Just Once

by Addison Fox

  Acid crawled up his throat and back down to his stomach, a rollercoaster of pain.

  “Please give Daphne my apologies, I need to leave.”

  Before she could stop him, Landon had cleared the backyard and let himself out into the back alley.

  Daphne carried Tyler over her shoulder fireman-style, her nephew’s giggles echoing off the walls in delighted screeches. “Aunt Phe! Again!”

  Her little helper had been anything but as she’d traipsed around the house looking for any discarded plates, napkins, or drinks that had been left behind. Tyler put the offending items in the garbage bag, and Daphne had crisscrossed back and forth to the bathroom, dumping out half-drunk sodas before rinsing the cans and bottles for recycling.

  It was the same every year.

  Once she’d asked her mother why people couldn’t clean up after themselves, and Giavanna had reminded her that people mingled at a party, moving from person to person, topic to topic, room to room. How could they be expected to remember where they left a Coke can or a glass of wine?

  Daphne wasn’t quite on the same page—she always tried to keep up with her dirty plates—but knew her mother had a point. One of the signs of a good party was a heaping garbage can afterwards.

  “We did good, Tyler. Nonna’s house is almost clean. All that’s left is for Poppy to vacuum the rugs.”

  “I do it!”

  She carefully let him down and watched his retreating form race for the pile of toys her mother kept in a corner of the living room. In moments, the popcorn action of his little vacuum cleaner echoed from the living room.

  “Poppy’s helper.” She smiled at her mother coming in from the backyard, another garbage bag in hand. “Landon did a good job. And Tony said the backyard was clean.”

  Daphne reached for one of the clean mugs by the coffeemaker. “Can I top you off?”

  “I’m good.”

  She poured herself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma a pleasant assault on the senses, when she realized her mother had come in alone. “Where’s Landon?”

  “He went home.”

  “What?” Daphne looked out the back windows, as if unconvinced by her mother’s words. He had to be out there. “Why did he go home?”

  “I might have—” Her mother stopped, took a deep breath. “I might have said something.”

  “Mom. Why?”

  “I meant what I told you yesterday. You have a right to know.”

  Something dark and greasy opened up in her stomach, the scent of the coffee suddenly overpowering.

  “So you blindsided the man while he was trying to help you? That’s so typical.” Daphne set her mug down on the counter, well aware she’d be wearing her coffee if she didn’t calm down. “You had no right.”

  “I had every right. You’re my daughter.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You have no right to butt in and harass and harangue and whatever else it is you do, comforting yourself that it’s all about love and motherhood. It’s not. It’s wrong. Your children have lives. I have a life.” She slammed a hand to her chest. “I can make my own decisions and I don’t need your bullshit. Damn it!”

  She hunted for her purse and then realized she’d given her phone to Carson. “I need to leave.”

  She stomped out before her mother could make even a token protest.

  Landon ran a hand over his stomach as nerves fired underneath his skin, the jittery equivalent of about six cups of coffee. He was mad when he left the Rossis—mad at being blindsided. Angry at Giavanna Rossi’s nosy approach to motherhood. And most of all, pissed at himself.

  But he hadn’t gone more than a few blocks when he realized his error. Daphne’s mother hadn’t influenced their conversation the night before. If he’d gotten off his self-righteous high horse, he’d have realized that before heading out. He’d been the one to tell Daphne about his past. About that night.

  And he was the one who needed to find a way past it.

  She could help. She could be there for him. But the work still left to do was all his.

  Funny how it all came clear as he walked through the neighborhood on a hot summer morning.

  He’d bottled it up and attempted to toss it out, but nothing would move him forward if he didn’t do the hard work of moving on. Life had handed him the catalysts for change, and if he were honest with himself, it had started before Daphne came into his life.

  He’d spent half his summer angry with Louisa over an affair that had happened in another time, in another place. Her actions—and the realization that the woman who had rescued him was human—had been hard to swallow. But now he finally understood those actions weren’t the problem.

  He was.

  The small row home was neat, the front porch swept clean of debris. Two lawn chairs were set up to face the street, and a small cactus sat between them, obviously thriving in the summer sun.

  The front door was open, and he looked through the screen. Amber stood at the kitchen counter, her back to him. He took a moment to look at her, the t-shirt and shorts reminiscent of so many summers of his childhood.

  From this distance, with her back to him, he could almost believe he was back there. Back to that time and place, when she was his entire world.

  He knocked on the screen and she turned, a slight jump in her skin before she smiled and waved him in. Landon hesitated for the briefest moment, but pushed on inside. He could keep running from this—keep bottling up the anger—but it wasn’t going to leave him alone. The metaphoric genie was out of the bottle with her return, and she wasn’t going away.

  And no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to shove her into a corner of his heart any longer.

  “I came to see how you were doing this morning.”

  “Fine. I’m good.” She ran a hand through her hair, shifting from bare foot to bare foot. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He followed her into the small kitchen, glancing around as he went. The home was small, and he’d already seen an extra door around the side that indicated someone rented the top floor.

  She poured him a mug and handed it over. “I don’t know how you take it.”

  Landon stilled at that. Louisa knew how he took his coffee. A dumping of milk or cream—whatever was available.

  “I’ll take some milk if you have it.”

  She grabbed a small container from the fridge. “Cream okay? That’s what I like in mine.”

  He doctored his coffee, the memory of the creamer that used to stand sentinel in their fridge door coming back to him.

  They settled into a small, drop-leaf table she had positioned at the end of her counter.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Sure.” He nodded. “Are you okay after last night?”

  “I’m fine. Moe made good on his promise. He refunded me on my tips and also put me in a cab home.”

  “Good.”

  “He kept apologizing. Said how sorry he was for what happened.” She shook her head. “It’s funny to be on the other side of that.”

  “Funny?”

  “Weird. Strange.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve spent so long with my head down and my focus on what I needed to do to stay well that I hadn’t ever considered what it would be like to come out the other side.”

  “You think you have?”

  “Some days. Others I think I haven’t moved at all from that night.”

  Since that night was determined to drag at his heels, he decided to face it head on. “The night that set you free, you mean.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I know it was bad and all, but I get how it goes. You must have seen Louisa as your savior.”

  The nerves that had carried him to her place were nowhere in evidence. Instead, all that was left behind was a white-hot fire and a desperate, determined need for answers. “Hey, it was an unpleasant situation, sure, but one bad night and it gave you a clean chance to dump the kid.”r />
  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “You sure about that? You had an opportunity and you took the easy way out.” Even now, after all these years and the life he had and the love he shared with Louisa, Nick, and Fender, that fact stung.

  No, it hurt.

  Raw, open, and festering, the wound hadn’t ever really healed. Ignoring it hadn’t made it go away, nor had pretending he was okay with his mother’s decisions.

  “No, Landon. It was your way out.”

  “My what?”

  “I’ve thought about that night so many times. What I did to you. What I exposed you to, both that night and so many others that might have had less difficult outcomes but which were horrible all the same. I can’t change that. I can only live with the reality of what I did.”

  “What you chose to do.”

  She stared at him and nodded slowly. “Yes. What I chose to do.”

  The admittance was a surprise, the acceptance of her acts even more so. But it was the hard set to her jaw and the fight that leaped into her eyes that told the real story.

  “I was so determined to ignore the outreach from CPS. Some woman, some stranger, wanted my son. What right did she have? What place? You were mine. I wasn’t giving you up.”

  Wasn’t giving him up? “You never said that. Not to me.”

  “I didn’t know what to do. I was panicked that someone could take you away. I was even more panicked at the little voice that kept whispering to me that you deserved better. That every time I took something I was betraying you.”

  “So you fought Louisa?”

  “I was prepared to. I decided I’d ignore it and if that didn’t work, I’d fight it. But I wasn’t giving you up.”

  The news struck him with all the force of a hammer to the head. She hadn’t wanted to give him up?

  Before he could push on that, she went on with her story. “I wasn’t going to go along with it, but I had one way and one way only at that time in my life of dealing with problems. I fought it for a few days. I told myself that CPS had an eye on you and I’d do well to stay clean for a few weeks. Let it all die down. And then someone had some fresh weed at work and I figured, what the hell. I was going off shift. It would help me relax.”

  She ran a finger over the handle of her mug, the repetitive motion mesmerizing him as he took in all she’d told him. He remembered that night, and his mother was on a hell of a lot more than a joint.

  “I picked up some guy who’d been hanging around the bar where I worked. Charming when he wanted to be. Hard. Edgy. It was why I’d stayed away when he first started making overtures. But the joint loosened me up. And when he offered me something a lot harder, I was more than ready to say yes.”

  Landon picked up his mug, the alternative version of that night filling in all the gaps he’d always wondered about. Had always wanted to understand.

  She had been better leading up to that night. They’d eaten at home several nights in a row, and she’d asked him about school. She’d even showed up at his last soccer game, when he’d won the plaque.

  And then it had all gone to hell.

  “I knew it was wrong. I think it’s part of the reason I wasn’t fully out of it there at the end. I wanted oblivion, but I couldn’t get it. Couldn’t get past the pounding voice inside my head, which only grew louder, that I was inviting trouble into the house. That maybe you would be better off in foster care. That I didn’t deserve you.”

  Her face crumpled at that. Something deep inside of him wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he held back. Like he somehow knew that if he touched her, he’d be saying it was okay.

  If he touched her, he’d be letting her back into his life.

  She lifted her eyes to him. Tears sheened the dark depths, but she still hadn’t cried. “I heard you scream and I flew out of the bedroom. I was outside myself, and all I could think was that I had to get to you. I had to save you.”

  The retelling lay heavy on the air, the weight of time and memory leaving it like a bright, glowing, pulsing ball that floated between them.

  “I also knew I had to save you by giving you up. Whatever life I thought I could give you, that night proved I wasn’t capable of it.”

  “So you signed the papers.”

  “I signed the papers. I had a few more benders after that. The day the hearing was finalized. A few months after that, when I passed by the school and saw you laughing with a few friends. And a few more months after that, on your birthday. And then it stopped.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I made it stop. I realized I could mourn you or I could become someone else. Someone who wasn’t ashamed all the time. I went home, tail between my legs, but my parents welcomed me back. They helped me. They’re why I know I’m clean and going to stay that way.”

  “So why come back here?”

  “Because the only person I’ve ever loved beyond reason is here. And I’ve been hoping I could find some small way to make things right.”

  He wanted to hang back. Wanted to avoid and ignore and just walk away. But the same tug that had pulled her back to Brooklyn had him extending a hand. When she took it, matching their palms to each other in the way she’d done when he was small, Landon realized Daphne’s mother might have had a point.

  Never underestimate what was inside.

  Daphne glanced at her phone once more, but the screen was pitch black. No text messages. No phone calls. Nothing.

  She was on the verge of calling Landon’s mother but was well aware using a nuclear option like that needed a bit more thought.

  And a few more hours before even considering it.

  She’d tried Nick and Emma only to get voicemail for both of them. She’d finally fumbled through a message for Nick she hoped didn’t sound too needy or desperate, even though she was both. And then she’d sat down to wait.

  Where had Landon gone?

  She considered a casual stroll over to the brownstone on Cherry Street, but figured a face-to-face visit wasn’t going to go down any easier than a phone call if Landon wasn’t at his mother’s.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand and she nearly bobbled it, she was holding on so tight.

  LOOK UP

  There were little eye emojis wiggling next to the words, but Daphne barely saw them as she scrambled to stand.

  Landon stood across the street, still in the same T-shirt and jeans he’d worn that morning to her parents’. The look was so reminiscent of the first time she’d seen him, all legs and feet. Then she’d assumed he was some Brooklyn hipster, a clichéd version of the men she saw in and around town.

  How amazing to find he was so much more.

  He waited for a truck to lumber past, then crossed the street in a few quick strides. She rushed to him before he’d barely cleared the asphalt. “I am so sorry. Sorry for my mother and her big nosy mouth and her need to butt in and her endless pester—”

  Hard lips stopped her tirade, the firm press of his lips silencing her.

  She gave herself over to the kiss, amazed as always that the simple act could calm her so quickly.

  But as the kiss played out, she was dimly aware something had changed. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Daphne heard a million things in that lone word and sensed that wherever he’d gone, it had been good for him. “Where were you?”

  “I visited Amber.”

  “Oh.” She considered for a moment. “Did my mother put you up to it?”

  “No. I put me up to it.”

  “Was it because I pressured you?”

  “No.” He stopped, shook his head. “But you were a big part of it. I want what’s between us. I want to love you and make a life with you. And I don’t want anything standing in our way.”

  “Your past isn’t something to be brushed off or pushed away. I hope you don’t think that. Or think that I feel that way. It’s part of you. Part of who you are.”

  “I know. But it’s not all of me.”

  S
he looked into his eyes. Since they’d met she’d seen desire, anger, and laughter—and that wry, funny sense that made him who he was.

  But this time she saw something else.

  For the first time since they met, she saw peace.

  “I love you, Landon.”

  “And I love you.”

  An idea popped into her head and she went with it on impulse. “Does that mean you’ll finally tell me why you went to visit Gretchen Reynolds’s daughter all on your own?”

  “It was Fender’s idea.”

  “Blaming your brother? These aren’t some stolen fireworks you can blame on someone else.”

  “In this case, I’m blaming him because it was his idea. But it gets more interesting than that. I think Fender likes her.”

  “Harlow Reynolds?”

  “Yep.”

  “Look at you, sharing gossip before noon.”

  Landon bent down and pressed his lips to her ear. “I can share a whole lot more.”

  Daphne smiled against his cheek and whispered right back. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “Nothing, my love. Not one single thing.”

  Epilogue

  “I love this house.” Landon stared up at the brownstone, the dark-colored stones rising above him for four stories.

  “This is one of the most gorgeous streets in Park Heights.” Daphne’s hand stayed tight in his, her grip firm as they stood waiting at the door. “Everyone loves this house.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. My mother goes out of her way to drive down this street on her way home from the market. And last I heard, that celebrity and his partner were buying up the house at the end of the block.”

  “The renovations start next month.”

  “More gossip before noon, McGee?”

  Landon couldn’t hold back his smile at her tease. “Like you’re not going to spread that the first chance you get.”

  “But of course.”

  The door swung open, his mother outlined in the doorway. Her smile was bright, but Landon saw the worry that tinged the edges. Took in the dark circles that rimmed her eyes. He’d put them there. Not the break-in or Gretchen’s behavior or even the stress of her borough presidency bid, but him.