He narrowed his eyes. "And what is this?"
"A fling," I said, choking down the hurt in my voice. "Where you get to swoop in and play house because you never had a real home."
The instant the words left my mouth I wanted to stuff them back down but it was already too late. His eyes turned cold and he stood up slowly. "Maybe I'll go back earlier then."
"Yeah, maybe that's a brilliant fucking idea," I choked.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Charlie
It was impossible for me to say these hurtful things while looking him in the eye, so I turned my back to him and left the room and went Malcolm's room. He was standing expectantly at the end of his crib and I scooped him up, hugging him close to my body.
Jameson appeared in the doorway and for one terrible moment, I thought he was going to start yelling. The vein stood out on his forehead and his nostrils flared. But when he saw Malcolm in my arms, his face softened and he swallowed down whatever it was he was going to fling at me. "Bye, buddy," he said softly, lifting Malcolm's chubby fingers to his lips and giving him a quick kiss.
"Bye bye!" Malcolm yelled, waving frantically. "Bye bye! Bye bye!"
Jameson made a noise that could have been a laugh but could have also been a sob. I couldn't tell. I was too busy hiding my face so he couldn't see the tears that were gathering in my eyes. "Goodbye," he said again in a choked whisper and I buried my face in my son's neck until the noise of footsteps on the staircase ended and I knew he was far enough away that I wouldn't mistakenly reach out and grab him.
When I finally got downstairs, I saw the front door standing wide open and heard the sound of a car engine retreating in the distance. And over my head, I heard the squeak of the floorboards and knew that my mother had heard it all.
I shifted my weight to one side and reached out to touch the open door as if it still contained traces of him. I blinked and sudden anger flashed in my veins again. But who was I angry with? Him or myself?
Closing the door was like pushing against a boulder, it felt immovable under my fingertips like it was actively pushing back.
But I managed to shut it.
Because what the hell else was I going to do?
"Mr. Jameson went bye bye," I told Malcolm softly. "He was a nice man, wasn't he?"
"School bus," he answered.
I laughed and hugged him close, then brushed my fingers against the door.
What the hell was going on with me? I had no illusions walking into this that Jameson would stay. Hell, he told me from the very beginning that we were just going to have a little bit of fun. It was just a one-night stand.
But how fucking dare he show up again yesterday? Turning that one-night into two...fuck, we'd already said our goodbyes. Yesterday I was already starting to train myself to forget his smile, to forget the way his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. I was already actively pushing away the sound of his laugh, and the way his arm felt around my shoulders as my son slept in my lap. Yesterday I was ready to go about my life the way it had been right up until he burst back into it and busted a hole wide open inside of my chest. I was stronger than this, but at the moment I felt so weak that the strongest thing I could do was just close that door.
"That your man?" my mother asked at the bottom of the stairs. "The one you were out with late last night?"
I looked up sharply. "Don't worry mom," I told her sharply. "He's gone."
Her mouth twisted, and I braced myself for her snide comment. But instead, she said gently. "So sorry, hon. We all make mistakes."
I stood up straighter. Malcolm had a fistful of my hair in his hand and was yanking it was all his might, making my eyes water. That was why water was coming into my eyes. I wasn't crying, not at all. "I didn't feel like he was a mistake," I confessed. "But it's not like I wanted to marry him or anything."
"He would've been a good one to marry," my mom said. I blinked in surprise. "He was good with little Mac."
I swallowed and looked at my son. "Is that true?" I asked him. "Did you like Mr. Jameson?"
"Da," he said shoving handful of my hair in his mouth.
"No, he is not your Da," I said tightly. "I'm your mama, and that's your MomMom."
He pointed, "MomMom," and reached out his arms towards my mom.
"Here you go. I got you little guy." My mother took him into her arms and bounced up and down to make him laugh.
I felt myself smiling in spite of everything. "You're looking good, Mom," I told her truthfully, a pang of guilt sounding in my brain when I realized just how little attention I'd been paying to her moods. "How are you feeling?"
She took a deep breath. "Strange," she confessed. "But Dr. Kaza said I'd be a little loopy for a few weeks as I adjusted to the new dose."
"You're feeling dizzy?" I asked, immediately concerned.
She shook her head. "Not all the time. It comes and goes." She smiled brightly. "I'm doing better, Charlie-girl. I swear."
I took a deep breath and nodded, tears welling in my eyes. "Mom," I sobbed, and she opened her arm out to fold me back into her embrace. I took a deep, shuddering breath against her shoulder, determined not to fall apart. I wasn't going to be broken by this. It wasn't worth it, right?
My mother looked at me. "Go take a long shower, girlie," she said. "Wash it off."
I blinked. Sometimes my mother surprised the hell out of me. "Okay," I said dumbly.
But the longest, hottest shower in the world did nothing to stop the ache in my heart.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jameson
"Ah! The conquering hero!" Fletch bellowed from behind the bar. "Welcome home, my friend!"
"Home?" I muttered in disbelief. "Your shitty bar is far from my home, my man."
My hand disappeared into his giant meathook and I let him have the pleasure of crushing my fingers for a moment before I extricated my hand. "You spend more time here when you're in Philly than anywhere else," Fletch pointed out. "So it may as well be your home."
"Jesus Christ that's depressing," I winced as I slid onto the barstool and loosened my tie.
"So what brings you to the City of Brotherly Shove?" Fletch asked, chuckling at his tired joke before going to the top shelf and pulling down the bottle of Macallan 25 he kept on hand just for me. "It's been a while since I've seen your ugly face."
"Work," I shrugged.
"You sound thrilled." He poured a tumblerful for me and then one for himself and lifted it to the light. "Good thing none of these drunk shits knows what this bottle you make me keep here is worth," he noted with a growl, nodding in the direction of his regulars. "They'd rob me blind. I'm takin' a real risk having you as a customer."
I slapped down another hundred to add to the stack I'd already piled up for him. "For your troubles, sir," I noted sarcastically.
He nodded his thanks and tucked his tip into his belt. "Speaking of troubles," he asked, sipping his Scotch and chewing methodically. "What are yours?"
"What makes you think I have troubles?" I wanted to know.
"A rich shit like you? I dunno. Maybe your private jet can't be reupholstered in gold until Tuesday." I snorted. "Fuck do I know what's wrong with you," he went on, warming to his subject. "All I know is you look like shit. Tell your private brow waxer or whoever the fuck you employ to keep you looking spiffy that they're fired."
"Fletch you are probably the only man in the world with the balls big enough to tell me I look like shit to my face," I said, lifting my tumbler to him. He clinked my glass and we both took long draughts.
"Goddamn that's smooth," Fletch growled in appreciation. "Almost makes me forget I just swilled down the equivalent of my rent payment." He took another small sip. "So we've established you look like shit and we've also established you ain't got nobody else in your life to call you on the fact that you look like shit. So spill it. What's eating you, you rich fuck?"
I chuckled into my tumbler. "You remind me of my dad, you know that?"
"The
General? I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should. He was a good man." I took another long draught. "Thing is though, you're actually not the only one in my life with the balls to tell me I look like hell." My jaw clenched and for a second I thought about dropping it, but the Scotch was loosening my tongue and Fletch was right. As pathetic as it was to use him as my therapist - this bartender I only saw when I blew into town every five or six months or so - he really was the only one who would give it to me straight. "The problem is that the person who'd tell me that is the reason I look like hell in the first place."
"Chicks," Fletch said, nodding wisely, his big walrus mustache bobbing in sympathy.
"Chicks," I agreed.
"She's got you spun? Pussy that good?"
I bristled a little. "Tryin' to get me to kiss and tell?" I laughed. "You're the biggest fucking gossip in this city."
"It's my job to know things, is all. And to know when to keep my mouth shut about the things I know."
I sighed and pulled out another fifty. "Your silence isn't really needed on this matter," I said, sliding it across the bar to him. "She was just a girl in a town. I actually knew her way back when. Or rather, of her. Back when my Dad was stationed in Crown Creek he had to pull some strings to get me into the Reckless Falls school district." I took another drink, warming to my topic. "And when I saw her, it was kind of like...fuck, you know? She had that feeling about her, that sort of small-town get-shit-doneness where you knew there isn't an ounce of bullshit in her bloodstream." I looked up at Fletch helplessly. "She fucking hit me with her car. And it was the best thing that's happened to me in a long fucking time." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I mean.We had some fun but it couldn't last, right?"
Fletch's mustache wobbled and he stood straight again and knocked back the rest of the twenty-five-year-old Scotch like it was a shot. "And why the fuck would you say it can't last?" he asked. "You got feelings for this chick?"
"No. I mean, yeah, I obviously have fucking feelings for her." I was getting pissed off and I didn't know why. "We had this... connection. Like I knew her already. It was more than just that familiarity from passing her in the school hallway. It was...It was like I'd already spent my whole life with her when it was really only two days." I looked up at Fletch who was watching me skeptically. "What?" I exploded. "I know. Two days isn't nearly enough time to figure you love someone."
"Now I ain't never said nothin' about love," Fletch drawled.
"What?"
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the bar. "You're talking love, Mr. Fancypants? Is that really the word I just heard come out of your pretty mouth?"
I stared at him and for probably the first time in my life I was completely at a loss for words. "You did," I finally exhaled. "Didn't you? But that's fucking nuts, right? I must be drunk." I slammed back the rest of my Scotch and waited for the spins to start.
But I stayed stone cold sober. Sober. And totally fucking in love. "Holy fuck," I breathed.
"Well," Fletch chuckled, standing back up again. "You're in love. No wonder you look like shit."
"The fuck do I do now?" I wondered.
Fletch let out a walrus's bellow, so loud it made my ears ring. He roared with laughter and slammed his ham-hock hand down on the bar. "Fuck, are you kidding me right now?" he guffawed. "You know how many times your lily-white, caviar-eating ass has sat on that very bar stool and lectured me on the merits of going with your gut? You're asking me what to do about the chick you fell for like you don't fucking already know?"
"She told me to get out," I blurted. "Because I told her it was just a bit of fun and she knew it was just a fling."
Fletch's laugh bubbled away and he looked serious. "Well damn son," he drawled. "Sounds like you done fucked that right up."
I buried my head in my hands. "I did," I said. "I was in love with her and fucked it right up."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlie
"Hello?" I called as I pushed open the door to Honey Bee's bakery.
"Is that really you?" Bee cried out from back in the kitchen. "Charlie?! Did I finally lure you in here with the promise of free baked goods?
I bit my lip and smiled and walked all the way into her sweet little shop. "It smells amazing in here!" I cried, inhaling deeply.
"Butter," she said with a knowing nod, wiping her floury hands on her apron. "Have you really never been in here yet? And what are you doing here in the morning?"
I shrugged. "I needed to get out," I said, ignoring the way her eyebrows zoomed upward. I already knew that was out of character for me.
But then again I'd been doing a lot of out-of-character things these past few days.
Since Jameson left, I'd stopped by the diner and said hi to all my old co-workers. I'd swung by Maisie's house and thanked her again for taking such good care of Malcolm the night of the fever. I'd made plans with Gina for us to drop by and give her some of Malcolm's hand-me-down baby toys. It felt odd putting myself out there, but the more that I did, the more that I saw that the people I cared for cared for me back. It was odd how odd that felt.
"How long has it been since I first asked you to come?" Bee was saying as she bustled around behind the counter with her fancy coffee machine.
I thought for a second. Bee and I had become friends back when I worked at the diner and she made bread deliveries in her beat-up old truck. One afternoon she was out on a delivery at the moment my mom called to say Malcolm had fallen at the park. Bee drove that old delivery van faster than any ambulance to get him to the hospital. And we'd been good friends ever since.
Although, technically it had been her that was the good friend. I had been a flake.
Up until now.
"Here," she said, grabbing a napkin and picking out something buttery and flaky from her glass case. "I've just started trying my hand at croissants. What do you think?"
"I don't have much time," I mumbled, then bit into the flaky confection. "Oh my God," I said, sitting down.
"Better than sex, huh?"
I reddened and she noticed and pulled out a chair. "Oh! So maybe not quite as good as the sex you've been having?"
"I'm not having any sex right now," I said, sounding comically glum.
She burst out laughing. "Well, I mean neither am I. Right now." She waggled her eyebrows. "But what happened? Weren't you seeing somebody?"
"Saw," I said briskly. "Past tense. I saw someone exactly twice."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"But it was good? The two times."
I inhaled sharply and then smiled, and Bee started laughing again. "You don't need to answer, I know that look. I didn't think you were capable of being all swoony, Charlie."
"I'm not swoony."
"It's a good look on you," she teased. "Makes your cheeks pinker."
"I'm not swoony. We had a one night stand."
"Twice?"
"Okay, two one night stands."
"Did he sleep over?" she interjected.
"What does that have to do with it?"
"It has everything to do with it," she cried, clearly exasperated with my stubbornness. "If you fuck and go, it's a one night stand. If he sleeps over, it's a relationship, no matter how short."
I bit my lip. "He slept over," I realized. "Both times." I chuckled. "I mean the first night we were sleeping upright on my couch because Mac was sick..."
"Aw, he stayed up with you? That's so sweet."
I ran my tongue over my teeth. "Yeah," I said softly. "It was."
"He sounds nice," Bee said. "Why is it past tense?"
"Because he left to go back to his home, wherever the fuck that is?" I hissed through clenched teeth.
Bee fell silent and we both took sips of our coffee. She tapped her foot on the floor for a second, and suddenly burst out. "Did you think he'd stay?"
I took another deep sip of my coffee to give myself time to think. It was a question I knew the right answer to, but I didn
't know if it was the correct answer. "I always knew that he was going to leave, he told me from the get-go. But I - "
"You thought he might change his mind?"
"I mean -" there was a hot flush creeping up the back of my neck. "I don't know why it worked, but it did. We have nothing in common. I mean absolutely nothing. He's traveled, lived all over the world, I've never even been on an airplane. He has more money than God, I get excited when they have the dented can sale at the IGA." Bee snorted and I grinned at her. "He isn't tied down in any way, and I have a rugrat attached to me for the next eighteen years."
"The cutest rugrat in the world."
"Oh, for sure," I smiled. "But still. Jameson's free and unencumbered. And I have all this...stuff I've got to worry about."
"How's your mom doing?" Bee interjected.
"She's having dizzy spells with the new meds, she says. But she says it's getting better. She hasn't had one in a while that I've seen, so hopefully, she's even-ing out."
"Good." Bee nodded. "So this guy? Jameson was his name? He just...left?"
I winced. "Well, no. It wasn't entirely on him."
Bee smiled over the rim of her coffee cup. "What did you do?"
"I might, yeah I might have given him the finger and told him it was just a fling and didn't mean anything."
She raised her eyebrows. "And that's not true?"
"I don't know!" I wailed. "It should be true. Fuck I mean we spent a grand total of forty-eight hours together. Maybe less. That's not enough time to know anything about a person and yet I can't stop thinking about him and walking around all dazed because I feel like I've lost something important and I can't remember where I put it." I buried my head in my hands, dislodging a wayward curl. "Like maybe my mind."
"Sounds like me," Bee chuckled. "When things started with Finn and Jackson."
At Any Price Page 13