by Denise Carbo
No more. I’m done trying to make her accept me. And I’m done always questioning if I’m a good person. Because I am, damn it.
Chapter 27
“The kids are occupied for at least an hour. Start talking.”
I dry my hands on the dishtowel and lean with my back against the sink. “Yes, let’s talk about the kids and how you spoil them.”
Oli shrugs and straddles the chair resting his arms along the back. “It’s an uncle’s prerogative.”
“Remember that when you have kids and I buy them a video game system without discussing it with you first.”
“First, it was a Black Friday deal too good to pass up and I can’t wait until Christmas to give it to them. Second, you know I have no intention of having kids so I don’t have to worry about future retribution from you.”
“You never could wait to give out presents when you bought them.”
“Part of the reason I usually wait until the last minute to do my shopping, but there we were minding our own business at the mall when we saw the sign advertising the incredible deal. What could we do?”
“Tell them to put it on their Christmas list and let Santa decide.”
“Uh huh, you didn’t see their faces.”
Shaking my head, I walk over and sit at the table. Oli stands up and turns the chair around to face me and sits down again.
“You know you say you don’t want kids now, but life has a way of surprising you. Look at me.”
“Which is why I don’t get near a woman without protection even when she insists she has it covered.”
“Ouch.”
“You know I didn’t mean it that way. It wasn’t your fault, Sis. I just mean, I’m not taking any chances.”
“I may not have planned them, but my boys are my life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
“I know, but that’s not what I want to talk about.”
I cross my legs and fold my arms over my waist. “You want to know why Ryan was at Thanksgiving.”
“To begin with, and why Mom is under the impression you’re back together.”
I roll my eyes. “You know Mom, she’s been trying to get us back together from the start.”
“So there’s no truth to it?”
I close my eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
My eyes pop open as Oli stands up and rubs his hands over his face.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it to me because the boys were chattering on about family bowling, going tree shopping together, and Ryan mentioned spending Christmas morning together while we were watching the game yesterday.”
My mouth opens and closes. Damn it. I really need to talk to Ryan before he does irreparable damage with his loose lips.
“Ryan has asked for us to give it another try, but I haven’t decided yet. I told him I would consider it, that’s all.”
“Why didn’t you say no right off the bat? What’s there to think about?”
“It’s not that simple. There’re the boys to consider.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to say something asinine like you’re thinking about getting back together for the kids’ sakes.”
“People do it all the time.”
“Seriously, that’s your argument?”
“Keep your voice down.”
He heaves a sigh and holds out his arms. “Do you love him?”
“Of course I do, he’s the father of my boys.”
“That’s not what I mean. Would you love him if you didn’t have the boys?”
“That’s an impossible question to answer. I don’t know.”
“It’s not impossible and your answer should tell you something. What about the neighbor?” He tilts his head to the side.
“What about him?”
“I thought you had something going with him?”
“Yeah well, I think you were right about him and his sister-in-law. Turns out they dated before she met the brother.”
“Sorry Sis.”
I shrug.
Oli straddles the chair again. “You can’t get back together with Ryan just because you think it will make the kids happy.”
“I didn’t say I was. I only promised to think about it. He shocked the hell out of me, okay?”
“How was dinner at his parents’ house yesterday?”
I frown and roll my eyes. “His mother invited his newly single ex-girlfriend and her parents over. She told Ryan point blank to spend time with Alice.”
“Jesus, and what did Ryan say?”
“He gave excuses including the one about going Christmas tree shopping together which was news to me.”
“How did the ex act? She interested in Ryan?”
I rub my forehead with my palms. “I don’t know. She wasn’t blatant about it if she is, but her parents and Ryan’s couldn’t stop reminiscing over the two of them and how inseparable they were.”
“What’s she look like?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Is she hot?”
“Again, your point?”
“That’s a yes.”
“Fine, yes, she’s beautiful. Her mahogany brown hair was expertly styled with not a single stray hair out of place. Her skin looked like a porcelain doll’s. She wore charcoal gray wool slacks with a white sweater cardigan. She looked like she stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine.”
“Stuck up?”
I rest my head on the back of my chair. “No, she got down on the floor and played with the boys and the dog. She was nice.” She even chatted with me about working at the bakery and her job as a marketing consultant. When the conversation turned to reminiscing, she tried to include me.
“Jealous?”
“Only of the way Ryan’s parents fawned over her. Nothing I ever did made them like me.”
“You want to marry back into that? You think they’ll treat you any differently?”
I angle my head to meet his gaze.
“His mother would probably hire a hitman to take me out.”
Oli chuckles. “She’s a fierce woman, but I don’t think she would take it that far.”
“Probably not, but I have no delusions of her welcoming me with open arms.” There’s no point telling him what she said to me about nothing ever being enough for me. It would make him mad and I wouldn’t put it past him to confront her over it and give her an earful of what he thinks of her precious son. I don’t need any more bad feelings between us.
“Why do you think Ryan suddenly wants to reconcile?”
“He’s up for a promotion. It would mean moving to Boston. He wants us to go as a family.”
“What about your life here? Your job at the bakery, friends, kids’ friends, family, this house? He just expects you to pick up and go?”
“At least I’d be closer to you.”
“As much as I’d like that, I don’t want you to up heave your life or settle for less than what you deserve.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think Ryan is madly in love with you?”
“Geez, thanks a lot, Oli. Is it so hard to imagine someone being madly in love with me?”
“No, that’s my point. You deserve someone who is and someone who you’re madly in love with.”
“So I need to find a guy to fall in love with me and a guy I can fall in love with? A threesome?”
“Ha ha, very funny, smartass.”
“Who’s to say that even exists out there? Have you ever been madly in love?”
“No, but I have no intention of ever marrying unless I do and you shouldn’t either.”
Franny and Mitch appear madly in love. I’d like to have someone stare at me the way Mitch looks at Franny. Or get all giddy over someone like Franny does when she talks about Mitch.
Ryan and I never had a chance to feel that way. We got pregnant and found out we were having twins. The shock of that superseded everything else. Would we
have fallen madly in love if I hadn’t gotten pregnant?
“How about if I promise you that if I don’t believe Ryan truly loves me or I’m not in love with him, I’ll end any chance of reconciliation?”
“Okay, and how are you going to decide?”
“I’m not sure yet. He just sprang this on me a little over a week ago and with the holiday and my finals coming up along with my life in general, I haven’t had time to really consider the situation. You’re right though, I won’t say yes just for the kids’ sake. It has to be because we’re in love with one another too.”
I don’t want to feel second best for the rest of my life. I want to be loved for me. I want to be someone’s first choice. Their only choice.
Chapter 28
Luke’s house is dark again. It’s been that way every night this week. It’s not like I’m spying on him or anything, but I’ve noticed when I’ve come home from work and while I’m in the kitchen or in my room.
Should I check on him? Just because we’re no longer dating doesn’t mean we can’t eventually be friends. He’s still my neighbor. What if something happened to him?
He could have gone on vacation.
I get out of my car and go inside. It’s not any of my business. The kids are at a sleepover. I have the house to myself. I even bought a bottle of wine and brought home a cupcake from the bakery to treat myself.
What if he’s sick or dying?
The last time I thought something was wrong and went to check on him he bit my head off. Now he’s already mad with me. I’d have to be a glutton for punishment to go over there.
After putting the wine in the fridge and the bakery box on the counter, I walk over and stare out the window at his house. I’ll call. If he answers I’ll explain I’m being neighborly and checking in on him.
I dial his number and listen to it ring. An automated voice comes on stating he isn’t available and to leave a message. Should I hang up? He’ll see I called anyway.
The same voice announces the mailbox is full.
Crap!
Is he hurt and not answering his phone so his voicemail is full?
I grab my coat off the peg by the front door and stuff my arms into the sleeves. I’ll never be able to relax until I check. I slip my phone into my pants’ pocket and walk out the front door.
There’s over a foot of snow on the ground so I have to walk down to the street and up his driveway. My toes are already freezing in the flats I wore to work by the time I raise my hand and ring his doorbell. I didn’t dress for a traipse down the road in the cold. My pants are thin and the wind blasts against my legs. I wrap my coat tighter around me and press the bell again and listen to it ring inside the house. Odds are he’s not home, not inside hurt.
There’s snow in front of the garage. He hasn’t used his new snowblower to clear it for at least a few days. Only my steps mark the path to his door and the snow coating my shoes and feet attest to the fact no one has been here or shoveled the steps or path.
My feet are turning numb.
I’ll call Barbara and ask her. It doesn’t rank high on my list of fun things to do tonight, but I’ll rest easier knowing he’s not in there dying. I turn to walk down the steps. Glass shattering comes from inside.
I swing back to face the door. Should I dial nine-one-one?
I ring the doorbell again and pound on the door. “Luke?”
Damn it, if he doesn’t answer I’m calling the police. I pull out my phone and press the button to turn it on and bring up the keyboard.
I dial nine and then one. The door swings open. Luke stands there glowering. His hair is plastered to his forehead. His wrinkled clothes look like he slept in them—for a week. The smell hits me then. Alcohol.
Luke has been drinking. He told me he doesn’t drink.
Without a word, he wanders down the hallway and disappears around the corner. He left the door open. I guess I should be thankful he didn’t shut it in my face. Am I supposed to follow him?
I glance around at the darkened snow-covered landscape behind me. It’s freezing and I need to warm up my feet before I lose a toe or two to frostbite. The heat from inside the house drifts out to taunt me. I step inside and close the door behind me.
There’s a jumble of shoes inside the door including work boots, sneakers, and a pair of slippers. Pay dirt. They’re going on my feet. I slip off my flats and brush the remaining snow off my frozen ankles. Thick plaid material lines the tan slippers. I slip my feet inside and pad down the hallway to find Luke.
He’s slouching on a brown couch below the wall of weapons I once wondered if he used in his role as a serial killer. His eyes are closed and his head rests on the back of the couch. There’s an open bottle of vodka on the rustic wooden coffee table in front of him. It’s empty. Broken pieces of glass litter the floor next to the table.
I glance behind me into the kitchen. Dishes fill the sink. Rows of empty beer bottles sit on the gray and black speckled granite counter next to a pizza box. Stale food and alcohol linger in the air. If it wasn’t so cold out, I’d crack open a window.
There’s a magazine on the table. I grab it and carefully pluck the broken glass off the floor and use the magazine to carry it into the kitchen. I open the white cabinet under the sink hoping to find a garbage can. A trio of trash cans reside in the cabinet. He recycles. I toss in the broken glass and then grab the empty beer bottles and add them too.
Luke doesn’t make a sound or move even when I retrieve the vodka bottle from in front of him. I open the pizza box. A few pieces of stale pizza remain. I throw them in the garbage and fold the box to fit into one of the cans.
“That’s still good.” He frowns. “Possibly. What day is it anyway?”
“Friday.”
“Oh, well then probably not.”
I open the dishwasher and load the dishes.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
The sting from my feet thawing makes me wince. I spot a coffee maker on the counter and open cabinets until I locate the coffee and clean mugs. While it brews, I finish loading the dishes, put detergent in, and turn it on.
A peek in the fridge doesn’t produce any milk or cream so we’re both having our coffee black. I only want it for the warmth anyway.
I stand in front of him holding out the coffee until he slits open his eyes, sits up, and takes the mug from me. I sit in the corner of the couch and pull up my feet with the mug cradled in my hands. Luke stares at the slippers next to him. He glances over to me.
“Yes, they’re yours. My feet are freezing. I’m not taking them off. Deal with it.”
He pulls the slippers off and drags my feet onto his lap with one hand. He lifts his black sweatshirt and places my feet against the warmth of his abdomen.
“Holy shit! They’re like icicles.” The coffee sloshes over the rim of his mug onto his hand. He holds the mug up in the air and swears an impressive length of expletives while holding my feet against him with his other hand.
I bite my lip and then blow over the top of my coffee. I wiggle my toes against his stomach. His skin is toasty. He winces and sips his coffee.
“Did you come here barefoot or something?”
“No, I was wearing the flats I wore at work. There’s snow covering your driveway and walk.”
He grunts and rests his head back against the couch. “What are you doing here?”
“Your lights have been off for days. You didn’t answer the phone. Your voicemail is full. My conscious got the best of me and I wanted to make sure you were alive. I was dialing nine-one-one when you finally opened the door.”
We sit in silence while my body warms from the coffee and his body heat. He finishes his drink and leans forward to place it on the table.
“How was your Thanksgiving?”
He shrugs. “Fine. Yours?”
“Fine.”
“Glad we got that out of the way.”
I chuckle. “You want to tell me
what’s going on?”
Luke puts my feet off his lap and stands. He walks over to a chest against the wall and pulls out a red cable knit blanket. After covering me with it, he sits and lifts my feet back on to his lap.
“It was the anniversary of Wyatt’s death two days ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
I put my empty mug on the table and put my hands under the blanket. “You’ve been here drinking for two days?”
“Three actually. I started the day before.”
“Is this typically how you spend the anniversary of his death?”
He swivels his head on the coach to look at me. “I haven’t had a drink since the day he died.”
“Why now?”
“I don’t know. I flew down to see my parents on the day after Thanksgiving. I spent the weekend with them. They’re still grieving hard for him. I went so far as to list his car for sale online thinking it might help. I took it down a few minutes later.”
“The car in the garage?”
“Yeah, it’s the car he was driving that night. Wyatt loved that car. It wasn’t much more than a hunk of junk when he bought it. We worked on it together for over a year before it was restored and street ready. After the crash, I bought it from the salvage yard and fixed it up. I thought I would save it for Joey to have someday. It’s stupid, why would he want the car his father died in?”
“Hard to answer that one. It could go either way. He might have a sentimental attachment to the car like you obviously do if he knows how much the car meant to Wyatt or he might resent it. How does Barbara feel about it? My guess is Joey’s reaction will depend on yours and hers.”
“She doesn’t know I have it.”
“Oh.”
“I was drunk. He wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t called him to come get me so I wouldn’t drive.”
“Is that why you blame yourself?”
“It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. You weren’t driving the car that smashed into you both. You had no idea what would happen. I’m sure no one blames you.”
“No one says it out loud.”
“Luke…”