Me: I’m going with him.
Malcom: Don’t do that to him.
Me: He needs me for a ride anyway.
Malcom: Then drop him off and pick him up.
Me: No, I’m going. I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together for your birthday.
Malcom: It’s okay. I understand. You can make it up to me some other time.
Maybe it isn’t a good idea and maybe I’ll embarrass him, but I don’t care. I think that’s what moms are supposed to do anyway.
I’m sitting two rows back and at the end of an aisle, but I can still see them. Sawyer and Amy are seated in the middle. There aren’t many movie goers tonight. I’ve almost eaten all of my popcorn and the film hasn’t even started yet.
I feel like a horrible person for not asking sooner about Amy’s little brothers. She said none of them really know who their dads are. She’s pretty sure all of them have a different father, but she couldn’t say for sure. I asked her some questions on the ride to the movie. I questioned her about who was watching the boys while we were out at the movies. She said there is a neighbor two doors down who watches them a lot. It was almost as if it was more of a ruse than anything. Like she says that just to keep people from being so nosey. She did say that her mom was home tonight though.
I think I might have scared them by sitting in here. They are stiff as boards as far as I can tell. My popcorn’s gone, and I didn’t even really want to watch this movie. I text Sawyer I’ll be back after the movie is over and head out to my car. When I get to my car, I call Malcom.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have gone on the date with Sawyer. I think I was making things awkward. I left.”
All Malcom does is laugh.
I can’t help but smile. “Quit laughing. It’s not funny.”
“Oh, but it is. Of course, you were making it awkward. The most they’ll do at the movies is play with each other. It’s not like they’re going to have sex.”
Foreplay? “You don’t think they’d… They wouldn’t do that. Not at the movies.”
“You’re right, they wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Now I feel like I need to go back in there and tell them to keep their hands to themselves. They probably need the birds and the bees talk. You think?”
“Leave them alone, Adaline. Just pick them up in two hours.”
“What am I supposed to do until then?”
“Have a drink with me?”
I can’t drink and drive kids around. He’s crazy. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs. “You walked right past me at the bar when you exited The Brew & View.”
THIRTY
I began my new job as intern to the editorial assistant at GrindHouse publishing two weeks ago. I’ve mainly been getting coffee every day and sorting through old manuscripts. I’ve not met the editor yet, but if he’s anything like his assistant, I don’t want to. His assistant’s name is Brice and I just cannot take him seriously. He’s left me alone most of the day today, but I get a really weird vibe from him.
Mom has had to begin picking the boys up from school because I’m not back home from the city until seven every night. I’m just glad GrindHouse is closed on the weekends.
It’s Friday, which means I officially have the weekend off starting tonight. I’m making copies of the first two chapters of three novels. They are my weekend project. I heard the front desk lady say earlier that if they cannot find a book to sell and really see some profit, then they are going to go belly up. Then I’ll be without a job, again. I read the titles and blurbs of over fifty books today and these three sounded promising.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s Inez.
“Hey.”
“Guess what girly?!” she says with an excited tone.
“What?”
“Your divorce is finally final. You are no longer a married woman.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Really,” she clarifies.
I scream and then cover my mouth realizing I’m at work and do not want to lose my job.
“Can you meet me for lunch? There are a few final things I wanted to go over with you.”
“I only get thirty minutes.” I had been working through my lunch. I’ve been doing everything I can to give off a good impression.
“It won’t take long. Meet me at the coffee shop,” she says, and the line goes dead without a goodbye.
I met with Inez. It really hasn’t set in that I’m finally divorced. In some ways, I wish I had taken my maiden name back, but instead I made it my middle name. I’m now officially Adaline Jenkins Ripley.
I haven’t seen Malcom in what feels like weeks. Even though I’m home on the weekends, I’ve been bringing work home, like I will tonight. The one night I felt like I could get away from it, the boys were home, and I decided to give them my time instead of Malcom. It’s not that I don’t care for him. I think I love him, but the boys come first.
He has planned a big Valentine’s Day dinner tomorrow night for us even though Valentine’s Day isn’t until Sunday.
For some reason, Stephen said he couldn’t take the boys this weekend, so I have them. I haven’t told them yet that he isn’t coming. I’m pulling into the driveway now. I picked up fried chicken on the way home.
I let Mom know I was getting close when I was in the drive thru line. I walk through the door, and Sawyer, Atticus, Mom and Pops are all seated at the kitchen table. “Are you guys holding an intervention or something?” I joke.
I kick the door shut with my heel and walk from the living room to the kitchen and set the bags on the counter.
“The boys wanted to sit and eat dinner with you, and then they’re going to watch whatever movie you want to watch with them, right boys?” Mom says, as she squints and purses her lips at them.
“So, this wasn’t their idea?” I know it wasn’t their idea.
“They’re boys. They needed a little guidance. I was going to make them make you dinner, but you ruined it by picking it up.”
“Thanks for that, Mom,” Sawyer says.
“Yeah, we have no clue how to cook,” Atticus adds.
“I’m sure Grandma would have taught you.”
The boys are with my parents. They’re fine, but I still feel guilty for coming to spend time with Malcom. I know I shouldn’t. The boys even told me they were fine. Sawyer invited Amy over, and she was already there before I left. I don’t know if anyone has had a talk with Amy about practicing safe sex, and I know I haven’t with Sawyer. I really don’t want to think about it, but if I don’t, and they get pregnant, I’ll never forgive myself.
Getting pregnant as a teen made me have to grow up fast and give up on my own dreams. I don’t want that for my boys or for Amy.
I hate questioning her all the time, but I had to ask where her brothers were. She replied by saying they were staying the weekend with a friend, but I’m not sure she told me the entire truth.
I try to push everything out of my mind. Remove the stress from work, worrying about Amy and the anxiety of not spending time with the boys. I take a deep breath in, let it out, and open Malcom’s door.
It smells delightful. He’s standing by the big window in the living room that faces the lake. It’s frozen over solid. He has a dish towel draped over his right shoulder, and he leans against the glass with his left arm stretched above his head. His shirt has risen up, so I can see the lower muscles in his back. I’m glad I bought and brought some lingerie with me. Even though I can’t stay the night, it doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun before I leave.
He either didn’t hear me come in or he’s enjoying watching the sun set into the lake. “It’s breathtaking. I can’t believe you get to watch this every evening,” I say.
He talks into the glass of the window, “You know you could watch these with me too.”
“I could, but there isn’t enough room for me and the boys.”
He turns and smiles. “I know, that�
�s why I talked to a remodeling company earlier this week about adding on to the house.”
My heart begins to flutter like the wings of a butterfly. I had been meaning to talk to him about what we would do when the divorce was final but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. “I’ve been looking at houses. I found one, and I’m meeting the realtor one day after work this week with the boys.”
His smile fades. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry. This night wasn’t supposed to be about such heavy conversation. I want us to have fun. It’s Valentine’s. We can talk about all this later.” I walk up to him, circle my arms around his neck, and kiss him on his chin before saying, “First up, what is that amazing smell?”
He kisses the top of my hairline. “I made homemade pizza, and for dessert I made cheesecake with a graham cracker crust. Here’s a history fact for you. Graham crackers were created in the 1800s as a way to prevent sexual urges. A fella named Sylvester Graham preached that a bland diet could curb sexual appetite.”
“Are you trying to decrease my sexual urges?” I ask, amused.
He steers me into the kitchen using his hand on the small of my back. “I don’t think it really decreases sexual appetite.”
“Good, because I brought something hoping you had a large sexual appetite tonight.”
His grin is wide, and it shows his pearly whites. He laughs as we sit at the kitchen bar. There are already two slices of pizza on plates.
“Oh, I have an extra-large appetite for that tonight. Even more so than for this pizza pie I made. I’m a hungry boy.”
A fun fact I can tell him hits me. “You want to hear a fact?”
He takes a bite of his pizza. “Sure.”
“You will no longer be sleeping with a married woman. Does that make it more or less exciting?” He may like the fact that it's taboo to be sleeping with a married lady and will no longer want to fool around with me.
He drops his pizza on the plate. “Your divorce is final?”
I nod up and down and then take a drink of the beer next to my plate.
“It makes me want to have sex with you right now.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and also to tell you this…” He wraps his arms around me pulling me to his chest. Our noses are touching, and I’m starting to get anxious. “I’ve been waiting so long to tell you because I knew you wanted me to wait.” He pauses. “I love you, Adaline. One day in October I woke up, and you were all I could think about. Every night, aside from Elsie, you’re the last person I think about. The first person I think about when I wake up. You’re the only person I have the urge to message when something happens during the day. I love you so much.”
I want to cry. Instead, I kiss his lips. The feeling of this not being wrong anymore, knowing I can love him back without any guilt, I can’t even describe it. I lean back so I can stare into his mesmerizing gray eyes and say, “I love you too, Malcom Murray. I started falling for you the first time I heard your voice at my parents’ store. I love you too.”
We never made it to the cheesecake. He barely gave me enough time to change into the lingerie I brought. I walk out of his bathroom in the white lace see-through thing. It has tiny rhinestones around the tops of my breasts that go up the straps of the shoulders. They meet at the nape of my neck, and two thin white straps connect the nape to the bottom hem of the gown. It came with some panties that I didn’t put on. I can see my nipples poking out through the sheer fabric.
Malcom was sitting when I walked in, but he has since gotten up and met me at the end of the bed. He grabs my hand and twirls me around in from of him. “You look fucking hot.”
He moves my hair so he can get a better look at the back. He slowly moves his fingertips from the top of my shoulders down my spine on my exposed flesh. It brings goosebumps to surface on my arms, and my body shakes. I spin around to face him, and he has a small side smirk. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“That you’re fucking hot, and I can’t believe I get to have you.”
He lifts up the fabric and moves his hands up to the mounds on my chest and rubs my nipples as another chill runs through me.
We make love slowly, and it seems to last longer than normal. Usually, I’d rather get it over with, but tonight marks a pivotal time in our relationship. Where we are finally able to actually be together without the burden of my divorce weighing over us.
When we come up for air, Malcom’s phone begins to ring. He slings his arm across me and answers. “Yeah, she’s sitting next to me.” He shoves the phone in my direction. Who would be calling me on Malcom’s phone?
I hesitantly say, “Hello.”
My mother’s voice comes through the line, “Addy, you need to get here honey. I’m sorry, but Stephen is here drunk, and he will not leave. I’m scared he’s going to wake the neighbors.”
I crawl out of Malcom’s bed and begin pulling my clothes back on. “Why didn’t you call my phone?”
“I tried.”
Stephen is sitting on the porch swing when I pull up. I can smell the alcohol on him before I reach him. “If you couldn’t take the boys this weekend, why are you here?”
“I needed…” he hiccups, “I needed to see you.” He begins to cry. He’s not normally a crier. I’ve maybe seen him cry a handful of times in the last fifteen years.
“Why are you here? Go back to Kitty.”
He slumps in the swing. “I don’t want her. I want you, Addy Bear.”
“The divorce is final.” And because he didn’t answer, I ask again, “Why are you here?”
“It’s you, it’s always been you. I miss you.”
“Well maybe you should have thought about that before you ran off with her and then knocked her up. I’m sorry, but I’m no longer in love with you.”
“I’m so stupid. I’m a fuck-up. I can fix this. I can.”
He is crazy. “There is nothing to fix. It’s over.”
“We can give the baby up for adoption.”
“Do you really think that’s what she wants? You’re not thinking clearly. Please leave. Do you want me to call you a taxi?”
“Can I stay here?”
“No, you can’t stay here.” He is delusional. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s had more than just alcohol. “I’m calling you a taxi.”
THIRTY-ONE
Stephen would not leave. It took me threatening to call the police for him to welcome the idea of a taxi. After the taxi arrived to pick him up, I had no clue where to send him. I sent him to the only motel in town. The one he loathes. Serves him right for being drunk and unruly.
I’m not sure how the boys slept through the ruckus last night, but they did, and they are still asleep. I’m at the kitchen table sipping on coffee and texting Malcom.
Me: I’m sorry about the abrupt ending to our night last night.
Malcom: It’s okay.
Me: No, it’s not. Not really.
Malcom: I would like to talk about the house stuff some more when you have the time.
Me: I’m meeting the realtor on Thursday after work. It’s a three-bedroom house at the end of a subdivision two streets away from my parents. It’s older and needs some work, but I think it’s going to be a good fit for the boys and me.
Malcom: I still plan to add on to my house. I have wanted to for a while. I would love for you and the boys to move in, eventually. I’d like for you to look over the plans I had drawn up.
I know eventually if things work out, we’ll likely move in together, but I’m going to buy a house on my own for now. I want to have it in the event that Malcom and I do not work out. You never know, and I do not want to depend on my parents. They aren’t going to be around forever.
Me: Okay. I will.
I have an incoming call from Stephen. Slightly annoyed I click the green icon. “Yes, Stephen.”
“How come you never call me Stevie anymore?”
“Is that really why you’re calling?”
“No, my car is at your parents’,
and I was wondering if you’d come and pick me up and take me to it, so I can go back home.”
“Is there really no one else in town you can get to give you ride?” I ask.
“No, there isn’t. I tried calling a taxi, but the line was busy.”
“Alright, I’ll come and get you. I need to talk to you about Sawyer anyway.”
It’s freezing outside, but I don’t even wait for my car to warm up before I head to get Stephen. His car was outside. That stupid sports car. It snowed overnight, so I don’t think he should really be driving around in that thing on the roads the way they are, but he’s the one who just had to have the stupid thing.
He’s standing outside when I pull up. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing the same button-down shirt he had on last night with no coat. A foggy cloud escapes his mouth as he exhales.
I press the unlock button, and he gets in the passenger seat. I don’t want to talk to him, but I know I need to. I pull out onto the road and say, “Sawyer has a girlfriend. She’s a nice girl. I don’t want them to get pregnant. Have you talked to the boys about sex?”
He blows on his hands and rubs them together. “No, I haven’t.”
“We need to. One of us or both of us.”
“How about we do that when we get to your parents’ before I go back home?”
“That’s fine. I think Amy’s smart. I hope she’s smart enough to know to use protection. I hope she’s on some type of birth control.” She probably isn’t. I don’t see her parents taking her to get her on birth control, and she’d have no way to go on her own. She walks to and from work at my parents’ store.
“If girls weren’t smart, guys would be lost, I promise. From fourteen to twenty-four, sometimes longer, guys need girls to be smart.”
“Where was this advice when we were younger?” I ask raising my eyebrow.
“I’m not answering that one. It’ll just make you mad.”
“Answer.”
He purses his lips. “You were supposed to be the smart one back then.”
The talk with the boys was incredibly awkward. I told them it was as much their responsibility as it was the girl’s to prevent pregnancy. They both looked at us like we had lost our minds. My parents never had a talk with me. They were old school, still are, and thought if you didn’t talk about it, it would never happen. Look where that got me. I wouldn’t give the boys up for anything, but I do wish I had been more prepared.
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