by Melissa Blue
“Why is it insane?” A stupid question, but it needed to be asked.
“She’s incapable of love,” Marilyn said.
“Ouch.” Drew rocked back on his heels.
“It’s the truth.” Marilyn clung to the gate. “If she found fault with Greg, she simply is incapable of anything loving. Not to mention, she listened to some guy who had the hots for her and broke off her engagement.”
Drew stepped back with surprise. “What?”
“Oh, you think I couldn’t see you drooling over her?”
Keri sighed behind him, and he heard the machine going again. “I’m tapping out of this one. She’s on a roll.”
“You weren’t obvious, but you had the look of a lost puppy every time she came around. I was proud of you for not crossing the line. We’re family but that means nothing if there isn’t anything stronger behind it. When you didn’t cross the line, it meant your friendship with Greg meant something.”
“But now you’re mad at me because she broke the engagement?”
His cousin huffed. “I’m mad because she listened to you. She listened to a guy hard up over her and that means she felt something back. And I was right.”
“Or, maybe I was right,” Drew argued. “No one else seemed to notice she wasn’t happy. Why in the hell would I want my cousin to marry someone who wasn’t ecstatic about marrying him?”
“Which goes back to my point. Why wouldn’t she be happy with Greg? He’s a great guy.”
He shifted the bat between his fingers, uncertain of what to say next. He settled on, “You should tell Greg this.”
“Yeah, maybe, but right now that’s not the problem.” Her fingers clawed into the gate. “You’re looking at that she-witch with puppy dog eyes again. I’m not going to let another cousin go down like that.”
He crossed his arms, because every barb had landed on its intended target. How many times had he wondered if Abigail would ever feel anything but lust for him? He didn’t believe he was less of a man compared to Greg. Just that his cousin had qualities women looked for in a man, for the long term. Women looked at Drew and figured one night or a few months. It’s why he’d called it quits for a while with relationships. He wanted more. He wanted someone he could be more with.
“You don’t know her,” he said.
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t want her for you. She’s got a crap track record as far as I’m concerned.” Marilyn sighed. “I’m saying you should have someone who won’t get cold feet and run.”
All things he’d tried to tell himself. Drew walked over to her at the gate. “Everyone does.”
“Ok.” She stopped the tirade for a moment and then perked up. “How about I put it this way? Don’t do it. It’s insane. You’re going to get your heart ripped out and I’ll have to beat her senseless.”
He scoffed. “I’ve gotten my heart broken before. You didn’t beat her senseless.”
“Because she was a teenage girl. Yes,” Marilyn nodded. “Teenager and that was the last time you were head over heels in love with someone. May be why you think Abigail’s a good bet. She’s not.”
“How do you know?”
Marilyn narrowed her gaze. “Keri, are you listening?”
The sound of a ball meeting bat filled the caged area. “Of course not,” Keri grunted.
Marilyn didn’t lower her voice despite the answer. “I’ve dated women like Abigail. I think those outgoing, independent and opinionated women are the Carter’s Achilles’ heel. We have a skewed view of them and needing them to need us. It’s the anti-thesis of who they are.”
“You’re forgetting one important factor: all those women were loners. Abigail isn’t.”
Marilyn closed her eyes. “You want her to be the exception to the rule. Is she, really?”
He shifted and hoped to dispel some of the crows’ of doubt. “No one expected me to amount to anything. From the outside looking in, I shouldn’t have.”
“That was years ago.” Her voice rose. “You were a teenager for goodness sakes. Hell, for some of our family we don’t even have to go that far back to find out how they act under pressure.”
“Thanks,” he said with sincerity. “But beside the point. Who I am is not what I’ve done.”
She snorted. “I am so glad Oprah is off the air.”
He grinned. “I loved that woman.”
“You loved the way she looked in heels, you pervert.”
“True.” He rolled his shoulders still not able to dispel the unease. “Would it change your mind if I told you she thinks us getting together is a bad idea?”
Marilyn frowned. “Why?” He told her. She didn’t seem convinced. “Hitler had a dog.”
He pushed back from the gate. “See, I can’t take anything you said about her seriously. Hitler? Really?”
His cousin crossed her arms. “Ok. I stepped over a line, but my point is the same. Don’t do it. Run. Don’t walk. Wait.” She perked up again. “If you really care about Abigail, don’t put her in a position that will place her job or the people she cares about in jeopardy.” She grinned at him, knowing that if nothing else this argument could sway him.
He shook his head. “Why did I want to talk to you about this?”
“You wanted reason,” Marilyn said. “Though I still think going out for beers will nip this crush in the bud.”
He was smart enough not to correct his cousin. It wasn’t a crush. You had a crush for a few months, at the most. Plus, it was a scientific fact—well probably not—once you got to know your crush the feelings went away. His feelings didn’t and probably wouldn’t. He was infatuated and, of course, that would be the one thing he wouldn’t ever admit to anyone. It left him too vulnerable. It meant if he screwed up…Drew rubbed a hand over his face. He wouldn’t screw up.
Marilyn groaned. “Oh, I know that expression.” She rested her head on the gate. “Nothing I said worked, did it?”
He would have hugged her if a fence hadn’t been separating them. “Think of it this way: when she does break my heart, you’ll have a chance to say I told you so.”
She lifted her head higher and smiled. “Really?”
“Really, really,” he assured her.
“You do love me.”
The machine behind them turned off. “Ok,” Keri said, “I heard the word beer. Let’s go get some.”
“Do you see why I love her?” Marilyn said.
“Yes,” Drew said. “McNally’s?”
“Where else?” She started to walk away and stopped. “By the way, you’re buying since you’re being stupid.”
He had to force the offended tone. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You’re a Carter. Yes, you have.”
Well, he couldn’t really argue. She paused and then cut him with a look. “Please don’t tell me you invited her to my birthday party.”
He grinned, having forgotten the occasion. “Now that you mentioned it…”
*****
Emma’s smile was slow in coming but it spread across her face. Since Abigail had gotten used to Tobias being the reason most often, she didn’t question the satisfied grin. The dim lights in the bar washed out the chestnut shade of her friend’s wavy locks. Yet, there was enough illumination to make the engagement ring on her finger gleam.
“What’s your stance on fate?” Emma said.
That’s when the suspicion began to creep in and Abigail’s stomach clenched. “Why?”
“I’m trying for an intellectual conversation until Sasha gets here?”
“Fate and Sasha in the same sentence.” Abigail turned to look around the bar. “Huh.” No one she knew, but, again, the low light didn’t exactly leave room for a good visual of the bar.
“I believe in fate.” She faced Emma who still had a sly smile. “But from this abrupt change in conversation, I’m going to guess Sasha called you and told you about lunch yesterday.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Emma’s voice pitched high.
�
�You don’t do innocent well anymore. Not since you let Tobias take off your purity ring.”
Emma took a sip of the Fuzzy Navel she’d ordered. “She did, but that’s not why I’m asking about fate.” She paused. “I’ve been thinking, and I came to the conclusion maybe it wasn’t Greg you were supposed to be with.”
They had this conversation before, back when she first broke things off with him. “I know.”
Emma shook her head. “I mean you met both Drew and Greg the same day, right?”
Abigail looked down at her Fuzzy Navel. “I’m going to need something stronger if this convo is going where I think it is.”
Emma raised her hand, signaling their barkeep. McNally’s was their regular hang out, outside of Sweet Tooth. Packed most Friday nights, they made sure to tip whoever manned the bar forty bucks to take good care of them. Emma started up again after the waiter placed whiskey in front of Abigail.
“Now listen for a moment.” Emma held up her hand. “You met them both on the same day, but for whatever reason you chose Greg.”
“It was cold in the bookstore. Drew was distracted.”
“So, if he had kept eye contact with you, what would have happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, tired and achy and not because the week had been long. “Greg smiled at me and I was a goner.”
Emma didn’t look convinced. “You don’t find Drew attractive?”
“It’s a bad idea.” The words felt like a mantra. “It’s not just me and my hormones at stake. It’s my team. It’s my job. So, attractive or not, the situation is nipped in the bud.”
“Why’d you kiss him then?” Of course, Emma would go for the jugular when soft and kind didn’t work.
“It happened. Won’t happen again.”
“How do you know?” Emma posed the question in a light tone. “If it’s meant to be. If you were supposed to leave with Drew that day, then it’s fated you guys will end up with each other.”
Abigail played with the condensation on the glass before she answered, “You’re just seeing happily ever afters for all of us. It’s not for me. He’s not fated to be mine. End of convo.”
Emma grinned. “Ok. If you say so.”
“Of course,” a deep, husky voice said behind her. The timbre sent a shiver down her spine and she wanted to curl into it. Wanted to swat at the fireflies and swear off strawberries, but what lay in the picnic basket tempted her.
Abigail glared at Emma. “I hate you so much right now.”
Emma sighed with contentment. “I know,” she said out loud, and then mouthed fate.
“It’s not,” Abigail argued, because it had to be untrue. “Coincidence.”
“’A rose with another name,’” Emma quoted.
Drew sat down beside Abigail at the table, two other women took up the other seats. One of them she recognized as his cousin, Marilyn. She looked downright under-joyed to see Abigail.
“Didn’t know you came here.” The woman’s words had bite. Her hair was pulled back into a taut ponytail, and she looked ready for war.
“Haven’t in a while, but it’s our hang out.” Abigail sucked down a good half of her drink, because it was going to be a long night.
“Our?” Marilyn’s sleek brow furrowed, making the already vicious expression formidable.
“I’m sure you remember Emma.” Abigail pointed across to her friend who had the good sense to signal the barkeep again.
Drew leaned in closer to her and whispered, “She’s pissed. Play nice.”
She leaned back, and he smelled of sun and freshly cut grass. “Might help if I knew why.”
Drew notched his head to the left. “I like you.”
She leaned into him this time because his smell reminded her of the kiss. Made her fingers twitch because she wanted to reach forward and grab hold of his shirt in a fist and kiss him again. She caught Marilyn’s narrowed gaze.
“That’s not why,” she said in a normal voice.
The woman knew Abigail liked him back. Probably on a smaller level, because she’d already broke one cousin’s heart.
“You were saying?” Marilyn asked, and the other woman cleared her throat.
“Excuse my cousin’s manners.” Drew pointed to the other woman. “This is Keri.”
The other number in his phone. “Oh, nice to meet you.” Abigail reached across the table to take the offered hand. She directed her next comment at Marilyn. “Didn’t know you came here.”
“Usually on Saturdays. Regular.”
Drew sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “This is the first time I’ve witnessed a pissing contest between women.”
“It’s not,” both women said.
Emma put up her hands. “Who wants to go with me to the bar?”
“Me,” Drew said. Keri also stood and they left.
“Cowards,” Abigail said.
“Aren’t they? But I think it’s best if I only said this to you. Leave Drew alone.”
Abigail snorted. “I think you have the situation twisted. I’m not going after Drew. We have to work together for the next couple of weeks. That’s it.”
“You have to work together? Holy hell.” Marilyn slumped in the chair. “My cousin’s dumber than I thought.”
“What do you mean?”
Marilyn clamped her mouth shut and took in Abigail. There was no telling what Drew’s cousin thought or had intended to say, but she crossed her arms. “Is this some ploy?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Abigail said honestly.
“Drew has a crush on you.”
She shrugged. “It’ll pass.”
“And you want it to?”
“Yup.”
“Why?” Marilyn shot back.
Abigail was tired of explaining herself, but the thought hit her. If the situation was different, would she go head long into an affair with Drew? What excuse would she have then?
“Plenty of reasons,” she said. “Drew likes for people to believe he’s something he’s not. I think he breaks out in hives when the word commitment is uttered. He’s a date-aholic.”
He’s considerate. Funny. He had an incredible work ethic, even though ignoring the potential conflict of any relationship between them did make him lose brownie points. Last, but not least, Abigail had a momentary heat spell whenever she remembered the kiss.
“Drew is more than the sum of his faults,” Marilyn growled.
Abigail laughed at the comment. For one, it was true. The other reason… “I thought this intervention was to steer me away from him?”
A corner of Marilyn’s mouth raised in a smile. “It’s hard for me to sit here and listen to someone sandblast my cousin.”
The woman turned to glance at the bar. Keri, Drew and Emma were coming back. Drew had a tray expertly hitched in the crook of his elbow and resting on his forearm. The tray was topped with various foods—chicken wings being the item that caught her eye. Both Keri and Emma had the drinks.
Marilyn frowned, looking pensive. “Maybe you don’t want to want him, but you do. It’s the way you look at him. Drew’s not dumb. He sees it.”
Abigail could only shake her head. “Is this the part where you threaten me if I break your cousin’s heart?”
“Yes,” Marilyn said and paused. The anger in her gaze lessened. They’d probably never be best friends or even on cordial talking terms, but they’d always held a lot of respect for each other. “A piece of advice, since I was there before and after the implosion, don’t break your heart in the process either.”
Chapter Nine
“Your grandmother’s driving me nuts,” Pamela, her mother, said while digging in her bra. The older woman pulled out a small switch blade and placed the item on Gram’s ceramic-tile kitchen table.
Her grams had long since given up varnishing the last one, mahogany wood with several easily explained nicks. Though she’d kept the matching chairs and satin green cushions, Grams was very frugal. Of course, the cushions
matched the jade edges of the table and that was another incentive to keep them.
Her grams liked things and people in her life to be orderly and dramatic free. She constantly mentioned this. Hence, the current crisis Abigail had to resolve. Her mother was neither orderly nor dramatic free.
She sipped on her coffee, fell back on common sense, knowing the advice would be ignored. “Maybe if you moved out…”
“And then she’d call me every day, laying out the guilt trips, because I don’t come by to see her. No.”
Abigail tried to sap all the sarcasm out of her voice, but this was her mother. “Who would do such a thing?”
The second knife, stashed in the other D cup, clattered to the table. “I mean, she’s not a spry chicken anymore, but good Lord, could she not call me five times a day?”
She gave up on not showing sarcasm in her tone. “Who does she think she is? I mean, you just broke up with Charles and you’ve got no where to go.” Abigail annotated in her mind—husband number three. Or was it four? She’d lost count.
“Exactly! Since my own daughter wouldn’t take me in.”
Who did Pamela think she learned guilt trips from? The observation would start an argument and the last thing Abigail needed was an argument with the number-one drama queen.
Still as it always happened, a twinge of guilt sprouted roots. “I told you my apartment manager wouldn’t let me. Not after…my last roommate.” She cleared her throat. “Where’s Grams, anyway?”
The cell phone came out next, and Abigail started to wonder if her mother’s bosom had been the inspiration for clown cars. “Bingo.” The boob rummaging finally stopped. “Where else?”
Abigail inspected the rest of the kitchen. Dishes filled the sink, the stove needed a good wipe down. Going out to bingo was Grams way of making Pamela do house chores. Ignoring them was Pamela’s way of getting Abigail to clean up.
She took the coffee cup to the sink. “I thought you and Charles were going to work it out.”
“We gave it a try. We’re just not as compatible as we first thought.”
As Drew would say, “Translation: The whirlwind courtship was over and the real work began.”
Drawing dish water, Abigail could see the roots of her own making. Her parents had fallen deeply in love. They married, had her and things went to crap soon after. Her father was the kind of man who liked the slow and quiet life, so much like Gramps and Grams. It’s probably why Pamela had been so enamored with him. The problem? Pamela was like lit dynamite. She’d flit around and spark until an explosion occurred. You’d expect it, but would still reel from the shock of it all. Her father couldn’t hang on, no matter how much he loved her mother.