Cupid’s Quest

by Ann, Natalie

So she got what she thought she wanted and now she was even more miserable...if that was possible. By the snot running out of her nose, she knew it was.

  She made a pot of coffee strong enough to wake the dead, reminding her of how Josh drank it, then poured herself a cup and sat down trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do.

  First order of business after her coffee was a shower and some cold compresses to get rid of her red and puffy eyes.

  When she left her bathroom forty minutes later dressed for the day and looking about as good as she could with her makeup on, she picked her phone up and saw she had a missed call.

  She hoped it was Josh, but it was Matt. What could her brother possibly want? She hadn’t talked to him since they left Josh’s house a month ago.

  And why did that bring more tears to her eyes? Because it was Josh again being there for her. Standing up for her. Telling her he wasn’t letting her meet them alone. Protecting her when she never thought she needed it.

  Was everything going to remind her of Josh now? How was that possible in just the short few months they’d been together?

  Because what they shared was stronger than anything she’d ever had before.

  She listened to Matt’s message, which only said to call him, then she debated five minutes and made the call.

  “Matt, it’s Ruby.”

  “Hi. I wasn’t sure if you would call me back.”

  “I wasn’t sure I wanted to,” she said back to him.

  He let out a laugh on the other line. “Can we meet? Maybe for lunch or something? I just want to talk.”

  “I’m not sure we have much to say to each other,” she said.

  “There are things I want to say to you but understand you might not want to hear them.”

  “If you’re going to try to guilt me into helping your father you are wasting your breath.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m not. I want to apologize. I guess there are a lot of things I want to say if you’ll give me the time.”

  “I can meet today for lunch if you want.” She figured if he really wanted to, he’d make the time. Otherwise she might just forget about it.

  “That works. I’ll text you a place in a bit.”

  She hung up and left for work and tried to figure out what she might be setting herself up for now. She started to dial Josh to tell him and then stopped and realized she had no one. Not one person she could talk to about this.

  That freedom she wanted so badly, well, here it was. She was doing it on her own.

  And several hours later when she sat down in the booth in the back of a restaurant where Matt was waiting for her with a shoebox on the table, she wondered what the hell was going on.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Pictures.”

  She held back the snort. “You want to show me pictures of you and your family when you know what my life was like?”

  “No. I’m going to show you pictures of my family. My wife and kids. Your niece and nephew. I can’t change what happened to you. I didn’t even know about you until a few months ago, but I can decide what to do about the future.”

  “You want to have a relationship with me?” she asked.

  “You’re my half-sister. You’re not at fault for what was done to you.”

  “Your father is partially to blame,” she said, getting it out there so he wasn’t thinking this was all going to be unicorns and rainbows.

  “He is. I’m really pissed at him. My mother and sisters are disgusted.”

  “Yet you are here and they want no part of me.” She figured her sisters and their mother were keeping their distance because they wanted to pretend she didn’t exist too.

  “They are pissed at my father. They are embarrassed over the whole thing. When I told them that I’d met you, they were ticked at me. But after the last visit, I sat them down and told them what happened. My mother cried. My sisters left the room.”

  “What for?” she asked.

  “Because as much as you think I’m selfish or an ass, we are all pretty sympathetic to the situation. We know my father’s faults. He was an okay father to us when he got cleaned up, but he wasn’t going to win father of the year.”

  This time she had to snort. “Why is that? Present bastard child excluded.”

  Matt smiled at her. “He was detached. Wanted his own space. Wanted to come and go when he wanted. He got clean when he thought he was going to be left alone, but when he got to keep his family he still kept us at arm’s length most of the time.”

  Did she get that trait from her father? Could it be? And did she want to share it with the man she hated?

  “But you still love him?” she asked.

  “He is my father. He raised us. He put a roof over our head. He showed up at sporting events and had dinner with us most nights. He made appearances when it was needed. When it wasn’t...well, he kept to himself.”

  “And your mother was okay with that?” she asked and wondered why she cared.

  “She had three kids to raise and couldn’t do it on her own. My father was still more help than if she was by herself. At least that’s what my guess is from overhearing so many fights over the years.”

  “Do you still want me to help your father?”

  “No. No one expects you to. I was selfish to ask. I guess I had blinders on and didn’t realize what you’d gone through as a kid. Even when I saw you that first time, I never would have expected it. You have every right to feel the way you do about our father. No one would take that away from you. What I’d like is to get to know my sister if she’ll let me.”

  “Just you?” she asked. “Not Molly or Erica?”

  “I think they will come around. I guess I’m the most levelheaded of the group. One thing I realized in the past month watching my father get weaker was that he’s still content to be alone. He wanted to live so he could live. Not for us. Not for my mother. Not for you. For him. Selfish. That’s him. I don’t want to be that way.”

  “But as you said, you love him and when you love someone you do anything for them.”

  “Not always,” he said. “Love clouds our judgments. It makes us do and say things we don’t mean or want. The true test of love is if that person will be there when you’re ready to admit what a fool you were.”

  “Are you saying you were a fool?” she asked with a grin. “Love doesn’t come into this. We barely know each other.”

  “I have been a fool. My father will never admit it. He doesn’t think he did much wrong. I’m not sure he’d change anything. He knows he’s dying and he is just being a bitter ass to everyone around him. I feel his pain, but we’ve got our own. I guess I’d like to make up for what my father did in a way. If you’ll let me.”

  She thought of how she had no one. No family at all and here was someone in front of her offering her a chance at one.

  “I think it doesn’t hurt to try.”

  And when she left the restaurant she knew there was only one thing left to do. Seek Josh out and tell him what a fool she’d been.

  * * *

  “Ruby,” Josh said, looking up from his desk. “What are you doing here?”

  “I figured if you could drop in on me without warning I could do the same.”

  She was grinning and if she thought he’d return it she had another thing coming. She’d hurt him last night. He wasn’t likely to forget that feeling anytime soon. “I think you said what you wanted to last night.”

  “Can you take a break? Are you done soon? I’d like to talk if we can.”

  “Are you going to talk or look away from me?” he asked. He heard a noise across the room and saw Mick grinning at him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, grabbing his jacket and keys. He didn’t need to put on a show for everyone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when they were walking out the door.

  “For what?”

  “For everything. Can we go to your house and talk? It needs to be said there.”

  He wanted
to say no. He wanted to say he couldn’t bear to have her back there but knew he wouldn’t voice those words.

  She came to him and that had to mean something. He hoped.

  “Fine.”

  They got to his house and went inside. He took his jacket off and hung it on a peg in the mudroom, she did the same, then slipped off her ankle boots. Small routines they’d shared often and it was like a knife to his heart to think of the hominess of it. “Talk.”

  “I was wrong. You were right. I can’t commit. I’m scared.”

  “Scared of what?” he asked. There were tears in her eyes and her forced confidence seemed to be flying right out of the window like a wrapper from a car going ninety down the highway.

  “Being left alone.”

  “You seem to like to be alone,” he threw back at her.

  “Because that is all I’ve ever known. And then I started to get used to you and I liked it. I loved it. And when you did that special night for me on Valentine’s Day and for my birthday, you did everything I always wanted. I got it all in one night.”

  “And it was too much?”

  “Yes and no. I might have still felt that way if it was spread out. I just don’t know,” she said crying now. “When I think I know what I want, then I find out I’m wrong.”

  “And what are you wrong about?”

  “Wanting my freedom. Wanting to be away from you. You never put pressure on me to spend time together. You never said you wanted me home to cook every night.”

  “Of course I didn’t. Or I haven’t. What is going through your head?”

  “This image that I’ve had of a family. Of what I thought I wanted or what it should be like.”

  “A family is what we make of it. Not what you see on TV. Not what your friends have. It’s what works for us,” he said. He’d had no idea she thought that way.

  “I know that now. I just had lunch with Matt. And he wants to get to know me. He’s mad at his father and when he was describing his father as someone who wanted to be alone and do his own thing, someone who wanted to come and go as he pleased and have freedom, I thought of myself. I don’t want to be that way. I don’t want to die alone.”

  She burst into tears even harder and he wanted to pull her in but the other part of him was kind of pissed off. “So this is more about you being alone.”

  “No! It’s about loving you. And wanting to be with you. And about me not being so independent and opening up and letting other people in. Not being so scared that someone is going to leave me and what or how will I be if I’m alone again.”

  “Ruby, you don’t need someone to guide you through life. To tell you what to do. To control you. I wouldn’t be that way with anyone. It’s not who I am. But I want someone who will live their life with me. Help me make decisions. Not someone to cook me dinner at night. Or do my laundry each week.”

  “So you don’t want me to be like your grandmother?” she asked.

  “God no. She does that and she loves it, but not everyone does. I’m a grown man and can wash my own underwear and have been doing it for years.”

  She started to laugh. “I’m such a mess. I don’t even want to know what I look like right now. I cried all night long and now I’m doing it again.”

  “And why is that?” he asked, pulling her into his arms this time. Yeah, they were going to be able to move forward. He felt it. He knew it. This house was meant to have her in it.

  “Because I never cry. And everything I’ve seen or passed by or thought of in the past week has either made me cry or brought tears to my eyes because it reminds me of you. Something we did together or you like, something you’ve said. That’s love and it’s made me into a fool. But this fool doesn’t want to be without you.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “I don’t want to be without you either. But I’m going to let you control your own pace. You can decide the steps you want to take. I won’t push you, I promise.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if you want to be with me, I’m here. If you want to move in here, there’s a place next to my pillow for you. But I’m not going to ask. You can just do it.”

  “So I can pack up my clothes tonight and bring them over?” she asked, laughing.

  “Talk about a fast pace.”

  “I’m not waiting any longer. I found what I was looking for. I found my forever right here.”

  Epilogue

  One year later

  “So you aren’t going to go overboard and separate my birthday and Valentine’s Day again, are you?” she asked him, reminding him of what he’d done one year ago on this night.

  “No. I can’t do that every year. Besides, I think you told me I set the bar really high and it’s hard to beat it.”

  “You always seem to manage it,” she said, thinking of the shelf of stuffed animals she had in their bedroom. He was right when he said he had a theme going and he hadn’t stopped once, oftentimes bringing her bears out of the blue.

  “I don’t know if I can top this one next year, but I’m only focused on this year.”

  They’d been living together in his house in Paradise Place for almost a year now and to Ruby it felt like she was in paradise. The girl in foster care never thought she’d have a house like this in a neighborhood this beautiful with a man that loved her like Josh did.

  “So what do you have planned for me?” she asked, knowing it had to be good. The grin on his face was the biggest she’d ever seen.

  “Come here,” he said, pulling her to the foyer. “When I walked in this door for the first time I felt something. I felt a peace here I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel again. I thought it was the place. I later realized it was you.”

  She’d always thought he had a romantic streak to him, but he didn’t often say words like this and she was starting to wonder if today was going to be what she hoped for.

  “I felt it too. I told myself not to. To not get attached to this place when I was helping you paint it and look for furniture, except I couldn’t stop myself. But I also realized it wasn’t the place but the person.”

  “Well, this person wants to make you his wife,” he said and put a tiny teddy bear in her hand that she hadn’t realized he had hidden behind the plant on a shelf.

  She looked down at the little white bear and saw the ruby and diamond ring on the arm. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

  “No. It has to be a ruby. You know that,” he said.

  “I do,” she said, smiling.

  “And those are the words I can’t wait to say to you and make you mine!”

  The End!

  Book 2 in Paradise Place- Change Up

  Change Up

  Harris Walker jogged out to the mound of Citi Field in the bottom of the ninth. His blood was pumping; the fatigue that should have set in was nowhere to be found.

  He was in a pitcher’s dream right now. What everyone hoped for. What they wanted to achieve and very few would.

  Three more outs and he’d have his no hitter.

  At thirty years old he knew he wouldn’t have too many more years in his pitching career.

  A top prospect at just seventeen, he didn’t really develop until about five years ago. He didn’t get to show what he was made of and many started to write him off.

  But, bam, out of nowhere, two years ago he grabbed control of his fastball, he mastered his changeup, and his curveball seemed to throw everyone off.

  He was the pitcher players didn’t want to face. He signed one hell of a five-year contract to stay with the Mets when plenty were willing to pay him more.

  Why? Because he was born and raised in Upstate New York and he’d been a Mets fan his whole life. Talk about a dream come true.

  They drafted him, they put their faith in him, they gave him what he wanted in his contract. He was staying loyal because that’s who Harris Walker was.

  And now he was going to prove to the owners he was everything they thought he was. He was going to show his pitching
coaches they had every reason to believe in him.

  Ace Reynolds got up to bat for the Atlanta Braves. He was seventh in the lineup and Harris couldn’t have planned this any better.

  First pitch straight down the middle, ninety-eight miles an hour. Ace swung, missed, the crowd went nuts. Harris was like a squirrel going after those nuts himself, but he’d always been in control internally and he wasn’t letting anyone see the excitement he was feeling.

  Second pitch, curveball, a little wide, called ball. One and one.

  Third pitch, fastball down the middle, swing and—shit. Ace connected. Harris watched as the ball sailed into center field, but there was Johnny Reed, racing, diving, and catching it. One out. Two more to go.

  Second batter only took three pitches too, pop fly that the catcher nabbed, and they were down to the last out.

  The Braves put in a pinch hitter. Miller Smith who was on a hot streak. Bastards. They were already down three to one. Come on.

  Harris didn’t care. Well, he did, but he wasn’t showing it.

  He wiped his sweaty hand on his pant leg, he took a deep breath, and then wound up and threw a slider. Way out of the strike zone, but Miller swung, strike one.

  The crowd was in a frenzy. The stadium felt like it was rocking.

  He was going for speed. He wanted to prove he still had it with a hundred and five pitches down tonight.

  Fastball, here it comes.

  Miller connected, line drive, right at Harris, but not close enough for him to dive and catch it. He didn’t need to worry, because the second baseman had his back, plucking it right up over his head and bringing it in.

  His teammates raced him on the mound, everyone slapping him on the back. The tears were rolling down his face and he didn’t give one shit about it.

  He was man enough to cry over throwing the best game of his life.

  And three hours later when he and Johnny and a few others were tossing back shots in a bar in downtown Manhattan, he was living the dream.

  Women were hanging out around them, many rubbing against him...whispering in his ear. Yeah, he could go home with any of them, but he didn’t have plans on it.