I wonder what he’s called about, what he wants to ask. But Zach asks nothing. He just talks. Tells me about the new temp and how Ben nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw her. How his charity house is coming. He then asks about my mom, my work, what I’m doing. Like he’s interested.
We talk, we laugh. I stretch out my legs under the table in the empty lunchroom and give myself over to conversation. I haven’t done that, especially not with a guy, in a long time. Well, with a guy, never.
My lunch comes to an end and I regretfully say good-bye. We don’t make any plans to see each other again. Or to talk again.
But it doesn’t matter. With Zach I feel like I don’t have to be desperate. I don’t have to have a plan, a schedule, reassurance that I’ll see him. I know I will. What we have is just …
I give up trying to explain it to myself and return to my sterile cubicle. But the call has changed my attitude. The stress of trying to figure out how to sell a plastic thing that holds another plastic thing, to a business that makes bigger plastic things, lifts. It’s fun, like it used to be.
I stay my extra ten minutes after work to make Mr. Beale happy, and twenty minutes after that—I’m so absorbed in my projects.
Then I go home to my empty apartment and fill it with thoughts of Zach.
Am I heading for a crash? Heartache that will be worse than my bored loneliness?
I don’t know, and for this moment, I don’t care. Zach doesn’t call tonight though I leave the phone next to me wherever I am. Still, I don’t care. This afterglow is going to last a long, long time.
* * *
Zach
Austin says I’m stalking her, but I can’t help it. I call Abby at least once every day. I don’t give a shit what we talk about—I just want to hear her voice.
I stop calling her during lunch because I figure she’ll want to eat her lunch. I wait until she’s home, in casual shorts and tank top, relaxing with a glass of wine, and then I call. I know that’s where she’ll be, because I’ve asked her to tell me what she likes to do after work, how she unwinds, what she’s wearing ...
Okay, maybe I am stalking her.
I start texting her after I think this, warning her I’ll call, so she has the chance not to answer.
She always texts back saying she’s looking forward to it.
We don’t make any plans. No dates or hook-ups. I don’t know what we’re doing, but we keep doing it. One day I’m going to drive over and show up at her door. She can slam it in my face or invite me in for talking or … whatever happens.
I’ve never had a relationship that I played by ear. Always there was Where is this going? Are we exclusive? No, Zach, I can’t go out for drinks right now, because I’m in bed with another guy.
That last one could only happen to me.
For some reason I don’t worry Abby will be with another guy when I call. I should be worried—she’s attractive, funny, and has her own life. Guys ought to be beating down her door.
Austin thinks my sort-of relationship with Abby is highly amusing. At the family dinner on Sunday, Mom asks why Abby hasn’t come with me. I scan the table, taking in my two brothers and my parents and their interested faces, and shake my head. Because they’d grill her, that’s why. And assume she’s staying in my life forever.
“Didn’t you used to go with her before?” Ben asks. “In high school?”
“Junior high,” Austin answers with glee. “He was in love. He’d sing dopey songs into his hairbrush.”
“I was thirteen,” I say with heat. “Doesn’t explain why you still do it.”
Ben busts up laughing. Austin gives him the eye, and I know he’s going to start teasing Ben about Erin. Ben can barely talk to the woman, though he’s been at her desk every day, explaining the software and fixing little things that go wrong. We’ve never had so many glitches.
“I talked to Brooke day after the wedding,” I slide in, pretending I’m going for neutral conversation. “She’s doing good.”
Austin gives me a that’s-below-the-belt scowl.
“I like Brooke,” Mom says, taking another helping of roasted potatoes. “I remember her when she was younger—I always said she’d do well. She manages an auto business, did you know that?”
Abby has mentioned it. Brooke sells luxury cars—she’d originally been hired to attract men to buy cars they didn’t need, but she’d turned that around and been so good at the business she’d become manager in no time at all. Now she’s talking about buying the business when its owner retires.
Austin retreats, suddenly absorbed in his food. Ben shoots me a look of gratitude.
Talk turns to Ryan and Calandra. They’ll be home next week.
“We’ll have a big dinner to celebrate,” Mom says. “Zach, why don’t you invite Abby?”
I choke on the bite of steak I’ve shoved into my mouth. I cough, drink water. “I’m not sure she’ll be interested,” I manage.
“Why not? Calandra’s her best friend. We can welcome her into the family.” Mom doesn’t specify whether she means Calandra or Abby, and I don’t ask.
Austin doesn’t either, because he’s sitting there terrified Mom will suggest we invite Brooke too.
“And Erin, if she has time,” Mom goes on relentlessly. “She’s a nice girl, don’t you think? I would like to hire her permanently, but I’m not sure she’d accept. Did you all know she’s a dancer?”
Ben hasn’t mentioned this. He says nothing and takes a careful sip of iced tea.
“A dancer?” I prompt.
“With the West Valley Ballet. They’re not big but very, very good, from what I hear. Hard to get into. When I interviewed her, Erin explained she couldn’t work anything but very set hours, because she has to rehearse and do performances. I said that would be all right.”
Mom sends the rest of us a stern gaze, which means no one had better object. Ben returns to his food, not looking at anyone. Poor guy.
Dad, who long ago decided to sit back and let Mom talk, watches her in his quiet way, a smile on his face. He never says a lot, but when he does speak, we all sit up and listen.
“It’ll be good to have Ryan home,” he says.
He doesn’t mean that to be detrimental to the rest of his sons. We agree. It will be great to see Ryan again.
“Then it’s settled,” Mom says. “I’ll invite Erin, if she’s free, and Zach will call Abby.”
She reaches over and squeezes Dad’s hand, everything all right in her world. Dad gives her a fond look. Everything’s right in his world too.
* * *
Abby
It’s the worst Friday of my life. I’ve been given three extra projects this week, because someone on my team quit. Mr. Beale seems to think it’s my fault she quit—and it is, actually. She was so miserable, I encouraged her to find another job, and she did.
The result—I have to take over all her projects. To be done by next Monday. No way. I know I’ll be coming in Saturday to finish.
Sunday, I’m supposed to drive to Zach’s parents’ house for a welcome-home party for Calandra and Ryan. Zach asked me hesitantly, as if the last thing I’d want to do on a Sunday afternoon was spend time with him and his family.
I accepted without question.
Now I fear I’ll have to cancel. If I don’t get these presentations done before Monday morning, we’ll lose the accounts, and it will be on me.
At five-thirty, when I’m supposed to be heading out, Mr. Beale decides to jump on my ass.
“I want that done before you leave today, Warren.”
The projects will take me many hours—I know this from experience.
“I plan to come in over the weekend, Mr. Beale, plus work on the projects at home too. Everything will be done by Monday.”
“No—I want them on my desk tonight.” He glowers at me, towering over my cubicle wall.
Mr. Beale never, ever approaches me closer than six feet, never touches me, never does anything to break any rule about hara
ssment. Never curses, or says a wrong word that could be construed as belittling me because of my gender. He treats us all like faceless robots.
But he finds his own ways, totally within the rules, to be intimidating.
“I can only work so fast.” I try to keep the rage out of my voice.
“You find plenty of time to talk to your friends. Tonight, before you walk out. Or don’t come in on Monday.”
“Mr. Beale …”
“Fine.” He takes two steps back. “But I expect to see you in here all day tomorrow and all day Sunday.”
“Like I said.” I can’t be bothered to be polite. Since I’m a salaried employee, this means no overtime. I draw the same pay whether I work forty hours or eighty.
“Good.” He turns and stalks off.
I refuse to burst into tears, but I want to.
I reach for the phone to call Zach and explain why I can’t be at the party. If I do it quickly, it will hurt less.
The phone rings before I touch it. The readout shows it isn’t Zach.
I snatch up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey there,” Brent Savidge says. “Bad time?”
“Wonderful time. How are you?”
“I’m great, but you’re about to be better. How’d you like a forty-thousand dollar a year raise? And your own office with a great view?”
“I would love it.” I want to cry again, but in relief. I haven’t heard from Brent since our dinner, and I’d assumed I hadn’t landed the job. “You don’t know how much.”
“Awesome. I’ll be in Phoenix Monday, and we can talk. That okay with you?”
“Perfect.” I wouldn’t be at this job Monday, so I’d have all day. Mr. Beale—I quit! That was going to feel good to say.
“Looking forward to it. Oh, and Abby …”
I listen to what Brent tells me, not sure I’m hearing right. Three weeks ago, his words wouldn’t have mattered, and I’d be dancing on the moon. Today …
Today, I don’t know what to do.
Chapter Ten
Zach
Ryan and Calandra return to town Friday afternoon, arriving at the office for their grand entrance before heading to their own place.
No clients are there, so we congregate in the open showroom. Mom hugs Ryan then Calandra, then Ryan again, tears on her face.
“Good to see you, bro.” I give Ryan a hard hug, crushing him. I’ve missed my big brother, always there with advice. I should talk to him, but I don’t want to monopolize his time while he’s busy being adored.
Ben hugs Ryan with much back-pounding, then Austin comes in for his. We all get to hug Calandra too—she’s our sis now. Erin hangs back, as she’s not part of the family, trying to give us our space. Mom, however, introduces her, and both Calandra and Ryan greet her with enthusiasm.
It’s a while before Ryan can wander into the break room by himself. Austin and I are in there grabbing coffee, and I pour Ryan a cup.
“Glad to be back?” I ask him.
Ryan snorts as he lifts his coffee. “Back to work instead of days of blissful ease in the wilderness with my lady? Sure.”
I toast him with my cup. “I hear you. So what did you guys do?”
“They had sex.” Austin leans on the counter, coffee in hand, grinning. “What do you think?”
Ryan flushes, but he doesn’t deny it or look ashamed.
“I meant in between the sex,” I clarify.
“It was beautiful. We hiked through slot canyons and fields yellow with wildflowers, found an old railroad bridge and ancient pueblo ruins. It was cool.”
Ryan loved that kind of thing—hiking over Arizona and discovering out-of-the-way bits of it. History and wild land. Now he had someone special to share those adventures with.
“What’s been going on here?” Ryan asks. “Besides the usual.”
“Zach’s sleeping with Abby Warren,” Austin answers promptly.
I take a swing at Austin, but he’s adept at avoiding me.
Ryan’s brows climb. “Yeah? She’s Calandra’s best friend. Don’t let me hear that blowback when you break her heart.”
I frown at him. “Why are you so sure she’ll be the one with the broken heart?”
“I know you, Zach. You aren’t easily satisfied. A woman wants a commitment, and you don’t commit.”
“It’s mutual drifting,” I say in my defense. “Or the lady decides she prefers someone else.” Ryan nods in sympathy, knowing what I’d gone through. “Besides, who are you to talk about running from commitment?”
“Okay, so I learned my lesson.” Ryan’s contented smile tells us he’s plenty reconciled to being married to Calandra. All the sex under the stars probably hadn’t hurt. “But if you’re not sure about Abby, break it cleanly and stay friends, so my wife doesn’t jump all over my case about it.”
The proud shine in his eyes when he says the words my wife have me and Austin busting up laughing. We have to hold on to each other, we’re laughing so hard.
Ryan tells us we’re assholes and walks out. But making fun of our oldest brother is why we get up in the morning.
I’m glad he’s back, so we can keep doing it.
* * *
Abby
When I pull into the driveway of the McLaughlin house off Central and Glendale, I gape, overwhelmed.
It’s an older property with a wide spread of land and towering old-growth trees. I live in a part of the city that was developed in the late 90s, the houses and apartments exactly the same, the landscaping sparse. This is Phoenix of a hundred years ago, when people sought shade and built houses with deep porches, in quest of coolness whenever they could find it. It’s an abode from the time before air conditioning and insulation changed the face of the city.
The house sprawls across the grounds in Spanish Mission revival style, which means lots of arches, stucco, and tile. It rises two stories, the second floor peeping out here and there instead of in one block. Bougainvillea, blooming in a riot of fuchsia, salmon, and scarlet, crawls up the walls in the sunny areas, and dark green citrus trees stand in a regimented line in one corner.
The drive is paved with brick and holds many cars and SUVs. A big welcome-home party. I see Zach’s pickup, and my heart sinks.
It took me a long time to decide to come. I debated about staying the hell home and preparing myself for a new life, but in the end, I knew I had to face Zach. I owe him that. Plus, Calandra would never let me hear the end of it when she found out.
I pick up the basket of wine and goodies I’ve brought for the returning couple, straighten my sleeveless dress, and leave the car. Zach mentioned that the pool would be ready for swimming, but I feel vulnerable enough without people staring at me in a bathing suit.
Noise leads me through a side gate to the backyard, which is humongous. More bricks pave the way to the pool, which shimmers in cool blue invitation across the yard. Another area of grass stretches alongside the house, and I can imagine the four McLaughlin brothers as kids running wild on it. Calandra and Ryan’s children will play there someday.
My heart is heavy, but I put on a smile and walk toward Calandra, who lets out a squeal when she sees me. Ryan, next to her, rescues the basket that falls from my arm while Calandra and I hug it out.
Calandra looks amazing. Her blue eyes glow, and she’s relaxed, happy. The way she leans into Ryan means the rest of us had been right. They were meant for each other.
I quickly embrace Ryan and start joking with the two of them so I won’t weep. I’m so happy to see Calandra and very sad for myself, but I hold it together.
Calandra links arms with me and we wander toward the open green, while Ryan totes the basket into the house. The yard is filled with people, mostly McLaughlins, including Zach’s Great Aunt Mary. The slender young woman Ben keeps staring at must be Erin Dixon, the temp Zach has told me about.
“So … you and Zach.” Calandra turns me around as soon as we’re out of earshot of the rest of the party. “Tell me everything.”
“Nothing to tell.” I shrug. “We’ve been out a few times.”
“Look me in the eye when you say that.”
I raise my head and meet her wise gaze. I slump. “I’ve fallen in love with him.” The words wrench out of me, and I know each one is true. “What am I going to do? It’s stupid. Our only connection is we knew each other as kids. Briefly. He has his own life. I have to get on with mine.”
Calandra’s smile vanishes as she feels my misery. “Oh, honey.” She gathers me into a hug, this woman who’s been my friend for ages. “There’s more going on, isn’t there? Tell me.”
I find comfort crying on her shoulder and don’t want to raise my head. Calandra takes hold of my arms and forces us apart. “People will stare. Stand up straight and tell me everything.”
She’s right, and I do. When I’m finished, wiping my eyes on a tissue she hands me, Calandra says sternly, “Go talk to Zach.”
I shake my head. “I know it will be over when I do. I thought maybe I could have this day to enjoy myself, and then tell him.”
“Nope. For one, you’re not enjoying yourself. You’re sobbing into a soggy tissue. Second, it’s not fair to Zach. I bet you were just going to wave at him today without saying a word, and then vanish. Easier for you, sure. But not for the rest of us.”
“Easier?” I wipe my eyes and let anger push away my sadness. “It won’t be easy to say good-bye to Zach, or to walk away from him. Believe me.”
“Why don’t you ask his opinion? Let me tell you something, honey, if you give Zach the cold shoulder, he’ll tell Ryan all about it, and then Ryan will be up in my face for letting my best friend dump his brother. I don’t want to start my marriage fighting about you two.”
“You don’t need to.” I draw myself up, smoothing my hair into place. “This is between Zach and me. No one else.”
“Then make it between you two.” Calandra softens. “Sweetie, if you hadn’t been a hard-ass with me, I wouldn’t be married to Ryan and so much in love. I mean crazy in love. I’m so happy I could scream. And I have, according to Ryan.” She grins, eyes alight. Any moroseness or fear she showed before the wedding has vanished. “So I’m going to be a hard-ass on you. Go. Talk to Zach. Now.”
This Changes Everything: McLaughlin Brothers, Book 1 Page 8