“Uh, yeah, thought ‘Lucy’ was back with a vengeance! Then I looked up and you were running toward me saying ‘Sorry.’ You plopped on my lap and kissed me. ‘Hungry?’ you asked, and I finally felt myself calm down. You pulled out our lunch just as Kyle came up and said, ‘Hey, Ray, that was a great pointer you gave the class this morning! Is this the Mrs.?’ But I didn’t get a chance to answer because Vivian then appeared and complimented me. I was talking for a few minutes and realized I hadn’t introduced you yet when Vivian introduced herself. I said, ‘Sorry, guys, this is my—’ and you cut me off and said, ‘—wife, Becca.’ It took me a moment to register what you said.”
Becca smirks, “I had to, fucking Vivian was batting her damn eyes at you and hanging on to your every word. It was nauseating.”
“Wow, still jealous, huh? It’s very rare that you get jealous. I find it extremely hot, baby.” I play with her bottom lip before I kiss her. “So you became Mrs. McNeil. I loved calling you that all week. I even picked up a diamond band for you to wear.”
“Uh, yeah, because Vivian was all ‘Where are your rings? If Ray were my husband, I’d make sure everyone knew I was his and he was mine.’” She imitates her with some exaggeration.
“Yes, I recall you staring daggers at her. Before you got up to strangle her, I told her we must’ve forgotten to put them back on that morning. That it’s usually not a question we’re a couple. Just for you ... but I didn’t say that.” I chuckle and receive a smack to my chest.
“I loved the night we took a bath together and we were holding our hands out, looking at the new additions to our ring fingers. We were so relaxed and content. Mmm ...”
I’m waiting for her to say more because something very significant happened at that moment. She doesn’t, though. She still doesn’t remember. I feel that same terrible pang in my heart.
“What is it?” she asks, touching my face.
“Do you remember anything else?” I already know the answer, but I have to probe anyway.
“No.” She leans up on her elbow. “What happened?”
“I, um ...” I exhale harshly through pursed lips. “I asked you to marry me. I said, ‘You play the role of Mrs. McNeil very well. I’d love for you to permanently play her for the rest of your life. Will you marry me, Becca?’ You turned to me and without the slightest hesitation, said yes, and threw your arms around me. I was so happy, I forgot that it ... the moment ... wouldn’t exist anymore once we got back. I was stupidly, stupidly happy! Becca, I don’t want to go over this memory anymore. It is one of my favorite times with you because it was just us. Alone, together, without other distractions. It was amazing to fall in love with you all over again. I wish we could’ve stayed there forever.” I get off the bed and get dressed. “I need to go for a walk. I’m sorry.”
I look over at her and see the remorse swallow her whole, even though I know she couldn’t help what happened. I can’t even bring myself to comfort her. It took a lot for me to come back from the pain she caused me. I’m not about to wrap my arms around her and tell her it’s all right because it wasn’t. It was—is—my pain, and I have the right to it. I won’t allow myself to feel selfish for thinking this way. I walk out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
BECCA
I’ve been lying on this bed crying for at least ten minutes now. One of the babies gives me a good wallop. Clearly they want me to cut it out. I sit up and get dressed. The bathroom light hums when I flick on the switch. I look a mess, tired and pale. My hair is wild and my eyes are puffy. I tie my hair back and rinse my face. I’m not going to discuss memories with Ray anymore. I can’t help my previous behavior. I know I’ve hurt him, but the only thing I can do is give him my all now.
Stacey told me to be patient with him. I’m going to, but I’m not going to allow our relationship to be built on a foundation of guilt and remorse. He’s going to have to work through his reservations on his own. I have my own, and right now, I also have dinner to work through.
“Hey, Stace, I haven’t seen you all day.” I smile, walking into the kitchen.
“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” she asks, looking up from her sudoku.
“Oh, same ole same ole.” I wave my hand to dismiss it. “Chicken and pasta okay?” I ask, pulling it out of the fridge.
“Yeah. Hey, what’s going on with you and Ray?”
“It’s been a roller-coaster day.” I grab some zucchini and summer squash and rinse them off. Stacey pulls out a chopping board for me. I cut them into thin to medium slivers, then throw them in a pan.
“Do you wish he didn’t come out here?”
“Part of me feels that way. Most of me is glad he’s here. I just ... I know what I’ve put him through is awful, but I didn’t know I was doing it. I’m beginning to feel very overwhelmed. I’m trying to work through my grief over Grayson and let go of some things, but now my focus has shifted to Ray and his insecurities. I’m not used to him acting like this. He’s always so strong and confident. That’s the Ray I need right now. If he stays here this week and continues to behave this way, I’m not going to get anything accomplished.” I smack the bottle of Greek dressing to get the last bit onto the vegetables. I throw the lid on the pan and place it on the simmer burner.
“Here, I’ll fill it.” She grabs the big pot from me and heads to the sink. “Bec, maybe you should just ask him to go home, then. You definitely don’t need the added stress! Your body has been through a lot these past few months. You need to worry about those babies first, not about licking Ray’s goddamn wounds.” She brings the pot over to the other burner.
“Can you get me the multicolored bow-tie pasta from the pantry?” I ask as I cut up the chicken. “Stace,” I add, “I can’t ask him to leave. If I did that, I may not have a Ray to go home to. I don’t want to lose him.”
“He is not going to leave you if you ask him to go home!” she states flippantly.
“I think you’re wrong. I think he’s had enough. The rehashing of memories is stirring up a lot of pain for him. Then there’s the money. He’s a proud man. It’s all too hard for him to swallow.” I throw the chicken in another pan and season it. “Did you know he asked me to marry him in Montreal?” I look over my shoulder at her.
“Yes,” she says simply as she places things in the sink. “I spent hours on the phone with him after his bubble burst when you two got home. He was really crushed.”
“I know. That’s probably why he’s not rushing to put a ring on my finger now.” I throw the pasta into the boiling water and give the veggies a quick stir.
“Becca, he wants to marry you.” She tries to reassure me.
“I don’t think he really wants to anymore. We’ll probably be rolling like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. I think I’m okay with that. Besides, I’m not really ready to give up Grayson’s name yet.” I look over to find Stacey, her eyes wide and panicked as she looks to the entrance of the kitchen. I take in a deep “oh God” breath and wait for the shitstorm that is about to take over.
My heart races as Ray slides his hands onto my hips.
“What are you making?” He kisses down my neck. Cue erratic breathing.
“Um, my chicken and pasta dish,” I say, carefully walking on mental eggshells.
“Mmm ... the one with the dressing and the cheeses?” His voice is low and soft. Honestly, I find its effect on me rather irritating. How is it that he can seduce me with a normal conversation over what’s for dinner?
“Yes.” I close my eyes and try to pull myself together.
“You haven’t made that in a long time. I’m gonna go upstairs and work. Call me when it’s ready.” He pats my left hip and kisses my neck again. He walks away. “By the way, baby,” he says and comes back over to me, his mouth to my ear. “You better get yourself ready to give up Grayson’s name, because it’s going to happen real soon.” His fingers gently grasp my chin, making me turn my face to his. I gasp as his mouth hits mine hard. He pulls away abruptly and swats
my ass before he walks away.
The chicken makes a popping sound in the pan, which brings my focus back to the task at hand. I stir it and look over at Stacey.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
“Max! I’m going to tell him to get his ass out here now!” she says adamantly.
“Why?”
“So he can get a goddamn refresher course on how to be hot as hell!”
I chuckle to myself as she walks out of the room with her phone. McNeil is pretty fucking hot!
I combine the pasta, chicken, and zucchini in one pan, folding it over as I add grated Parmesan and a blend of four shredded Italian cheeses. I keep mixing until the cheese is melted. A forkful tells me it needs some more dressing. I add. I taste. I add more Parmesan. I taste. Mmm ... perfect! I head over to the cabinet with my serving dishes. Great. The pasta bowl I can usually snatch from my tippy toes is no longer in reach, thanks to my swelling belly. I look around, then grab a chair from the table and slide it over. I take a deep breath and climb up.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ray yells and grabs ahold of me.
“Getting the pasta bowl—why?” I shoot him a strange look and pass the bowl down to him. He puts it on the counter and hooks his right arm around the small of my back, his left under my knees, and swoops me off the chair before I can yell, “Hey!”
“Don’t do that again! Ask for help, please. You’re almost five months pregnant. Use your fucking head, babe!” He sweeps my lips with his.
“McNeil, it’s a chair, not a damn tightrope.” I roll my eyes.
“And you tend to be clumsy.” He lets my feet hit the ground.
“Hmm,” is all I can offer as I pull away from him and pour the food into the bowl.
“I’m going to take mine upstairs, if you don’t mind. I may have an idea, and I want to jump on it.”
“Do you want bread?” I glance over as I grab a dish for him.
“No.” He studies me. “Becs?”
“Beer?”
“No, I need to think clearly. Baby?”
“What do you want to drink?” I go to the fridge.
“This is fine.” He reaches around me and grabs a flavored water. “Becs.” He turns me to him.
“Ray, I don’t want to discuss what happened earlier. Please.” I gaze up into the storm of Ray McNeil’s eyes.
“Okay,” he sighs after a few moments. He pushes back off the fridge and lets me go back to the food.
“Here.” I hand him his dish. “I’ll have Morgan bring your dessert up.”
“Do you want me to leave?” He crooks his head sideways to gain my attention back.
“No. I don’t.” I look over at him. “It’s pretty rude, McNeil, to listen to other people’s conversations,” I add as I pull three more dishes down.
“It’s pretty rude to talk behind someone’s back, babe.”
“I didn’t say anything I haven’t said to your face,” I snap.
“Really?” His eyes go wide. “Sure about that, baby? Oh, I’m sorry, I mean Mrs. James.”
“Don’t start.” I close my eyes and take in a deep breath.
“I’m not. I’m going to head upstairs now, Mrs. James.” He heads to the door. “Don’t wait up for me, Mrs. James.”
“Oh, I won’t!” I snap. Country Sybecca holds onto her lap bar and screams as the coaster goes downhill again.
Stacey and Morgan walk into the kitchen as I set dinner on the table.
“I wish Ray brought Annie,” Morgan complains.
“Do you want me to see if Grammy will fly out here with her?” Speaking of Hazel, she hasn’t returned any of my phone calls the past few days!
“No, she won’t, Mommy. She went with Charlie to meet his family,” Morgan says.
“You’ve talked to her?” I ask, feeling hurt and shocked.
“Yeah, every day. Why?”
I shrug and shoot Stacey a “what the hell?” look. She knows I’ve been trying to reach Hazel. Neither one of us have the slightest idea why she may be avoiding me.
It’s eleven o’clock in the evening. I stand at the bottom of the staircase, looking up. The light is still on. Morgan told me Ray was in a drawing frenzy, that he barely noticed her when she said good night. When he finally paid her any attention, he made sure he told her to say, “Sleep well, Mrs. James” for him. Asshole! I walk away and go to my room, locking the door behind me. Before I head to bed, I step into my glorious shower. Oh, how I’ve missed this shower! The water pelts my worries away.
I apply my lotion before putting on one of the nightgowns that Grayson loved best. I’m surprised the fabric is forgiving of my belly. I pull back the duvet and jump when I hear a knock at the door. I open it.
“You’re sleeping in here?” Ray asks, his jawline twitching.
“Well ... this is where Mrs. James sleeps,” I say, as condescendingly as possible.
“All right, then. Good night, Mrs. James!” His smile is not friendly. It’s more like his “sit and spin” smile. He turns and walks away.
I climb into bed and snuggle up to Grayson’s sweater. It’s been a long, stressful, crazy day. Tomorrow will be better. We both just need some sleep.
Nine a.m. feels like six a.m. I inhale deeply the smell of Grayson James and feel a terrible pang of guilt. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be breathing Ray’s smell. Luckily, my bladder overrules the guilt. The usual morning ritual ensues in the bathroom. Pee, brush teeth, wash face and tie hair. I get dressed and head out to greet the world. Hopefully, no tomatoes will be thrown at my head for the decrease in my maturity level last night.
Humph ... I seem to be the only one up. I check Morgan’s room. Not there. I check Stacey’s room. Not there. I take a grand tour around the house. Unable to locate anyone, I give in to technology and call Stacey to see where she is in the house.
“Hey,” she answers.
“Where are you?”
“Out to breakfast with Ray and Morgan—why?” she asks, as if I should already know this.
“When did you guys leave?”
“Half an hour ago.”
“Well, why didn’t anyone ask me if I wanted to go?” I ask, somewhat hurt.
“Ray said you weren’t coming. I thought he asked you.” She lowers her voice.
“No, It’s okay. I’m not feeling well anyway. I’ll see you when you guys get back. Please don’t say anything to him. I’ve had about enough of our behavior.” I listen for her “okay” and hang up with her.
I don’t remember Ray and I ever arguing this much. Then again, I was “Lucy.” But no, this was much simpler when we were just “friends,” at least for me. I head into the room we’re supposed to share. I take in a deep breath, observe the mess, and head back to the closet with all the cleaning supplies to grab the broom and dustpan. Apparently, the wall decided not to move out of the way of the vase Ray threw at it. I clean up the mess, including the clothes he dumped all over the place. I put everything away and take his shirts down to the laundry room to iron them.
I used to hate to iron, but now I find it relaxing. I get a lot of thinking done while I’m ironing. I hang up his last shirt, grab them all off the rack, and head to the room to hang them up. I notice Ray out of the corner of my eye, stopping dead in his tracks. I ignore him and hang the shirts in the closet. As I walk out, Ray blocks my path. I stand there, avoiding his eyes. I fear the silence is killing me, so I finally look up.
“I don’t remember arguing with you this much,” I say.
“That actually makes sense, because we didn’t.”
“I don’t want to argue with you anymore, Ray.”
“At some point we’re going to argue, Becca.”
“I know. I just ... I don’t want to argue this much.”
“You know what I don’t want, Becca?” He’s terse.
“What?”
“I don’t want to ever ... ever,” he yells in my face, “find you snuggling up to and sleeping with Grayson’s sweater while purpos
efully avoiding me!”
“I locked the door.”
Obviously, I manage to always say the right thing.
“Wow, Becs! Really? First of all, I design and build shit! You don’t think I’d know how to unlock a goddamn door? Like an idiot, I came in to apologize and bring you back to bed, and there you were! You might as well have been in another man’s arms,” he says, sighing and walking away.
I can’t help but giggle.
“A man, I think, would have quite a different effect than a sweater.”
“Really? So then it’s okay if I snuggle with one of Liz’s old shirts?”
“No. No, it’s not. You’re right, Ray. I realized what I did was wrong when I woke up this morning. It won’t happen again.” I reach for his hand.
“I felt like you wished he were here and not me. You told me you chose him over me in your subconscious. Lying in bed—with his sweater—was better than being with me?”
“Ray, I told you what happened during my coma. As soon as I started remembering us, you were the only one I could think about. Last night was just me being a smartass.” I grab his other hand.
“You kept calling out for him before you woke up. You were saying, ‘I love you, Grayson.’ Over and over.”
“I was saying goodbye. I never got to do that. You remember me saying that.” I take in a shaky breath. “Do you remember how happy and relieved I was to see you?”
“Yeah. I do.” He nods. “Becca, we’re both just getting hit with so many things at once. Most families that join together have a hard time situating the kids and housing. That’s the easy part for us. Why do we have to have all of this other crazy shit?” He pulls me to him. “We need to both slow down and figure all of this out. One step at a time. I think we’re both jumping feet first into everything, and I don’t want to lose us.”
He pecks at my lips and pulls away.
I wince. “Wow ... really? You can’t do better than that, McNeil?”
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 18