My First My Last My Only

by Denise Carbo

  “No, but you have to admit the date was not going well even before I rescued you.”

  “Rescued me? The date was going just fine until you and my sister showed up. It all went downhill from there.”

  “Oh, come on, admit it, the guy barely said two words throughout dinner despite Lucinda’s valiant efforts. You needed us there to save you.”

  Wow, he really thinks I am so completely inept that I can’t handle the date on my own. I tug my hand free and lean forward to set the tea on the coffee table.

  “Bobby had plenty to say before you arrived. I actually thought it was going well.” Yes, I’m a klutz and I made a mess, and I have a tough time thinking of things to say sometimes, but does he really believe I’m such a disaster?

  “You need more lessons before you’re ready to accept any dates.” He sets his cup down next to mine.

  He wants to give me more lessons? I don’t know whether to smile or cry. On one hand, he thinks I am such a loser I could never get Bobby on my own. On the other hand, more lessons mean more time with him.

  Scooping me up in his arms, he deposits me on his lap.

  I gasp and latch onto his shoulders to balance myself. My legs dangle over the side of his thighs. “What are you doing?”

  “Lessons, remember?”

  What kind of lessons require me on his lap?

  Not that I’m complaining.

  One of his hands rests on my bare thigh under the edge of the borrowed shorts, and the other is wrapped around my back. His lids lower and he leans forward to touch his lips to mine.

  There is no slow build up or teasing this time. His tongue immediately seeks an entry I eagerly grant. The taste of mint and lemon fill my mouth.

  His hand raises the T-shirt at my back and slides against my bare skin. His palm scorches a path up my back under the shirt.

  Mitch’s lips leave mine to feather kisses along my jaw and neck. My hands cup the back of his head holding him to me.

  He grasps my hip and back and lays me onto the couch and settles over me.

  Our gazes lock for an instant. He places a series of drugging kisses on my lips. My eyes drift closed.

  My heart pounds in my ears as my body melts beneath the hardness of his.

  I’m enveloped by the warmth of his body stretching the length of my own. His knees dig into the couch against my legs enclosing me in his heat. I slip my arms underneath his and clutch his back, praying the pleasure won’t end.

  His tongue strokes and curls around mine. He caresses my neck and shoulder, weaving a path of fire every place he touches.

  A vibration against my leg startles and confuses me until Mitch jerks out of my arms and grabs his phone from his pants’ pocket. He glances the face of the phone and stands, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “It’s your sister.”

  He answers the phone and paces over towards the cabinet holding the television.

  I scramble to a sitting position and wrap my arms around my drawn knees. Lucinda calls and he drops everything, drops me, to answer.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “You left your purse on the back of the chair at the restaurant. Your sister didn’t want you to worry. She has it.” Mitch paces in front of the television rubbing the back of his neck.

  All I can manage is a nod, not really caring if he sees my response or not. What am I doing here? Spinning romantic fantasies around a man who is way out of my league and has me firmly planted in the friend zone despite the hot and heavy kissing of a moment ago? How could he be so unaffected? A man who is getting involved with my sister.

  “Hang tight while I go grab my truck and give you a lift home.”

  He disappears out the door and jogs down the steps. I gaze at the door and briefly consider making a run for it, but that smacks of cowardice and goes against the new leaf I’m supposed to be turning over.

  I will not be able to avoid Mitch or Lucinda, so I better get used to it. That doesn’t mean I wish to watch them fall in love, but I don’t want to lose his friendship either.

  Standing on wobbly knees, I grab my dress from the table and clutch it to my chest. My lips tremble as I battle back the tears threatening to fall.

  By the time Mitch arrives in front of the bakery, I am waiting in the alleyway between The Sweet Spot and Ski’s and Things, the sporting goods store next door.

  The ride home to my parents’ house is done in silence. I sense his gaze on me several times, but I keep my head pointed away and look out the passenger window not really seeing a thing.

  I don’t know what to say.

  The ride is blessedly short, and he enters the driveway and parks.

  “We need to talk.”

  My hand freezes on the door handle and a ball of acid churns in my stomach. I can guess the topic of the conversation will be something along the lines of tonight went too far and he doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea. Operation fake girlfriend is over.

  I wholeheartedly agree, but I’m not ready for that discussion. I need a little distance first.

  “Sure, mind if we postpone it until tomorrow? I’ve got a pounding headache.” Opening the door, I jump to the ground before the automatic running board even has a chance to lower and shut the door.

  A lie, but it sounds better than saying my insides feel like they’re turning inside out.

  The headlights are blinding as I trudge in front of his truck. There’s a whirring sound as he lowers his window.

  “Franny?”

  Swallowing the persistent lump in my throat, I angle my head slightly in his direction as I pause at the beginning of the walk.

  Please, please don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t say it was a mistake. Don’t say you don’t want to hurt me, and you value our friendship. Don’t say all the things I know you want to say.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

  “Goodnight,” I whisper.

  I clutch my dress against my chest while I shove open the front door and peek around the entryway. The last thing I need right now is to run into one of my family members.

  Thankfully, the house is quiet with no one in sight. I tiptoe up the stairs and along the hall to my room, breathing a sigh of relief as I slip into my room.

  It gets stuck in my throat.

  Lucinda is sitting on my bed.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  Judgment time. “Why would you think that?” Evade until I can come up with a reasonable explanation.

  My purse is sitting on the bed next to her. I pick it up and find my phone tucked inside. “Thanks for bringing this home for me.”

  She nods and continues to watch me. “What’s going on Franny? Every time I try to talk to you, you make an excuse and disappear.”

  I sit next to her on the bed and grip the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want your apology. I want to know why?”

  “Because I’m a coward.” My emotions are raw and my control dances on a razor’s edge. Tears fill my eyes and I clamp down on my bottom lip.

  “Bullshit.”

  Frowning, I glance at her. That wasn’t exactly easy to admit, and I didn’t expect her to dismiss it, or swear. My mother frowns on swearing and Lucinda being the perfect daughter, never swears. At least not to my knowledge.

  “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

  My mouth drops open and I’m gaping at her like a fish, but what the hell is she talking about? No one has ever described me as brave.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You take chances. You rebel.” She throws her hands up in the air. “You make your own choices despite what others think you should do. You didn’t follow someone else’s plan. You made your own.”

  Lucinda falls back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling blinking rapidly. I lay down next to her and stare up too. Never would I have imagined someone describing me that way, especially not my sister.

  I suppose, where my bakery is concerned, I did do those things.
It’s in the rest of my life I’m a coward.

  Resting my hands on my stomach, I gaze at her profile. “Did you follow someone else’s plan?”

  “That’s all I ever do. Mom and Dad’s plan. Mark’s plan.”

  The perfection I viewed my sister’s life as is crumbling faster than the cinnamon muffins I make. “What happened with Mark?”

  “He’s been cheating. He’s done it before and sworn he’d never do it again, but now he wants it in the open. Stay married and have his affairs too.”

  Holy Crap! “What a dirtbag!”

  A snort of laughter escapes her, and she rolls to her side facing me. The bed squeaks and the mattress dips. “Yeah, he is that.”

  “I’m sorry.” I turn on my side and prop my head in my hand resting on my elbow. “What are you going to do?”

  “With my life? Not a clue. With him? I filed for divorce before I left.”

  “Do Mom and Dad know?”

  “Not all the details, just that he cheated, and the marriage is over.” She rubs one of the decorative buttons on my comforter. “They don’t know I quit my job either.”

  She peeks up at my face and I quickly try to pop my eyes back into their sockets and smooth my expression.

  “Why did you quit? Didn’t Mom say you were on the fast track to partner?”

  She covers her face with her hands and drops onto her back. “I know. Mom and Dad will say I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.”

  “Listen Luce, stop worrying what they think, and perhaps if you explain to your boss you were in a bad place when you quit, they’ll take you back.”

  She peeks at me through her fingers.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’ve never called me Luce before.”

  “Oh sorry.”

  “No, I like it. No one has ever called me by a nickname before. I always envied you being called Franny instead of Francine all the time.”

  It’s a day of discovery.

  “Well Luce, if I had known, I would have called you that a long time ago.”

  Smiling, she looks back up at the ceiling after dropping her arms to her sides.

  “Any other revelations you’d care to share? We seem to be on a roll.”

  “Just one. I don’t want my job back. I hated every minute of it.”

  “Well, okay then, what do you want to do?”

  “Not a clue.”

  I roll onto to my back and drum my fingers on my abdomen. “So, you don’t want to be a lawyer anymore?”

  “Mom and Dad are going to completely freak, aren’t they?”

  “Mom, yes. Dad, probably not. He’ll go play a round of golf and wait for Mom to finish her tirade.”

  “Will you be there when I tell them?”

  “Of course.”

  She takes one of my hands in hers and rests them between us on the bed. I give her hand a squeeze.

  The comforter rustles when she twists her head toward mine. “So, what’s going on between you and Mitch?”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “If you get any more rigid, you could pass for a corpse.”

  Forcing my body to relax and take a deep breath, I scramble for a coherent sentence to answer her, but nothing comes to mind. Why is she asking? Does she have an interest in him and is worried about our relationship? I let go of her hand and rub my roiling stomach.

  “Wow, I don’t know if your silence or body is more telling.” She props her head on her palm, digging her elbow into the bed, and stares at me. “Spill it, Franny.”

  I give her a sideways glare and continue to stare at the ceiling. “Why are you asking?”

  “Because you’re my sister and I care about you.”

  “Care, as in you think I will get hurt? Because he couldn’t possibly be interested in me? Or because you’re attracted to him?”

  The silence lengthens and the twelve-inch gap between us feels more like a mile.

  So much for the sisterly comradery of a few moments ago. Tears prick behind my eyes and I stare fixedly at a popped nail or screw pushing the sheetrock out in the ceiling forming a tiny circle.

  Grasping my chin, she turns my head toward her. “Francine Dawson you are a beautiful, courageous, smart, wonderful, woman and any guy would be lucky to have your interest.”

  Her scowl pinches her eyebrows together and wrinkles her forehead. “You keep making that face and you will get premature wrinkles.”

  She rolls her eyes and lets go of my chin. “You sound like Mother.”

  The cringe is followed by a shiver of dread. “Please don’t say that.”

  “You know people say it’s inevitable that daughters end up turning into their mothers, right?”

  “That will not happen. Not to me at least. You, I’m not so sure about. You already resemble her and have the perfection aura that surrounds you.”

  “I’m not perfect by any means. I’ve told you the mess my life is in.”

  “It doesn’t make you any less perfect, it probably makes you more so because you were married to such a scum bag and stayed at a job you hated. How did you do it? I wouldn’t have had the strength.”

  “It wasn’t strength, it was weakness. I was afraid to leave. You’re the strong one because you would never have stuck around.”

  Rolling over onto my stomach I rest my cheek on my folded hands. “You’re not weak, Luce.”

  “How about we make a pact? You’ll tell me I’m strong when I’m feeling weak, and I’ll remind you how wonderful you are when you’re starting to doubt yourself, deal?”

  She holds out her hand for me to shake and I grasp it with my own. “Deal.”

  “Good. So now will you tell me what’s going on with you and Mitch?”

  “What makes you think anything is going on? You were the one on a date with him.”

  “It wasn’t a date and you were the one he left with.”

  “What do you mean it wasn’t a date?”

  “He showed up here looking for you after you had already left with Bobby. When I said as much, he asked me if I was hungry.” She shrugged. “I was bored more than anything, so I went along with him. I’m not sure how he knew you were at the inn, but I don’t think it was a coincidence we ended up eating there.”

  Mitch was looking for me? Why? Because he was jealous, or because he was worried I’d screw up my date with Bobby and he wanted to be there as a friend to rescue me?

  Studying her expression, I ask, “So you’re not interested in him?”

  “Of course not! I just filed for divorce. The last thing I’m thinking about is getting involved with anyone. Although he is quite handsome and charming. He had Mom and Dad completely dazzled the other night at the club. He did it all so effortlessly too. You should have been there.”

  “I wasn’t invited. You must realize Mom has decided the two of you are perfect together. She’s practically planning your wedding.”

  “Mom can be overzealous but I promise you there is nothing going on between Mitch and me. Nor will there be.”

  “Okay, so you’re not interested in him. It doesn’t mean he isn’t interested in you.”

  “Trust me, I know when a guy is interested, and he has shown zero signs. I get the distinct friend vibe from him.”

  “What were you two doing in the park together?”

  “We weren’t together. At least not at first and not for long. I was feeling sorry for myself and went for a stroll in the park and ended up sitting on the bench sniffling. I heard giggling and I twisted around to see Mitch surrounded by a group of teenage girls. He posed for a dozen or so selfies with them before spotting me on the bench and excusing himself from the bunch to come over to me. He could tell I was upset and sweetly asked if there was anything he could do. When I said no, he told me he’d never been married, but he’s been through breakups before and even if they’re ending for all the right reasons, it’s still an ending and it’s okay to mourn the loss.”

  She sighs. “He was incredibly sweet and kind. Then he
made me laugh telling me a story about the time an obsessed fan followed him into the men’s room.”

  I just fell head over heels in love with Mitch.

  It hurts, it’s a real physical ache, but it’s also a yearning and hope that burgeons inside me.

  The fear and heartbreak that Mitch and Lucinda are falling in love is gone.

  “Hello? I’m still waiting for the details. You two have obviously been spending time together and unless I’m wrong, you are interested in him, right?”

  Grabbing my pillow and burying my face in it, I groan.

  I roll over with a sigh and fluff the pillow under my head. “He was my first kiss and I’ve never gotten over him.”

  “Wait a minute, how was he your first kiss? I realize you haven’t dated all that much, but you have dated.”

  “It happened when I was thirteen and he was fourteen.”

  “You’ve known Mitch that long? How come I didn’t know that? Where did you two meet?”

  “We met on the beach. His parents had rented a place on the lake for the summer. I was on the town beach shaping a lump of clay I had painstakingly scooped up from the bottom edges of the rock that protruded from the water approximately ten feet from shore. Gritty sand and gray clay covered my pink and white striped swimsuit. A shadow appeared over my shoulder asking me, ‘Whatcha doing?’ He squatted to inspect my creation and after stumbling over the first few words as I stared at the dark-haired boy, I hesitantly explained the process of digging out the clay, shaping it, letting it dry in the sun. We spent the rest of the summer together playing on the beach and exploring the town. Mitch and I were together almost every day. He came back the next two years. I lived for summer. Then he left, after giving me my first kiss, and I never heard from him again.”

  “How did I not know this? Do Mom and Dad? Does anyone in town? I would think they would have put up a sign: Vacation spot of Mitch Atwater, or something.”

  I chuckle. “Mrs. Roberts is the only one I’m aware of who does, I don’t think anyone else in town knows or remembers.”

  “Wait a minute, he’s the scrawny boy you were always disappearing with!” Frowning, she got the pinched look again. “You were just a kid, what was he doing kissing you?”