by M. E. Carter
“Yeah. I know. It’s why I’m not really sure what to do in this situation. She’s already so close that if I cut her out, I’m afraid of the backlash.”
I take a deep breath, because I have to make this easy on her. Well, easier than it could be. So I bite my tongue from what the vindictive part of me wants, and say what the adult part of me knows is right.
“Look, you have to work with her. I get that. But I don’t.” Looking up, I see Greg watching me. He winks, giving me the support I didn’t even realize I needed to have this conversation. “I’m not asking you to choose. I’m really not. But I’m asking you not to share any part of my life with her. I’m sure she’s a nice person, but you know how long it’s taken me to feel good about myself again. I’m not going to let someone take that away from me again. Not even for your business.”
“I would never ask that of you,” she responds. “I thought Deborah was one thing, but once I really went over the scene in my head, I realized she’s not at all who I thought she was.”
“Most people aren’t. Why do you think my only friend is you?”
We both laugh, knowing that statement is more than a joke. People really do suck half the time.
“I love you, Callie,” I say, feeling overly sentimental like I always do after fighting with someone I love. “That isn’t going to change because you have shitty colleagues.”
We laugh again, because humor is what we do.
“Well, I won’t make you hang out with those colleagues again.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you. No matter who else comes along, you’ll always be my BFF.”
I smile at the endearment. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
I feel really light and free in this moment. I took the balance check I needed, made the adjustment necessary, and moved on. It feels good. And it’s nice knowing this time, I’m not going to fall.
Chapter Fourteen
Greg
Elena is not one to jump into the important things without really thinking them through. Not disciplining the girls. Not big purchases. Not relationships.
Maybe she was more impulsive before I met her. But years of getting screwed over has made her leery and less trusting. I don’t fault her for that. In a weird way, I kind of like that she didn’t even trust me until I really proved myself. What can I say, I’m a man. I enjoy the chase sometimes.
Although, lately there’s been less chase and more leaning on each other for support. It started when Elena’s mom got the flu and couldn’t watch Max for a couple of weeks. Callie offered to take over, but it didn’t make much sense to force Max out of bed that early every morning, so I started coming over before Elena went to work. I enjoyed the bonding time with Max and it gave me a chance to get a few things done around her house—like oiling the squeaky closet door and patching the hole in Maura’s room that was left over from when she had a raging fit and threw a tiara across the room. The girl may be a princess, but she’s got an amazing pitching arm.
As if that wasn’t big enough, James decided their custody agreement wasn’t working for them. Something about being locked into certain weekends every month with his kids. So, because Elena is kind like that, they switched to him seeing the girls every other weekend. At first, we didn’t think much about it. But then Elena sat down and did the math and we realized the change means he spends even less time with the girls.
We still can’t figure out if he knew that when he made the switch, but it seems awfully coincidental the request came on the heels of two weekend visits, back to back. The girls aren’t rambunctious, but they’re constant energy. If James’s new wife Keri likes sleeping in on weekends and sipping coffee while reading the newspaper, she had parenting all wrong.
After we realized the time frames, Callie, Elena and I wagered on what his next move will be. Yes, actual wagers with money and our John Hancock’s on the betting page. Inappropriate? Maybe. But making light of the situation seems to be a better tactic than letting it cause everyone distress. So we just go with it. I’m now hoping to win a Ben Franklin from Callie when something “comes up at work” and James starts picking them up on Saturdays mornings instead of Friday night. That’s always the way it goes, right?
On the one hand, it’s sad that James is seeing the girls less and less. What kind of father does that? On the other, at least he’s phasing out gradually instead of disappearing suddenly.
The only advantage to all the changes is our weekends overlap sometimes. Instead of me having Peyton when the girls are with James, they’re either all with us or all gone.
This is one of the “all gone” weekends. And I’m taking advantage of it.
“Where are you taking me?” Elena asks with a smile. We’ve been driving for close to an hour, but I haven’t said a word about where we’re headed.
“On a date.”
She punches my arm lightly. “You’re still not going to tell me? It’s getting more and more rural out there. How do I know you’re not taking me somewhere to get rid of me?”
“First of all, if I got rid of you, who would take care of the girls during the week while I’m at work? That’s too much coordinating with your mother. Second,” I turn and quirk an eyebrow at her, “I swear if you don’t stop watching the Investigation Channel, I’m going to disable your cable.”
She gapes at me playfully. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“We’re turning onto a country road now.” I ease the car into the turn lane and take a right. “Swear to me you didn’t just have a passing thought about duct tape and a shovel being in the truck and I’ll let it go.”
She doesn’t respond and avoids my gaze.
“Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”
“Just drive, funny man,” she grumbles. She’s so damn cute when she’s being paranoid. I can’t help myself when I reach over and grab her hand, bringing her knuckles to my lips.
“I’ve only been back a few weeks. You haven’t driven me to murder quite yet.”
She snorts a laugh but doesn’t pull away from me, instead watching the scenery out the window as it changes.
The road in front of us gradually gets less paved and turns more into a gravel road, and eventually a dirt trail emerges as we get closer to our destination. The trees are so dense, we can’t see the sky and the automatic lights on the dash turn on so I can see all the indicators.
Suddenly, there is a break in the trees and the sky opens up. Elena gasps as the scene unfolds in front of her.
“Greg,” she breathes, stunned by the view. A small lake is before us, the sun glistening off the water in reds, purples, oranges and yellows, as dusk moves in.
There’s nowhere to park, just the end of the road, so I stop the car when we get close enough to the water.
“What is this place?” she asks reverently, her eyes never leaving the landscape as we climb out of the car.
I smile at her reaction. I was hoping she’d be happy about my surprise. Looks like it’s mission accomplished. “Welcome to Heisner Lake.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Grabbing a picnic basket and thick quilt out of the trunk, I take a few minutes to get everything set up while she gazes out at the view. Watching her take in the scene as it unfolds in front of her takes my breath away and it hits me… she’s it for me. She’s the last person I’ll kiss and touch and love. She’s the one who will help me raise my daughter and I’ll take care of her daughters like they are my own. It’s “game over” for me.
The thought should bring me to my knees, but it doesn’t. It makes my chest swell. It’s not the right time yet. We’ve got lots of things to sort out first, but knowing my future is going to include this woman gives me a sense of peace like I haven’t experienced before.
Not able to be away from her for one second more, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Come sit with me,” I say quietly in her ear. “I brought wine.”
She chuckles lightl
y. “Trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”
“I thought you were a sure thing,” I joke, eliciting a light smack on my arm.
“Only for you.”
I take her hand and lead her over to the quilt, pulling out the wine.
“Food comes later.” I hand her a glass of her favorite Moscato and pour another for myself. “Right now, I want to enjoy the sunset with you.”
We settle into each other, her back snuggled into my front and watch as the sun continues to throw rays of all different colors across the sky.
“I think this is the most romantic date we’ve ever been on. What’s the occasion?”
I kiss the top of her head. “No occasion. We’ve been so busy lately, I wanted to get out in the peace and quiet for a little while.”
“How’d you find out about this place anyway?”
Taking a large gulp of my wine, I place the glass on the ground next to us. “A buddy of mine, a coach at a different gym, had a bonfire out here a couple years ago. He owns the property and lets his friends use it to camp or whatever.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t built a house on this land.”
“Too far from town, I think. Plus, he likes the idea of owning some property in a secluded area that developers can’t do anything with. Like he can protect a small piece of nature.”
“That’s really nice.”
We lapse into a content silence again as the last of the light fades away. Fortunately, I had the foresight to set up an electric lantern, so all I have to do is click it on. It gives us just enough light to make it seem like we’re in our own little glowing bubble.
Suddenly overwhelmed with desire for this woman, my hand cups the back of her neck, bringing her to me. As I lean in to take her lips with mine…
Her stomach growls. Loudly.
“Ohmygod,” she groans.
“What is it about me that makes you hungry?”
She giggles, leaning her forehead on mine. “I think it’s knowing how much energy I’m going to expend later.”
“So I can get you drunk and take advantage of you tonight.” I kiss her lips lightly and begin to pull away.
But she pulls me back to her, kissing me deeply. I’m lost in the moment, lost in her lips and her tongue and her taste. She breaks away, breathing heavily. “Who says I have to be drunk for you to get laid?”
A low growl comes from deep within me and I attack her again, laying her on the ground underneath me as I plunder her mouth with mine. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognize her wine glass spilling somewhere, but I don’t care. We’re too busy dry humping like teenagers at the end of a dirt road to care.
“I love you, Greg,” she whispers, as I kiss behind her ear, down her neck, across her collarbone. “I love you so much.”
“Love doesn’t even describe what I feel for you.” Nuzzling her breasts, I take one nipple in my mouth through her clothes, biting lightly. I love it when she moans in pleasure.
But when her stomach expresses other desires, my salacious plans are thwarted and I can’t help but laugh.
“Why does that always happen at the good part?” she complains as I laugh.
Patting her hip, I grab her hand and sit us both up. “Come on. Let’s get my woman fed.”
“I hope you brought hot dogs.” She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth down the wayward strands. It doesn’t work, which I love. Reminds me that I’m the one who messed it up in the first place.
Flipping the basket open, I figure out quickly where the spilled wine ended up. “Oh shit. Everything is sticky.” She leans over to see what I’m complaining about as I start pulling dinner out.
Dinner that’s covered in ants.
“Oh shit. Babe, don’t touch that.”
She snatches her hand back to her chest like she’s been burned. “Why? What’s wrong.”
Using the lantern to see inside the basket, I curse. “Son of a bitch. There are ants everywhere.”
“Are you serious?” She sticks her head so far over, I can’t see into the basket anymore. “How does this shit always happen to us? We haven’t been here that long?”
“I guess the ants like your favorite wine as much as you do. They followed it straight to the goods.” I make a face as I find most of our dinner devoured. “Hop up. Let’s shake everything out.”
Instead of spending the next ten minutes eating or making out, both equally enticing ideas at this point, we beat out the quilt and empty the basket of all the ruined food. Now I understand why Elena springs for the zip baggies instead of the cheapy fold over ones I use. Maybe dinner would have been saved if I wasn’t such a cheapskate.
And I still can’t figure out how those bastards got into the Tupperware container of strawberries.
Once it’s all cleaned out and most of the colony has moved on—thanks to us throwing their meal out in the forest where they can eat without being disturbed—we’re left with half a bottle of wine, one turkey and cheese sandwich, and a whole lot of trash.
“That didn’t work out as planned,” I say with my hands on my hips, trying to decide if it’s worth making myself comfortable on our blanket again or if we should call it a night. “Remind me never to take you camping.”
She shrugs, settling herself on the ground. I guess we’re staying. “I’m more of a glamper anyway.”
“Glamping, huh?” I settle down next to her again and hand her the sandwich. “Like a suped-up RV set up in the woods?”
“Uh, no.” She takes half the sandwich and hands it back to me. “Like a fully-loaded cabin with bathrooms and A/C on the outskirts of a town that has real restaurants for nourishment.”
I chuckle and take a bite of my half of dinner. “Noted.”
We eat in silence for the twelve seconds it takes to get through our remaining food, but we never take our eyes off each other.
“What?” I finally ask. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“You’re a good man, Greg.”
I smile sheepishly and my face feels hot like I’m blushing. It’s not uncommon for her to compliment me, but somehow being all alone like this makes it feel more personal. And she’s not done.
“Tonight solidified it for me.”
I laugh. “Our picnic basket is empty, our dinner has been ransacked, and I barely got to second base. Tonight is bordering on tragic.”
She throws her head back, letting out a hearty laugh. “But when tragedy strikes, you give up your sandwich for me. I’d say that makes you a keeper.”
I smile as I inhale the last tiny bite. If a crappy turkey and cheese sandwich makes me a hero in her book, my future is looking secure.
Chapter Fifteen
Elena
“What do you mean he uses the fold-over baggies instead of Ziploc? What kind of a monster is he?”
I shoot her a dubious look implying she is being way overdramatic about how Greg stores his food.
“Focus on the important part, Callie,” I scold. “He spilled. The. Wine.”
“I was trying to forget that part. Party fouls are too traumatic to think about.” She snatches a box of Twinkies from one of the bags and breaks open the package. Junk food is much more our speed on Saturday playdates. “What’s with all the plastic grocery bags full of food, anyway? Are you making us eat all the leftover crap that’s about to rot in your fridge?”
I wish I could be offended at the comment, but she pretty much has me nailed. “I haven’t had time to go to the store. Be glad for what we have. Here,” I hand her a knife and a bunch of half rotten bananas. “Cut these up and throw the good parts in this bowl. Maybe we can trick the kids into thinking it’s part of a fruit salad.”
“It’s only bananas.”
“Have you met our kids?” We look over and see Fiona pushing Max, Christopher, and Peyton on an old-school metal merry-go-round, circa 1979. Not sure why the city hasn’t taken it out yet, since I’m sure it gives anyone who uses it during the summer first degre
e burns, but at least it keeps the kids happy.
Until Christopher loses his grip and goes flying off it, landing in the dirt. The girls all giggle as he shakes it off, and runs to jump back on.
I glance back at Callie who shrugs in response. “Point made. We don’t have the brightest bulbs in the bunch.”
“Is it any surprise? Look at who we mated with.”
We both laugh at my quick wit as we finish setting things up.
“Seriously, Elena?” She holds up the stack of red Solo cups and half a 2-liter of Diet Sprite. “Tell me this isn’t left over from the last birthday party at your place.”
I screw up my face, trying to come up with some sort of witty explanation. Eh. Who cares. It is what it is.
“It’s what I had. Between my mom getting sick, Greg watching Max, work, and everything else going on, I haven’t had the time. Besides, it’s so much more cost effective to get rid of what I have instead of letting it go bad.”
She takes a sip of the drink she just poured and makes a wry face. “Too late. This stuff is totally flat.”
“They won’t care. All they’ll know is its sugar water.”
“I hope you brought something different for us.”
Holding up two 16-ounce bottles of Dr. Pepper, our favorite unhealthy beverage, I flash her a triumphant smile. “I had to get gas on the way here, so I grabbed some adult beverages.”
“I’d hardly call these adult beverages,” she quips as she snatches one out of my hand and twists off the top. “But I’m not complaining.” Taking a big gulp and following it up with a contented sigh, she adds, “The only way this would be better is if it was a fountain drink from Buc-ee’s. They have the best carbonated water to syrup ratio.”
“Mmmm….” I respond, getting excited over the thought of visiting our favorite truck stop. “One of these days, we’re making a road trip to Madisonville to buy some Beaver Nuggets.”
“We really should do our Christmas shopping there this year.”
To anyone outside of Texas, the idea of grocery shopping at a truck stop would sound foreign. But Buc-ee’s is like no other place out there. It’s like the Neimann Marcus of truck stops. Not only do they have the largest and cleanest restrooms you have ever seen in your life, they have a huge deli that specializes in everything from sandwiches and grill items, to fudge and pastries. And their gift section rivals any boutique store in the country. I have bought more than one baby gift in the children’s section of that place.