by Jewel E. Ann
“Mmm … yes.” She turns away from me again, shifting her attention to the kids playing Frisbee.
“Gracelyn, I’m not good at guessing games. Just say it. I don’t know what I did.”
“Listen, this has nowhere to go anyway. You’re leaving in under two months, and I’m done with men. So while the kiss was nice—well, maybe more than nice—and the flirting and goofy wager over seeing my tattoos was fun, it’s time for a reality check.”
“O—kay. And what reality check is that?”
“I’m not your wife.”
My head jolts back. “What are you talking about? What does Jenna have to do with this?”
“This attraction started because my hair reminded you of her when you two first met. You always stare at my hair before you look at my eyes or anything else, but just now … you looked at my face and my dress, then you looked at my hair for less than a second. And the disappointment on your face was so obvious. I’m no longer her. Which…” she runs her hands through her orangey hair “…is the reason I changed the color. I deal with enough ghosts in my life. The last thing I need is to be the ghost of your dead wife.”
I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. There are no words. Should I be apologetic? Angry? I honestly don’t know because I didn’t see this coming. It’s impossible to make sense of everything she just said. “I … I fear you misunderstood—”
“It’s fine, Nathaniel.”
Now it’s Nathaniel. She’s definitely upset.
“It’s okay to hold on to her. It’s okay if you never really move on. It’s okay if you never find that kind of love again because she was the one, and no one else will ever come close. Take some sage advice from someone who knows … threesomes don’t work. If your heart can’t let go, then you will take her with you into every new relationship. And even though she’s dead and no one can see her … they will feel her.”
It’s clear now. The man who left her at the altar must have lost someone. And he couldn’t let that someone go. That’s the look she saw in his eyes before he skipped out on her.
“I’m sorry,” I say with complete sincerity. “I think I read into all of this wrong. After years of moving from one place to another, making friends, leaving friends, but living in the moment with Morgan, I assumed we—you and I—could have this moment. A fun moment that felt emotionally safe because we both knew there would be no expectations at the end of summer.”
I sigh, redirecting my focus to the kids on the beach since Gracelyn won’t look at me. “I don’t have huge cliffs to dive off of in Madison, but I seized the moment when I had the opportunity. I wanted to make the memory. Morgan and I have experienced so much that we will likely never experience again. And as much as we miss some of those experiences and people we’ve met along the way, there’s no regret.” I stand, stepping away from the swing, keeping my back to her. “I kissed you, Gracelyn Glock. And I did it without regret. I did it without thinking of Jenna.”
Descending the few steps, I return to my deck and take a seat to watch the kids. I had no idea Gracelyn was so emotionally trapped in her past.
*
The next morning, I wake with some clarity. If I’m completely honest, the resemblance to Jenna was almost spooky when I first met Gracelyn. I’ve seen other women with traits that reminded me of Jenna. It doesn’t change the fact that I kissed Gracelyn, not a ghost of my wife.
It also doesn’t change the current situation. We’re leaving in less than two months, and Gracelyn has her plate full with Gabe, the loss of his parents, her new role in life, and a past that includes misfortune with love.
“Daaad!” My favorite alarm sounds just as I finish putting on my jogging shorts and tee.
“Mooorgan!” I call from the bathroom as I apply deodorant.
“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” She bounces into the room ready to explode with excitement. “Hunter and Mr. Hans are downstairs. She wasn’t supposed to tell me this because Mr. Hans wants to discuss it with you first, but she did. And now you have to promise to say yes. You have to say yes, or I will never forgive you.”
Narrowing my eyes at her complete insanity, I nod my head toward the door. “They’re downstairs right now?”
“Yes.”
I move toward the door.
“No. Stop! Just let me tell you first.”
I frown. “Make it quick.”
She blows out a slow breath, her hands gripping both of my arms as she peers up at me. “Mr. Hans and Hunter are meeting her parents at Disneyland. They’re renting a place for four days and doing all the fun stuff at the parks! And Mr. Hans said Gabe and I are invited too! Oh my gosh! PLEASE say yes! You HAVE to say yes!”
“Morgan—”
“Daaad! PLEASE!” She drops to her knees and folds her hands in front of her. I have seen many sides to my daughter, but this level of begging and complete desperation is new.
In ten years, I’ve been away from her overnight just once. I left her with her nanny while I went to a conference, but I trusted her nanny completely. And they were confined to the house. Disneyland with Mr. Hans and Hunter’s parents, whom I have not met, is a much different scenario.
“While you pick up the pieces of your crumbled self, I’m going downstairs to talk to Mr. Hans.” I take a step toward the door, and she dives for my leg, wrapping her arms around it.
Who is this girl?
I keep moving with her attached to my leg. She releases me when we get to the stairs, hot on my heels as I descend them to a smiling Hunter and Mr. Hans waiting in the entry.
“Good morning.” I return a smile. “So I hear there’s been a grand invitation to Disneyland?”
Mr. Hans chuckles. “Yes. My hearing isn’t the best, but I heard Morgan giving you the details.”
I nod slowly, shooting Morgan a quick glance. Her face is red, her nose scrunched, like this is torture.
“We’re leaving this afternoon. I know it’s short notice, but when Hunter’s parents decided to rent a place that houses six, she was quick to do the math and ask me if Morgan and Gabe could come too since Morgan has apparently never been?” He furrows his brow as if he can’t believe that’s true.
“No. She hasn’t seen Disney.” I refrain from mentioning all the wonders of the world that she has seen that are a million times better than Disney.
“Well, we’d love for her to come, but only if you’re comfortable with it. I’m not trying to pressure you.”
“Is Gabe going?”
“Gracelyn said if Morgan goes, he can go,” Hunter says, tightening her long, blond ponytail.
Great. Now Gabe’s fun fate is all on me too. How kind of Gracelyn to drop this decision in my lap.
“Well, I need to take a jog and clear my head before making this decision.”
“Gracelyn leaves for work at noon, so you have to make your decision before she leaves.” Hunter grimaces as she sets the countdown clock.
I glance at my watch. “It’s eight. I’ll be back by nine and make my decision by ten. Does that work for everyone?”
Mr. Hans chuckles, resting his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “That’s fine. And it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it. We’ll find plenty of other fun stuff to do later if Hunter comes back to visit.”
“It’s not okay,” Morgan mumbles beside me.
“Enjoy your jog. Let’s go, Hunter. How do pancakes sound today?”
“With blueberries like Grandma used to make?”
“I’ll see what I can come up with.” He leads her out the door.
As soon as they’re at the bottom of the deck stairs, I reach for my running shoes.
“It’s going to be no, isn’t it? It’s always no. You never want me to do anything without you. You’re always worried that something will happen to me.”
“You mean, I love you,” I mumble back to her as I finish tying my shoes.
“Why don’t you put me in a fish tank or a bird cage? Why don’t you just lock me in my room?
Then you don’t have to worry about me making friends or scraping my knee or kissing a boy. You don’t have to worry about me falling in love, getting married, and dying like Mom did.”
“Morgan …” I turn just as she runs up the stairs and slams her bedroom door shut.
Perched at the screen door with my hands on each side, I watch the array of seabirds flock to the shore, squawking and pecking at each other and the scraps of food and trash that have littered parts of the shoreline. I think of how hard I worked to make it through school, to become a professor … how hard I worked to convince Jenna that she should date me. I think of how long we waited to have Morgan because we wanted to be ready. We waited for the “perfect” moment.
Then I think of Jenna dying. I think of my best friend dying tragically before I ever reached the age of reason. I think of everything I’ve tried to control in my life and where it’s gotten me. If I wanted to keep Morgan in a glass box, I wouldn’t have packed our bags and set out to conquer the world.
Nothing can be given without letting go.
I knock on her door several times before slowly opening it. Morgan quickly wipes her face and hangs her legs off the opposite side of her bed, giving me her back and two cold shoulders.
They could get in a fatal car accident on their way to Disneyland. Someone could take her if she gets too curious and wanders off on her own. A ride could break and kill her. She could get food poisoning, homesick, a flesh-eating fungus from a swimming pool … or a million other things that terrify me.
Or … she could feel the rush of a roller coaster. She could be dazzled by princesses and incredible fireworks displays. She could get her face painted and eat Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes with her new friends. She could gain a sense of confidence away from me. She could spread her beautiful wings.
“I don’t know if the place they’re renting will have a washer and dryer, so pack enough underwear.”
Morgan whips around, mouth in the shape of an O on a huge gasp. “I can go?”
I nod once. Before I can take a breath, she’s in my arms, hugging me so hard it nearly squeezes tears from my eyes. “Daddy … thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I love you sooo much. You are the best dad ever!”
“Can I get that in writing?”
She pulls away.
I wipe her residual tears. “I’m going to give you a mile-long list of warnings and precautions I want you to take. You’ve heard them all before, but you have to let me say them again anyway.”
“Absolutely. I’ll pack and you do your dad thing.” She retrieves her bag from under her bed.
I love this girl. She’s my world. My hands will release her … set her free. But my heart can’t let go, which means she will rip it from my chest and carry it with her forever. And I will wait for her to return … for my heart to return.
She packs. I preach.
Then she runs next door to tell Gabe to pack his bag too.
I. Am. A. Wreck.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gracelyn
He let her go.
I never expected Nate to let Morgan go. His shocking decision meant I had to let Gabe go too. I have no idea if Kyle and Emily would have said yes. Brother Dearest is probably looking down on me, tsking me at this very moment.
I set my microwave dinner on the table and pour a glass of wine. If I’m going to be irresponsible, I might as well go all out. Silence haunts me. I forgot what it’s like to eat alone … to be alone.
Even when Gabe goes to a friend’s house, Mr. Hans is here. I should embrace this moment, but it’s oddly depressing. However, it’s not a foreign feeling. I’m no stranger to loneliness. After my wedding debacle, I embraced it.
Surely I can handle four days of my old life.
After dinner, I take a walk along the beach, curling my toes in the damp sand while the harmonious waves of the tide crawl into the shore. Turning around, a mile or so down the coastline, I make my way back before the sun extinguishes for the night. I step onto the boardwalk and brush the sand from my feet, the creak of a board brings my gaze up.
Nate tips back a bottle of beer, eyeing me from the chair on his deck. I brush my hands together and make my way to the bottom of his stairs.
“You let her go.”
Resting the bottle on the arm of the chair, he nods. “I let her go.” He sounds … different. Monotone. Depressed.
While I, too, fretted over the decision, hence the reason I passed it off onto him, I think—I hope—it was the right one. I messaged my parents about it, of course, after he already left. They agreed it was the right thing to do.
I consider sharing this somewhat comforting information with Nate, but I’m not sure he’s ready to hear it. “Night.” I offer a tiny smile and head home to finish my bottle of wine and binge on Jamie—I mean—Outlander.
Popcorn.
Wine.
Bra off.
Jamie on.
By the end of the second episode, my wine is gone, my cheeks are flushed, and I’m feeling super relaxed.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock …
The knocking continues at a slow but steady pace, like a drunk woodpecker.
“What … is … it?” I say to no one as I take the stairs slowly, like I’m drunk, but I’m not. I’m just … super relaxed.
No shits left to give.
I giggle at my squirrel brain. Then I giggle at my brain calling itself squirrel brain. Finally, I open the door with one hand while I hold what is now just the bottle of wine in my other hand.
“Nathaniel.” I smile. It feels like a good smile. At least I think I can still feel my smile.
He doesn’t look at my hair. Nope. He starts at my bare feet and works his way up my body—naked legs, fringed-edged denim booty shorts, and a black tank top. Then he fixes his gaze on my hair. Figures.
“Nope. Sorry. I’m still a redhead. Not your dead wife.” I bite my lips together. Did I just say dead wife? Surely not. I continue, “Is that all you wanted?”
He narrows his eyes and cocks his head.
Enough with my hair already!
“What is that?” He reaches for the top of my head but stumbles over the threshold.
I grab his torso to steady him, but it makes me wobble a bit. Is he drunk? How irresponsible of him.
“What is what?”
Nate makes a second attempt to reach for the top of my head.
“Ouch!” My hand tries to stop him, but it’s too late.
He chuckles, dangling my bra between us with several of my hairs stuck to the hook. “Your bra was hanging from your hair.” He laughs a little more.
Yeah, he’s intoxicated.
I snatch it from his hand and hide it behind my back … like he didn’t just see it. I wrangled the murderous thing off during the first episode of Outlander and tossed it over my shoulder. It must have snagged on my hair.
“Are you drunk?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not drunk. Not sober enough to drive, but not drunk. You?” He grabs my wrist and lifts my hand, the one holding the bottle of wine.
“I’m not drunk. I’m just relaxed.”
“I miss Morgan already.” He frowns. It’s an adorable frown. The really relaxed version of me wants to kiss it right off his face.
“And I can’t check in with her because she doesn’t have a phone because I’m a paranoid asshole dad who dreamed too big for reality.”
“Want me to text Gabe to get an update?” I lift the bottle to my mouth and lean clear back. Shit … it’s empty. I glance over at the chair, just inside the living room, and make the terrible decision to toss the bottle onto the chair.
Crash!
It doesn’t make it. Instead, it shatters on the tiled floor.
“Smooth …” Nate lifts his eyebrows, studying the mess on the floor. “I think you cracked the tile.”
“Oops. Shit.” I cringe. “Welp,” I sigh. “Good thing I know where the broom and dustpan are.
” I make a wide turn to avoid the broken glass with my bare feet and grab the broom and dustpan from the garage.
“I feel like I just helped you clean up a mess on this floor.”
“You did.” I sweep up the mess and squat next to Nate, who’s holding the dustpan again to collect it.
He lifts his head, putting our faces a breath apart. “I don’t think you’re Jenna,” he whispers. “I didn’t kiss her that day in the kitchen.”
My lips rub together, remembering that kiss.
“I don’t have the emotional capacity to fall in love with you,” I say, staring at his mouth for a second before dragging my already sluggish gaze to his eyes. “And I just don’t want to. Love hurts too much.”
“Then don’t.” He closes the tiny space and kisses me.
I drop the broom. He drops the dustpan.
Nate’s hands frame my face, guiding me to standing while deepening the kiss. Afraid of the mess gathered at our feet, I break the kiss and glance down. He hooks his arm around my waist and lifts me up, taking a big step into the living room with its beige carpet and a blanket covered sofa.
He sits on it, positioning me to straddle his lap. I grin a second before kissing him. His hands settle on my hips for a long kiss. When I hum into it, he moves his hands to my ass, scooting me closer to him. Squirrel brain makes an attempt to focus on not dry humping my neighbor. It’s just a kiss. We knew there would be a second kiss.
It’s a really great second kiss. Technically, it’s a third kiss, but since the glass disrupted the second kiss, I’m declaring this Kiss 2.1.
Kiss 2.1 is better than the original second kiss. Maybe it’s his exploring tongue or his hands gripping my ass. Maybe it’s my braless nipples hard and rubbing against his chest. But most likely, it’s his erection pressed between my legs.
Do. Not. Dry. Hump. Him!
Squirrel brain knows what she’s talking about.
I lift on to my knees to get a better angle—just at his mouth.
“Ouch!” I pull back.
Nate eases his grip on me. “What? I’m sorry. Did I do something?”
Leaning to the right, I pull my left leg up to look at my knee. Something sharp cut into it.