by L. B. Dunbar
“It was a romantic thought,” Lily says, surprising me, and my lips twist in a smile I don’t feel. I’m still reeling a little from the deviousness and the lack of information.
“Don’t be upset. Seems keeping things from one another runs in the family.” My head shoots up to meet my brother’s gaze. He’s watching me, and I know what he’s suggesting. I kept from him the knowledge of his money. It’s a long story.
“Well, speaking of sharing things, then,” I preface. “Lily and I have other news.” Lily’s head comes up while Midge’s swings in my direction. I notice she’s still holding Lily’s hand. “Lily and I would like you to be witnesses for us. We’re getting married.”
Something crosses Midge’s face, but Hank presses back from the chair he leans on. “Congratulations, man. That’s amazing.” Hank rounds the table and comes for me. A strapping bear hug embraces me, and Hank pounds on my back forcefully.
“When is the wedding?” Midge asks, still not moving from her chair.
“We’re going to the courthouse, like you did,” Lily says, her voice off, quiet and hesitant.
“But we’ll have a wedding after the baby,” I assure. Lily and I discussed this. Insurance purposes. Proper birth certificate. She knows it’s important to me that I do things right this time and take care of her, take care of the baby. She agrees a full wedding can come later.
“How did you ask her to marry you?” Midge inquires, which I find rather strange, personal, and none of her damn business.
“In the tub,” Lily says, her face pinking.
“How romantic,” Hank says dryly.
“Well, it might have been,” Midge suggests, and her face flushes as well. “Bathrooms can be.” I don’t want to know more details, but I notice Lily’s head lowers, her eyes stuck on Midge’s hand still holding hers. I catch Hank glancing back at his wife, and I decide this is one story they can keep from me.
“We’d love to be witnesses,” Midge offers, her smile tight until she looks at Lily. Something transpires between the two women, and Lily nods. Maybe this is some strange both-pregnant-voodoo, and I decide to ignore it.
“I’ll go check the meat.” I set my empty beer on the table and head for the back door. Suddenly, I need some air.
“I’ll go with you,” Hank says, following behind me into the yard. We’re barely outside before my brother lays into me. “What the fuck, man?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, spinning on my brother before I near the grill.
“Tell me this isn’t just Brut doing what Brut does, taking care of things. Tell me you asked her romantically. Tell me this is what your heart wants.”
“What the fuck?” I still face off to my younger brother who’s bigger than me, but I’m ready to take him out in the yard like we did as kids.
“Well?” Hank waits, crossing his thick arms.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I say, reaching for another beer inside the cooler set next to the grill. I filled the cooler to keep the steaks at a steady temperature and placed a six-pack under the ice. I pop the top and practically pour the beer down my throat.
“No, you don’t, but you owe that woman everything. You do realize she doesn’t need to marry your sorry ass.”
“What the fuck?” I say again, glaring at my brother.
“I know you like to take care of things. It’s in your nature to delegate and control, but that’s an independent woman in there, and I have no doubt she can raise a baby alone.”
“Do you think that’s what she wants?” I swallow at the thought. I don’t want her doing it alone. I want to be with her.
“No. I think, by some grace of God, she still loves you like she did all those years ago. She certainly looks at you the same way, like you walk on water. But something’s missing in this scenario, Brut. You’re doing the right thing, but are you doing it for the right reasons?”
“What in God’s name are you saying?” He’s talking in riddles, and it’s adding to my piss-poor mood.
“Do you love her?”
“Of course, I love her,” I stammer, my voice rising.
“Does she know that?”
“What the…?” I stop. Does she? Have I told her? She hasn’t said anything like that to me, but I feel it. I feel how she looks at me, like Hank said. She looks at me like she did when we were young. I hung the moon for her, but only because she looked at me like she wanted me to. She knows this.
“Brut, you can’t be this dense.” Hank runs fingers through his hair. “And this wedding thing. What’s the rush?”
“I want her as my wife.”
“Then do it properly.”
“I am,” I yell, downing the rest of my beer. “This is how you did it,” I remind him.
“Don’t compare yourself to Midge and me. Our situation was different. I’ve waited twenty years for love like Midge, and I didn’t want to wait any longer. She also had other things in place, like her sons. We couldn’t live together comfortably. Midge has already had a wedding, and she didn’t need the formality.”
“Lily doesn’t need it either.”
“Brut, man.” Hank stares at me, and I don’t get it. “Lily’s agreeing with you, but this is her first time.”
“Mine too,” I remind him again.
“Then do it right for you, too.”
I sigh, reaching for the back of my neck and cupping my hand around the nape. “I am. I want to marry her. I want her to be my wife.” I pause, roaming over my brother’s face. “I’ve waited a long time, just like you, Hank. I didn’t have the interim relationship like you.” The jab at Hank’s past with Kit Carrigan hits below the belt, but he needs to understand. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for a second chance with the one who got away. And now she’s sitting in my kitchen with my baby in her.”
“Then do it right, now that she’s willing to stay.”
I stare at my brother more confused than ever. Isn’t that what I’m doing? I asked her to stay, and she said yes. We’re getting married. We’re having a baby. What am I missing?
37
Love is a necessary ingredient
[Lily]
“Are you happy?” Midge asks me, her voice softening. She squeezed my fingers at Brut’s rushed announcement, and she hasn’t let go since.
“Of course,” I say, my other hand coming to my lower belly. It’s becoming instinctive to reach for lima bean even if I can’t hold her yet. I don’t even have as much of a bump as Midge to justify touching myself like this, but it brings me comfort. A reminder I’m doing the right thing.
I don’t want to be unrealistic. I’m old enough to recognize I’m not so young; I don’t need to panic that I’m having a baby. I can do this. I also accept that people marry for all kinds of reasons. I don’t need to be in love to get married, but I want to. I mean, I am in love with Brut, and I have no doubt Brut cares a great deal about me. He also seems genuinely excited about the baby. But love me? That hasn’t been determined yet.
From what Brut has told me, he takes care of things. His personal history proves it. I understand wanting the baby on his insurance. And I appreciate his desire to be on the birth certificate from the start, considering the issues he had with Chopper. Both of those things are a reminder of what Brut went through the first time, and I want to do it right for him this time.
Which is how I suddenly find myself engaged to the man of my dreams but feel a large gap in what’s happening. I could have everything with Brut—everything—but I’m missing the beyond he mentions. I want his heart.
“You don’t seem very happy,” Midge says, speaking like she might spook me.
“I just thought…I hoped…it would be for love, not insurance and names and Brut being responsible like he always has been.”
“Brut might be responsible, but marriage? That’s such a huge step. It’s pretty spontaneous of him.” Midge’s facial expression confirms her surprise.
“Which still isn’t love, though, and I shouldn’t
even be saying this to you as his sister-in-law.” I give Midge’s hand a squeeze to signal I need to let go.
“I’m about to be your sister-in-law, too, but I’m your friend first. You and Brut are being stupid.”
“I know, right?” I exhale with relief, hopeful she understands. “This whole arrangement is out of hand.” Getting married is a big deal. We don’t need to be joined in such a way. We both agree about the legal details. I’m not going anywhere, and I know Brut intends to stick. We don’t need to get married to prove anything. Except I’d like to marry him, if he loved me.
“No, what’s dumb is you are in love. With each other.”
“Did he say that he’s in love with me?” I don’t know why I ask as if I’m a love-sick teen. I hate that I sound desperate for reassurance.
“Hasn’t he? Don’t you feel it? He wants to marry you. He’s changing his house to give you a home. He wants to be there for you financially. For your business, your baby, your heart.” Midge’s voice rises with her enthusiasm. “Sorry, I’m excitable lately.”
“Why doesn’t he tell me how he feels, then?”
Midge stares at me a moment. “He hasn’t said he loves you?”
I shake my head, feeling the burn in my nose and prickle of my eyes. I’m so tired of the tears.
“I’m so sorry, Lily. I know he does. Men can be so…stupid.” She reaches out for me, but this time it’s for more than my hand. Midge hugs me, and I melt into her comfort. I do need her friendship. I want her as my sister. Maybe I’ll gain something else I’ve never had through Midge.
“What’s going on in here?” Hank chuckles as he stands inside the kitchen. Brut stands behind his brother with a plate full of steaks and grilled vegetables in his hand. I quickly swipe at the tears, keeping my back to Brut, and Midge speaks with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Girl stuff.”
The plate practically slams on the table, and I jump. Brut is before me instantly, pushing back my chair so he can squat in front of me.
“What is it?” he asks, softening his tone as his thumb wipes at the corner of my eyes, catching a traitorous tear before it falls.
“Nothing,” I lie, cupping his face. I’m on the verge of having it all in the palm of my hands. I’m happy. I am. Almost.
+ + +
“This isn’t a good time. I’m so busy,” I say as October shifts to early November, and we still aren’t married. I’ve been putting Brut off as best I can. He set a date, and then the insurance adjusters wanted to inspect the bakery. He picks another date, and Ester plays sick for me, so I have to work. The bakery relies on me. I need to be there for orders and deliveries, and with the holiday season in full swing, I’m too busy to take an afternoon off, head to the nearest courthouse, and sign some paper binding myself to Brut…when he doesn’t love me.
“Why do I feel like you’re brushing me off?” he snaps as we stand in the kitchen. The beautiful kitchen is finally finished with a black countertop, white subway tile backsplash, and a fountain faucet over the farmhouse sink. It’s everything I could have asked for in a kitchen.
“I’m not,” I lie.
“Don’t you want to get married?” Such a loaded question.
If I say yes, Brut will push, but he won’t understand why I shouldn’t. While I’ve wanted marriage my whole life, I’ve also wanted it to be for love. We’ve put the proverbial cart before the horse with a baby. Brut’s beyond excited for the baby, kissing my belly and helping pick out colors for a nursery. The house has three bedrooms. When Hank moved out, Brut took Hank’s room, so the nursery will be Brut’s original bedroom. He tells Lima Bean, her unofficial nickname, he loves her often because he’s convinced the baby is a girl, and when he does such sweet things, I’m lost in the possibilities of our future. A good man. A great father. But what about a loving husband?
If I say no, Brut will plead, and I can’t explain why I won’t. How do you say to a man I want you to love me? Tell me you love me, and I might feel better. You can’t say that to a guy because, as Midge said, men are dumb. Brut will say what I want to hear, and then I’ll wonder if he means it because I made him say it. Maybe he didn’t want to say it, and maybe he doesn’t feel it; maybe he’s just having fun, which is what I hear him say to Hank this morning on the phone. A new wave of insecurities drown me.
“We’re good,” Brut says to his brother on speakerphone while he’s in the bathroom trimming his scruff.
“Never figured you for someone who’d like playing house,” Hank replies.
“We’re not playing house. We’re having fun.”
The statement crushes me.
“Lily, we need to get married.” The demand in his tone doesn’t sit right.
“We don’t need to do anything, Brut. It should be that we want to get married.”
“Well, that’s the question I asked you. Don’t you want to get married?”
“I do. It’s just…” My voice fades as my eyes close. I’m under too much pressure. I want to feel like an equal, not an obligation.
“What?” he snaps, and the tone of his voice is the tipping point. Over the edge of the cliff, I go.
“I just think I got caught in the rush. I mean, Brut, honestly, I’ve loved you since I was nineteen, and I just always thought…hoped…dreamed…you’d come back to me someday. I knew all the reasons we didn’t work, and I still wanted you, and then Midge and Hank had to play matchmakers and set us up on that godforsaken vacation.”
“Godforsaken,” he murmurs, and I don’t know if he’s mocking me or stunned by the implication of a mistake.
“And everything seemed so perfect. One week. No past. No future. Everything and beyond, right? But you know what, Brut?” My voice rises as do my arms, flailing out as my irritation grows, and I find myself imploding. “The past is always there to haunt us, isn’t it? There comes Lauren. Even from her deathbed, she can’t let us be. And then the future. Boy, I bet you never thought beyond meant another baby. A baby!” I shriek. I’m on a roll. “I mean, how ironic.” Tears have joined my tirade, and I don’t even bother to wipe them away. I almost feel sorry for Brut as he’s seen too many from me lately, but I’m nearing the bottom of the ravine I’ve jumped into, and it’s going to hurt when I hit the hard surface.
“You’re so honorable and responsible; you just step right up with solutions for everything. And I admit, I got caught up in it all with you. I mean, look at this kitchen. It’s beautiful, and I want to feel like you did it for me—”
“I did,” he interjects, his voice low, his brows pinching. I hold up my hand. I have so much to say, and I need to get it out. I can almost feel the negative energy leaving me, and I didn’t realize how heavy the weight was until I start feeling lighter the more I let go.
“Would I even be here if it weren’t for Lima Bean?”
He remains silent, and I have my answer.
When Lauren died, everything shifted, and then Brut disappeared, just as he did when she destroyed us before. He wouldn’t have come to see me if Midge hadn’t told him I was sick. My shoulders fall with the thought. Brut’s continually put in a position to see me, but he hasn’t taken the initiative himself. The vacation. Lauren’s funeral. The pregnancy.
“This is my fault,” I say. “I fell for you just as I did when I was younger. I thought I meant more to you, and I let myself be swallowed up again.” A sob interrupts my words. “Brut, I want everything for you. Everything and beyond, but I want it for me, too.” I swipe at the snot coming from my nose. “Remember when we talked about what would be fun for you, Brut? At the beach house? Sexy Scrabble?” Brut stares at me as he’s been doing for the past few minutes. His expression remains hard, no emotion in his eyes, a twitch to his jaw.
“I don’t want to be your fun, Brut. I want to be your heart. I want to be the love of—”
I stop abruptly as Brut steps into my space, his hands cupping my cheeks.
“Don’t kiss me,” I whisper because I realize my proble
m with Brut. I’m attracted to him beyond normal. My body reacts to his like no other. One taste of his lips, and I’m going to give in. And I can’t.
“What the fuck?” he mutters toward my mouth just as the back door opens.
“Get a room, you two.” Chopper laughs from behind his dad, and Brut releases me, twisting before me. I’m grateful for his body-block as I spin for the sink, reaching for a paper towel to wipe at my face and blow my nose.
“Hey,” Brut says, to which Chopper quickly responds, “What’s going on?”
“I forgot I asked you to pick me up.”
Chopper ignores his father and addresses me. “Lily, what’s wrong?”
I turn to face him, knowing my face is red and splotching from the number of tears I’ve shed. My eyes still burn, and I struggle to will away more moisture.
“Just pregnancy stuff,” I mutter, waving a hand to dismiss the mess I am.
“Jesus, good thing I never plan to have kids.” For some reason, this statement sucker-punches me. He means nothing by it other than being a flippant twenty-two-year-old, but it hurts. I’m back to thinking of Brut and how he’s had two children, out of wedlock, both unplanned. No wonder he’s never written a bucket list. Suddenly, I’m so drained I just want to return to bed, but Because Cupcakes needs me, and right now, I need it.
An awkward moment passes.
“I need to get to work,” I say, brushing past Brut. He doesn’t follow me, and for once, I’m grateful, but the sadness continues. He never follows me.
+ + +
I stand on my feet too much, causing my ankles to swell and my feet to puff up to the point of pain. Ester is militant about making me rest, but today, I need to keep busy. I’m thankful I still have the apartment upstairs where I can lie down for a nap, but I refuse to use it until I can’t stand anymore. It’s seven o’clock, and I have one more batch of cupcakes—cranberry orange. Over the years, I’ve spent Thanksgiving in a variety of manners: friends, vacations, alone, baking. I looked forward to this year being the start of what I hoped would be a new tradition—spending time with family. My memories of family holidays have faded to nothing as I haven’t done something like that in a long time.