by Carian Cole
“I miss you, Ladybug.”
“I miss you, too.”
The click of his tongue piercing… a sound I’ve missed.
He coughs nervously. “Can I maybe see you sometime?”
My heart jumps so hard a tiny gasp comes out of my mouth in response.
“I’d love to see you. More than love, actually, but that’s the only word that even comes close.”
He lets out a short laugh. “I want to see you, too. Really fuckin’ bad.”
I’m so excited I start to shake. “Whenever is good for you. Just let me know. I can come there, or you can come here.”
“Let me think about it and talk to my doctor about when and what’s best.”
“Okay.”
“Piper….” Another long pause leaves me breathless with apprehension “I just wanted to say thank you. For dealing with all my shit. And for making this easier for me than it probably should be.”
“I don’t deal with you. I love you. In every way—I love you. And I know you love me. That’s what makes it easy.”
“Loving you is an understatement,” he says. “I’ll call you again... soon. I just need some more time.”
I hold onto the phone for several minutes after he ends the call. A slush pile of feelings builds up inside me again. Hope, sadness, excitement, impatience, nervousness. I feel like a mental smoothie—everything thrown in and whipped up into gush. I wish there was a way we could fast forward and get to the part where we’re happily married, enjoying our life together, with no more uncertainty or gray areas.
The front door opening and closing jolts me out of my daze and Lyric comes running in with Josh not far behind her.
“Mom! Uncle Josh took me to the mall on the way home from Grandma’s and we had pretzels and then he bought me these awesome boots!” She throws a shopping bag on the kitchen table and pulls out a huge shoe box.
“Look at them! Aren’t they cool?” She holds up a black boot with fringe hanging down the side.
“They are!” I exclaim. “I had a pair just like those when I was in high school.”
“I remember,” Josh says, leaning against the counter.
“I love them! I’m going to go put them away.” She throws her arms around Josh. “Thanks, Uncle Josh. Love you.”
“Love you too,” he says as she skips off to her room.
I give him the side-eye as I pick the vase up out of the sink and put it back in the middle of the table.
“You’re not supposed to spoil her,” I remind him.
“I’m not spoiling her. They’re just boots. They’re not even real leather. Every time we walk by the shoe store she says she wants them. I thought they were cute, especially since you had a pair.”
Josh has lived up to his word of continuing to spend time with Lyric. He always makes time for her, even if it’s just to pick her up at my parents’ house and take her to the mall for a quick snack before bringing her home.
“Thanks for picking her up and getting her the boots. She’s getting more and more interested in clothes all of a sudden. She’s going to outgrow her closet soon. I might need a bigger house.”
“You can move back into my place. Remember? Where you both had huge walk-in closets…” He raises an eyebrow.
“Stop it.”
He grins and shrugs. “I can’t help it if I hate my empty house.”
“Then sell it and buy one of those cool open concept expensive lofty apartments with the brick walls inside.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Did I tell you my ex and his partner adopted a baby?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah. When I wanted a baby, it was all ‘Ooh I’m not ready yet’.”
“Well in his defense, that was years ago, Josh. Things change. People change.”
“I guess you’re right.” He nods his chin toward the flowers. “Where’d the flowers come from?”
“Blue sent them.”
His eyes widen. “Really? What’s up with all that?”
“Nothing is up.”
“So how is he?”
“He seems really good. He called me for the first time right before you and Lyric got here.”
He crosses his arms. “Flowers and phone calls. Seems like apologies and groveling?”
I shoot him a warning glare. “Josh, we have to start somewhere.”
“Or you could not start anywhere and just let it be over.”
Ignoring him, I gently touch one of the flower petals and fall into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Piper… I’m worried about you. And Lyric.”
“We’re fine.” I do not want to have this conversation again. Or ever.
He moves across the room and sits across the table from me, making it clear we are very much going to have this conversation.
“The guy put a ring on your finger and then attempted suicide, Piper. How could you possibly be fine?”
“Because he’s getting help. He was sick and taking the wrong medication. He wasn’t thinking straight. And I’ve been in therapy, too. I feel a lot better now.”
“You shouldn’t need therapy to be in a relationship.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Josh. I was depressed, confused, and really pissed off about what he did.”
“As you should be.”
“No, you’re wrong. I really shouldn’t be. That’s like me being mad at you for being bi, and for you being confused about what or who you want. If you weren’t, maybe we would have lasted. Maybe we’d be married with our own kids right now and be happy.”
“That’s really fucking low.”
“Is it? Or is it the same thing? People can’t change who they are inside, or how they feel, or how they’re wired, Josh. That doesn’t mean they should be dumped and forgotten.”
He shakes his head at me. “It’s not exactly the same.”
“To me it is. I’m not going to split hairs with you. I accept you for who you are, no matter what. Just like I accept him for who he is.”
“But you and I are friends. You want to marry this guy. What if he does this crazy shit again? Or acts all…fucky for the rest of this life?”
I cringe at his choice of words.
“I don’t think he’ll do it again. And if he does? Or if he acts fucky as you so nicely put it? Then we’ll deal with it together, like couples are supposed to.”
He blows out an irritated breath. “You don’t deserve that. Don’t you want a good relationship for once? Ditra and I talked about this a few weeks ago. For years we’ve watched you ride this rollercoaster with him. I’m not even saying you and I should try, Piper. I understand our ship sailed a long time ago. I’m saying you need an entirely new start with someone who can give you a hundred percent of themselves and not put you through an emotional grinder.”
Did I miss the memo that the rest of the population was perfect? Maybe there’re some couples out there who have never had a fight, never had any issues, and it’s been smooth sailing for them, but it seems like most couples go through varying degrees of messy at some point, no matter how much they love each other.
“Honestly, Josh…I don’t really think that exists with anyone. Nobody’s perfect. Everyone has baggage. You know that just as well as I do. And why do I deserve better? There’s nothing about me that deserves the Lamborghini of men. I’m just a boring average chick who only wants to be happy.”
“I just don’t know why you want to be with somebody so…high risk.”
“Because I love him. People don’t have to be perfect to be loved. They can be broken and sick and messed up and ugly. Everyone deserves love. And he makes me happy. When we’re together and things are good, I can’t imagine ever being happier than he makes me. I’m sorry if you don’t understand it, or if you’ve never experienced it, but I don’t have to justify our relationship to you, or anyone.”
He leans back in his chair and locks his eyes onto mine. “You’re sure? You’re really sure you want to stick this out with him?”
“Yes,” I answer without any hesitation. “I’m positive. And I want you to stop being so negative about it. Everyone has to throw in their two cents, and I’m sick of it, Josh. Ditra, my parents, people at work—everyone keeps telling me that Blue might lose his mind, or I’m the crazy one for wanting to be with someone with a mental illness. The only person who’s supportive of me and Blue is Reece. I’d really like people in my life to be supportive and I shouldn’t have to keep asking them to. If things work out, and I believe they will, he’s going to be my husband. And he’s Lyric’s father. I don’t want him treated like some sort of criminal by my friends and family.”
He stares intently at me for a few minutes, like he’s trying to get into my head, or maybe see into the future to see what’s in store for me. Or maybe for all of us.
“Okay,” he finally says. “Ya know what? You’re right. I’m being an asshole. I’m not going to say anything else. I’ll do my best to be on your side, because I’m your friend. I’ll even hang out with you guys when he comes back, and I’ll make a sincere effort to get to know him and be his friend. I just hope this guy knows how lucky he is.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That would mean a lot to me. I just want peace and happiness and love. That’s it.”
I sound like a hippie chick from the seventies. This is what my life has come down to.
“I’m actually seeing a girl. So if Blue’s going to be around, maybe we could all go for dinner?”
It may take a bit of convincing for Blue to want to hang out with Josh, since he’s stayed a little pissy about us living together years ago, but if they at least tolerate each other and don’t badmouth each other around me, I’ll be happy.
I smile and fuss with my pretty flowers a little more. “I’d like that. What’s she like? Any phobias or odd tendencies that will drive you mad before the fourth date?”
He laughs. “You’ll be glad to hear that we’ve had more than four dates and I still like her.”
I make an overly surprised, ridiculous impressed expression. “Wow. It sounds serious.”
“It might be. Who knows. She’s smart, she’s wicked sexy, she’s independent. I have no idea what she sees in me.”
“You’re smart and wicked sexy, too. Not very independent, sadly, as you seem to be afraid of the empty rooms in your house. But you guys could still be a great match.”
“Very funny.”
“Does she know?”
“That I go both ways?” he interrupts. “Not yet. Do you think I should tell her? Does it matter?”
Does it?
“Hmm. I’m not sure, really. I don’t know anything about these things. I guess if it makes you confused in your feelings for her, then yes, you need to tell her.” Having been on the wrong end of that myself, I can attest to the fact that it sucks. “But if you’re not confused and it poses no threat to your feelings or treatment of her in and out of the bedroom, then I don’t see why you’d have to tell her. That’s sorta like just telling people you hate seafood when you first date them. Is it any of their business that you don’t like shrimp? It has no bearing on your relationship, right? But if she asks you if you’ve ever been with a man, or if you like men, then yes, you have to tell her. Honesty is best.”
“Right.”
Lyric appears in the doorway, wearing her new fringy boots, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Honey the boots are beautiful, why are you crying?”
“Is it true?” she sobs. “About Blue?”
My heart sinks deep into my gut as Josh and I exchange a panicked look across the table.
“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, even though I know exactly what she means.
“On the internet… it said he tried to-to—” She bursts into tears, covering her face with her hands. Josh and I jump up. He knocks his chair onto the floor in the process as we rush to kneel in front of her to console her.
“Honey, he’s fine,” I say quickly. “I just talked to him this morning. And he sent me the flowers the other day.”
Her blue eyes swim with tears. “He’s not gone? Or dead?”
“No,” Josh assures her. “Your dad is not dead.”
Her bottom lip quivers. “But he tried to? Why?”
“It’s very complicated, Lyric.” God help me, I have no idea how to talk about this to a child.
She sniffles and rubs her eyes with her palms. “Why would he do that? Doesn’t he love us anymore?”
“Of course he does. He just felt overwhelmed…and the doctor accidentally gave him the wrong medicine and it made him feel very confused. He would never leave you or hurt you.”
“Then where is he? Why hasn’t he called me in so long?” she demands. “You said he was playing concerts and then you said he was resting but he hasn’t even called me. He always calls me and I learned all these songs for him and he hasn’t called me at all.”
“Lyric, he really is at a hospital. He had some broken bones, so he’s been in a lot of pain and sorta grumpy. And he had to talk to some special doctors about why he feels depressed and confused sometimes, but he’s feeling much better, and his body is healing. He asked about you this morning and I told him all about your new songs and how you’re teaching Mickey tricks. He’s excited to talk to you and see you again.”
She narrows her eyes at us. “Are you lying to me?”
“No,” Josh insists, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. “Your mom is telling you the truth. I promise you.”
She stares at us both with the first look of severe distrust I’ve ever seen in her eyes and it cracks my heart in two. This is how children lose their magic and innocence—from the crap life deals.
“Why didn’t you tell me? He’s my dad…”
“It’s very, very private. And he wanted to talk to you himself. When I talked to him this morning, we talked about him coming to visit. He loves you. It’s hard for him to talk about all this and he’s not ready yet. You know how sometimes when you don’t feel good and you just want to be alone, and lie in bed and nap and watch TV? That’s how he’s been feeling. He just needed some time alone to rest.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“When can I talk to him, then?”
“I’m not sure. But what I can do, is call his friend Reece and I can ask him to tell Blue that you’d like to talk to him, and I’m sure he’ll call you soon. Okay?”
“I guess.” Her face twists into a disappointed frown.
Josh smooths her hair and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs. “This is one of those things in life that adults understand but it’s really hard for kids to understand. You have to try your best to just be patient and trust your mom, and trust Blue,” he explains softly. “Why don’t you write him a nice letter? I think it’ll make you feel better, and I’m sure it will make him feel better, too. He must be missing you just as much as you miss him.”
“Can I do that?” she asks. “And maybe make him a card with a poem and print it on the computer?”
I nod enthusiastically “I think that’s a great idea. He’ll like that a lot.”
“Okay. I’m going to do it right now.”
As we watch her walk back to her room with her head hanging down, the anger and frustration I felt weeks ago for Blue rises back to the surface and I clench my jaw in an attempt to suppress it and not start venting about it to Josh, which will only make things worse.
“He better fix that,” Josh says when I glance up at him. “That’s all I’m saying.” He points down the hallway. “He needs to make this right somehow, because she doesn’t deserve to feel like that. She’s just a kid.”
I nod. “You’re right. And he will.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
I pack my clothes, throw my makeup bag in the suitcase, and kiss Lyric and Ditra goodbye at my front door. I tell them I’ll see them when I get back from my business trip in two days. Lyric, as always, is excited about Ditra stay
ing at our house with her because Dee is going to teach her how to bake a different cake each night. I have no idea when my best friend turned into Martha Stewart, but I hope there’s some cake left over for me when I get back home.
I wave goodbye to them as I back my car out of the driveway, then I drive eight miles across town to the hotel near the park. My stomach burns with anxiety as I park my car in the parking garage and then make my way to the hotel lobby. I bypass the front desk and go directly to the elevator, getting off on the second floor.
Room 1205.
I hesitate in front of the door, fluffing my already-fluffed hair, straightening my already-straight shirt, taking extra breaths I don’t need to take.
I knock lightly on the maple door and time seems to screech to a halt as I wait. My suitcase feels twice as heavy as it did a few seconds ago, the handle slippery in my damp palm.
I shouldn’t be this nervous, and it’s silly that I am, because it’s only….
Blue.
Evan.
The door opens and I’m staring up into eyes the color of faded denim.
He steps to the side and I cross the threshold so he can close the door behind me. After placing my stuff on the floor I turn to face where he’s still hovering near the door.
I expected him to look different after spending six months in a hospital recovering from various physical and mental issues.
But I didn’t expect him to look so much better.
Not that he’s ever really looked bad. He was born with the kind of good looks that can’t look bad no matter what mess he made of himself. But holy shit, the man standing in front of me is like Blue version 2.0 with the extended elite upgrade package.
His wavy hair is a few inches shorter, just a bit past his collarbone instead of the mid-chest length it’s been since I first met him. It makes him look mature and more handsome.
The feather still hangs from his ear, but he’s explained it came from a good bird.
It’s obvious he’s not only put some weight on, but also muscle. The width of his arms and shoulders appears to be almost double what they were and I’m already fantasizing about what he must look like now with his shirt off. I’m surprised with how healthy and vibrant he looks—like one of those people who goes to the gym, gets eight hours of sleep every night, takes vitamins and drink lots of water. He no longer looks like a rock star who spent the majority of his life wasted and battling inner demons. He looks amazing and sexy and... calm. Nervous, yes, but also radiating an inner calmness.