“You don’t leave my side again. If your daughter needs the bathroom, you take her. You’re her mother. Understood?”
“Yes.” My eyes flit to the movement in the semi-open doorway, and Carl knows we’re being watched, because his grasp loosens slightly as he cups my jaw and presses his lips to mine.
The bitterly spiced fruit tang of his favorite cognac invades my mouth, the smell making my stomach turn with a dull ache as he licks his tongue over mine. I never enjoyed the feel of tongue kisses, and now, I hate it even more.
“Where’s my mommy, Dominic?” Iris’s voice sounds right outside the room, and I’m glad that it’s enough to get Carl to pull away.
He’s wiping my lips with his thumb when Iris walks in, opening the door wide enough that both Dom and Priscilla are visible. I know they’re not stupid, but I’m hoping that they won’t make a thing of this. It’s not as bad as it looks and…
“Let’s go.” Carl takes my hand the second Iris is holding on to me and walks us back to the flurry of guests.
I’m not sure how long I spend glued to Carl’s side, smiling and thanking people for coming. The hours seem never-ending as I get ushered around the house, trying to drown out the memories that ghost around me so that I don’t fall apart.
By the time everyone leaves, I’m numb. Everything is a blur as I carry Iris to the sitting room and lay her on the couch.
Carl is on the phone somewhere inside the house as I walk Priscilla and Dominic to the front door. They’re the last to leave.
“I worry about you.” Priscilla hugs me to her.
“Mom…”
“I know, I know.” Pulling back, she smiles at me. “You know where I am.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Dominic adds, dropping his hand before he touches me.
Carl’s irate voice comes from the end of the house as he walks in from the terrace. He’s headed straight toward us.
“If you need anything…”
“I know.”
It’s obvious he’s about to say something else, but he stops himself when Carl comes to stand beside me. The closeness prickles my skin in such a way that my toes curl in my pumps and my chest constricts uncomfortably.
“See you soon, darling.”
“Bye.” I wave at them as they start for the town car waiting at the edge of the steps to the house.
Today has been exhausting and painful, and yet, I know it’s nowhere close to done when Carl takes me back inside.
Chapter Two
GARRETT
“How’s the stalker?”
“Jesus!” I turn so fucking fast that I spill half of my coffee down my shirt. It’s too early for this shit, and Mark knows it with the way he’s standing in my kitchen doorway with a smug grin on his face. “You ever gonna knock?”
“You ever gonna lock the door and make use of the alarm system?”
“I wouldn’t need to lock it if you didn’t keep breaking in.” I drink what’s left of my double espresso and put another pod in the Keurig.
“Listen.” He blows out a sniggering breath, throwing another pod next to the machine as he pulls out a barstool and makes himself at home. “I’m not the one with a crazy stalker ex. Besides, it’s not really breaking and entering if it’s my house.”
“Was yours. It’s mine now.”
“I had it first.” He shrugs, looking around at the freshly decorated interior.
“Trix isn’t an ex, and she’s hardly a stalker—she just got too attached. In hindsight, I should’ve stuck with the one and done.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course, one and done.” Mark does a fair copycat of his wife’s “whatever” expression. “Isn’t that getting old? Aren’t you getting too old for it?”
Pot, meet kettle. Mark may have settled down now, but he wasn’t exactly a saint before Charlie and the kids. He seems to forget that sometimes, normally when he’s trying to guilt-trip me into something.
“What do you want, Mark?” I hand him the fresh coffee and make myself another.
“My twenty dollars,” he smirks.
“Are you ever going to get over it? Pamela Anderson was never that hot.”
“She was a babe and so your type.” He holds his hands out over his chest and pretends to grope invisible tits. “Worth so much more than Mom’s cookies.”
He brings this shit up almost every time we see each other, playing more on it when he wants me to feel bad enough that I’ll entertain whatever favor he’s about to ask. He’s an asshole like that.
“Whatever you’re after, I’m not doing it. I don’t have time.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you yet! Besides, you can’t be that busy. The ones and dones in this town must be in short supply by now.”
“Still no,” I tell him blankly and head to the bedroom to change.
I’m stripping out of my shirt when he walks in and sits on my bed. He’s never had boundaries. Mark has his own crazy rhythm that he dances along to. I’m not sure how Jackson puts up with having him as a business partner at their private security firm. Maybe they balance each other out because where Mark is a funny asshole, Jackson is a broody motherfucker.
“Get the fuck out of my room!”
“You realize I used to shit in your bathwater, right?”
“You realize we’re not three anymore, right?”
“Touché.” He salutes and goes to stand right outside my doorway, still looking around as though he’s assessing the new look of the place. “I need to head to Cali this weekend to go over some business with Jackson. Charlie and the kids are going to spend some time with Priscilla before she decides to come stay indefinitely again.”
“Yeah, I don’t recall that working out well for you last time.”
He gives a nice big “fuck you” sneer before he carries on. “I didn’t want to leave Josie with no one to help her see to the ranch.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I’ll never hesitate to help out when it comes to Jo. Her husband, Duke, sold me half of his practice here in Virginia Beach when I relocated from New York after my divorce almost ten years ago. I’d just sold my own due to the settlement; it meant a lot that he trusted me to come in and modernize the business. Of course, at the time I had no idea that he’d been diagnosed with an aggressive and rare form of brain cancer. We signed the papers in October, and he passed the following May.
When he died, he left me his half of the business. Although I didn’t want it at first—it didn’t feel right to take something that should belong to Jo—she refused to sign all the shares I tried to put into her name or accept any of the checks I gave her. Instead of pushing and pressing about it, I started helping her out around the ranch, and I still do. She’s stuck with me and Mark whether she likes it or not. Besides, his kids love her and all the animals.
“You said something about a clinical trial last month?” he asks, following me back to the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s worth a shot. It might help slow down her symptoms at best if we can’t reverse the damage. But Jo’s refusing to talk to me about it.”
“Is it worth getting Charlie on the case?” He gives me his secret-weapon grin he reserves for whenever he sends his wife to handle a difficulty.
“I can’t see the harm in it.” I shoot back my coffee in a couple of gulps and rinse out both of our cups before putting them in the dishwasher and heading out. “I need to get to the office early today. I have a meeting with a potential partner for the practice.”
“Another one? Everything all right?” Mark asks, getting in his truck that he’s parked beside my SUV.
“Yeah, just need to evolve to keep things profitable. It’s great having Prescott, but he’s still Cardio. I’m thinking of bringing in a pediatrics specialist, and this guy I’m talking to today has a great reputation. He did this unicorn procedure on a newborn, and it’s become the talk of the industry.”
“Sounds like you’re busy.”
“I sure am.” I start the car and open the
window so we can finish the conversation. “Surf tomorrow morning?”
“Fuck yeah,” he sings as he begins to reverse out of my drive. “Laters, asshole.”
“Ciao, dickhead.” I’m pulling out and turning to go the opposite direction when he calls, “You should talk to Ashton about the baby-making business. That’s her thing, and if you’re looking to expand…”
He drives off with a wave out of his window that’s partly a sloppy salute.
Of course he would start making suggestions. It’s Mark—he likes being into everything. It’s why he’s good at what he does; he makes things his business and doesn’t relent until he’s made them his bitch. But baby making isn’t my business. I’m interviewing a specialized pediatric cardiologist, not a fertility specialist.
The whole mention of fertility makes me shudder. My history with it is tainted, and it’s not something I’ll ever want to go near again. Personally or professionally.
My thing is hearts, and I want to keep it that way. After all, I’ve got to level the karma out by fixing as many hearts as I break.
The ranch is quiet as I cruise up the long stretch of driveway to the house. None of the dogs are running around, and the horses are all out in the field to the back of the stables on one side while the chickens are out in the sun. The rooster is sitting on his perch watching the hens clucking around. They should be having chicks soon.
Parking behind Jo’s cherry-red 1948 Ford pickup, I grab the pharmacy bag with her prescription. She can’t drive herself around now that she’s started to have severe muscle spasms and her coordination is failing her. Parkinson’s has taken away so much of the independence she loves, and I’m determined to help her get some of it back or at least slow down any more deterioration.
The two younger German shepherds come bounding toward me from the direction of the apple orchard. With the heat, any fruit that’s fallen off the trees goes bad pretty quickly. Jo’s probably out there cleaning it up.
“All right, guys, I missed you too.” I crouch and fuss over them so they stop jumping up at me. Breeze is the newest addition. She’s a little over one year old and is still full of energy, something she’s not all that aware about. Ship, on the other hand, is a couple of years older. Although he’s playful, he knows how to rein himself in. “You want treats?”
Breeze starts howling the minute I pull the Ziplock bag out of my pocket. She has a thing for carrots.
“Where’s Jo?” I hold out two chunks as I ask the question, and before either one of the two dogs takes theirs, they bound to the top of the porch and back for the treat, letting me know that she’s in the house.
It’s odd because all four shepherds are practically glued to Jo’s side. They go where she goes without fail.
When I head up the porch steps, the two of them run back in the direction of the orchard while I go inside.
Although the outside of the house is a traditional federal farmhouse style, the interior is all open plan with large glass concertina doors at the back that are left open to the porch overlooking the large lake out back.
“What are you doing here today?” Josie asks from the kitchen; she’s got her apron on and a few pies in front of her that need to be covered.
“I got your meds, and I figured I’d stay with you this weekend since Mark and Charlie aren’t around.”
By the time I’ve toed off my boots and made a fuss of Wave, who comes to greet me for her share of the carrot, Jo has already poured me a glass of her homemade apple cider.
“You don’t need to do that. Don’t you have a life? A nice girl to romance or…I don’t know…don’t you have shit to do with yourself?”
She has a habit of fluffing her graying auburn hair when she’s trying to divert the conversation, a habit that I’m not sure she’s aware of. As I give her a head-to-toe check to make sure she doesn’t have any new injuries since I was here last weekend, she turns to the sink.
“I have some paperwork to go over, but I can do that here in between shoveling the horse shit and cleaning out the coop.”
“Huh, you still hiding from that psycho sleepover?”
“No. I haven’t seen Trix in over a month. I think she finally got what one night means.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“I wasn’t planning to. I still have a lot of annoying to do here,” I laugh as she sticks her tongue out at me. It used to be her equivalent to flipping me and Mark off when the kids are around, but it’s common practice now.
Nudging her gently to the side, I wash my hands so I can help her finish the pies. Her tremor is noticeably bad today; it’s why she’s slower than normal.
“What are Ship and Breeze doing out in the orchard?” I ask as I lay the strips of pastry over the pie in a loose lattice.
“Cullen spent most of this week training them to basket the fruit on the ground.”
Her eyes instantly go to the photo of Cullen and Makenna on the fridge. She would’ve made a wonderful mom had she and Duke been able to have kids. As always, the thought hits a little too close to home, but I shake it off as quick as I can.
When I’m finished with the pies and they’re in the oven, we sit for a while. The conversation on the Parkinson’s clinical trials that I bring up is immediately shut down. Jo is at the point where she’s tired and the sleep issues she’s having are taking a mental and emotional toll on her.
“I know you don’t want to be poked and prodded. These trials aren’t like that. One of them is all to do with sleep cycles and deep brain stimulation.”
“Doc, I don’t need a cure. I know it’s getting worse and I know what will happen, and I’m okay with that.”
“I’m not okay with that. I’m not okay with giving up.” There’s no way I can let Duke down—he would be disappointed if I didn’t put up a fight on her behalf. I owe him that much.
“My body. My decision.” She levels me with a stern stare.
I watch as she gets up from the dining table and struggles with getting the oven mittens on. Which only serves to make her outlook on the situation even more frustrating. Being a doctor, I know it’s her decision and that any treatment needs to be on her terms. But being her friend—fuck, she’s more than that. Jo is family—I want to keep her as healthy as possible for as long as possible.
I pull the pies out of the oven and lay them out on the side to cool. I don’t know what to say or what to do to change her mind. She’s so stubborn.
“This is why you need someone to focus all of this on,” she tells me, patting my chest. “At some point you’re going to have to let go of the past and embrace what you could still have.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am holding on to the past and all the lessons I learned from my disaster of a marriage. But it’s what’s best. It’s what works for me, and that’s never going to change.
Chapter Three
AVERY
The swimming instructor is really pushing Iris today. We’ve missed the last three lessons and two of the peewee swimmers’ practices, and it’s obvious Heather isn’t happy about it, even if she was understanding when I called.
Iris is still struggling with Dad’s passing—we’re both still struggling, but she’s started having stomach cramps. Something Carl keeps being callous about, but I’m worried enough that I’ve taken her to the doctor a few times. Her pediatrician thinks it’s a coping mechanism. She’s expressing what she’s feeling by putting it into physical context.
They’re practicing relay today, and every time I watch Iris dive in, I shudder with the apprehension that she’ll belly flop. Although I haven’t brought her to the pool, I’ve watched her practice in our own. Her swimming is awesome for a child her age, but the diving confidence still needs a little more work. Something I’m certain she’ll get used to over time.
“Hey, stranger!”
I look up from where I’m sitting in the bleachers to find Kayla standing behind me in one of her power dresses with a double coffee holder in one han
d and her designer purse clutched in the other. We’ve been friends since high school; she’s spunky and vivacious with a sharp mind that is perfectly suited to her fundraising consultant job.
“How’re you doing?” she asks, sitting beside me and handing me our favorite frappe that’s basically black coffee slush with some half-and-half drizzled over the top. “I haven’t seen you since the funeral. I still feel terrible for not being able to be at the wake. The service was beautiful, though.”
My chest constricts at her apology because I’m hurt that she didn’t stay. I needed my friend. I needed someone there that I could lean on without worrying about Carl. Still, there’s no point in saying anything about it or creating a big thing out of it. She’s here now, and I have bigger issues on my mind.
“I’m okay.”
“And my baby?” she asks, searching out Iris’s hot pink swimming cap and waving at her when they spot each other.
“Better. I think the whole angels watching over us talk helped her. I’m trying to get her back to her routine…”
Kayla’s phone rings from her purse, and when she digs it out, I catch the caller ID.
“Carl…” She rolls her eyes as she answers the phone, fussing with her tamed curls. “I’m working on the report, I’ll call you later. Avery says hi.”
Avery does not say hi. Not after last night.
“Why do you look so pissed?”
“I didn’t say hi,” I snap at her even though it’s not her I’m mad at. Hell, I don’t know who to be mad at anymore. All I know is that I’m living in a parallel universe right now.
In one month everything has changed. Dad died, and Carl…I thought something was going on with work, but after the conversation I overheard last night…
“He’s having an affair.”
Kayla scoffs at my statement as though it’s wildly ridiculous, but something’s been off for a long time. “Why do you think that?”
“I’m Avery. I’ve always just been Avery to him.”
Endurance: A Salvation Society Novel Page 2