by Diane Roth
"Hell, I don't think any of us are, really. We're just doin' our thing every day, but nobody's happy with any of it." He leaned back against the booth cushion and sighed. "I've been feeling really lousy about a lot of stuff."
"Anything you want to talk about?" Greg said. It was like pulling teeth.
Ryan thought for a long moment, but Greg allowed the silence to sit.
"Maddie told me about the girl in Dad's car. The one who also died in the accident," he finally said.
Greg frowned. It was not at all what he'd been expecting. "Jason's secretary? I don't know what you mean. What did Maddie tell you about her?"
Ryan looked surprised. Clearly, he'd thought Greg was in on the secret already. "She wasn't his secretary. She was his fuckin' girlfriend," Ryan said quietly, but his tone was disgusted.
Now Greg was surprised. Astounded actually. He sat back, his jaw going slack, and a hundred new thoughts raced through his mind. "You sure?'
Ryan nodded. "Pretty sure. Mom said she thought so, even though she didn't want us to know."
"But she told you anyway?" Greg was confused.
"No, it was Mad who told me, but Mom was there and finally admitted that it was true." Ryan was systematically shredding the napkin that had been wrapped around the utensils.
Greg watched him for a time, processing it. Actually, it wasn't all that surprising. It was just that he'd never once thought about it. That surprised him. He should have been suspicious, now that he looked back on the situation, but it had never once crossed his mind at the time. They were all too shocked, too concerned about memorializing Jason with all the honor due him. More than was due, in reality. In hindsight. The woman was hardly a blip on Greg's radar at the time. Now it made more sense.
Anger erupted in his mind. Cara had known all this time, had carried this sack of crap for nearly two years now and had never let on to him. It made him hurt, actually feel physical pain in his gut for what she'd been through.
"How is she?" he asked quietly.
Ryan looked guilty, sad, and even a little mad. "She's terrible. And it's about ninety percent my fault and about ten percent yours."
Greg though it a rather benevolent breakdown. "I'll own my part, though it's probably more like thirty percent." He smiled wryly.
Ryan tried to smile back. "I'm sorry for how shitty I've been, Greg."
The honesty and maturity of it surprised Greg. Ryan hadn't called him Uncle Greg, but just Greg, and it signaled a new turn in their relationship. This time it was Greg who dropped his gaze away, almost overcome with relief and gratitude for how this time together was turning out. Ryan was full of surprises today, most of them good.
He finally met Ryan's gaze again. "It's been a tough time for all of us. I don't think any of us has been at our best, Bud. But thank you for the apology. I accept it gratefully."
Ryan nodded once, seemingly glad to have that behind him. His brows rose a bit worriedly though. "But seriously ... Mom is not good at all."
Greg frowned. "What's going on?"
"I think she's just missing you really badly."
The waiter brought their burgers and set them on the table, and Greg thought he might just skip eating, his stomach an absolute riot at that moment.
"Do you think so, Ryan? Because she sure hasn't acted like she's missed me. She hasn't called, or texted, or tried to see me."
"Well, that's probably because I was in such a bad mood about it, I think. I was pretty ugly for a few weeks there," he admitted.
"Yeah, I understand that was the case," Greg told him.
"But you know ... seeing her so depressed and sad ... and finding out that crap about Dad, it's all just made me think about things differently."
"Yeah?"
Ryan nodded. "I still think it's weird that y'all fell in love. I do. Not gonna lie about that. But I understand a little better now about how Mom was more than ready to move on. That she probably needed to feel loved instead of betrayed. I feel so bad for her lately. She is way past sad, man."
It gave Greg hope for the first time in two months, but he was cautious, too. "Why hasn't she tried to get in touch with me then?"
Ryan picked up his burger and took a big bite, then shrugged, looking like the quintessential teenager. "I don't know about that. But I really do believe she's so unhappy 'cause y'all aren't together anymore. She cried really bad on Thanksgiving Day after you called Nana's house. I mean bad."
Greg was thoughtful, remembering the day. It was about his lowest point, too. Crazy to think that they'd both been hurting, wanting to be together, but neither willing to bridge the gap ... to reach out. He thought about it some more, though, and decided that things just had to work themselves out. Like Ryan's feelings. No way would Cara have been willing to reach out until Ryan was ready.
"Are you okay with us being together now?' Greg asked.
Ryan thought about it a minute, chewing, then swallowed, nodded, and shrugged, almost like it hadn't ever been all that big a deal to begin with. "Yeah, I guess so."
Greg wanted to lean across the table and kiss him right on the forehead, then throttle him. Instead, he sat back and sighed like a man exonerated of murder at the twelfth hour. "Have you told your mom that you feel that way?"
More chewing. Nothing came between this boy-man and his food. "No."
Greg smiled. She didn't know. He smiled some more.
"So do me a favor, okay? ... " Greg said. And still he smiled.
Chapter Fourteen
The tree looked more festive now that it had a few gifts underneath, Cara decided. She plugged in the extension cord, lighting the tree and smiled at it. Too bad not another soul was home to enjoy it with her. Saturday night before Christmas and both the kids were out. Maddie was at Bella's house doing some serious studying for their last final of the semester on Monday, and Ryan at Conner's pretending to study, but really playing video games, she figured. Hopefully he'd get more serious about his school work in the next year.
He'd done a lot of maturing in the past few months, Cara admitted, remembering how shocked she'd been when he'd come home from looking for a part-time job this afternoon and told her he needed to talk to her about something. With hardly any preamble, he had confessed that he'd been a brat about her relationship with Greg and wanted her to know he'd changed his mind about it, that it would be okay with him if they got back together.
Cara hadn't been at all prepared to hear it, and still didn't know what to make of it, coming as it had, so completely out of the wild blue yonder. She thanked him for his candor and approval, though it felt odd to say that. It wasn't like he was the authority or anything, though his violent disapproval had been the cause of Cara and Greg's breakup. Lord, it was just a mess, and she still didn't know what, if anything, she would do with the knowledge.
But she had to admit it stirred something in her. A humming, nagging feeling of being incomplete. Of having been incomplete for the past two months. It lifted the bandage on the carefully covered, gaping, wound she'd sustained when she'd walked out of Greg's garage that evening. The wound hadn't healed at all, she acknowledged. She'd just learned to live with it better.
She sat down on the ottoman near the Christmas tree and wondered what to do. If he had decided to move to California, trying to reconcile with him was just going to rip open those wounds for both of them. And she, for one, might not live to tell about that. Not again.
But if he'd made the decision to stay here, that was different. It meant that they might have a chance, at least. Hope stirred again somewhere near her heart, but she tried to tamp it back down. She'd get through Christmas then think about it. Right now she just wanted to enjoy the peace that was back in her home. Things were so much better, so much more harmonious than they'd been in months. It was good enough for now.
She took a bath, soaking a long time in fragrant bubbles, then poured herself a glass of wine, put on some Christmas music, and turned out all the lights in the den, save the tree lights. It
used to be a tradition for her. She'd get the tree all decorated, then when everyone else had gone to bed that night, she'd sneak back to the den and plug in the tree and just sit in the blinking, twinkling light, enjoying the beauty and peace.
She was doing exactly that when the peace was broken by the doorbell.
Cara glanced at the clock on the mantle, noting the late-ish hour for anyone to be dropping by unannounced, then glanced down at her fuzzy robe and sweat sox, hardly fit for public display. She toyed with the idea of not answering, but would be worried for the rest of the night about her kids, or one of their friends being in a tight spot. Maybe the Police had come to report something horrible.
She finally peeked out the peep hole, then gasped, seeing Greg on her doorstep.
He must have heard her through the door. "Cara? Can we talk?" he called.
Cara's heart was racing, far outpacing her mind, but she did have presence of mind to reach up and pull the band from her hair and fluff it up a bit. She opened the door and let him in.
His scent was the first thing she noticed, that smoky, citrusy, freakin' edible smelling cologne he wore. It went straight from his skin into her nose, her head, and collided with her good sense in a one-sided battle she had no hope whatsoever of winning. The second thing she noticed was those blessed jeans of his. Those thigh-hugging, painted-on-sin, faded, soft blue jeans that had been her first introduction to the unsettling sexual allure of Greg Brooks.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she answered.
He gave a nod to her attire ... her totally frumpy, less-than-alluring attire. "It's late. I could come back tomorrow," he said, and she could tell he was nervous.
Oh, God, she thought. What if he's come to tell me he's going to California? Her heart rolled over in her chest. Why else would he be coming so late ... and acting so nervous?
"No, it's all right. I've just been indulging in a little self-pampering. The kids are out tonight," she told him. "Come in."
She walked to the sofa and picked up her wine glass, badly in need of fortification suddenly. "Would you like a glass of wine?"
He shook his head. "No, thanks."
She sat down. He followed suit, and Handle's Messiah played in the background.
"Your tree looks pretty," he said, looking it over.
"Thanks. It's a little shabby, but we love it." Small talk irritated the crap out of her at times like this. Just get to the point.
He was still all about the damn tree. "You think? Looks pretty good to me. I haven't had a Christmas tree in several years."
She didn't say anything for a time, then the wine got the better of her. "Did you come for a particular reason, Greg, or just to check out the tree?"
He looked at her then, a curious expression on his face. "Yeah, I think I came for a reason."
She queried him with rounded brows. "You think?"
He studied her for so long she grew restless, then fussed with her hair and took a drink of wine.
"I had lunch with Ryan today," he finally said.
"Really?"
He nodded. "He told me about the girl in the car with Jason."
Cara said nothing for a time, then exhaled a long breath. "I didn't tell him. I didn't tell either one of them. Maddie figured it out some time ago and sprang it on Ryan and me on Thanksgiving night."
"I know you didn't tell them," he said a little irritably, like she should have known he wouldn't have thought so. "You haven't ever told anyone, have you?"
"No, I haven't."
He mulled that for a minute. "Well, the truth is out now, and those of us who know it should use it as best we can, and then put it out of our minds. I wouldn't want Mom to know about it."
Cara shook her head quickly. "Of course, not. But what do you mean by using it as best we can?"
"Ryan seems to have come to terms with our relationship because of it, thank goodness. And truth be known, it's given me some absolution for falling in love with my brother's widow." One shoulder shrugged slightly. "Just being gut honest here."
She thought about that for a moment. "I get it. I think the knowledge that he'd betrayed me got me through those first confusing weeks of falling in love with you."
"I can't imagine what you went through, how you carried the knowledge of his infidelity for so long without confiding in anyone." His eyes shone with compassion and regret.
"It's behind me," she said dismissively. "I try hard not to think about any of it anymore." She took another drink of her wine, soothed by it.
"You sound hard, not at all like the Cara Brooks I know." He was clearly troubled by it.
She shrugged. "Sorry. You Brooks boys have left your marks on me, I guess."
"I don't want to leave that kind of mark on you, Caroline. Not like he did," he said, hurt that she was lumping them together, she could tell.
"Oh, I don't put you in the same category as Jason. Rest assured of that. But all you Brooks men have taken pieces of me over the years. Jason with his putting on airs and making me do the same ... his cheating. And Ryan with his tantrums and manipulative behavior. You were right about all that, by the way," she admitted. "I just couldn't see it until Maddie made me really examine it."
"Well, I owe her then," he said, his voice growing quieter.
It made her insides quiver nervously, that quiet, deep voice of his, and she looked at him for a long time, thankful to be seeing his beloved face again. They looked at one another, each caught up in their own part of the drama as they saw it.
"And then there's you ... the other Brooks boy. Isn't that what they all called you?" she asked quietly. "Like you were an adjunct to Jason or something. Nobody realized that while he crowed about himself, his accomplishments and achievements, you were quietly doing your own thing with more honor and integrity and pure goodness than Jason ever thought about possessing." It was as close as she'd ever come to outright comparing them.
"Don't make me sound like some sort of a hero, Cara. I'm not," he warned.
"Oh, I know. I'm still bleeding from the wounding you gave me the last time we saw one another," she said honestly. "But you're still a hero in my book, Greg."
His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because you took me under your wing and pulled me through those horrible first weeks after Jason died ... when I was dealing with his betrayal, and the kids' grief. You were there every step of the way, in spite of your own grief and pain." She knew she was taking a gamble by being so transparent, by telling him plainly how she felt, but he needed to know the truth. If he chose to go to California, at least he was going with the truth.
"You were my friend, my handy man, my children's surrogate daddy. You fixed my faucet, my fears, my self-image. When I'd decided I wasn't worth loving any more, you turned into a man who could love me and desire me. You made me love you ... and you made me whole again."
Tears were falling now. She couldn't help them any more than she could help loving this man. Despite the turmoil it had brought to her family and the future censure they might face from those who'd known them all their lives, she loved him.
"I do love you," he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. His arms settled around her waist. "And I do desire you."
She felt just a little buzzed from the wine, but was still clear-headed enough to need to settle it all between them. "Are you going to California?"
"Do I look like a man who's going to California?" he asked, a grin playing about the corners of his handsome mouth.
"I don't know. I'm not sure I've ever known a man who was on his way to California," she said.
"Well, you still don't. 'Cause I'm not goin' anywhere, darlin', where you're not. You walked away from me once, but I promise you, I won't ever let that happen again."
"I think you should seal that promise with a kiss," she said, raising her arms to circle his neck.
"I think you should stop talking now," he said, and kissed her like she'd asked.
And the Hallelujah Chorus came
on the stereo in full philharmonic splendor.
Epilogue
Four months later, a warm and salty Caribbean breeze was the only thing in the world troubling Cara as it ruffled her hair, making it tickle her neck. Delicious laziness from a morning spent in bed with her husband made her ignore the tickle and simply enjoy lying in his arms in a hammock near the ocean.
Cara kept her eyes closed against the dappled sunlight teasing through the palm leaves overhead and listened to the sounds around them. She could hear Maddie and Ryan laughing at one another as they were learning to surf in the tame waves washing up lazily on the beach a few dozen yards away, and closer, in the shade of a large palm tree, she could clearly hear Etta and Barbara's conversation as they ogled the man eye candy walking up and down the beach.
"Oh, I don't think so, Miss Barbara. Not that old coot. Think younger ... like that one with that little bitty thong thang on there. Yeah, him. Get your inner cougar out to play, girlfriend," Etta told Barbara, making Cara grin and Greg's chest rumble quietly with laughter beneath Cara's ear.
"Dear Lord ... there's no telling what those two will get into before we get them back on a plane for home," Greg said quietly for Cara's ears only.
They'd been married on this very beach two days ago, with friends and family in happy attendance. Uncle Taddy had flown his family down on their private jet, stopping by Texas to pick up Ren and his girlfriend, Callie. Nonna had even made the adventure, though Cara didn't think she'd seen her grandmother without rosary beads in hand the entire time she'd been on the island. It had been a gift to have her family in attendance for the wedding. Cousins Maddie and Francesca's daughter, Lexie had hit it off beautifully, even getting a little tearful as the Maggios had flown out this morning, back to Texas and California. Barbara, Etta and Cara's kids would fly home in the morning.