I must be smiling more than I thought I was, because she says, “What’s his name?”
“What?”
I try to feign innocence.
“How did you…?” I start to ask her.
“Because it’s written all over your face,” she says. “Monica Carrington, I haven’t seen you this happy since… well I don’t even know when.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up,” I tell her. “It was just a fling.”
“Uh huh.”
She arches her eyebrows and nods sarcastically.
“I’m serious. It didn’t mean anything, and even if we wanted it to, it couldn’t. He’s… enlisted. And he’s deploying very soon.”
“Awww, man.”
Susan seems genuinely disappointed.
“You don’t even know him!” I protest.
“I know, but I wanted to live vicariously through you.”
“Susan, you can still…”
I pause. I don’t want to go into unpleasant topics right now, so soon after returning. My brother died nearly a year ago, before Mason was even born.
I was going to say, “find love, find happiness again,” but we’ve been through all of this before. Susan is still young, and attractive when she takes care of herself, which she hasn’t done since my brother died.
I want Susan to eventually move on and be happy, but she seems to think that her life ended when my brother’s did. I’m always urging her to date, or at least set up a Match.com profile, to go to classes or get a job or do something that will take her out of the four walls of this house.
But she says she has no interest in dating. She met and married her true love and there can never be anyone else for her. And she seems to lack interest in any kind of career or even job. She was a stay at home mom, and her whole world seemed to revolve around my brother.
It’s another reason I don’t want to get too attached to anyone. I would hate to have to rely on anyone like that. But of course I never tell Susan this. She and I are just two totally different people. I love her, but I don’t always understand or agree with her choices.
“…live vicariously through me,” I finish, changing my mind as to what I was going to say.
“Well, then, out with it!” she says. “Spill the beans! Give me some gossip. All I had for entertainment during your absence were bad reality TV shows.”
“All right, but you can’t tell anyone. You must be sworn to secrecy. Both he and I could get in trouble.”
“Monica! Who am I going to tell? The only people I talk to aren’t even in school yet! And one of them can’t even talk, himself.”
I laugh.
“Well, his name’s Ramsey…”
I fill her in on our Just For One Night pact, that turned into a Just For One Night and One Morning pact, and then a Just for One Weekend pact. I tell her about all the fun we had together and how sweet he was.
“That’s awesome, Monica! I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, it was a fun couple of nights, but it’s over now.”
“Yeah right,” she says. “I wouldn’t be so sure…”
“I told you, Susan. We had a pact. We promised. No commitment. No relationship. You know I’m not the type, and he certainly isn’t…”
“You’re almost making me laugh, with this talk about some silly ‘pact,’” Susan says.
I pout, my feelings hurt.
“Don’t laugh at me!”
“It’s just such a silly concept. And you don’t seem to be realizing the irony.”
I stare at her, not comprehending what she means.
“Maybe you two felt compelled to make a pact because you knew from the beginning that this was something special, and neither of you felt prepared to handle it,” she explains, as if I’m Becky’s age.
I groan.
“Susan. That’s not how it works.”
“Oh, I know. Little Susan the naïve sister- in- law. She was only ever in love with one man. The poor little widow. She doesn’t know how men and women operate.”
“That’s not what I mean!” I protest.
“I’m just kidding,” she says. “But seriously. You’re driving me crazy with the ‘I’m not the relationship type’ talk. You have to open your heart at some point, you know? You can’t keep yourself closed off from love forever, just because of what happened with Pete.”
“This has nothing to do with Pete!” I snarl.
I can’t believe she’s dragging my last relationship into this. It dredges up memories of a love turned bitter and sad. After a while, all that Pete and I were about was his incessant quest to have a baby.
We tried every trick under the sun, until lovemaking became more about tracking ovulation times and calendar days than about love or passion. Our relationship became one of desperation, until finally the doctor said that our goal was probably impossible. I was defective; I couldn’t get pregnant.
That was it for Pete. He left me, and in retrospect I’m glad it didn’t work out between us. I began to realize that I hadn’t even wanted kids; it was mostly his idea that I just went along with. And if I had been able to have a baby, I have a feeling that he would have seen me as just a baby- making machine forever.
I’m content with my niece and nephew. I was content with my career but sometimes I start to think about what’s next.
My Bachelor of Science degree is in mechanical engineering, and I know I could probably get a job working for the Air Force in that field. I love flying, but I don’t want to be deployed again. I don’t know if Susan could take it— if she lost my brother and then me. And I have to admit that losing my brother made me re-think a lot of things about my own life. Such as how much I value it.
“Susan, I’m not trying to discount your life experience or advice,” I tell her, with a sigh. “I just don’t think you understand where I’m coming from. I’m different. I’m not like you.”
“Okay then,” she says, with a shrug. “That’s fine. But just tell me this. Why do you look so radiant, if it was only a fling? Why do you sound regretful about never seeing him again, if that’s really what you want?”
I look at her, not knowing how to answer any of these questions.
“It was really hot sex,” I say, with a smile. “That is my defense. Just because it was fun, and passionate, doesn’t mean I think it can last forever. Nor that I’d want it to.”
So there, my triumphant look tells her.
But then she gets me back.
“All right. Then tell me how it ended? How did you two say goodbye?”
I frown.
“Okay,” I admit. “I’m a little regretful about that.”
She smiles.
“I mean, I just backed off a lot. Acted kind of cool and reserved. Because I knew it was ending, and I didn’t want to show that I was kind of sad about it, and I got scared. I feel kind of bad about that. The way I left things.”
“I told you,” she says.
“But Susan, he did that to me too! Every time I thought that maybe he was actually… into me? He’d back off. Close down.”
“You two,” she groans, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “I don’t even know him, but both of you are driving me crazy.”
“I never claimed to be sane,” I say.
“Well, if you don’t like how it ended, go back and give it a new ending.”
I look at Susan, considering it. But that would be breaking the pact. Ramsey is probably relieved that I didn’t become one of those clingy girls he can’t get rid of. Hell, he’s probably already moved on to his next conquest.
“Aunt Monica!” Becky calls, saving me from my thoughts and from this difficult conversation with Susan. “Everything is all set up and I’m waiting for you to play with me…”
“Becky, don’t interrupt,” Susan starts to say, but I jump up off the couch.
“Gotta go,” I smile sweetly. “I’ve kept her waiting long enough.”
“You just don’t want to face the cold, hard truth that you’re i
n loooooooove.”
I shake my head at her and grab something out of my suitcase, before heading upstairs.
“Did you have a good time, Aunt Monica?” asks Becky, when I get to her room.
She’s wearing a pink, sequined princess dress.
“I sure did,” I tell her. “I love that dress!”
“I have one for you too.”
She gestures towards a chair at her tea table, which has a tutu and a sparkly tank top laid on top of it. It must have been Susan’s at one point, probably when she was a teenager. I hope it will fit me.
“Did you meet a boy?”
Becky’s face searches mine, innocently, as she asks the question. She must have heard her mom and me talking.
“Maybe,” I tell her, with a wink.
“A prince?”
“Maybe.”
I smile, and pull the gift bag out from behind my back.
“My present!” She shouts. “What did you get me?”
I hand her a tiara, decorated with lights and green and red chiles.
“Ooooh! A princess crown!”
“It says ‘Queen of Albuquerque,’” I tell her. “And those are chiles. In New Mexico, whenever you go to a restaurant, they ask you if you want green or red chile.”
“What are those?” she asks me.
“It’s a pepper. It’s hot, and spicy, and delicious. They cut it up and make it into a sauce.”
“Thank you, Aunt Monica!” she says, putting the tiara on her head and then running back over to sit in her chair. “I’m glad you had a hot and spicy trip!”
I sure did, I think, as I wink at my spunky, funny niece. Thanks to a certain guy I’ll never see again.
Chapter 16
2 Weeks Later
“So, are you guys ready for deployment?” Jensen asks, as he pummels a punching bag.
“Do it like this,” I tell him, trying to show him a better technique.
“I know you’re super into this shit, but I’m just here to have fun and blow off steam,” he says, and goes back to the pansy- ass way he was doing it.
I roll my eyes. Learning MMA is important to me— it’s become a way to calm down and put things into perspective, instead of freaking out. It’s the closest thing to religion that I have, other than music. But my brothers obviously don’t take it as seriously. They’re just here to humor me.
“We still have another two weeks,” Harlow says. “Before deployment, that is.”
“Yeah, you guys having fun with your month of R&R?” Jensen asks.
“I don’t know, it’s a little boring,” I say.
I go back to swinging against my own punching bag. I think about my upcoming practice fight I’ve set up against another gym member in a few days’ time. I have to get into my best fighting shape for that.
I don’t actually have real fights yet, and I likely won’t ever get there, due to my Air Force schedule and deployments. But even intramural competition gets my adrenaline running in that way that I crave, and probably need.
“What a shame for the only single one among us to be bored before he deploys,” Jensen says. “We should take you on a trip. Maybe to Vegas. Your last hurrah before you’re sent to the sand dunes.”
“I’m not sure Whitney would be too into that idea,” Harlow says, laughing. “And I only have two more weeks to spend with the missus…”
“Yeah, would Riley be okay with that?” I ask Jensen, surprised. “I know you’re not being deployed to the desert for six months like Harlow and I are, but still. A Vegas trip with your single brother?”
Jensen backs away from his punching bag and shrugs, his eye on a practice match between two other guys in the center ring.
“Oooh.” He winces as one of the guys is knocked out. “She’d probably be okay with it,” he says. “Riley’s surprisingly cool.”
“Oh sure, try to make excuses for why you broke our pact,” I tease.
“Pact?”
“You know, the one where none of us three brothers are ever going to be in any relationships? Never settle down? And then you up and get married on us.”
Harlow laughs, and chimes in.
“Jensen claims it was on our account— so that we could be at the wedding before we deploy— but that’s just a convenience excuse for a very fast wedding! You sure Riley isn’t knocked up?”
“Oh whatever,” Jensen says, taking over on the punching bag. “Like you’re one to talk. You and Whitney are practically married around.”
“Yep, my brothers fell like bullets, and I’m the only man left standing,” I say.
And I like the fact that I’m still standing, I remind myself. I’m the only sane one among us.
“That’s why you need a fun trip to Vegas,” Jensen says, undoubtedly to shift the spotlight away from himself. “Strip clubs. Gambling. Whatever.”
I shrug. A trip to Vegas doesn’t sound very appealing. I have a lot of things to do. Not to mention, Monica has still been in my thoughts, way too much. I can’t believe I managed to develop feelings for her, when she obviously doesn’t feel the same way.
“Anyway, guys,” I say, to change the subject and get my mind off her. “The reason I wanted to talk to you is that I found an assisted living home for Mom. They can take her right away.”
Harlow and Jensen exchange uneasy glances.
“Well, how did she take the news?” Jensen asks.
“That’s the thing. I need your guys’ help breaking the news to her.”
They stare at me, dubious.
“I’ve mentioned to her that I was looking around, and wanted to get her set up somewhere before I left,” I tell them. “But she doesn’t take me seriously, or maybe she just doesn’t want to. All she does is get mad and say I want to dump her in the street like garbage. I think it will be really hard for her to accept that I’m serious, so maybe you guys can help me talk some sense into her.”
“I don’t know. You’ve always been the best at dealing with Mom,” Jensen says.
I can’t believe it. These fucking wimps. They don’t want to have to put up with Mom, but they want to make me do all the work of finding other arrangements for her. And they want me to be the one to look like the bad guy when I tell her she has to move.
But then again, I guess that taking care of Mom is a duty I willingly signed up for, and have been carrying out to this day. Why would they expect it to be any different?
“I feel kind of bad for her, having to go live somewhere with strangers and all,” Harlow admits.
“Well, do you have a better idea?” I swing hard at the punching bag, feeling as if I could explode. “She runs off even while she’s staying with me, so I never know where she is. And I can’t exactly keep tabs on her from the Middle East.”
Harlow says, “Jensen, what about you and Riley? Could you maybe take her in?”
Jensen laughs, then frowns as he realizes that Harlow’s suggestion was serious.
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” he says. “Move my crazy mother in with my new bride. I can’t see any problems there.”
“Well, I did have a plan, but if you guys have something different in mind, or can come up with something soon, fine,” I tell them. “Just let me know within the next day or so, so I can let Mom know, and start making the transition. And I’d really appreciate your help with that.”
“Sure,” says Harlow, and Jensen nods too. “We’ll help you, it’s just… a big change, is all. First she’s wandering around from guy to guy, who knows where, then she’s living with you and that’s going pretty well, and now she’ll be really upset to lose her independence and freedom.”
“It’s not as if she’s earned her independence or freedom,” I tell them. “She’s still drinking, still being a drifter. Except now she always has a roof over her head when she wants to crash. I’m beginning to think I’m not doing her any favors by enabling her like this.”
“How can she still be drinking?” Harlow says, his pout reminding me of when he was
a little boy. “In your house? How can you let her?”
“She’s not exactly my dog that I can keep chained up,” I tell him. “If you and Jensen think he’ll have better luck, he’s welcome to try. But as you know, Mom has a stubborn streak and a mind of her own.”
“She sure does,” says Jensen.
None of us say anything, but I’m pretty sure we’re all having the same thought.
I guess that’s where we get it from.
Chapter 17
I’m at work when a Master Sergeant comes up to me and asks for my opinion about jet maintenance. It’s not technically my field, but I have some knowledge from college, so sometimes they ask me in a pinch.
“You just need to do that once a year or so,” I tell him, but suddenly I feel something wet and cold dripping from my nose.
“Oh my god,” I tell him, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”
“No problem.”
He runs to a supply closet and grabs some tissues, while I pinch my nostrils shut.
What the hell? I never get nose bleeds…
“Here you go,” says the Master Sergeant, handing me the box of tissues.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I appreciate it.”
“I was looking at the manual and it seemed to say something different,” he continues. “I should have brought it.”
I’m holding my nose with the tissue, pinching my nostrils tight, but he rolls up a tissue into a tiny worm- like figure and hands it to me.
“I know this is weird, but just stick this up there and leave it up there for a bit. It’s a little uncomfortable, and maybe embarrassing, but it’s really not very noticeable, and it’ll sop up the blood while stopping your nose from bleeding in no time.
“Thank you,” I tell him, impressed. “EMT training?”
A lot of military personnel have gone through it.
“Nope,” he tells me. “Just three kids.”
“Oh yeah,” I reply. “That makes sense. They must get a lot of nosebleeds between them.”
“Only now and again, when they hit each other with a baseball or something. But it’s more from the fact that my wife was pregnant three times. Each time her earliest signs were nosebleeds, which continued all throughout the pregnancies. I became an expert at helping her get rid of those pesky things.”
Sold on Valentine’s Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Page 23