Easy Love

by Piper Lawson

  The clinking of glasses in the background, the quiet music, are the only sounds besides the thudding of my heart.

  He flinches.

  In Wes-speak it’s practically a slap.

  My heart is cracking even before he speaks. “You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that. When I was in Seattle, it was all I could think about. Right now…” His haunted gaze meets mine. “I can’t even think about us. And it hurts to say those words because they’re selfish. But they’re also true, and you deserve the truth.”

  A deep ache starts in my ribs. He cares about me. About us. He has to, I see it in the way he looks at me. The way he has my back. Every time he touches me.

  But right now, it’s as if Wes’s entire world is as bleak and gray as the skies outside.

  “I get it, Wes. You need some time.”

  Wes lifts the cocktail to his lips. I expect him to down this one too, but instead, he takes a sip, then sets it on the table. “It’s possible. Or maybe this is who I am, and I can’t pretend to be something else, even if I wish it was true. I don’t want to promise something I can’t promise. Because you, Josephine Elizabeth Serena Crawford, have everything to give another person. And you deserve better than to wait around for someone. You deserve everything.”

  I don’t want everything, I want to say. I want you.

  I fight the tears, watching defeat and agony and bitterness dance through his eyes.

  I don’t touch him again, because if I do, it’s over. I won’t ever leave.

  But I won’t beg. Not even for Wes.

  I won’t try to change his mind, or tell him I hate the thought of not being with him, or that he’s being completely irrational.

  Because Wes is smart and he knows all of it.

  Which makes this hurt that much worse.

  “Excuse me.”

  I head for the bathroom, keeping my head held high. A throat clearing behind the bar has me pausing midway there.

  “Are you leaving, Miss Crawford?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Are you and Dr. Robinson finished?”

  I feel Wes’s gaze heavy on me, but when I turn toward him, he’s back in the chair, staring at the fire.

  “I hope not.”

  The bartender clears his throat. “I meant with your drinks.”

  “Oh.” I rub the corner of my eye. “I am. But get him whatever he wants for as long as he wants.”

  27

  Wes

  “Wesley. You sublet my apartment to a dozen grad students to earn double what I’m charging you in rent yet?”

  It’s nearly midnight here when my friend, whose apartment I’m in, calls.

  “I only found five. Barely breaking even. How’s Australia?”

  “Hot as hell. You know there’re snakes here? Big ones?”

  “I heard a rumor.” I stop folding laundry long enough to switch on my headphones, sticking the phone back in my pocket.

  “How’s your dad doing?” he asks.

  “He died. Ten weeks ago.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

  At the risk of sounding melodramatic, everything sucks.

  It’s been five days since I got back from Seattle, and in that time, I’ve been going to class, but I’m a robot.

  Even Beck knows something’s up. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’m leaving after the semester.

  Not leaving. Being replaced.

  Because Terry Crawford’s made it abundantly clear my time at Baden is over.

  “I heard you interviewed at UW.” I snap back to the present. “Figured I’d call to see if you were planning to move out.”

  “I didn’t get it.” I cross to the bedroom window and glance toward the ground. I can barely see it, but on a Sunday, with the sudden cold spell that’s come over the city, I know the streets will be quiet. “Let’s not talk about me. I can live vicariously through you. You’re on sabbatical, living it up.”

  “If it makes you feel better, getting the job is only the start. Once you get in, you’ve got five more years of busting your ass for tenure.”

  “You made it.”

  “Yeah, and I ended up getting divorced over it.” He chuckles, and I wonder if I imagine the bitterness in his voice.

  “But now you’re on a beach in Sydney.” Every seven years, my friend gets a year off to do something abroad. It seems like the perfect lifestyle.

  “Alone.” He sighs. “What are you going to do?”

  “Find another academic job.” I’ve sorted out the issue with the journal—I think—and am trying to get my article published in a later edition. “I know I’m off the hiring cycle, but there’s always next year.”

  “I’ll put out some feelers. Ask around.”

  “Thanks.” It doesn’t make me feel any better.

  Once, I wouldn’t have let the setback deter me. I’d have kept going until I got what I wanted, no matter what.

  But now I’m questioning whether I even still want what I told myself I wanted all those years.

  “Know what I miss?” my friend muses. “Being a grad student. Screwing around in the lab, doing experiments, learning it all for the first time.”

  I turn it over in my mind. “You miss having no money and no power.”

  He laughs. “Sounds twisted, right? Here’s the thing—the faces change, but there’s always someone giving you heat. Telling you you’re not good enough. There should be a PSA before you start.”

  “Saying what?”

  “Academia’s for overachieving self-flagellators only.”

  “What the hell is that?” I bark.

  I’m not the only one.

  The golden retriever greeting me at the door bellows in my direction as if he grew up in this house and I did not. My mom pulls on the creature’s neck, and I squeeze into the foyer.

  “It’s a dog from work. I’m fostering him.” My mom shuts the door, then pulls back to look at me.

  I unlace my boots, and she takes my coat. Then I follow her into the living room.

  “I already ordered the sushi,” she says, dropping into her chair. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  I sink onto the couch. The dog sticks its nose under my hand, forcing me to pet it. I let my head fall back onto the top of the couch, squeezing my eyes shut. There’s a reason I came, and it’s not for dynamite rolls and tempura shrimp.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “What is it?” When I open my eyes, she leans in, her brows pulling together.

  “I’m trying to pay off everything. Dad’s funeral, the hospital bills, plus my debt from school.

  “It’s why I’ve been trying to sell this DNA site. I thought I had a buyer, but he passed. I’ll get it paid off. It’ll just take a little longer.”

  “How much?”

  I tell her. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Oh, Wesley, honey.” She comes to sit next to me on the couch.

  “I had plans,” I say as if it’s an excuse, “and nothing happened the way it was supposed to.”

  “There’s no supposed to. There’s only what is. We’ll figure it out.” She squeezes my knee while scratching the dog with her other hand.

  My gaze drops. “What’s with the dog?”

  “Someone found him by the river, underfed and no collar. We want to ensure he’s housebroken and knows some basic commands before we place him in a forever home.”

  “Sit,” I tell the dog.

  It wags its tail at me, panting.

  “We were calling him Ryan, but I think his name is Bucket.” I raise a brow, and she sighs. “One day I said ‘Fuck it!’ and he came running.” The dog barks and my mom goes on. “I realized when Rena was here talking about her skunk that there’s no reason I can’t have a pet in the house. How is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  My moms mouth forms an o, bigger than when I dropped the news about the bills. “Don’t tell me
you broke up.”

  I don’t bother protesting that we weren’t dating.

  It’s moot. I haven’t talked to Rena in almost two weeks. Two weeks of teaching class, of coaching debate, of working out with Jake at the club, of trying to get my paper back in order at the lab…

  And in that time, it’s been sinking in how much I’ve come to rely on her.

  How much I fucking miss her.

  My moms perplexed voice drifts into my dark thoughts. “I’ve never seen you look at a girl the way you looked at her. I was starting to forget what it looked like to see you smile.”

  “It was never going to work. I was supposed to be going to Seattle. She wasn’t looking for a relationship in the first place.”

  But she was in the end, I remind myself. I’ve replayed her saying she loved me again and again, mostly when I’m alone unable to sleep.

  Mostly to torture myself.

  Because even though I want to know space is the right thing for both of us, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  “Relationships aren’t perfect, Wesley. Your father’s and mine wasn’t. In fact, before his cancer returned, we considered separating. It was a matter of time. But we discussed it, and we still cared and respected each other, and I wanted to be here for him through the end.”

  My eyes burn. “You only stayed together because he got sick?”

  “We stayed together because caring looks different all the time, on everyone. I don’t regret it. If you wait for it to look perfect, or normal, or easy, you’ll be waiting forever.” She squeezes me in a hug. “I know things have been hard these past months. But your father loved you, and he’d be so proud of you.” I swallow. “He wouldn’t care about your job. He’d care about the man you’ve become.”

  Something wet accosts my hand, and I glance down at the beast eager to get in on the affection.

  “You should probably just keep the dog,” I mutter. “You’ll have a hard time finding a family to call him Bucket.”

  28

  Rena

  “Hello?” I call as I make my way up the steps of the tour bus.

  “Hey!” The freckled face greeting me is accompanied by a squeal.

  “Child, you keep getting more gorgeous.” Annie beams. “Haley back there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Another form emerges. This one’s rangy, with glowing amber eyes and “it’s naturally this messy” hair. This form I recognize from posters and the internet, and later from campaigns.

  “Jax.” I hug the biggest rock star in the world because he’s marrying my friend.

  “What’s in there?” He nods at the giant bag slung over my shoulder.

  “Top secret. Girls only.”

  Haley emerges from the back, a teenager in tow.

  “Hi, Tyler,” I say.

  “Hey there.”

  He checks me out. Flushes as though he knows he got caught. Hormones.

  I raise a brow in Haley’s direction because the attitude’s new and I think his voice has dropped an octave since I saw him last.

  His hair hasn’t changed though. That’s been shades of blue, pink, or green for as long as I’ve known him.

  “Annie,” I say, “Haley and I have some wedding planning to do. Do you want to come with us?”

  Her gaze has cooled since I came in. “I think I’ll pass.”

  I follow Haley down the steps of Jax’s tour bus and unlock the car. “What happened in there?”

  “Annie’s got a thing for Tyler.”

  “He’s what, two years older?”

  “And he sings and plays guitar.” I shake my head. “I’ll still be here when she decides hoes over bros is the way to go.”

  Haley laughs, sliding into the car next to me. I put it into gear and start toward our destination.

  “Can I confess something? I’m already slightly regretting allowing you to throw me an engagement party,” Haley says.

  “It’s not a party. It’s barely brunch. And just a small group. Lita. Wendy. Annie, of course. Half a dozen others.” I scratch my head as we drive to a restaurant close by, a pub we used to frequent. “Actually, given the kid is going to be there, some of your gifts might not be group appropriate.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Serena…”

  “I’m going to give you part of your engagement gift now. It’s in my bag.”

  She turns to the back seat, rummages through my bag, and pulls out a pink-and-gold package. Then she tugs at the bow, unwraps the book, and stares at the cover. “It’s a sex book.”

  “It’s an original edition of one of the most revered sex books of all time,” I correct.

  My friend surprises me not by flushing, but by opening the cover and studying the pages. “You think I’m not good? Or that Jax isn’t? Because I can promise you at least one of us is.”

  I shake my head as we swing through the doors, and I point at a booth at the back where we can spread out.

  “So I picked up some samples on the way into town,” I say, unpacking the materials from my bag.

  Haley’s eyes widen as she looks at them. “You did all this?”

  “Yup. We’ve got flowers, linens… oh, and this is a swatch of the lace from your dress. I got it from the boutique. But first we need to nail down the numbers.” I rummage through my bag. “I started working on a guest list…”

  I produce it, and she scans the numbers, wide-eyed. “Five hundred?”

  “And that’s the short list,” I insist. “Haley, Jax is a celebrity. This is basically a royal wedding, minus Westminster Abby and the horses. Although there can be horses.”

  “It’s too much.”

  “Fine, no horses.”

  “No, I mean this. Everything you’re doing. You’re a great friend.” The numbness thaws a little at the gratitude on her face, but I see concern there too. “How are things with Wes?”

  And the thaw is gone, replaced by stabbing pain.

  “I haven’t seen him.” I fix the hair that’s falling out of my ponytail, which is suddenly the most important thing in the world. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to bum you out.”

  “Tell me,” she says automatically.

  “Wes went out for this job in Seattle. He didn’t get it, but it completely freaked him out.” Even replaying our last meeting in my mind makes my chest constrict until I’m not sure I can breathe. “He wanted space. We haven’t talked in weeks.”

  At least I’ve had work and Haley’s wedding to throw myself into.

  “I’m so sorry. What about the work you were doing together? The DNA dating thing?”

  A fresh kind of guilt washes over me. “We thought we found someone to buy it, but it fell through. The guy decided it wasn’t far enough along. Which is probably on me. I didn’t do a good enough job communicating what it is, and what it could be.”

  “So this guy told Wes no. And Wes told you no. The Serena I remember doesn’t do ‘no.’”

  I shift forward onto my elbows, ignoring the papers I’m messing up along the way. “Haley, the Serena you remember wasn’t way out of her depth. This love thing? I know it looks good on you and Jax, but I’m starting to think you’re an exception. For the rest of us, it sucks.”

  Haley bites into a french fry, looking thoughtful. “Are you forgetting the part where I walked away? Or when Jax wouldn’t speak to me for...” She shudders, “way too long?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “But some part of me never gave up. When Jax and I were separated, it stopped me seeing him, but it didn’t stop me loving him.

  “He couldn’t control me, or what I did, or how I felt. Wes can’t make you stop loving him, if that’s what you want.”

  “That sounds like it hurts.”

  Haley sighs. “What’s the alternative? You decide not to care about him? It does hurt. But without the rain, there’s no sun. If you’re not willing to let it hurt, you don’t get the good stuff on the other side. And trust me.” Her smile is kind and real and wise all at on
ce. “It’s good stuff.”

  I turn it over in my mind. “Do you think your computer friend at Penn would help me with something?”

  Haley blinks. “Um. I’ll help you with it.”

  “No way. You’re famous and planning a wedding.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  I’m back in the city in time for dinner Sunday.

  Tonight it’s a roast, with cauliflower for my mom and dad (the one thing they agree on is being heart conscious) and potatoes for Beck and me.

  Except Beck’s not there.

  “He’s at a friend’s. Or something,” my mother offers dismissively.

  Not that it matters, because they’re arguing before the first half a glass of wine.

  “Terry, you need to be at this fundraiser breakfast,” she insists, holding up her phone as if he can read it from the other end of the table.

  “I’m giving a talk at the hospital.”

  “I told you about this weeks ago.”

  “You say you’re busy with this big case, but it sounds like you’re spending a lot of time doing other things.”

  The bickering is getting to me. Every word has me stabbing at my potatoes as I drink my wine. Can’t they think about something other than themselves for once?

  Eventually, I set down my fork. “Stop it.”

  My parents freeze midsentence.

  “I get that you’re not perfect,” I say. “None of us are. But would it kill you to pull your heads out of your drama for five minutes?” They stare at me, so I keep going. “A month ago, all you could talk about were Beck’s problems. Now you don’t even know where he is, and it’s like you don’t care.”

  “I’m here,” Beck says, stalking in, still wearing his jacket. “I just got my schedule for next semester. Wes isn’t on it.”

  My father doesn’t blink. “Dr. Robinson’s moving on from Baden.”

  “To what?” I ask sharply.

  “Beck, sit down,” my mother says.

  He waves her off. “Wes is the best teacher I’ve ever had.”

  “Beckett, for God’s sake, eat something.”