When We Touch

by Tia Louise

  Pulling out my baking pans, I run down my new list of cake orders from the weekend. Most of them are simple two-tiered rounds, but a few want piping and more elaborate decorations.

  Not a single one is a penis.

  “Well, hallelujah,” I say with a laugh.

  “The package is delivered!” The little bell over the door dings, and my best friend enters with a flourish. “I swear, they are such assholes about that preschool carline.”

  “Enter from the left,” I say, without looking up from my book of decorator tips.

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” she complains, crossing to where I stand. “Entering from the left means you have to pass the school and then loop back around. It would make more sense to enter from the right…” She looks at me. “Right turn? Get it?”

  My eyes flicker up to hers then, and I just give her a look. “You’re fighting years of preschool traffic patterns. That flow was established when we were kids.”

  “Doing something the way it’s always been done is no excuse to keep doing something wrong.”

  Blinking fast, I try to sort out what the hell she just said. “Your logic is dizzying.” I go to the wall of ingredients. “Thanks for taking her in.”

  The table makes a squeak when she hops on it. “Now! I’ve got gossip. Bucky Pepper has reappeared!”

  “What!” I almost drop the big bowl holding the flour, baking soda, and vanilla extract I’m cradling as I climb down. “What happened to him?”

  “Chad said he ran because he feared for his life.”

  “He’d better fear for his life,” I grouse, placing the ingredients out on the table. “If Jackson gets a hold of him… Wait. Does this mean you’re talking to Chad?”

  “I always talk to Chad.” She looks down at her nails, and I shake my head.

  “You do not. You push him away, and Chad is smoking hot. You need to get over yourself and nail his ass.”

  Red velvet lips part. “Such language! What would Marjorie say?”

  “I don’t give a shit.” I measure out four scoops of flour for the banana sponges. “What else did Chad say about Stinky Pepper?”

  “He said if you want to press charges, let him know.” She leans forward to catch my eye. “You never told me the whole story. It was you and Bucky, then Wham! You and Jackson. Not that I’m complaining…”

  I pause and glance at the ceiling. “It was strange… and very creepy. He didn’t exactly attack me… He was very pushy and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Returning to my bakes, a little flush of warmth hits me when I remember Jackson rushing in to save me. “Jackson pretty much threw him out the door.”

  “Holy shit!” Tabby hops off the table, and my water spills.

  “Tabs!” I cry.

  “What the hell is this?” She holds up the two-bodied squirrel I’d tossed in the trash. Tilting it side to side, she turns it around in her hands. “Is it a Siamese twin?”

  Lowering the beater into the bowl, I switch on my mixer. “That’s what I thought! One set of feet, but two torsos…”

  We look at each other, noses curled. Tabby breaks first.

  “You are not throwing this away.” She marches over to the corner and climbs a stool, placing the monstrosity on a ledge above the windows.

  “Tabby, take that down. It clashes with my vibe.”

  “It’s a freak of nature!”

  “Bucky is a freak of nature.” I go to the fridge and pull out my natural peanut butter and a brick of cream cheese.

  “Oh!” She hops down and runs to where I’m working. “You’re making the banana cake with peanut butter cream cheese frosting!”

  Looking at the list, I nod. “The Schlotskys didn’t specify. They just said something beachy. Bananas are beachy, right?”

  “Sure!” She picks up the list of orders, but her eyes wander to me. “So… you and Jackson?”

  My eyes are fixed on the glass bowl where I’m blending the frosting, but I can’t stop my smile. She squeals, and a laugh bursts through my lips. I feel my cheeks getting hot and my eyes water.

  “Oh, crap, you’re really back together.” Her voice is quiet, almost reverent. “You’re crying.”

  “I am not!” Using the back of my hand, I touch my eyes. “I’m… happy.”

  “Ember!” She dives forward, hugging me so hard the bowl tips. “I knew it would be this way. I’m so glad I gave him your number!”

  Lifting my arms, I shrug her off me. “Yeah, about that…” I narrow my eyes and pretend to be angry.

  “Are you mad? But it all worked out!”

  Shaking my head, I look down at the mixture. “I’m not mad.” I inhale a deep breath and just let it out. “He moved us into the cottage—he said he wants us home with him.” Tabby swoons. “He says he loves me… he says he loves Coco. He made this whole sea-themed room for her they’re calling Atlantia, which is silly, but she’s completely into it. Yesterday afternoon we went to the beach, and we spent the day together just like…” I hesitate to say it loud, but the words light up the front of my mind like a neon sign.

  Just like a family.

  “Oh!” My best friend’s eyes sparkle. “I love Jackson, too.”

  “My momma is pissed,” I announce, bringing us back to reality. “He’s out of town for the week wrapping up whatever he left in the city…”

  “But you’re together!” Her head rests on her hand, a dreamy look in her eye. “All that shit’ll sort itself out.” She presses her lips into a smile and her eyes roam around my face.

  “What?”

  “You look like you used to look… Happy.”

  “I am happy… And I’m happy to be working! Now help me sort these orders.”

  * * *

  I choose my signature spice cake with apple butter filling and cinnamon buttercream frosting for another unspecified order. One simply says “dark chocolate.” Tabby notes it’s for an anniversary, so I make my dark chocolate cake with purple passion fruit curd and chocolate mirror frosting with little peaks of salted chocolate ganache. My best friend holds her heart and falls against the counter in ecstasy. I only laugh and keep going.

  By afternoon I’ve plotted out all the orders for the week. Tabby returns with bags from André’s. “I had the most amazing idea!” she announces, holding up the two bags. “You and André—joint restaurant owners!”

  “What did you bring me?” I drop the plastic piping bag of chocolate ganache on the table. “I’m starving.”

  “He sent you his signature chicken salad with purple grapes, hand-pulled rotisserie chicken, and walnuts.”

  “Ahh! He knows me so well.” I hold out my grabby hands.

  “I stuck with the grilled turkey, Brie, and apple butter.”

  My nose wrinkles and she rolls her eyes. “You seem so sophisticated with the cake flavors you invent, yet you can’t appreciate turkey, Brie, and apple butter?”

  “Not a fan of the Brie.” I quickly unwrap my late lunch. “It’s too rich.”

  “Wrong,” she gripes.

  We each take a bite and emit our own groans of delight. Sweet grapes gentle the smoky chicken, and the walnuts cut the tang perfectly, keeping it all from being too overwhelming.

  “André is a savory genius,” I say.

  The texture is perfect, with just the right amount of crunch. Bits of celery add a zing of freshness.

  “Oh no!” I’m out of my chair the second my eyes hit the clock. “I’m going to be late getting Coco!”

  Running to the door, Tabby calls behind me. “I’ll deliver these three cakes and head home. See you tomorrow?”

  “Sure—I can’t believe how fast this day went!”

  I’m out the door and on Dixie standing in the pedals and pushing hard. Coco’s teacher Miss Pat gives me the stink-eye whenever I’m late, and even though it’s just a look, I always feel terrible.

  A giggle bubbles in my stomach when I think about the day. I was so swamped with new business, I lost track of time. New business!
The words make me smile so hard. They mean success and potential and my dream coming true. I’ve got it all—my baby, my man… And I was too busy to miss Jackson!

  At school I hastily shove my front tire in the bike rack, and race up the stairs. I’m greeted by the usual preschool scents—paste, cardboard, and play-dough, with a backdrop of Lysol.

  Up ahead I see Miss Pat stepping out her door. The light is off, and her face is neutral. I frown when I see her slipping the key in the lock.

  “Pat?” I jog to where she stands, my heart beating faster. “Hey! I’m here. Where’s Coco?”

  “Oh!” She clutches her chest. “Emberly, you startled me.”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  She does a little laugh. “You must’ve had a miscommunication. Your mother picked up Coco half an hour ago!”

  “My…” A fist tightens in my chest, and I turn on my heel. “Thanks, Pat!”

  I’m running for the door, hopping down the stairs, and pulling Dixie out of the bike rack in a blur. It didn’t even occur to me to update the pickup list at Coco’s school. Like an idiot, I thought my wishes would be honored. Anger fuels my speed, and I stand in the pedals, pushing hard. She won’t do this. I won’t be ignored.

  Pushing harder, I take the left away from our small business district into the old, familiar neighborhood where I grew up. It’s all the same with the low-hanging branches and shadows falling across narrow roads. The nights here are so dark.

  As I get closer to my mother’s house, I see something I don’t recognize. A state trooper vehicle is parked in the front, and panic seizes my limbs. The front tire of my bike wobbles, and I jump off, letting it fall to the sidewalk as I run the rest of the way.

  Something’s wrong.

  My hand is on the gate, and I’m flushed with panic. The last time I remember seeing a state trooper vehicle was the day my life changed…

  The day my father died.

  Minnie…

  “Momma?” The door is locked, and I start beating on it with my fist. “Momma!” My voice is breaking, tears are in my eyes, and I’m shaking with fear.

  I’m about to scream again when I see a dark shadow approaching through the lace curtain. The door opens, and I push to go through it, but a strong arm stops me. The door is held in place against me.

  “Miss Warren, I’m sorry but you’re not allowed in the house.”

  “What?” I’m having trouble catching my breath. “This is my house. Where is my daughter? Is she okay? Where is Coco?”

  “Your daughter is upstairs with your mother—”

  Red floods my vision. “Momma!” I shout, pushing against the large officer. “Momma!”

  “Miss,” the man grunts, holding me back. “If you continue with this, I’ll have to arrest you.”

  “Arrest me?!” I’m so angry, I’m shaking. “What is happening here? I want my daughter. Let me go!”

  Tears drop onto my cheeks as I continue to struggle. The man is big as a house and equally strong.

  “Your daughter is fine. She’s not hurt.”

  “Momma!” I yell again, gripping the doorjamb for leverage.

  A little voice from above pierces my heart. “Mommy!”

  “Coco!” I scream as a new surge of tears coats my cheeks. “Coco! Mommy’s here!”

  “Mommy!” I hear her little voice again, and it rips my heart in two.

  “Let me go,” I struggle. “Please!”

  “Stop this at once!” The rapid clatter of heels on wood accompanies my mother down the stairs to the door. “Emberly Rose! Stop!”

  “Give me Coco, Momma!” It’s more of a snarl.

  “Calm yourself, Emberly.” Her eyes are blazing. “Colette’s father has asked me to keep her here with me. He has an emergency court order placing her in protective custody with me until he’s able to come to Oceanside.”

  “Her father…” My body goes limp as the air leaves my lungs. “Brandon? Why would Brandon—”

  “I told you yesterday I will not allow Colette to be subjected to your lifestyle—”

  “My lifestyle! What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “She is being kept here for her safety. You are not allowed to see her at this time.”

  I’m shaking hard, and my emotions are so tied up, I feel like I’m going to be sick. “Do not do this, Momma. Do not—”

  “I only thought you were living in sin. I had no idea the situation was so dire.”

  “What are you talking about? Coco is not in danger. She is perfectly safe with me. Jackson loves her. We’re going to be a family.”

  She leans closer. “That will never happen.” Stepping back, she waves to the trooper. “Please remove her from the premises.”

  “Momma!” I shout, jumping up as the man tries to drag me out. “Do not do this!”

  “Mommy!” Coco’s little voice echoes from above. “I’m upstairs, Mommy!”

  My heart breaks as the door slams in my face. I stare at the painted wood, shaking and crying. All the questions flooding my mind…

  The situation is dire?

  Brandon is coming?

  Where is my phone…

  Twenty-One

  Jack

  “You didn’t answer your phone…” Ember is curled in a ball in the center of her bed sobbing when I find her in her apartment. “I drove as fast as I could. I went to the cottage—”

  “Jackson, help me…” She sits up, reaching out her slim hand.

  I can’t bear seeing her cry. I drop my keys, everything at the door and climb to the center of her bed. She’s on my lap in a sweep, holding the lapels of my blazer, burying her face in my shirt.

  My stomach is in knots, and I’m seriously panicking. “Is Coco okay?”

  She nods against my chest. “I think so. Momma has her… She won’t let me see her! Oh, God, Jackson.”

  Holding her on my lap, my arms are around her. “Shh… now. I’m here. I’ll fix this.”

  “She has this strange cop at the house, and he wouldn’t let me in… ” Ember’s voice goes high. “Coco was upstairs calling me, and he wouldn’t let me in!”

  She covers her face with her hands, and my insides twist. Rocking her in my arms, I smooth my hand down the back of her head. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  A sniff, and she lifts her chin. “I went to pick her up from school, and her teacher said Momma had already picked her up. So I went to the house. She kept saying it was for Coco’s safety… she said the situation was dire. I don’t even know what that means! She’s taking her away from me…”

  Her whole body shakes, and I hold her tighter. “Listen to me,” I say gently. “Your momma might have power here in Oceanside Village, but you are Coco’s mother. She can’t take her away from you without proof of some sort of imminent threat.” Another tremble moves through her. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “She said it was because we were living together.”

  “Impossible.” My mind is racing through all the potential solutions. “Judges don’t take children from their mothers over living arrangements. Unmarried people live together all the time and raise children.”

  “She said Brandon got a court order placing Coco in her custody…” Her voice is small, and my brow tightens.

  “Brandon is the father?”

  “Yes.” She nods against my chest again.

  I’m quiet a moment, thinking of who I know in family law. She shudders with another sob, and I hug her tighter. “Okay, but you’re still the only parent Coco has ever known. Judges care about that. Brandon forfeited his custodial rights years ago.”

  “I said we were going to be a family, and she said that would never happen.” She buries her face in my chest. “Oh, Jackson—she can’t do this to us again.”

  My fingers thread in the back of her hair. “Hush now, she’s not doing anything to us. I told you I’m going to fix this. I am.” The panic of Coco being hurt or worse has subsided and anger is driving me now. “I want to se
e that order.”

  I’m just pulling out my phone when the door bursts open and Tabby runs in followed by Chad Tucker.

  “Sorry I was gone longer than I expected.” Tabby’s voice is sharp with the same anger flooding my chest. “Jackson! Thank God.”

  I give Ember another hug, speaking right at her ear. “Sit tight. I’m going to see what I can find out.” Her small hands tighten on my shoulder blades, and I hate letting her go, even to make a phone call. “Tabby’s here. I won’t be far.”

  I give her best friend a nod and slip out of Ember’s arms. I immediately hate the cool absence of her body sheltered by mine, but I’m determined to get Coco back with her mother tonight.

  Chad meets me as I go to the balcony. “I talked to the trooper. He said it’s a judge Anniston who signed the order.”

  “I don’t know him, but I’m not familiar with all the judges in this area.”

  “I had no idea this was happening.” His voice is laced with frustration. “I would never have let this happen.”

  “There’s not much you could have done. I’m going to see if I can find another judge to issue a temporary restraining order. Worst case, Marjorie can’t hold her longer than seventy-two hours without just cause.”

  “This is bullshit.” Chad’s fists flex, and I like this guy.

  “I agree.” I’m scrolling through my contacts, looking for a number.

  We’re standing on the balcony when I hear the voices rising inside. “How dare you come here?” Ember shouts, and I hop back into her apartment.

  Her mother stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips. I’m frozen in place when her eyes lock on me like lasers.

  “I see you’re back,” she says in a low tone.

  “I see you’re up to your same old tricks.” My voice is equally low and furious.

  She shakes her head and dares to laugh. “You can’t make me the bad guy in this scenario, Jack Lockwood. I called my detective the night you came back. Phillip is very good at his job.”