by Carr, Mari
Bryan took her proffered hand and gave it a squeeze as she led him into the living room. “You’ll have to come visit me and I’ll give you a tour. The house I’m renting was built in the forties. Really classic old-style.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“What’s all this?” Bryan asked as he noticed her rather extensive spread on the coffee table.
“I’m hosting a red-carpet party for the Oscars tonight.”
“Oh.” Bryan stopped and looked around, obviously confused by the lack of people. “I’m sorry. I’m interrupting. I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”
Laura stopped him with a hand on his arm when he turned, intent on heading back toward the front door. “No, I’m not. This is my party.”
Bryan gave her a funny look. She couldn’t blame him. She’d made all her favorite foods, enough to feed an army. In her defense, she had expected Katie would join her when she went grocery shopping. She’d be eating leftovers for lunch and dinner for the entire week just to get rid of all of it.
“You’re having a party by yourself?”
She laughed. “Georgie thinks I need to throw a theme dinner party. I thought I’d practice the concept since I’m a bit rusty on entertaining and the Oscars seemed like the perfect opportunity. I’ve always loved awards shows, but Mason, my ex, hates them. So when we were still married, I usually went upstairs to watch them on the smaller TV in our bedroom while he watched sports on the big screen. This year, I’m watching in style.”
He gestured to her comfy sweatshirt and lounge pants. “That’s your red-carpet style?”
“I considered dressing up, but the fashion part of the show goes on for hours, then once you add in the awarding of the Oscars, I decided on comfort over glam.”
“How very un-Hollywood of you.”
“But,” she said, lifting a champagne flute, “I am drinking bubbly and eating a feast. Would you want to hang out with me for a while? There’s plenty of food.”
“I’d hate to disrupt your party of one.”
She shrugged. “It would be more fun to have someone else around to criticize the ugly gowns with me.”
Bryan tugged off his jacket and threw it over a nearby chair. “Then count me in. Joan Rivers has nothing on me. I’m king of the trash-talkers.”
She went to the kitchen to grab another glass, then filled it and offered him the champagne. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“That reminds me.” Bryan reached for his coat and pulled a CD out of the pocket. “This is from Trina. For your daughter. I told her that you mentioned Katie liking her style of music. Her band cut their first album—recorded it in the studio at school. She wanted Katie to have a copy.”
Laura took the CD, touched by the gesture. “Well, isn’t that sweet? I’ll drop by Katie’s apartment after work tomorrow and give it to her. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She and Bryan sat down on the couch. Laura was amazed by how easy it was to be with him. They’d gone twenty-seven years without speaking or seeing each other, but they had picked up the friendship exactly where it left off without a hiccup. She touched her lips, recalling his kiss. Maybe this time around, she could talk him into a friends-with-benefits deal.
“I never would have pegged you for a red-carpet fan. That’s one of the things I liked best about you back in high school. You weren’t obsessed with having the right clothes and hairstyle. You were all natural.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I was a tomboy.”
Bryan lifted one shoulder casually. “Nothing wrong with that. We had some good times. Remember that trip we took to the city?”
Laura laughed. “Oh my God. I’d forgotten all about that. Ten of us in my dad’s Caprice Classic. And I’d only just gotten my driver’s license. What the hell were we thinking?”
Bryan took a sip of his champagne. “We were thinking we could score some fake IDs.”
“Jesus. We were idiots. None of us knew where we were going. Ryan and Angel shared a seatbelt in the front seat, while Rachel was stuck sitting on the floor in the back. It’s a wonder we weren’t all killed.”
Bryan rested his arm along the back of the couch, as Laura struggled not to be distracted by how close his hand lay to her face. It took all the strength she had not to lean closer and rub against his rough fingers, like a kitten seeking affection. What was wrong with her?
“The part that gets me is we made the ninety-minute trek there, actually got out and went sightseeing for a couple hours, drove home and still made our curfew.”
Laura nodded. “Incredible, right? My mother found pictures I’d taken from that night shortly after I graduated from high school. She was pissed. She started yelling at me. I told her I was pretty sure the statute of limitations on getting in trouble for that had run out. I mean it was two years after the fact and she was absolutely furious.”
Bryan laughed. “Fortunately, my dad never found out. Christ, I shudder to think about the lashing I would have gotten for that if he’d caught us. Sometimes I envied you with your dad. He wasn’t super strict like mine. How’s he doing?”
Laura’s stomach clenched, although his question didn’t hurt as much as it would have a couple years earlier. “He passed away three years ago. Brain tumor.”
“Oh shit, Laura. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She smiled sadly. “How could you? It’s okay. When I look back, I realize I wouldn’t be sitting here if things hadn’t gone the way they did.”
Bryan tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“My father’s illness sort of shone a light on some of the things that were going wrong in my marriage. Opened my eyes to some problems I’d been ignoring.”
“What sort of things?”
Laura blew out a long breath. “God. Everything. When we were at the hospital, waiting to find out if the tumor was cancerous, the doctor came out after surgery and gave us the bad news. The cancer was stage four and spreading. He told us Dad was looking at maybe six more months to live.”
Bryan leaned closer. “You must have been devastated.”
“I was. But at that point, it was mostly shock, disbelief. I looked around the waiting room. My sister was crying as her husband held her. My brother had his arms around his wife and my mom, the three of them clinging to each other. And I was alone.”
Bryan frowned. “Where was Mason?”
“At work. He’d asked me that morning if I wanted him to come. I said no.”
“Why did you say that?”
Laura had considered that conversation many, many times. “He’d been complaining about how busy work was, how the flu had left them down two salesmen and how he really needed to work the floor. You know his family owns Sanders’s Auto, right?”
Bryan nodded. “I remember that from high school.”
“Yeah. Well. He made that long speech about how rough things were at work, and then he hit me with the question about coming with me. At the time, I thought I was being an understanding, patient wife. Saying no because it seemed selfish of me to ask him to be there when things were so tough at work.”
“That wasn’t a selfish request, Laura.”
She grinned, though there was no humor in the expression. “I know. But I also realize that’s not why I said no. I was angry with him for asking if he had to come. Shouldn’t he have wanted to be there? Why would he fucking ask me that? My dad was dying.”
Bryan grasped her hand and squeezed it, offering her the comfort she hadn’t received that day at the hospital. “I’m sorry he wasn’t there for you.”
Laura shook her head, trying to shake loose the bitter thoughts. “I didn’t mean to dump that on you. Ancient history.”
Mercifully, Bryan let the subject drop. “Is your mom doing okay?”
Laura nodded, grateful for the reprieve. “Yeah. She still has good days and bad. In the end, I sort of saw his death as a blessing. He was suffering so much and I hated seeing him in pain. No one should ever have
to live like that.”
“Was he sick long?”
“It seemed like a long time when we were going through it, but actually it was only a few months. He was lucid almost until the end. Knowing he was going to die gave him the chance to make peace with it and to say all the things he’d ever wanted to say. Those last few weeks we spent together were some of the best of our relationship.”
“I’m glad you had that time with him. Sometimes death isn’t quite that kind. It sort of sneaks in and steals someone away in the blink of an eye.”
Laura suspected Bryan was speaking from experience. “Is that what happened to your wife?”
It occurred to Laura that while she and Bryan had been talking for nearly a month, they hadn’t really said much. Usually their conversation involved a discussion of their daily lives, memories of the past, funny little jokes or stories. They hadn’t shared anything along the lines of personal information.
“Corinne had type one diabetes. She’d been diagnosed as a child and had learned to live with her condition, but it took its toll on her. She was quite thin, weak. I’m not sure she ever got a handle on her insulin levels. Hypoglycemia was always there, looming in the background.”
“I’m surprised she had Trina. I thought it was dangerous for women with diabetes to have babies.”
“Not all women, but for Corinne, yes. I tried to talk her out of getting pregnant, fought her for nearly a year. I wanted to adopt, but Corinne flat-out refused. It started to put a strain on our marriage and—against my better judgment—I gave in. It was a hard pregnancy. She was bedridden the last four months and Trina was born early—a preemie.”
Laura’s chest ached as she thought about how difficult that time must have been for Corinne and Bryan. Laura had been blessed with a healthy body. Her pregnancy—even with twins—sounded like a cakewalk compared to what Corinne had suffered. “But she had Trina. She was fine.” She recalled Bryan telling her Corinne had died five years ago. That would have been around the time Trina was fourteen.
“She was really sick after the birth, but eventually, she regained some of her strength. Even so she was never quite the same—physically. Her body was worn out.”
“That must have been hard for you.”
Bryan waved it off, though she imagined him trying to care for a sick wife and newborn baby. “We were young and in love and had a beautiful baby girl. Life has a way of flying by while you’re too busy paying attention to other things. Those first couple of years with Trina were very happy. Like most first time parents, we took at least seven million pictures, filled five photo albums and swore our child was the most perfect baby ever born.”
Laura grinned. “Sorry. That can’t be Trina because Kevin and Katie were the most perfect.”
Bryan acknowledged her words with a chuckle. “See what I mean.” He sobered up quickly.
“So what happened to Corinne?”
“When Trina turned four, Corinne started talking about having another baby. I put my foot down. We started arguing, Corinne constantly pointing to Trina as if to prove she could have children, me reminding her of how sick she was after Trina was born. She went off the pill without telling me and got pregnant again.”
Laura sucked in a deep breath. “How old was Trina?”
“Five. Corinne had terrible morning sickness and her insulin bottomed out on a daily basis. She had a miscarriage during her fourth month.”
Laura put her hand over her mouth, fighting not to cry. “I’m so sorry.”
“Obviously we were both devastated. I wasn’t really in a good state of mind at the time.” Bryan stopped talking, but Laura sensed there was something he wanted to tell her. Something he wasn’t proud of.
“I’m sure you weren’t,” she said.
“I went to the doctor and had a vasectomy without telling Corinne.”
Bryan’s stiff posture caught Laura off-guard. Did he think she would condemn him for that?
“I see.”
“When I told her what I’d done…” Bryan paused. “Well, let’s just say it was the worst fight we ever had.”
Laura reached out and grasped Bryan’s hand. “Corinne was lucky to have you.”
He looked at her, surprised. “What?”
“I can’t imagine anyone loving me so much that they’d make a sacrifice like that to keep me safe and alive. It was a beautiful gesture.”
Bryan didn’t speak for several moments. Laura watched some powerful emotions cross his face. Finally, he squeezed her hand. “Corinne didn’t see it that way.”
Laura smiled kindly. “I’m sure she didn’t. At first.”
Bryan shook his head. “She never saw it that way. She went into a depression and her health continued to decline. Her kidneys failed when Trina was in ninth grade. She fell deathly ill one night, became unconscious. I called 911 and the ambulance took her to the hospital. She never woke up again and, by morning, she was gone.”
Blink of an eye.
Laura suddenly understood. And words failed her. What could she say?
Instead she scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her embrace. He accepted her hug and for several moments, they remained quiet as she tried to offer solace for a hurt that would probably never completely heal.
Bryan ended the hug, then cupped her face and smiled at her. “Thanks.”
She blinked back the tears that had been threatening to fall since he’d told her his story and nodded quickly, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.
She resumed her place on her side of the couch and they both stared at the TV.
Bryan broke the silence after several minutes when he leaned toward her food table. “Are those fried pickles?”
Laura giggled. “Yeah. They’re my favorite snack.”
“You’re kidding?”
She shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t naysay until you’ve tried them.”
“That’s not what I mean. They’re my favorite too.”
“Really?” She picked up the plate and offered him one. They took turns dipping the heart-clogging delicacies in the ranch dressing she’d poured out into a small condiment bowl and taking a bite.
“Where do you stand on double dipping?” he asked.
She laughed. “It’s totally disgusting. Unless—” she dunked her pickle in for a second dollop of dressing, “—it’s done among friends.”
“I like your standards.” He dipped a second time, then they both went back for dunk three, grinning widely.
They watched the red carpet, making comments on the dresses and discussing the talent—or lack thereof—of the actors as they stopped for their brief interviews with Ryan Seacrest. Several times, Laura consulted her smartphone, looking up the answers to various questions about movies or actors that popped up as they talked.
Bryan laughed. “What the hell did you ever do before a smartphone?”
Laura shrugged. “I have no idea, but my memory used to be a hell of a lot better. Now that I’ve got this thing, I’ve let go of lots of useless info that was just taking up space.”
Bryan raised his eyebrows. “Is that what you call it? Clearing out? Making space?”
Laura gave him a superior look. “If you’re trying to insinuate that my memory isn’t as good as it used to be because I’m getting older, then you, sir, for that insult, have just lost the right to the last fried pickle.”
Laura quickly reached for the pickle, her fingers grasping it just a hairsbreadth faster than Bryan.
“You used to have a better sense of fair play. The Laura I knew back in the day would have split that with me.”
Laura pretended she was going to break the pickle in half, then, at the last minute, she ran her tongue along the entire length, marking the food as hers. “That was then, this is now. This Laura is a bitch.”
She laughed at his narrowed eyes, then took a big bite of the pickle.
Bryan shook his head. “You really shouldn’t have done tha
t.” He moved closer.
Laura tossed down the pickle and started to rise, but Bryan captured her before she could escape. He tugged her onto her back on the couch and proceeded to tickle her.
Laura gasped for air as she laughed uncontrollably, struggling for freedom from his tormenting fingers. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had tickled her, but the memories of helplessness mixed with humor assaulted her. It reminded her of her father and how he would chase her around the house, pretending to be the tickle monster, capturing her and making her laugh. It was a precious memory. A gift. One she’d forgotten, tucked away.
Tears of mirth streamed down her face. Bryan paused, smiling, obviously pleased at having issued what he deemed a suitable punishment. Their exertions left them lying on the couch with Laura beneath Bryan, who had her caged in as he held himself above her on his hands and knees.
Laura’s breathing accelerated. She wanted to blame the tickles, but she’d been around the block long enough to recognize arousal. Desire.
Bryan studied her face. God only knew what he saw there because he bent his arms, lowered himself until his chest lay flat against hers. And then he kissed her.
Laura raised her arms to his shoulders, wrapping them around his neck.
She savored the feeling of Bryan’s lips pressed firmly to hers, his fingers tangling in her hair. She wasn’t sure who raised the bar, perhaps they moved there together, but soon their mouths were open, their tongues touching, tasting, teasing.
Bryan shifted his hands, sliding them under her back, lifting her closer to him. His knees rested between her outstretched thighs and it took all of Laura’s self-control to stop herself from wrapping her legs around his waist and grinding her sex to his.
She wasn’t sure how long they lay there, lost in their hungry kisses. Neither of them sought more than the connection of their lips. Hours could have passed for all the awareness Laura had of her surroundings. All that mattered was she was here, with Bryan.
Please don’t let this moment end.
It took several minutes for either of them to realize someone was knocking on the door. Bryan shifted away, his face inches from hers. They were breathing rapidly, the air around them heated, charged with lust.