At least, that’s the plan…
I glimpse in her direction. Now, she’s bent over with her hands on her knees, chortling and jerking her luscious hips back and forth. She’s aiming to be silly but she has no idea how sexy I find her. I push my computer aside, taking a break from my work to enjoy her.
Then in a flash, her expression changes. Her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs in a wide ‘O’.
I leap out of my chair. “Grace, what is it?” My hand is on her back and I help her stand upright.
She looks down at her feet and then her eyes jerk up to my face before diving back to the floor. A clear liquid slicks her legs, pooling around her thick, stripped socks. “My water just broke…”
I step into my shoes, one at a time. My ribcage is tight enough to explode. Nostalgia continues to batter my senses, making me relive events that happened in this room months, or even years, ago. And not all of it is good.
“God! Would you get out of your damn head for a minute, Grace? Would you stop overanalyzing everything?” I throw up my hands in frustration as I pace the living room floor. I’m so tired of arguing over every single little thing.
Her face is red, her chest puffed out, her eyes rimmed with tears that refuse to spill down her cheeks. “You really don’t think this is important, do you?” Her voice trembles with anger.
“You complain about everything. I just don’t know when what you’re whining about is actually a legitimate concern. I’ve lost track.” I spit the words out at her with vile contempt.
“You are unbelievable!” she yells. “You arrogant, selfish, self-centered son of a –”
My eyebrow jerks up. “Watch it now, Angel!” I warn.
She stalks off toward the kitchen, growling under her breath. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. You don’t give a fuck and I can’t make you…”
I look past the curtains to the snow twirling to the white-blanketed ground. I’m too tired for this. It’s nearly two in the morning and I spent thirteen hours at the office today. I want to grab something to eat and then catch a few hours of sleep. So tired of this bickering.
“You’re trying to drive me crazy. You want me to live inside your sad, little doom and gloom world with you. That’s what you’re doing.”
She spins on her heel and charges back into my space, so much rage beaming off this tiny woman. “Y’know what? You don’t want to live in my crazy, little doom and gloom world? Then get out!”
The air stills and neither of us say a word. We’re both shocked by what she just said. All of a sudden, the blinking lights on the Christmas tree are disorienting. The ho-ho-ho of the Santa Claus ornament on the fireplace seems to be mocking me. Is she really telling me to leave?
“Get out,” she repeats again. This time, the glint in her eye tells me she knows exactly what she’s saying. She marches over to the couch and grabs my coat from the cushion where I’d dropped it when I stepped into the house ten minutes ago. “Leave, Daniel! Go!”
My brain tells me to take a deep breath. Calm her down. Tell her to go to bed. Make myself comfortable on the couch for the night. We can talk about this in the morning. When we’ve both calmed down.
But I won’t beg. Hell no! My pride takes over from logic. I snatch the coat out of her hand.
I see the fractures deepen, I see her crumble to pieces as she realizes that I’m actually going to leave.
But that doesn’t stop me from walking out the door.
Standing in that same spot nine months later, I swallow hard. I’m such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have left that night. We could have worked it out. I had a choice and I chose wrong.
I reach for the door handle and step out into the dark, windy night. The cold air hits my face and man, I wish I could go back and change the decision I made that night nine months ago.
The phone in my pocket buzzes again. More text messages from Prescott, I’m sure.
I take one glance back at the split-level, two-story colonial. This place is no longer my home.
My name is on the mortgage but my key no longer fits in the lock, my shoes no longer sit by the door.
My wife no longer loves me.
Chapter 13
Grace
The doorbell rings, startling me and I drop my spatula to the floor as vanilla custard splatters all around.
I survey the mess. Thick cream rolls down the cabinet doors, pooling on the ceramic tiles. I didn’t escape unscathed, either. The front of my apron is splotched by the egg mixture. “Great!”
Tearing off my smock, I hit pause on my recording and hurry toward the door. When I swing it open, Sammie is standing there with a car seat in one hand and a bouquet of limp orchids in the other.
"Hey..." I say sceptically as my eyes roam over her. She looks just as sleep-deprived as I do.
"Hey." She pushes past me, sliding out of her Uggs and stomping off toward the kitchen.
With a knot in my stomach, I follow after her. "Everything okay?" I haven’t seen her since my disastrous visit to her post-partum bedside. And I’m more than a little surprised to see her here.
But there are no bedpans in sight so I’ll take that as a positive sign.
Over her shoulder, she gives me a manic, frazzled smile. "Yeah. Everything's okay. Why wouldn't everything be okay?" She cranes her neck to peek into the kitchen. “God – it smells good in here…”
"Well, it's kind of early for a visit," I say, choosing my words very carefully. I remember just how emotionally unhinged I was after I gave birth to Sebastian. Although my circumstances were much darker than Sammie's, I can only assume that she isn't quite back to herself just yet.
She settles the baby onto the table and pulls open a cabinet door. "We didn't wake you, did we?" she asks as she grabs a glass vase and fills it with water. “These are for you, by the way.” She tips her head at the bouquet.
“Thank you. And no, you didn’t wake me. Not at all. Been up since 3:30 this morning. Baking." I motion toward the messy kitchen.
She looks confused. "What? Is there a bake sale going on at the community center or something?” She sets the vase on the counter and leans over the trays of baked goods, practically drooling.
I grab her a plate and put a scone down in the middle. Then, I ladle some custard over the top. I place it in front of her as she drops into a chair, collapsing onto the wooden frame. “No bake sale,” I say as I hover over Hannah’s car seat admiring the sleeping angel. “It’s just how I’m…coping…”
She gives a little nod and it’s obvious that she feels the tension in the air. I’m divorcing her brother. Of course things are awkward between us.
"So what brings you by?" I ask, trying to keep my tone friendly and not suspicious.
She laughs quietly, turning her eyes toward her daughter. "My little diva only falls asleep when she's being ushered around in her Prius." She pulls her fingers through her tangled brown hair.
"Sebastian went through that phase. He would only fall asleep in the car. I was like, ‘Little boy, do you even know the cost of gas? You'd better stop it now!’" My lips curl up as I reminisce.
"I know, right! These little joyrides are expensive."
We share a not-quite-comfortable laugh.
“But motherhood is a joy, otherwise,” she tells me. “The first few sleepless nights were intense, but now, I’m settling into my role and I like it.” Her smile lights up her dark eyes.
An uncomfortable feeling whirrs in my gut as I think back to my first days as a mother. That was a difficult time for me. The most difficult time of my life. My hand smooths over my tummy when I think of it. I push the feeling away and give Sammie a smile as we continue to tiptoe around the obvious topic that neither of us seems ready to broach. "And how's Keeland, the baby whisperer? How’s he holding up?"
She scoffs. "He's passed out after last night's Asphalt-Poop Debacle. And by the way, why didn’t you tell me that baby’s first poop looks like tar squeezed out of a toothpaste tube? I almost called 9-
1-1 the first time Hannah crapped her diaper!"
I laugh and make a sympathetic face. "Oh, she's still in the meconium stage. So sorry." Meconium is arguably the most disgusting-looking substance to come out of the human body.
Sammie’s giggles fade away. "In all seriousness, I'm here to check up on you, Gracie. And to apologize. For being a dick the other day. I was just pissed about my brother getting served divorce papers on live TV."
I cringe hard. "I didn't mean for that to happen.”
"Yeah. Your sisters told me."
I lift a brow in surprise. I don't need Faith and Lily fighting my battles but I know they will anyway. “I hope they were nice about it,” I say worriedly.
She laughs hard. “They were persistent. Convincing. Let’s leave it at that.”
I apologize softly under my breath. My sisters are a lot alike. Both wild and outgoing. They speak their minds unapologetically. I'm the reserved one. The repressed one. The one who thinks twice before opening her mouth. I kind of feel bad for Sammie because I know that Faith and Lily probably went in hard on her.
Her face goes serious. “Look – I just want you to know that I really hope you and Daniel work this out. I want you two to get back together. I know you love each other.”
“It’s not that simple, Sammie.”
“I’ve seen you two together. I remember how you were. You had this amazing chemistry that everyone in the room could feel. I can’t bring myself to believe that it’s over.”
I exhale. “It is…”
Her eyes narrow in on me. “Wait – Did my brother cheat on you? Because if he did, I swear to god –”
I shake my head sadly. “Nothing like that, Sam. Neither of us cheated. Things just got…complicated. After Sebastian’s birth.”
“I don’t get it. Bringing Hannah into the world brought me and Keeland closer, it made us stronger…”
“You guys are lucky. Doesn’t always work like that.”
She pushes a heavy sigh. “Well, if things don’t work out with you two, I just want you to know that I still love you. You’re still one of my girls and I’m sorry for being a bitch the other day at the hospital.”
“You were a bitch,” I laugh. “But I forgive you.”
We both break down giggling. Out of nowhere, Hannah’s shrill cry pierces through the air.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Sammie says as she hoists up the car seat and lugs it toward the front door. “Back in the car! Back in the car!”
“Shoot! I was just about to offer you some tea.” I lean over the car seat and stroke Hannah’s precious little cheek. “So adorable. She has Keeland’s eyes, doesn’t she?”
Sammie looks the slightest bit resentful. “I’d love some tea but we’ve got to move.” Just then, Sebastian’s whining floats down the stairs and into the kitchen. My sister-in-law pauses. “Mr. Pooh is waking up…I have an idea. Let’s all drive down to Herbivore and meet up with Isla.”
“Great idea. Can you call Faith and Lily and see if they can come too? I’m gonna go change my clothes and get Sebastian ready.”
“Perfect. I’ll breastfeed Hannah while you go do that.” She calls after me as I run up the stairs. “Hey, Grace do you mind if I borrow a shirt? I just realized that I’m wearing a pajama top I put on two days ago.”
I laugh as I go. “Welcome to motherhood, Sam!”
Ten minutes later, we’re in Sammie’s little Prius with Hannah and Sebastian strapped into the back seat, both snoozing contentedly. We’ve packed up baked treats for the girls. I tell her about my new cooking channel and Sammie, who is a certified internal auditor, asks me pointed questions about my monetization strategy and financial projections, to which I reply, “Girl – calm down. I started the thing a week ago!” Chatting and laughing, it feels good to have my friend back.
When we get to Herbivore, the health food café owned by Isla’s fiancé, Reuben, Lily waves us over to the table where they’re sitting.
“Hello, beautiful ladies!” Isla says as she and Faith pull extra chairs to the table. Thankfully, they’ve already ordered hot chocolates for Sammie and me.
We exchange hugs and everyone takes a turn cooing at the sleeping newborn and giving Sebastian snuggles. I set out a few slices of my home baked coffee cake for the girls and put a container of finger foods on the highchair my son is sitting in.
“You don’t mind that I brought treats, do you?” I ask Isla. “I don’t want to interfere with your business.” I hand her a slice of cake.
She waves me off. “Not at all. I’m the boss – or the boss’s fiancée, at least. I get to bend the rules every now and again.”
Sammie pshts. “Just don’t let Reuben find out. Or she’ll be bent over his knee.”
Isla takes a dainty bite of her cake. “Is that such a bad thing?”
My sisters and I laugh.
“Oh my gosh, Grace!” Isla groans. “You made this?” I nod. “It’s amazing!” She goes at it again, taking a heartier bite this time.
Sammie echoes her groan. “It really is.”
“You should sell this recipe,” Isla muses as she reaches for another slice.
Lily chimes in. “Wait ‘til you taste her chocolate chip cookies. They will melt your brain cells.” She gives me a wink.
“Did you know she started a YouTube cooking channel?” Sammie asks the girls. “She just told me this morning. Isn’t that exciting?”
Now, Isla wants all the details. I answer all of her questions about my newfound hobby and my sisters chirp in, telling her how amazing all my recipes are. I’m blushing about all the kind things they have to say.
I feel a presence over my shoulder and all the girls look up in that direction as a tall, skinny (fake) blonde comes around the table. “Samantha? Samantha Trotten?” she says in a pretentious tone.
Sammie eyes her up and down. “Yes?”
“It’s me – Brittany Delaney!” Her hand falls to her chest as she smiles wide.
Lily’s mouth falls open and a loud gasping sound pours out. She kicks me under the table. I flinch and glare at her. What the hell, Lil!
Meanwhile, Sammie’s expression goes blank as she tries to recall who this person is. A split-second later, her face twists sourly. Isla’s expression does the same. “Oh, Brittany Delaney…” she says, failing horribly in her attempt to sound enthused.
The woman doesn’t seem to notice. She leans over with her hands on Sammie’s shoulders and deposits a graceful kiss on each of her cheeks.
Sammie shrugs her off. “Just had a baby. Trying to avoid germs.” The way my sister-in-law says the words, it’s obvious that her comment was meant as a little jab. Pretty juvenile but kind of funny.
“You had a baby? Oh, that’s wonderful.” Brittany throws a haughty glance at the car seat and turns up her nose. Something tells me that she isn’t so into kids. “So, how is Daniel?”
My gaze darts up to her face when I hear her say my husband’s name.
My sister-in-law sneers. Then, she nudges her head in my direction. “Why don’t you ask his wife?”
With a perfectly arched brow, Brittany’s gaze falls on me. She scans me from head to toe. No, literally – she starts at my face and then takes a step back to catch a look at my beat-up running shoes.
I look like shit. I probably still have cake batter in my hair and I haven’t taken a shower since I fried that codfish this morning so I probably don’t smell great, either. I’m definitely not dressed to compete with this Barbie doll who so obviously has a fond interest in my husband.
My estranged husband. My soon-to-be-ex husband. Fantastic!
“Well, Danny sure likes his women…down-to-earth.” She gives me a tight smile.
Sammie is definitely ready for this little chitchat to be over. “So, it was great seeing you,” she says curtly and turns back toward our table. “Take care.” She waves flippantly over her shoulder.
Brittany is still glaring at me. “Same here, Samantha. Tell your brother that I look forward t
o catching up with him.” Without more, she spins on her heels and marches over to the other side of the coffee shop.
I lean over the table. “Um, excuse me. Does anybody care to tell me who the hell that was?”
“That was Brittany Delaney!” Lily whisper-shouts.
“I heard that part,” I say becoming impatient, “but why was everyone acting so weird?”
“She’s Jakob’s ex-girlfriend.” Lily looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “She got pregnant while they were dating and instead of giving Jakob the chance to do a paternity test, she gave the child up for adoption. He still has no idea if the child is his…Only a vile bitch does something like that.”
Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8) Page 7