One to Tell the Grandkids

by Kristina M Sanchez

  Taryn’s irritated expression melted as she hunched in on herself. Her shoulders dipped, and she crossed her arms over the bulge of her belly, uncertainty and fear tinging her features. She glanced at Slate. “All of us?”

  “Yes,” Slate said at the same time Caleb said, “No.”

  Caleb leveled a stare at his friend. “No,” he repeated.

  Slate’s cheek twitched. “Are you going to be a prick?”

  Probably, Caleb thought but didn’t say.

  “I’ll be okay, Slate,” Taryn said. She gulped audibly, her look careful as her eyes found Caleb’s. “He’s right. We need to talk alone.”

  Slate didn’t look happy about it, but he jerked his head in a nod. “Fine. I’ll be in the living room,” he said as he walked ahead of them into the house.

  Caleb and Taryn followed at a slower pace. He let her go ahead, and he didn’t know if it was worse when she headed down the hallway to her bedroom. Was he really going to do this in the room they’d spent so many happy hours in?

  The dread that puddled in the pit of Caleb’s stomach grew heavier with each footfall down the hallway. In his head, he was lamenting each wrong turn and choice that, with the clarity of hindsight, he should never have made, not if it brought them to this moment. Slate was right. If Taryn had been an ex-girlfriend of his, Caleb wouldn’t have even thought about going near her. But she hadn’t been an ex-girlfriend. She’d been a ship passing in the night that got stranded at low tide.

  Slate was right about another thing. Their places were normally switched. Slate was good at getting himself in tricky situations, with Caleb off to the side advising him and wondering how the heck he hadn’t seen this coming. He didn’t like this switch at all.

  Once in her room, Caleb wandered automatically to one side of the bed, his side of the bed. He reached out and fingered the edge of his e-reader, his eyes touching on the contents of the pockets he’d emptied only a couple nights before. Thirty-seven cents in change, a rubber band, and a business card. He’d turned out his pockets before he climbed into bed beside her, taking her in his arms easily. Was he really going to let that go, let her go? He flexed his fists at his sides.

  “I’m sorry about Slate,” she said.

  Caleb raised his head, confused.

  “I asked him. About Trinity.” She wrung her hands. “That’s how he figured out about us.”

  “Trinity isn’t your business.” There was a small voice, much smaller than the furious one that rang in his ears and seemed to be controlling his tongue, that knew damn well he had no right to snap at Taryn. As it was, though, he was steeped in regret and conflicted over what he wanted. He was helpless, and helplessness fueled his fury. “If there were something I wanted you to know about her, I’d have told you.”

  Insecurity drained from her features as her eyes narrowed. The atmosphere around them shifted becoming something dark and threatening. “Oh, well, excuse me for being curious. I remember what you said months ago about your tattoo, you know. You got it because you needed something permanent. Then Slate accidentally mentioned how you used to know a girl, a kid named Trinity. It’s a trinity knot, and pretty much the only thing you won’t talk about. Who wouldn’t be curious?”

  “It’s none of your business,” he said again, his tone harsh.

  Her glare sharpened, and she took a breath, looking like she was about to argue. Just as quickly, the fight went out of her. Her shoulders hunched inward. “What if . . .” She closed her eyes and then opened them, looking up at him. “What if I want it to be my business?”

  Caleb’s head spun, his anger dissipating in a flash, the flame deprived of oxygen. Desire hit him with a strength that made him sway where he stood. So easy. She was right there in front of him, and he wanted nothing as much as he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her just as senseless as he was. He could have it. He could have her.

  He took a step toward her and stopped, breathing as though through sand. It filled his lungs, chafing his insides, leaving him raw. He repeated the same thing he’d told Slate. “I can’t.” It was impossible.

  Taryn shrunk backward. “I don’t—”

  “It’s not fair,” Caleb continued quickly, talking over her before she could ask the wrong questions. There was no way to explain the situation without it coming out all wrong. “You and Slate—”

  “There’s no me and Slate. You know that.”

  “That’s not what I meant. This should be about the two of you and the baby. You’re still a unit. You’re still learning how to be a family. Have you even thought about how complicated your situation is?”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “Complicated? I don’t know what you’re talking about. We live in different cities, each have jobs we like, and family and friends in our separate spaces. Slate lives with people who come and go at all hours of the night, who sometimes party too hard. And I’m not judging—they’re young—but it’s not exactly a great place to have a baby. I have room for a baby, but I’ve been struggling to maintain my place since I lost my roommates almost a year ago. I’ve heard these things”—she splayed her hand over her belly—“require a lot of upkeep, and they aren’t great at paying rent. No, Caleb. No, I haven’t considered how complicated this all it as at all.”

  “Exactly.” In a moment of madness, Caleb was legitimately irritated at her for not rebuffing his advances in the first place. “You want to add this”—he gestured between them—“to all that? I live in LA. There are things I’ve been putting off for years because I needed to be here for Annie.”

  Her jaw worked. “That’s it, then? You’ve got better things to do?”

  “No!” He turned away from her, pacing a step in one direction then the other. “The timing is all wrong. It’s too complicated.”

  She was quiet, and when he finally summoned enough courage to look at her, he found he couldn’t read the expression on her face. She breathed in through her nose and out again before she took a steady step toward him. Caleb stepped back as she got closer. His heart sped. He wondered if she was going to hit him or kiss him. Neither would have surprised him, and he didn’t know which he preferred. She did neither. Instead, she reached past him and picked his e-reader up from the nightstand. “Here,” she said, her tone flat and even. “Maybe you’re right. If you’re not brave enough to face a few complications, it’s not worth even talking about.”

  He could feel the heat of her body on his skin, she was standing so close. Every muscle in his body was tensed, poised for fight or flight. He could pull her to him then. He could kiss her and prove to her he knew how to fight. For the space of five of his too-quick heartbeats, he thought he was going to do it.

  Then he turned, e-reader held to his chest, and strode from the room without another word.

  Slate was waiting for him in the living room. He had two plastic bags in his hands. His things, Caleb realized dimly. Slate had gathered the various Caleb-related paraphernalia that had migrated over in the five weeks they’d been together. His friend didn’t speak as Caleb reached for the bags. He didn’t have to. The disappointment and anger in his eyes was worse than words. Still, Caleb paused as though he was going to say something, though he had no idea what.

  The door to Taryn’s room slamming made both men jump. With one final glare, Slate headed down the hallway and Caleb out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I know it feels horrible right now, but this part gets better. You know that saying—the course of true love never did run smooth and all that.” Mel was trying to be helpful, but Taryn wasn’t having it.

  “You’re quoting a Shakespearian play in which a human turned into a donkey. You know that, right? True love.” Taryn scoffed. “Maybe it is a good fit. I’m an ass. Like it wasn’t enough to deal with a surprise pregnancy with a complete stranger, I had to bang his best friend.” She groaned. “God, it sounds so tawdry.” She put her hands over her eyes and wiped away the tears that had managed to escape.

  Mel
rubbed her back. “It’s a little Springer-esque.”

  “I don’t understand why it has to be, though. Slate and I were never together. He’s fine with it. Why?” Taryn shook her head and straightened up. “Whatever. It’s not like Caleb and I were together either. He never promised me anything.”

  “The wise thing would have been to talk about it sometime in the, what, five weeks you played house? But who does that, anyway? Think things through. Pfft. If I ever meet a person who thinks everything through and does the wise thing every time, I’m calling The X-Files because I guarantee you they’ll be an alien. Humans aren’t built that way.” She gave Taryn a hug. “He was giving you mixed signals.”

  “The X-Files doesn’t exist.”

  “You bite your tongue.”

  Taryn smiled. Mel’s simple acknowledgement that she wasn’t crazy for seeing something more between her and Caleb helped.

  Rob emerged from the kitchen then and plopped down on her other side, handing over one of the glasses in his hand. Wary, Taryn brought the glass of dark red liquid close and sniffed. “There’s alcohol in this.”

  “It’s wine. Anyone who’s turned on a television knows a pregnant woman can have a glass of wine every once in a while, let alone once a pregnancy.” He offered the glass again. “Since we can’t get you drunk, at least enough to take the edge off.”

  Taryn took a long drink. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch, willing the uncomfortable knot in her throat down. “I think the rejection is bullshit, but I can almost get behind it. Almost. He said Slate is his friend, and he thinks this should be about the three of us—Slate, me, and Rory.”

  “See, this is what I mean by mixed signals.” Mel stabbed the air with her finger as she spoke, heated up on Taryn’s behalf. “That is not a clear rejection. That’s not the same as ‘we’re incompatible’ or ‘I don’t want to date you.’ That’s a ‘come back later and try again’ response.”

  “That’s the thing I can’t let go. There’s no finality to it. I missed something.” She put her free hand to her chest, and her lower lip trembled. “And it hurts. It’s like, you know, when you know you’re going to get a promotion at work. You just know it, and then you’re shocked as hell when they pull someone else into the office?”

  Mel and Rob both nodded.

  “Except a billion times more painful.” Like a one, two, three sucker punch to her gut, her chest, and her head for good measure. Her stomach was in knots, her heart ached, and her thoughts were so rattled, she may as well have taken a blow to the head.

  Rob took the now empty wine glass from her hand and set it on the table before wrapping her up in a bear hug. “Forget about him, sweetheart. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Who needs to think about a stupid guy, anyway?”

  Taryn tilted her head, considering. “I wonder if that’s one of the reasons I’ve been putting off settling things with Slate.” She sighed. “He was so sweet to me after Caleb left. Why couldn’t it have been him I felt this way for? I wasn’t looking to fall in love, but if it had to happen, why not my baby’s father? He’s sweet and smart. He loves Rory. He’s been good to me.”

  “There are a lot of guys who are sweet and smart,” Mel said. “Love isn’t supposed to make sense.”

  “That’s kind of one of the things,” Rob said. “If it makes too much sense, that’s your first indication something is wrong.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just play the game.”

  Taryn crossed her arms and leaned into his embrace. “I didn’t want to play the game. I didn’t even want to be in the stadium. Hell, I didn’t want to be stuck in the traffic around the stadium.”

  “Whoa. It’s a good thing we already cut you off. Too much wine has you making bad sports references.” Rob kissed her forehead. “You’re going to be fine. Mel and I told you from the beginning, we’re here for you. That much you can count on.”

  In a moment of weakness the week before escrow closed on his house, Caleb returned one of his father’s many phone calls. He tried to convince himself of his own benevolence, that he was calling for John’s sake, but in truth, he was lonely. It was the kind of loneliness that ached like a broken bone. It was a marrow-deep hurt that hobbled him.

  A phone call led to dinner, where Caleb told his father he planned to hire movers.

  “The hell you will,” John said. “That’s not necessary when you have family.”

  “What are you talking about? You have a bad back. You can’t help lift anything.”

  “No. That’s the whole point of having younger siblings.”

  It took Caleb a few heartbeats to figure out whom John was talking about. “I hardly know your stepkids.”

  “Maybe it’s about time you changed that. They’re good people. They’ve wanted to get to know you better for a long time. I think they’d love you, and you’d love them if you gave them a chance.” He leaned forward with his arms on the table. “Can I say something honest? An observation made without judgment?”

  Caleb raised an eyebrow and waited in wary expectation.

  “You like playing the martyr. Not that you enjoy it, but you seem to think it’s the only way you can get a point across. It’s not a sacrifice of your principles to stop denying yourself what you need.”

  “You think I need you?”

  “Hell yes I think you need me. You need your family. Don’t say it.” He held his hands up.

  “Say what?”

  “You were going to say your sister needed me, and you’re right. I wasn’t a good father to your sister in the end. I wasn’t what she needed me to be. It’s not something I’m proud of.” John looked at him. “But I’ve done my best to do right by you. I’m not trying to give you excuses, but one of the things I struggled with was how little I could do for Ann.”

  He gave Caleb a small, if sardonic, smile. “You are a whole different kind of frustration. You’re right here in front of me, and you won’t let me help. You don’t have to be alone. You have a family. Me, Mary, the kids. We’re all here for you.”

  “All right. Fine. You’re here for me,” Caleb said dismissively. He looked down at his menu, but his father wasn’t done.

  “You know, I’m pretty far from perfect, but I’m not a horrible person, and I’m the only father you’re going to get. Anyway, whatever you think of me, Mary and the kids are great. Mary is on your side, even. You have no idea how many arguments we had over your sister.”

  That cut through Caleb’s defenses. “Really?”

  “I realize in this case vindication doesn’t carry any satisfaction, but it’s nice to have someone agree with you, anyway. Right?”

  Caleb rubbed his temples. There was a lot he could have said. John was attempting to inject a bit of humor into a situation that wasn’t at all funny. But Caleb was tired. He was tired of the same argument. There was a loud voice in his head reminding him of all the days he spent with Ann, telling himself when his sister was finally at rest, he would walk away from his father and never look back. Sitting in front of him, Caleb could acknowledge he didn’t want to walk away. He was still angry. No amount of apologies from his father could sate that anger, could make that right, but neither would putting him in his place.

  When Caleb didn’t speak, John went on. “Let us help you move, son.”

  Caleb’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a small chuckle. “You’re begging me to let you help me move. You know how wrong that is?”

  John grinned. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth no matter how pissed you are at him.”

  “How can I argue with that?”

  Two weeks after their pseudo-breakup, Caleb was having a terrible time getting over Taryn. He’d been looking forward to moving day for one reason only: it would be a respite from the constant self-recrimination. His heart hurt, and he had no one to blame for it but himself. He knew that. So he was looking forward to the white noise of heavy liftin
g.

  It was the first time Caleb had interacted with his stepfamily without already being irritated. His appreciation allowed him to see them in a new light. John was right; Caleb’s stepsiblings were engaging and nice. They didn’t seem to mind being asked to help. His stepmother, Mary, was great. She did, however, have the knack all mothers seemed to have perfected to hone in on exactly the thing Caleb didn’t want to talk about.

  “So how’s that girlfriend of yours doing? She must be huge by now.”

  Mary’s casual words had all the effect of a stone slab being piled on his chest. Caleb swallowed down the lump that rose to his throat. “She’s not my girlfriend, but yes, she’s getting pretty big.”

  “The last trimester is the worst, poor thing.” Mary settled a box on the growing pile in the living room and headed back out to the truck with him. “She’s really not your girlfriend?”

  Another slab. “No.”

  “Ever thought about it?”

  Only constantly for a while now. “She’s pregnant with my best friend’s baby.”

  Mary hummed. “And yet that isn’t a no.”

  Caleb opened his mouth, but the lie wouldn’t come. He sighed and shut it again, moving to pick up the next box.

  “It’s just that you made such a good team that day. The fun stuff is the easy part. Partnership is harder.” She huffed as she put her box down. “She’s nothing like that other woman was.”

  At that Caleb had to laugh. It was a wry, tired sound. He wiped at his brow and looked down at the ground. “No, Taryn isn’t anything like Lisa. Then again, Lisa wasn’t anything like the woman you remember, not when I met her. I knew a different side of her. There were good things about her, too.”

  “There are good things about everyone.”

  “Yes. She was different when I first met her, or maybe I was just delusional. Needy.” Again he laughed and rubbed at his eyes. “This is not something you’re supposed to do twice in one lifetime. I met Lisa not long after my sister was diagnosed, and I got with Taryn when she died.”