by Karen Gordon
Celestial
The Vivienne Series, book 7
By Karen Gordon
“Chase your stars, fool. Life is short.”
- Atticus
Chapter One
Danny hesitates for a moment when our eyes meet. He stops walking but his son continues on, still talking to his dad. When he realizes he is walking alone he turns back and looks at Danny then forward to see what’s so shocking. He sees me, grounded in one spot, holding on to Dom’s arm.
Danny recovers first and catches up to his son then walks them past their car to talk to Dom and me. My heart is pounding. I can hear it in my ears. My chest is tight and my breathing short. I won’t be able to speak first—not that have any idea what to say.
When they reach the sidewalk in front of the house they stop. Danny stares at me, searching my eyes for a clue as to how I’m feeling. He sees betrayal and looks away. We all stand in silence, his son trying to piece together why his dad wants to stand near the two women currently staring daggers into him.
Danny clears he throat before saying a very quiet. “Hi.”
I don’t answer because I physically can’t through all the emotions stirring up in my gut and chest.
He acknowledges Dom. “Hey Dom.”
She pulls Marco closer to her and replies a wary, “Hey,” in return. There’s no mistaking her sarcasm when she asks. “How’s Saudi?”
Danny looks down, hands on hips, contrite. He pushes out a deep breath before saying. “I have a few months off. I’m here to see…” seeing an opportunity to take the focus off himself he puts his hands on his son’s shoulders and moves the kid in front of him. As a shield? “This is my son, Nick.”
I want to tell him I already know Nick, that I remember when he was little and he had pictures of him taped to his tool box, but I don’t want to confuse the kid more. I tell him, “Hi Nick. Nice to meet you.”
“So yeah, I was taking Nick to an afternoon game and we thought we’d get some lunch first. That place down the street is really good.” He’s rambling, hoping to lighten the mood, but I can’t. All I can focus on is that he’s home and he hasn’t even called.
I feel the need to let him know that I have been more than fine without him. I nod and cut in, “Cool, I’ll have to check it out. I’m buying this house so I’ll be nearby.” I point to the mansion behind me.
But he doesn’t look at it in shock. He doesn’t seem surprised at all. “Yeah I, uh, I heard you are really killing it. Darlene said you’re working for some Italian Jet manufacturer.”
Now it’s me who’s shocked. He’s been checking up on me. My heart softens and the pain melts out of my gut. Even if he didn’t call me, he at least cared enough to check.
He’s saying something about his schedule, when he has to be back in Saudi but my focus is on my initial reaction to him. Why the hell do I still feel this way? He left me. He told me to move on and I did—many times over. Why, why, why does it still matter if he cares?
I study him and all the feels come rushing back—there’s some lust, sure, but there’s also a solid-certainty I wanted him to bring to my life. He was part of my plan for a calm, orderly life in a small house in my old neighborhood. He was supposed to be the father of our kids and the main breadwinner so I could take care of them. For years I thought he was the missing puzzle piece that I needed to make that life happen.
But that isn’t my life and I’m starting to see that it probably wouldn’t have been whether Danny and I stayed together or not. He was right when he said I was going too far for him. I didn’t want to believe it at the time, but he saw so much more potential in me than I did. I don’t know if I would have ended up in front of this house, about to buy it and hopefully move in with Dom and her family, but I can see that I was headed for bigger things. Even if he had stayed he couldn’t have given me a fate that wasn’t mine in the first place.
“Um yeah, Ora, they’re based out of Milan.” I try to pick up the conversation where I zoned out. Marco stirs and coos and I remember that Danny has no idea about him. Feeling like a very proud aunt, I point to the bundle in Dom’s arms. “This is Marco, Dom’s son. He was born on the 10th.”
Dom leans down to let Danny and Nick see her son. Danny smiles up at her. “He looks like you.” She beams and soaks in the compliment.
Nick looks then starts to fidget a little. He’s had enough conversation with strangers about babies. He’s ready to go to the baseball game with his dad. Danny notices. “Yeah, so, we gotta go. The game is gonna start. Gotta park and all…” He seems hesitant to go, like there’s something else he wants to say. He looks at Nick then tells him. “Meet me at the car, would ya?” This gets Danny a glare, but the boy walks away. As soon as he is out of ear shot Danny leans into me. “I need to talk to you about something. Can I call you later?”
No, you can tell me now so I don’t have to spend hours obsessing about what it might be. “Sure.”
“Same number?” I’m about to say yes because I’ve had this phone and number for almost a year but then I remember that the last number he had for me was my JetStream issued phone. Maybe he had tried to call since then and couldn’t find me.
“No, it’s…” I’m about to recite it when I remember I have business cards. I pull one from my purse and hand it to him. He stares at it longer than it takes to read the few lines of information on it then slides it into his back pocket. And he smiles at me, the same smile that used to absolutely melt my heart. As he turns to leave he says. “I’ll call you later,” and walks away.
✈ ✈ ✈
Dom and I leave the realtor with a promise that we will get back to her soon with a possible offer. We use Marco as an excuse for our hasty exit but the truth is she is exhausted and I need to process what just happened. Time on Dom’s couch is what we both need right now.
We get back to her place right after Luis. He’s just finished working a shift on the pedicab and has a class later tonight. After Dom puts Marco down for a nap we all three collapse together on the couch. We fill Luis in on the whole Danny story, then it’s time for some post-trauma analysis.
“Why do I get the feeling you still want him?” Dom nails me. I truly wish she couldn’t read me so easily.
There’s no need to lie. “Because I do.”
She huffs out her frustration and looks to Luis for help. He shrugs and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this whole thing. He was some old dude when you started chasing him back in high school. What is he now—like forty?”
“Thirty-five.” I counter.
“Thirty-six.” Dom chimes in. “He had a birthday last month.” The fact that she knows this speaks volumes about what I put her through during my Danny years.
“His age is irrelevant. What matters is that he’s here. He’s been checking up on me and he’s going to call me.”
Dom is determined we are not going back into Danny-obsessing mode. “No, what’s relevant is that he left, he didn’t call you for two years, and he wasn’t looking for you today.”
“His son is here.” I automatically defend him.
“Doesn’t matter V!” She’s losing her patience with me and she has every right to. We sit in silence for a few minutes as the tension dissipates. I play every word of my brief conversation with Danny out in my mind and I remember the truth I had found right before he blew my mind with his need to call me.
I take Dom’s hand and lean on her shoulder. “Chicca, don’t worry. I’m not going to go crazy again. I swear. I am pretty freaked out right now but today, when we were talking to him, it hit me. We never would have worked out. We were never going to be the couple who lives down the street from you in our old neighborhood.”
She studies my face to make sure I’m telling her the truth. When she sees my sincerity she hugs me hard. “Thank you. Thank you for finally realizing that.” I can feel her deep relief in her hug. “You have three men chasing your ass, a hella job, and are about to buy an amazing house. You do not need Danny in your life.” She turns my face so she can look me in the eyes and stress her final point. “Remember all this when he calls.”
I cross my eyes to break the intensity of the moment but promise, “I will.”
Chapter Two
I’d like to say that I didn’t spend the next few days obsessively staring at my phone willing it to ring. I’d like to think I’ve moved on, that I’m a changed woman, that I’m no longer the girl who spent ten years infatuated with Danny.
But I’m clearly not. Because I have spent the past three days staring at my phone and I hate myself for it.
This must be some sort of karmic test. Has Vivienne truly let go of her unhealthy obsession? Clearly, no. But, I mean, who says they will call you after being MIA for two years then doesn’t? What kind of guy takes your number but doesn’t give you his so you can’t just call him and end your misery?
I’ve had calls from other men in that time, important calls. Evan called, Sebastian texted and Luis called me—something he rarely does. Dom is definitely the talker in their family and Luis is happy to be the quiet one so him calling me said that this was definitely important.
“Hey V, it’s Luis.” After all these years he still thinks I won’t know his voice right away.
“What’s up?” Hearing him initially does make me panic because he hates to talk on the phone so much this could only be about a disaster.
“Yeah, um, I wanted to talk to you about us moving in.” His hesitation makes me think he’s about to deliver bad news. I steel myself to hear his reasons why they won’t. “Dom and I had a long talk and we want to do it…” I do a silent happy dance as I let go the breath I was holding in. “But only temporarily. We don’t want you to spend a bunch of money fixing up an apartment for us thinking it will be permanent.”
I suppress my excitement when I ask. “How temporary?” Not that I really care. If he says a week and a half I’d still fix up the apartment hoping they would fall in love with it and stay longer.
“One year, at the most.”
I go back to my silent happy dance. I get a year with my family…maybe more. I can hope.
“Our insurance hasn’t covered as much of Marco’s birth and check-up’s as I thought it would so this comes at a really good time for us. We appreciate your offer but we will only stay until we can build up some savings again.”
I love the way he uses “we”. He and Dom are truly a team and I believe they made this decision together, both carefully weighing their finances and what the other needs and wants. I can see why Dom wants me to settle down and have a marriage like hers. I might want to find my “we” someday, just not yet.
“That’s sounds great.” I stop suppressing my excitement now that I know it’s a yes. “I can’t wait! Dom and I are going to design the most amazing space for you guys and we can all hang out together when I’m in town and I get to see Marco more often and Lucca can come over anytime and…”
He cuts off my rambling. “Yeah Chicca, it’ll be great. We’ll have a really good year.” In one short sentence he reminds me that he’s a man of few words and he’s used them up for now and that they have set a limitation—something I often have to be reminded of when I get really excited about an idea.
“Have Dom call me.” I need to squeal for joy with her.
“Will do. Later.”
✈ ✈ ✈
Luis’s call distracts me for the next few hours. I talk to Dom and we start researching designers and trading links to Pinterest boards. I don’t care how old you are or how sophisticated, getting to make your dream house come true with your best friend is just plain cool. I hope I’m never too old or jaded to get goofy giddy like I am today. Making these plans with Dom feels like all the best Christmases and birthdays rolled into one.
Dom has a list of designers to call and I’m going to create a separate pin board just for this project. We’re about to hang up and get to work when she asks, “Still didn’t call?” It pulls me right back into my anxiety but I’m glad she asked. I hesitated to bring up how much it was bothering me, even to her.
“Nope.” My voice cracks a little, betraying how much it hurts.
She breaths out her frustration. “Damn it.”
“And here’s the really stupid part, I have so much more, really good stuff to focus on, but I can’t. Mikel sent me the schedule for delivery on Evan’s plane. I get to go see him in Cali next week to go over his plans. I mean, think about it, next week I’m going to hang out with a wonderfully-weird, great guy to discuss how I will be getting another eight hundred thousand dollars in October. Why the hell do I care so much about what Danny has to say to me?”
I don’t expect Dom to answer. She’s knows I’m on a self-analysis rant where I usually come up with my own diagnosis and possible cure.
“You know I never did get an exorcism to remove him from my soul. Do Catholic priests really do that? Maybe I need a voodoo doll or some curse removing incantation.”
I’m on a crazy-roll so Dom redirects me. “Or maybe you need me to find his number so you can call him.”
“You can do that?” Even before I finish my question I know she can. She has sources, possibly illegal, that she doesn’t share with me. She can definitely make that happen.
“Sure.”
I process what I would say to Danny to explain how I got his international number that he didn’t give me. No matter how I try it seems stalker-ish. “Hold on to that for now. I’m going to give it another day or two.”
In the background I hear the Marco alarm go off. His cry is our signal that our call is over because Dom’s boobs will immediately start leaking. She ends with a quick, “I’ll call you later,” then clicks off. The silence is loud and empty and a reminder that I need to fill the void with something other than thoughts of Danny.
✈ ✈ ✈
Over the next two days things really pick up speed on my new house. I make an offer and the buyer accepts. I have appointment after appointment with real estate lawyers, realtors, designers and members of the downtown historic society. There are rules in place for changes to the outside of my new home but I agree with all of them. I’ve loved the area my whole life and I have no desire to ruin the historic ambiance. You would think it would be enough to distract me from wondering if every vibration I feel during one of these meetings is Danny calling and me missing it.
By day three I’m stressed. There’s an overwhelming amount of work to do before I can move in the house and the timing won’t coincide nicely with the end of my lease. Dom and I have talked to three designers and aren’t feeling the vibe from any of them, and it feels like everyone I know has buzzed my phone except the one person I’m waiting for.
After a very stressful day I take a long hot bath with a lavender bath bomb. I’m floating in a scented sea of periwinkle water when it finally happens: my phone rings. It’s sitting on the stool, just out of reach of my wet, oily hands, but I can see that’s it’s a number I don’t know, an area code I’ve never seen before. It has to be Danny.
Chapter Three
I slip and slide, sloshing a cascade of scented water all over my bathroom floor as I grab for a towel. I wipe the oil residue from my right hand just enough so I can use my fingerprint to open my phone. A missed call notice pops up on the main screen but no notice of a voice message. He’s either a) leaving one right now or b) didn’t leave one so I have to call the number back and hope it’s him and not a potential client.
Time stops as I wait for a voice mail notification to appear. I’m freezing and dripping on the floor but I don’t care. All my energy is concentrated into trying to create a voice mail by sheer force of will. When I shiver I decide that I’m going to hav
e to suck it up and call the number back blindly. This gives me time to think (possibly overthink) why he’s calling now and what clue that might give me as to what he wants to talk to me about. I wrap myself in my robe, slide on a pair of soft slipper socks and grab a glass of water before propping myself up on the couch. With my favorite chenille hugging pillow in place I take a deep breath and call the missed number back.
He answers on the second ring and I know it’s him right away. Years melt away when I hear the same brief reply I always got when I called him. “Yeah.”
“Danny?” My voice cracks, giving away the anxiety I was hoping to hide. I clear my throat and wait for him to say something. There’s a long pause. A very telling long pause thick with tension. When a man of few words who hates to talk on the phone hesitates before speaking you know he’s got something important to say.
His voice is quiet. “Yeah, Vivey, it’s me.”
More silence that I fill with all kinds of fears of what he wants to say to me. Does he have some kind of terminal disease? Did something horrible happen in Saudi and that’s really why he’s back in Savannah?
“So, you called? I was taking a bath and couldn’t get to the phone.” I push him to spill the damn beans before I spike my blood pressure to an aneurism. When he hesitates my mind fills the silence, wondering what he’s thinking. Should I have mentioned that I was taking a bath? Will he think I did that so he’ll think of me naked? Will he think I’m still lusting after him? (‘Cause, yeah, I kind of am). I force myself to concentrate and focus.
“Yeah, um, I did.” He takes a deep breath and pushes it out. “I don’t know how to tell you this or if I even really need to but…I’m getting married.”
His words slap me and I’m momentarily stunned. “You’re what?”
“I met someone and well, I’m getting married.”