“I … I came to see you.”
“Me? You came to see me? Why?”
It takes everything I have, every ounce of control in all my muscle fibers, not to pull her into my arms and kiss her perfect lips.
“Why wouldn’t I have?”
“It’s been so long. Why now?” she asks.
And when I go to answer her, the little girl, the one who was running around in circles, comes teetering up to us, yelling, “Mama, Mama, poopie, poopie. Nowwwww.”
Andi gives me a look that’s somewhere between desperation and apologetic. My thoughts are the scrambled eggs I couldn’t stomach this morning.
“I’m sorry, Chase.”
I watch as she grabs the child, picks her up, and carries her across the street at a run. Next thing I know, the dude comes over to me and says, “Kids, you never know when they gotta go.” He follows with the other child, leaving me to stare after them.
The scene nails me in the heart. Andi’s a mother, and clearly that guy is the dad. The two add up to a family and that seals my decision. With hands stuffed in my pockets, I head back to the little rental. I need to get the fuck out of Chicago. All the plans I hoped for are lost. She’s got her own life and there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to screw anything up for her.
Seven
Andi
Owen makes the girls hot chocolate with milk while I race back outside. Chase is nowhere to be found on the sidewalk or at the park across the street. I move quickly to the busy end of the street and check there. He’s gone and my heart sinks. I pull my phone from my pocket, but then I realize I don’t have his number. When he permanently moved overseas, he’d gotten a new one.
I feel physically sick as I walk back to my apartment. Having no other choice, I call my brother, Mark.
“Hey, stranger,” he says by way of greeting.
“I deserve that.”
Before he can answer, a female voice in the background says, “Hey, babe, come back to bed.”
“Is that Riley? You guys weren’t …” I can’t even finish. Images of my brother and his girlfriend naked only make me want to gag.
“Having sex?” he asks, chuckling.
“I don’t want to know.”
“I can tell you I might not have answered the phone if it was anyone but you.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t hear from my sister that often. So when I do, I have to wonder if there’s an emergency.”
I sigh. “I’m not that bad.”
“Really, I haven’t seen you in two years, Andi. Two years. It’s not like you live on the other side of the world.”
I cover my eyes. “I know I owe you an explanation. But I need to explain to someone else first.”
“Who? Mom and Dad?”
“Not exactly. Look, I don’t want to keep you from Riley.” I can hear her cajoling him back to bed in the background. “Do you have Chase’s number?”
“Riley probably does. But she’s not in a position to get her phone.”
I get his meaning and push a hand through my hair.
“Yeah, no explanation,” I say before he can add details. “Can you text it to me when you get a chance?”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
Over two years ago, I felt like a lone survivor on an island until Owen showed up. I’ve wanted to be strong to prove to myself I could handle my life—my choices—without help. But it’s cost me. Seeing Chase reminded me how my decisions have separated me from the people I love.
“I will. I promise. Just get me the number.”
He’s silent for so long, I glance at the phone to see if we got disconnected. When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with too much emotion.
“I want you to know that I’m here for you, sis. I don’t care that we don’t share blood. I love you and you can trust me. I’ll help you through whatever is going on.”
My eyes burn and my throat seizes up. I croak out my next words. “I know. And I love you too. I promise we’ll have a long talk soon.”
After we hang up, I walk back to my apartment, replaying the look on Chase’s face. Had he been surprised to see me, disappointed, shocked? So many things played over his beautiful face, I can’t begin to figure out why he’d come. More than that, how had he found me? I shake my hands like they have goop on them. There is so much I need to explain to him.
I take a deep breath before I use my key to enter Owen’s apartment.
“Everything okay?” he asks, appearing almost instantly as I open the door.
“Yeah, I’m good.” But I’m so not.
“Who was that?”
When I meet his eyes, there is only concern in his. “Chase.”
His expression turns almost cartoonish. “The Chase.”
I nod slowly.
“Is he in your apartment? Did you two talk?”
My nod turns into a headshake. “No, he was gone by the time I made it back outside.”
The pause is short before he asks another question, “Did you try to call him?”
I shrug. “I don’t have his number. Not anymore.”
He shocks me when he finally speaks again. “Are you still in love with him?”
I gape for a few seconds, surprised he went there.
“No.” My face screws up in that are you crazy expression, because the lie is easier than the truth. “He’s engaged. He’s probably in town, maybe to see his cousins, and dropped by to say hi.”
Owen must see something because he steps forward and envelops me in a bear hug. For a second, I let out a choked breath and a contained sob before I muffle it.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Needing reassurance, I glance up. The moment changes too fast for me to comprehend. His mouth descends and his lips press firmly to mine. Like I’ve been electrocuted, I jump back because it’s Owen and we’ve been friends for so long. Yes, I’ve considered the idea of us, but Chase is here, in Chicago. No matter what I say to Owen, I need to be sure there’s no possibility of a reconciliation with Chase before I move on.
He holds up his hand like I’m a cornered cat. Maybe I am. Feeling that my face is tight, I relax it.
“No, it’s fine,” I say.
“It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have.” He closes his eyes and blows out a breath. “I’m so out of practice. It’s just, you …”
He stops and I realize that I’m giving him the please don’t continue look.
Before things can get any more awkward, I jump in. “It’s getting late. I promised Violet some one-on-one mama and daughter time. There won’t be a problem with you getting her from preschool tomorrow, right?”
I pray that we can just forget the kiss and go back to being single parent pals.
“Yeah, no problem. This never happened.”
He waves a hand, dismissing it. But in his eyes, I see the disappointment. Still, I let out the breath I’ve been holding and go scoop up my daughter, who squeals in delight. When we get home, we play one for you and one for me with our dinner. It helps her to eat things she doesn’t like.
“Yuckie,” she says, scrunching her face at the green bean I offer her.
I pick one up. “One for Mama.” I put it in my mouth and say, “Mmm, yummie. Now one for you.” She shakes her head fiercely. “Then Mama will eat all the cookies.”
Her lower lip trembles before poking out. I again offer her the green bean. Reluctantly, she eats it. And we play this game until she’s eaten all her dinner.
“Cookie now,” she asks with her grabby hands out.
It’s times like this, her determination, she reminds me of her father. But when she flashes me a brilliant smile to add to her irresistible charm, I know she’s the light of my life. I can’t help the grin I give her because she knows she’s won in some way. “Yes, cookie now.”
I clean up while she devours her dessert. We play with blocks to build because girls don’t always have to play wit
h dolls. We also watch Sesame Street and Barney before I give her a bath and put her into bed.
When I pull out the princess book we’ve been reading, because I have no problems with crowns and princes, she pushes my hand and shakes her head.
“Picture book, please.” Though it sounds more like picture book peas.
Because some wishes are automatically granted, I set down the book and go to the bookshelf. I pull out the scrapbook I began before she was born and have only added to it over time. We spend the rest of our nightly ritual going through it page by page. She asks lots of questions as she points to different pictures, like of me when I was pregnant and of my family she’s never met. She falls asleep shortly after I finish. I set the book in its place on the shelf, emotionally spent.
Back in my living room, I sink into my sofa and replay the events of the day. The kiss with Owen, my conversation with my brother, and Chase … He’s at the center of my emotional turmoil.
What am I going to say to him when we finally talk? I finally get a text from Mark, who has impeccable timing. It contains two numbers for Chase. One I recognize. It’s his old number in the U.S. This one can’t be good, because he’d contacted me shortly after he moved, letting me know he had a new number. Wallowing in hurt feelings, I hadn’t written it down, assuming I wouldn’t need it. It must have been the international number included in the text. I stare at it a long time before dialing it, intending to keep the call short. My budget is tight and international phone calls aren’t included.
My heart doesn’t beat as the phone rings and rings.
“Ciao,” a female voice says.
I say nothing for a second, thinking I might hang up. Then I decide it doesn’t matter if he’s brought her stateside. I have to talk to him.
“Is Chase available?”
“Chase,” the woman says with a thick Italian accent. Then she spouts off a string of words I can’t understand before hanging up on me.
I try again, but no one answers. Before I give in, I take a chance and call his old number. It’s answered by someone at a bar or club based on the background noise I hear. Another female voice greets me.
“Hello,” she slurs.
“Is this Chase’s number?”
“Ain’t nobody chasing anything, honey,” she says before disconnecting the call.
Clearly, Riley doesn’t know the U.S. number is no good. I put my phone down, leaving it on the sofa cushion before heading to bed. He didn’t come for you, I think. He came because he was in town, maybe to see family to introduce his fiancée. He dropped by to pay me a courtesy visit, nothing more. That doesn’t mean I won’t talk to him eventually … and soon. But it does mean I need to move on … finally.
Eight
Chase
Walking home from Andi’s, I decide to take a detour into a bar and drink myself into oblivion. There were several things I’d expected, but none of them included her being married with kids, and how did I not hear about it? Why the fuck did I wait so long to contact her? This is totally my fault. Yeah, I gave her my number, but I should’ve known she’d never call, as stubborn as she is. I should’ve followed up and pestered the hell out of her, insisting she come with me. But I did none of those things. Now I’m sitting in this bar alone, while she’s in the arms of another man, enjoying her wonderful family life. Good for her. Or that’s what I should be thinking, anyway, but the honest side of me is jealous of him. I envy what that dude has because Andi should’ve been mine.
Opening my phone, I pull up one of the many airline apps I have and try to book a flight out tonight. Only this particular airline is completely sold out. When I go to the next, I find the same thing. I move on to one of those travel apps, which searches all airlines, and it seems every flight is booked. What the hell is going on? Even trying to get a charter seems impossible.
“Can I get you another?” the bartender asks.
“I’d rather you get me a flight out of here.”
He laughs. “Good luck with that. Haven’t you been paying attention to the weather?” He motions to the TV where The Weather Channel is on, reporting about some big winter storm getting ready to nail Chicago. I’ve noticed it’s been snowing, but this is Chicago, where the weather is usually like this in the winter.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Where’ve you been? This is all everyone’s been talking about. Planes are stuck all over the Eastern seaboard to the Midwest. Can’t get here, and from the looks of things, won’t be leaving any time soon, either.”
“Damn you, Lucia.” I spit out her name like a curse. If I hadn’t been so focused on her, I would’ve paid attention to the weather and what was happening around me.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. And yeah, I’ll take another.”
None of the charter services are flying, which means I’m stuck in fucking Chicago. I’m so close to Andi, I can practically smell her. Goddammit.
The bartender slides another beer in front of me and I ask for a menu. Better get some food in me before I get too hammered. As I stare at the TV, watching the blue on the radar approaching the Chicago area, my phone rings.
“Hi, Fletcher. What’s up, bro?”
“Mom says you’re in Chicago. Are you stuck?”
“I am now.”
“I just heard the news, so I thought I’d give you a call.”
“Seems like I’m the last to know about the blizzard,” I say.
“That’s not what I was talking about. I was talking about your engagement.”
“Did Mom tell you I’m not engaged?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a mess on your hands. Is your guy handling it?”
“He says he is. She’s crazy, Fletch. There’s nothing more for me to tell her. I’m done.”
“Yeah, I get crazy. Make sure Max takes care of it. So how long before you can get out of there?”
“No idea. I was working on it, but no one can tell me anything. I can’t even charter a flight. It seems everything is sold out, and my guess is this place will be shut down when the storm hits.”
“I would send you my plane, but the pilot is on vacation. Besides, I doubt they can get into Midway or the Executive Airport, and O’Hare is out of the question. So hang tight and keep me posted.”
I order a burger, drink more beer, and am pretty damn toasted before I know it. The place is jammed with customers and a girl wedges her way next to me to order a drink. It’s more than that, though. She leans against me and starts hitting on me. There is no pretense or shyness about her demeanor. Even I can tell what she wants in my buzzed state.
“Hi, I’m Mickie, and you are?”
“Chase.”
“And I certainly would. Chase you, that is. You alone?”
“Not anymore, it would seem.” She laughs at my little joke. Bleached blond hair—which is not my type—hangs too close to my face. Her bright pink lips—which are also not my taste—pucker up as though she’s going to kiss me. I jerk away, trying to avoid the contact.
“Calm down, Chasie boy. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. Although I wouldn’t mind doing naughty things to you.”
“I can imagine.”
“No, I don’t think you can.” Her hands drop to my thigh, and that’s when I notice her cleavage. It’s as deep as the Grand Canyon. I wonder how much she paid for her boobs and I almost ask her when she hits me with, “You like what you see?”
“Uh, yeah.” I really don’t. Unharnessed, those jugs must hit the damn floor, but I don’t want to insult the woman.
“If you want, I can show you the real things.” She motions with her head toward the back of the room. “It’d only take a few, Chasie boy.”
“Er, yeah, well, I think maybe another time.”
“Aww, don’t be scared. Mickie promises she won’t bite. At least not too hard, anyway.”
Why does this shit happen to me? I get all the crazies.
“I’m sure you won’t, but I’ll pass. Tha
nks just the same.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she teases. For a second, I think she’s going to tickle me because she has her fingers up in the air, wiggling them.
“Mickie, some other guy is going to be very lucky tonight.”
“You’re right, Chasie boy.”
My phone, which is sitting on the bar, rings and Mickie grabs it before I can answer it. Then she says something about nobody chasing anything. It’s so loud in here, though, I’m not sure if I hear her correctly. Before I can grab the phone from her, she hangs up.
“Why’d you do that?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“Answer my phone.”
She shrugs and her gigantic boobs bounce. At first I think they’re going to hit her in the chin, but they don’t. “I dunno. Thought I’d save you the trouble.”
“Don’t do it again.” Picking up the phone, I’m not really concerned because I figure I can return the call. Only when I check the recent call list, it was a private call. There’s not a number listed.
“Hey, Mickie, was it a man or woman who called?”
She cocks her head and gives me a sly grin. “Why you wanna know?”
Grinding my teeth, I say, “Stop playing games and tell me.”
“You don’t need any other woman. Mickie can give you more than she can.” Then she pushes her tits together again. My patience has just left the building.
“Mickie, you couldn’t give me what I wanted if I were stranded on a deserted island and you were the only woman there with me. Answer the question.”
“Ya don’t have to get all huffy about it. It was a lady. And all she asked was if this was your number.”
“Goddammit.” Motioning to the bartender, I hand him my credit card and square up. There’s only one person who might call like this. If it was her, I don’t have a number to call her back because of some bimbo. I don’t want to risk going back to her place and disturbing her home. There’s no way I want to intrude on that.
“You’re not going, are you?”
I don’t bother answering, but head out into the cold. It’s snowing now and the wind is howling. No wonder all the flights are booked. If this keeps up, I won’t be getting out of here for a couple of days.
Worth Every Risk Page 5