Well Suited

by Hart, Staci

  I felt like I was being punished for my feelings, for what I wanted. That if I didn’t hold on to this, I would lose my everything I’d always wanted. I thought through it, considered giving it up. Saw my life without a wife, and although it hurt, it was better than not having her at all.

  But a life without love? Without those four letters, that one word that promised me her heart? That was one thing I couldn’t do.

  Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe this was the best she could give.

  I just didn’t know if it was enough.

  27

  Queen of Sheba

  Katherine

  34 weeks, 3 days

  The room was a sauna.

  Outside wasn’t particularly warm anymore—fall had broken the sweltering heat of summer—and even if it were, the brownstone had been fitted with central air when they renovated.

  The reason I was sweating like an ice cube in a fireplace was a combination of the additional thirty pounds, the hormones required to regulate my body temperature, and the thirty-some-odd faces staring at me.

  I kept my eyes on my hands and the task before them—pulling wads of tissue paper out of a pink bag with an elephant on the front.

  If it hadn’t been for my friends’ insistence, I wouldn’t have agreed to a baby shower. If I’d fully realized how uncomfortable I’d be as the center of attention, I would have refused.

  How bad could it be? Theo had asked me.

  Answer: sweaty, itchy, get-me-the-hell-out-of-here bad.

  The men who had accompanied their women looked as disenchanted as I felt. At least they had booze. All I had was a stupid lemonade.

  Under what felt like obscene mounds of tissue paper was a plethora of breastfeeding supplies. Breast pads. Lanolin—otherwise known as nipple grease. Boob-shaped ice packs. Silicon nipple shields.

  Seriously, the word nipple was on every package.

  “Thank you, Val,” I said after I’d listed each item aloud for Amelia, who was compiling a list for thank-you notes. “My nipples will be thankful for your thoughtfulness.”

  She winked, shooting a finger gun at me. “I’m here for you and your nipples.”

  The crowd chuckled.

  Rin cleared the paper, taking the gifts from me to repack in the bag as Theo handed me another gift.

  “Ooh, that one’s from me!” my mother called, waving at me.

  I was immediately terrified.

  In the bottom of the bag were little baggies—tea, I realized on inspection. Spearmint, rose hips, red raspberry leaves. I shot her a look when I saw blue cohosh. She was beaming.

  “Blue cohosh is dangerous, Mom.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, psh. We’ll use it once you go into labor, not to induce.”

  Theo and I shared a look, agreeing silently to put it directly in the trash.

  “And that red raspberry leaf tea will help soften your cervix, get you all ready for the baby! I’m just gonna throw it out there that sex will help that, too. You two don’t have to be involved to do her a solid, Theo. Small mercies!”

  “This is not the place to discuss my cervix, Mother!”

  “Moving on!” Amelia chimed too cheerfully and far too loud, her face the color of a rutabaga as someone handed me another present, defusing the bomb with legs that was my mother.

  I felt like the Queen of Sheba with attendees waiting and my king at my side.

  Theo was close enough that our thighs touched, our chairs set up like thrones in front of our friends and family. He was probably another reason for the sweat list. We hadn’t been this close in what felt like forever. The contact had me hot all over and fighting the urge to climb into his lap and kiss him.

  The weeks that had passed did nothing to quell my feelings for him. We’d at least found a routine, a new normal, a way to be friends.

  And I hated it.

  I hated being in the room with him without being able to touch him. The tension was almost unbearable, the unspoken words screaming between us. Even when we felt almost normal, the shadow of what we once had been hung over us like a thunderhead.

  But we’d settled into it as best we could. Theo seemed to be faring better than me. The last few weeks, he’d softened, smiling more, avoiding me less.

  To be honest, that made it all so much worse.

  Worse and so much better. Because it was a taste of what I’d had once, and that taste reminded me that I was starving to death.

  He smiled at me, and I wondered how he wasn’t sweating at all. He had a full goddamn suit on. I wore a black sundress with a light cardigan the color of an apple, and I felt like I was about to combust. The bottom layer of my bangs stuck to my forehead, and my breasts, which had doubled in size, sat heavy on the shelf of my belly. I brushed the back of my hand on my forehead, and it came away damp.

  “Is there more?” I asked pitifully.

  “Nope. You did it,” he said.

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathed.

  Rin busied herself combining things into bags and moving things out of the way while my mom helped her clean up remnants of paper and tape and ribbon. Amelia stood, hooking her pen in her notebook with a blissful smile on her face. She’d just started to show, and she looked beautiful—small and glowing and all belly. I, on the other hand, looked like a hippopotamus—shiny, fat, and grumpy.

  “All right, it’s time for games!” she cheered.

  The men in the room collectively sighed. I buckled, my eyes widening and back straightening.

  I reached for Theo’s hand without realizing, and he spoke just when I noticed. “Hey, let’s take five first. Everybody grab a refill before Amelia forces you all to make toilet paper diapers on your boyfriends.”

  I sighed, relieved. “Thank you,” I breathed.

  “Come with me,” he said, helping me to stand and steering me toward the stairs. He snagged a fresh lemonade off the table on the way, and once we were upstairs, he headed us to the patio.

  The second we were outside, I felt ten pounds lighter. The breeze was light, touched with a chill that felt like heaven on my overheated skin. I sighed, twisting my hair to expose my neck.

  He handed me the paper cup, which I took, drinking greedily. Another sigh when it was gone, and his big hands took the rope of hair and lifted it up, fanning my bare neck with a baby bingo card he’d pulled from his pocket.

  I closed my eyes and sighed again.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sigh so much in a five-minute span.”

  I could hear him smiling, and my lips smiled in answer.

  “This was a terrible idea.”

  “It’s one of those things we do for everyone else more than ourselves. They want to be here. They want to celebrate.”

  I snorted a laugh. “There’s not a single man downstairs who wants to be here.”

  A chuckle. “Fair enough. But did you see your mom’s face? Your friends? I think Amelia’s waited her whole life to throw a baby shower.”

  “Honestly, I’d do it just for her, if she asked me. Which she didn’t, by the way. She told me.”

  “She can be really bossy when she sets her mind to it.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Feel any better?” he asked, still fanning my neck.

  “Much,” I answered, wishing I’d said no when he smoothed my hair and took his hand back.

  For a moment, we were silent, looking into the empty courtyard as the breeze stirred around us.

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the rail, my eyes on the greenery below.

  “For what?”

  “Everything. For taking care of me. For knowing what I need, always. For saving me.”

  “You don’t need saving, Katherine.”

  I hated when he called me that.

  “Just because I don’t need saving doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good to be saved.”

  “Well, good, because I happen to like saving you. It makes me feel useful.”

  “You’re one of the most usefu
l people I know. And the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever seen.”

  He stilled. I swallowed hard, regretting saying so much.

  “There’s no such thing as perfect,” he said after a moment.

  “I know. But for me, you are.” I stared through the brownstone behind ours, the bricks and windows blurring. “I wish it were different, Theo.”

  “So do I.”

  “How is it possible that we could care for each other so much and not be together?”

  “I wonder that every day. Living with you through it all is torture and bliss. Because I want to spend every second with you, but you’re not mine.”

  “Every day is hard,” I agreed, the door open and the words coming without thought or will to stop them. “Every day, I wonder if something will change. If we’ll wake up and be back where we were. Or if something in us will reconfigure, and we’ll suddenly be on the same page again.”

  “Me too,” he said quietly. “I miss you.”

  I turned to face him, searching the depths of his eyes. The pretense was gone, the falsity of our friendship exposed. “I miss you, too.”

  He drew a heavy breath and opened his arms, stepping into me. “Come here,” he said.

  So I did.

  I wound my arms around his narrow waist, buried my face in his chest, breathed in the familiar scent of him, lost myself in the comfort of his arms and the feel of his lips pressing to my crown.

  I wanted so desperately for things to be different, wanted so much to give him what he needed. I wanted to understand how I could change my perspective. I wanted a new definition of love.

  But maybe this was love. And it was neither the brain chemicals I’d so proudly waved around, nor was it unexplainable magic. Maybe it was this, the feeling I had right now. The sense of belonging, the sense of purpose.

  He was home. And I’d boarded up the windows and locked the door behind me.

  If it was love, would it mean a way back in? Would it mean I could have him again? Was it possible I was wrong about everything?

  Could I give him what he needed?

  Could what he needed be everything I wanted?

  His hand slipped into my hair, cupping the back of my head, holding me to him for just a moment longer.

  “We’d better get back inside,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

  I wondered if it was the same emotion locked in my throat and decided it was.

  And so, I followed him inside, questioning the things I thought I knew.

  If anyone could ever change my mind, it was him. But if I was wrong, we’d only be in for more pain. I’d only hurt him worse.

  And that was something I just couldn’t bear.

  28

  Take the Bull

  Theo

  Every man in the room wore a toilet paper diaper but me.

  I laughed, the neck of my beer hooked in my fingers. I brought it to my lips for a pull.

  Even Katherine laughed openly, pointing at Rin’s boyfriend, Court. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a man so deeply disturbed as he was in that moment, donning a loincloth of two-ply over an expensive cobalt suit with a scowl to rival a Roman general.

  The doorbell rang over the ruckus. Katherine and I exchanged a glance that transmitted an unspoken thought. Almost everyone we knew was in this room.

  “Maybe it’s a package,” I said.

  “It’s Sunday,” she studiously pointed out.

  I stood, striding to the door, unprepared for the man on the other side.

  John Banowski, tall and proud, in clothes I’d paid for and a cigarette I’d bought in his fingers. “Son,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

  I tried to step out, hoping to close the door before anyone saw him, but he caught it with his palm, keeping it open.

  “Havin’ a little party?”

  “Yeah, and you’re not invited. What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to call me if you—”

  “Just wanted to bring these to you.” He reached behind him, his hand returning with the same pack of papers he’d had before.

  “Are they signed?”

  I reached for them, but he jerked them away. “They are. So, how much are they worth to you?”

  Fury rose in my chest, my jaw clamping shut. “You sorry piece of shit. You took everything from her, and you can’t give her this one fucking thing?”

  “Hey now, don’t get all worked up. I got no problem signing them—that’s done. It’s handing them over I thought could use a little…incentive.”

  The pop of my jaw. The clench of my fist. My shoulders square and back straight as a fucking razor. “How much do you want?”

  “That all depends.”

  “On what?”

  He leaned in, sneering. “On how much you’re willing to give.”

  “I don’t owe you one fucking thing. You’ve taken enough from us. Now give me the fucking papers before I go in there and end all this once and for all.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t. They’d never forgive you.” He scanned my face as a slow smile crept onto his. “Nah, you’re too smart for that, aren’t you?”

  I leaned in. “Try me.”

  “Theo?” Katherine’s voice came from behind me, kicking me back into reality. She pulled the door open and went dead still.

  “Well, well, well. Who’s this?” John asked.

  “None of your fucking business, like I said. Get out of here. Call me like I told you.”

  He tsked. “You’ve got terrible manners, son. Look at that. My grandkid in there?” He jerked his chin in Katherine’s direction.

  Katherine’s hand slipped into mine. “Come back to the party, please,” she said, the words quiet and touched with fear.

  “Yeah, Teddy,” he said with mock cheer. “Come on, let’s get to the party.”

  He pushed past me before I could stop him—Katherine had my hand, and she was too close for me to put my hands on him for fear she’d get hurt in the scuffle. Helplessly, I watched him enter. I saw the din and activity in the room still and then stop. And in the center of it all were Tommy and my mother, staring at him with pale shock and absolute disbelief.

  “Johnny?” Ma breathed, her brows knit together in confusion.

  “Hey, babe. Long time.” He was smirking, looking casual as the day was long, scooping a handful of nuts off the table of food. He tossed one in his mouth. “Look at you, Tommy. Last time I saw you, you was practically in a diaper just like that.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Tommy shot, his body drawn tight as a bowstring. “Theo, what the hell is he doing here?”

  “What, your dear old dad can’t come to the party? Don’t act so happy to see me. I’d say I was surprised Teddy didn’t tell you all about me comin’ around. How come you been hidin’ me, Teddy?” His eyes glinted, sharp as switchblades.

  Ma stood with Amelia’s reluctant help. “Teddy, what’s he talkin’ about?” She looked scared, small and wounded, like a bird with a broken wing.

  “Nothin’, Ma. He’s just makin’ trouble.”

  She cast a look in his direction.

  Tommy stormed through the crowd, ripping the toilet paper off as he walked. “Tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ here, old man,” he said through his teeth, stepping into John’s space, not stopping until they were nose to nose.

  “Ask your fucking brother. He’s the one who’s been tryin’ to keep me away for six years.”

  Slowly, Tommy’s face turned to mine. “What?” he asked, the calm in his voice dangerously deceiving.

  I met John’s eyes. “You stupid son of a bitch,” I said, my body shaking. “Trying to keep you away? Like you give a fuck about anybody but yourself.” I faced my brother. “Six years ago, he came here to blackmail you. So I paid him to stay away. And he’s been doing just that until he got the divorce papers. They’re in his pocket. He came to sell them to me.”

  There was zero time to react. Tommy’s fist cocked and sprang like a cobra, connecting
with John’s nose with a smack and a crunch and a spray of blood. Someone screamed. I moved for Tommy, who had John by the lapels of his leather jacket, just as Court and Sam reached him. They pulled Tommy off and held him back as I shoved John toward the door.

  “Get out,” I yelled, shoving him again. He stumbled toward the door from the force. “It’s over. Give me the papers.”

  “Or what?” he shot, swiping his ruined nose.

  I grabbed him by the shirtfront, bringing him close. “Or else we’ll take you to court and ruin what’s left of your fucking life.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Big words, Teddy.”

  “Give. Me. The papers.”

  He shifted for his back pocket, providing the papers.

  I let him go and snatched them with a snap.

  John ran the back of his hand across his mouth, inspecting the gore that had come off on it. “Good riddance,” he said, spitting a gob of blood on the hardwood. “Never were worth my time, anyway. Even at ten grand a month.”

  Rage, red and hot. I dived for him without thinking, swinging without stopping. The crunch of bone against bone. The slick heat of his blood. Over and over again—for how long, I didn’t know.

  Gravity ceased as I was pulled off him, picked up, carried away, snarling. Through the haze, I saw Ma standing stronger and harder than I’d seen her in years.

  “Get out,” I heard her say. “You’ve done enough.”

  And with a sneer and a limp, he did just that.

  I was set on my feet, my eyes still on the door he’d walked out of. Tommy stepped into my line of sight, his face drawn and eyes dark as midnight.

  His jaw clenched as he stretched to his full height. And I knew what was coming before he did it.

  I took the hook in the jaw without trying to stop it, my body twisting from the force of it, the sting radiating down my neck, tightening my stomach.

  With a shake of my head and a hard series of blinks, I could at least see again. I straightened up and smoothed my clothes, which were dotted with my father’s blood.

  But Tommy had already turned, stalking toward the door. Amelia ran after him, her face wide with fear, calling his name. And with a hard slam of the door, he was gone, too.