Well Suited

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Well Suited Page 24

by Hart, Staci


  The party was silent, our friends standing wide-eyed in the living room, surrounded by pink balloons and streamers. It was Rin who broke the tension by shifting to pick up a few paper plates and cups from the coffee table. Val followed suit, and then everyone was moving, hastily cleaning up.

  Ma was crying.

  I stepped toward her, but she took a step back.

  “Six years,” she whispered. “Six years, you’ve been lying to us.”

  My hand moved to touch her arm but paused, falling to my side again. “I only wanted to protect you.”

  “Not like this, Teddy. Not like this.”

  She turned her back on me.

  “Ma, please—”

  “Not now,” she pleaded. “Not right now. Please, excuse me,” she said, shuffling toward her room.

  Katherine intercepted her, offered her arm, met my eyes with a nod before turning her full attention to my mother.

  I looked over the worried faces of our friends, who had all paused in some effect, their expressions touched with pity and fear.

  “I’m sorry,” I croaked. And I turned for the stairs to escape.

  But there was nowhere to run.

  I rushed into my bathroom, leaning on the counter with my hands splayed, knuckles split. My hair was a riot, my suit rumpled and speckled with blood.

  I’d made a mess of everything. Every single thing I touched.

  It didn’t matter what I did, didn’t matter how I tried. Didn’t matter what I wanted or what I gave in the hopes that I’d get it back.

  I’d ruined it all.

  “Theo?”

  Her voice from behind me. Her worried face in the mirror. She moved to my side, laid her hand on my arm, shifted to move in front of me. I let the counter go and stood, looking down at her with my brows drawn in pain and regret.

  Her hand on my jaw, a brush of her fingertips. “Let me help you.”

  But no one could help me.

  She turned for the sink, reaching for a washcloth from a stack. The sound of water running, the splat and drip as she wrung the cloth out. And then she turned to face me again.

  I was too tall for her to reach easily, so in a feat of grace and physics, she hopped herself up to sit on the counter. “Come here,” she said gently.

  So I did.

  She reached for my waist, pulling me closer. I fit myself between her legs, my hands on her thighs, her face so close to mine. I lost myself in her eyes, but she didn’t meet mine.

  Instead, she scanned my face, followed her cloth as she cleaned me off, pressing the cool compress to my aching jaw.

  “You did the right thing,” she said, “even though it feels like you didn’t.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “They’ll see. I promise.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “They’d have to be blind not to, Theo. You did the right thing,” she insisted. “You were right to try to protect them from him.”

  I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “I should have been honest, Kate. I should have let them decide for themselves.”

  “But you protected them for all these years. You shielded them from him. He could have ruined Tommy. I can’t imagine Tommy would have let that slide or would have paid to keep him quiet. John would have blown everything for Tommy. And, yes, Tommy and Sarah are angry and hurt. But give them time. They’ll come around. I know it.”

  I bowed my head. “How do you know?”

  She tilted my chin so I’d meet her eyes. “Because they love you, Theo.”

  “I thought love wasn’t real.”

  “Well, maybe I was wrong.”

  Before I could speak, she shifted, slipping off the counter. “Leave your clothes in the kitchen, and I’ll make sure they get cleaned.”

  “All right,” I answered softly. “Kate?”

  She turned, her hand on the doorframe. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  A smile, small and devastatingly earnest. “You’re welcome, Theo.”

  ❖

  It was dark out by the time I showered and changed, our living room upstairs abandoned, leaving me wondering where Katherine was. Not in her room, the doorway open and dark.

  The sound of crinkling paper drifted up the stairwell, and I followed it.

  I had apologies to make, though I didn’t know if I deserved forgiveness.

  Katherine, Amelia, and Tommy worked silently to clean up the mess of the party, and a flash of guilt tore through the already sickening remorse I harbored. I should have been here helping, too.

  I should have done a lot of things.

  Amelia and Katherine offered smiles, but Tommy ignored me. The only indication that he’d seen me was a renewed fervor in depositing cups into the trash bag in his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, staring at him, willing him to look at me.

  “Fuck your sorry,” he spat, chucking a paper plate into the bag.

  “What was I supposed to do, Tommy? I know I shoulda told you, but he was gonna expose you and Ma both. Call the media, do interviews. Rip everything you’d so carefully hidden down to the ground. So really, what would you have done?”

  “Sent him to the hospital.”

  “Which woulda done what? Made him keep his mouth shut?” I scoffed. “All he wanted was money. And if he didn’t get it, he was gonna hurt you and Ma. I couldn’t stand for that. But I shoulda told you, Tommy. And I’m sorry.”

  He threw the trash bag on the coffee table and laid the full weight of his gaze on me. “Yeah, you shoulda told me.”

  I watched my brother, reading his thoughts. Because what Tommy really wanted was to reconcile with that bag of shit who’d lent us his genetics.

  “He was never gonna be what you wanted.”

  “How do you know? You paid him to stay away.”

  “Because he’s an opportunist. He doesn’t give a fuck about anybody but himself. And he would have used anything to get what he wanted. You, me, Ma. Jesus, Tommy—you act like I stole some precious thing from you. We weren’t off playin’ catch.”

  “God, you’re so high and mighty, Theo,” he shot, stepping into me. “You handled it all on your own, just like everything else. Can’t let anybody in and can’t share the burden. Can’t be weak. Can’t be vulnerable. It’s why you’re so messed up that you got shot down by Katherine. If you hadn’t been vulnerable, you wouldn’a gotten hurt. That about right?”

  “Fuck you,” I spat. “Fuck you, Tommy.”

  “I’m just sayin’. This is how you roll. Things woulda been different with him if we’d all sat down and talked about it.”

  “What part of he wanted your money don’t you fucking get?” I fumed, close enough to feel the heat waving off of him. “I swear to God, you’re so hardheaded. I couldn’t crack your skull if I took a fucking pickax to it.”

  “That’s enough!”

  We froze, turning to the sound of our mother.

  Her face was bent, her dark eyes shining and lips tight. “Sit down,” she said, her mom voice firm and hard.

  “But—” Tommy started.

  She pointed to the couch, her jaw flexed and eyes hard. “Sit.”

  Tommy and I shared a look before doing as we’d been told.

  Katherine and Amelia hurried to help Ma around the couches, depositing her into an armchair before slipping silently upstairs.

  Ma watched us with disappointment all over her face. “Stop fighting, both of you.”

  “But he—” Tommy spat before Ma cut him off.

  Never did know when to keep his mouth shut.

  “I said, enough! Zip it, Thomas Banowski, right this second.”

  He shot me another look and sat back, scowling.

  “Ma,” I said gently. “Ma, I’m so sorry.”

  But she shook her head. “He wanted money all those years ago and held us ransom. I hate that you didn’t tell me, Teddy. But I woulda done the same.”

  My throat clamped shut. “Ma…”

  “Never in
your life have you ever done anything out of spite or anger. You live your days serving everyone but yourself. If you’d thought there was another way, you woulda taken it. I…I’m sorry I was so mad. But seein’ his face just…” The word trailed off, and she lost herself for a moment. Her lips pursed. “It’s over now anyway. Don’t you give him one more penny, Teddy.”

  “I won’t, Ma.”

  Tommy was furious. “I can’t believe you’re just gonna let it go, Ma. Six years, he kept this from both of us. He saw that man and didn’t tell us the son of a bitch was even alive.”

  Ma gave him a look. “You feel better now you know he is? Did seeing him answer all your questions? Are you satisfied now you popped him in the nose? Tell me, Tommy—do you feel better or worse?”

  An angry flush smudged his cheeks, his eyes shining, nostrils flaring. “Worse,” he admitted.

  “Your brother was trying to spare you this, can’t you see that?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “You don’t wanna admit it, fine,” she said. “But you know it’s true just as well as I do. All he’s ever done is take care of you.”

  “Ma—” I started.

  “Don’t interrupt,” she snapped. “Tommy, you find forgiveness in your heart for your brother who tried to protect you.”

  He met my eyes, dark and endless as my own. He swallowed.

  I waited.

  He knew, and he kept me waiting longer before finally speaking, “I know you were trying to protect me, but I’m still fucking mad about it.”

  I sighed through my nose, my brows still drawn, but my heart eased. “Wanna hit me again?”

  That earned me a flicker of a smirk. “Kinda.”

  I rubbed my jaw. “Man, you haven’t taken a swing at me in five years.”

  “Six.”

  My brows rose with my smile, and we said at the same time, “Clarissa Merryton.”

  “You deserved that, too,” he said.

  “I did,” I admitted.

  Ma smiled, but the expression was tight with exhaustion. “I love you boys more than life itself, and to think your father has come between you at all cuts me to the quick. He has hurt us all enough. I don’t want to give him any more, not one minute of time, not one iota of energy. Deal?”

  “Deal,” we said in unison.

  “Good. Now, come here and hug your ma.”

  We helped her up and wrapped her in a hug. Took turns kissing her cheek. And Tommy and I clasped arms. He pulled me in for a hug, clapping my shoulder with his free hand, squeezing tight enough to sting so I’d know how sorry he was, that I was forgiven, and how bad it’d hurt him—the whole encounter. It was too much, too thick with emotion to even peel back.

  But that was what we did. We protected, and we forgave.

  Because that was what love was.

  29

  Automatic

  Katherine

  37 weeks, 1 day

  “Are you sure you don’t want a water birth, Katie?” my mother asked in all seriousness.

  “I am unflinchingly sure,” I answered flatly. “I’ve already written my birth plan.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, that’s flexible.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  Sarah chuckled. “I can’t believe in three weeks, I’ll have a baby to hold.”

  “And then another one a few months later,” Mom added.

  Sarah beamed. “It’s an embarrassment of riches. A year ago, I was more prepared for Tommy to end up in jail than a wedding chapel, and I figured Teddy for a perpetual bachelor. And look at us all now. Babies and weddings galore.”

  I tried to smile, knowing she didn’t intend to dig at me for not marrying Theo.

  We’d been living in a constant state of almost. Almost touching. Almost speaking. Almost friends.

  Forever seemed like such precious little to promise him to end the almost. But with a glance at my mother, I was reminded exactly why the marriage level of forever was impossible. She didn’t understand words like forever and commitment.

  She shook her head, doe-eyed and sighing. “I wish Katie and Theo were having a wedding.”

  “Mom,” I warned.

  She wore a magnificent pout. “I know, I know. You two just seemed so happy together.”

  “We’re happy now.”

  She gave me a look.

  “What?”

  “You are not happy. I have witnessed firsthand your moping around and hangdog looks at each other across the room for weeks. It’s clear you love each other, and I just can’t fathom not being with someone you love.”

  “You can’t fathom staying with someone you love either.”

  The pout turned to a frown. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’ve been divorced from Dad four times. Can’t you just call a fight a fight and work through it?”

  “Your father and I don’t fight,” she said matter-of-factly.

  It was my turn to give her a look.

  “Have you ever seen us fight?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “No,” I admitted with a pout of my own.

  “Exactly. We’re happy together, and we’re happy apart. Why is that so hard to understand?”

  “Because it’s too fluid,” I blustered, shifting on the couch. “It’s lawless, boundless.”

  “But honey, that’s love,” she said. “It’s not a straight line, and neither is life. Life is fluid. Why shouldn’t love be?”

  I shook my head. “Love isn’t real.”

  Sparrow gaped like I’d just burned a stack of tarot cards in front of her. “Of course it is.”

  “It isn’t! It’s not some magical patch you can fix your relationships with. Say I love you, and all your sins are forgiven. You throw the word around like hello and goodbye.”

  “That’s because the whole world is made up of love. It’s what motivates almost every person on the planet. It’s the energy that binds us together.”

  “Energy doesn’t bind people together, Mom.” Impatience, thick in my words.

  Her face screwed up. “That’s the silliest thing you’ve ever said, Katie. I can see it binding you and Theo. Your auras are so connected, they practically explode like fireworks whenever you’re in the same room.”

  “Auras aren’t real.”

  “Okay, fine. Then tell me this. Tell me you don’t feel the bond with your baby.”

  “That’s different,” I huffed. “That’s chemical. That’s familiarity. I’m carrying her around all day, every day, anticipating the day she’s born. That bond is instinctive.”

  “That bond is love. You’re about to meet that baby, and your whole world will revolve around her. Survival of the species has little to do with it.”

  “Couldn’t it be both?” Sarah asked.

  We turned our faces to her.

  “Why does it have to be one or the other? And the better question is, why does it matter? Katherine, you’re going to love that baby in ways you can’t even comprehend. You’ve already got an inkling…I can see it on your face even now. That love you have for your child is transcendent. The moment she’s born is the moment your life stops being yours. It’ll be hers, and you won’t think twice about the sacrifice. You won’t even notice the shift. That, honey, is love. It’s automatic. You won’t know you’re in it until you’re too deep to get out.”

  Tears, burning and hot, stinging my nose and the back of my throat. My vision tunneled.

  The moment she’d said it, I knew it was true, against logic, against all I’d thought I knew.

  This was love. Love for my child, uncultivated, unlearned. I hadn’t even seen her, and I loved her. I loved every little finger and every little toe, counted every minute until she arrived so I could kiss every one. She hadn’t done a single thing to earn that love but exist.

  Love was automatic.

  And if my love for my child was automatic and true, then there was another truth. A truth that had been right there, right in front of me al
l along.

  His name was on my lips, written on my heart, etched on my soul. I’d never believed in fate, never subscribed to soul mates. But if ever there was a man who was my exact match, my most perfect equal, it was Theo.

  And if that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what it was.

  That word was defined by his existence.

  I had fallen without knowing what was happening, without understanding the shift between us, in me. There was nothing I had to do, nothing for him to explain. There was no course to take, no box to check.

  My love for him was a fact. It existed whether I believed in it or not.

  “Katie, honey, are you okay?” Mom said, moving to my side, taking my free hand.

  The other was pressed to my belly. Hope shifted against my palm.

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Love is a gift,” she said, her eyes shining with tears of her own. “And you are so loved. There has to be a way for you and Theo. Because that boy loves you.”

  “He does,” Sarah added. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day he met his match, but Katherine, you are it.”

  “He…he asked me to love him, and I told him I couldn’t. I didn’t realize I already did.” The words were thick in my throat, broken.

  “Then it’s easy, Katie,” Mom said, smiling. “All you have to do is tell him.”

  And that was all I wanted to do. I wanted to run out of the house and through the streets of New York, calling his name. I wanted to find him and tell him I loved him.

  Sarah shifted to pick herself up with shaky hands, smiling and crying and hauling herself to her feet before I could help. She stepped toward us around the coffee table, shuffling her feet, her mobility limited. My eyes widened—I moved to stand, to meet her halfway. But before I could reach her, she took a step, her foot hooking in the coffee table’s leg.

  She went down with a thud and a crack, her hands too slow to catch her, her foot still hung in the table. Her leg twisted at an unnatural angle, the cry from her lips raising every hair on my body, setting every nerve on end.

  I rushed to her, pushing the coffee table out of the way around her leg. She groaned as I knelt beside her, turning her onto her back with gentle care and alarm screaming in my ears.

 

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