“Why were you talking to him, Becca?” He’s all teeth and anger.
“I was in the butcher shop buying filets. Al asked how ‘my husband’ was doing,” I start. “I didn’t know Will had walked in. He overheard Al and questioned whether you were my husband. I said you were. Then he saw I’m pregnant and made a stupid comment about how you must’ve knocked me up to get me to commit to you. Some stupid shit like that.”
“What did you say?” He now seems less angry with me, but still angry. Probably at Will.
“I told him he better shut his mouth about us, or you’ll finish what you started,” I say. Ray’s eyes widen. “And I told him that you are a very well-liked and respected member of the community. Everybody’s pal. Whereas no one can stand him, so the chance of cheeks turning the other way while you kick the crap out of him is high. Then Al shooed him out of the shop.” I laugh. Ray just stares at me—in disbelief, I think.
“I’m sorry, Becs,” he finally says, looking disappointed.
“For what, sweetie?” I furrow my brow. Cautionary Sybecca holds up her ticker board, which reads: You’re furrowing straight to a bottle of Botox! Stop it! I immediately relax my face and rub out the crease that may have formed ... casually, of course.
“Hi ... welcome back,” Ray teases me. Ugh! He can always tell when I follow a thought somewhere else!
“Good to be back,” I say to humor him.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I’m sorry I believed it was a possibility.”
“Huh?” Now I’m confused.
“Sleeping with Will. I know you better than that.”
“Oh.”
“It’s just ... well, if you didn’t remember having sex with me, why would you remember it with him? I thought he could’ve possibly been telling the truth.” He looks down.
“Yeah, I get that, Ray. But, even though I repressed those memories of us, I’ve always been completely comfortable with you. You could say anything off-color or over the line, and it never bothered me. If Will did, or got too touchy-feely, it totally freaked me out. I was never comfortable with him.” I pour cement on Will’s lie to make sure it stays buried and never resurfaces again.
“Baby, you don’t have to explain yourself. I shouldn’t have let that asshole get to me. Fucking prick! I hate that guy!”
“Well then, let’s not waste any more time on him. C’mon, let’s eat.” I pull him toward the table.
“Is it okay that I had them bring it up? I didn’t feel like socializing. I just wanted this time to be ours.” He sits across from me. I nod in agreement as I chew on a strip of bacon.
And thus begins our breakfast ritual. Ray puts sugar and cream in both of our coffees while I give him half of my omelet and take a piece of French toast from his plate. He scoops out my yogurt into a smaller bowl and sprinkles granola on top. I spread strawberry jam on his English muffin. We pass plates back and forth to each other. One sausage link for me, two for him. Three pieces of bacon for me, two for him. He takes the pancakes and places the pumpkin muffin on my plate. Anyone watching us would think we’d been married for fifty years. We’re a well-oiled breakfast machine. We know what the other will eat, and how much, without saying a word. He makes my coffee perfect every time ... every time.
“Baby, there is no way we are going to eat all of this!” Mr. “You gonna finish that?” looks overwhelmed.
“Well, we can only do what we can do!” I sigh and dig in. “Ray?”
“Yeah, babe?” He sips his coffee.
“Have you talked to Hazel recently?” I ask as I pick apart my bacon. I wish it were a tad bit crispier.
“I talked to her last week, but that’s about it. Why?” He shovels the last bite—which could easily pass as three bites—of omelet into his mouth.
“Smaller bites, Ray, you’re going to choke!” I sigh lightly. “Well, I haven’t talked to her since I got out of the hospital. I feel like she’s avoiding me. Actually, I know she’s avoiding me. I’ve left her several messages, and she hasn’t returned a single call. Yet she talks to Morgan every day!” If there’s anything that moves me from upset to pissed quickly, it’s stuff like this!
“Becs, I think she’s just giving us some space to get on the right track here,” he says.
“But, Ray, she’s my family. She will always be family. I hope she’s not feeling like I’ll push her aside. I would never.”
“Why don’t I give her a call for you today?”
“Can’t hurt. I just want to know what’s going on with her.”
“Baby, don’t cry. Everything will be fine.” He reaches to caress my cheek.
“It’s just so upsetting.” I try to shake it off.
“Well I’ll talk to her,” he reiterates. “Now, finish up so I can show you what you’ve been impatiently waiting for all week.” He thumbs a free-running tear away from my face.
“Ooh!” I get excited and refocus my efforts on breakfast.
“All done?” he asks as he grabs my plate.
“Mmm-hmm.” I nod as I chew the last bit of food. I get up and pile the remaining dishes on the tray. “Okay, c’mon!” I clap my hands and bounce with excitement.
“Wait. Do that again.” He smirks, his eyes making a beeline for my breasts.
“Shut up, McNeil!” I smack his arm and head over to get the long cylindrical tube.
“Hey, hey—give me that, lady!” He grabs it from me and swats my ass. He tosses the tube on the bed and moves the breakfast tray to the table.
“C’mon! C’mon!” I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. He hops onto the left side of the bed and I grip his arm as he starts to open it.
“Now, before I show these to you, I want to explain my thought process,” he says.
“Why don’t you show me and see if I can figure it out?” I smile over at him.
“Um ...” he thinks. “Okay. I hope you like it.” He exhales through pursed lips.
“I’m sure I will love it! Now let me see it, damn it!” I bounce and tap his hand.
“Kiss?” he asks, leaning in. I lay a big one on him.
“C’mon, now!” I say. He chuckles at me and pulls out several rolled-up sheets of paper.
“Close your eyes.” He holds them away and tosses the tube onto the floor.
“Christ, McNeil, you’re torturing me now!” I complain, but close my eyes just the same. I hear him unroll the papers. “Can I look?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he sighs. I don’t hear him doing anything or feel him moving around.
“Ray!” I snap impatiently.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Open your eyes, baby.”
I open them and gasp. “Ray!” I cover my mouth. “It’s ... it’s gorgeous—amazing!” I stare down at it. It’s going to take me hours to catch all the details. “Montreal,” I say.
“Yes ... Montreal.” He pushes my hair behind my ear before tracing my cheek with his finger. “The idea came to me after we talked about our trip. That was—is—my favorite time with you. It was just us, and we were so in love.”
“Is that what this weekend is about?” I turn to him.
“A redo? Yes. I love you, Becca.” He leans in and kisses me again.
“I love you so very, very much.” I collect his face in my palms and sweep his lips again. “Really, Ray, this is amazing.” I look back to the sketches.
It looks like an oversized French Canadian country home with tray ceilings and European ambiance. The area out front is cobblestoned like Old Montreal.
“Now, let’s look inside.” He reveals the next sheet. “Let me just explain my thoughts here. I did change some of your original ideas. Just wait for me to finish if you have any issues.” He glances over at me, waiting for my okay. I smile and nod. “Okay, so, the cobblestones continue inside, because I wanted it to be like walking down a street in Old Montreal. These storefronts in here will be real. A coffee shop. A bakery. A gift shop, et cetera, et cetera. There’s room for five small shops that you can rent out. T
his here,” he points to the back of the building behind the fountain, “is where the restaurant will be. You’ll be able to open to the public, not just guests. The elevators are here, and the rooms wrap around the whole place. There are spiral staircases at the building’s side corners, as well. The tray ceilings have huge beams going across to give them that Old World feel. A large wrought iron chandelier will hang down from the center beam, adding stronger lighting than the sconces and street lamps. There will be skylights for daytime light. What do you think so far?”
“It’s gorgeous. I love the curved wrought iron railing that goes around the second floor. I love that you can look down from upstairs to faux Old Montreal. I love the idea of little shops. That’s awesome! I love the cobblestone and the street lamps, the fountain ... wow. I don’t think there is one thing I don’t like.” I’m in awe.
“Really?” he asks, sounding unsure.
“Really, babe.”
“Okay, well, let me show you the rooms.” He picks up the next paper. There are eight doubles, four kings, and four king deluxe suites. “A lot of the detail will be in the tile and fixtures that we’ll select.”
“So now, how big is the place?”
“Oh, ten thousand square feet.” He shows me the page with the main interior design. “Your office is right here.” He points.
“The infamous office.” I laugh, showing my teeth. “But now, where will my scrappers scrap?”
“Oh. Well, that’s one of the things I’ve changed. I thought you could keep the scrappers in the original inn and convert the dining room permanently into the crop room. That way, you can leave the lounge alone. All of your guests will come over here for their meals. You can use one of these little stores, too, as an additional scrapbooking store for the regular guests. I thought maybe Talia would want to rent space from you and have a second coffee shop.”
I just sit and listen to him. He’s so passionate, so completely in his element.
“I’m so proud of you.” I run my hand through the hair above his left ear, then tug playfully on his ear and lean in to kiss his cheek.
“Thanks, baby.” He turns for a proper kiss. “Is there anything you want to change? Do you have any questions?”
“No. Well, the only thing I can think of right now is the information desk. I’m guessing people will check in at the original inn. Once they are over here, though, they should be able to talk to a staff person about their needs, and ask questions about local stuff. I don’t think they should have to go to the main inn or up to their room to call. What do you think?” I look at the sketch to see where that could possibly go.
“We could use this spot over here and create a reception desk. Anything else, Becs?”
“Laundry and cleaning supplies?”
“Basement. Anything else in the main area? Did I forget anything?”
“No, Ray. Honestly, it’s amazing. So, what are we looking at price-wise?”
“Good news or bad news?” He winces.
“Ugh ... just tell me.”
“Well, we’re looking at five to six million, seven at the max. Good news is it’s three million under your cap. The other good news is you’ll be pulling about two million in a year after renovations.” I act as if I’m going to pass out. “Well, you could go with Greerson,” he teases.
“Oh, sure!” I laugh.
“I still have to talk to Charlie about the stables, like I said, but I projected an approximate cost and added that in.”
“Oh, okay. That’s good.” I pretend to wipe the sweat from my brow. “Really, Ray ... this is great. Montreal was a very special time for us, and this is such a beautiful reminder. Thank you, baby.” I lean in for another kiss. “I don’t know why you were so worried. You know me, sweetie. You had to know I would fall in love with this.” I rub my nose against his.
“I did, but I didn’t want to get cocky either, just in case.” He pulls all the sketches together and rerolls them. After placing them back in the tube, he tosses it on the floor and scoots into bed, resting his head on the pillow. I lean my head on his chest and let our synchronized breathing hypnotize me.
“What are the plans for today?” I finally ask.
“Well, I didn’t think it would be fair to take you to the wineries, so that’s off the list. I thought we could just relax today, maybe do a little shopping before we go out to dinner. We have early reservations, so we can’t be out too long.” His fingers trail up and down my arm.
“Where are we going for dinner?”
“Oh, a little place called The French Laundry.”
“Ray!” My head shoots back up. “How did you get us in there on short notice? They book up months in advance!”
“Hey, what can I tell you?” He shrugs. “I know people who know people who know people, babe.” He smirks playfully.
“You dropped Grayson’s name!” I gasp in shock.
“Nooo. Derek knows the owner and he dropped Grayson’s name. See. People who know people who know people.” He smiles and sweeps my lips with his. I roll my eyes and giggle a bit before I rest my head back down. I inhale deeply the scent of one very fine Ray McNeil.
“Becs ... baby, I need to tell you something. Please try not to get mad at me.”
“What is it?” I lift my head again.
“Um, I asked Hazel to give us some space.”
“Why would you do that, Ray?” I sit up.
“Because.”
“Because why?” Because? What the hell kind of answer is “because”?
“I just ... sometimes I feel that a lot of your guilt stems from Hazel being around. She reminds you of Grayson, and it doesn’t help anyone. Then I think you’re worried she’ll feel like you forgot her, which you just confirmed over breakfast. This helps you push me away.” He sits up too. I stare at my hands, playing with my ring as I contemplate his concerns.
“Ray.” I look up. “I understand. I have to tell you, though, that this does upset me. Hazel has been my mom and my best friend since Grayson introduced us. She’s a blessing in my life. She dropped everything to be with Morgan and me after Grayson died. With the exception of her sister, we’re her only family. What you did is hurtful, Ray. Not just to me, but to her. We’re a package deal, babe.” I’m amazed, actually, at how calm I am. I think he is, too.
“I didn’t intend to hurt either of you. I just wanted to do everything I could to make this stick. I’m done chasing you.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“I know you’ll have your guard up for a while.” I get off the bed and head to my bag.
“What are you doing?”
“I started this when I woke up. I recorded everything that happened while I was the coma, and every day since. I am determined to never forget again. Here.” I hand him my journal. He takes it hesitantly and begins to flip through it.
“You’ve written a lot.” He glances up.
“Every page will be filled with our story. If there is ever, ever a time I forget, hand this to me. Make me read it.” I sit next to him and watch as he scans the pages.
“Jesus, that was fucking hot,” he says under his breath, reading a section I’m sure contains sex. I can’t help my laughter. “You could get pissed off at me and rip my pages out, or toss the book entirely.” He flips to another page.
“I type it up every night and save it on a flash drive.” I kiss his shoulder. He looks at the beginning.
“I thought you said you wrote about the whole coma.” He points to the date.
I show him the inside cover of the book. “This is book six. The others are back at home.”
“Can I read them?”
“Well ... it has a lot about Grayson and me.”
“I know. I want to read it.”
“Um, okay.” I feel a bit unsure. “Hey.” I turn his chin, trying to pry his eyes away from the book. “Thanks for being honest with me about Hazel. Will you call her today?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.” He pecks my lips.
; “Just try to think of her as my mother, not Grayson’s. I’d love for you to consider her your mother-in-law.”
Ray looks at me thoughtfully. “I think I will. That is a nice way to look at it. You know I love Hazel. It’s nothing against her. I’ll call her today and apologize.”
“Thank you.” I hug him.
“Okay, can I get back to my soft porn over here?” He shakes the book.
“Yes. I’m going to take a shower.” I kiss his cheek and head off.
“Mmm ... you smell good, baby,” Ray breathes against my left ear as he buckles me into my seat. The weight of his lips presses on mine before I feel a slight breeze and hear him close the door. I part my lips and take in a slow, steady breath. My heart is still racing, my face flushed from the acrobatics we performed over the past hour. Apparently, my journal ignites a fire in him that takes some effort to extinguish. “Becs.” His hand covers my left knee and slides up my thigh. “You okay?” I open my eyes to look over at him. I didn’t even realize he got into the car.
“Yeah.” I smile softly and nod for emphasis. A slow, sexy smirk crosses his lips, accompanied by his signature air kiss and wink. He throws on his aviators, starts up the car, shifts into drive, and coasts us slowly out of the parking lot.
“When do you want to go back East?” he asks as he hits play on the iPod. “Blue Jeans” by Lana Del Rey comes on. Christ, this song makes me hot for him. Country Sybecca is walking funny. She holds her crotch and shakes her head. One of her pigtails has come undone. Porn Sybecca hands her an ice pack to soothe her lady parts. Lucky bitch! I wish I had an ice pack to soothe my lady parts! “Baby?” Ray grabs my hand and shakes it.
“Sorry, sweetie.” I lace my fingers with his. “Maybe Wednesday or so. I really want you to meet Susanna and Sam. I’d like to spend some time with them.” I sigh and feel guilt blanket me. I haven’t been very fair to them, staying away this long. They’ve been like family to us, and I haven’t done my part in making them feel that way lately. “I have to reschedule my ultrasound to the following week,” I add.
“Well, I’m in no rush to get back to our life at home.”
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 21