by Denise Wells
This cannot be happening. He’s here with Stacy. And I’m over him. I’m having lunch with him tomorrow to reiterate just that. Just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean anything.
Stacy turns to give me a look that most definitely says that they do not have plenty of food if said food is feeding me and my friends. So I hold up my popcorn in response to his offer and smile. He shrugs one shoulder as if to say. ‘next time then.’ I try to stay focused on the movie, but I find myself completely tuned in to the Brad and Stacy show instead. She’s sitting very primly, perched upon her pillow with her legs folded and off to the side. I don’t think she’s touched a thing on her plate; she just continues to drink Diet Coke from a can with a straw. Someone should really warn her about the dangers of aspartame.
Brad’s lying on his side, holding himself up on one elbow and eating with the other hand. His shirt stretches across his biceps and back, showing the movement of the muscles each time he reaches for something or brings his fork to his mouth. I remember what it was like to run my hands over those muscles and dig my nails into that back. God, why do I keep forgetting how fucking good looking he is?
“Quit drooling,” Lexie leans over to whisper in my ear.
I glare back at her. “I’m not!”
She gives me that look that tells me she doesn’t believe me, but that it’s okay. I hold up my now empty bottle and look at her pointedly, she responds with some crazy acrobatic move that has her half on and half off the barrel, but a bottle magically materializes when she sits back up. She takes a big chug before she hands it to me. I give her a thumbs up in return. I so very much appreciate that not only is she not angry with me for disrespecting her wine by chugging from the bottle, but she’s joining me in doing so. I love that girl!
I’m mid-chug when Brad’s pager goes off.
“Ha! I knew it!”
Everyone turns around to see who’s talking and what the noise is.
Ooops, that was my outside voice!
He whispers an apology at the same time that I attempt to save face by loudly announcing, “It’s okay, he’s a hunky fireman, off to put out fires and save lives.”
Well, at least now all the attention is on me instead of Brad. He leans over to whisper something in Stacy’s ear then gives her a kiss on the cheek. A chaste kiss I notice, feeling triumphant.
Brad gives me a look with a furrowed brow and cocked head. I shrug and smile, an attempt at an apology, then close my eyes and tap my heels together three times and whisper, “There’s no place like home,” to try and return there.
When I open my eyes, I’m still sitting on my barrel, Brad is gone, and everyone’s attention is back on the movie. At least this way I’ll only have to deal with Stacy when the movie is over and not the emotional steamroller that is Brad and Stacy on a cozy picnic date five feet in front of me. I hand the bottle back to Lexie and happily resume shoveling popcorn in my mouth.
My phone buzzes, I pull it out of my pocket and see that it’s Bauer.
“Hang on,” I tell him softly. Then I get off the barrel and head out of the room so I can talk without disturbing anyone watching the movie.
“Whassup?” I ask, once I’m in the tasting room.
“Are you drunk?” he asks.
“Pfft. No. But I’m working on it. Wanna join us?”
“Some of us work for a living.”
“I work—“
“Save it. He returned Madison Taylor, she’s in the hospital. It’s looking like the same MO. But he’s got a third girl, Makayla Jones. Got her with the puppy at the park routine if you can fucking believe it. I gotta go. Call me when you sober up.”
And then he hangs up on me. I try to call him back, but he sends me to voicemail, all three times. I try googling Madison Taylor returned on my phone, but nothing pops up. Then I try Makayla Jones kidnapped, and strike out again. I give Bauer one last chance to answer his phone when I call. Three strikes and I’m out.
This isn’t even my job.
Or my concern.
Or my problem.
I go back to my seat in the barrel room, share more wine and popcorn with Lexie, finish watching one of my favorite movies and shoot death glares at the back of Stacy’s head.
Alex and Remi give me a ride home after the movie, I make Remi ride in the backseat with me so that I feel better about my third wheel status. She wastes no time in grilling me about Brad. “So, what was up with you and the Sexy Ex?”
“What do you mean? Nothing was up.”
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, you were freaked the fuck out when he walked in. Then you couldn’t take your eyes off him all night. Then you announced to the entire barrel room that he’s hunky.”
I sigh a great big heavy ‘I regret everything I’ve done over the past three hours’ kind of sigh. “Yeah, that didn’t go down exactly the way I was hoping it would.”
“It’s okay to still be hung up on him, you know.”
“I’m not, though. That’s just it. Or at least I don’t think I am. But the other day when I was fantasizing about fucking Bauer, Brad popped into my head and now I can’t stop thinking about him.”
She starts choking and laughing at the same time. “You were fantasizing about fucking Chance Bauer??!!”
“Yes. Don’t judge me.”
“I won’t judge you, but I will start to doubt your taste in men.”
“Says the girl who dry humped him in front of an entire rugby party,” I whisper harshly.
“Touché,” she whispers back.
Alex clears his throat loudly. “Uh, ladies, just a reminder that I am in the car.”
“Sorry, Alex!” I say.
Remi’s mouth drops open in shock. She looks at me accusingly.
I continue, at a lower voice, “I invited Brad to lunch so I can remind him that it’s never going to work between us, then he can move on and marry Stacy and I can move on and get cancer again and die or something.”
“I gotta say Kat, I’m kind of amazed you haven’t done that yet.”
“What? Died or talked to Brad?”
She rolls her eyes at me.
I continue, “It’s not exactly easy to crush someone’s hopes you know. Again. Deliberately. And again.”
“Are you talking about your hopes, or Brad’s?”
I give her a dirty look. “I’m serious, this won’t be fun.”
She reaches out and squeezes my hand, a sad smile on her face. “I’m sorry sweetie. I know it’s got to be hard on you.”
I give her a half smile back.
Alex pulls up in my driveway, I thank them for the ride and give Remi a hug and kiss. Then, on impulse, I lean over the front seat and give Alex a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve heard me talk about sexy ex and fantasizing about a cop I’m working with. I feel as though we are close enough for cheek kisses now.”
He turns and smiles at me. “I would agree.”
Then I go inside fully prepared to open another bottle of wine and drown my sorrows about Brad in the hot tub that he bought for me.
Chapter 34
Kat
I can’t get my brain to turn off and nothing that is running through it makes sense. I’m not making sense of Brad and my thoughts about him. Am I still in love with him? Did I ever stop? Why did seeing him with Stacy bother me so much? If you had asked me a few weeks ago, I would have told you that I was totally over him. It was easy not to think about him back when I thought I was imminently dying and going through treatment.
Well, that’s not entirely true, I’m not sure if it was easy not to think about him. But I knew that I was correct in my convictions of not tying him to me for the rest of his life. Or, rather, the rest of mine, I guess that’s going to come first, right? At the time I said that I loved him enough to let him go, I just want him to be happy. I’m not the girl that’s going to make him happy whether he thinks I am or not. He’s wrong.
I grab my iPod, plug it into my speakers and cue my Sudden Death pl
aylist. It’s the one I listen to when all else is lost and I really need to wallow in self pity and despair:
“We’ve Got Tonight” – Bob Seger
“She’s Got a Way” – Billy Joel
“Here Come’s a Regular” – The Replacements
“Never Let Me Go” – Aretha Franklin
“Lonely Sinking Feeling” – Cowboy Junkies
“Look What You’ve Done to Me” - Boz Scaggs
“Hurt” - Johnny Cash
“3am” - Edwin McCain
I could go on and on.
Self-pity and despair is what I need right now.
I don’t grab a bottle of wine and I don’t go in the hot tub.
Instead, I lie on my couch and look out at the ocean. The best thing about my place, aside from being on the water, is the floor to ceiling windows that make up every west facing wall. The night is pitch black, which is perfect for my mood.
Aw, fuck it.
Apparently, I’m opening a bottle of wine. Since here I am in the kitchen, wine opener in one hand, wine bottle in the other. I mean, if you can’t use a terminal illness as an excuse to drink all night, what can you use it for?
I proceed to reenact the ‘all by myself’ scene from the movie, Bridget Jones Diary, drink my wine and sulk for the remainder of the glass, which goes a little too quickly.
About twenty minutes in to my self-indulgent pity party, I am a sloppy, snotty mess. I’ve got Love Actually playing on the TV with no sound and I just keep fast forwarding to all the sad scenes, my bottle of wine (now half empty) with a back-up bottle just in case, an industrial-sized bag of gummy bears, and my playlist. Everything that has ever been wrong or ever will be wrong in my life is working it’s way out of my system via tear ducts and nasal cavities.
I get a text from Remi asking me if I’m okay after seeing Brad and Stacy. I tell her I’m just having a blah night and can’t sleep, but it’s fine I’ll be better tomorrow. I just need to feel sorry for myself for a while. She tells me to text her if I need anything.
My tears finally dry up as I’m fast forwarding through Armageddon, my go-to tear jerker movie; to get to the part where Harry is telling Grace goodbye, when I hear a knock on the door. I’m not expecting anyone, especially not this late. Within seconds there’s knocking and the doorbell, and I’m pretty sure I can hear a woman’s voice yelling. I wrap myself in my blanket and move to unlock the door, only to have Remi push her way in.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Well, sometimes the self-pity wallowing nights are meant to be spent alone, and sometimes they aren’t. Besides, I brought wine and gummy bears and ordered Chinese delivery on my way here… ” she pauses talking and looks around my living room, “I see you started without me.” She leads me by the blanket over to the couch and sits me down.
“How far into it are you?” she asks. I’m not sure if she means my pity party or the movie.
So I say, “Just half a bottle. So it’s good you brought one. And Harry just said goodbye to Grace. And stupid Brad… is just… stupid and stuff.”
She leans over and hugs me. “I wondered if it would be hard to see him on a date. Why on earth he took her to your bestie’s winery is beyond me. He had to know you’d be there.”
I look at her and start crying all over again. “It’s not just Brad it’s everything. It’s my life. I’m going to be alone. No one is going to hold my face to kiss me goodnight at the front door. And I don’t want to be alone. The cancer is going to come back in some random fucked up place, and I know that I’m supposed to stay positive and I feel like I do but then there’re nights like tonight and I just can’t stay positive anymore.
“I can’t do it. I’m never going to make homemade lemonade and plan picnics with real plates. I’m never going to be that girl that wears a sweater set and capris and looks country club pretty and wrinkle-free. And it’s not even about Brad, not really. Or maybe it is. Fuck! I just need time to wallow and think as many negative thoughts as I can come up with. And then it will be tomorrow and I’ll be better, I promise.”
She sits down next to me on the couch and pulls me into a hug, my head resting against her chest while she strokes my hair.
“First, everyone hates the girl that wears a sweater set and capris. And by everyone, I mean absolutely everyone. So, you don’t want to be her anyway. Second, you take whatever you need whenever you need it, beautiful girl, and if there’s something you need that I can give you, you tell me.
“Otherwise, I’m just going to guess at what you need. Like right now, I’m going to go call in sick to work tomorrow, open this bottle of wine, and then join you on the couch. We’ll eat Chinese, line up additional movies, open more wine, and make an overnight of it.”
“I’m not good company right now, Remi,” I tell her.
“Well, that works, ‘cause I’m not looking for good company, I’m just looking to sit on your couch, get really drunk, and watch movies. With little to no interaction. Except maybe pass me another eggroll or pause the movie so I can go pee.”
I smile up at her gratefully,
“I’m lucky to have you Rem,” I say. “And your boobs make really good pillows.”
She laughs. “Ditto, mama. Ditto a thousand times, on both counts. Be right back.”
She’s back on the couch in a matter of minutes, having commandeered a wine glass for herself. She fills her glass, refills mine, grabs a handful of gummy bears, presses play on the remote and settles herself in for the remainder of the movie. By the time our third tear-jerker movie ends, we’ve conquered our own body weight in gummy bears and Chinese food, two bottles of wine, and an entire box of tissues.
Chapter 35
Kat
We go out on the balcony to watch the sunrise with hot coffee and cold Chinese. The people watching was always good at sunrise and sunset. And by people, I mean guys jogging in shorts and hopefully little else. I turn to Remi. “Did I ever tell you that Brad’s company frequently runs this stretch of the beach?”
“Really?!” She tilts her sunglasses down and peruses the beach more carefully.
I laugh. “They usually run later in the morning.”
“Do you know this because you see him or because you know his schedule?” she asks, grinning.
“Both,” I tell her, ducking my head. “But whenever I see him, I hide behind the patio set so he doesn’t see me, but he always looks up.”
“Does he see you hiding?”
“Probably, I know it’s lame. I don’t know why I do it.”
She laughs at me. “Hey, speaking of guys… “ she points up the beach toward a group of guys, all in navy blue shorts and shirts, running down the beach. My heart starts beating faster. I’m fairly certain it’s guys from Brad’s station, it’s the only one close enough that they’d be running at this beach. And I have no idea if he’s with them.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” I mumble to Remi and run inside the house.
“Chicken!” she calls back at me.
I take my time in the restroom, then stop to grab us some orange juice and acetaminophen. I can hear that she’s talking to someone when I return a few minutes later.
“Okay,” she’s yelling at the group. “But tell him that Kat and Remi say hello and we miss him!”
I rush to the balcony only to see the backs of the guys jogging farther up the beach, back toward the station house.
“What the hell, Remi?!?” I smack her on the upper arm. “What did you say?”
“Oh, settle down. I just asked if they were from A-Shift, but they were from C-Shift. They said B-shift was out helping another city with a big fire somewhere else and that A-Shift was paged in to cover the other city’s firehouse until they got back. I didn’t know they did that, that’s kind of cool. Anyway, so I asked if they knew Brad and they said yes, so I told them to tell him that Kat and Remi said hi.”
“And that we missed him,” I fume.
“Well, we do,” she said.<
br />
“No, we don’t! We just saw him last night. That was dumb!”
“Kat, you miss him in the global sense of the word, as a fixture in your life, not because you haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Well, I certainly don’t need him knowing that.”
“Why not?”
“Ohmigod, Remi, really?”
“Come on, Kat,” she says. “You know that you want to be with him. You made that pretty obvious last night. And, he wants to be with you. Tell him to ditch Stacy and make you both happy.”
“Stacy makes him happy.”
“Bullshit. You’re good for him. And he’s good for you. And I’ve told you plenty of times that your head is up your ass where he’s concerned. And so has Lexie and so has your mom. So everyone who loves you the most knows that he’s good for you and that being with him is the right thing, and yet you still sit here acting like a fucking martyr.”
“I am not acting like a martyr. Take it back!”
“No way! And I’m being serious here, Kat. If you don’t give him another chance, I’m going to tell him that you’ve been secretly pining for him all this time and that you’ve never stopped loving him and that he should keep trying to get you back with any means possible. And then I’m going to tell him that you have a shrine built to him on the inside of the door to your medicine cabinet.”
“It’s not a shrine!”
“It’s a fucking shrine. That door is covered with pictures of him and of the two of you.”
“So what?”
“So, you still love him. You still want a future with him. And, sweetie, I gotta tell you, there is no one who deserves to be loved like you do. You have been through hell and come out of it fighting. Don’t you want someone fighting next to you?”
“I have you guys for that.”
“Someone fighting next to you that you can have sex with?”
“I can have sex with you guys.”
“Quit being obstinate.”
“Fine! Fine! I’ll think about it. Whatever. Change the subject”
“So, what’s new?” she asks.
“Well, I’ve got a creepy stalker who planted a camera on my balcony.”