Tessa Ever After

by Brighton Walsh

  Taking a deep breath, I knock twice on the door and wait for her to answer. And even though I have a few moments to compose myself, no amount of time would prepare me for what I see when she opens the door. She’s wearing a dress—black this time—that’s formed to her body and leaves her shoulders and arms completely bare and doesn’t cover nearly enough of her legs, unless she’s planning to wear this only for me. She’s changed her hair again since the last time I saw her a few days ago—purple streaks here and there amidst dark brown. And I love when she wears it like this, kind of wavy and tousled. Sexy. Like she just rolled out of bed. And that only makes me think of Tessa in a bed, her hair spread out on the pillow and only a thin sheet covering her body, which isn’t helping anything.

  Her lips—painted in a deep red—form an O when she sees me, her eyes widening in surprise. “Jason! What are you doing here?”

  I shrug. “Thought I’d stop by. You going somewhere?” I ask, gesturing to her dress.

  “I . . . um. Yeah. I am. Or I was.” Her phone rings from somewhere inside, and she opens the door wider before running off to grab it. “Amanda! Hi! No, thanks for getting back to me so quick.” She pauses for a minute, listening, then her mouth draws down at the corners, her eyes flicking to mine briefly before looking away again, her shoulders sagging. “Oh sure. No, I totally understand. It was really short notice. Okay, have a good night.” She hangs up the phone and tosses it on the couch behind her, muttering nearly every swear word in the book as she does so.

  With raised eyebrows, I ask, “What’s up?”

  She heaves a sigh and turns around to face me. “My babysitter got food poisoning this afternoon and called to cancel on me about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Suddenly, the thought of postponing what I came here to talk about seems like the best idea in the world. What’s another couple hours when I’ve already waited weeks? Months, if I’m being honest. “I can watch Haley if you need to go somewhere.”

  “I—” She looks at me, then toward the hallway leading to Haley’s room, where I can hear her playing. “I don’t know if that’d be a good idea.”

  I frown. “You don’t trust me with her?”

  “No! No, that’s not it at all. Of course I trust you with her, Jason.” She expels a deep breath and avoids my eyes. “I’m just not sure everyone would be . . . comfortable.”

  “Who wouldn’t be comfortable?”

  “Um, you.”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be comfortable? I hang out with Haley all the time.” When she doesn’t answer and brings her thumbnail to her mouth, chewing on it relentlessly as she avoids my eyes, I say, “Tess, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Just spit it out already.”

  She drops her arm and meets my gaze, her shoulders back as if she’s bracing for my reaction. “I’m going on a date with Greg. That’s why I called a babysitter.”

  And she was right to brace herself, because I feel like I just got punched in the goddamn stomach. For days, I’ve done nothing but think about her, about that night on the dance floor and the time spent with her and Haley when we all skipped our obligations, and try to figure out how I could possibly make this work. I came over here tonight with the intention of telling her, asking if she might be interested in trying, despite the warnings from her brother. Despite knowing it’s a bad idea.

  And while I was doing all that, she was making plans to date the boring-as-fuck dude I know is better suited to her than I am.

  I stare at her, my jaw flexing as I try to get myself under control. When I think I can talk and not give anything away, I affect nonchalance as I shrug and say, “So go on your date.”

  Her head snaps to mine, her eyes wide. “You . . . you don’t mind?”

  “Why should I mind, Tess?” My voice is low, controlled as much as I can manage.

  “Just . . . the other night . . . and . . .” She shakes her head, snapping her mouth shut. “Nothing. Of course. Well, if you’re sure . . .”

  I pull off my coat and toss it on the couch, shrugging as I cross my arms against my chest. “I’m sure.”

  Her gaze is pulled away by lights shining into the living room, and she goes over to look out the window. “That’s him. I’m just going to go say good night to Haley.”

  Not a minute later, the doorbell rings, and I answer it, coming face-to-face with an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers—roses—and I’m smug in the fact that I know Tessa thinks roses are a cop-out. She hates them. “Aw, Greg, you shouldn’t have.”

  His face betrays his surprise before he’s composed again, the smile he wore the whole time I intruded on their date last week once again present. “Jason. Hi. Sorry about that. I assumed Tessa would answer.”

  Moving away and falling to sit on the couch, my arm stretched out along the back, I say, “She went to say good night to Haley.”

  “Oh. So you’re . . .” His eyebrows are raised as he trails off.

  “Staying with Haley. Her babysitter canceled.”

  He frowns, his attention focused on the hallway where I can hear Tessa going over the rules with her daughter. “She didn’t need to call you. She could’ve canceled. Or we can just stay in. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

  “Nah. I’m here for them. Whenever they need it.” I maintain eye contact with him, and it’s physically obvious the moment he registers my words as something that may threaten what he has with Tess. Before, even when I dragged Tessa away to dance, he didn’t see me as anything more than her brother’s friend. Someone so much younger than him, less established than him, someone who was no competition at all.

  That was before he knew I was in the game.

  tessa

  I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to have Jason watch Haley. The very person I’m trying to forget about, trying to push out of my mind, here while I go out on a date with the man I’m trying to fill the void with.

  After saying good-bye to Haley and reminding her to be good, I slip out of her room and head back to the living room. Jason’s lounging on the couch, the picture of ease, his arm spread across the back, his legs wide, taking up as much space as possible. Greg is stiff by the door, and he offers me a tight smile.

  “Hi, sorry about that,” I say as I walk toward him. “Babysitter canceled at the last minute.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Jason here was just saying.” He clears his throat, his eyes briefly taking in my outfit. And even with his gaze raking over me, there’s not even a whisper of excitement in my body. In every other circumstance, I’d ignore it or push it to the back of my mind, but having Jason arrive a mere five minutes ago, his eyes doing the exact same thing and my body responding with full-blown goose bumps, the differences between these two men and how they affect me are obvious. And staggering.

  “Did you want to grab your coat? Our reservations are at seven.”

  “Oh sure. Yes.” I turn around, glancing at Jason as I pass. His body language still exudes calmness and disinterest, but his eyes are sharp, boring into me as I walk across the room and grab my coat from the hook by the back door. Once I slip it on and grab my purse, I stop next to Greg and turn to face Jason. “So, I shouldn’t be gone too long. You’ve got my cell if anything happens.”

  He nods. “Take your time.” And even though he says the next words to me, his eyes are focused directly on my date. “I’ll be here when you get home.”

  The tone of his voice, the way it was almost a warning to Greg has me frowning as I look between the two of them, wondering what I missed while I was in with Haley.

  “Ready?” Greg asks.

  “Ah, yeah.”

  Greg’s hand goes to the small of my back, and he guides me to the front door, opening it for me. Before it closes behind me, I glance once more at Jason, and the intensity of his stare stays with me long after we leave.

  TWELVE

  jason

  I don’t realize how hard I’m clenching my jaw until the door shuts, and I drop my head back
on the couch cushions. I want to take those goddamn flowers he left on the table by the door and shove them down his throat. With a groan, I scrub my hand over my face. I should’ve called Katie or Jess or Laura. I should’ve gone out with the guys and gotten shit-faced. I should’ve done a million things other than seeking Tess out in the first place.

  Because now I’m stuck here for who knows how long while the girl I’ve done nothing but fixate on for the last several months goes out on a date with some too-old jackass. The image of them leaving comes to mind, the look he threw over his shoulder as I watched them walk out the door. I wanted to break his fucking fingers when he put them on Tess’s body, pulled her close, and guided her out of the house. Away from me. And that’s exactly what he was doing. Though when we met, he didn’t see me as anything but some friend, it’s obvious he finally gets it. He finally realizes I’m someone he needs to be wary of.

  And worse than seeing him with his hands on her is imagining them on her later. I know this is their third date, and combined with the dress and the shoes she wore out of here, it’s perfectly clear what she plans on doing tonight. The thought makes me want to stab my eyes out with a spoon just to get the image of them out of my head.

  Before I can think too much on it, a high-pitched voice says, “Jay!” and Haley runs out of her bedroom full speed—that girl doesn’t do anything slow. I barely have time to protect my junk before she collides with me, launching her body at me on the couch. When she’s in my lap, she puts her hands on my shoulders, her face too close to mine and her voice too loud, her excitement obvious. “I’m so excited you’re gonna watch me tonight while Mama goes on her date! Come on, come on! Let’s play tea party.”

  She climbs off my lap and reaches for my hand, yanking with all her four-year-old might to get me off the couch. I play along and let her pull me up, then lead me down the hall to her bedroom, where she already has everything all set out.

  “When’d you get all this set up?”

  “Just now when Mama told me you were stayin’.” She has two places set at her midget table, and she goes over to pull out a chair for me.

  Raising an eyebrow, I say, “Isn’t that my job?”

  She giggles and goes to her pretend stove while I fold my too-tall frame in these step stools she calls chairs. I just know before the night is through, I’m going to break this thing and end up sprawled out on my ass.

  “Don’t forget your hat.”

  “My what?”

  “Your hat,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You have to wear a hat for the tea party. It’s the rules.”

  I look over to where she’s pointing. There’s a whole pile of pink and purple and bright yellow hats in a heap in front of her bed. I’m sure my face must show the horror I’m feeling when I look back at her. “Can’t I wear a baseball hat? I have one in my car. I can go grab it. It’ll only take me a minute.”

  Her smile turns to a scowl in the time it takes me to blink. “Baseball hats aren’t allowed at tea parties. You have to wear one of those.” She crosses her arms, her little toes tapping out her impatience. “Uncle Cade wore them.”

  I snort, shaking my head. “And don’t think I won’t remind him of it the next time we talk. All right, hand me the yellow. I think that’s my color.”

  She nods seriously and goes to grab it, then brings it back and places it on my head, adjusting it a little before it’s apparently just right.

  “All done?” I ask.

  “Yep. It’s dinnertime now.”

  I grab the play bowl in front of me and bring it to my lips.

  “No! Not like that! Tea first. And don’t forget to drink with your pinky out.”

  “My pinky.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs. “Dunno. That’s just what Mama told Cade, so you have to do it, too.”

  I laugh, shaking my head, and do as she told me, watching her bounce from thing to thing, thankful I’m here with her tonight, because if anyone can keep my mind off Tess and what she’s doing right now, it’s this little girl.

  tessa

  I’m not sure I’ve ever been to as fancy a restaurant as the one Greg brings me to, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more out of place. It’s intimate, the small dining room holding only a dozen or so tables. Candlelight flickers everywhere I look, the overhead lights of the chandeliers set low. The waitstaff is dressed in tuxedos, and there are way too many utensils spread out in front of me to know which ones are appropriate to use.

  I was uncomfortable from the minute we walked in, and that feeling hasn’t abated at all. Not through the fresh bread with some kind of fancy, homemade butter they brought out, or our soup course, or when they served the salad. And now that our main dishes are sitting in front of us, I’m wondering if this pit in my stomach is going to ever go away.

  While my mind should be focused on the handsome man across from me, who’s spent the last fifteen minutes talking about world events, it’s actually across town with two people who are probably talking about what dress to put on which doll.

  “Tessa?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I asked if your dinner was all right.”

  “Oh yeah. Yes, it’s delicious.” I glance around, taking in what would most definitely be considered a romantic restaurant by anyone with half a brain. Apparently I don’t have even half a brain. “This place is really something.”

  He studies me for a minute as he cuts into the piece of steak on his plate that’s arranged more like a piece of art than a meal. “It’s too much.”

  Immediately, I shake my head as I hold up a hand. “No, no, it’s really nice.”

  He sighs. “It is,” he agrees, then adds, “but it’s just not you.”

  I cringe a little and offer him a sad smile. “It’s really not. But it’s great. And the food is delicious.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. Please. This is all on me.”

  After a few minutes of silence, he says, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, of course.”

  “Where do you see this going?”

  I sputter a little, having just taken a sip of my wine, and dab at my lips with the cloth napkin. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that this is our third date. Usually by that time, you have a pretty good feel for the other person. I like you, Tessa. A lot. And I’d like to see where this can go, but I can’t be the only one willing to go on the trip. I don’t want to put you on the spot, and I apologize because that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s obvious that you’ve been through a lot—a lot more than I have in my life, despite our age difference. And I get that. I’ve been aware of it and understanding. And I’m willing to wait. But not if there’s nothing here to wait for.”

  It’s not an unreasonable request. He’s been up-front about the fact that he’s actively looking for someone with whom to get serious. And that’s what I’ve been looking for, too. Someone in it for the long haul. I think about what he said, and he’s absolutely right. By this time, I should know whether or not I want to move forward with this guy. And the thing is, I do know. I’ve known since before we went on our second date; I was just too stubborn to accept it.

  Because the truth is so much scarier than this safe, secure man sitting across from me.

  “You’re a great guy, Greg.”

  He must hear my apology in my tone, because he expels a deep breath and offers a nod. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

  “No, don’t be.” Repeating my words from earlier, he says, “This is all on me. I tried to make this work, even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to.”

  “I have enjoyed spending time with you.”

  He offers me a genuine smile, and not for the first time, I’m frustrated with myself that I’m not attracted to him. “Same here.”

&n
bsp; The rest of our dinner is filled with stilted conversation and uncomfortable pauses, and when he drops me off at home, saying he hopes we can stay in touch, I lie and say I’d like the same thing.

  The windows are dark as I walk up to the front door, and I slip into the house, listening for signs of life. When I hear none, I take my shoes off and hook them on my fingers as I walk down the hall toward Haley’s room. Carefully, I push open the door, and what I see inside stops my heart and makes the butterflies lying dormant in my stomach burst to life.

  Jason and Haley are both asleep on her bed, my little girl curled under his arm, her body fitting perfectly into the nook of his side. She’s in full-on princess gear, the tulle of her play-dress bunched up by her knees, her pretend high heels discarded below her small feet. The tiara I’m sure was once perched on her head now sits on Jason’s shoulder. And while seeing that would warm any mother’s heart, that’s not the part that’s making mine skip a beat. No, that achievement is because of the too-tall man whose legs are falling off the sides of Haley’s twin bed. He’s wearing one of Haley’s tea party hats with a bright pink feather boa wrapped around his neck, and I almost can’t breathe.

  Seeing something like this isn’t anything new. I used to come home from working a late shift or a date or a night out with Paige to find Haley and Cade curled up the same way. And I remember thinking then what I wouldn’t give to find a guy who would do that with my daughter. Who would forget about being a manly man for an hour and play dress-up with a little girl who thinks he hangs the moon.

  And all this time while I’ve been searching for him, I’ve been looking in all the wrong places. Trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Because while Greg was safe and steady, someone who looked great on paper, I could never see him doing something like this. The realization that this has been in front of me the whole time—that he has been in front of me the entire time—is jarring, and I stumble over some toys lying on the floor as I make my way out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.