with my life. I’ve grieved my marriage and spent several years trying to claim a life for myself. That being said, I need to fix some things, like my relationship with Ellery, before I jump into a new relationship. I don’t want to start something feeling this bad.”

  “What if you can’t fix things?” he asked.

  Daphne squeezed her hands together hard, almost wincing at the pressure. “I can. As soon as I figure out how.”

  “Sometimes all it takes is time.”

  Daphne felt so warmed by his understanding. “You’re such a gentleman. I’m fairly certain anyone else would have tossed me out of his moving vehicle and watched me roll in the light of his taillights.”

  “I reserve that right for the second date,” he said with a grin. “So how about I walk you to the door and we do this first-date thing the right way?”

  “And what does that entail?” she asked, unbuckling her seat belt.

  “Me getting nervous wondering if you’ll let me kiss you. Then wonder if a hug says I have no skills as a player but also know a handshake would portray no interest. And if I manage to get a kiss, how far should I take it? A light peck or. . .” He shrugged.

  She crooked a finger at him. “Let me set aside your worries.”

  “I like the way you first date, lady,” he said with an impish light in his eyes.

  “Kiss me already.”

  So he did, his lips a soft whisper before growing bolder. He framed her face in his hands, so tender, as if he would drink from her, take from her, and it was hot and gorgeous and sexy all at once. The rasp of his jaw before she slid a hand to his thick hair, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss, sent desire lapping against her pelvis, uncurling sweet heat and desire. Evan tasted complex—wine and sex, moonlight and earth, old and new.

  Finally, he pulled his lips from hers. “Not bad for a first kiss.”

  “You’re implying there will be a second,” she whispered as he stroked his big thumb against her lower lip. Want pounded within her along with the realization that this was right. This was what she wanted with a man. This. Right. Here.

  “I’m planning on it,” he said, telling her exactly what she wanted to hear.

  Daphne was jolted from the memory of Evan and her date back to the present when the doors swooshed open—she was in CVS. She needed to buy hemorrhoidal cream, and oh, by the way, her daughter’s fiancé was gay.

  She’d told Evan she could fix her daughter, but Tippy Lou’s words came back to her. Ellery had to fix her own world. Finding out her fiancé was gay and in love with another man would be the biggest blow of all.
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  “Can I help you, ma’am?” a store clerk asked from the end of an aisle.

  “I need to find Benadryl?” Daphne asked.

  “Aisle four by the pharmacy.”

  “Oh, and where’s your wine?”

  “Right up front where you can grab it quick, sugar,” the woman said, returning to the empty checkout station.

  If anyone needed a glass of wine after taking her father his requested sundries, it was Daphne Witt. And if there was anyone else who would soon need a glass of wine more, it was Ellery Witt.

  Daphne could only pray and wait to see how things would play out. Would Ellery come to her . . . or would the silence between them continue?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Dear Ellery,

  I accept your apology, but I disagree with you about your mother. That being said, I have no skin in this game between you. I hope that you will both soon see that life is too short to hold a grudge for long.

  Best,

  Evan McCallum

  Ellery shoved her phone away from her and lined the shot glasses up across the bar. Five. At this point, she might as well go for six and break the record she’d established spring break of 2015. But if she did that, the floor would rise up to meet her because she’d been shooting tequila, and everyone knew that tequila made your clothes fall off . . . or made you barf. Probably both for some people.

  All she knew was that no clothes would be dropping that night.

  After all, she was drinking alone at Elmo’s, wearing an old Victoria’s Secret sweatshirt and jeans that she usually did yard work in. And house slippers. She may have brushed her hair before she called an Uber, but she wasn’t sure. She had brushed her teeth after the crying jag she’d indulged in. She remembered that much.

  “You don’t want another, do you?” the bartender asked, looking like he hoped the answer was no. He was new to Elmo’s, and she didn’t know him. The regular bar manager had back surgery and couldn’t work for another month. She really needed to remember to send ol’ Charlie a get-well card or make him some cookies. Two regular waitresses, Tina and Kelsi, were working the tables, and Jeremy was assisting this new guy, who was pretty hot and getting plenty of looks from the women clumping in groups around the bar.

  “Maybe in a minute,” Ellery said, trying hard not to slur her words. She had to really focus on speaking clearly. “Hey, what’s your name again?”

  “Chris.” He looked worried, but he didn’t have to be. She was going to be fine. F-I-N-E.

  “Yeah, that’s right. You’re new.”

  “I am,” he said, glancing over at Jeremy, who shot him a bemused look.

  “I know another bartender who looks like you. He’s an asshole, though,” she said, knowing that she’d totally slurred the word asshole.

  “Don’t sell me short,” Chris said, popping off the lids of three Bud Lights and setting them on Tina’s tray.

  “Guess what? I got dumped today. Tina, did you hear? I got dumped. No longer engaged,” Ellery said, frowning when someone jostled her elbow. “Hey, watch it.”

  “You told me already. I’m sorry about that, Ellery,” Tina said, ignoring the tray of beers. Instead she walked around the bar, grabbed a bottle of water, and poured it into a clean glass. She set it in front of Ellery. “Try some water, honey.”

  Ellery stared at the glass. Chris reached over and stuck a lime on the rim. “I don’t want water. I want more tequila. Let’s all do a shot and celebrate how I’m single again.”

  Tina shook her head and shot Chris a look. “You need to call someone.”

  “No one to call,” Ellery said, because even though the room looked fuzzy and could be tilting a little, she knew this to be absolutely true. Her fiancé was probably blowing Drew, the guy he was truly in love with. Whatever. And her mother wasn’t speaking to her. Okay, it was the other way around, but the last person she wanted to come get her was her whore of a mother. But wait. Didn’t matter, because Dee Dee O’Hara was on her book tour anyway. Ellery’s friends were out of town. Rachel was on a date. She couldn’t interrupt that because Rachel would kill her. Her daddy was on a trip with Cindy. New Orleans or somewhere fun. Whatever. Who cared? She didn’t need any of them anyway.

  She looked at her hand, the third finger on her left hand, and wiped a tear away. Josh had come clean about everything that morning. The video was his, or rather him and Drew filming themselves doing each other. He’d fallen in love with Drew, and that was that. Oh, Josh had cried and carried on, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He’d left carrying her big engagement ring, and she’d started drinking. Eventually, she’d decided to come to Elmo’s, though she didn’t know why she’d made that decision. Drunk people didn’t make good decisions.

  Neither did people named Ellery who were dumb blondes who thought they could make things work when they couldn’t make things do anything. Or something like that. Even her thoughts were broken.

  Someone sat down on her left. She squinted at the person and frowned. “Well, of course, it’s you. Why wouldn’t it be you sitting next to me on the single worst night of my life?”

  Clay Caldwell shook his head. “Elle, dude, you’re wasted.”

  “Ding! You are correct, sir. That was my goal.” She slapped her chest and noticed a stain on her sweatshirt. She hoped it wasn’t drool. She may have dozed in the Uber on the way to Elmo’s. “I rock.”

  Clay looked over at Chris, who was not nearly as cute as Gage, by the way. Not even close. “Shit, how many has she had?”

  Ellery counted the upside-down shot glasses, tapping each one. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”

  “Jeez, Elle, drink some water,” Clay said, sliding the sweating glass toward her.

  “You may have fucked my mom, but you aren’t my daddy, Clay Caldwell,” Ellery said, poking his arm with her finger.

  Clay’s expression was mad. She could tell because his mouth made a line.

  “I’m calling Josh to come get you.” He pulled out his phone. “He gave me his number a few weeks ago.”

  “I bet he did,” Ellery drawled. Or tried to drawl. She wasn’t sure if it came out as intended. “But he isn’t going to come get me. We broke up. See?” She held up her naked left hand.

  “Then I’m calling your mother,” Clay said.

  “Fine, but she’s in San ’tonio.”

  Clay set his cell phone down on the bar. “Then I’ll take you home.”

  “Over my dead body,” Ellery quipped, tapping the bar. “I’ll have another. Now.”

  Clay shook his head. “You’re cut off. Drink your water.”

  Ellery tried to slide off the barstool but stumbled and fell against Clay. She pushed off him and straightened. “Whatever. I’ll go somewhere else. Where’s my purse?”

  “I don’t think you have one,” Chris said. The new bartender shook up a drink, the ice clattering obnoxiously as he made a martini or something fruity. It was probably for the ladies celebrating at the end of the bar. They’d been laughing, taking selfies, and being all-around happy for the last hour. Ellery hated them.

  “Here,” Clay said, sliding his credit card across the bar. “It’s on me. I’ll get her home.”

  “No, he’s not,” Ellery said, swaying a bit. She grabbed hold of the bar. “You know why? He slept with my mother. My mother. Can you believe that?”

  “Elle, stop,” Clay said, shooting her the look her father usually used when he was tired of her behavior. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  “Really? You’re the one who made a fool out of my mother.”

  Clay’s mouth remained tight. His eyes flashed anger, too. “Stop. You’re making a scene.”

  “Oh, so now you’re worried about what people think? Well, I don’t care. Look at me, Clay,” she said, stepping back and looking down at her sloppy outfit. Her house shoes had kitty-cat whiskers. “Does it look like I care?”

  Clay peered down at her feet. “Are you wearing slippers?”

  “Yep. I got ’
em on. ’Cause they’re comfortable, and I don’t care anymore. You want to know why I’m quitting my life?”

  He sighed. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Because I’m so bad in bed, I drive guys gay.”

  She really didn’t think that was true, but it sounded good. Her self-pity was at least a foot deep, and she found she liked wading around in it. Felt better than trying to make a stupid plan for her life that wouldn’t work anyway or cutting up all Josh’s clothes, which she had actually contemplated. She felt like going all Carrie Underwood with a baseball bat on his stupid car. Except as mad as she was, it wasn’t so much at him. Could he help that he was gay? Nope. She was angry that her life had gone completely off the rails and her stupid plan to keep it all together had been smashed by a sledgehammer of reality. The fact was, she sucked. And her life sucked. So she was done with trying to hold it together. So done.

  Clay looked at her like she was a curious bug that had hopped onto his pants leg. Swat it, or watch and see what it does? “I’m sorry to hear that, Elle, but I’m not totally surprised about Josh.”

  “Yeah? Well, I was. So don’t save the date. Not that we had one, mind you. Because Josh kept saying we didn’t have to be in a hurry.” Her laughter was bitter as aspirin ground between one’s molars. “I guess now we know why. He didn’t want to marry me. He was lying to himself, to me, to everyone.”

  She may have sobbed on that last statement. Or was that a hiccup? “I want Gage. Can you call him?”

  Ellery wasn’t sure why she said that. Gage was too far away. In Deacon Point. Besides, why would he answer the phone when she had failed on every level of getting her shit together? Fix herself? Ha! She was spectacularly broken, lying in throbby little pieces all over the beer-drenched floor of a dive bar. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he felt against her. About how wrong he was for her. About why she needed him there with her.

  He could help her. She knew he could.

  “I don’t know who that is, but I think you should sit down before you fall,” Clay said, patting the stool and giving the people around them staring a look that said Nothing to see here even though there was. Watching a pretty blonde who’d once had everything at her fingertips crash and burn was thrilling for a lot of people. She understood. People took pleasure in some people’s downfalls. Made them feel better about their own lives.