by Amie Knight
But what happened in the third piece? Ya know, the AAA. The After, After Anthony. When he was gone and I was alone again. Because it would happen eventually. When we didn’t need him anymore and he was done with us. And the very thought of not having my Doc hurt me to my core, and I realized how deep I was and how very, very stupid I’d been to depend on him for so much.
Because the AAA was coming and when it did, I’d be crushed. And I didn’t have the luxury of being crushed. Not with a sick baby. Not when I needed to face the reality of not being able to depend on Anthony. No, this had to stop. I couldn’t let it continue. This playing house. This thing we were doing. This game. Because whatever game we were playing, it was dangerous, as games of the heart usually are.
I couldn’t wait to get home so I could see Kelly play the drums. I was dying to see her in her element. She was going to be amazing, but my girl was passionate and anyone with that much passion had to be damn good at what they loved. My girl. Fuck, when had I started to think of her as mine? I’d never thought of her as mine, not even that night so long ago. It terrified me. It elated me.
I paused before pushing my key into the lock of her apartment, half expecting to hear her pounding away, but all I heard was a whole bunch of nothing, so I went on in. The sight that greeted me wasn’t a welcome one. Usually, I came home to find the aroma of dinner wafting through the space and Kelly in the kitchen plating me up something. Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen was actually a thing in my life and while I was liberal and all for women’s rights, I loved that she cooked for me. Took care of me in the seemingly small but really big ways that she could.
So, when I saw her sitting on the sofa in the dark staring at the drums, I knew something was very wrong. I walked over to her, my heart somewhere in my stomach, which was an impossibility, but my body told me differently.
I stood in front of her, but she didn’t look at me. She just kept staring at those drums, and I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. I thought they would cheer her up. I thought maybe she could play for me in the evenings. I thought they’d make her happy and above all else in the world I wanted this woman happy.
“What’s going on, half-pint?” I tried throwing a little humor into my voice, but even to my ears it sounded strained and scared.
She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and groaned. I moved in beside her and sat on the couch.
“What’s up, Kelly? Tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me. Why are you sitting in the dark?”
Twisting her hands in her lap, she looked down at them. “We can’t do this anymore.”
What in the hell was she talking about? “Do what?” Why wouldn’t she look at me? Why wasn’t she throwing me snark? Where were her smiling blue eyes?
“This,” she said in a dead voice.
“Jesus fucking Christ! Elaborate. You’re freaking me out.”
“This!” she yelled back, her hands thrown out around her, like I was supposed to understand.
Her eyes were all over the room, but still not on me and my heart dropped even farther into my stomach.
“Fucking look at me!” I shouted and she jumped, her eyes meeting mine, wide and terrified.
“That’s it,” I whispered. I brought my big palms to her face and cradled her delicate cheeks between them. “Tell me what’s going on.” I was trying like hell to keep my cool. What had happened between now and the texts? Was she that upset about the drums?
Kelly had kept it together like a champ up until this moment, so when I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, my stomach rolled.
“You can’t keep taking care of me. It’s not right. It’s not your job.”
My job? My fucking job? I took care of her because I cared for her. Because I wanted to. Because she made me happy and I wanted to make her the same. It wasn’t a fucking job. It was a goddamn pleasure.
Anger boiled beneath the surface and I tried to keep it in check, I really did. I brought my forehead to hers, my hands still holding her sweet, heart-shaped face. Couldn’t she see it? Didn’t she understand that my job was my life? That I didn’t have friends beyond professional relationships? She was it. She was everything.
“I don’t do things for you because I have to, Kelly. You’re not a job, or a chore, or even a burden. You’re my best friend.”
Air whooshed past her lips and a single tear slipped free of her eye and landed on my hand.
“I hope I’m yours, too,” I whispered. A mix of anger and some emotion I couldn’t put my finger on stirred inside of me as I rolled my forehead back and forth on hers slowly. “Tell me I make you as happy as you make me every day.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled her face from my hands and threw her arms around my neck, clutching me so tightly I smiled.
“That’s more like it, short stuff.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and brought her body to mine.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “The drums, the apartment, you. You’re just too much, Anthony. You’re too good. You’re too kind to me. It scares the shit out of me.”
I pulled back, looking into her eyes. “Why?”
She swiped at the tears under her eyes. “It’s stupid.”
“If you’re this upset, it’s not stupid.”
Her sad face peered up at me. “What happens when this is over? When the surgeries are done? What happens to us?”
I smiled down at her. She was beyond crazy. She thought once this was over so were we.
“Us? We’ll always be us, Kelly. I’m not going anywhere. Are you? You’re the only real friend I’ve had in years. You try to leave me, and I’m chasing you down.”
She gave a sad laugh.
“Besides, who would feed me? Bake me cookies? Put up with my crazy mother?”
She laughed again, harder this time, more free, and I was relieved. Her face was a wet mess.
“Let me get you a tissue.” I moved for the kitchen junk drawer where I’d seen a pack of travel tissues a few days before.
“Wait,” she said from behind me, but I pulled the drawer open and there was a small neatly wrapped box that I knew hadn’t been there before.
I looked over my shoulder at Kelly, the drawer handle still in my hand.
“That’s not yours.” Panic was etched across her face and I chuckled.
“It’s not?”
“No.”
I grinned. “Well, whose is it?”
“It’s mine,” she snapped out too fast.
“You wrapped yourself a present and stuck it in the kitchen drawer?” Fuck, she was cute.
“Yes?”
I pulled the package out. “You don’t sound so sure. Maybe it’s for me, after all?”
She tried to snatch it from my hands and I held it up, which pretty much guaranteed she‘d never get it.
She glared at me and then at the present. “Fine, you can have it, but it isn’t much. It’s not a three-thousand-dollar drum set, that’s for sure,” she grumbled.
I was giddy as I took the present to the living room and sat on the sofa, the tissues long forgotten.
“I don’t think anyone has ever given me a present but my mom and dad.”
Her face was soft on mine. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, holding the box in my lap.
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth nervously before saying, “Well, go on and open it.”
I tore her pretty box to shreds and looked down at the bow tie inside. The music notes on it reminded me of the ones I’d seen ten years ago along the side of her torso. I loved it.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed, holding it up to look closer.
“Yeah?” she squeaked from beside me.
My eyes met hers, and I saw the nerves all over her face. Wrapping my hand around her neck, I brought her face close to mine and laid a slow kiss to her cheek. “I love it,” I said into her ear, before pulling back. She smelled entirely too good to be that close to. A mix of berries and van
illa. I wanted to kiss more than her cheeks. I wanted to taste her lips.
“I’m glad.” Her face was happy, relieved. “I thought it was a little of me and a little of you.”
Hearing her say that made my head buzz. After all, I’d had the same thoughts.
Placing the bow tie carefully back in the box, I said, “The only thing that would make me happier is if you played those drums over there.”
They were like the centerpiece of the room and I’d wondered how she’d kept herself from playing them all day. And I could tell by the look on her face that she somehow had.
“I can’t keep the drums, Doc. They were too expensive.”
“I told you, I got a good deal. Go on, play them.”
“Nope, they’re going back.”
“Ya know, they weren’t really a gift for you.” It was only part lie. I’d bought them for us both.
Her grin told me she thought I was full of shit. “Really?” She quirked a sarcastic brow.
“Really.” I feigned nonchalance, picking some lint off the knee of my slacks. “I bought them for me. I’ve never heard you play.”
“You bought a three-thousand-dollar drum kit for me so you could hear me play?”
“Yep. So get to it, lady. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”
The playfulness that was on her face only moments before flew the coop. Her features grew too serious, too sad. “Never. I’d never want to disappoint you, Doc.”
I looked away, the emotion too heavy between us. It seemed to settle on my chest, nonetheless.
“Well, then you better play for me,” I said, loosening the purple bow tie around my neck and letting it hang free and popping the top two buttons on my dress shirt. I was getting comfortable. Like I said, I really wanted to hear her play.
“Okay, Doc,” she said softly, leaving the couch.
She sat on the black stool behind the drum set and picked the drumsticks up that lay on top of one of the drum heads.
She twisted them around, looking like she was exercising her wrists before she finally looked at me. “The neighbors are going to lose their shit.”
And then she let loose on the drums like they’d committed a crime against her. I was immediately enthralled. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her body rocked. Her arms flew at lightning speeds, her eyes barely open like she was drugged. She played the drums like she made love all those years ago. Without inhibition, with a kind of wicked sensuality that had me so deeply entrenched in her playing that I didn’t even realize when she finally stopped minutes later.
She stared at me, eyebrows raised. “Well? Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
I threw my head back and laughed before saying, “Better.”
“Shit.”
I stepped off the elevator and my box of pastries fell from my hand. I’d been jonesing for them since Anthony and I had eaten lunch at what he liked to call his Friday Café. Now, I wasn’t craving much of anything except an escape route because there stood my mom and her husband, Jason, right outside my apartment door, and they looked mad as hell.
“Kelly Ann Potter, open the door to this apartment right now,” my momma said through her teeth. And I was in deep shit. When my momma said my full name it was all over.
“Momma,” I breathed out, taking her in. She looked good. Better than good. She looked like home, and I didn’t know how she managed to do that since she hadn’t had one in a long damn time. She and Jason had been retired and traveling the United States in their RV for years. But still, her long dark hair speckled with strands of gray, her long flowing skirt that covered her feet, and matching flowery top covered with long silver necklaces and even more jewelry on her wrists and fingers made me feel warm all over her. I’d missed her so much.
“Pick your jaw off the floor and open this door so I don’t have to go all southern on your ass in the hallway, baby girl.”
My wide eyes shot to Jason for a little support, but he only smirked and moved from in front of the door and picked up my pastries off the floor.
I looked back at my momma as I dug my keys out of my purse and opened the door, stepping inside. They followed me, my momma stomping her usually light feet all the way over to my couch and placing her bag there before returning to me quickly and wrapping her arms around me tightly. So snug I let out a grunt as my steel injected spine relaxed for the first time in months. I put my own arms around her back and pushed my nose right into the crook of her neck where I took in the familiar smell of jasmine.
“Momma,” I choked out on a sob.
She rocked me back and forth in the foyer of the apartment. “It’s okay, now,” she cooed at me. “I’m here.”
Great big hiccupping sobs burst from my mouth. Months of tears and heartache and fear drenched the collar of my momma’s shirt while she held me.
“Momma’s here now. Everything is going to be all right.” She ran her hands through my hair.
Ainsley had ratted me out, but then again, she knew I was running out of time and I was never going to call my mother. I was too scared. I was going to kill Ainsley. I was going to kiss her. She was right. I needed my momma.
Even at thirty-two years old, nothing and no one could quite understand me like her. No one would ever quite know my fears, my sorrows, or even my love for the child I was carrying like she would. After all, she’d carried me and loved me, too.
I felt another set of strong arms come around both me and my momma. “My girls okay?” Jason laid his big head to the top of mine and I smiled through my tears. He’d been with my mom since I was seventeen and he was the best. He was good to her and that was enough for me.
We all stayed huddled together like that until my sobs had calmed. My momma was the first to pull back.
She started walking toward the sofa. “Jason, why don’t you make us some tea? I think Kelly and I need to have a talk.”
He smiled a small smile as he left the room for the kitchen that let me know he felt sorry for me because I think we were at the point where my momma was about to go all southern on my ass, and I was sorry for me, too.
She sat down and patted the cushion next to her, and I took my time walking the five feet over there. I’d done wrong by not calling her. By not telling her.
I sat down, my heart heavy and my explanations nil. I’d been wrong.
She leaned back, her look casual. I knew my mom all too well and anytime she looked casual she was preparing to strike. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear this from Ainsley?”
Fresh tears spilled over and onto my cheeks. I used the sleeves of my hoodie to wipe them away. “I don’t know, Mom.” I shook my head at how stupid I’d been. Ainsley had been right. I’d needed my mom and here she was and it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was one of the best things about now besides Anthony. And Anthony was amazing. I thought of the night last week when he’d told me I was his best friend. How much we meant to each other. Yes, what we had was definitely something special.
“It seems stupid now, but you always wanted me to travel, get a career, marry, and then have a baby.” I scrubbed my palms over my face. “I know you didn’t want me to make the same mistakes you did.”
Pulling my hands away from my face, she leaned close and placed her own hands at my cheeks, cradling them gently. “Is that what you think, baby girl? That you’re my mistake?”
Wetness filled her eyes and one lone tear trekked down her cheek. “You were not a mistake, Kelly Ann Potter. You were my everything.” Her grip on my face tightened, not to the point of pain, but to the point of her letting me know this was important, so I was sure to pay attention. “You still are.”
She used her hands to steer my forehead to her lips where she laid a long kiss before leaning back on the couch and taking me with her. I curled into my momma’s side and laid my head on her chest, my forehead grazing the crook of her neck.
She dragged a hand through my hair and said, “I was so young, b
ut it didn’t matter. You were such a gift. How could you ever think I regretted a single moment of it? Those were the best and hardest days of my life, and I wouldn’t have traded all the tea in China or all the stairs in Paris for a single day with you.”
She stopped stroking my hair and used her hand to lift my face to hers and when I met her eyes I saw a world of love and pain and fear and pride, and I knew in that moment that’s what being a mom meant.
“You were my greatest adventure, baby girl.”
My face crumbled. “I’m sorry, Momma.”
She kissed my cheek, her mouth close to my ear. “Was it Cash?”
I nodded. It was, indeed.
She let go of my face and pulled me into her arms again, and I let out a relieved sigh. This felt good. I needed it. I needed her.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m here now. We’re gonna get through this.” She gave me a squeeze and said into the top of my hair, “And I’m gonna be a grandma.”
I rubbed my hand over my stomach. “I hope so,” I whispered my greatest fear. And I wondered how much Ainsley had told her.
She squeezed me harder to her. “We will. Ainsley said you came here for a doctor friend of y’alls. I have faith, pumpkin. You should, too.”
And just on cue, the front door opened and Anthony came barreling in, clearly straight from work as he had his backpack thrown over his shoulder and his bow tie and blazer still on. He was staring down at his phone and we were staring at him. He didn’t even notice.
“Hey, short stuff,” he called because clearly he didn’t realize I was right here since he was responding to a text on his phone. “Did you see there’s an RV double parked right out front?”
Guess it was time to meet the parents.
I sat up as I said, “Doc.”
His eyes hit mine and his face fell, worry etched in the plains of it. He ditched his backpack in the foyer and darted toward me, kneeling down in front of me and taking my face in his hands the way he did so often. “Have you been crying? Why are you upset? What happened today?”