Until Now

by Rebecca Phillips

  “Sorry,” Ryan said, moving his leg out of my reach. “Cramp.”

  To keep from laughing, I focused on the delicious-looking spread in front of me. As promised, this Sunday’s dinner had a Mexican theme, complete with fajita fixings, spicy rice, tortilla chips, and bowls of homemade salsa and guac. My mouth watered.

  Due to all the extra room, Mason was sitting with us at the big table this time. When he was through eating, he ducked under the table and resurfaced on my left side. Wordlessly, and to my surprise, he attempted to climb onto my lap. I reached down to help, hefting him up and positioning him so his back rested against my chest and his curly head came to just below my chin.

  “How’s she supposed to eat with you in her way, buddy?” Ryan asked him.

  “He’s fine,” I said, because he was. The warm weight and scent of him set off something inside me, tiny slivers knitting back together like a once-fractured bone. He seemed to sense it too, how therapeutic his presence was for me, because he took my free arm and draped it across his small chest, letting me know he didn’t mind.

  Finishing dinner proved to be tricky with a forty-pound child between me and my plate, so I gave up and leaned back, content just to sit. At one point I looked up and caught the expression on Jane’s face, which was a mixture of satisfaction and hope. Even acerbic Nicole looked a little touched by the scene. After all, it had been a long time since Mason had anything resembling a mom.

  My body suddenly went cold. Was that what they thought? Was that what Ryan thought? That I was on board to become Mason’s stand-in mother, Ryan’s new girlfriend? Had I unwittingly planted this idea in their heads? If so, it was time to uproot it, and soon.

  I’d wreck you, I thought as Ryan’s hand grazed mine under the table. Probably even worse than your ex-wife wrecked you.

  I liked this family too much to let myself be that woman.

  “Let’s go upstairs for a minute,” Ryan said to me after the dinner mess was cleaned up. “I want to show you my old room.”

  “Yeah, I bet that’s what you want to show her,” Nicole said, poking him in the shoulder as she passed by on her way to the living room. Ryan gave her his If you were a boy I’d punch you in the throat glare that he seemed to keep in reserve just for her.

  “Okay,” I replied, smiling in spite of myself. His ulterior motives were kind of obvious. He was impatient to kiss me again, and possible relationship misconceptions aside, I desperately wanted to kiss him again too. But that didn’t mean I was going to, at least not until I said my piece.

  In the month or so since I’d started coming here, I’d never been on the second floor of the house. Ryan headed to the first door on the right and swung it open, motioning for me to go inside first. The room was spacious and painted a neutral beige, drawing my eye to the dark blue comforter spread over the double bed. Trophies lined the dresser, most of them having to do with swimming.

  “I used to share this room with Garrett when I was little,” Ryan said, leaning against the wall by the door. “He hated it. There’s a nine-year age difference between us, so I was always annoying him and getting into his stuff. I always thought he was mean back then, so I was glad when he went away to college and I got the room all to myself.”

  I wandered around, touching things. A stack of out-of-date video games. A shelf filled with books. The trophies. “You were a jock?” I said, turning back to Ryan.

  “Not really. I did competitive swimming in high school and a little in college. I was never very passionate about it, but I still do it sometimes, for fun.”

  Moving to the closet, I opened it and peeked inside. Old clothes. Boxes. “I’m not going to find a box of porn in here, am I?” I asked.

  He laughed. “No, I think I got rid of it.”

  I backed out of the closet and gave him a reproving look. “How many girls have you entertained in this room, young man?”

  “A couple,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and moving toward me. “But none since high school.”

  I swallowed as he reached for me, pulling me against his body. As he lowered his face to mine, I placed my hands on his chest and whispered, “Ryan.”

  “What?” he breathed against my lips.

  “I’m not—”

  The door swung open then, causing us to spring apart. “Daddy?” said a little voice.

  Ryan backed up away from me, leaving at least three feet between us. “Yeah, Mase? What is it?”

  “I’m ready to play Chutes and Ladders now,” Mason said, hopping up and down in the doorway, seemingly unfazed by what he’d almost walked into.

  “How about you go and set it up on the kitchen table for us? We’ll be right down.”

  “Okay!” he said, and disappeared from the doorway. Seconds later, I heard his footsteps plodding down the stairs. Once we were safely in the clear again, Ryan turned back to me.

  “You were saying?” He pulled me close again, his lips brushing against my ear.

  Oh God, I thought. What was I saying? “Um,” I said, forcing myself to step back. “Before we go any further, I just wanted to make sure you knew that I…well, I’m not really looking for a serious relationship right now.”

  He stared down at me, his pupils slightly dilated with desire. Surprisingly, my words hadn’t done much to douse it. “Good,” he said, “because neither am I.”

  “Really?”

  He chuckled at my obvious surprise. “You’re beautiful, you make me laugh, and I like kissing you. And unless I’m totally misreading the signals here, you like kissing me too. Let’s just leave it at that for now, okay?”

  Relieved, I looped my arms around his neck and touched my lips to his. “Well, in that case…”

  * * *

  Two days later, I woke up to a text on my phone from my stepfather.

  Meet me at the Starbucks on Gerard at noon. Have something for you.

  I stared at the text, dumbfounded and still half-asleep. My first thought was of Drake and Lila, that he’d brought them home and for some weird reason chose to hold our reunion at Starbucks. Then I woke up fully and remembered that this was Alan, the man who rarely brought me good news.

  OK, I texted back as I checked the time. Ten-fifteen. I was on evening shift all week, three to nine, and I’d hoped to sleep in a bit longer since I didn’t have to get up for work. But Alan never texted me, so I knew it had to be something important.

  I arrived at Starbucks first and ordered a coffee and a cinnamon brioche. Then I claimed one of the few empty tables and sat down to wait. For some reason, I felt nervous. What was with all the nervous energy lately? Usually, I took things in stride. Maybe I needed to smoke more pot.

  Alan strode in a few minutes late, dressed in a dark gray suit that was tailored to hide the flabby stomach underneath. Heads turned as he walked toward me, but not because he was particularly handsome. His clothes and posture exuded power.

  “I’m going to grab an Americano,” he said after greeting me with a small nod.

  While he was in line, I forced myself to finish my brioche, even though my stomach was quaking. Maybe one of them is hurt, I thought. Or maybe something happened to Mom. But would he tell me something like that in Starbucks, surrounded by a dozen people? Would he be ordering an Americano and tapping away on his phone while he waited?

  Yes, I decided. This was Alan, after all.

  “Okay,” he said, coming back with his drink and sitting across from me at the table. “I only have a few minutes here. First things first, I have these for you.” He reached into the front pocket of his suit and pulled out a pair of diamond stud earrings, the exact pair I’d gone to the Redwood Hills house to look for a couple of weeks ago, when I found him instead.

  “Where did you find them?” I asked as he dropped the studs onto my palm. These earrings were one of the only gifts I’d ever received from my mother. They’d belonged to her grandmother, and were very valuable. I’d hated myself for misplacing them.

  “They were in that g
lass dish on top of the hutch in the dining room. I figured they were yours since I’d never seen them on your mother.”

  As if you’d notice. “Well, thanks,” I said, stowing the earrings in the small zippered pocket inside my purse.

  “You’re welcome.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping our drinks and looking anywhere but at each other. It had always been like this with my stepfather—formal, tense, hostile—and I wondered if the animosity between us would ever fade. Probably not. Technically, we were nothing to each other now, and there was no point in trying to mend a relationship we’d never had.

  “So is that all?” I asked, gathering my purse and coffee like I was about to get up and leave. Which I was, if he didn’t speak up soon.

  “One more thing,” he said, and I froze in my seat, waiting. “I’m going to Lowry to visit the twins on Saturday. As you know, it’s their birthday next week…”

  I felt a fresh stab in my gut. Of course I knew it was their birthday next week. How could I not when it would be the first one I missed? I was even there on the day they were born. Not in the delivery room, as they’d arrived five weeks early via C-section, but in the waiting room nearby. I’d heard them crying. Lila first, lusty and strong, then Drake four minutes later, weaker but still reassuringly distinct. That was the moment I fell in love with them, the moment I realized how strongly I wanted to be a good big sister, someone they could idolize. And now, without them, all the work and strength and willpower it had taken to stay on the right track felt like it no longer mattered.

  I forced myself to focus on Alan, who was still talking. “…having a birthday party for them on Sunday, and I wanted to let you know that if you have birthday presents for them, I can take them with me.”

  “Would you tell them the gifts were from me?” I said, probably louder and harsher than I’d meant to. The woman at the next table glanced over at us.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, frowning.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, flapping my hand airily. “Maybe because your parents don’t want me contacting the twins? Tell me, what would they do if I showed up there, on their doorstep, and asked to see Drake and Lila?” Before he could answer, I pressed on. “They’d slam the fucking door in my face, that’s what. That’s why I haven’t driven up there—because I know exactly what would happen. They’d refuse to let me in, I’d make a scene, and the twins would get upset.” My voice trembled, and I took a sip of coffee as an excuse to pause. “They won’t even let me talk to them on the phone,” I continued, calmer now. “Why would they let me give them birthday gifts, even if they’re delivered by you?”

  Alan opened his mouth and then closed it again, likely realizing he had no argument for once. I was right and he knew it. Until now, I thought that maybe Alan was truly clueless when it came to his parents and how shitty they were acting. That maybe he wasn’t quite as bad as they were. After all, he did have some good qualities. He’d always been generous with money. He’d paid my tuition and let me live in his house rent-free. He rarely saw the twins, but when he was with them, he never mistreated them. He’d never made a pass at me or even looked at me inappropriately. Sure, he was a lying, cheating bastard, but he wasn’t like those men I read about in true crime books, the charming, manipulative sociopaths who destroyed lives and people without a second thought. He had at least some evidence of a heart.

  Or maybe that was my own naïve assumption.

  “Fine.” Alan stood up, shrugging like he couldn’t have cared less. “Suit yourself.”

  And then, for the first time ever, he walked away with the last word.

  Chapter 16

  “Come on. You know you want to.” Abby folded her arms on my desk and leaned in, reflexively arching her back in a stretch. This position made her sculpted ass stick out, a definite distraction to the guy currently walking by my desk. He tripped over his own shoelaces and then righted himself, his eyes never straying from their target.

  “I don’t, actually,” I said, proving my point with a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m just not up for Fusion tonight, Abs. Sorry.”

  “But it’s Friday night! And there’s a disco theme! Seriously, you can’t tell me you don’t want to wear platform shoes and do the hustle with a bunch of guys dressed like the seventies version of John Travolta.”

  “Yes, I can.” Actually, it did sound like fun, and also something I would’ve totally immersed myself in if I hadn’t felt so miserable. Ever since the conversation with Alan three days before, I’d been tired and despondent. Depressed. Drake and Lila were turning three next Wednesday, and I wouldn’t be there to help them celebrate. I wouldn’t get to see them blow out their candles at their party on Sunday. Would the grandparents get them separate cakes and sing Happy Birthday twice like I’d done for their last two birthdays? I doubted it. They didn’t seem like the type to care about autonomy.

  “I bet Cody will be there,” Abby said, smiling convincingly.

  “So? I haven’t heard a word from him since your party last weekend. I’m not going to chase him.”

  She didn’t get a chance to respond to this because Wade came out of his office then to holler at us.

  “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your seven o’clock appointment, Ms. Brooks?” he asked Abby. She glanced at his head, which was quickly lathering itself into a high gleam, and slinked off into the gym area. Wade turned his flinty stare on me. “Look alive, Ms. Calvert. Try to act like you’re enjoying yourself.”

  I nodded and sat up straight. My gloom must have been rising around my desk like a fog. I couldn’t wait for closing time, so I could head back to my room and crawl into bed. Better than crawling into a vodka bottle, I guess. That was one reason I wanted to avoid Fusion tonight. Drinking while depressed rarely ended well, at least in my case, and I wasn’t in the mood to cry in a filthy washroom stall.

  Then, at eight forty-five, the fog of gloom was parted by a sliver of sun in the form of a text from Ryan.

  Want to help me close up tonight?

  I smiled genuinely for the first time all night. Margins closed at nine on weeknights, the same as Bay Street Fitness, so I knew I couldn’t make it over there in time to be of much help. I also knew that “help” wasn’t what he was really after. All of a sudden, the night ahead didn’t seem so bleak.

  Ryan and I had texted back and forth a lot this past week, just short, upbeat messages that lightened some of the darkness in my head. On Wednesday afternoon, I’d popped into the bookstore to visit him, but the place was unusually busy and we didn’t get to talk much. But tonight, after closing, with the lights dimmed and the blinds drawn, I’d have him all to myself.

  When I got there at nine-thirty, I found the door unlocked and Ryan in the back room, balancing the cash drawer.

  “Are you crazy?” I asked when he looked up from the neat stacks of bills. “I could’ve been a robber, or a serial killer coming in here to slit your throat and then rob you. Why didn’t you lock the door before you started this?”

  He stuffed the cash into a deposit envelope and flashed me a grin. “Because I knew you were coming.”

  “Well,” I said, charmed by that damn smile, as usual. “You’re lucky it was me and not Ted Bundy.”

  “He’s dead.” His voice faded away as he disappeared into the tiny bathroom to disinfect his hands. “Which you should know,” he said, appearing again, “seeing as you read all that grisly true crime stuff.”

  “I knew,” I said, indignant. “I just said it to make a point. There are homicidal maniacs out there, you know.”

  “Oh?” His eyes locked on mine as he slowly advanced toward me.

  “Not to mention crackheads,” I went on, knowing I was supposed to back up, let myself be chased. But I didn’t want to be chased. I wanted to be captured. “Addicts who are willing to do anything for their next high, even rob a crazy man in his own bookstore.”

  He was right in front of me now, maneuvering me back against the scratched w
all of the office. He rested his palms on either side of my body, locking me in like Cody had done in Abby’s kitchen. But going by the response between my legs, the way Ryan did it was about a million times sexier. “Point taken,” he said before leaning in to kiss me.

  There was no starting slow this time. He crushed his mouth to mine, parting my lips with his tongue as he pressed into me. Soon, I felt more than just his jeans zipper pushing against my abdomen. Impulsively, I reached down and scraped one long fingernail along the straining denim.

  “Jesus,” he breathed, jolting backward.

  I laughed at his stunned expression. God, I loved surprising him. It was fun. My spirits had lifted significantly from the moment I’d walked in the store. “You taste like peanut butter cups,” I said, licking my lips. “Don’t tell me you have a secret stash of those too.”

  He dropped his arms from the wall, his breathing still uneven. “Of course I do. Want some?”

  Two minutes later, we were sitting on the green couch with an open bag of mini peanut butter cups between us. The no food or beverages rule was officially out the window, warning sign be damned.

  “I like your work uniform, by the way,” Ryan said as he took in my form-fitting red tank.

  “I wear this every time I come in here. I was wearing it the day we met, remember?”

  “Very clearly.”

  I shook my head and popped another mini cup in my mouth. “How is that possible? You barely even looked at me that day.”

  “I was trying not to stare like a creep,” he said. “It took me forever to think of something to say to you, but you intimidated me so much that I ended up coming across like a douche.”

  “There you go with that intimidation crap again.” I put the bag of chocolate on the floor and hooked my leg over his. “I’m just a flawed human being with a fucked-up past like everyone else. But yeah, you did come across like a bit of a douche.”

  He laughed and leaned in to kiss me again. This one was gentler, more reserved, but that didn’t mean it was any less hot. Not the way he did it. After a few minutes, I shifted closer and straddled his lap, my knees sinking into the plush cushions. Once I was settled snugly against him, he picked up where he left off, his lips sliding along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. When they reached the strap of my tank top, his fingers came up to help, nudging it off my shoulder. When his mouth landed there, in that space he’d just bared, I shivered and arched myself against him.