It takes a little over an hour to get there. When we pull in, Aubrey raises her eyebrows.
“I don’t have a life vest for Claire.”
“They do. I double-checked.” Ignoring the suspicious look on her face, I hop out of the truck and open the back door for Claire to climb out. Aubrey doesn’t know who “they” are, but she’s about to.
The lake glitters in the sunlight, and Claire squeals. “It’s so shiny.”
“Have you been to the lake before?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“First time for everything, Claire .”
Aubrey rounds the back of my truck. “A lake day? I’ll be honest Cordova, I didn’t take you for a lake guy.”
“I have all kinds of tricks up my sleeve.” Twenty feet away is the marina and our destination. “Come with me.” Aubrey and Claire follow me to the white building.
Ten minutes later Aubrey is shaking her head at me. “This is—”
“Going to be fine.” I interrupt.
Claire is wearing a lift vest, pulled tight and triple-checked by Aubrey, and playing knee deep in the water while our paddle board instructor, Bodie, gives us our first lesson. Aubrey listens closely.
When he’s finished, Bodie tells Aubrey to get on, then has me place Claire on the board in front of her.
We paddle out the way we’ve been taught. Aubrey goes slowly, and I have to keep slowing down for her. After a while, her shoulders drop from her ears. She begins smiling. The wind lifts her ponytail. Claire sits cross-legged in front of Aubrey, pointing at everything she sees.
We paddle to a cove and climb off. Claire stays on until we’ve walked the boards almost completely out of the water. She hops off and splashes around while Aubrey and I watch from our place on the warm sand.
“Thank you,” Aubrey murmurs. With two fists, she gathers sand and buries her feet.
“For bringing you here?”
“Yes. And…for…” She sighs and shakes her head, frustrated.
“You’re welcome.” I don’t need to hear the actual words. Just knowing she’s thinking them is enough. Knowing I’m making her feel like that is better than an explanation.
We spend forty more minutes there, splashing with Claire and collecting rocks to leave a message in the sand. We were here.
When we arrive back at the marina, Aubrey looks unhappy it’s over. “Pick out a place for us where we can eat lunch.” I tell her. “I’m going to make sure everything is settled up with Bodie.”
Behind the desk in the little white building sits Bodie. In front of the desk is a dog, maybe a lab mix. It lies sleeping but perks up when I set my foot in the place.
Bodie looks up when the dog runs over to me. “Hey, man, how was it? Did your wife have fun?”
My hand, which had been scratching the top of the dogs head, stills. “Uh, yeah, she did.” I take my hand back. “She loved it.” I don’t want to correct him. His assumption does things to my heart and my head. Good things.
I pay Bodie for the lesson and the rental and shake his hand. He walks out with me to where Aubrey and Claire wait.
“It was nice to meet you both,” he says to them. “I love seeing families here. If you play together, you stay together.” With a nod at me he disappears back into his shop. Faintly I hear him talking to his dog.
“Did you find a spot for lunch?” I ask Aubrey.
She hands me her phone. On it are a list of choices she found in an internet search. A drop of water runs down the face of the phone, so I flick it off. Aubrey sniffs. I look at her, but she’s already turned away.
“Don’t,” she pleads, her voice quiet.
Like in the truck and at the cove, I don’t push for more. And like before, I already know.
I’ve never been so happy to see a woman cry.
Aubrey’s walls won’t be vanquished with the force of a wrecking ball or the smack of a sledgehammer.
She needs love.
It’s something I’ve been unknowingly giving her since day one.
God help me, I love her.
I’m letting Isaac in. It was sub-conscious at first. I think. But now it’s pretty damn conscious. Getting out of his bed every morning takes superhuman strength.
Five more minutes of warm toes pressed together.
A few more seconds of a smile he hasn’t yet given to anybody else that day.
And sometimes, if we’re lucky, we pretend we have an hour…
“Good morning, Doctor Cowboy.” I grin at Isaac over the island sink. His hair sticks up and his eyes are squinty. He looks sleepy and messy and delicious.
And he’s frowning. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” His voice is petulant. “No Sixty.” He grunts, circling the island. I keep washing strawberries like I’m not certain of his intentions.
His hand snakes around my midsection. He buries his face in my hair and inhales.
“That’s the smell I need to wake-up. My Aubrey alarm.” He groans happily and places a kiss on the back of my neck. “How much longer are you going to wash those strawberries?”
My hips press into him, and he grips my side with the hand wound around my waist.
My eyes close, enjoying the tease, when Isaac stills.
“Daddy, can we go to the park today?”
My eyes pop open. Claire’s standing at the entrance to the hallway, rubbing one eye with a fist.
Isaac’s jumps away from me. We’re on the far side of the island, and it’s too tall for Claire to see anything. But still. We haven’t sat down and told her that her mommy and daddy are together now. Then again, we haven't discussed it, so there wouldn’t be much to tell her yet.
From the outside, we look like we’re together. But on the inside… The official placement of that label feels monumental. As of right now, we’re co-parents. If we call ourselves more, and it doesn’t work out, Claire is officially from a broken home. The opposite of everything I want for her.
Isaac’s talking to Claire. He’s in front of her, bent down so he’s on her level. She’s smiling.
She runs to me. I bend down, scoop her up. She’s so cute in her nightgown with the mermaid print.
“Daddy said we could go to the park. And then grandma will be here to spend the night with me.”
My face is smiling at Claire, but my heart feels a twinge of sadness. I should be grateful she even has one grandma, because six months ago she had zero. But after seeing my mother, it’s hard.
I’ve spent a month pretending she doesn’t exist, then imagining what she looked like in The Lost Place eighteen years ago, then hating her, then reminding myself to forget her the way she forgot me.
There’s no point in dwelling over what or who I’ve found. Knowing where she is hasn’t changed anything. She’s still as gone as she ever was.
But there’s someone new, and he’s here. He’s present, in every way. And tonight, he’s taking me to a benefit gala. Which is why I need to spend the day shopping and getting a manicure and not at the park.
“You both have fun.” I smile at the happy picture they make. They’re holding hands. Fatherhood looks good on Isaac.
“Mommy’s going shopping,” Isaac says to Claire.
She sticks out her tongue. Shopping and running errands is far down on the list of things Claire likes to do. Like me, she’d rather be at the park.
It’s almost midday by the time I make it to the mall. I try on a dozen things before I decide on a simple floor-length champagne colored dress. And only after I send Britt pictures of me in it do I actually take it to the register.
The last time I got this dressed up was senior prom. Though I couldn’t care less about the dress, I can’t wait to see Isaac in a tux. Doctor Isaac looks handsome in scrubs, sexy in jeans, but something tells me that in a suit… he might look good enough to eat. Which is why I’m packing a surprise.
I laugh to myself, tapping my fingers on my steering wheel as I head to my nail appointment. There’s no way he’ll ever expect me to—<
br />
What was that?
My car lurches, and my teeth chatter. The front driver’s side is lower than the rest of the car. I brake even more and pull off the road. The guy behind me looks pissed, and I don't even have time to say hello with one finger.
I park and climb out.
Flat tire. Ugh.
At least Claire’s at the park. It’s way too hot to have her sitting on the side of the road with me.
I lean back into my car, turning on the hazards and setting the parking brake.
In the trunk, underneath an emergency backpack and a bag of sand toys, I find my jack, lug wrench, and spare tire.
So much for my manicure.
By the time I’m finished changing the tire, my body is slick with sweat. My hairline is soaked, long rivulets run from between my breasts to my belly button.
My arm muscles yell at me the first time I turn the wheel. I’m tired, hot, and in desperate need of a shower. But at least I have a car with four working wheels.
“Aubrey, what happened?” Isaac rushes to me.
I’ve stepped only four feet inside the apartment, but I’m sure my face is bright red. Not to mention the grease on my white shirt. And under my fingernails. The very opposite of the manicure I was supposed to have.
Claire puts down the necklace she’s beading and follows Isaac over.
“Mommy, you’re dirty.”
I bend down, but I don’t touch her. “I know, baby. Mommy had some car trouble.”
“Car trouble? Did you break down?” Isaac’s voice is still alarmed.
I stand and shake my head. “No.” I brush away a strand of hair that has fallen into my eyes and wonder if I’ve left a streak of grease across that side of my face. “Just a flat tire.” The rogue hair is back, and this time I use my shoulder to push it aside.
“Why didn’t you call?” His eyebrows draw together. He looks angry. And confused.
Claire goes back to her necklace making.
“I need to wash my hands.” I hold them up, even though he’s probably already noticed the black on them, and walk all the way back to my bedroom. I march into the connected bathroom and turn on the hot water.
Isaac is right behind me.
Pumping soap into my hands, I ask, “What would calling you have accomplished?”
“Help,” he says slowly, enunciating every letter.
I scrub a particularly dark spot next to my thumb. “I didn’t need help.”
Why is this so hard for him to understand?
“Where were you? Camelback? Scottsdale?” His arms cross, and his chin lifts.
I eye him in the mirror. “Roughly. Why?”
“That’s a very busy area.”
I sigh, shutting off the water. “What’s your point?”
He grabs the towel off the rack and tosses it to me. “Do you think that, maybe, in a condensed, crowded area, you could have used some help changing your tire?”
“Honestly? No. I was fine doing it alone. If anything, I was grateful Claire wasn’t there to sit in the sun while I did it.”
Isaac squints and cocks his head to the side, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“You were fine on your own?”
“Yes.” I’m exasperated. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell him. Why call for help when you don’t need it?
Isaac shakes his head and shifts his weight. “Fine. I get it. You didn’t need help. You can do it on your own.”
He backs out of the bathroom. “I’m sure you want to get showered. My mom will be here soon.”
I watch him go, then undress and turn on the water.
The hot spray hits my skin, pushing the salty sweat off my body. My hands go through the motion of my shower routine, but my mind thinks only of Isaac.
I made him sad. His disappointed eyes stare at me in my memory.
Isaac the fixer wanted to make my bad situation better. But why would I let him when I could do it myself?
Why didn’t she call?
Why didn’t she ask for help?
Of all the things about Aubrey, this is what scares me the most. Her total self-reliance.
I don’t want to own her. I don’t want to control her.
But I do want her to need me.
I think I’m back in his good graces.
Or maybe, since his mom is here, he’s not letting on how mad he is at me.
“You look lovely.” Lucia smiles at me as her gaze continues down. She makes a face when she sees my hands.
Despite my best efforts, I haven't been able to clean all the grease from under my nails. I glance at Isaac, who’s sitting on the couch next to Claire. He locks eyes with me, then looks away.
Maybe I’m not back in those good graces quite yet.
“I wasn’t able to make my manicure appointment today.” I dig at my thumb nail, like somehow that will work when soap hasn’t.
Lucia laughs. “So instead you rubbed your hands on a tire?”
I laugh too, making it a point not to look at Isaac again. “Something like that.”
She takes my hands, studying them. “Do you have a dark red nail polish? I think you could just paint them yourself, and it would be much harder to see the grease.”
“Good idea.” I hold out my hand to Claire, still not looking at Isaac. I hate that I’ve upset him. It’s even more frustrating that I don’t understand how. “Come get dressed for bed, then Mommy and Daddy will leave.”
After Claire’s dressed, she watches me paint my nails. When she starts her electronic toothbrush, I head for the living room to find the shoes I dropped beside the couch earlier.
I’m still in the hallway when I hear Isaac and his mom. Their voices are soft. Eavesdropping is wrong, but I can’t help it.
“It’s not that, Mom.” Isaac says. “I’m proud she can change a tire. I really don’t know if I could. I’m sure I could figure it out, but...” He sighs. “She didn’t call me. She didn't even think to call me. Not for one second did she think she needed help.”
“Maybe she didn’t.” Lucia says. I detect a bit of pride in her voice. And it makes me proud to know I’ve made her proud.
“It’s not about that, either.” Isaac argues. “Her willingness to go it alone bothers me. She’s not alone anymore. I’m here. She has me. We’re…” His voice trails off.
“You’re what?” Lucia asks.
Yes, Isaac, what are we?
“Mommy, why are you standing there?” Claire says to my back. I jump and turn.
I’m about to shush her when I realize I’ve already been outed. I take Claire’s hand and walk out, my face red.
Isaac looks at me with narrowed eyes, but a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
Lucia’s lips press together like she wants to laugh.
“I was just coming to get my shoes.” I throw back my shoulders and retrieve them from the floor.
“Let me take your picture,” Lucia says after I’ve finished winding the last strap around my ankle. She takes her phone from her purse and points it at us.
“Say cheese!” Claire yells.
We smile while Lucia takes what feels like fifty pictures.
We’re facing each other, a pose Lucia has carefully placed us in. “So, you no longer believe pictures steal a piece of your soul?” I ask Isaac under my breath.
His face is just inches from mine when he whispers, “Something else has already stolen my soul.”
I don’t have words. Just one giant, audible gulp.
“Thief,” he whispers into my ear.
“I want a picture with Mommy and Daddy too!” Claire shimmies in between us before I can respond.
Faintly I hear Lucia say cheese. I’m supposed to be smiling at the camera, but I’m not. I’m staring at Isaac. I watch him smile at Lucia, then laugh with our daughter, and I wonder at what point this all went from hours to more.
I think it’s time for The Talk.
But, considering we shared an Uber with Isaac’s friend and his w
ife, there hasn’t been a private moment yet. And another private moment definitely won’t be found at this place.
We’re forty-five minutes from home in the ballroom of a resort. It’s beautiful, I suppose. Gold metal-backed chairs, large flowery centerpieces, a shiny wood dance floor in front of an impressive stage. Too bad I can’t appreciate it. I’m distracted by the words I almost heard.
I’m here. She has me. We’re…
Isaac reaches for me. His hand is warm and soft, and suddenly I want to press my cheek against it.
I gaze at him, wondering if he’s on the same wavelength. Maybe it’s possible. Last week we both made Claire’s lunch for the next day, not realizing the other had already done it. And we’d made the exact same thing. More and more, every day, we’re falling into sync.
Except for right now. At this exact moment, Isaac lets go of my hip. He’s talking to someone from somewhere, I honestly don’t remember, even though he introduced us no less than three minutes ago. I also don’t remember the name of someone from somewhere’s wife, who’s still telling me about how she plans nutritious and healthy meals that are also so easy to make. She keeps saying so easy. I can’t help but tune out. Normally I’m a very good listener, but this is proving too much for me. I nod my head again. I hope I at least look interested.
Beside me, Isaac is completely immersed in his conversation. He’s motioning with his hands, as though he’s using tools, and I assume they’re talking about work. I strain to pick up on a few words of their conversation.
“…if you don’t take it I will,” Dr. Someone says.
The band starts playing louder, and I don’t hear Isaac’s response. But what I do catch is his look. His eyes dart my way. I smile and rest my hand on his lower back.
“Would you mind if I stole Isaac for a dance?” I ask.
“Go right ahead,” Dr. Someone says. He motions to the dance floor.
“Thanks, Craig.” Isaac says. “We can pick up that discussion later, if you like.”
“I’d like to. I need to know why—”
“Come on, Aubrey.” Isaac tugs on my hand and sends an apologetic smile over my head.
Dr. Someone and his wife wave. They both look bewildered.
Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book 1) Page 23