by Lisa Dale
Eli shook his head, and the whole world teetered. He leaned down and clasped both of Moe’s shoulders. “No, Moe. No. Don’t you get it? It was the best thing that could have happened.”
“I don’t follow.”
He stood and looked out over the water. A fish broke the dark surface and made a splash. How could he say what he was feeling? Ever since the day Lana had first rejected him, he’d been acting like a complete coward. He’d decided he would follow her lead, would be satisfied with what she wanted and put his own desires out of his mind. Better than having his heart broken again. Better than being humiliated.
But now—all bets were off. He’d taken a good look at himself, at his worst and most pathetic self, and he saw what he was capable of, all the pain that he could make himself withstand. He’d glimpsed a strength within himself that he hadn’t known he had. He knew now that he’d gone to Ron’s not to help Lana, but to pick a fight. It had been selfish and inappropriate—he would need to apologize to Lana—but emotionally, it was exactly what he’d needed to do. All these years he’d been so afraid of not getting what he deserved that he didn’t even try to get it. He just wished it hadn’t taken getting his ass kicked to find out.
He held his beer bottle up in a toast. “I love her. Did you know that?”
“Well, we all always wondered…”
“I want her, Moe. I want her in all kinds of different ways. I’ve been pussyfooting around worrying about whether Lana is comfortable, how Lana feels, doing what Lana wants. But it’s time for Eli to get what he wants.”
“Talking about yourself in third person is not a good sign.”
“Did you hear me?” Eli held on to the back of his chair, desperately trying to make Moe understand. “I’m going after her. Even if I end up losing her, I owe it to myself to try. When I was on the ground getting the shit kicked out of me, I thought, Dude, it’s worth it. She’s worth it. Whatever it takes.”
Moe saluted him with his beer. “Well, then, it’s about time.”
Eli looked into the mouth of his bottle. “Problem is, even if I can get her into bed, I don’t know if I can get her to stay there.”
“What do you mean?”
“She might flake out again. She probably will.”
Moe reached down to set his bottle on the boards. “But you just said it yourself. You’ve spent too much time worrying about what she wants and not enough time worrying about what you want. Time’s up, man. It’s now or never. You got to jump headfirst.”
“Yes! I’ve just got to jump—” Eli stepped closer to the edge of the dock and somehow his chair ended up in the water, sinking slowly down.
“Whoa there. No jumping anywhere right now.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Never did like that chair.”
Eli watched a few bubbles rise up as the chair disappeared under the surface. He was a different man now than he’d been this morning. And yet nothing had changed. Just his own understanding of himself.
Even in his drunken muddle, it was all very clear.
August 10
On Monday morning, the store was quiet. A soft rain was falling, soaking students on their way to summer classes, old men waiting at bus stops, and the die-hard runners who sprinted daily along the shores of Lake Champlain. Lana sat alone at the counter of the Wildflower Barn, listening to the rain dance and tap on the roof. Water from a gutter outside fell and splashed thickly on the concrete before washing down into the sewers. It was going to be a slow morning.
She looked up at the sound of tires on the gravel parking lot and saw Eli’s beat-up VW pulling in. She stood, pulling her dress down to cover the bump of her belly. She was grateful it was summer because she’d grown out of every pair of her pants. Her pregnancy had hit the fifteen-week mark, and this morning was the first time in quite a while that she didn’t have the urge to throw up. Her body had become accustomed to being pregnant, even if her brain had not.
She watched through the window as he got out of his car, aware of a niggling nervousness in the back of her mind. The last time she’d talked to him, he’d accused her of jealousy, of ruining his sex life. He’d stripped away all the rules that had kept those dangerous subjects at bay. What she’d seen on his face that day had been nothing shy of full-on, unquenchable, plain-as-day lust. And she worried: Had it been a fluke attraction? A lapse in judgment? Or something more?
She took a deep breath to quiet her nerves. She had to admit that lately she’d been feeling that same fire, that heat. But so what if she felt a passing attraction toward him? It was nothing she couldn’t handle. And it would pass—as all attraction eventually passed. For all she knew, Eli might walk into the store and things would go right back to normal. There was no reason to be worried. She and Eli were solid. To stay solid, she just had to set boundaries—that was all.
Confident, she rose and walked toward the door as he pushed through it. He wore black flip-flops and khaki shorts. His T-shirt was flecked with rain, pinpricks of navy on pale blue. His eyeglasses were speckled too, and he looked at her through the lenses, focused happily on her face.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
Lana laughed, surprised but flattered. Since when did Eli notice she was beautiful? Her hair was in its customary ponytail, and a few strands had fallen out around her face and on the back of her neck. She was sure she didn’t look beautiful. But she loved his compliment just the same. “How are you?”
“Never been better,” he said, and even though they were nearly the same height, Lana had the sudden, inexplicable sense that Eli had become bigger somehow. Even if his physical size was the same, his presence was larger. How was it possible that he’d become so disconcertingly sexy? Especially since nothing visible about him had changed?
She waited for him to say something. But he only looked at her, smiling with a slight dreaminess, as if he’d just come in from the rainstorm because he’d stepped off a cloud.
All of a sudden the melancholy she’d been struggling with all morning turned into a bright and warm tenderness that spread in her chest like sunshine. Here was Eli, her Eli. There was no reason to be afraid that he would try to change things. She trusted him. They were merely having an “off” moment in their relationship. If she were a different woman, she might have rested her head on his shoulder, just to lean on him, to feel his beating heart.
She teased him. “You’re all wet.”
He chuckled, a low rumble like thunder.
Carefully, so she didn’t touch his skin, she reached up and slid his glasses from his nose. His eyes were a warm brown. If he was surprised by the action, he didn’t show it. He simply stood still, watching her, not breaking eye contact. She suddenly felt sheepish to be holding his glasses. “I’ll dry these for you,” she said.
She turned away from him quickly, glad he couldn’t see her face as she wiped his lenses with a soft tissue. She handed him back his glasses once they were dry.
“Thanks,” he said. “How you feeling?”
“Not bad. At least, physically.”
“And other than physically?”
“I’m okay.”
They walked to the counter. Shaky, Lana went around behind it to sit on a stool, and Eli leaned a hip on the Formica. She was glad for the solid three feet of countertop between them.
“I have to tell Karin,” Lana admitted.
“Yes. Soon.”
She blushed; it was obvious to both of them that her body was changing. But she was still comparatively small, and unless a person knew to look for the swelling of her belly, it was not readily apparent under her endless supply of billowy sundresses. Still, Karin needed to know.
“I… uh… I found Ron,” Eli said.
She swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected this so soon. She thought she’d have more time before she had to face him. “And?”
“I don’t think he’ll be coming to see you. I’m sorry. I tried.”
She looked at him for a long moment, knowing
she was missing something but unable to figure out what. “What do you mean, you tried?”
“I went to see him. To bring him to you.”
“You did what?”
“I’m sorry. It was wrong.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t seem like you.”
“It’s not.”
“Oh, Eli.” She sighed. Eli’s brow was furrowed in the middle and his gold-brown eyes hid nothing. He was upset. She couldn’t read him anymore quite like she used to, but she had the feeling that he was working through something big, something that may or may not have to do with her. She just wanted things to feel normal again, so when he looked into her eyes, she wouldn’t feel so swallowed up by him. “I know you were just trying to help. Did you tell him about the… you know.” She gestured toward her belly.
“No. It wasn’t my place.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me anyway. I’ll go see him myself, one of these days.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Maybe.” She changed the subject. “But in the meantime, how’s Kelly?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her.” An unreadable look passed over his face, and her heartbeat spiked.
“Is… Is everything okay?”
“We broke up. It’s more than okay.”
She blinked, taken aback by his quick confession. Her stomach fluttered with surprise—her mind racing with possible reasons for their split. She paused when she landed on one she liked. “I can probably guess why.”
“Why?”
“Because of what she did. I mean, when she came here to talk to me about the baby. That really wasn’t very nice.”
“Maybe,” he said.
She cleared her throat. “If it’s not that, then… what is it? It’s not because of me?”
He was quiet.
“Right?” she insisted. “It’s not because I got in your way again? Is it?”
“No,” he said. “It’s not that.”
She clasped her fingers, twisting them hard. She wondered if he knew how difficult this was for her, pretending it didn’t affect her that he and Kelly had broken up. It shouldn’t matter to her whether or not Eli was single. She hoped that if she kept telling herself it didn’t matter, it would start to feel true.
“Let’s not talk about this,” he said. “Kelly is old news. Out with the old. What are you doing this weekend?”
She hedged, taken aback by his abruptness yet again. When had talking to Eli become so stilted and strange? “I… I might be busy.”
“With what?”
She laughed to hide her nervousness. “I have to check my calendar.”
He came around to the same side of the counter that she was on, as if he needed to get closer to get a better view. His nearness made her oddly uneasy. She edged away.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“The pregnancy,” she said quickly, though at the moment the only thing bothering her was the warmth rising from his skin, the curve of his bottom lip, and how much she wanted to run her fingers through his rain-damp hair.
“Is that all you’re thinking about right now?”
“What else would I be thinking of?”
“You tell me.”
She couldn’t stand it. His gaze was so confident, so knowing, she feared he was looking right into her soul—like he could see the way his closeness affected her in the deepest part of her core. She needed a cold, hard dose of reality to cool her too-warm skin. “I don’t want to be a parent,” she blurted.
“No?”
“Do you think I’m lying?”
His gaze didn’t waver, but it became gentler, inquisitive. “You’ve always said you didn’t want a family. But then when little kids come into the store you’re the first person to show them the toy section. And I’ve never seen you turn down an offer to hold a newborn.”
“I like kids,” Lana said. “But that’s different than wanting to be a mom.”
“Are you sure? Is it that you don’t want to be a parent? Or you don’t think you’re capable of it?”
“Don’t think I’m capable…?” she repeated the words, trying them out. She hadn’t considered the link between wanting a family and believing herself capable of having one. Eli was suggesting that she’d gone out of her way to eradicate her own desire to have a family. By clinging to the idea that she wasn’t fit for motherhood, she’d shirked the question of whether she wanted to be a mother or not. Maybe she’d pinched off some of her emotions so she could hold fast to others—the part of herself that wanted to travel the world.
She felt him move closer, and then she saw the tips of his flip-flops were inches from the stool where she sat. He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Lana…”
She looked up, her gaze colliding with the fathomless warm brown of his irises. He didn’t say a word, but slowly, deliberately stepped closer, swallowed what distance was between them. A flame twinkled deep in her body. “What are you…?”
“Shh,” he said. Then he wrapped his arms around her, gathering her to the firm press of his chest. She giggled a little, nervous. His hands ran slowly up the length of her back. Her breasts were flush against him, the fabric of her shirt drawn tight across her nipples. She didn’t wear a bra, and she prayed that the cotton of their shirts would be enough to keep him from feeling her instant reaction.
“Thanks,” she said, and she patted his back a little to imply that the hug was done.
But he only pressed tighter, and she felt the deep inhale of his breath, the brush of cool air being swept across her skin. His fingers found the strip of naked skin above her collar, his thumb running over the bump where her back met her neck, filling her with heat and longing. She gripped his belt loop, willing her hands to stay still, to not tug his shirt and seek the smoothness of his bare back. His whole hand was in her hair, pulling enough to pinch, and it set off a warning inside her, a hot red flare. She should end this now. This was not an embrace of friendship. The desire she’d seen in Eli’s eyes hadn’t been a fluke after all. Their whole bodies were lined up, shoulders to shoulders, belly to belly, hips to hips.
She pulled back, but he didn’t let her move away completely. He was staring at her intensely, his two hands firmly on her waist. His eyes, normally so open and friendly, were guarded and dark. She’d never felt more conscious of her lower lip in her entire life.
Finally he let her go. His hands fell reluctantly to his sides. She missed him already, her skin crying out for that closeness again. She couldn’t look at him; she knew her cheeks were flushed. This was the reason he’d broken up with Kelly: she knew. This was a chemistry that could not be neutralized or undone. But if she gave in to the desires of her body, her heart would forfeit its desire; to keep the best friend she’d ever known.
“I’m going away soon.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, a frisson of worry snaking through her gut. She was used to his coming and going, but each time he left she felt the same illogical fear that he might not return. In the past, she’d consoled herself by reminding herself of her own future full of independent travels. But she wasn’t sure that future existed anymore.
“Are you busy on Saturday?”
Lana got the organic citrus cleaner from under the counter and started to wipe down the countertop—not that it needed cleaning. She just needed something to do with her hands.
“Why do you ask?”
“I thought we might do something before I leave.”
She scrubbed in big circles with false concentration. “I don’t know yet.”
“Why not? Do you have better plans?”
“No,” she said, feeling oddly competitive. “Do you?”
“No,” he said.
She waited for him to say more. He didn’t.
She began to work the fingerprints off the edge of the counter. “What’d you have in mind?”
“The planetarium has a new show. It’s a tour of the univers
e set to the music of David Bowie.”
Lana knew what the planetarium entailed: children kicking the back of her seat, greasy armrests, stomach-flipping graphics of nebulas, galaxies, and black holes. She loved it. But with her skin still tingling where his fingers had threaded into her hair, she was afraid to tell him yes. “Can we just play it by ear?”
“I guess so.” He smiled, but she knew him well enough to see there was a tinge of frustration behind it.
She simply couldn’t figure out her best friend these days.
Perhaps she never would.
August 19
Karin pulled into the dusty parking lot of the hot-dog place and wondered if Andy had good news or bad. He’d called her a few hours ago and asked to meet her here, far from the Wildflower Barn, so far that she’d gotten a leg cramp on the way over. Now she sat nervously in her parked car, listening to the stock market report on the radio. The sun glared on her windshield, making her skin feel sticky and flushed.
Fifteen minutes later, she was ready to give up when she saw Andy pull in, get out of his car, and walk toward her. Though older than her husband, he carried himself as if he was stacked with muscle, his elbows slightly bent beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. He went around to the passenger door, and she didn’t want to insult him so she popped the lock.
“Hey.” He climbed into the car, smiling. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too.”
He sat and leaned toward her, and for a moment she didn’t understand what he was doing. Oh, right. He wanted to kiss her cheek, but he couldn’t quite reach across the seats. She had no choice but to lean in his direction and accept the greeting. His cologne was strong.
“How’s things?” he asked.
She glanced out the window toward the lip of gravel where the parking lot fed into the oil-stone road. In the twenty-five minutes that she’d been waiting, not one other car but his had pulled in. The lights in the ancient hot-dog joint shone dimly, but no one was banging down the door for a table. In fact, the place might have been entirely empty. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end.
Andy was a cop, she reminded herself. He was sworn to protect and serve. She was fine.