Leave Me Breathless

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  Oh no she fucking doesn’t. I catch her by the wrist, pulling her around and forward, not giving her a moment to protest or fight me. And I show her why her reasons are pathetic, kissing her with all the delicacy she needs, but with all the passion to remind her.

  And. It. Is. Fucking. Heaven.

  I don’t know what her game is, but I just ended it. “It wasn’t for the best,” I say, nipping the end of her tongue and kissing the edge of her mouth. “So don’t you dare say that again.” Having her in my arms settles the storm inside me. “Look at me,” I demand, and she does. “Do you really think it’s not for the best?” I will not let her lie to me. “Or are you telling yourself that?” She looks so very guilty all of a sudden, telling me all I need to know. “No more, okay?”

  Hannah brushes under each eye, nodding. “And Alex?”

  I think about what Alex said this morning. How resolute she sounded. “I’ll talk to her. I just need to find the right time.” But when will that be?

  Hannah’s eyes widen, and she spins away, marching back to the checkout. “Hey, I promise I’ll—”

  “Dad?”

  Nooooooooo!

  I stare at Hannah, who has her back to us, frantically searching for words. Why am I here? What am I doing? Paint! “Hannah was just getting what we need.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Alex says, casually strolling past me and scanning the shelves. “I didn’t tell you what we need.” She turns a sickly sweet smile onto me, and I shrink where I stand. Does she know? Is she purposely making me sweat? And does this mean her words from this morning don’t stand? Or is she just continuing her silly little teasing game because she’s cottoned on to the fact that I fancy someone? Is she getting a kick out of this?

  I cough my throat clear. “I used my initiative.”

  “So what do we need, then?”

  Returning Alex’s fake smile, I wander over to the shelf, pulling down random tubes of paint. Who the hell knows if they’re right, or even suitable for what we need, but I have to keep my hands busy or risk strangling my daughter. “We’ll take these.” I keep my glare fixed on the little shit as I wander to Hannah and slam them down one by one on the counter, making Hannah jerk each time.

  “Thanks, Hannah,” Cabbage sings, skipping over, all smiles. If she wasn’t okay with me dating, then why’s she all chipper? Did she say what she said this morning on the spur of the moment? “We’re finishing our bridge.”

  “You want these to paint a bridge?” Hannah asks.

  “Yes.”

  She reaches for a tube of oil. “You’ll need about a hundred of these to paint one of the posts.”

  “Really?” Alex says, holding back her smile. She knew that. Of course she knew that. Why didn’t I think of it? “Oh, well.” She sighs. “We’ll have to go to Grange, Dad.”

  I close my eyes and gather patience, not being able to help thinking that Alex has set me up. But then, isn’t that a good thing?

  “Hannah,” Alex says, resting her elbows on the counter.

  Poor Hannah’s eyes dart briefly to mine, nervous. “Yes?”

  “How do you feel about Chunky Monkey?”

  “Never tried it,” she says, way too fast, her cheeks filling with blood. “Why do you ask?”

  I cringe, seeing Hannah cringing, too, regretting her follow-up question. “You should definitely try it,” Alex declares. “It’ll change your life.” She twirls on the spot, throwing a knowing smile at each of us before sashaying out of the shop. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”

  Both Hannah and I watch her go until she disappears around the corner. And then I laugh lightly to myself, shaking my head.

  “Oh my God, she knows.” Hannah descends into a full-blown panic, pacing to the window to look out.

  “She doesn’t know.” She so fucking knows. But the question is, what does she think she knows? That we fancy each other? That we’ve kissed? Spent the night? How do you feel about Chunky Monkey? She really does know.

  Hannah shuffles around from the window, her head low, her chin on her chest. I don’t like despondency on her. “I’m sorry.”

  Whoa. Sorry? “What for?”

  “I could have played that better. Been more convincing.”

  “How exactly?” I laugh, now quite amused by the whole situation. I underestimated my daughter, but right now I don’t care. She hasn’t flown off the handle. She hasn’t given me a hard time or made me feel guilty. All my fears have been blown out of the water, because I know my girl, and I saw happiness past her need to play with me.

  “I don’t know.” Hannah sighs, her hand coming to her forehead and rubbing. “This is strange ground for me, Ryan. You, your daughter, my feelings.”

  I miss everything except the feelings bit. “What feelings?” I ask, and she looks up, stunned, like she can’t believe she said that. I cock my head in prompt, and I see with perfect clarity what’s standing before me. A woman in just as much turmoil as me. Our reasons might be different, but for now I’ll take comfort in the fact that this is new territory for us both. I know what’ll make me feel better, and I hope it serves the same purpose for Hannah. I go to her, cup the side of her face, and kiss her.

  Everything is right in an instant. The sounds she’s making, the feel of her, my thoughts leveling out.

  And then the door to the store flies open, and Hannah is suddenly out of my arms. I startle, my head still dropped to accommodate our height difference. What the…?

  I look to my left and find Alex.

  Oh God.

  I die a thousand deaths when her eyes pass between Hannah and me, her lips pressed together. I straighten. Roll my shoulders. Cough my throat clear. And poor Hannah stands frozen on the spot, looking as guilty as she is.

  “You two are fools.” Alex sighs, turning and looking out the door again. “Mum’s heading this way.”

  That quickly snaps me back to life. “What?”

  “Mum.” Alex points down the street and quickly shuts the door. “She’s heading this way.” She guides Hannah to a stool, helping her down. “Just look busy.” Then she turns to me. “Go hide!” she snaps, and I dash out the back quickly as ordered. It’s only when I come to a stop in Hannah’s kitchen that I wonder why the fuck I’m here. I don’t have time to go ask.

  The door opens, and I hear Darcy. “Alexandra, darling!”

  “Mother!” My girl’s way of talking changes in an instant. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was passing on my way to the post office and saw you come in.”

  “I’m just chewing the fat with Hannah.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Chatting.”

  “Oh, I see. Nice to meet you, Hannah.”

  “And you!” Hannah practically shrieks. I sag against the wall, done for the day. Why the hell did Alex want me to hide? What’s my life got to do with Darcy, anyway? It’s none of her business who I date. Date? I smile, wide and satisfied, as I stand like a fool listening to my daughter make small talk with her mother. And the whole time, I’m wondering what the hell Hannah must be making of this. My crafty daughter. Her unbearable mother. The poor thing didn’t bargain for this.

  When I hear Darcy say her goodbyes, I peek around the door, and the look on Hannah’s face says it all. She’s wondering where the world went wrong. I give her a nervous smile, and she rolls her eyes going to the checkout.

  “Seriously, you guys,” Alex mutters, jumping down from her stool. And she leaves. With that statement in the air, she just leaves, and I’m suddenly worried that, actually, she doesn’t approve.

  “You slept with her?” Hannah asks, throwing her arm out toward the door once Alex has gone.

  I should have expected it, I suppose. “You mean, she’s all well turned out and perfect, and I’m not, right? The princess with the pauper. The lady with the tramp.”

  Hannah withdraws, horrified. “No, I didn’t mean that,” she says quietly. I take no pleasure from her apparent remorse. “She’s awful, Ryan. An
d I feel terrible for saying that because she’s Alex’s mother, but, seriously, who does she think she is, looking at me like I’m dirt on her Manolo Blahniks? Who wears Manolos around here, anyway?”

  “What the hell are Milano Blankets?” The look that fires my way is a mixture between surprise and…something I can’t quite read. She waves a dismissive hand at me, and I shrug, because I have nothing else.

  “That was Darcy Hampton,” I say, exasperated. But back to more important matters…“When can I see you again?” I know this really rides on me. I need to have the conversation with Alex. Get it all out in the open. Move forward. I’m actually excited for that. Or am I? I glance back at the door, remembering Alex’s final words.

  “You tell me,” Hannah retorts on a pout. Those lips. Magnets. I’m pulled closer, first slowly, but the nearer I get, the more powerful the pull, and I’m soon breathing down on her. Slipping my hand around her back, I haul her close and steal a kiss, making it deep and hard. She’s immediately mine, soft in my hold, a puppet to the passion. God, she’s like a drop of heaven.

  I release her, though it’s a task. “I will.” I walk away, pulling the door open. “Just as soon as I’ve broken the surprise news to Alex.”

  “I don’t think she’s going to be shocked.” Hannah’s out of breath, her words ragged. She’s dazed.

  I smile and leave her to gather herself, feeling the lightest I’ve felt in years. The past few days have been completely wasted, our wires getting all crossed. Now that they’re untangled and we’re both clear, it’s time to move this thing along. Maybe I’ll cook Hannah dinner. Maybe we’ll have a date in the bath. Yes, with candles and all that mushy stuff. Hannah deserves that. I frown to myself. Ryan the romantic? Well, that’s one I haven’t been called before. I can do romance.

  Alex is leaning against the truck when I make it there, her eyebrows high. “We need to talk,” I say, getting in the driver’s seat, starting as I mean to go on. Positive. Determined. Confident.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she replies, hopping in the other side.

  I growl at her. “I’ll wash your mouth out with soap if I hear another curse word from you.”

  Kicking her feet up on the dash, she straightens her cap and turns to face me as I start the truck. “How long have you been dating her?”

  Dating. I’m not sure what Hannah and I did the other night qualifies as dating. But for the sake of my daughter’s innocence and setting a good example…“I don’t know. Like, a week or something.”

  “Are you gonna marry her?”

  I pull out of the parking bay with a laugh. “Jesus, Cabbage, calm down, will you?”

  “Do you love her?”

  “What?”

  “Is she gonna move into the cabin?”

  “Cabbage—”

  “Are you going to have babies?”

  “No!”

  “Have you kissed her?”

  That’s it. I slam my foot on the brake and turn to face her. Good grief, let’s pull this back a bit. “We’re dating. That’s it. Just dating.”

  Her face twists, unsatisfied. “That doesn’t answer my questions.”

  “Your questions are all too premature.”

  “Even the kiss one?”

  I nearly choke on my tongue. “Especially the kiss one,” I clarify, not in the least bit sorry for lying. The last thing I need is Alex thinking kissing on a first date is acceptable. Or even in the first year.

  “You’re a bad liar.” She laughs, quite hysterical. “Two plates in the dishwasher, Dad. She stayed over that night I was at Mum’s.”

  Snookered. What am I supposed to do with this? “We played Monopoly,” I mumble like a fool, increasing her hysterics.

  “Dad,” she sighs once she’s got herself under control. “Did you forget I grew up?”

  She’s something else. “You’re ten.” I pull off up the high street. “Last time I checked, that doesn’t make you the fountain of life knowledge.”

  “Last time I checked, thirty-nine doesn’t make you clueless when it comes to women.”

  “I’m not clueless.” The cheek. “What’s gotten into you?” I ask as we approach the bridge. I wave to Mrs. Hatt, but she’s unable to wave back, her hands full of cats.

  “I just don’t want you to screw it up.”

  I look across the truck, a little surprised. “You don’t?”

  “No.” Alex shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing at all. “I like her,” she admits, not telling me anything I don’t already know, but it still warms me to the bone.

  I grin from ear to ear, reaching over to take her hand. “Me too, Cabbage.” Now for something that’s been bothering me…“Tell me why you told me to hide from your mum.”

  She’s quiet for a few moments, as if figuring out how to word it. “It wouldn’t be fair.” Her head resting back against the seat, she looks across to me. “Her life is falling apart. Yours is falling into place.” She squeezes her small hand around mine. “I’m happy for you, Dad. I hope it works out.”

  I don’t think my daughter has ever said anything that’s meant so much to me, and I love her so much for it.

  I smile, the sun breaking through the clouds right on cue.

  My life is falling into place. And it will work out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  HANNAH

  I’m aware of my fixed smile for the rest of the day. It only grows as I’m wrapping the framed painting that I’ve sold in bubble wrap. The sale won’t make me rich, it’s just one painting after all—hopefully more soon—but I’m rich on more important things these days. Like peace. And happiness.

  I think about Ryan’s daughter as I tape the edges of the parcel paper. She’s a smart girl. I bet nothing gets past her. And she’s so like Ryan, which I conclude is a good thing after meeting her delightful mother. But though Darcy Hampton rubbed me the wrong way, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I’ve abided women like her before—women who hide behind layers of makeup and designer clothes. Women who exude happiness and confidence, but are empty and lost. I can spot women like that a mile off. After all, I used to be one.

  But no matter how deep my internal traumas, I was never mean. I didn’t raise myself up by lowering others. I never wanted to hurt anyone, even though I had very good reasons to hurt. Instead, I ended up hurting people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. The good people suffered. But it was the only way.

  Since Ryan left earlier, my smile has been fixed, but it wavers and it angers me. I have something genuine and real to smile about for the first time in many years. Something to build hope on. Is it possible I could build a life here? Could I stay in Hampton?

  I ignore the sting in my eyes and the pang of hurt in my gut as I attach the shipping label. Then I close my shop and wander to the post office to send the painting. But before going back home, I head to the store, deciding I need to celebrate my first sale.

  “Hey, Mr. Chaps,” I say as I reach up to grab a bottle of wine.

  He doesn’t look away from stacking one of the freezers, looking at a tub in his hand. “Phish Food,” he mutters, placing a tub on top of another on the shelf. “Never heard of fish eating ice cream.” He takes another tub, and I make my way over, smiling to myself. “Chunky Monkey? What is it, monkey-flavored?”

  When I reach him, I pluck the tub from his hand. Wine and ice cream. That’s my night sorted. “It’s delicious. You should try it.”

  He snorts and goes back to stacking the shelf. “Karamel Sutra? My, my, what is the world coming to?”

  “You more of a vanilla kind of guy?” I ask with a poorly concealed grin that seems to go way over Mr. Chaps’s head, along with my question.

  “Nothing wrong with vanilla.” He creaks up to standing with the help of his walking stick. “It’s my favorite.” He wobbles past me on his way to the checkout, and I turn to follow, but come to an abrupt halt when I find someone blocking my path.

  Alex’s eyes are on my hands, and I look down, quickly re
membering what I’m holding. “Delicious, huh?” she asks, making me shrink on the spot.

  I don’t try to talk my way out of it. Alex is intelligent, and I shouldn’t treat her otherwise. I look past her, searching for Ryan, my tummy fluttering with the onset of butterflies.

  “He’s not here,” she says, opening the freezer door. She then proceeds to load her basket with all the tubs of Chunky Monkey.

  “Stocking up?”

  “Well…” The door swings shut and Alex swings around. “Someone ate my last tub.” She lifts the full basket with both hands, her smile sweet.

  I feel my cheeks burning furiously. What do I say? Did Ryan talk to her yet? And if so, what did he tell her? Does she approve? Does she hate me? Have Ryan and I come to an end before we’ve really begun?

  She nods at the tub I’m holding. “I’ll let you have that one.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble meekly as Alex slinks past me, her face unreadable. “Does your dad know you’re here on your own?” I ask like an idiot, for what reason I couldn’t tell you. Maybe to remind her that she’s a kid and I am not.

  “Seriously, Hannah? I’m ten. I can go to the store without a babysitter.” She dumps her basket on the counter. “How was Monopoly?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Monopoly. Dad said you played Monopoly the other night, right before you ate my Chunky Monkey in the morning. Did you win?”

  I’m in actual physical pain. “Yes.” I cough, and she chuckles, the little minx. I straighten my back, just catching Mr. Chaps wiping the grin from his face.

  “Cool it, Hannah,” Alex says on a sigh. “I’m a woman of the world.”

  Oh, the dear thing. I join her at the counter and place my wine and ice cream down as she loads her shopping bag. “A woman of the world, eh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good for you.”

  She pays for her lifetime supply of ice cream with a credit card, and Mr. Chaps doesn’t bat an eyelid.

  “Your dad’s?” I ask as Alex pulls the card from the machine and slips it into the pocket of her dungarees.