All She Wants

by Anna Cruise

  I popped my head into the living room and said hello. All eyes turned to me, then quickly looked looked beyond. I knew what they were looking at.

  I leaned down and kissed my mother on the cheek, trying to make sure my boobs didn't spill into her lap. I handed her the bouquet. “Happy birthday.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  I studied her critically. Not because she looked terrible but because she looked well. Healthy. After battling both breast cancer and then uterine cancer, I was pretty sure she'd started the slow spiral toward death. But she'd been in remission for over a year and, apart from the short hair, she looked almost like her old self again. She'd put on a little weight—not the bad kind, but the kind that she needed, the kind that made her look less skeletal and more human. It was good to see. I'd hated when she was sick, not only because of what it did to her but because of how I'd reacted to it. I couldn't force myself to be around her when she was going through treatment. Sure, I'd stop by every once in a while, but that was all I could handle. Seeing my mom so fragile, her future so uncertain, had wrecked me. Abby had been the one to take care of her, to step in and help both at home and at our parents' office, even when she'd been going through the unplanned rugrat stage. I would never admit to her how grateful I was that she'd stepped up when I couldn't.

  My dad cleared his throat. “Are you going to introduce us?”

  I tore my gaze away from my mom and looked at Stuart. He stood behind me, his hands still in his pockets, his expression relaxed and friendly. My family, on the other hand, looked like deer caught in the headlights. Because I never brought guys home. Ever.

  “Oh. Right.” I turned to Stuart, smiling brightly. “Everybody, this is Stuart. Stuart Woodcock. Stuart, this is...everyone.”

  West rolled his eyes from his spot on the couch. “I'm West,” he said, offering a wave. “I'd stand up but...” He motioned to his lap and I saw the sleeping bundle curled up against his chest. The Tasmanian Devil apparently was in attendance.

  Stuart smiled. “No worries. Nice to meet you, West.”

  I stole a quick glance at my brother-in-law. He was gorgeous, if you liked the lean, athletic, surfer type. Unfortunately, I did. His brown hair was trimmed a little shorter than usual, just brushing the collar of his baseball academy polo and his eyes, an electric blue, narrowed on me as he watched me looking at him. He wasn't my biggest fan.

  My sister did stand and crossed the room to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said, a sincere smile on her face.

  Stuart looked from her to me, grinning. “Incredible,” he said. “You two really do look exactly alike.”

  We did. Same wavy, more-brown-than-blond hair, same blue eyes, same build despite the fact that Abby did her best to hide her figure while I did everything I could to show it off. There were subtle differences in our appearances but most people couldn't tell our photographs apart. In person, however? That was another story. I was nothing like my sister. Nothing.

  “Weird how that twin thing works,” I said sarcastically.

  My mom shot me a look, her blue eyes filled with warning. “It's nice to meet you,” she said to Stuart, smiling. She tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “And nice to have extra company on my birthday. We were just getting ready to have cake.”

  “We were ready a half an hour ago,” West said pointedly.

  I pressed my lips together. If my parents hadn't been in the room, I would have told him exactly why I'd been late to the party. Every gory detail. But I just swallowed and plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face. “Sorry,” I said instead.

  “What about the kid?” my dad said, motioning to the lump in West's lap. “Should we wake her up?”

  West adjusted Amanda, bringing her up over his shoulder. His shirt rode up, revealing lean, muscled abs, not even a hint of a beer belly. I'd always thought marriage and kids sort of ruined guys. I mean, regular sex was pretty much a guarantee once the chains were on, so it wasn't like they had to work hard to impress anyone. The survival of their genes was a given, deserved or not. But West hadn't let himself go. If anything, he looked better. Marriage and fatherhood fit him like a glove—he looked peaceful. Happy. Beautiful. And I hated it. I hated that my sister had something I didn't have.

  “How old is she?” Stuart whispered.

  “My mom?” I wrinkled my nose. “That's not a very polite thing to ask.”

  He jostled me with his elbow. “No. The kid.”

  “Oh.” My expression cleared. I thought for a minute. “Her birthday was in January, I think?”

  “You don't know?”

  “I'm terrible with dates. She's at least one.”

  “She's cute.”

  I followed his gaze and stared at the blond girl nestled in West's arms. She had a full mop of golden hair, which struck me as odd since both West and my sister were brunettes. My mom had assured me that we were both that blond when we were kids, threatening to haul out the old family photo albums to prove it, but I was still convinced there'd been some sort of mix-up at the hospital.

  “I guess,” I said. “If you like kids.”

  “I do,” Stuart said firmly.

  “Oh, that's right. You save them.” I grinned. “Their souls and minds.”

  He pulled one hand out of his pocket and subtly lifted his middle finger in my direction. I smothered a laugh.

  “So, Stuart,” my dad said, leading us from the living room into the kitchen. “Tell us how you know Annika.”

  Stuart leaned close to me, his breath on my cheek. “Intimately,” he whispered. Louder, he said, “We met at State.”

  “You're a student there?” my dad asked doubtfully.

  I glanced in Stuart's direction. My dad had every reason to doubt that statement. Stuart looked nothing like the guys I saw on campus. Not that he was hotter or that he looked markedly older or anything like that. It wasn't external; there was just something about the way he carried himself, a confidence that identified him as a man, not a boy trying desperately to be one.

  I pulled out a chair at the table and Stuart sat down next to me. His leg brushed mine and the skin on skin contact was like a jolt of electricity.

  “No,” Stuart said, smiling as he answered my dad's question. “I'm just visiting. I was invited to speak at an event. Annika was...assigned to me.”

  Abby narrowed her eyes and I offered an innocent smile. “I'm his escort.”

  “I'll bet you are,” West mumbled.

  He sat in a chair across from us, adjusting Amanda once again. Why they constantly carried that child around was beyond me. Actually, having a kid at all was beyond me. I might not know what the future would hold for me but I could guarantee one thing that would definitely be missing: children.

  Amanda stirred, a sigh escaping her from her lips. She brought her hand to her face and rubbed her eyes. They popped open and she stared sleepily at the people crowded around the table.

  “Hey, princess,” West said, planting a kiss on her cheek. She snuggled into him but her eyes found Stuart and she stared at him with open curiosity. He smiled at her.

  “She has the bluest eyes I've ever seen,” Stuart said to no one in particular.

  Abby nodded and smiled. “She got the double dose from me and her dad.”

  “They aren't any bluer than mine,” I pointed out. Five accusing sets of eyes turned to look at me and I frowned. “What? It's true.”

  West rolled his eyes again and muttered something inaudible under his breath.

  My dad set a large, rectangular cake down in the center of the table. It was frosted white, with a delicate basket weave design. Happy Birthday, Mom was piped across the top in purple.

  “Nice cake,” I commented. I shot a sideways glance at West. “Baker Boy branching out from chocolate chip cookies and brownies?”

  “No,” he said curtly.

  “I made it,” my sister said.

  “You?” I asked. “Since when do you decorate cakes?”<
br />
  Abby opened the box of candles sitting on the table and began planting them in the frosting. “Since I took a class.”

  “You took cake decorating at Harvard on the Hill?” I snorted. “I thought the basket weaving class they offered was real basket weaving. Not cake design.”

  “Knock it off.” My mom's voice was sharp. “You know she's taking classes at State now. She took a class at the hobby store.”

  “When?” I asked. She worked at the office with my parents, had a kid to constantly look after, and was enrolled part-time at State, trying to finish up her real estate degree. “I mean, how on earth do you fit that in along with Baby Gym?”

  “I have a life, you know,” Abby said. She fixed the last candle in place. “Funny how much you can get done when you don't spend all your time partying. But I guess you wouldn't know that...”

  I opened my mouth to respond but my dad interrupted. “Anyone here remember it's your mother's birthday and not opening night at Fight Club?”

  I sank back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. Abby had the lighter poised above the cake but West reached out a hand to stop her. Maybe he was going to reposition her so that she'd be lighting something else on fire instead. Me.

  “Presents,” he said. “Remember?”

  Abby smiled. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.”

  She set the lighter down and left the kitchen. She reappeared a minute later, two blue gift bags in her hands. She handed them to Mom.

  “One from us, one from Amanda.”

  Mom took them and set them down on the table. She pulled tissue out of the first one, unwrapping a picture frame. She grinned and spun the frame around so we could all see. A picture of Amanda, dressed in a blue sundress, sitting on top of one of West's surfboards on the beach, her blond curls windblown, her eyes as blue as the ocean behind her.

  “It's perfect,” she said, beaming. “She's perfect.”

  I glanced at my niece. She had a chubby finger shoved up her nose. Perfect? Not.

  Mom set the photo on the table and reached inside the other bag. A mountain of tissue later, she held a thin, silver bracelet in her hand. Her eyes filled with tears as she studied the tiny charms attached to the bracelet. I craned my neck for a closer look.

  “The charms are all of our birthstones,” Abby said. “The two matching ones are mine and Annika's. The garnet is Amanda's.”

  My mom waited expectantly, clutching the bracelet to her chest.

  “What's the fourth one for?” I asked, noticing the purple charm.

  “For Amanda's baby brother or sister,” West said slowly, the importance of his words hanging in the air.

  My mom erupted into tears and reached for Abby and suddenly, everyone was laughing and crying. Everyone except me.

  “You're pregnant again?” I asked. I looked my sister up and down. She was wearing black yoga pants and a loose t-shirt and I suddenly wondered just how big her new baby bump was. “But you just got your figure back. Finally.”

  She pressed her lips together and sighed. “One of these days, Annika, you're going to figure out that there's more to life than having a hot guy and a hot body.” She shot a disapproving look at Stuart and shook her head.

  “Hey,” I said angrily. “He's more than just a hot body.”

  Stuart reared back in his chair, his eyebrows shooting almost to the ceiling.

  “He's a...humanitarian.” I spat out the word. “He delivers books to poor kids all over the world.”

  Abby's brow furrowed. “What?”

  “And I'm helping him,” I announced triumphantly.

  If I'd had any reservations about going with him, they'd just disappeared. Maybe I wanted to prove to Stuart that I was useful for more than just sex, but now I had another reason to go, too. To prove to my family that I was more than what they thought I was. To prove to my righteous sister that I had more on my mind than hot bodies. And to prove to the rest of my family that I was capable of being more than what I was. What I had been.

  All eyes once again swiveled back to me.

  “Excuse me?” my dad said, cupping his ear with his hand.

  “You heard me,” I said. I drummed my fingers on the table top. “We're delivering books to Mexico tomorrow. Aren't we, Stuart?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

  “You are going to Mexico? To help people?” Abby made it sound like I'd just said I was donating a kidney.

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you haven't done anything selfless or to help anyone since...I don't know...ever?”

  “That's not true!”

  “Girls,” my dad began.

  But I wasn't finished. “What about what I did for you and West? That wasn't selfless??”

  Abby put her hands on her hips. “It was the least you could do. After you tried to screw things up between us.”

  “Girls.” Dad's voice was sharper this time.

  “Still holding on to that, are we?” I asked, smirking. “If it's any consolation, he wasn't that good.”

  Abby's face turned red. She took a step toward me and I shrank back, wondering if maybe I'd pushed her too far. Stuart watched with unabashed interest.

  “Abby.” West frowned. “Come here.”

  She hesitated, then turned on her heel like an obedient dog and went and stood by West. She glowered at me, her eyes shooting daggers.

  “I know we're not big on family get-togethers,” West said. He positioned Amanda so she was facing forward. Her eyes lit up when she saw the cake on the table. “But do you think we can spend fifteen minutes together without fighting? Just this once?”

  I glared across the table at my sister and drummed my fingers faster.

  “Not just for your mom,” West said, nodding in her direction. “But for the poor guy who looks like he just entered the Twilight Zone.”

  I turned my head and looked at Stuart. He had his hand on his forehead, holding back his hair.

  “Fine,” I said. “Let's get this over with and cut the damn cake.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “Well, that was fun.”

  I picked up one of the rolled tacos sitting in the paper boat in front of me and bit into it. Guacamole oozed across my lips and dripped down my fingers. I licked it off.

  “A blast,” I said.

  Stuart gripped the massive carne asada burrito he'd ordered and tore off a mouthful. “Is it always like that?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  We were back in Mission Beach, the Big Dipper coaster visible from our table at Roberto's. We'd spent exactly fifteen minutes at the house, ate our cake in awkward silence, the only sound Amanda jabbering senselessly over the piece of cake she eventually smeared across her face. It was like a silent alarm went off because, at the end of fifteen minutes, I sprang out of my chair and announced we were leaving. After a quick hug for Mom and handshakes from Stuart all around, we left. And I'd headed straight to Roberto's.

  “You want cake chunks on your legs?” Stuart had asked incredulously when we pulled into the same parking space we'd occupied the previous day.

  “No, you idiot. I need food. Real food.” And I'd killed the ignition and crossed the street to the Mexican food place across the street.

  Stuart reached for his drink. “I always thought it would be cool to have a twin. Guess I was wrong.”

  I shoved the rest of the rolled taco in my mouth and washed it down with my soda. “Cool? I wouldn't use that term, no.”

  “You and your sister don't get along?”

  I picked up another taco. I wasn't sure how to answer that question, at least not without painting myself as a royal bitch. I smiled to myself. Who was I kidding? I was a bitch. Always had been, even before I knew what the term meant. But just because I recognized this didn't mean I wanted to share it with Stuart.

  “Not really, no.”

  “Wanna tell me what happened with you an
d her husband?” he asked. He kept his tone light.

  “What do you think happened?”

  He shrugged. “Not my place to guess. Or ask, really. So if you don't want to answer, you don't have to. I understand.”

  I looked out the window at the coaster. The cars were on the incline, riding up to the highest pinnacle. It would drop within a matter of seconds, uncertainty and anxiety replaced by the thrill of the dips and dives.

  “I made a mistake,” I said finally.

  I'd never called it that. I'd never fully admitted responsibility. Maybe a little bit to Abby, that day in her bedroom. But apologies weren't really my thing. And neither were owning up to my mistakes.

  “A big one?” he asked.

  “Big enough.” I took a deep breath. “They weren't serious yet. As a couple, I mean. And not like that made it okay, but it's what I tell myself.”

  Stuart nodded. “And she forgave you?”

  “What do you think?”

  He took another drink of soda. “I think she's trying to.”

  “Yeah. I think so, too.” I was ready to steer the conversation away from me. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  He took the hint. “Nope,” he said, biting off another hunk of burrito. “No parents, either.”

  “Oh, so you're the one without a mother? You raised yourself? Grew up homeless and somehow put yourself through college and then decided to become some do-gooder to help make the world a better place?”

  “No. But damn, that does make a better sounding bio” He grinned. “Nah. My parents died when I was little. Car crash. I never knew them. My aunt and uncle raised me.”

  “Like Peter Parker.”

  “You're a Spiderman fan?”

  “Toby Maguire was hot. In a nerdy, 'strong and silent' sort of way.”

  Stuart smiled again. “If you say so.” He wiped his fingers on the paper napkin in front of him before reaching for his burrito again. “No. Not like Peter Parker, either. Just an aunt and uncle who stepped in to raise me. They didn't have kids so it was just the three of us.”