by Liz Talley
Daphne’s mouth twitched into a smile. “As a junkyard dog. No, three junkyard dogs combined into a super guard dog. Why did you drop by Tippy’s house?”
Rex ran a finger along the shining marble. “I hadn’t planned to, but I remembered that I told her I would fix that gate. I never did it, and I wondered if someone had. And besides, I hadn’t seen her since she stopped talking to me. I knew I had messed up so much about my life, and my therapist had mentioned that the only way to fix what’s broken is to find out why it got broken in the first place. I really think she wanted me to just blame my parents like everyone else, but you know I couldn’t. Pat and Judy are pretty perfect, as parents go.”
Daphne nodded. Her once-upon-a-time in-laws were kind, considerate, and good spirited. They’d raised successful children and had always been available for babysitting, a cup of coffee, or good advice on buying a used car. “I miss them.”
“You don’t have to.” Rex gave her a little smile. “I’m the one who screwed up, and even though we’re no longer husband and wife, you’re still family.”
Daphne shook her head. “Not really. But thank you for saying that.”
“Anyway, I somehow ended up on Tippy Lou’s porch, her toting that gun and me not knowing why in the hell I had stopped. I guess I needed someone who would tell me the truth. Tippy Lou is good at that.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Funny how she can see things so clearly. I didn’t know people could see me the way she does. It’s like she goes under your skin or something and tells you things you didn’t even know about yourself.”
Daphne made a face that said she totally understood because Tippy did that to her all the time. Of course, Tippy not only held up a mirror to a person, she planted seeds. Sometimes those seeds were needed to root a person or lead a person to harvest something she needed in her life. Tippy Lou was the person who had suggested Daphne go back to school, that she stop paying for Ellery’s highlights, and that she treat her writing and art like it was a serious career and not a hobby.
And, let’s not forget, she’d also suggested that Daphne sleep with Clay.
Wrong seed that time . . . but even as she thought about how Tippy had encouraged her to leave behind societal expectations and expired moral codes, Daphne knew Tippy’s intent was right—she wanted Daphne to claim a life for herself, to not be afraid of being a whole woman and owning her needs and feelings. So even though that seed yielded an unintended consequence, it had a purpose because it had led to this moment.
“Sometimes we need someone to see who we are. We put on a lot of different masks in our lives,” Daphne said, swishing her skirt to prove her point. “We all lie to ourselves, Rex. We all manipulate, avoid, and hide the ugly because who wants to be that honest in life?”
Rex swallowed hard and glanced away. “Who I am is not who I want to be. How is that for a midlife-crisis revelation?”
Daphne looked at the man, who avoided her gaze. She’d never seen him be so honest with himself, and briefly she envisioned Tippy Lou strapping Rex to a Chinese water torture board and forcing him to admit all his flaws.
Too many years too late.
If he’d had the revelation before now, if Rex had been a supporting husband, toting her books as she went to book signings and conferences, would she be happy at this very moment? She wasn’t sure. Thing was, until Rex left her and broke her heart, she hadn’t known that she was truly unhappy. Her life had been an endless cycle of making others’ lives easier while she ignored her own self-fulfillment. She’d been a shadow, living in the dark, content with what little someone she loved tossed her way.
Like a dog who lived inside a small courtyard, she hadn’t known there was a grassy open meadow next door. One did not miss what one did not know existed.
Now she knew, and though that meadow was sometimes scary with its unexplored boundaries, big anthills, and occasional thorns, she loved the freedom she had . . . a freedom she’d never had before.
“You know, Rex, it’s never too late to start over, to find out who you really want to be.”
“I guess you found that out.”
“I’m trying to. I never thought my life would go like this, but that’s the thing about living life. It throws you curveballs and surprises. Sometimes they are good. Sometimes they are not. But you never end up exactly where you thought you would be. Or maybe some people do. I don’t know.”
Rex glanced around the room. “So do you accept my apology? ’Cause Ellery isn’t talking to me right now, and I think if you forgave me, it might go a long way in helping me repair the damage I did with her.”
“I do, and I’m not so sure Ellery is going to care. She’s not talking to me, either.”
Rex jerked his expression to her. “Really? Why? I’m the one who lied.”
Daphne had already admitted to Evan that she’d slept with a younger man, but telling Rex would be ten times more uncomfortable. Still, if Ellery told him, it could be worse. Better he found out from her. Clean slate. Honesty. Living strong and unapologetically. Those were words she’d been tossing around in her mind, professing to want, yet dancing around them to keep the peace. “I slept with Clay.”
Her ex-husband blinked once. Twice. “What?”
Daphne sucked in a deep breath and let it go slowly. “I drank too much wine one night, he came on to me, and we ended up in bed.”
“Our bed?” His words held shock . . . and hurt.
“No, my bed. You left, remember?”
Rex shook his head. “But he used to play badminton in the yard. Clay? Clay Caldwell?”
Daphne spread her hands out on the counter. “Yes, that Clay. I know it seems odd. I do. And Ellery’s upset even though it was a onetime mistake.”
“What in the hell were you thinking, Daphne? He’s a kid. Ellery dated him.”
“You’re not telling me things I don’t know, Rex, but I’m not apologizing to you for trying to get back the part of myself you trampled on when you walked out. You had a therapist telling you to take care of yourself. Did you stop to think what you did to me? You had been my everything, and you walked away from our vows, our future . . . me.”
Rex’s lips drew up. “We’ve been through all this, and I apologized. I can’t go back and fix it. Still, Clay’s so young. I can’t even picture you . . . and him.”
“I don’t want you to. What I am asking you to do is realize that I’m a person who is . . . a person. Not someone who fixes things, takes people’s shit, and feels guilty every time she does something that doesn’t sit right with others. I deserve some happiness, Rex.” As she said those words, something inside her moved and settled into where it belonged. Because for the first time ever, she truly believed those words. They weren’t mere vowels and consonants strung together by someone else, a mere repeated platitude. They were real and true. She deserved to be as happy as anyone else, and if that meant hurting people’s feelings or upsetting them with her choices—good or bad—then she would have to live in that space.
“I do realize you’re a person,” Rex said, but he sounded unconvincing. “I’m just surprised, is all. He’s young, and . . . I guess when I thought about you moving on, I had a different picture in mind of the guy.”
“I’m not moving on with Clay, Rex. But I am moving on. Finally.”
When Rex glanced back at her, she saw the tenderness in his eyes. “Good. I’m glad. I mean, part of me isn’t, because, well, you know. But the other part of me, the one who still knows you are my friend and will always care about me, is very pleased you’re getting a new life for yourself. I do love you, Daphne. I always will. I screwed up our marriage, and maybe it was for the best in the long run. Who knows? But I own the fault in what happened between us.”
“You weren’t the only one who made mistakes, Rex. I chased that dream hard, and sometimes I thought only about what would benefit me. I didn’t acknowledge or try to understand your feelings about my career.”
Rex gave her a wr
y smile. “Yeah, but you didn’t pack up and leave. I did. I messed up and didn’t try to fix it.”
“Water under the bridge now,” she said.
Rex walked toward her and wrapped her in a hug. He set his big head atop hers, and for a moment, the old familiarity of his embrace washed over her. She knew his smell, the feel of his rib cage expanding, the small indention in his back—a result of a bike wreck when he was thirteen.
When Daphne released him, something inside her finally knitted together, and she felt at peace. “So come see the house. You’re going to love the bathroom and wish we had done this when we were still married. It’s got that rain-shower thing you always wanted.”
“Sure, and when we’re done, I have a few things for you to look over and give me some advice on,” Rex said, dropping his hands and starting for the living room.
“Rex,” Daphne said, trying to stamp down the irritation unfurling inside her. “If this is about Pinnacle or your finances, I’m not open to discussion. That’s no longer my role, and if that’s why you truly came by, you can turn right around and walk out that door.”
He studied her for a few minutes, his shoulders sinking. “You know, it’s not the reason I stopped by, but I can’t deny that I respect your opinion and want your advice. But I get it. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Daphne paused and looked back at him. “Good. You’re learning.”
Rex’s lips twitched. “Guess it took me long enough.”
“Or maybe it took me long enough,” Daphne said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ellery woke to speckled sunlight dancing across her face. “Ugh.”
She didn’t want to open her eyes, because a thousand tiny hammers were tapping against the inside of her skull. Instead she attempted to roll over, away from the darts of light that were trying to kill her, but that made her stomach lurch. She stilled, eyes closed, and prayed that she was in fact in her own bed.
“Ellery?”
She cracked open one eye. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Far from it. Who is that . . . Gage?”
He appeared in front of her, looking concerned and not at all hungover. “Yes, Gage.”
Even though she was certain she was in fact in her own bed and could possibly be suffering from alcohol poisoning, her heart leaped against her chest. Gage was standing, looking right as rain, in her bedroom. “What are you doing here? How did . . . who brought me home?”
“I think you said an Uber.”
She squinted as if she could see back in time. She vaguely recalled the tequila shots, Clay Caldwell, and no purse. Something landed on her bed and brushed against her. Ellery screamed and shot upright, swatting at whatever it was. “Oh my God!”
“Relax,” Gage said, catching her arm and preventing her from falling out of the bed . . . which would have been totally embarrassing considering she was wearing—she looked down at herself—an old high school T-shirt and a pair of ragged gym shorts that she did not remember putting on.
“What was that thing?” she cried as the blur of fur bolted underneath her bed.
“It’s your cat, Elmo,” Gage said.
“Cat?” Ellery was now sitting up in her bed, her sheet tangled around her legs. “I don’t have a cat.”
Gage ran a hand through his hair. “Well, you had one last night. I could have sworn you said his name was Elmo.”
“That was the name of the bar I went to. I don’t know where that cat came from.”
Gage bit down on his gorgeous lip as if trying not to laugh. “I mean, I thought he looked a bit thin and ragged, but he was friendly and seemed to know his way around. He slept at the end of your bed all night.”
Ellery pulled the sheet up to her chin. “How did I get into these clothes and . . . did I take a shower? I think I remember washing my hair.” She picked up a sticky chunk of hair stuck to her shoulder. It was obvious her hair had been shampooed but not rinsed.
“You passed out in the shower.” Gage bent and looked under her bed. “Here, kitty.”
The cat yowled.
“I passed out in the shower,” Ellery repeated, her voice rising with each syllable. “Naked?”
“That’s usually how one takes a shower,” he said, lifting his head and looking at her.
Ellery was certain her entire body was the color of ripe raspberries. Gage had seen her naked. Naked, drunk, and . . . oh God, she’d vomited in the downstairs bathroom. “Oh my God.”
Gage sat back and looked at her. “Hey, it’s cool.”
“It. Is. Not. Cool.” She covered her face with her hands. The sheet fell, revealing the tight T-shirt that accentuated the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra, but did that really matter? The man had pulled her passed out from the shower and dressed her for bed.
“Elle, it’s okay. I couldn’t leave you in there, and you insisted that you never slept in the nude, so I tried to help you put those clothes on. I mostly kept my eyes closed.”
She dropped her hands and made a face. “You did not.”
He grinned, and it was so adorable coming from such a grumpy, stick-in-the-mud guy that she couldn’t be as angry as she wanted. Hell, she couldn’t be angry at all. She’d drunk enough tequila to be a spokesperson for Jose Cuervo, vomited in the azaleas, and passed out in the shower. If anyone should be angry, it was the man she’d obviously drunk texted.
“Okay, I may have peeked, but in my defense, I’ve been wondering how you’d look naked for weeks now. I’m no saint.”
He’d wondered how she’d look without clothes for weeks? So she wasn’t the only one fantasizing about someone she shouldn’t. Or maybe he hadn’t set stupid rules for himself. Maybe he’d given himself permission to imagine every square inch of her body. That thought made her stomach warm . . . or perhaps that was the nausea making a reappearance. “I’m so sorry about this. I don’t even know what to say.”
“It’s okay.”
“Why did you come?” she asked, suddenly desperate for water. Her voice sounded thick and cottony.
Gage reached over to the bedside table and handed her a chilled glass of water. He’d even placed it on one of the stone coasters from downstairs. “Here. You need to rehydrate.”
Ellery greedily gulped the water. It was cool heaven sliding down her throat. “Thank you.”
“I came because you said that you wanted me. Only me. And that it was an emergency.”
Ellery’s eyes widened. “I said what?”
Gage pulled his phone from his back pocket. He wore faded pale jeans that molded to his body, black motorcycle boots, and a tight Kinks concert T-shirt. “Please come get me, Gage. It’s an emergency. I need you. Only you. This is Ellery, BTW.” He waggled the phone.
“I was drunk.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I kinda figured that out.”
“But you came anyway.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I don’t know why I did that. Why I asked you to come and scared you that way. I felt so alone . . . and . . . I think . . . ugh.”
Gage watched her as she grappled with the situation. The strange cat crept out and leaped onto the bed. Ellery turned to look at the ugly beast. He was rangy, mottled, and ugly as sin, but he purred sweet, and his green eyes fastened on hers with something eager in their depths.
Love me.
The cat bumped her knee, then ducked his head under her elbow. She was almost certain he was covered in fleas, but she still gave him a pat anyway.
Gage sank onto her bed. “You know, I think the best thing to do in moments like these is have something to eat.”
Ellery gave him a small smile. “That sounds better than me waffling around in embarrassment, trying to figure out . . . my entire life.”
“Mmm . . . waffles. Those sound good. Let’s have that.” He petted the purring cat. “This cat has fleas.”
“I know.”
“I’ll put the cat out, and you get dressed.”
“No,” Ellery said, sliding from the bed.
She crossed her arms in front of her breasts, even though she knew Gage had already seen her in her glory. Or rather not in her glory at all. Ugh, she’d probably looked sweaty and close to death. “I mean, I’d like to give him some tuna or something. He looks hungry.”
Gage lifted an eyebrow. “I knew underneath all that glitter and bluster beat the heart of a softie. I’ll find him something.” With that, he scooped up the agreeable tomcat and shut her door. Ellery eased back onto the mattress and grabbed the cell phone Gage had placed on her bedside table, trying to ignore the thump, thump of her head. A quick glance showed she had a few Snapchats and a text from her mom with a cut-and-dried directive about procuring the date at Evan’s daughter’s school. Evan. Gage’s uncle. Gage.
He’d driven an hour and a half to come to her.
What did that mean? Something? Nothing? She wasn’t sure. What she was sure about was she needed to get the heck up and wash the sticky shampoo from her hair . . . then she could try to salvage her image with sexy bartender guy.
Fifteen minutes later, with the stray cat fed and put on the patio, Ellery sipped ice-cold water at a Waffle House. Gage sat across, nursing black coffee and studying her.
“You’re not going to puke, are you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.” Though she wasn’t sure. Her stomach had rolled during the motorcycle ride to the restaurant. Of course that could have been because she was wrapped around Gage, the wind ripping at her still-wet ponytail, as she prayed not to die or vomit on Gage’s back.
“Food will help.”
At that moment the waitress slapped down a plate with eggs, bacon, and grits followed by another plate containing a waffle. Gage had the same, except he’d gone for hash browns instead of grits. “Here you are. Get you anything else?”
Ellery shook her head before picking up her fork and diving in. She ate half her plate before she looked back up at Gage. “I feel better.”
“Nothing like Waffle House after a night of drinking.”
Ellery had never been to a Waffle House before. Josh wouldn’t be caught dead here. He preferred an overpriced, trendy brunch spot over on Line Avenue that featured remoulade and hollandaise sauces, but the basic food here was pretty good, and the cheerful banter between guys in work boots driving big, white trucks and the sassy waitresses made her smile. Clattering dishes, cooks yelling “Order up,” and the friendly sunshine streaming through the glass window front were comforting. “I’ll try to remember that. Or perhaps I should try to not do what I did last night ever again.”