“Do you remember the day Drew and I met?” I asked. We were sitting next to each other on towels in the sand watching Abby play with her toy fishing rod in shallow water.
Wes laughed a little and glanced at me. “Yeah. I do.”
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. I just…” He draped his arms over his knees. Stared straight ahead. “I think about that day a lot, actually.”
“You do?” That surprised me. “Why?”
He was quiet a minute. “It was an important day, wasn’t it? Lives were changed forever.”
“But we didn’t know that then.”
Another pause. “I think I knew.”
I looked at him, but he kept his eyes on Abby. When he didn’t offer anything further—not that I knew what I wanted him to say, just something—I went on. “I was thinking about that day just now.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” I hugged my knees to my chest and wiggled my toes in the sand. “I couldn’t believe how different you two were.”
He smiled slightly.
“You were always such a gentleman, and he was so obnoxious. I couldn’t believe some of the things he said.”
“Yeah. But it worked for him.” Wes looked at me. “He got everything he wanted.”
“You think so?”
“I know it.”
Tears blurred my eyes, and my throat tightened. What the hell? I’d been having such a good day, and suddenly my emotions were all over the place. What came out of my mouth next shocked me. “Drew cheated on me.”
Wes froze. “What?”
“Once. When Abby was a baby and things were tough at home. She wasn’t a good eater or sleeper and things were difficult. I wasn’t paying attention to him.” The words gushed out like blood from a wound.
Wes opened and closed his mouth several times, then focused on Abby again, clearly at a loss for words. His hands had closed into fists.
“You don’t have to say anything.” A tear slipped from one eye, and I wiped it from my cheek. “He told me afterward. He felt so bad about it. He cried. I’d never seen him cry before. But I was so hurt and angry. Because he’d promised me, you know? He’d promised me.” I looked at Wes, watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I’ve never told this to anyone before. I don’t even know why I’m telling you now.”
Wes’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, but he still didn’t respond.
“I think it’s that…I forgave him, but I’m still angry about it. And there’s nowhere for that anger to go now. How can I be mad that he cheated on me in the face of what happened? What’s one transgression, for which he was truly, deeply sorry, compared to all the wonderful things he was? He didn’t deserve to die.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
I sniffed, wiping another tear from my cheek. “But what kind of person am I to hold on to anger like that? I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my therapist, because it felt so disloyal to speak ill of him.”
“Fuck, Hannah. You’re human. He hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“He shouldn’t have done that.” Wes’s voice was low and hard.
“No, but it was just one mistake. He was so much more than that. You know he was. But no one else does. They might…judge him.”
“Of course I know it. But he wasn’t perfect. And we don’t have to pretend that he was just because we loved him and he’s gone now.”
I took a few deep breaths, letting that sink in. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I guess it’s just one more thing that feels…I don’t know. Unresolved. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
A few minutes passed before he spoke again. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”
“You don’t need to apologize for him.”
“It’s not for him. It’s for me.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t resist leaning his way and tipping my head to his shoulder, the way I used to do with Drew. “I’m sorry I just unloaded that on you. It wasn’t fair.”
“It’s okay.” A moment later, he went on. “I’m here for you. I always will be.”
I wished he would put an arm around me, but he didn’t, and I decided I’d imagined his earlier touch. It couldn’t have been Wes. It was something Drew would have done—he was casually affectionate like that—so my mind, knowing how desperately I missed his touch, had played a trick on me.
Just another ghost.
I had trouble sleeping that night, dreading the sunrise that would officially make it the day before Abby started kindergarten. All I could think of was how Drew would miss it. Just like he’d missed her first day of preschool. Just like he’d missed her first wiggly tooth. Just like he’d miss every conference and concert and school play. Her Prom. Her graduation. Her wedding. It would be me alone through it all, watching her grow up until finally she left me, too. What would I do then? Who would I be? How would I survive when she no longer needed me?
I was bleary-eyed and silent the next morning at work. Georgia would have forced me to talk about it, which probably would have resulted in a meltdown right there in the kitchen, but thankfully, it was Pete working the Labor Day breakfast shift. If he noticed something was off with me, he didn’t mention it.
After work, I tried to combat the feeling of impending doom by taking Abby to the park, helping her pack up all her new school supplies in the pink and purple backpack she’d picked out, and letting her help me make Italian meatloaf for dinner. It was my mother’s recipe, and made me a little lonesome for her. I thought of calling her, but she’d ask me how I was doing, and I didn’t feel like I could answer that question without breaking down.
After dinner, Abby asked if we could walk into town for ice cream.
“Sure,” I said, not particularly eager to start the bedtime routine.
“Let’s call Uncle Wes.”
An alarm bell pinged in my head. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing Wes tonight. “Oh, honey, let’s not bother him.”
“But I told him we’d call him next time we got ice cream,” she wailed. “We have to.”
I thought about pretending to call him and saying he didn’t answer, but felt too guilty. This is not just about you.
He picked up quickly. “Hello?”
Maybe there would be a day when the familiar sound of his voice—so like Drew’s—didn’t throw me, but that day wasn’t today. “Hey, Wes. Abby and I are about to walk into town for some ice cream and wondered if you’d like to come along.” Say no. Say no. Say no.
“I’d love to. Give me ten minutes?”
“Of course.”
We hung up, and I told Abby to use the bathroom. While she did, I went upstairs into my bathroom and dug around in my makeup bag. Dabbed some concealer on the circles under my eyes. But it didn’t do enough to erase the anxiety or exhaustion from my face, so I added a little blush and mascara. Ran a brush through my hair. When I was putting my makeup bag back in the drawer, I noticed a bottle of perfume in there. I took it out and sprayed my throat.
But the scent, Drew’s favorite, was both a painful reminder of happier days and an accusation—why are you putting on perfume for another man?—and a few choked sobs wrenched free from my chest.
Stop it. Get yourself together. You have Abby to think about. And Wes is on his way over. Do you want either one of them to see you like this?
A few deep breaths later, I’d wrested control of myself back from my feelings. The damage to my face wasn’t too terrible, and I repaired the eye makeup best I could, figuring a pair of sunglasses would hide the worst of it.
Abby and I waited for Wes outside, and my heart beat erratically when he pulled up and got out of the car. It kept up its uneven rhythm as we walked into town, and I tried to tame it by keeping my eyes on the sidewalk.
“Everything okay, Hannah?” Wes asked when we were halfway there.
I nodded. If I opened my mouth to speak, I knew I’d cry.
It didn’t help that Abby insisted o
n being carried on his shoulders again, and he was all too happy to do it. I envied both of them their carefree smiles, the brightness of their faces, the excitement in their voices as they talked about what flavors they’d get. I wanted to feel that way, too. As we walked, I spun my ring around my finger.
When we got to the shop, I said I didn’t want anything, but Wes bought me a cup of pistachio anyway. “You need this,” he said as he handed it to me. “Ice cream makes everything better. It’s a medical fact.”
I managed a smile. “Thanks.”
I ate a few bites on the walk home, but couldn’t taste it.
“Mommy, can I play on the swings for a little bit?” Abby asked as we walked up the driveway. “Uncle Wes said he’d give me an underdog.”
“Five minutes, okay? We have to get you in the tub soon.”
“Okay.” She grabbed his hand and led him around the house into the yard.
I went inside, tossed my ice cream in the sink, and threw away the cup. Through the window, I watched as Wes pushed Abby on the swing, ducking beneath it as he ran forward and she squealed with delight.
My legs wobbled. It was all so perfect—the sunset and the ice cream and the swing and the first school night of the year and my daughter and this man, this beautiful, kind, smart, sweet, sexy, adoring man here making her laugh. Why couldn’t I feel it? Why wasn’t I a part of it?
Make me laugh too, I begged silently. Make me smile. Make me feel things again like you did yesterday. Take this pain away. Take this loneliness. Take this suffering. I’m so tired of being alone.
For a moment, I let myself fantasize—not that Wes was Drew, but that Wes was my husband and Abby’s father. That it was Wes who’d asked me out all those years ago. That it was Wes who’d swept me off my feet, married me, shared my bed every single night.
It was Wes whose hands would undress me later, whose mouth would roam over my bare skin, whose body would move over mine until we were shuddering and clinging and crying out in the dark together—
Together. Together. Together.
My heart began to pound. I could hardly stand still. My hands were trembling. When they came inside and Abby asked if Wes could read her a story after her bath, I hid them behind my back and nodded yes without thinking.
“I have a quick phone call to make,” he said, looking at me a little strangely. “I’ll be out on the porch. Give me a shout when you’re ready.”
Upstairs, I put Abby through the motions of her bedtime routine, unable to think about anything other than the fantasy I’d concocted at the kitchen window.
I knew it was wrong.
But I wanted it. I wanted it so badly.
When Abby had brushed her teeth and I’d combed out her hair, she put on her pajamas and got in bed. “Send Uncle Wes up, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll come in and say goodnight when he’s done.”
“Okay.”
Out on the porch, Wes was just ending his call. “Thanks so much, Brad. I’ll see you tomorrow at six. Yep. Bye.” He tucked his phone in his pocket.
“She’s ready for you.” I stared at his face and imagined my lips moving along the scruff on his jaw, my hands sliding into his hair.
“Thanks. Should I just go up?”
“Sure. Her room is on the left at the top of the stairs.”
“Okay. You alright?” Two lines appeared between his brows.
“Fine.”
He didn’t believe me, I could tell, but he went up the stairs, and I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. While it steeped, I sat at the table, my leg jittering nervously. Stop it. Just stop it. Sex with your brother-in-law is not a good cure for loneliness.
No matter how hot he was. Or how sweet to your daughter. Or how well he understood you.
Or how badly you suddenly wanted it.
Good God, was I losing my mind?
I sipped my tea and stared at my hands on the cup. Listened to the tick of the clock. Prayed he’d leave quickly once he came down.
About five minutes later, I heard his feet on the stairs. I bolted up from my chair, setting the cup down so hard, tea spilled onto the table. I left it.
We met on the landing, nearly bumping chests. He stepped aside. “She’s all yours.”
“Okay. Thanks for reading to her.” Say goodnight, Hannah. But I said nothing, just hurried up the steps to Abby’s room.
I sat on her bed and switched off her lamp. “How was the story?”
“Good.” She hugged her elephant.
“Want to ask me a question?”
“I already asked Uncle Wes a question.”
“What did you ask him?”
“If he could walk to school with us tomorrow.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he wasn’t sure he could. He’s going to see.”
“Okay.”
“Sing me a song. The one about the trembling trees.”
I sang to her, and she was asleep by the time I finished. I kissed her forehead and left her room, wondering if Wes was waiting for me downstairs or not. I hoped he wasn’t.
Liar.
I walked down the steps slowly, my hand on the bannister. When I reached the bottom, I glanced out the screen door. His car was still there, and he wasn’t in the living room. Taking a deep breath, I walked down the hall into the kitchen.
He was leaning back against the counter. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I twisted my ring.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed a little upset earlier.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine?” One brow cocked up. It was fucking sexy and adorable. “I’m on to you, pal.”
“I don’t know what to say. I guess I’m just…not feeling like myself tonight.”
“What are you feeling?” he asked quietly.
“Like I wish things were different right now.” I shrugged helplessly, giving in to it. “For us. Do you ever wish that things were different?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “All the fucking time.”
It was all I needed to hear. I threw myself at him, crushing my lips to his and wrapping my arms around his neck. He embraced me immediately, his arms warm and strong around my back, his mouth slanting over mine. He tasted like chocolate and desire. Yes, I thought. Yes, yes, yes. This is the answer.
I reached for his belt.
Eight
WES
This couldn’t be real.
I didn’t care.
Even if it was a dream, it was the best damn dream I’d ever had. She wanted me. She wanted me. One second she was standing across from me, looking at me like a frightened little bird, and the next she was crashing into me, her lips seeking mine.
I didn’t even think—I just pulled her closer and kissed her back like I’d always wanted to. It was almost like a moment out of time, a moment that was supposed to happen long ago, but didn’t, and was happening now instead, as if the relentless arrow of time had unexpectedly looped back on itself to explore another possibility.
A terrifying, transcendent possibility.
How far could we let this go?
She reached for my belt.
“Hannah.”
“Let me. Please.”
I felt her breath on my lips as her fingers fumbled with my belt.
Oh God, this was so fucked up. I wanted to do the right thing, but I was having trouble remembering what that was. I groaned as she slipped the button of my jeans through its hole and lowered my zipper.
“Hannah.” I grabbed her wrists, looked her right in the eye. The kitchen was bright enough that I could see her perfectly. She was breathless and wild-eyed and so fucking beautiful. But this wasn’t right—I could see it in her face. She was in pain. Desperately lonely and longing for someone…but how could I be sure it was me? What if she was missing Drew right now and I was just a close enough second? What if I disappointed her? What if Drew had some sort of magic dick or she expected me to know all his moves? Even worse, what if we
did this tonight and she regretted it tomorrow? She wasn’t in her right frame of mind right now.
And she trusted me.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said.
“Fuck you. Yes, I do.” She struggled against me, but I had her arms captured at her sides. Tears of frustration glassed her eyes. “You don’t know how I feel.”
“I know you’re lonely. I know you miss Drew. I know that you’re angry, maybe even at Drew for cheating on you, and this feels like a way to get back at him.”
“Right now, I’m angry at you.” She gave me a look that threatened to singe my skin. “Let me go.”
I waited another few seconds until she stopped struggling, and then released her wrists. Immediately she slapped me, a bare palm right across the cheek. Not that hard, not that painful, but still, it stung. I grimaced, closing my eyes for a second. “Goddammit, Hannah. I’m doing the right thing.”
“Fuck you!” she cried, loud enough to wake Abby. “Fuck you and everyone else for telling me how I feel or what to feel or when I can feel it.” She pointed directly at my chest, where my heart was cracking in two. “If you didn’t want me, you should have just said so.” With tears spilling over, she turned and ran out of the room, and I heard her feet pounding up the stairs a few seconds later.
Exhaling, I ran a hand over my jaw and stood there for a moment, mad as fuck. Hadn’t I done the right thing? Hadn’t I saved us both from the wretched fallout of what would certainly have been a terrible mistake? Did she know how easily I could have let it happen, how fast I could have torn off her clothes, thrown her down, and fucked her right there on the kitchen floor? Or on the table? Or standing right here with her legs wrapped around me, my hands gripping her ass as I drove into her again and again and again?
Fuck. I adjusted myself and zipped up my pants, but my dick stubbornly refused to surrender.
So now what? Did I just leave? Let her think I didn’t want her? Let her believe she’d imagined the closeness between us? I’d felt it too, all damn day. I’d practically had to sit on my hands all afternoon to keep from touching her again after I lost my senses and ran my fingers down her back. But I hadn’t been able to resist.
From This Moment Page 9