All of These Things

by De Mattea, Anna

  “Evening, mates.”

  Oh, I do love it when he says that.

  “But talk about hot... hoo-wee! Alec’s in the house,” Christopher howls and pretends to faint.

  “I think it’s bourbon time, folks.” Jay claps his hands and is about to scurry off to the bar, but Alec signals him back.

  “Bring us a bottle, mate. Caroline,” he says turning to me, “what would you like, love?”

  “I’ll try the bourbon.”

  “Alright. You’ll try some from mine, and we’ll see how you’re feeling. Bring us that bottle, Jason.”

  Jay signals thumbs up and dashes off, but Christopher’s still hanging off of Sofie.

  The sea air is pungent, even with the aromas floating amid the pub. Sofie and Alec mingle as the Atlantic becomes my diversion. The sky is lavish and bountiful, cluttered with stars so low I’m tempted to reach out and touch them.

  “You look hot.” Sofie appears at my side. “British guys look good on you.” She nudges me.

  I hold back a nervous laugh.

  “Alright,” she continues, “if you’re finally taking a plunge, then I’m not messing with your good time. I won’t tease you about lover boy anymore. The dress is cute.”

  My eyes skate down.

  “You don’t think it’s a little too short?”

  “No way! Besides, everything looks shorter on those legs. I like you in this boho-chic thing you have going on today.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Should we hug or something?”

  She raises a brow.

  “Don’t get all girly-girl on me just because you’re in a slip of a dress. I can throw you over right now,” Sofie says bumping her shoulder into mine.

  I grab onto her arm and hug it closely. “I’ll need to go to the outlets since I don’t have anything to wear for Alec’s exhibition.”

  “Sure. We can go tomorrow,”

  “Okay,” I answer and get ready to profess.

  “You were right, by the way. I am glad I came here,” I say meekly.

  “I know. But I want it in writing,” she says, fully aware from the look on my face that her wisecrack manages to amuse me. She takes a deep breath as her gaze wanders off to somewhere in the horizon. “There’s such a satisfaction with the world when you’re by the sea, Caroline. Can you remember the last time you felt so connected to life, just happy doing mundane things like making up a bed or washing dishes?”

  “No, no I can’t. Life is better here.” I release a shallow sigh. “I was just thrown by the idea today, Sof. I mean, I know it’s been on your mind, but living here…”

  “Part-time,” she intercedes.

  “Still,” I say, “I’m still serious about the points I made. They should be taken into account, but I don’t like not being able to see you whenever I need to. It freaked me out.”

  “I get it, and I’ll let you handle my logistics. But you have to promise me something, too.”

  I cringe. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t be afraid of change.”

  “How do you mean?” I ask, twisting around to face her head on.

  “Just let yourself go. Become enlightened. Be more receptive than you are and kinder to who you’re meant to be.”

  Her gaze shifts, fixing itself ahead. Sofie falls silent, but not from a lack of words I’m sure. A relaxed, wistful contemplation renders her speechless. I connect with her pensive state, lost in her sagacious words, and a voice merges with the sound of the surf.

  I draw in a long, meditative breath as the universe spoon feeds me a definite test.

  “Caroline,” Alec says, offering me a glass, “tell me what you think.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I bring the amber liquid to my mouth and squint as I weigh my opinion of it. A grimace delays any verbal response, and finally, I’m able to utter a verdict.

  “It’s strong.”

  “Let’s get you something fruitier then, shall we. Or wine. What do you prefer?”

  “No, really. I think I kind of like the bourbon.”

  “Ha!” Sofie chastises. “This from a girl who drinks a drop of rum in her Coke and acts like it’s straight liquor,” Sofie gibes, obviously listening in. “Make a woman out of her, Alec. Give her the whiskey.” She dissolves with laughter into Jason’s squeezing clasp.

  “I ordered some food, love, to help this go down. Don’t finish it until you’ve eaten.”

  “I kind of had a hefty lunch with Jay and Sofie.”

  “Still not enough,” he says, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. I try to look unruffled, but I’m probably doing a wretched job of it.

  “I have a boyfriend, Alec,” I blurt, half-somberly, half-alarmed.

  “And yet it doesn’t change the connection between us, does it?”

  His words come out like an illumination, but a miserable feeling of guilt looms nearby. My affection for Alec surpasses the scope of my self-made limitations, and I feel the truth of my attraction beating its way through. I deserve the whipping, because what kind of person does this make me?

  His hands clasp my shoulders, his stare fiery.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I mutter breathlessly.

  “I know.” His eyes don’t release mine. “There’s only one way to know what it is you need to say—to understand what you’re feeling. But you’re not ready for that.”

  I try looking courageous. “And what’s this way you talk of?”

  “If I kiss you.” His response is unexpected and intense. “If I kiss you, Caroline, what feels wrong or right will suddenly be obvious, and you’ll no longer be confused.”

  “You can’t kiss me,” I burst out, scared and panicked.

  “I won’t,” he says. “But not because you have a boyfriend, but for the selfish reason that if you decide I feel wrong, then I have nothing left.”

  A warm flash spreads through my veins, flushing my skin. I’m mortified by the glow of my senses as my self-loathing grows. But the ugly truth is I love the feeling of being so close to detonation. Everything is a chaotic disarray lately.

  Alec’s lips part slightly, misting a delectable trail, and I want it mixing with mine. I feel like I can combust as muscles clamp at the highpoint of my thighs, and I think everything’s on fire down there. This state is so new to me. I’m petrified, numb, and aroused at once.

  “Caroline,” he cuts in. “That’s enough now, love. We’re just having drinks. Okay?”

  Yes. It’s just a drink. Only, it’s not.

  I manage to form a resolve and come back to where I am. Sofie is brushing all over Jason, and I’m relieved she hasn’t snagged evidence of this interlude between Alec and me.

  “She’s good for you, you know,” says Alec, bypassing through my internal mayhem.

  “What?”

  “You and Sofie.” He’s changing the subject for us. “Not to say you aren’t good for Sofie, but you’re a little bit of this, and she’s a little bit of that. So it works. There’s harmony and balance in that.”

  It occurs to me how much he sounds like an artist now, and it’s one of the most perfect things I’ve ever heard.

  “We should join them,” I say, doing my part to reroute our inner turmoil. “And I need a lot more of this.” I raise the glass and swallow the last of the bourbon. “But due to my very advantageous concussion, I won’t be able to dance with you tonight.”

  I shudder. I don’t know why in the hell I’ve brought that up. Me plus alcohol makes for a nasty mix.

  “Oh, so now the concussion is a good thing, is it? Two can play that game.”

  “I’m milking it for all it’s worth. Heck, I’d bang my head again.”

  His face changes, becoming grim and ominous. It’s damn sexy.

  “That’s not even a little funny, Caroline.” He steps fo
rward, his nose drifting above mine, and there’s a light electrical touch of skin to skin.

  I inhale sharply, and I know he notices. A tension radiates from under my solar plexus, building a southward heat and pressure. My legs feel limp, and I have no choice but to stifle my sporadic breathing and the gasps that take flight. He remains stoic, and his body looks unaffected by the palpable lust, but his eyes say otherwise.

  He won’t touch me. I just know he won’t make the first move, but that alone increases my rush. I can’t be that girl—that two-timing girl. I won’t be such a person. I know better than that. I am better than that. Alec watches me struggle as my expression becomes increasingly agitated. He’s giving me time to wrap my head around the sensations from being so close to him—giving me control of the wheel. I’m in charge of whatever it is I want to happen next. Under his stare, my body’s tense, neither of us breaking away until he’s launched forward from a wallop to the back.

  “Who needs a refill?” Jay asks, barging in on our heady exchange, and I can’t decide if I want to thank or curse the universe for intervening.

  I rub at the tension in my shoulders and neck, kneading the nerves so they can unwind. Sheriff McBride forced me on early duty, too, today when he woke me up with the final account of his paperwork. After flying up in bed from the sound of my phone, I cowered at his voice. I think about how much Mom hates phones, so I text Mae, instead. My mother says the sudden ring makes her heart skip a beat, and door bells aren’t any better. These things, that are so entirely unexpected, go on to trigger a hostile mood from her for the rest of the day, sparking a new bout of agitation. A message from Ryan comes through.

 

  I have to say that it feels pretty damn good.

  The Redgraves never went more than six months without a lavish family vacation, and since he left his parents’ house, Ryan still manages a couple of his own trips, even if they are few and far between. His father’s a prominent broker at the Royal Bank, and his mother has her own optometry practice. They’re an impeccable brood, quite gracious and sophisticated, with an unadulterated appearance. I have no idea if I’ll ever completely fit into that equation, since my family will inevitably set off an imbalance. I realize I still don’t want to think about that, or the pending encounter of our parents. If it was just Dad, then I could reconcile with that, but my mother is quite another story. A text lights up my phone:

 

  I trap a breath and sigh his name as I free it.

  Alec.

  The smiley face has me grinning in turn, but under my fingertips, and in my grasp, is a magnifying quandary that’s slipping out on my hand: Ryan and Alec. I’ve painted my own sheet of deceit over all that’s good, safe, and sound for me. As much as I want to do right by Ryan, I’m also not ready to shake Alec’s hold on me. I quail, wondering if I’ll be done with him once it’s time for me to get home. It’s becoming tougher to fathom how I’ll obliterate Alec from my mind—wipe off knowing his touch and annihilate his impact. I tap on the screen.

 

  I’m marginally awestruck that he’s asking about my mother, since he has the tendency to say perfect things, and I’m more fascinated by the fact that I’m pretty relaxed and quick to talk about her.

  He answers:

  I type:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I blink, mouth agape. There’s a brief moment of self-rationalization as I scan my surroundings in the white bedroom. It’s dimmed to gold this morning while the blinds remain low and sunlight edges in. As Alec waits for my reply, my chest blooms, flooding with pleasure, and my usual loss of nerve fades into the background. I flush with anticipation. It’s disorienting to be so eager, and also against an invitation.

  I hurriedly rap on the screen:

  He answers instantly:

  A swim suit? I don’t think so, mate.

 

  I shudder from a double dose of angst and fear, contemplating Alec’s demand as my phone judders to Sandrine’s name. I’m rattled who to address first.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “I have one question for you. Did you ever like me?” she spits out, making my face grow hot.

  I flounder. “Wh-what?”

  “Did you ever like me?” Sandrine repeats. “I’m sure you heard me the first time, Caroline. Have. You. Ever. Liked. Me?”

  She scalds me, patronizing, and I’m completely overwrought—still thinking of how to shut Alec’s proposal down as I try to piece together what exactly has gotten into my father’s girlfriend.

  “Yes,” I say. “Of course. Why? What’s happened?” I swing out from bed and move toward the window. Pulling on the cord to raise the blind, I see the promise of another bright, warm day. It’s definitely perfect for bathing suits.

  Shit.

  “Yes or no!” she roars, and I retreat somewhat.

  “I said yes,” I tell her in a steely, cold voice.

  “I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you were on your father’s side, but I see now you’re just a pretty little, two-faced girl. You’ve never wanted me and your father to work out, have you, Princess?”

  After Sandrine slights my parents’ nickname for me, I’m more than ready to launch in.

  “Sandrine,” I start, “I think you better stop. You’re wrong about that. Now just tell me what’s happened.”

  “Or what? I’ll live to regret it?” she asks vehemently. “Add it to the list! I already regret ever setting eyes on your father, and I mean your stepfather—not the one that abandoned your mother because he was too smart to stay involved with that bitch.”

  I swallow, tears already staining and burning my cheeks. I twist from her antagonism, and my rage feels like it’s pushed me back against a wall. The fury is stifling.

  “I’ve never had anything against you. You’re devoted to my father, and that’s all that matters to me. And by the way, San-dreen,” I slur her name, matching her indignation, “there’s only one father, and you have no right to go there.”

  “Apparently, I have no rights at all. Nathaniel says it’s over, and so it has to be over. Just like that! How does a relationship go from being a team to a one player game?”

  WTF, I think. It’s over?

  Sandrine’s vicious tone has dropped a few degrees. It’s such a tender question. I can feel her disheartenment begin to envelope me. She’s sacrificing her good judgement for the will to do anything to change the circumstances. The thickness in my throat makes my eyes well.

  “Do you know how low and desperate and broken I feel?” she asks. “This man, who I’ve given my body and soul to, actually stopped to look at me, right as he was making love to me for the final time, and his tears dropped on my face. He told me it’s over—that he can’t
do this anymore. How am I supposed to feel? What does a woman say to that?”

  I’m mortified by the overload of information. The burden Sandrine has dumped on me is a little sickening, and more than quite a task to process. What can a woman say to that kind of disclosure? It’s humiliating. I would never want to be at the end of something like that but couldn’t imagine someone as kind and good as my father saying the words, either. He had to have been just as desperate and broken, and now I wonder exactly how much time he’s devoting to Mom while I’m away.

  Sofie jumps in front of me, scaring the living daylight out of me with a black scribbled message on a random menu. THIS IS NOT YOUR PROBLEM! She turns the paper around. MY MOM CALLED.

  So Aunt Mara knows, too. This must be making her absolutely berserk. I suppose I wasn’t the first one caught in Sandrine’s rampage, after all.

  “Sandrine, I am sorry, but, I don’t know what you expect me to do. You don’t deserve this from him. I mean that. You don’t. And I don’t have a clue to what’s brought this on,” I lie. “But I need to support my father, and that doesn’t mean I don’t feel badly for you, because I do. I honestly do, but this isn’t my problem to fix. It has nothing to do with me.”

  Sofie lunges at me, trapping me in an ecstatic embrace that almost drags me down.

  “You’re making me so proud right now,” she whispers heartily.

  I escape her enclosure.

  “Sandrine,” I continue, “we should have worked harder at becoming friends, and I’ll be first to say that hesitation and ambiguity got in the way more than we knew. I apologize for my part in that.”

  I hear soft sniffles and cries, and it pains me to know she’s alone. I wonder if she’s in their apartment or at her sister’s house or, I don’t know, with her sons. She really doesn’t deserve to be alone. Now I speculate about my father’s whereabouts, especially because it didn’t sound like he was anywhere near Mom when I had that quick word with Angel Mae earlier.

  I groan, thinking that this morning is definitely one for the records.

  Immediately after concluding with Sandrine, I text Dad.