“I bought it,” I announce, like I said — just rip the Band-Aid off.
Tess’s eyes bulge almost completely out of her head before she squeals and runs and jumps into my arms. Lily’s right next to her, and they’re both hugging me tightly. My two favorite girls. Which could be weird because one is my sister, but we’ve always been close. In fact, for the past several years, she was more friend to me than sister.
“Dad!? Are you serious? You finally did it!?”
They know this has been my dream since, well, forever. Growing up with a southern father, the love of food was ingrained in me from an early age. Before Lily came along, my dream was to open my own restaurant, but we just didn’t have the money. Then Nicole left, and I put my dreams on the back burner. I never once minded, though. Giving my entire focus over to my daughter wasn’t a hardship by any means. I would do anything for her. She’s been the center of my universe for twenty years now.
Somehow, by the grace of God, she turned out amazing. She’s not a spoiled, selfish brat that many people assume when they hear only child — especially one raised by a single parent. She’s giving, respectful, loving and kind, everything that I wanted for her and from her. And most of all, she’s always encouraged me to find my happiness. So, this restaurant isn’t only for me. It’s for her. It’s to show her that no one’s ever too old to chase their dreams. That it’s never too late.
“I did.” I nod my head. My excitement over finding this place for sale can’t be contained. I’m smiling like an idiot, but I don’t care. I’m happy. It took a lot of years for me to be truly joyful and content with my life.
Sure, I had Lily, and I’m so thankful I did. If Nicole would have left me and taken her, I would have completely lost it. But that doesn’t mean that it was always easy, or fun, if I’m being honest. Being a single parent to a girl was and still is hard.
“I’m so happy for you!” Tess shouts. I wince and cover my ears. She playfully punches me in the shoulder, and gives me a big hug then steps back with her hands on my shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, big brother. This is amazing.”
“You ass, I thought something was wrong with you!” Barrett shakes his head.
“Yay! Another place to eat in town!” Maggie dances around, clapping her hands.
“That rocks, Uncle James! Can I get free food?” This from Grady with Cole, Tess and Barrett’s oldest son, nodding his head in agreement. Typical boys… or men, now.
“Boys!” Barrett commands, but he’s all smiles. He knows his kids. He knows they’re happy for me. “Seriously, man. This is great,” he says as he walks over and gives me a hug, nudging his wife out of the way only to hear her scoff at him.
“What’s happening?” Harper says, apparently completely oblivious to our entire conversation as she played with the dogs on the floor.
“Daddy,” I hear Lily say.
I look over at my baby girl. So grown up, no longer girl, but woman — but always and forever my girl in my eyes. Her eyes are filled with tears, but her smile shows me that her tears are only of happiness. Of pride that her dad is still willing to go after what he wants.
“I’m so proud of you. I know you’ve wanted this forever. Sacrificed everything and now…” She starts to full on cry, and standing next to Grady, he looks to the ceiling before pulling her into his arms like the awesome cousin, but more like big brother even though he’s four years younger. She cries on his shoulder for a few moments before I’m by her side, pulling her into my arms once again. She hugs me tighter than she’s ever hugged me before, and I relish in the moment of holding my favorite constant in my arms to celebrate this.
“Thank you, my sweet Lily Bug. Thank you,” I repeat to her, because it’s worth being said. Her happiness for me almost brings me to tears, but the sounds and noises around us of everyone talking and asking questions all at once has me brought back to reality pretty quickly.
I turn to Harper, who is still looking around the room completely confused. I bend down and crouch on my knees in front of her. “Harper. I bought a restaurant. It’s something I’ve wanted for a very, very long time. Has there ever been anything you wanted for as long as you can remember, and you finally got it?”
“Uh-huh! I wanted that bright pink Hula Hoop that had lights in it for-ev-er! And I still want bunkbeds for my room, but daddy said until I actually sleep in my room, I can’t get them.”
“Well, do you remember what it felt like when you finally got the Hula Hoop? Or what it will feel like when your dad builds you that set of bunkbeds you’ll get if you keep sleeping in your own room?”
“I played with it for hours! And I am sleeping in there!” she exclaims then turns a pint-size glare at her father.
He only rolls his eyes, apparently completely immune to her manipulative ways. “For more than a couple days, baby,” Barrett tells her. “Then I’ll build you the coolest set of bunkbeds you’ve ever seen.” Well, almost immune.
Harper scrunches up her nose at him then refocuses her attention on me. “So, you wanted the scary restaurant for a long time?”
“No, baby girl.” I chuckle. “I wanted a restaurant for a long time. A really, really long time. I’m not going to keep it scary. I promise. Will you help me? Make it not scary? Maybe you can help me decide what is going to be on the kids’ menu?”
“Corndog bites. And your mac and cheese, because even though kids think that box stuff is awesome, yours is wa-a-ay better. They just don’t know it yet. Ooh… and cheese pizza. And! Oh yeah — and mozzarella sticks. Make those things, and the kids will all love it there,” she says then pats me on the cheek and walks away.
We all laugh at her simplicity, and Grady chimes in, “I like those, too. Put them on the regular menu so I can eat ‘em.”
The rest of the evening is spent going between answering questions about what décor I plan to have (Tess), what building needs to be done (Barrett and the boys), if she can get a job waitressing (Maggie), what am I going to call it (Lily), and a lot of questions revolving around the menu. Even Mia, Cole’s girlfriend and old friend of the family, asked a couple questions.
After we feast on our homemade pizzas, everyone settles in the living room to watch a movie together. When it is over, all the girls head to the bedrooms they will be sharing, Grady goes to his room, probably to talk to Bri before going to sleep, and Cole ambles toward bed as well. I moved my stuff from Cole’s room to the spare bedroom, ditching the idea of being a buzzkill uncle and bunking with him. I’m sure he appreciates that, but at the same time, I highly doubt he will be using the bedroom for much other than sleeping. He respects both his parents and Mia too much.
The last month has completely exhausted me, but it still doesn’t stop my mind from drifting to the beautiful woman I met just a few weeks ago when I was watching Tess and Barrett’s kids. It’s not that I hadn’t heard of her, of course. Tess and I talk all the time, so obviously, her name has come up, including a bit of her background. But nothing prepared me for the intense and raw feeling I had when I first laid eyes on Carly. Plus, we’re both single parents. That unspoken bond of knowing what the other went through is there, pulsing between us.
A body that, even though she was dressed in skinny jeans and a long-sleeve black t-shirt, showed that she worked her muscles every day. Shiny blond hair that made me want to run my fingers through it, preferably while my lips were seared to hers in what I know would be a soul crushing kiss. But what I can’t get out of my mind, what keeps me awake at night, are her chocolate-brown eyes… Eyes that showed heartache and a willpower to overcome it… Eyes that have consumed my thoughts just simmering, waiting for the perfect time to boil over.
I’m a patient man. I waited decades to have my own restaurant.
Now I have a taste of something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, and I’m going to savor it. But there’s something new I want also, and as those eyes flitter across my mind as I lie in my bed, I know that until I get it all, I won’t be satisfi
ed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Carly
Men aren’t on my radar. Or, rather, they haven’t been for several years. As hard as I try to escape it, I can’t not see Vince in every man I meet.
My world imploded. I am broken in every possible way. It could have ruined me. I haven’t let it. It’s amazing what I have been able to overcome, and if it weren’t for being a mom, I probably wouldn’t have been successful. It took a lot for me to be able to get past the loss of a future I mapped out in my head.
But despite all that, James somehow broke through the barrier. I’m not blind. I saw the perfectly beautiful man with his tattooed sleeve, short dark hair, and strikingly blue eyes. I noticed how much he cared for his niece. My ovaries aren’t broken — seeing him love and protect a child made them go kaboom. But being a single mom for all these years, becoming a single mom the way I did, well, that made me a little shy of ever allowing my heart to love someone again. Heck, it made me shy of ever considering my heart for another man again.
I never expected James. I never thought that seeing him for such a short amount of time would elicit the feelings in me that he did. My body was alive once again for those few brief moments. When our eyes connected, my heart stuttered, my breath caught in my throat. It felt like all those romance novels I became addicted to, which made me feel a little silly. In the real world, people’s hearts don’t stutter just from someone’s look.
It’s been just a few weeks since I first laid eyes on James. For a tiny brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine my world differently. I allowed myself to think there was a possibility of something different. But that was only setting me up for heartbreak. He doesn’t even live around here, and that’s part of the reason I knew I had to walk away quickly. In fact, I know so little about James Cole that it’s crazy to even have these feelings for him. But the fact that he doesn’t live around here is so minor compared to the real reason I walked away.
But tell that to my body. When I lie in bed at night, I see his easy smile. My mind replays every incredible bit of interaction with Harper when he was at school visiting her. And, from what I heard, the way he reacted and took charge when she broke her arm? Not a woman on this planet would have been immune to that.
It’s the day after Thanksgiving, and while most people are out shopping to find some deals on cheap sheets and TVs that their family can’t live without, Jack and I are at the gym punching stuff, as he calls it.
We rarely miss a day, but lately I’ve been needing it more than typical. And it’s all because of Vince. Because he’s taken one more thing from me.
I have sweat dripping down my temple, and I’m pretty positive I can smell myself, but I feel amazing. Ever since Jack asked me to start boxing, to learn self-defense, I can’t get enough. Every day I walk into the gym, I get stronger, both physically and mentally. Three years later, I still feel my confidence boost just from knowing I can defend myself.
The first few times I came here, I pictured Vince’s face, heard his mocking voice. I hit harder. Kicked higher.
“You’re such a worthless slut.” Right punch.
“Did you even put makeup on today? You really need it.” Knee kick.
“No one else could ever love you.” Right cross.
“The only thing you’re good for is taking care of this house, and look at it. You can’t even do that right.” Jab. Cross. Left uppercut.
“All I do is work. The least you could do is provide a hot meal for me when I get home.” Left punch. Right cross.
“What did I ever see in you? You may want to be careful. There’s other women who know how to please me. You can’t even do that anymore, especially after having Jack.” Knee kick. Left cross. Jab. Right uppercut. Jab.
“Have you ever heard of a gym?”
Screw. Him.
When the memories of his hate-filled words began to fade, the vision of when he turned from simply emotionally abusing me to the first — and last — time he physically abused me, and I gained more strength. Gained more power, force. After I got out of the house with Jack, and we were in a safe place, my mind started to wander through our years together. I started doing some investigating and realized that my suspicions of him for years had been true. I confronted him about cheating on me when I asked for a divorce, and not surprisingly, he made me feel like it was my fault. Made me feel like I drove him to it. Like he had no other choice but to screw another woman. Have a relationship with her and abandon his wife and only child. It took me far too long to realize it wasn’t my fault.
I became used to his words but still never expected his abuse to turn physical. The moment he touched me in a manner that was anything but loving, I knew we would never recover. I knew in that moment that it was either him or me. That I could choose to let him win, let him take over my life even more than he already had. Or I could be fierce. I could be strong. I could show my son what a good man looked like, and that his father wasn’t it. I could show him the way to treat people. I could recover from divorce. What I couldn’t recover from was allowing my son to think it was okay to sling venom-filled words (and fists) at someone… anyone. Male or female. No one deserved that.
A few months after we settled into Liberty, a position came open at one of the elementary schools to substitute for one of the first-grade teachers who had to go on maternity leave. I was able to sub for her, which turned into a full-time position when she decided to stay home with her baby.
I changed my and Jack’s last name to Hanson, my great grandmother’s maiden name, and built a new life for ourselves. We were hidden. Vince knew he had no choice but to give me the divorce and let me walk away with Jack, or he’d be going to jail. The one and only time I met with him after I left with Jack, I showed him pictures that Jack made me take. I showed him the letter that Jack wrote him, detailing out exactly what he saw. I sat in the Starbucks of the town I once considered my home, staring at what I once thought was my forever and felt physically sick.
How I stayed married to that vile human being for as many years as I did is beyond my understanding. At first, he tried to throw a fit. A fit only worthy of Vince Taylor. Who could ever dare leave him? He was God’s gift to women, after all. But when I showed him the pictures I had printed, having copies of them hidden in a safe deposit box, and he read the letter, he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He signed the papers, albeit angrily, but he signed them.
Of course, that didn’t mean he would let me leave without a few lovely parting words.
“I see you really let yourself go.”
I stare blankly at him. I have gained almost fifteen pounds and felt healthier and happier than I had since before I got pregnant with Jack. No more runs, which I always hated. No more denying myself a cookie if I wanted one.
When I don’t reply, he sneers in my direction, “How did I ever let you trap me into marriage?”
“You mean when you got down on one knee and begged me to be your wife?”
He narrows his eyes at me as I stand to leave. I reach down to get my purse and move to get away from him once and for all, but he apparently has other plans, grabbing my arm, squeezing tightly. “Where’s my son?” he asks.
“You don’t deserve to know,” I bite out angrily, trying to wrench my arm free of his hold, but he only grips harder.
“He’s my son,” he narrows his eyes at me, venom lacing his voice.
“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, if you had read that letter, Jack plainly said you were no longer to consider him your son.”
“So, you’re brainwashing him now? He’s my blood. He’ll always be a Taylor,” he says with such a sickeningly sweet voice that I had to swallow down the vomit threatening to rise in my throat.
“You’re sick, Vince.”
“And you’re crazy if you think I’ll let you walk away.”
“Too late.”
He yanks on my arm and pulls me closer. The combination of his breath hot in my ear, tight grip on my arm, and t
he sound of his menacing voice causes me to whimper. “This isn’t over, Carly. You’ll never be free of me.”
Those last six words I heard him say to me have woken me up at night in cold sweats. They’ve been the words that spurred my nightmares. But they’ve always been the words that have driven me to fight. For Jack. For myself.
When I returned to Liberty, Jack asked me to start boxing with him. He was thirteen years old and could see it. I think he needed it for himself as much as me. I left him with my next-door neighbor, Donna, who saw something in me that she had seen in herself once upon a time. She took us in, made us her family. And she is the only person aside from Jack who knows what happened. To everyone else, Vince walked away and started a new family. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide the truth to cover for him so much as I didn’t want people to talk. I didn’t want any chance that word could get out to who I really am, only for him to find us.
The first day I walked into the gym I was beyond nervous. The thought of going to a place where men were learning how to hit, my son included, petrified me. I was so afraid that I would have flashbacks. But Jack was by my side the entire time. He said we needed to learn how to defend ourselves. I saw two men in a bout and almost immediately started having a panic attack. I quickly made my way toward the door, but Jack ran after me and stopped me. With tears in his eyes and his hands on my upper arms, the words that came out of his mouth helped me to finally understand why this was so important to him.
“We can’t leave now, Mom.”
“I can’t be here. I don’t want you learning to hit someone.” I point to the two men who were still going at it.
“I can’t not learn to, Mom.”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes are pleading as his voice cracks. “Mom. I’ll never forget what it looked like seeing Vince hit you. I’ll never forget how helpless I felt in that too.”
“Jack…”
“No, Mom.” His voice is now strong, as though he had dug deep for all the strength he needed to fight for what he wanted. He stands up straight, to his full height which is a few inches taller than I. “I will never again feel helpless. If I have to defend someone — you, me, whoever it may be — I’m going to be prepared. And so are you. You’re doing this, Mom. I hear you having nightmares in the night. I know you’re still scared of that piece of crap. Vince will not hurt you ever again.”
A Better Place Page 6