I return to the journal entry I was working on but am interrupted a minute later by an incoming text.
Thanks
His one word response makes me feel like my text was inadequate.
I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I can come down there this afternoon if you want some company.
I tap my fingertips on my desk and stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.
I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay.
I hate that word, okay. People toss it around whether they are or not. It’s such a throwaway word. I can’t imagine he’s really doing well, but I’m not going to force myself on him.
I’m always here if you want to talk.
His simple replies don’t give much away about his mood, but he didn’t want me to come down there, hell, he didn’t even want to pick up his phone to talk to me. It hurts a little, but I know our relationship isn’t what it used to be. I remind myself this isn’t about me and I’m not the only person he has to talk to. I try to get on with my day, but thoughts of Luke permeate the rest of the afternoon, making attempts to get work done only moderately successful.
After dinner and a round of miniature golf, Amelia came home and went straight to bed, exhausted from her week. The latest cliché rom-com and a pint of rocky road have turned the remainder of my Friday night into the escape I needed after an emotionally draining day spent worrying about Luke.
As the credits roll, I head into the kitchen to dispose of the now empty container. I’m refilling my water glass when the sudden chime of the doorbell almost causes me to drop the now full glass. I glance at the microwave clock, it’s well past midnight. My mind races with scenarios of who could be at my door at this hour, and none of them are pleasant.
I slowly creep toward the front door, careful not to make noise that would alert whoever is standing on the other side of it that I’m near it. I peer through the peep hole, but don’t see anyone, so I peek through the blinds of the big window facing the street. There’s a white sedan sitting in front of my house. The driver is still in the car with the engine running.
The doorbell rings again and I jump. I look through the peep hole again, but still don’t see anyone.
I’m debating what I should do when a familiar voice startles yet relieves me at the same time. “Jessica, it’s Luke.”
I open the door to find him leaning against the wall adjacent to the door.
“You’re home!” He smiles widely and pushes himself off the wall. He walks past me into the house before I get any words out.
I turn to follow him in but am stopped by another man’s voice.
“Mrs. Taylor?” The driver of the white sedan is walking up my driveway.
“Um, no, I’m not Mrs. Taylor.”
“Oh, sorry. He said he wanted to go home to his wife.” The young man blushes realizing his mistake and the implication that if I’m not Mrs. Taylor I may not be happy to hear of her. “He gave me this address,” he quickly adds.
“No, I mean there is no Mrs. Taylor, but I’m…a friend,” I try to explain, without making the young man endure too much complicated backstory.
“Okay.” The young man blushes again and I realize I’ve implied something very different than I intended.
I bite my tongue and resist the urge to clarify anything else about my relationship with Luke.
“Mr. Taylor overpaid me. He gave me three hundred dollars.”
I look back into the house. I can’t see him at first, but then he stumbles into view while trying to remove one of his shoes with the opposite foot. He nearly falls over but catches himself on the side table. Thankfully he has chosen to sit down on the couch before he continues.
“Keep it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure he was a pain in the ass.” I laugh.
The young man, finally convinced that his patron isn’t in trouble with me or “Mrs. Taylor”, visibly relaxes. “He was fine. He actually gave me some really good advice about starting my own business.”
I nod and smile at the young man. “Thank you for getting him here safely.”
“Have a good night, ma’am. And thank your friend for me in the morning, will ya?”
“I will. Good night.” I shut the door and walk to the living room.
Luke has removed his shoes and jacket and is laying face-up, eyes closed on the couch. I go upstairs and grab a pillow and blanket from the linen closet. I plan on covering Luke up and heading back upstairs to my own bed, but when I return he’s sitting up watching the television through unfocused eyes.
“What’re you watching?” he asks, shaking his head. The movement causes him to sway to one side.
“Currently I’m watching a very drunk man trying to sit on a couch.” He squints at the television. There’s something boyish in his study of it and it makes me smile.
He turns his attention toward me. “I forgot how much I like tequila.” He pats the couch and I take a seat next to him, handing him the pillow.
“I have a feeling you’ll forget again by tomorrow morning.”
Luke laughs and lets his eyes gaze down. He reaches up and touches the bow in the center of the neckline of my pajamas. “I like your jammies,” he says with a smirk.
I slap his hand away from the Hello Kitty pajamas Amelia got me for my birthday. She earned money helping my mom with yard work and was so proud of the fact she paid for them with her own money. “Amelia got them for me.”
“Is she here?” Luke jumps up from the couch. I quickly grab his leg and then his arm and pull him back down. “You’re not waking her up.”
“Okay.” Luke frowns at me, like a little kid. “I miss her.”
“She misses you, too.” I try to think of the right words, even though I suspect there aren’t any. “Luke, I’m really sorry about your dad. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” Luke takes a deep breath and leans back with a thud against the back of the couch. “I realized something tonight.”
“What’s that?” I curl my legs up underneath me.
“I’m an orphan now.” He stares up at the ceiling.
“Luke…” I stop when I realize I don’t know what to say.
“I am, both of my parents are gone.” He squeezes his eyes shut like he may be able to rid his head of the pain if he pushes hard enough.
I quietly scoot to the other end of the couch in an effort to give him a little space, but not leave him alone. We sit in silence for several minutes. His efforts must have worked for now because his pained expression transforms into a small smile. He opens his eyes and although the sadness is still there, there is also a hint of playfulness and his smirk is back. “It’s awful, people are going to start calling me little orphan Lukey.”
His search for some light in the dark is heartbreaking and encouraging at the same time. “No one is going to call you that. Besides I think you have more in common with Daddy Warbucks than you ever will with Annie.”
Luke cocks his head to one side. “It’s not usually my thing, but you can call me daddy if you want.”
I shake my head and toss a couch pillow at him. The alcohol has dulled his responses and it hits him in the face. I can’t help but laugh. “I’m never calling you daddy.”
He laughs and then yawns.
“You need some sleep.” As I walk to the kitchen, I hear rustling fabric and assume Luke is taking off his jeans. I busy myself getting him a glass of water and ibuprofen from my purse.
When I return to the family room, he’s already laying down underneath the blanket. I see Luke’s pants and t-shirt have joined his jacket on the arm of the couch. I stand in front of him and he opens his eyes.
“You should take these and drink some water.”
“Thanks,” he says as he sits up. The blanket falls to his waist reveali
ng his bare, muscular chest.
I watch him swallow the pills and then lick his lips to wipe away any excess water. Even in his drunken state, he notices me watching him. I expect him to smirk or say something laced with sexual connotations, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lays down, covering himself with the blanket.
He closes his eyes and I take that as my cue. I’m about to switch off the light when his voice, raspy from too much tequila, stops me.
“Remember when you used to love me?”
His words strangle my heart and my voice catches in my throat. I turn around and look to the couch, where he’s laying with his eyes closed. He appears to be passed out, so I switch off the light.
As I leave the room, his voice fills the darkness. “I used to be a very lucky man.”
I hear faint noise coming from downstairs. I pull on my robe, clean my teeth and run a brush through my messy hair.
When I come in to the family room, Luke is already dressed and folding the blanket.
“Good morning,” I say softly, not wanting to startle him, not to mention I’m sure his head is in no condition for loud noises this morning.
“It’s definitely morning, the good part is debatable.” Luke looks surprisingly well considering.
“Coffee?” I offer, already pulling mugs from the cabinet.
“That would be great.”
I busy myself making coffee while Luke disappears into the powder room. He emerges as I’m placing a mug on the counter for him.
“Thanks.” He nods and raises his mug to me. “For this and for letting me stay here last night.”
“Not a problem.”
“Last night was a shit show. I thought grabbing a drink would take the edge off, dull things a little. I don’t remember a lot past a certain point, but I do remember buying more than one bottle of tequila and pouring shots for everyone at the bar.” Luke scrubs a hand across his stubble.
“Very generous of you.”
“Very stupid of me. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble last night.”
“You were fine. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you that drunk.”
“And you never will again.” He drains his cup and sets it down.
“How’s your head? Want more ibuprofen?”
“Please.”
“Do you need a ride back to San Diego?” I ask, grabbing the pill container from my purse and tossing it to him.
“You don’t have to do that, you’ve done enough.”
“Oh, I wasn’t going to take you. I was asking if you needed one.” I wink at him.
Luke narrows his eyes at me, but his mouth curls up. “Enjoy it, Adams. You’ve caught me in a weak moment. Next time you see me you won’t be able to outwit me so easily.” His use of my maiden name became something of a term of endearment between us and it warms something in my chest.
“I believe it.” I smile. “Seriously, I can drive you back if you want.”
“I already called an Uber. I wanted to be sure to be out of here before Amelia woke up. As much as I’d love to see her again, it’s probably not a good idea.”
The moment has passed, and we settle back into our complicated reality. I nod and press my lips together.
Luke walks back to the family room and grabs his keys and wallet from the end table. “Thanks again, Jess. Yesterday was a rough day and…”
“You don’t need to explain. I’m happy I could help in a small way.” I lean back against the counter. “If you ever want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”
“Thanks.” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead looks down at his phone. “My ride is here.”
I push off from the counter and follow him to the door.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” he says as he steps onto the porch.
“I thought you were traveling this week?” Luke mentioned a few weeks ago needing to be away from the winery this coming week, that he needed to travel with Christina to introduce her to more key players in the investments she’ll be taking over.
“Not anymore.” He looks down briefly.
“Right, sorry.” I said it without thinking. He’ll be busy with funeral arrangements this week.
He turns to head out to the waiting car but stops and turns back to me again. “You don’t have to, but if you want to come to the funeral…I mean, you’re one of the only people left in my life that knew my dad.”
I hide my surprise and answer quickly. “I’ll be there.”
Luke stands still for a moment, cocking his head to one side. “It’s odd how a death can bring people together. I haven’t seen my aunt in years, not since she had a falling out with my dad. She called yesterday, and we talked for over an hour.”
“That’s good.” Luke doesn’t talk about his family often and I want him to continue. “Death has a way of forcing people to reexamine things and to let go of things that don’t ultimately matter.”
Luke nods. “Right. It also reminds people of what they have and what they should be thankful for. It reminds people what’s worth fighting for.”
I see something in Luke’s eyes, almost a determination. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns and heads out to the waiting car, leaving me to wrestle with my complicated feelings.
Chapter 18
It’s the first official day of fall, but you’d never guess it by the weather. The heatwave engulfing southern California makes me thankful the funeral is taking place closer to the coast, where the onshore breeze is a welcome relief from the triple digit temperatures of Temecula.
The ceremony is simple and tasteful. Luke’s dad was a well-respected executive at a large corporation headquartered in downtown San Diego, so the lawn is filled with men in expensive suits and women in heels not suitable for the grass we’re standing on. Even though I feel slightly underdressed, I’m thankful I decided to go with a simple black tank dress and flat sandals. I may not be as fancy as some of the other mourners in attendance, but I’m definitely more comfortable.
I stand in the back and search for Luke. He let me know Claire and Finn weren’t going to be at the ceremony today. It was a nice gesture on his part, but unnecessary. Meeting Claire made me realize she’s not the enemy I had drawn her to be in my head.
He’s sitting up front with what’s left of his family. I recognize his aunt and cousins from the times I met them in high school. Luke previously mentioned his uncle passed away while he was in college, after we broke up.
The pastor speaks, followed by several of Mr. Taylor’s business colleagues. They all talk about how dedicated he was to his career, but also his family. It’s interesting to hear how much outsiders thought he adored his wife and son, knowing Luke doesn’t remember things the same way.
I bow my head during the closing prayer and say my own version which includes a request for peace for Luke.
“Amen,” the pastor says, and the crowd begins to disperse. Luke is approached by various people. He shakes their hands and offers slight smiles to everyone.
After several of these polite encounters, he scans the crowd. He finds me and excuses himself from the man who just handed him a business card.
“Hey.” Luke walks toward me, hands in pockets.
“Hi.” I resist the urge to pull him in for a hug.
“You came.”
“Of course. How’re you doing?”
“It sucks.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m looking forward to this day being over.”
“I can only imagine.”
“It’s like we finally figured out how to have some sort of normal relationship and now he’s gone.” Luke shakes his head.
“I’m so sorry, Luke. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not, but I’m glad he got to meet Finn, and that I have a picture of them together. He lit up when he met him, said he reminded hi
m of me.” Luke stares distantly at the crowd. “Some of these people knew him better than I did.”
I realize Luke needs to hear something. “Luke, your dad loved you, even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted.”
Luke shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m going to make sure Finn gets what he needs from me.”
“I know you will.” I place a hand on his arm and he looks down at it.
“He quit drinking and was trying to reconnect with me for months before I agreed to meet up with him. I had low expectations going in, but he held Finn for a long time. Told him he was lucky to have such a great dad, and grandpa, of course.” Luke smiles remembering the moment. The thought of the three generations of Taylors together makes me smile, too.
I don’t resist when the urge strikes again. I wrap my arms around him and lean my forehead against his chest as it rises and falls with Luke’s heavy breaths. He wraps his arms around me, too, and holds on until we’re interrupted.
“Hey, Luke.” I look up to see a familiar face. “My mom asked if you could pick up ice on your way over.”
Luke looks at his cousin. “Yeah, sure. Hey, Noah, you remember Jessica from when we were teenagers.”
“I thought that was you.” Noah gives me a hug.
“It’s been a long time. How are you?” I say as he lets go. Noah is a few years younger than Luke and used to practically idolize him. He would follow him around family events and tag along on some of our weekend trips to the beach. Luke would pretend to be mildly annoyed by his presence, but I always suspected he actually enjoyed it. Noah was like the brother he didn’t have.
I take a good look at Noah. He looks like an older, bigger version of the kid I once knew. Despite being related, Noah doesn’t look much like Luke. His father had darker features, mimicked in Noah’s olive skin, dark hair and warm brown eyes. As enamored with Luke as I was back then, I still recognized that Noah was a good-looking kid. The girls flocked to him as much for his good looks, as his easy-going attitude and great sense of humor. Seeing Noah today, I’m assuming not much has changed.
“I’m doing okay. How about you? Married? Kids?”
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