by Lily Kate
The idea of brushing against Tyler sends swirls of heat all through me, my thoughts spiraling back toward the laundromat. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of his fingers digging into my hips, of my back pressed against the rough machine. The warmth, the vibrations, the...
“We’re here,” Tyler announces, glancing over at me with a cheeky little smile. “Nice nap, sleeping beauty?”
Apparently, I’d dozed off, lost in a world that will never—should never—happen. I quickly glance in the mirror, looking to Mila for signs that I’d murmured something embarrassing in my sleep.
“Don’t worry,” Mila chirps, reading my gaze. “You didn’t drool this time, and you only had one snore.”
“Sorry I dozed off.” I yawn. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”
“Girls,” Tyler says, turning to look at the backseat. “Do me a favor, will you? We need four bags for the apples. Ten dollars a bag. How much money do you need?”
“Forty,” Jessica says promptly, while Mila is still digesting the question.
“Very good,” Tyler says, opening his wallet. “Do you think you can buy us four bags? I’m going to talk to Margaret for a moment.”
“Yes,” Mila chirps. “My mom has let me buy things before.”
“Excellent,” Tyler says, handing a twenty to each girl. “Half for you, and half for you.”
“Tyler, I can pay—”
“Go on,” Tyler instructs. “We’ll catch up with you in a second. Stay where we can see you.”
The girls scurry to get out, flinging their car doors open and slamming them shut again, my arguments falling on tailwinds. I watch as both girls clutch twenty dollars to their chests like it’s their entire life savings.
“I would’ve paid,” I tell Tyler, suddenly feeling too warm in the closed car. “You drove, you bought the apples—shopping is on me.”
“Fine,” he says.
I find no argument on his lips, but what I do find is a deep, bubbling question in his eyes. “Great.”
“Tell me what you were worried about,” he says, nodding toward the backseat.
“What are you talking about?”
“You looked back at Mila as if you’d expected her to bust you for talking in your sleep or something.”
“Tyler—”
“You were thinking about me before you fell asleep.”
“Tyler.” My voice is sharper this time. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then you’re telling me the way you moaned as you drifted off...” He leans in, his breath a spicy mix of peppermint and sweet, “had nothing to do with us?”
“My moan?”
“I’ve heard it before,” he says. “It’s the sound you make when I’ve got my hands all over you.”
“What makes you think I dreamt of you?”
“Unless there’s someone else that’s made you feel the way I do...”
“My, you’re cocky,” I tell him, reaching for the car door. “You left eight years ago and expected me to wait around for someone who wasn’t coming back?”
“I’m back now.”
“And is that supposed to change everything?!” My voice is getting a little screechy, and I take a calming breath as I look over to the girls, who appear to be chatting with one another as they inch forward in line. “I’m here only for my daughter. Not for you.”
“Are we going to pretend nothing happened at the laundromat?”
“It was a mistake.”
“Right.” Tyler narrows his eyes at me, surveying my face, reading between the lines. “A mistake.”
I do my best to hold my expression even so he can’t read a thing. “You can’t waltz in and out of my life whenever you feel like it.”
“I know that.”
“Well? Then what are you playing at, Tyler?”
“Tell me the truth.” He’s so close now his lips hover above mine. “Has anyone else made you feel the way I do?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t. It matters more than anything in this world. Answer me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in you whirling into my life and then tap dancing back out when the spark dies down,” I say, but a hesitation comes through as my voice cracks. “Under different circumstances, maybe. But I’ve already been here with you before, and I know the ending.”
“I’ve no plans to tap dance anywhere. I’m a different man than the boy who fucked things up last time.”
This is the first time Tyler’s come close to admitting fault for what happened before, but it’s still not an apology. I can’t find it in me to let him off the hook this easily—not when he’d destroyed my heart so thoroughly the first time around. If Mila hadn’t come along, a welcome and lovely little baby who’d put me back together, I might still be lost.
“I loved you,” I whisper. Tears prick my eyes. This is not going the way I’d hoped, and I swipe the tears away and focus on the anger. “How dare you bring back those emotions now.”
“If not now, when?”
“Never! Don’t you understand? There is no future for us.”
“I have never felt the things I feel for you with anyone else. It’s never come close,” Tyler says. “I might not have given us the chance we needed, and I’m sorry. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”
There’s a sadness as I offer a smile. “Well, I guess we both moved on.”
“That’s the furthest thing from the truth, and we both know it.”
“What about Anastasia? How does she fit into all of this?”
Tyler’s hands fall to his lap, and he grips his knees. “Don’t bring her into this. The only reason she’s any part of my life is because she’s Jessica’s mother. For Jess’s sake, I’m trying to keep the avenue open for a relationship between them. Not that she wants it.”
“She...” I hesitate. “She doesn’t want a relationship with her own daughter?”
Tyler’s eyes flash over to me. “I’m not discussing this now. Not ever.”
“Why?”
“She’s Jessica’s mother. I swore I wouldn’t badmouth her no matter...” Tyler’s fists shake, his entire body trembling. “No matter how much wrong I think she’s done.”
I lose Tyler for a moment to his fury. There’s an emotion in his eyes that I recognize, a similar emotion I’d felt when Mila’s father told me he never wanted to meet his daughter. To see her. To hold her. Instead of anger, however, I’d broken. I’d curled even closer around Mila to ensure she’d never know the truth.
Tyler, it appears, has his own way of protecting Jessica. His instincts are rooted in anger, while mine come from fear.
My gut reacts first, pushing me out onto a limb. I reach for Tyler’s hand and clasp my fingers around it, feeling the warmth of him. “I respect that,” I tell him. “We can change the subject. I won’t bring up her name again.”
“It’s fine,” Tyler says, still visibly struggling to dismiss his anger. “She’s a part of my life, no matter what. Forever.”
“I know what you mean,” I whisper. “Mila’s dad didn’t want to be a part of her life.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“Are you...” Tyler’s eyes flash with alarm. “I’m so sorry. Are you widowed?”
I shake my head. “Never married. Not even close. I had just thought...assumed, I suppose, that he’d want to be a part of his daughter’s life.”
Tyler gives a wry laugh. “Assumptions are painful.”
“Dangerous,” I agree. “And foolish. I don’t assume anything anymore.”
Tyler looks at me, knowing the conversation has changed from our past to our present. “You assume I’m the same person I was. I’m not, Margaret. I’m different.”
“So am I,” I say, offering a somewhat tender smile. “I’m not so naive this time around, which works out better for both of us.”
Tyler’s jaw works, and he takes the pause to glance over my shoulder at the g
irls. “They’re fine,” he says. “Almost to the front of the line.”
“We should get going. The apples wait for nobody.”
Tyler’s hand snakes out, grasps my wrist, and holds me in place. “Answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Have you ever...” He pauses to swallow, as if this is the moment of truth. “Have you felt the same way about anyone else that you’ve felt about me?”
I blink. “What does it matter?”
“Was it me you were thinking of when you drifted off to sleep?” He inches closer. “If I’d let you sleep longer, is it my name you would have said?”
“Tyler...” My voice is a breath. There’s not enough air in the car. My heart is thumping, my pulse pounding, my blood on fire. “Please, don’t—”
He takes my face in his hands—his strong, tender hands—and holds me suspended before him. “Answer me.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’ve never...”
“Was it me?”
“Yes,” I say, and it’s practically a whimper. “But it doesn’t mean anything—”
My words are wiped free as his lips meet mine. The most tender, gentle kiss. A touch of two souls, of a long-lost love and a hopeless future. A moment of truth and a moment of sadness as we linger together, my body frozen in place, and my heart unlocks just a bit more.
“Tyler, we—” I pull back, struggling for the willpower to fight this moment, only to have the battle won for me.
“Got the bags!” Two shrill voices screech as they pound against the window of the car. “What are you doing, mom?”
Tyler’s hands drop from my cheeks, their absence felt like a ripped off Band-Aid. Before I know it, Tyler’s outside of the car, shoving his hands into his pockets and explaining that I had an eyelash stuck in my eye.
I barely hear his explanation as I urge my legs to move and force my arms to open the door. Jessica seems to buy the eyelash bit, asking me if I feel all right.
I nod and thank her, but Mila isn’t fooled. She and I hang a step behind as Jess takes her father’s hand and trots on ahead.
“I told you, mom,” Mila accuses, as her feet shuffle noisily on the leaf-strewn ground. “You dressed up for a reason.”
“Mila.”
“Do you like him?” Mila’s eyes crinkle as they meet mine. “You said you wouldn’t lie, mom.”
“I don’t know,” I finally admit. “It’s complicated.”
Her hand ensnares mine tighter. “Jessica told me they were going to move back to the city when her dad’s job here is done.”
I’m surprised by this change of subject, and I let my daughter know.
“Why should I be friends with Jessica,” she asks, “if she’s just going to leave?”
I bite my lip, struggling for a response. I’m spared for the moment when the girls spot a haunted hay ride and beg for tickets. However, as we wander deeper and deeper into the orchard, and the leaves crunch louder and louder beneath my feet, I wonder if Mila’s words don’t mean something for me, too.
Is it worth risking everything for a fleeting moment of happiness? I watch Tyler lift his daughter onto a hay bale and my throat closes up. A week ago, I would have said no.
Now, I’m not so sure.
Chapter 13
TYLER
Leaves crunch beneath our feet, grass swishing over my shoes as I walk side by side next to Margaret Marshall. Greenery surrounds us, punctuated by red little gems hanging ripe from the trees, and together we pause as Maggie finds an apple she likes, studies the fruit with fascination, and plucks it with joy.
I’m still staring at the curve of her ass in those tight jeans when she holds it up for me to inspect. “Uh, great,” I say, flustered. “Looks like an apple?”
She scowls, bringing out cute little lines around her eyes. “It’s the perfect apple.”
“What if there’s a worm inside?”
“Must you ruin every moment?” She flips the apple around, surveying every shiny surface there is. “Look—no holes.”
The damn apple isn’t what’s holding my attention, however. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Margaret’s face in order to confirm the absence of holes.
The sun glints down, gentle and warm as it fights to hold onto summer, the chill of the wind giving hints of fall. The light bounces off Maggie’s red lips and glints off her eyes, her cheeks pink with exertion.
There’s a lightness to her step that I haven’t seen since I returned to Harp’s Haven, and she seems overjoyed at the simplest of things.
“Ugh, how can you not love fall?” She holds a hand out as a few leaves spiral down from the trees. “It’s the perfect time of year.”
I’m thinking a distinctly similar thought about perfection, but it doesn’t involve the weather. As Margaret marvels at the spinning leaves, I note the hair framing her face, a few pieces sticking to her shiny lips as she comes to a breathless halt. I want to brush that hair away and kiss those lips raw.
“Taste,” she instructs, and I go rigid.
“Uh...what?”
She rolls her eyes, the pink in her cheeks deepening to red. “The apple.”
When I don’t make a move to lean in toward her outstretched hand, she shrugs and brings the apple to her lips for a crunchy bite. Her eyes roll back in her head in bliss, and I’m wondering why this whole moment feels intensely intimate. There’s the glisten of sweet fruit juice on her lips, and I have the desire to taste...
“Try,” she encourages, her voice softer as she extends her hand once again. “It’s delicious.”
“Don’t you have to pay for that?” I cringe as soon as the words come out. Leave it to me to ruin the sexiest moment I’ve had in years by worrying about legality.
Maggie laughs and tosses her hair behind her shoulders. She sends me a wink. “I’m sure they’ll forgive you for one sample. How long has it been since you’ve been to an apple orchard?”
I lean in, my hand coming to rest on the trunk of the tree behind her, enveloping the pair of us in our own little bubble. My teeth clamp down, snapping off a bite of the apple, and as I pull back, Maggie’s eyes widen.
“Delicious,” I say, meeting her gaze and holding it there. I refuse to back away further. I’ve never enjoyed being closer to someone in my life—a sad, yet impossibly true fact. “But I bet this tastes better...”
I lean in and hover mere centimeters away. I run my tongue along her bottom lip, closing my eyes at the sweet, fresh taste before diving in for more. I devour her, my mouth parting hers as my hand reaches for her waist and pulls her close.
Margaret’s eyes widen, and then they close, sinking into the kiss. One arm curls around my neck while the other lets the apple drop from her hand. Her chest rises and falls, little breaths skittering across my cheek as she breaks the kiss and twines her hands through my hair.
I’m intoxicated with her in my arms. Her breath is halting, short little gasps that instantly send my pulse skyrocketing. “Maggie...”
Her eyes look at me, soft and forgiving. I can feel her opening up to me, waiting for the proper apology. I have it prepared; I’ve waited for this moment. Taking a deep breath, I begin, only to stop mere seconds later when the shrieks of little girls sounds too closely behind us.
I step back, reluctantly pulling my arm from the tree as Maggie shoots me a wistful look.
“To be continued,” I murmur, as the girls crash through the orchard and pop up at Margaret’s side.
“Margaret,” Jessica says, prepared to lodge a formal complaint with Mila’s mother. “Mila threw an apple at me. It almost hit my head.”
“I didn’t throw anything at you!” Mila shrieks. “Don’t be a baby.”
“How did an apple almost hit my head?” Jessica turns to Mila. “I almost died. You can die when things hit you in the head.”
“You weren’t going to die from one little apple,” Mila says. “Plus, it wasn’t on purpose. I just wiggled the tree trunk a little and some appl
es fell out.”
“Mila, apologize,” her mother insists. When Mila begins to argue with a whole lot of buts, Maggie gives her a glare that leaves no room for negotiation. “Even if it was an accident, you need to say you’re sorry.”
“Sorry,” Mila says. “But I didn’t throw it at your head.”
“Nope,” Maggie says. “Try again.”
This time, still sulking, Mila offers a more heartfelt response. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s go for a quick walk,” I tell Jessica, grabbing her hand. “Jess, it sounds like Mila didn’t mean to hit you with an apple.”
“So?”
“So, maybe she should have apologized, but I’m not sure you needed to tattle on her to her mother.”
“I didn’t tattle,” Jessica argues. “I was just telling the truth.”
“I know, honey,” I say gently. “But it was an accident. It’s not good for us to jump to hasty conclusions about someone else.”
“But the apple—”
“I know, but it didn’t hurt you. You’re fine, aren’t you?” I pull to a stop and clasp my arms over Jessica’s shoulders. “I don’t know the best advice to give you.”
“What does that mean?” Jessica frowns. “You’re my dad. You’re supposed to know everything.”
I sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t. I’m figuring this out as I go, sweetheart.”
“Yeah. I guess there are definitely some things you don’t know.”
“Hey, now,” I say, “Watch it, little lady—I’m still bigger than you are.”
Jess leans into me, giggling as we come across a crumbling brick wall near the edge of the orchard. Together, we lean against it, and I pull her next to me, tucked against my arm. She won’t stay little for long, I remind myself. Already, the time has gone so fast.
“Listen,” I tell her, kneeling so we’re eye to eye. “I love you more than anything, and I am just trying to raise a happy and healthy daughter.”
“I know, dad.”
“Well, back there, do you think you could’ve let the apple thing go? Mila was just trying to shake some apples down. Accidents happen. She wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“I know, but—”