Shore Feels Right

by Annette Mardis

  Stella thunked him on the back of the head. “That’s from Evan.” Another thunk. “And that’s from me.”

  Monica stifled a laugh as Jack rubbed the sore spot.

  “Damn touchy woman,” he groused.

  “Did you say something, dear?” Stella asked sweetly. “Because I’d hate to think that wasn’t enough to knock some sense into you.”

  Luckily for Jack, their server appeared at that moment loaded down with plates of wings, nachos, and curly fries.

  As everybody else set upon the food like locusts invading a cornfield, Monica nibbled on a wing and a couple of fries. Her overactive mind kept replaying her last encounter with Cosby, and a fresh wave of regret swept through her.

  “Are you all right?” a voice beside her asked. Monica looked up to see Dani studying her. “You seem so sad all of a sudden.”

  “I, uh, was just, um…thinking about that nastiness with Truman,” Monica fibbed.

  “You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

  “Look, Dani, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Really.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.”

  “Fine, I’ll let it go. But first you need to hear this. There are plenty of lonely, bitter people in this world who let pride and insecurity derail their happiness. You’re too intelligent to be one of them.”

  Monica’s dormant mean girl, reawakened by all that had happened with Truman and Cosby, howled in outrage and clawed her way out of exile.

  “Oh, and I suppose you’re speaking from experience?”

  Monica cringed inwardly at her haughty, sarcastic tone, but suddenly all the months she’d spent trying to be—no, actually being—a better person seemed empty and unrewarded. What’s being nice gotten you? the mean girl demanded. Nothing. Not one damned thing. Self-pity caused bile to back up in her throat, and Monica did what she always did when she couldn’t handle her emotions. She lashed out.

  “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you, Dani? Well, guess what? You don’t know squat about me or my life. You’re happy, you’re in love, you’re living in a dream world. But here’s a reality check. People can’t change their basic natures, no matter how hard they try. I’ve been kidding myself for months, masquerading as a decent person. But underneath the mask I’m still the same selfish bitch I always was. So save your advice for someone who actually has a heart and a conscience and gives a shit, okay?”

  All other conversation stopped at the table, and Monica took in their stunned expressions. Good! She smirked, inviting them to put her in her place. She welcomed it, needed it, deserved it. Defending herself certainly would be better than sitting here missing Cosby, feeling like a fraud, wallowing in woe is me.

  Evan stared at her with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

  “Monica, what the he—”

  “It’s okay,” Dani interrupted, patting his hand. “I’ve got this.” She turned to Monica, who was surprised to see understanding in Dani’s eyes.

  “You can take it out on me all you want,” she began, “but you know I’m right. There’s a very simple way to fix what’s bothering you. Call him. Tell him you miss him, that you love him, and that you want to try again.”

  “I don’t want him back.”

  “Bullshit.” This from Stella. Both women ignored her.

  “Yes, you do,” Dani countered.

  “We’re not a good match,” Monica insisted.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “He deserves somebody better.”

  “Probably, but he loves you. Go figure.”

  Monica scowled. Dani raised an eyebrow.

  “What if he’s finished with me?”

  “What if he’s not?”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “What if you’re just scared?”

  Monica narrowed her eyes. Dani gave her a penetrating look.

  “I should tell you to mind your own damned business.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Monica huffed out a breath. “You’re infuriating.”

  “You’re exasperating.”

  “You’re a Pollyanna.”

  “You’re Maleficent.”

  Monica barked out a laugh. “What?”

  “Or the Evil Queen from Snow White. Or maybe Ursula the Sea Witch.”

  Monica’s mouth quirked. “Don’t stop now. You’re on a roll.”

  “Cruella de Vil? The Queen of Hearts? Wicked Witch of the West?”

  “Okay, Glinda, I get it.”

  “Do you? Because I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you want from me?” Monica nearly screamed.

  “I don’t want anything. But you want what I have.”

  “Seriously? Are we back to that again? I don’t want Evan. He’s all yours. You have my blessing and all that other syrupy crap.”

  “Well, that’s good, because you can’t have him back. Right, Evan?”

  “Hmm?” He clearly had no idea what they’d been saying, having tuned them out in favor of Gilligan’s Island reruns on TV Land. But ever the good fiancé, he smiled and kissed her. “Right, sweetie. Whatever you say.”

  He went back to watching the sitcom, as did Flipper and Kenshin. The rest of them appeared to have lost interest in the Monica-Dani show, too.

  “And I wasn’t talking about Evan,” Dani continued. “I was talking about finding your one true love, settling down, starting a family.”

  Monica snorted. “That’s a fairy tale.”

  Dani looked at Tanner, whispering in Courtney’s ear, making her blush, and Stella, feeding Jack a curly fry.

  “Are you sure about that?” Dani asked.

  “For them, it’s a real possibility,” Monica replied. “For me, it’s a delusion.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, get over yourself, Princess Pity Party.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Sure was. It flew right out of my mouth when I opened it. Didn’t even have to think about it. You know why? Because when Evan got that job offer in Seattle, just after I’d given up my apartment to move in with him, I sat around feeling sorry for myself like you’re doing now. And guess what my mother told me? Get over it. But I made myself sick worrying about whether I should stay here or go with him. And when I finally agreed to follow him across the country, he told me he’d turned down his dream job because building a life here with me was more important.”

  “Well, isn’t that just a Hallmark movie moment that has nothing whatsoever to do with me.”

  “It has everything to do with you because, while the circumstances are different, the bottom line isn’t. You have a chance to be happy, Monica, if you’ll set aside your wounded ego and your insecurities and make this less about you and more about you and Cosby.”

  “There is no me and Cosby. Not anymore.”

  Dani shook her head. “Fine. Have it your way. Be heartsick and stubborn. You’re only hurting yourself. And Cosby, too, of course.”

  With that, Dani turned her back on Monica, threw her arms around Evan, and kissed the stuffing out of him. Monica watched them for a moment, then averted her eyes. A few seconds later, she sneaked another look. Still kissing. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and poured herself another beer.

  Chapter 38

  Monica dreamed about Cosby that night, but it wasn’t a sexy fantasy or a bittersweet memory. It was a nightmare. They were at opposite ends of a long hallway and she started trotting toward him, with no apparent obstacles in front of her. But she wasn’t even halfway there when the floor fell away. She almost plunged into the abyss but somehow managed to stop in time. As she looked around for a way to bridge the gap, his image began to shimmer, then fade. As he slowly disappeared, she called out, but he didn’t answer. Soon, all that was left where he’d stood was a red paper heart, ripped in half, with her footprints on it.

  She woke up screaming Cosby’s name. Sweat dampened her camisole and boxers, but she started shaking, suddenly chilled to th
e bone. Tears streamed down her face, and she thought she might hyperventilate. She reached over to the nightstand and picked up her cell phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she brought up his number. Her finger poised over the touch screen, she caught a glimpse of her alarm clock. Three a.m. She sighed and tossed the phone beside her on the bed.

  Monica flopped back onto the mattress and tucked her pillow under her head. She stared at the ceiling and willed herself back to sleep. She closed her eyes but couldn’t shut off her mind. Dani’s words played over and over in her head.

  There are plenty of lonely, bitter people in this world who let pride and insecurity derail their happiness. You’re too intelligent to be one of them.

  Monica didn’t feel so smart at the moment. In fact, she felt pretty stupid. Days ago, lying beside Cosby, she’d had another dream, this one about a wedding ring, a mischievous little boy with his daddy’s blue eyes, a blonde baby girl with a toothless grin, and a cozy home overflowing with love and laughter. Was she really ready to give up on all that?

  Two hours later, still wide awake, she asked herself the same question.

  Finally giving up on sleep, Monica dragged herself out of bed a half hour later and turned on the coffeemaker. She shuffled back to her bedroom and stared at the overflowing laundry basket in her closet. She didn’t have to be at work until nine and was running low on clean uniform shirts, so she figured she might as well wash a load or two. Sorting through the dirty clothes, separating whites, darks, and colors, she came across two pairs of Cosby’s socks and underwear, a couple of his T-shirts, and a polo with the Nauti-Toys logo. She breathed in his lingering scent, and tears welled in her eyes. She swiped them away and tried to swallow past the boulder lodged in her throat.

  An odd thought occurred to her then. Her panties and bras, which had been mixed in with Cosby’s garments, were getting more action these days than she was. And wasn’t that a sad state of affairs?

  * * * *

  Late that afternoon, after Monica got off work, she found herself headed to the watercraft rental business on the beach as if her car were on autopilot. Her emotions, though, were all over the map. Nervous. No, petrified. Pensive. Hopeful. Let’s get this over with, she thought as she pulled into the parking lot. She turned off the ignition and gathered her thoughts. Her happiness hung in the balance, but no big deal, right?

  She checked her image in the rearview mirror and pulled her lipstick and compact out of her purse. That set off an internal debate that made her temples throb.

  Quit stalling.

  I’m not! Just a little touch-up that’ll only take a few seconds. See? All done.

  How ridiculous is this, arguing with myself?

  Pitiful, that’s what I am. Just pitiful.

  Shut up and get out of the car. That’s it, put one foot in front of the other. There you go. Making progress. I can do this. Easy peasy.

  Before she knew it, she stood at the front counter staring at Gavin. He looked at her as if unsure whether to say hello or get lost. She shifted from one foot to the other.

  Finally, he spoke. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I need to talk to Cosby. Is he around?”

  “In his office. Want me to buzz him?”

  “No. I’ll just go back, if that’s okay. I need to talk to him in private.”

  “I hope you plan to apologize. You won’t find a better man than my brother.”

  “I know.”

  She walked down the hallway, her heart thudding. What if he wants nothing to do with me? Not that I’d blame him, but still.

  Monica stopped in the doorway and tapped on his open office door. Sitting at his desk, he looked up from his laptop, and she forgot to breathe.

  His eyes lit up, then shuttered. “What do you want, Monica?”

  “I’ve got something I need to say to you. Can I come in?”

  “I think you said enough the last time I saw you.”

  “Please, Cosby. I think, I hope, you’ll want to hear this.”

  He motioned her in, and she exhaled in a rush, shut the door, and sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk. Crumbs from a half-eaten hoagie littered the top, and he brushed them into a trash can.

  “I’m sorry if I interrupted your dinner.”

  “I’m not all that hungry.”

  “You haven’t been eating right, have you?”

  “Do you really care?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “You know what, maybe this was a mistake.” She stood and, in her haste to retreat, smacked her knee, hard, on his desk. “Ouch! Damn it, that hurt.” She took a limping step and grimaced when pain radiated down her leg.

  Cosby jumped up and cupped her elbow to steady her. “You okay?”

  Monica rubbed her knee and counted to ten in her head.

  “It’ll be fine in a minute.” Or twenty.

  “Sit back down and I’ll get you some ice.”

  “Cosby, I don’t need…”

  The next thing she knew, he’d eased her into the chair and knelt beside her. His big hands felt warm on her leg as he surveyed her knee for damage.

  “You’re going to have one hell of a bruise.”

  She shrugged. “It’ll be nothing compared to the crack in my heart.”

  His hands stilled and he looked up, a world of pain and concern and—dare she hope?—affection reflected in his eyes.

  “Monica, why are you here?”

  “To talk about us.”

  “I didn’t think there was an ‘us’ anymore.”

  “Do you want there to be?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll be the luckiest woman alive if you agree to try again.” When he didn’t respond, she hurried to add, “I’m sorry I overreacted and ordered you out of the apartment. I miss you. I want you to come home.”

  He slipped into the chair beside her and scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

  “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay in Gulf Shore?”

  “I don’t want to leave. I never really did. I love it here. I love my job, my friends. And most of all, I love you.”

  There. She’d finally said it. Her heart laid bare, she knew the next move was up to him. But apparently, he didn’t plan to make this simple.

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “It’s not all that sudden. I regretted the things I said, the way I acted, right after I stormed out that night. But I’ve eaten so much crow the last few months, I didn’t think I could stomach another bite. I’ll be happy to choke down another helping, though, if it proves to you how sorry I am.”

  “So what happens next time we have a disagreement?”

  “We talk it out like mature adults. I made a mistake, Cosby, the biggest out of many in my life. And I can’t promise I won’t make more. But I can tell you with all certainty that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I’m still not convinced I deserve you, but I’ll be the best woman I know how to be and pray that’s enough.”

  His solemn expression caused her stomach to roil. Then he broke into a huge grin. He rose from his chair and headed toward the hallway.

  “Where are you…” The words trailed off when he shut his office door and locked it. He closed the mini blinds, too, and offered his hand to pull her out of her seat. She went into his arms as if she’d never left.

  “I love you, too,” he murmured. “I’ve been dying inside without you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I don’t need you to be anybody but yourself.”

  The kiss started out conciliatory and turned steamy in a flash. She pressed herself closer and opened her mouth to let him delve inside, savoring the familiar taste and feel of him. As their tongues tangled, a sweet ache pulsed between her legs, and she imagined clearing his desktop with a sweep of her hand and urging him to take her there, fast and furious. She reached up under his shir
t to run her fingers up the hard planes of his back, and he shoved his hands down her shorts inside her panties.

  Monica stepped back and started to peel her shirt over her head when someone knocked on the office door.

  “Go away,” Cosby growled.

  “It’s Detective Tompkins. I need to speak with you. Now.”

  He made a strangled sound in his throat. Monica groaned and whispered, “What do you think she wants?”

  “Maybe she’s here to arrest me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “I won’t let her take you away from me.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “How about baking me a cake with a file in it?”

  “This is no time to joke, Cosby.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s either that or scream. And I don’t think that would help my case any.”

  Jo pounded on the door again and jiggled the doorknob.

  “Don’t make me shoot out this lock.”

  Monica’s eyes widened. “Is she kidding?”

  “You tell me. You know her better than I do,” Cosby noted.

  “I’d say it’s a toss-up. You’d better let her in.”

  Monica straightened her clothes and smoothed back her hair as Cosby trudged to the door. When Jo stepped inside, she seemed startled to see the other woman standing there.

  “Gavin didn’t tell me you were here. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “No problem. I’ll just wait out in the hall while you guys talk.” Monica started to leave.

  “Wait,” Cosby called. “I want you to stay. Please. If that’s okay with you, detective.”

  Jo nodded and the three of them stood in awkward silence for a few heartbeats.

  Remembering his manners, he asked, “Would you like to have a seat?”

  “No, thank you,” Jo replied. “This will just take a minute, and then I’ll leave you to…whatever you were doing. I received a call a little while ago from Truman Raines’ lawyer.” Monica’s heart leaped in her chest. “He was pretty ticked off. He wanted to let me know that, against his advice, Mr. Raines has decided to drop his complaint. The lawyer claims that Wesley Coffey ‘blackmailed’ his client into this decision.”

  “What?” Cosby and Monica blurted at the same time.