The Feeling of Forever

by Jamie Howard

  He shot me a look coated in suspicion. “Why?”

  “Just do it.” This time when I pressed against his shoulder, he rolled to the left, giving me his back. Like me, he was still sans clothing, just those lovely little boxer briefs clinging to his hips. I ran my fingers over his back, sliding them down his ribcage. I stopped when I hit the comforter, pausing only long enough to whip it off and continue my exploration down to his feet.

  “I just want you to know that I’m feeling mildly terrified right now.” He peeked down at me as I inspected the back of his calves. “What are you doing down there?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.” I crawled back up to the head of the bed, then sat and crossed my legs underneath me. “What kind of rock star doesn’t have any tattoos?”

  He flopped back onto the pillows with a chuckle. “The kind who’s afraid of needles?”

  “Really? Needles?”

  “Um, yeah. They’re sharp and hurt like hell.”

  “Aw.” I patted his cheek. “I didn’t realize you were such a big baby.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I don’t see you wearing any ink.”

  “Seems like more trouble than it’s worth with my job.” I shrugged. Covering a yawn, I stretched out next to Felix and settled into the crook of his arm.

  His fingers brushed the hair back from my forehead. “You looking forward to going home?”

  “Yeah.” I drew swirls on his chest, sweeping them over his side. “I really miss them. My sister especially.” I sucked in a deep breath, holding it until my chest hurt. “She’s got juvenile Huntington’s.”

  He tipped his chin so he could look at me. “Wait, that’s a thing?”

  I nodded. “Very rare, but yeah, it’s a thing.”

  His entire body tensed under my cheek, his hand freezing in the gentle up and down it’d been tracing on my arm. “Does that mean . . . are you . . . ?”

  “I’m fine.” I cupped his face, and he turned his lips into my hand, kissing me on my palm. “Elle got it from her father, and even though I consider David my dad in every possible way, biologically, I really lucked out.”

  Questions swam in Felix’s eyes, so many of them that he probably didn’t know where to start. I helped him out by giving him the whole story, bit by bit. “So, I don’t know who my sperm donor was. It was a one-night stand kinda thing. Mom didn’t even know his name and I’m pretty sure, whoever he is, he doesn’t even know I exist.” And as far as I was concerned, I was perfectly fine with that fact. “Now fast-forward a handful of years. My mom meets David. They fall in love, get married, yada yada. You get the picture.”

  “All right, I’m with you so far.”

  “Things were really great. Mom was so happy. She got pregnant, had another daughter. A few more years pass. Elle starts kindergarten, Mom’s back to work teaching, David’s running his own landscaping business—”

  He nudges me. “And what about you? What was little Juliet like?”

  “I was . . .” I think about it, really stop and try to remember. So much has happened since then, so many changes that completely turned our family dynamic upside-down. I barely have any memories of that girl, the way I was before my entire world was ripped apart. “I was quiet. I liked school and going to the library.”

  “Well, I’ve seen your own personal library so that I believe”—he tapped me on the tip of my nose—“but quiet? I dunno if I buy that.”

  I swatted his hand away. “Hush and let me finish my story.”

  “See what I—” I pressed a finger over his lips, trapping them beneath it.

  “Anyway, like I was saying. Things were good. We had a few good years there before everything went downhill. It started off small, the tiniest things. Elle was acting out at school, she was clumsier than other kids her age, she had trouble writing, and then she started having seizures.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to convince my brain not to replay the first time I ever experienced that. “Juvenile HD is so rare that it took forever to get an actual diagnosis. To actually find a doctor who knew what it was, knew what it looked like, and knew how to test for it.”

  The silence between us was heavy, sad. The joking mood from just a minute ago had completely evaporated. Felix held me a little tighter. “Then what happened?”

  “By then we were drowning in debt. Our health insurance was a joke. We got rid of one of our cars, sold the house. Mom had to quit her job to take care of Elle.” I sighed. “And because it’s a genetic disease, we all got tested.”

  “Your mom?”

  “No, David.”

  “Shit.”

  “Shit is right.”

  He swiped a hand through his hair. “Your poor mom.” His hand dropped and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I can’t even imagine.”

  “But then we caught a break.”

  “The acting gig?”

  “Yup.” And God, what a break it’d been. It was like finally getting a drop of water after being stranded in the desert for days. “Did you know my very first part was in a Campbell’s Soup commercial?”

  “That’s how you got your big break?” He laughed. “Do you even like soup?”

  “Not in the least, but that’s beside the point.” I ran a finger over my lips. “Actually that was the first time I met Ally, too. We were both auditioning for the part.” I shook the memory out of my head. “Things kind of snowballed from there. My parents were hesitant about it; I mean it was another strain—finding out ways to get me places. But the money started coming in, I ended up landing this pretty big part in a movie and . . . I’m sure you can fill in the pieces from there.”

  “Nah.” He shook his head, the pillowcase rustling beneath it. “Fill them in for me. I want to hear the rest.”

  I wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, trying to summarize the last decade or so of my life. “Let’s see, I got my GED. I ended up in more movies, a TV show. Ally and I kept crossing paths and I ended up hiring her as my assistant when she gave up on acting. You already know about my stalker issue.” I wracked my brain. “Oh, well, I ended up buying a new house for my family, we paid off the medical bills, got Elle to see some really good doctors. She’s got a full-time, live-in nurse right now, but she’s doing about as well as we can hope.” My smile slipped and it felt like a cold finger slithered down the length of my spine. “David just started showing symptoms about a year ago.” My voice dropped to a murmur. “It’s so damn hard watching the people you love have their bodies betray them. David was always so good with his hands, so good at what he did. And now . . .” I grit my teeth together. “It’s just tearing me up watching it happen.”

  I felt the lightest brush of Felix’s lips across my forehead. “I am in awe of you; I don’t know how you do it. You’ve got to be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” He tucked a strand of errant hair behind my ear. “I don’t know how you manage to get out of bed every day, let alone how you can do it with a smile.”

  My lips curved up like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was, because I made it that way. One slimy piece of crap wasn’t going to take away my joy. “There are a lot of things in our lives that we don’t have any control over, but being happy isn’t one of them. I choose to be happy. And as far as I’m concerned?” I waited until his eyes met mine, those icy blues that made my heart skip. “I’ve got plenty of things to smile about.”

  Chapter 16: Felix

  Gavin’s Jeep ate up the road beneath it like it was starving. The asphalt was nothing but a blur of black, the trees overhead a blend of reds and golds. I braced a hand against my door as Gavin took the windy road at a speed that was only advisable on the Autobahn.

  My stomach tried to climb into my throat. “Are you trying to kill us?”

  He shot me a hurt look. “Are you doubting my superior driving ability?”

  “If not me, at least think of the pies.” I glanced over my shoulder at the pile of white boxes tied with red string that were buckled in the backseat. We h
ad cherry, apple, pumpkin, banana cream, and, last but not least, boysenberry. There were few things Gavin loved more than pie, and I knew the thought of those crumbly crusts smashing up against the sides of the boxes might be the only way to remove some of the lead from his foot. “Broken crusts, all that sweet, sweet filling splattering—”

  The speedometer dipped. “Fine, but don’t complain to me when we’re late.”

  “I’m pretty sure the only reason we’re running behind to begin with is because someone spent over an hour in the bathroom.” I lifted one accusatory eyebrow at him. “Having a bad hair day, sweet cheeks?”

  “Actually, I was just having a little ‘me’ time in the shower.” He snickered.

  “Dude.” I pressed my fingers into my eyes. “TMI.”

  He pursed his lips and peeked at me out of the corner of his eye. “So me hinting at the fact I was spanking it in the shower is a no-no, but that time with the blonde when we—”

  I held up a hand. “We both agreed we were never talking about that again. Cone of silence.”

  “Whatever you say, man.” He was silent for a whole minute, the radio filling in the gaps. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake—”

  My phone started ringing, and I couldn’t have been happier for the interruption. That happiness only spiked when I saw Juliet’s face flashing across my screen. “Hey, Jules.”

  “Jules!” Gavin shouted, leaning closer. “We miss you!”

  Juliet’s laughter echoed over the airwaves. “Tell Gavin I miss him, too.”

  “She says she doesn’t miss you at all.”

  Gavin rolled his eyes. “I can hear her, dumbass.”

  I bit back a laugh. “So, what are you up to?”

  “I just wanted to call and wish you guys a happy Thanksgiving. Elle and I are baking some pies right now.”

  “Pies,” Gavin moaned. “What kind of pies?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll bring one with me tomorrow.” A beep sounded on her end, like an oven timer. “How do you guys feel about lemon meringue?”

  “I feel like if Felix hadn’t met you first, I’d be asking you to marry me right now,” Gavin said.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Ignore him. Gavin’s mildly obsessed with all things dessert-related.” I fiddled with my seatbelt. “What time are you planning to leave tomorrow morning?”

  “Not sure. I—oh, damn.” She grunted. “Sorry, burned my finger.” The sound of running water filled the line. “Tomorrow, I’m just gonna play it by ear. Whatever time I get up I’ll just get ready and leave.”

  “I can’t wait to see you.” This week and a half without her had sucked. Big time. And I knew it was only the prelude to what the next couple of months were going to look like. “It wasn’t nearly as much fun waking up on my own.”

  “It’s such a shame you had to get up all by yourself.”

  “Not to worry, I took the situation in hand.”

  “Hold up.” Gavin slapped a hand against the steering wheel. “If I can’t talk to you about how I tickled my pickle this morning, how is this okay?”

  “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” Her chuckle disappeared as she cleared her throat. “Before I let you go, I wanted to run something past you.”

  The Jeep bumped over the lip of Mrs. Mathis’s driveway, slowing to a stop behind the three other cars in front of it. “Shoot.”

  “So I was sitting with my mom last night and we started talking about things and well, one thing led to another, and . . . I got to thinking about what Ally said to me last week. About disappearing from the limelight for a little, dropping off the grid.”

  “Wow.” I ran a hand over my face. “So you’re seriously considering it?”

  Something scraped over the phone on her end, then a door closed. “Maybe?” She sighed. “Something Ally said keeps playing over and over again in my head—that I don’t really love my job, that it’s not worth risking my family over it.”

  I waved a hand at Gavin after he got my wheelchair out of the Jeep, sending him off into the house without me. “Is that the truth?”

  “Yes and no. I do love it, parts of it, but it was never the dream for me so I guess a part of me always feels like there’s something missing. Something more I could be doing.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. I settled back into the leather seat, a grin setting up camp on my lips. “Okay, I’ll bite. What was little Juliet’s dream?”

  “You’re going to laugh.” She chuckled. “It’s ridiculously cliché.”

  “Ballerina? Princess?”

  “Ass,” she muttered, the word completely smothered in humor. “I wanted to be a doctor. I was convinced that I would grow up and cure Huntington’s. That was the dream.”

  My gaze traced the twirling descent of a stray leaf while my mind conjured up that image—Juliet hidden away behind a microscope, wrapped up in a white lab coat. In a way, it completely fit. “So, is this you telling me you want to go to med school?”

  “No. God, no.” She was back to laughing. “Could you honestly imagine me walking up to a patient’s bedside? It’d be like Neil Patrick Harris coming to give you a consult. Paging Dr. Howser?”

  “Okay, so that’s off the table.” I scrubbed a hand over my freshly shaven jaw. “Still doesn’t mean you can’t accomplish your goal a different way, though.”

  “I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

  “Well, you don’t have an MD after your name, but you do have a lot of zeroes in your bank account.”

  “I could make a donation toward Huntington’s research?”

  “Think bigger.”

  Silence stretched between us, but I could tell the second the idea took hold by her sharply indrawn breath. “A charity. I could start my own charity. I could do fundraisers and benefits.” She paused. “Oh! A campaign to get the word out about the disease. And maybe I could partner with a hospital or organization to offer low-cost screenings or helps with medical bills or—”

  “Jules, those are all fantastic ideas.” I could hear the gears grinding in her brain even a whole state away. “You should do it.”

  “I’d need to work out the specifics, put my ideas down on paper, talk to my attorney, but . . . yeah. I think I wanna do it.” Another timer dinged on her end of the line. “All right, I’ve gotta get that. I’ve got potatoes to peel and about a billion things to think about now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.” The thought of it coaxed out a smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, babe.”

  Chapter 17: Juliet

  The sky was full of lavenders and pale pinks when my car quietly bumped into the driveway. I knew I’d probably have to camp out in my car for a while before any sane person was awake, but I hadn’t been able to sleep. All night I’d tossed and turned, my brain too busy spinning through my thoughts.

  Ever since I’d talked to Felix yesterday, my mind wouldn’t stop whirring. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, my skin buzzing with excitement and nerves and purpose. Everything about this felt right.

  I wanted to do this for Elle. For David. For me.

  I reached over and snagged my purse, pulling out the receipt from Dunkin’ Donuts I’d been scribbling on much earlier this morning and one of the handful of pens hanging out with it. Rereading what I wrote, I scratched out the first two options. Wrong.

  My pen tip hovered over the last one and without one ounce of hesitation, I drew a big, fat circle around it—For the Love of Elle. That’s what I was going to call it.

  Folding the receipt in half, I slipped it back in my purse and traded it for my phone. I checked my e-mail, but, unsurprisingly, my attorney hadn’t managed to e-mail me back in the last three hours. Larry probably wasn’t even up yet. Probably I wouldn’t hear back from him for at least another day or two.

  I stretched, my fingertips bumping against the ceiling and my mouth dropping open in a yawn. A movement on the porch caught my attention, and it took me a second to realiz
e someone was sitting there, watching me. The woman lifted a hand and waved.

  It looked like I wasn’t the only one up at the crack of dawn.

  Hooking my bag over my shoulder, I stepped out into the crisp morning air. The slight breeze worked its way beneath my jacket like I wasn’t even wearing it. My footsteps were so loud they were like gunshots, the only other noise the trilling cries of nearby birds and the slow, gentle creak of the rocking chair on the porch.

  When I stepped up onto the porch, the woman rose from the rocking chair and wrapped me in a hug. It surprised a quick laugh out of me and I squeezed her back. “You must be Ian and Ben’s mom,” I said over her shoulder. She was a good bit shorter than me, her thick, dark hair laced through with silver and pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Gail.” She took a step back, giving me a once-over. “And dear, I already know who you are.” She gestured to the empty chair next to her. “Sit, please. The boys are all still asleep.”

  I folded myself into the wicker rocking chair, tucking my feet up underneath me. “Thank you for having me this weekend.”

  She smiled at me over the rim of her mug, steam curling through the air. “Trust me, it’s my pleasure. It’s nice to have people in the house again. I miss the noise.”

  Now there was a problem I could sympathize with. “I remember those first few months living by myself. I used to leave the TV on all the time just so I could pretend there were other people around.”

  “Sometimes I’ll drive down to our local coffee shop just to sit, trapping strangers into conversation with me. They never even see it coming.” Her whole face lit up with her smile. “The grocery store is good for that too.”

  “I can’t even remember the last time I was in a grocery store.” I leaned back in my chair so the front edges of the rocker lifted off the ground.

  “Well, I know of a few close by in case you need to get your fix.” This time we were both laughing, the sounds of it brightening the air around us even more than sun rays. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go get breakfast started.”

  I left my bag in the living room, only hanging onto the promised pie. I stopped for a second to take in the sight in front of me. Ian and Bianca were curled up on an air mattress, their arms and legs weaving together like some Chinese puzzle box. On the couch was Felix, one arm thrown up over his head, a crocheted green afghan hovering above his hips. Rachel had scored another blow-up mattress that was sandwiched between the coffee table and the loveseat, which was currently occupied by a cramped Ben. The only person who looked even more uncomfortable than him was Gavin, who, somehow, got stuck sleeping in a recliner.