“Nope.” She pops her P and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Your man asleep already?” I ask, as on TV the countdown to the new year begins.
“He’s grabbing me a blanket. We’re on the front porch waiting for the fireworks.” …Eight—Seven—Six… “Where are you?”
“Just got home.”
…Four—Three…
“Love you, Brother.”
“Ditto, Sis.”
…One—Happy New Year!
“Happy New Year.”
“Same to you.” I hear the dull thud of fireworks in the distance.
“Evan says Happy New Year too.”
“Back at him.”
“Trunk?”
“Yeah, Sis.”
“You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“Still coming over tomorrow? I guess it’s ‘later’ now.”
“Is there gonna be a crowd?”
I hear her soft chuckle. “No crowd. Just you and Joan.”
“I’ll be there. Go watch the fireworks.”
“Okay.”
I tuck my phone back in my pocket, go to shrug on my coat, and shove my feet into a pair of old sneakers. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I head out the sliding doors to light a smoke and watch what I can see of the fireworks.
I briefly wonder if Jaimie is watching them too.
Jaimie
“Happy New Year, sweetie.”
I’m in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when Mom walks in from the breezeway between the garage and the house.
The holidays have been rather hectic, with Mom getting in on Christmas and us spending most of that day at Tahlula’s place. Then we had River’s first birthday on Saturday, the twenty-eighth, for which we had a little party here with the usual suspects: T and Hanna, Autumn with Aleksander, and even Ollie popped in.
Tahlula surprised us with the news she was pregnant again, adding to it she and Evan would be tying the knot in a simple ceremony at the courthouse on January seventeenth. When Autumn started talking showers and the like, she was quick to point out they don’t want any hoopla.
We were alone in the kitchen when she asked me to be her maid of honor, which brought tears to my eyes.
Mom’s stuff arrived in the big truck the day before yesterday, and with the help of Evan and some of his buddies, Mom was moved into her apartment by dinnertime. We were up there quite a bit, putting away her stuff and putzing around.
Finally, last night, we ended up spending New Year’s Eve watching a movie on the ridiculously large TV in my living room, and had plans to stay up for the countdown. Instead we barely made it to eleven o’clock before we called it a night. Both of us tuckered out.
“Same to you, Mom.” I quickly embrace her in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too, honey.” She smiles at me before her eyes scan the living room. “Where’s my grandson?”
“Still asleep.” The words have barely left my mouth when the baby monitor crackles with his early morning babbles. “I stand corrected.”
“Why don’t you grab him, and I’ll get some pancakes going for breakfast.”
I lean in to kiss her cheek. “Sounds like a plan.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting at the small dining table, River in his high chair trying to spear pieces of pancake with his plastic fork.
“Have you decided yet?” Mom asks, and I glare at her from under my eyebrows.
I know what she’s referring to, but apparently she’s done dropping hints. “No,” I answer, a bit curtly.
Mom overheard Tony Ramirez suggesting to take me out on the town at Christmas dinner. She’d also been privy to the repeat of his offer after I came back inside, still utterly confused by Trunk’s words and actions. I’d been teetering between flattered and royally pissed to have been called a distraction, and didn’t trust my judgment, so I brushed him off with a, “We’ll see.”
“He seems like a charming man: handsome, an officer of the law at that. What’s not to like?”
“I didn’t say I don’t like him, and I can’t deny he’s good-looking, but it’s the charming part that has me on the fence.” Not to mention the fact I’m more drawn to the rough looks and taciturn, mostly grouchy, demeanor of my best friend’s brother. But I keep that to myself. “He’s smooth, Mom. Too smooth. I get the sense he’s looking for a quick distraction…” There’s that word again. “…and not for the long-term complexities of a single mother with a toddler and a moving truck full of baggage.”
“Pshaw.” She flaps her hand and leans over the table. “Nothing wrong with the occasional distraction.” She adds air quotes. “We all need a little something-something on occasion.”
I clap my hands over my ears but can’t stop the semi-hysterical giggle that bubbles up. “For Pete’s sake, Mom. I’m mentally traumatized as it is. No need to add to that.”
Mom snickers at my antics and helps River direct a piece of pancake to his mouth. “I loved only one man in my life,” she shares, referring to Dad, who died much too young of cancer twenty-two years ago when I was just sixteen, “but that doesn’t mean I became a nun after he passed away. Do you remember our neighbor when we lived on South York Street? Mr. Jackson?”
“La-la-la, I don’t want to hear any more,” I warn her. I don’t want to know about my mother and the burly carpenter next door, who always smelled of sawdust.
Mom shrugs. “I’m just saying.”
I’m still battling the visuals when I’m upstairs grabbing a quick shower, while Mom keeps River busy in the living room. I try to visualize Tony with me instead, but he keeps morphing into someone else. Dammit.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my mother planned it when, just as I come down the stairs, my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Happy New Year, darlin’.” There is no mistaking the smooth sound of the detective’s voice and my eyes immediately dart suspiciously to my mother.
“Same to you, Tony,” I return, watching as Mom’s head whips around, happy surprise on her face. I turn my back on her and wander into the laundry room off the kitchen for some privacy.
“What are you up to?”
“Not much. I think we’ll have a lazy day.”
“Mmm,” he rumbles. “What about after you have your lazy day? There’s live music at the Irish Embassy Pub on Main Street tonight. Wanna come?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh come on,” he pushes. “Keith and Autumn will be there, and I’m sure Joe and Ollie will show up. It’s a New Year’s tradition. No strings. Just a fun night out.”
I’m waffling. I don’t want to give off the wrong impression but the way he makes it sound, it’s a gathering of friends and not a date. Through the crack in the door, I catch Mom in the kitchen trying hard not to look like she’s listening in.
“Jaimie?”
“Okay, fine. What time should I be there?”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“Or … can always catch a ride with Joe and Ollie, that’s probably easiest,” I quickly suggest.
There’s a brief silence on the other end before he repeats, more firmly, “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I guess I can give him that, since he’s not pushing for dinner or anything. Maybe it is just about listening to music with a few friends. “Eight is good.” It’ll give me time to get River bathed and in bed before I head out.
“See you then. And, Jaimie? I’m looking forward to it.”
There it is, the sign I should’ve said no, but before I can bow out, he’s already hung up.
“Don’t worry about us,” Mom says, as soon as I step out into the kitchen, not even bothering to hide the fact she was eavesdropping anymore. “We’ll be fine. I’ll sleep on the couch until you get home, or don’t get home at all. Either way,” she quickly adds when I throw her an exasperated look. “You go have fun.”
“You do realize I’m thirty-eight years ol
d, right, Mom?”
Her eyes narrow on me. “Of course. How could I forget? Every one of those years is mapped out on my face in wrinkles. I’m old, I worry, I want you to have fun. What’s wrong with that?”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling and pray for calm. I hear her. I may not have understood that concept when I was younger and not a mother myself, but I get it now, annoying as it may be.
“Nothing, Mom,” I concede, before changing the subject. “Wanna watch college football?” It’s an old tradition, dating back to when my dad was alive. New Year’s Day was spent in front of the tube, catching as many of the six college bowls as possible.
She seems to think about it, her index finger tapping her lips. “You know, I think we should change it up this year. Maybe a nice Hallmark movie instead? Something romantic to get you in the mood for your date?”
“Mother!”
“All right, already. Keep your panties on.” She throws me a sneaky grin. “For now, anyway.”
CHAPTER 4
Jaimie
“YOU LOOK LOVELY,” Mom says when I come down, and I almost want to rush back upstairs to change when I see hope flicker in her eyes.
I don’t want to give off the wrong impression, to her, or to Tony.
Other than mom-jeans or yoga pants, easy-to-clean tees and sweatshirts, and a handful of dreary office suits, I don’t have a lot of choice in my wardrobe. I already wore my go-to dressy pants and fitted sweater at Christmas. The only other thing suitable in my closet is this rust-brown wrap dress, with long three-quarter sleeves and generous cleavage. Paired with my brown, high-heeled boots, it accentuates every goddamn curve.
“I’m not done,” I tell Mom, and dive into the coat closet in the hallway, coming up with my cropped jean jacket and quickly shrug it on. “There,” I announce. “Now I’m done.”
Apparently Mom is not exactly on board with my last minute addition. “Don’t you think that spoils the effect of the dress?” she suggests with as much tact as she can muster. Which isn’t saying a lot.
“I’m going to see live music in a bar with friends, Mom, not dining at a fine restaurant with a date.”
“Is he picking you up?” she fires back, undeterred.
“Well, yes, but—” I don’t get to finish my thought.
“Then it’s a date,” she firmly concludes.
Whatever. If she insists on deluding herself, I can’t stop her. A sharp rap on the door lets me know it’s too late for that anyway.
“If River wakes up, just give me a call, okay, Mom?”
“We’ll be fine. I raised you and you’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
“I know, but—”
“Jaimie Lynn Belcamp, open that door,” she orders, using my full name like she used to when she wanted me to know how serious she was.
I roll my eyes, much like I used to, and open the door.
He looks good, in a short navy blue peacoat and dark jeans. Very put-together. Very GQ. Very smooth. I’m trying to imagine him with baby spit all over his pressed dress shirt. I can’t.
I also can’t ignore the flowers he’s holding out to me.
“You look lovely,” he unknowingly echoes my mother’s words. Unlike my mother, though, his eyes get stuck on the sliver of cleavage still visible between the edges of my jacket. In his defense, he catches himself and his eyes shoot straight up to mine, the hint of a blush on his face.
“Thank you,” I mumble, trying to avoid my mother’s meaningful, ‘told-ya’ looks as I hand her the flowers to put in some water. Do friends bring each other flowers for a casual night out? I’ve been out of the game for a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s not standard procedure.
“Ready for My Sticky Fingers?” I believe my mouth falls open and I hear my mother’s gasp behind me. Tony looks between us, confused, until he finally clues in. “The band! That’s the name of tonight’s band.”
Leaving my stupefied mother standing in the doorway, I quickly hustle Tony to his car in the driveway.
“I’ll check in with you later, Mom, I won’t be too late,” I call over my shoulder, before Tony opens the door for me and I settle in the passenger seat. He climbs behind the wheel and blows out a deep breath.
“Well. That was embarrassing,” he mumbles, as he backs out onto the road. Suddenly the whole situation tickles my funny bone and I snicker. “Not helping.” His disgruntled words only make it worse and before long I’m laughing out loud, tears running down my face.
“I’m sorry,” I manage when I can breathe again, sneaking a peek in his direction. The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk.
“Don’t be.” He suddenly chuckles. “You should’ve seen your face. For a second I thought you were going to slam the door in my face.”
“The thought may have crossed my mind.”
“I’m usually smoother,” he says wistfully.
I twist in my seat to face him. “Can I be straight?” He quickly glances over and nods before turning his eyes back to the road. “I thought this was to be a few drinks with a group of friends? The flowers…”
“Too much?” he asks with a flick of his eyes.
“They’re lovely, but they make me feel like maybe we’re on different pages. To be blunt, I may be in the market for a new friend, but not for any romantic entanglements.”
The knuckles of his hands on the steering wheel turn white, and it takes a moment before he responds, but he does it with a smile. “Can’t fault a guy for trying.” He shrugs as he pulls into a parking spot along Main.
“I totally get if you wanna take me back home,” I offer, but to my surprise he turns to me with his eyebrows raised.
“Are you kidding?” He turns off the engine and unbuckles. “The Irish offers half-price wings when there’s live music. Can’t miss out on those.”
Glad for the lighter note, I let him help me out of the car and even slip my arm through his as we walk to the pub.
Trunk
“I want you to walk me down the aisle.”
For the sake of Evan’s mother, who is sitting right across from me at the dinner table, I’ve been biting my tongue. Otherwise, I might have had a thing or two to say about the fact my sister got herself knocked up so soon after the scare she had when Hanna was born.
I’ve been sitting here with my eyes on my empty plate, listening to the surprise wedding plans, while I try to wrap my head around the barrage of news over dinner. However, when Tahlula makes that suggestion, my eyes shoot up to meet hers.
“What?”
“You heard me,” she sasses, but her eyes are shiny.
Fuck, I hate crying. Especially from my sister.
I open my mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. Clearing my throat I try again, “You want me to give you away?”
“You’re the only one who can,” she says, scoring another direct hit to my soul. “You’re my family.”
Shee-it.
“Guess I can do that, Sis, but I’m not wearing a tux, or freakin’ wedding colors, or any ‘a that bullshit,” I grumble.
“Deal, and thank you.”
Tahlula’s smile is bright, and something relaxes inside me. She’s happy. In all those years when it was just us; I would’ve given an arm to see a smile like that on her face. Now she is, even though it fucking took another man to put it there.
I glance over at Evan, who only has eyes for my sister. Sucker is so far gone, it’s a miracle he remembers his own damn name. Good man, though, even if I do hate to admit it.
Hanna chooses that moment to make herself known, her angry cries don’t need a baby monitor. She has a good set of lungs on her.
“I’ll get her,” I announce when Tahlula starts getting up, happy for a break from all the sappy wedding talk.
My niece looks nothing like me. Bright red hair and pale skin versus my own black hide. It’s hard to tell we’re related. Our mother was African American, but Tahlula and I are from different fathers. Mine black, and as far as we know, my sist
er’s sperm donor was Caucasian; her skin’s a lot lighter.
Hanna, well, she looks white, except maybe for her mouth and the tight curls that are starting to form in her hair. Those, and her golden-brown eyes, are all her mom’s.
“Hey, girl,” I mumble walking into her room.
Her little legs are kicking furiously and her arms reach for me when I lean over her crib to pick her up.
“Feeling left out?” I settle her on my arm and it only takes a second to register the smell. “You’re killing me, baby,” I complain. “That better not have gone up your back, or I’m calling your mother.”
Luckily, the damage is minimal as I make quick work of her dirty diaper and carry her downstairs.
Tahlula nurses her in the living room while the rest of us clear the table. When the dishwasher is loaded, I announce I’m heading out.
“Where are you off to?”
“Meeting up with a few guys before I head home,” I answer my sister’s question.
“Oh, would you mind dropping me at home?” Joan steps out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
“I said I’d take you, Ma,” Evan reminds her.
“I know, but if Titus is leaving, he’ll be practically driving by my front door anyway. No need for you to get all dressed up and go out in the cold.”
Evan’s mother insists on calling me by my given name. Something I’m surprisingly okay with. From her anyway.
“I’ll drop ya off. No problem.” I walk over to the couch, planting my fists in the seat on either side of Tahlula, bringing my face close. “Proud to walk you down that aisle, Sis.”
“I know.” She smiles up at me and I kiss her forehead before dropping my eyes to Hanna, who looks to be half-asleep again.
“She’s growing on me,” I mumble, kissing her red hair.
“Liar. You’re completely smitten with her.”
I straighten up, trying to hide a grin. “I don’t do smitten.”
“Whatever. Get out of here,” Tahlula waves me off.
A few minutes later, I climb behind the wheel; Joan is already buckled into the passenger seat.
“You remember where it is?”
“Right, then second right. Fifth house on the left.”
EDGE OF REASON Page 3