by Kyle Autumn
I won’t stand for it, so I march back into the restaurant to tell her everything she could have read in those letters I wrote her. The whole place can hear about my life and how messed up I am, but by the end, everyone will know how I feel about her. Including her.
The bell rings when I enter again, but this time, I have no problem locating the woman who has my heart. It takes me only a few long strides to reach Jane and Ali, who is just sitting back down at their table. She slouches forward, her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. Jane reaches an arm across the table to show her friend some kindness, but Ali shrugs her away and says something too quietly for me to hear.
When Jane sees me, she does a double take, but then a smile stretches across her face and her eyes go wide. She gestures with her head a few times toward Ali while looking at me, which gives me hope.
So I start talking. “I went into the military when I was eighteen.”
Ali looks up at me, pain and love flashing in her eyes. Something’s brewing inside her head, and I wish she’d just let me in. Whatever it is will be fine if she’ll just tell me. Protectively, she covers her stomach with her hands, but she doesn’t speak. She only listens.
“After four years of that, I started working with your father as his muscle. I did things I’m not proud of, but three years in, I saw my chance at getting out of his grip on me and took it. And I know that ended up hurting you, and it’s selfish to say that I’d do it again if it meant meeting you, though I’d probably do quite a few things differently so you wouldn’t get so hurt.”
She’s still watching me, though tears are shining in her eyes. One falls down her cheek, so I bend to one knee and wipe it with my thumb. Instead of flinching away like I thought she might, she presses her face closer to my hand, like she did once before. Then more tears join the first one in a steadier stream.
“I’m not telling you this to bring up bad memories or make you cry,” I tell her gently.
“It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Keaton,” she explains.
I nod. I get it. And I don’t want her to feel this way because of me. Something makes me look at Jane though, and she urges me to keep talking using her head and her eyes.
Stumbling over my words, I say, “Yeah…but…that doesn’t mean we can’t work through it together, right?” Then I peek over at Jane for approval and receive it in the form of a thumbs-up.
I also see that a bunch of patrons of the restaurant are watching, but I can’t be bothered to care about that.
Ali suddenly pulls away from my hand. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I have to focus on the baby.”
My mouth goes dry. Another glance over at Jane tells me that I need to ask the burning question, the one I almost don’t want the answer to. But probably not why she thinks. With all of these people watching, it doesn’t feel like the time or the place to turn this into a Jerry Springer episode of “the paternity results are in.”
So I simply say, “Okay,” and rise to my feet. “Okay.” Then I leave the restaurant, praying that there’s something I can do to get her to open up to me.
I’ll give her some time. About a week. But that’s all she gets.
Then I’m coming for her.
31
Ali
“Wanna talk about it?” Jane asks in the middle of the movie.
Instead of answering her, I throw a piece of popcorn at her. This is a rare night off, and that’s not how I want to spend it.
“I’m gonna get fat if I keep eating all the food you throw at me,” she says, picking up the piece I threw at her before eating it, apparently not worrying about her figure—not that one french fry and one piece of popcorn will make a person fat. “First, it was the french fries. Now, it’s the popcorn.” She reaches into the bowl for more popcorn. “I’m not taking that as a no. It’s been a little over a week. You haven’t gotten a letter, so you know he’s stopped sending them. What are you doing to do about this now?”
“What I’m going to do is not talk about it with you ever again,” I reply, staring at the TV. And it’s not because I don’t want to take my eyes off a hot Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge. I mean, that’s part of it, but it’s mostly because I can’t trust my best friend anymore.”
Which sucks because she lives with me now.
As soon as she heard what happened, she packed a bag and drove the hour and a half to my place. And she pretty much hasn’t left. Slowly, more and more of her stuff has ended up here, and she used my address when applying for new waitressing jobs. We never really talked about it or made it official, but it felt right. So we went with it.
Now, though, it’s on my last damn nerve. She had no right to do ambush me like that. And for the better part of the week that’s passed since that happened, I haven’t talked to her much. Only in passing, with one-word answers if she asked me a question.
But a girl can’t hold a grudge forever. Or maybe I should start testing my limits.
“Impossible,” she states before picking the popcorn up and standing in front of the TV.
Goddammit. I hate when she’s right.
“If you ever want to see Ewan McGregor again, you have to talk about it.” She wags a finger at me like that helps make her point.
In a way, I guess it kind of does. “Ugh! Fine!” I throw my hands into the air and let them flop back to the couch. “What do you want me to say?”
The curve of her mouth is huge as she claps and prances back over to me. She sits on the couch, crosses her legs, and hits me with her laser-focused gaze. “I want you to tell me why you’re ignoring what you really want and not going after him.”
I don’t want to do this right now. In fact, I don’t want to do it ever. I just want to keep ignoring it, like she says I am. It’s much easier to deal with. Well, it’s not dealing with it at all, and that’s how I want to keep it. I have much bigger things to focus on, like preparing to be a mother in a few months. That’s way more important than pesky feelings about a man I spent a night with. And a day with. And…I don’t want to think about it.
My best friend is going to make me think about it though. “I know you haven’t been honest with me about everything. But you can tell me what’s going on in your head, you know.” She rests her hand on my knee, her warmth assuring me that I can trust her. “I won’t judge. Just get it off your chest.”
“I’ve told you,” I reply, attempting to pull my knees up to my chest and failing hard. There are lots of things bodies can’t do when they’re five months pregnant, and that’s one of them. So I stretch my legs back out and fold them under me. “I can’t focus on a relationship right now.” Then I rest a hand on my belly. “Remember this little one? I do. All the time. That’s where my focus needs to be.”
“And I get that. I really do.” Jane stands and starts pacing the living room floor. “But, at some point, you’re going to have to face this. Because you and I both know it’s not just about not wanting a relationship. That’s a bullshit copout if I’ve ever heard one.” When she pauses her pacing, she looks at me. “So stop lying to me.”
My forehead wrinkles and my eyebrows pinch together. “What has you so worked up?”
“The fact that you’re lying to me!” she screeches. Her hands are balled into fists. “We don’t lie to each other, and I know you have a lot going on with work and the baby, but this isn’t how we operate!” When she’s finished yelling, her eyes glisten with tears.
My goodness. She’s seriously upset about this.
“When all of that shit happened to you, I dropped everything to be here for you.” She approaches the couch again and carefully sits, folding one leg underneath her butt. “And I’m not saying I need repayment or I’m upset about it, but I’m saying that I’m one hundred percent here for you and I’m fucking worried about how you’re handling this. No matter what you’re feeling, you don’t have to hide it from me.” Her sniffles break my heart a little. “So please don’t. Because you know I wouldn’t have convinced him to c
ome see if you if I didn’t think things were serious.”
I take a deep breath in through my nose. I didn’t realize that my friend was this affected by what’s been happening. No, I’ve been self-involved, worried way more about staying healthy for the baby, working hard to save money, and not thinking about Keaton. But working this hard and spending so much energy pushing feelings down aren’t healthy for the baby. In her own way, Jane’s reminding me of that.
Once I’ve released that breath in a big exhale, I say, “Okay.” Then I drag a pillow onto my lap, because if I can’t hug my knees, this is the next best thing.
Her watery smile hits me right in the gut. “Okay. Great. Thank you.”
I keep my gaze on the floor, but I open up to her as I pick at imaginary lint on the pillow. “I fucked up, Jane. That’s all there is to it, and I’d rather pretend like I don’t have the option to make it better.”
She licks her lips and then sucks her bottom one into her mouth. “But he’s seen your…situation now,” she says. “I’m sure he has a lot of questions.”
“He asked a few before I walked away from him—again.” I tuck my hair behind my ears before using the hair tie around my wrist to put my hair up. “But not that one. So I don’t think he cares anyway.”
She scoffs at me. “You and I both know that’s because you didn’t let him. He was trying without coming right out and saying it, but you kept shutting him down, Ali.”
With a grunt of frustration, I throw the pillow onto the floor. “Ugh! I know! Okay? I’m self-sabotaging.” I spin on the couch to face her, throw an elbow over the side of it, and lean. “But our past is also a lot to get over. I can’t just forget what happened, and I don’t want the memories every time I look at him. So what do you want me to do?”
Like a light bulb has gone off in her brain, she sits up straight and beams a smile at me. Then she says, with all the confidence in the world, “I know exactly what you’re going to do.”
32
Keaton
Imagine my surprise when my phone rings on a Friday night and Jane’s name flashes on the screen. Actually, I’m not that shocked. If Ali won’t face her feelings for me, Jane’s the one who’ll make her do it. Maybe she’s ready now.
Or Jane’s calling to tell me to piss off and never talk to either one of them again. It’s a tossup, but I won’t know unless I answer. Honestly, answering the phone is much more entertaining than staring at my blank TV screen right now.
“Hey! Keaton! It’s Jane,” she says when I pick up, sounding out of breath.
“What’s up?” I ask down the line, leaning my elbows on my knees.
“Oh, you know. Not much.” She sounds like she has something up her sleeve. Which is confirmed when she says, “Listen. I was thinking…”
Uh oh. Jane has been very supportive over the last five months, keeping me apprised of all things Ali—obviously minus the major news. She had my phone number when I texted her pretending to be Ali, so she’s kept in touch with me. And I’ve appreciated her willingness to do so. But nothing good ever starts with, “I was thinking…”
“Do I want to know what you’ve been thinking?” I ask tentatively. Though I hope it’ll lead me to Ali. Even if it’s awful, I might do it anyway.
“You absolutely do. I promise. Do you think you can come by Ali’s place?” Jane clears her throat. “She’s ready to see you now.”
With my heart pounding in my throat, I nearly throw my phone onto the couch and head out the door without any shoes on. But I take a deep breath to steady myself and let her know that I’ll be there in thirty minutes—the soonest I can be there.
I knew I shouldn’t have moved so far away. When I wanted to make sure she’d have her space, I was still hoping I’d have a shot. But the half hour seems like an eternity now that the chance is within my grasp.
“Good. That’ll give us some time. Keep your phone on, okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, okay,” I agree right before I hang up, throw some shoes on, and snag my keys from the dish.
Then I’m out the door in a flash.
I ring the doorbell once and then take a step back to wait for her. The flowers I stopped for on the way nearly slip out of my sweaty grip, so I wipe them one at a time on my jeans. This is when I realize I should have changed into something more presentable, but it’s too late now. She won’t base the next fifty years of our life on what I am wearing tonight. Right?
Fuck. I don’t think so, but part of me feels like I shouldn’t have taken the chance.
Jane opens the door and ushers me inside. “She’ll be home in a few minutes,” she says, trying to mask her huge smile. “Beautiful flowers. Good choice.” Then she reaches out to take them from me.
I pull them back toward me. “Wait. She’s not home? I thought you said—”
“I know what I said.” On her second try, she steals the bouquet from my grasp. “But I had to get you over here, and I do know she’ll talk to you. Just…”
“Just what?” I spit out at her, my arms out to my sides. “What’s going on?”
“Just… I have an idea.” She puts the flowers on the kitchen counter and waves a hand so I’ll go with her. “One she doesn’t know about, but one that I think will help her get through some of her mental block she has with you right now.” She opens the door to the basement and gestures for me to go down there.
“What the fuck are we doing, Jane?”
“Just trust me!” She swats at me like we’re participating in a cat fight. Then she starts laughing. “Oh my god. Okay. This is so exciting!” Clapping her hands, she does a little dance before shooing me down the stairs.
I gulp, my heartbeat soaring to outer space. I don’t like where this is going. But if it’s going to lead me to Ali, then I better get comfortable with it. Whatever Jane has planned can’t be worse than anything else I’ve lived through. So I’m going with it.
However, when I reach the bottom of the stairs and see Jane’s idea before my very eyes, I want to tell her no. This is ridiculous and I don’t think it’s going to work. Granted, she knows Ali better than I do, I’m sure. But this feels like the very last thing she would want. And not something I would have thought of myself. Though I don’t think I would have guessed that Ali needed this to get over whatever’s holding her back from being with me.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask Jane without looking at her, unable to take my gaze off what’s in front of me.
“I’m totally sure.” She snakes past me. Then she picks up a piece of rope and holds it in front of her body before pointing to the chair. “Now, get in. We don’t have much time.”
33
Ali
I’m a hot mess when I get back home. Jane better never ask me to do anything like that again. A girl can only take so much, especially when she’s pregnant and hormonal.
Once I’m inside, I kick my shoes off and wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my jacket. When I’ve taken that off, I throw it over the couch and call out to my stupid friend.
“I hate your face! Why would you make me do that?”
Loud footsteps bang up the stairs from the basement. Then Jane peeks her head out of the door and looks around until she finds me. “Hey! How was it?” She closes the door behind her and stands in front of it.
“I’ve been a horrible person,” I admit before a big sniffle.
She stares at me, smiles, and nods rapidly.
Uh… That was not the answer I was expecting. I put my hands on my belly and squint at her. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm!” With her hands behind her, she holds on to the knob of the basement door.
“Okay…” I draw the word out because I don’t believe her for a second. “That’s a big, fat lie.”
“It’s not! I’m fine!” she insists before her arm shoots out and she grabs mine. “But I need you to come with me.”
I’m yanked forward, my free arm flying out to my side to keep me steady. When I find my balance, she lets me go and I
’m intrigued enough to follow her down the steps. But once I reach the bottom, I fear that my friend has lost her ever-loving mind.
“What the fuck, Jane?” I seethe at her through clenched teeth. “Have you gone insane?”
“Nope!” She shakes her head and bounces back up the stairs. “I’m leaving now. Have a great night!”
Just before the door clicks shut, I yell up to her, “You can’t just kidnap a man and tie him to a chair in our basement!”
I don’t think she heard much of that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Because Keaton is tied to a chair in my basement, just like I was in his all those months ago.
“She seems to think this will help you work through whatever’s holding you back from us being together,” he says, calm as can be even though his wrists are bound to the arms of the chair. His feet are also secured to the legs so he can’t move.
But a small voice in my head tells me he doesn’t want to move. This is some kind of poetic justice and he’s on board.
Which I have to admit is kind of sexy. And by kind of, I mean hella. Though that could be my hormones talking.
Nah. That’s all me.
Keaton’s always been sexy to me, though I remember thinking I needed to stay away from him. Perhaps I should have, but I wouldn’t have this moment right here. Or any of the future moments I’ll have. I really do owe him a lot, even if I refused to see it that way before.
“Have you been crying?” he asks, worried about me even though he’s the one tied up.
I fill my lungs as much as I can before speaking. Nodding, I say, “That’s kind of what I do these days.” Then I shrug and point to my belly.
He gives me one nod back, his face the picture of seriousness. “Can we talk about that now?”