by Crowe, Liz
“Not sure.” She heard the busy noises of his brew pub in the background. “Listen, I fired Stacy.”
Lila groaned. “Rob, not another manger? What is it with you?”
“I’m picky, sorry. I need your help. Can you?”
“What can I possibly do?” but she felt marginally better at the thought of working alongside Rob—the way Blake used to do—maybe that would help. “I mean, sure.” She gulped, sick at heart when she realized this was the longest conversation they had sustained in months.
“Call the sitter. Please, Lila. I need you.” And he hung up.
She set the phone down, her hands shaking, then picked it up and dialed the babysitter’s number. The girl was there in twenty minutes, and Lila pulled into a parking space in the underground lot near The Local fifteen minutes later. She fussed with her hair, straightened the casual dress she’d thrown on and walked the block over to Rob’s pub. She sucked in a breath and pushed the door open, odors of brewing beer nearly making her run back out the door. How did Rob stand it every day? This place was so…Blake.
She squared her shoulders and powered through it, found him in the doorway between the brewery and the pub space, yelling his head off into the kitchen. She put a hand on his arm, and he whirled around, his face an alarming shade of red. His angry look faded, and he held her close. “Thank you,” he whispered, then put her in charge of the bar, which was seriously in the weeds thanks to the giant art fair going on downtown.
Six hours later, the toothache-like pain in her lower back was almost more than she could bear. Rob came up behind her, put his large hands on her and rubbed the ache away. She smiled, let herself relax, and watched as the bartenders handled the remaining crowd. “You should hire that guy,” she nodded towards the tall red-headed young man who moved with ease around behind the bar. “He could handle it.”
“Actually,” he leaned into her ear, making her skin pebble. “I was going hire someone else. Someone much better looking and more capable.”
“Really?” She looked around at him, loving him so much her throat ached with it. “Who?”
“You.” He kissed the tip of her nose then headed back into the kitchen, leaving her standing open mouthed and staring at his broad retreating back.
By the time she got home, she hurt from her hair to her toenails. She’d not worked in a restaurant for years and certainly never one as busy as The Local. Rob said he’d be along behind her, giving her a promising squeeze and a bit more than just a light kiss. She fairly danced her way back to her car, thinking they must be past the worst of it. She paid the sitter, cuddled her son, holding him while he drank a cup of milk before he fell back asleep. Then got under the pounding hot shower propping herself up on the tile as it beat the tired out of her muscles.
She toweled off, thinking Rob must be home by then, but the house was still quiet and empty. Pushing the worry away, she sat, sipped some wine, staring out the window at the dark, Blake-less world. No. Stop. You made a breakthrough today. Let him go a little. Love the one you have left.
She must have slept, because the next thing she remembered was the door opening and the sounds of stumbling and cursing. She sat, flipped on the light and watched the red headed bar tender leading Rob inside. The guy looked over at her. “Sorry, Lila, I wasn’t about to let him drive.”
She glanced at the clock, noting the numbers two fifteen flashing. Rob staggered to the kitchen. She ran in at the sound of shattering glass. He stood, fury on his handsome face, staring at the mess at his feet. “Rob,” she started towards him. “Let me clean this up. Go sit.”
He stomped past her without a word. She heard the men talking, then the door opening and closing then nothing. She swept up, used a vacuum to get the rest, wiped the floor down with a wet rag. Busy work, she knew, but she couldn’t face him right now or she would scream.
By the time she got back out to the living room he sat, surprisingly awake, staring out the window. His eyes shone. But he would not cry, and she knew it. “How do we do this?” His voice was soft but steady. He looked at her and her heart broke all over again.
“Maybe we don’t.” She said, sliding into a chair across from him. She ached with need to feel him, to kiss him to have him with her, all over her, inside her. They had not made love in so long, between his illness, the baby’s birth and Blake’s death all coming on the heels of the other, like the fucking horses of the apocalypse. He’d been an invalid for weeks after the transplant surgery. She shut her eyes against the utter horror of that memory. But all told, it had been almost an entire year since he’d kissed her, held her, made her feel like a real woman. She was starting to think he was getting some elsewhere, perhaps from another man.
He shot her a bleary stare. She met it. “Are you cheating on me?” He scowled at her, scoffed, and looked away. A spike of fury shot through her. “God damn you,” she stood in front of him. “Tell me now, Rob Freitag. Because you are not the kind of man to go without…without….oh never mind. Fuck it. Do whatever you want. I’m sure there are plenty of options for you, all shapes and sizes, lots of people willing to soothe your grief.” The words spilled from her, out of control.
Rob gripped his thighs. The look on his face was of abject dismay. She let a flicker of hope light her chest. If he would just let her in, a little, give her something. But they’d even taken to sleeping in different bedrooms. Him claiming that his insomnia was no good for her. They were no more than polite roommates. And she had no stomach for it anymore. “Maybe there are, but….”
“Good for you.” She interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. Moving fast, without a word, he rose, grabbed her and kissed her, making her head spin with the familiar force of his passion. She gasped when he picked her up and carried her to their old bedroom. He hesitated a second, staring at the bed where they had slept, the three of them. She pressed her face into his neck. “I love you.” She whispered.
He set her down, still staring at the bed like a zombie. She stood in front of him, went up in her tiptoes and kissed him. “Go on, I know you can’t be in here.” What was left of her heart fell in little pieces to the floor then, sounding an awful lot like the glass on the kitchen floor earlier. He jerked her to him, slanted his lips over hers and pressed her back onto the bed, peeling her robe and his jeans and tee shirt off until they were pressed together, skin to skin. They kept whispering to each other, but the pure erotic pulse of their mutual need drowned out any words. He parted her legs, slipped between them and stopped, staring down at her. She put a shaking hand to his face. His heat hovered so close but he hesitated. She shifted, wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned and entered her, spreading her with his firm familiar strokes.
“God,” he groaned into her neck, thrusting hard. “Sorry, Lila, I…Oh hell.”
She held on tight, arms and legs wrapped around him, tightening her muscles, knowing the affect that would have. “Come, Rob. Please.”
He flipped them over, making her squeal, dug his fingers into her hips and stared up at her. “No,” he growled. “You first.” He pulled her down so he could suck her nipples, letting her set the pace. She rolled against him, her breath getting faster at the contact, the feel of his lips on her, of his cock sunk deep inside her. She looked down at him at the last minute, kissed him and let the orgasm take her, tumble her around and toss her under just like it used to. Tears leaked from her eyes. She was so lucky to have him. They were lucky to have each other.
“Ready?” he grunted, shoving up into her. “I need to….” He closed his eyes. She gripped him, rolled her hips. “God!” He grabbed her thighs and opened his eyes at the last minute, a tear slipping out of one eye. She dropped down over his torso. They held each other, tears mingling until the baby woke them at six with his usual needy cry for food.
Rob sat up, rubbed his face. “Jesus.” Lila rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head.
“Your turn, Dad.” She heard him get up, find clothes, and stumble out to the
hall.
In what felt like fifteen minutes but turned out to be two hours, he came back in, Gabe gripping his neck, and yelling “Ma!” until she woke and smiled at them. But Rob’s face was tired, unhappy. She got up and dressed and took the boy, leaning in for a kiss, but he moved away, muttering about “hangover” and “nap.”
Knowing he had not planned to be at the pub that day, she played with Gabe and let Rob sleep, loving the little boy’s enthusiasm for everything from Legos, to dump trucks, to books. But something nibbled at the edges of her consciousness. Rob was still not here, not with her. They’d finally reconnected physically, but that was it, and she knew it.
She ran a hand down their son’s salt blond hair. He looked so much like Rob, but had more of Blake’s personality, eager, creative, temperamental, easily distracted. Dear God what she would not give to have him here with her right now. She looked up at a noise, saw Rob in the doorway, dressed in a Local T-shirt and jeans.
She smiled, held out a hand. “C’mon down here Rob. Play with us.”
“Da!” Gabriel shouted, pulled himself to his feet at Lila’s shoulders and tried to reach towards Rob. He smiled, knelt down, and held out a hand.
Lila bit her lip and watched their son take his first step, one towards his beloved Da, no big surprise. Rob held Gabe close, kissed him then handed him back to Lila. “I need to go in to work.”
She rose. “Did last night mean nothing to you, Rob?”
He looked away. “It did. But…I need to go.”
“Fine.” She grabbed the boy and carried him to his room. His yells for “Da” echoed in her ears nearly as loudly as the slamming of the front door.
When he got home, she had her clothes and few belongings packed, with a diaper bag and toys for Gabe. Sara had told her to come over, they would talk and figure out what to do from there. Maddie had spent the weekend with Katie anyway. So her and Gabe going there would be no big deal. She gulped at the concept of that—of her, alone again but for her children.
He gripped her arm, his stubbled face a mask of anger. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I’m not living like this Rob. You don’t love me enough to even try to get over him. We could do this together. But you won’t or you can’t. Either way, I’m done.”
“But,” he held out his arms and Gabe went straight to into them. She bit her lip. “You can’t,” his voice broke as he pressed his nose into the little boy’s neck.
She steeled herself. This was not what she wanted at all, but she had to do it. “You have to decide what it is you want. I know what I want, but you aren’t even willing to meet me halfway. You are barely even here anymore. I am not living in this house with two fucking ghosts. I’ll be at Sara’s then find a place after that. We’ll work something out about Gabe.”
“Da!” the boy yelped when she plucked him from Rob’s arms. Gabe struggled, pushed away from her, and arched his back preparing for one of his epic tantrums. Rob put a hand on him, and he quieted, stuck his thumb in his mouth and glared at her, his brown eyes brimming with tears. She looked up at Rob, the man she loved but could no longer reach. His shoulders slumped, his eyes darkened. But he didn’t protest. So she turned and left.
Chapter Twelve
Sara handed Lila another tissue, but her own eyes stayed dry. Observing the slow dissolution of her brother’s remaining family hurt, but pretty much everything hurt these days.
It was just, as they say, one more thing.
She patted the woman’s shaking shoulders, listened to her rant about Rob. But she hardly heard anything. The bubble wrap that seemed to encase her had not loosened as she hoped and prayed it would. And after a year, the wall between her and Jack approached Chinese construction standards. She watched, numb, while Katie and Maddie rolled around on the floor with their little brothers.
“Sara,” Lila said.
She turned her head slowly, noted she was late for work . “Yeah, sorry.” She tried a smile, but the other woman’s face remained frowning.
“Are you okay?” Lila’s black hair was shorter these days, and framed her heart-shaped face. Sara tried to focus on anything beyond that. Katie yelled when one of the little boys bopped her on the head with a plastic toy. The dog barked, wanting food. Her head pounded, throat ached with unshed tears. People needed her. She rose, pressed her skirt down.
“Yes, no, who knows. But I am late for work. Will you be all right here with all this chaos?” She pointed to the kids on the floor. “The nanny will be here at noon. Jack was supposed to be home already.” she looked up, confused when she heard the door open, and the clink of keys, watch and fountain pen being deposited in their appointed spaces on the table by the front door. “He flew in on the red eye from the west coast last night,” Sara sat back down, suddenly exhausted and needing her husband’s arms around her more than her next meal.
Jack strolled in, still dressed in dark suit pants and a thoroughly travel-wrinkled white shirt. Her heart did its usual roll at the sight of him. But he didn’t look at her. More than once she’d demanded time to talk, requested his undivided attention for some serious conversation about his distance. He kept coming up with excuses to avoid her and given how chaotic their lives were with two kids, a dog and busy careers, excuses were easy to come by. So she had held back the one thing she knew he required, telling him flat out that she would not be sleeping with him until they cleared the air with a long talk. As a result, they had not had sex, or actually exchanged words beyond the necessary logistics of work and children for seven months.
Jack smiled down at Katie who’d latched onto him, kissed her and was staring down at the two little boys. Brandis was standing up holding onto the couch, a recent trick and one Sara had dreaded since it meant mobility for a kid who was never still anyway. He made his slow way to the edge of the leather ottoman glaring at Gabriel whose bright blond hair was back lit from the sun coming through the large window. They were in a mortal battle over a single dump truck and warfare was escalating fast. Brandis had already pushed Gabe down on his butt once, but the other boy quickly recovered. In a funny toddler attempt at diversion, he’d handed Brandis a matchbox car giving Gabe enough time to grab the obnoxiously orange truck and drop to his knees to make a swift crawling getaway. Since Brandis seemed stuck hanging onto the furniture, he wailed and threw the car, hitting his sister in the temple, then dropped to all fours and chased Gabe to the kitchen. Katie followed them. “Mom!” She yelled. “They’re feeding the dog Cheerios. That okay?”
When he heard Jack’s voice, the boy made a crawling beeline from the kitchen towards his father, and Gabe followed. He was already pretty steady on his feet, and kept the cheap plastic toy gripped to his chest as if it were the Hope diamond. The dog brought up the rear, lapping up the little round circles of processed sugar dropped in their wake.
“Hey sport,” Jack plucked his son from the floor, kissed him then did a double take when he saw the other boy. “Well hello there. Little Rob. Wow.”
Sara watched the scene unfold, silent. Since Brandis had such a raging temper he was usually screaming about something or throwing things or in his crib for a time out, which meant Jack could ignore him, leaving the discipline to her. Gabe stared up at Jack, thumb in his mouth, the truck still clutched tight.
“Pa!” Brandis glared at his father. “Mine.” He pointed down at Gabe. Brandis had developed clear speech patterns early and was on the verge of walking at a year as well. The kid was an eerie mirror image of the man holding him, Sara observed for the thousandth time. Jack bent down and put Brandis on the floor. The boy lunged for the truck but his father held him back.
“No. Share,” he said, reaching over and snagging one of the toys scattered around the room. “Yours.” He pressed an identical cheap blue dump truck to Brandis’ small chest. The boy’s face lit up with joy and he dropped to all fours and rolled the thing back to the kitchen with Gabe tottering along behind, so they could resume kitchen demolition by cerea
l. The eager dog scampered after them.
“Lila,” Jack gave her a hug, kissed her hair. “Welcome. To what do we owe the honor?”
Sara flinched when he walked by her without a word or a touch before dropping into his large leather chair. Boy, you have really dug yourself a hole this time haven’t you? Just the sight of him makes you want to drag him to the bedroom and jump him, if for no other reason than to maintain some kind of connection. But she steeled herself. While he claimed she was “projecting” she knew he was full of shit. She was right. She loved him but she would not put up with being ignored.
“Lila, Maddie and Gabe need a place to stay,” she said, flatly, staring at him. Rob was his friend. Let him do the math.
He raised an eyebrow and shot her look full of…nothing. She stood. “I’m late for a meeting. I’ll have something sorted out for you by the end of the day,” She said as she hugged Lila, Maddie and Katie, then walked by her husband. He grabbed her hand, sending a spark of lust from their point of contact up her spine.
“We need to talk,” he said, looking up at her with their son’s deep blue eyes. The eyes that had seen her, pinned her, held her, left her and returned. For a split second she saw him—the man she married. Heard his words when they had stood apart from the wedding party, forehead-to-forehead, arms around each other’s waists and she had told him she was pregnant with Brandis. “I love you so much, it still scares me, Sara. But I can’t live without you, I won’t. I’ll do everything I know how to make you happy.”
She swallowed, resisted the knee-jerk urge to yank her hand out of his. But the simple touch was making her weepy and weak kneed. “Yes, we do. But I have to go.” She leaned down, pressed her lips to his cheek. He closed his eyes and she saw him shift in his chair. A spark so bright she was surprised Lila didn’t see and comment on it passed from her lips to his skin. But she stood, straightened her skirt. He didn’t let go of her hand. “Jack,” she said, loving the feel of his name on her lips not in anger for a change.