Espresso in the Morning

by Dorie Graham

  Settling back into the movie, Marty scooped up a handful of popcorn and nodded. “Good plan.”

  * * *

  LUCAS SAT ON the bed as Claire paced around the room, her earphones in, but the volume loud enough for him to hear, even over the old radio on her nightstand blasting heavy metal. Exhaustion tugged at him. It was as though she’d withdrawn from him since her breakdown in the laundry room. Though she responded to his calls and texts and was responsive to him at The Stop when she and Grey had dropped in, she hadn’t initiated contact with him since then.

  It is...so much harder...with you here.

  He moved behind her, his fingers brushing her hip. She turned to him, her lips curving into that shy smile that melted him every time. She slipped her hands over his shoulders, saying, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said, though she couldn’t possibly have heard him. She brushed her lips over his and he covered her mouth with his. He held her loosely, not wanting the moment to escalate into anything she wasn’t ready for. Still, her tongue probed his and she leaned into him.

  He drew back and gestured toward the earphones. “Can we?”

  She pulled one bud from her ear and booming bass spilled into the room. “I’m sorry?” she asked.

  “Do you think maybe you could do without those for now?” he asked. “I just want to hold you and see how your day went. Maybe kiss you some more.”

  “Oh, of course.” She fiddled with her phone until only the sound of the radio filled the air.

  “Thank you.” He brushed his mouth over hers.

  This time her kiss was more tentative, though. Again, he got the feeling she was participating only because he’d initiated. He drew back and caught her gaze. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, though her words were clipped.

  “Claire,” he said. “Can we talk about the other day, when you said it was hard for you with me here?”

  She closed her eyes and her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping the fabric. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. I want to make this work.”

  “Then please get help. You scared me that day. I want to make this work, too, but it’s hard for me to watch you suffer.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  But if she really knew, why wouldn’t she do anything about it? “Then let me take you to see someone.” He gestured to her radio and the swelling strains of screeching guitar that still filled the air. “You don’t have to live like this.”

  “I know,” she said, “but it’s...difficult.”

  “You know you can’t go on like this?”

  “Yes,” she said, the word inaudible amid the the racket in the room.

  “So, you’ll start counseling?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Lucas...”

  He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t make her get help and he couldn’t stay if she refused to do so on her own. He’d already watched one person he loved self-destruct. He wouldn’t stand by and watch another.

  He leaned his forehead against hers, his throat tight and burning. “Please, Claire.”

  She pulled back and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I...can’t.”

  He blinked against the gathering moisture in his eyes. He held her at arm’s length. “Then I’m sorry, Claire. I can’t do this.”

  The heaviness threatened to crush him as he grabbed his jacket and left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CLAIRE GRIPPED THE steering wheel and forced herself to focus on the road. Dark pavement flashed by, illuminated by the occasional streetlight. Holcomb Bridge Road was busy for a Saturday night in Roswell. As she weaved around other cars, she cranked up Guns N’ Roses on the radio, but the pounding beat did little to stop the swell of sadness overrunning her.

  Grey had been adamant about staying at Becca’s tonight. Claire rarely resorted to “because I said so,” but when he’d asked her why he couldn’t spend the night at his aunt’s, she couldn’t very well tell him that after nearly a week of Lucas avoiding her while she worked from the coffee shop, hoping to keep some connection, the thought of being alone in that house had her drowning in despair.

  The light turned to yellow, then red and she hit the brakes, stopping just before the intersection. Her heart thudded and the ache in her grew to all-consuming proportions. She didn’t even try to stop the tears as they rolled down her cheeks so the night became a blur of dark with splashes of light. She gave in to the grief as it racked her body in spasms of release.

  A horn honked behind her. The light had turned green. She wiped her hands across her eyes, and accelerated. A quick glance in the mirror as she passed a streetlight revealed her puffy eyes and red nose. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t show up at her sister’s looking like this.

  Ten minutes later she pulled into Becca’s street. She drove slowly to give herself time to recover. She rarely let herself lose control like that, but even apart from her situation with Lucas the week had been trying. A shipment had been destroyed in a storm and the parties were in a legal battle over the contract terms. She’d lost her analysis of her proposal for a new client and had to redo it at the last minute. One vendor had dropped her all together.

  She pulled into Becca’s driveway. And Grey... Things with Grey since the sleepover with Marty had gone from bad to worse. Whatever had happened that night hadn’t been good. It was as though Grey’s attitude had changed. He had zero tolerance for anything he labeled as abnormal behavior and she had a boatload of issues for him to jump on. As far as her son was concerned, she couldn’t do anything right and he had no problem letting her know that she had to fix it.

  And, of course, she couldn’t.

  She missed Lucas so much she ached with it. She’d continued to work at The Coffee Stop, hoping to catch a word with him, a friendly smile. What kind of crazy person did that after a man walked away from her the way he had?

  And now Grey had evidently arranged for them to buy the headstone for Lady with him tomorrow. How was she going to face him?

  I’m sorry, Claire. I can’t do this.

  His words had brought her to her knees. Thankfully, Grey and Marty had been occupied for the night, because she’d spent it in the fetal position on her floor. All Lucas wanted was for her to get help, for her to get better. She totally got that.

  But he didn’t understand that just the thought of talking about what had happened to her consumed her with terror. It was like asking her to go back to that day and relive it.

  If only she could make him understand. She scrubbed her hands over her face and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. As if to taunt her, her cell phone slid out onto the upholstery. Before she could change her mind, she’d picked it up and dialed Lucas’s number.

  Her heart pounded as it rang and she waited. Would he answer? Heaven help her, what was she doing?

  “Claire?” His soft baritone flowed to her over the connection.

  “Lucas...” Her eyes again filled and her throat clogged.

  “Are you okay?” His tone was concerned, not angry, not hurt, not frustrated—just honestly concerned.

  “No.”

  He was silent on his end.

  “I miss you,” she said.

  “I miss you, too.” His voice was tight, as though he were in pain.

  That made her cry all the harder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She hung up. Lucas had been right to leave her. She was a mess. How she was going to make it through tomorrow was beyond her.

  Again, she scrubbed her hands over her eyes, checking her reflection to make sure she was presentable. She wasn’t, but she’d been sitting in the driveway long enough to have everyone wondering.

  She pocketed her keys as she walked up the steep drive. “Honey, I want to fix myself,” she said to Grey although he wasn’t there, “but please let me do it in my own way.”

  Becca answered the door with a worried frown. “H
e’s in the den, but he’s not happy about having to leave. It really isn’t a problem for him to be here, Claire.”

  Claire tamped down her frustration. Becca was only trying to help. “I know, Becca,” she said. “But I want him home. We have an early start tomorrow.”

  Claire was ridiculously nervous at the prospect of spending time with Lucas again, even though it was only to appease her son. Grey had been uncharacteristically subdued when he’d told her he’d called Lucas to arrange the outing, though. She’d been too stunned to reprimand him for not asking her first. Would she have denied him?

  She found her son busily writing in a notebook while an action movie played on the TV. Kyle nodded to her from his place on the sofa.

  “Hello, Claire,” he said. He gestured toward the screen. “It’s a good one. Would you like to join us?”

  “Hello, Kyle. No...thanks, though. It’s late and Grey and I have an early morning.”

  Grey glanced at her, and then bent his head again over his notebook. “You and Lucas can pick me up from here on the way out in the morning.”

  “Remember, we’re having breakfast out first, a sit-down breakfast, and it will be early. We don’t want to disturb Becca and Kyle that early on a Sunday.”

  “They won’t mind. They’re up early. Amanda never sleeps in,” Grey said, without looking at her. “And a sit-down breakfast only counts if it’s at home.”

  Becca stepped into the room, stopping beside Claire. “Here’s your jacket, Grey. You can take that notebook with you, so you can keep working on your story.”

  Grey finally admitted defeat. He accepted his jacket from his aunt and said, “Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys today. I had a lot of fun.”

  Becca scooped him into an easy hug. Grey hugged her back with an intensity that made Claire’s throat burn. “Come on, honey,” she said. “We should get going.”

  “Maybe he could stay next weekend,” Becca suggested as she walked them to the door. “For the entire weekend. Amanda would love it. We all would. We’ll go to some of the historic houses in Roswell. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Grey?”

  “That would be great,” Grey said.

  Claire opened the door as the night blurred again. She blinked and took another slow breath to keep from losing it again. “Thanks for having him, Becca. We’ll see you at Atlanta Rocks tomorrow afternoon.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it.” Becca gave her a quick hug, then closed and bolted the door behind them. Grey didn’t speak to her for most of the way home and she was too exhausted to try to mend things with him, so she cranked the radio and focused on the road.

  They’d turned onto their street when Grey broke his silence. “What did you do this time?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To drive Lucas away. The last time you were mean to him because he helped me get the espresso machine. What happened this time?”

  There was no way she could tell her son about the panic attack she hadn’t been able to hold at bay. “We just needed a little break. He’s coming by in the morning, right? We’re going shopping for Lady’s headstone.”

  “He’s coming because I asked him to come. He was practically living with us and then he wasn’t. Why did you need a break? Who asked for it?”

  She pulled into the garage and got out of the car. Grey followed her into the house. “We both needed it. It isn’t easy being with someone all the time. We should have taken things more slowly at the start. We just jumped right in and then needed some space.”

  Grey stopped in front of her as they reached the living room and she turned on the TV. “But it’s harder for you, right, because of whatever is wrong with you?”

  She closed her eyes. She was so tired. Why did he have to grill her now? When she opened them, he stood with his arms crossed, mouth tight. She reached for him, but he twisted so her hand hit empty space.

  “Grey,” she said. “I know I’m not an easy person to live with and I’m sorry you have to deal with me. I have issues. I’m not normal. I admit it, okay? I’m working on it. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  His gaze pinned her. “I just want you to say you’ll fix whatever is wrong, so you won’t drive Lucas away again and so we can have normal.”

  How wonderful his version of life sounded. If only it were that easy. “I’m going to try, Grey, but you have to let me do this my way.”

  “Your way isn’t working, Mom.” With that he stalked to his room and slammed the door.

  She clicked on the TV and cranked the volume before beginning her circuit of the windows and doors. Somehow, she’d find a way to fix this, but she’d do it on her own.

  * * *

  LUCAS HESITATED AT Claire’s door. He still had the keys she’d given him, but he hadn’t been by in almost a week. Shaking his head, he pulled out his key ring and made quick work of the locks.

  I miss you.

  His throat tightened at the memory of her call. Didn’t she know how hard it was for him to stay away? But it was harder for him to stay. He’d wanted to tell Grey he and Claire could pick out the headstone on their own, but he hadn’t wanted to disappoint the boy.

  Maybe he could try to talk to Claire again. If she wouldn’t get help for herself, maybe he could convince her to do it for Grey. Then perhaps they could find a balance they could all live with.

  He pushed through the door, tilting his head to filter through the regular racket to see if he could tell where in the house Claire and Grey might be. He glanced at his watch. It was early yet; they might still be getting dressed.

  He padded down the hall to Claire’s room, the room he’d shared with her when he’d stayed here. The door stood ajar. Again, he hesitated. Was he still welcome?

  He tapped on the door. “Claire?”

  She didn’t answer, probably because she hadn’t heard. He stepped into the room and called a little louder. “Claire?”

  He moved past the bed, which was already made with her neat hospital corners and covered with the fluffy white comforter that held so many memories that now brought only pain and longing. A movement in the bathroom caught his eye.

  “Good morning,” he called.

  She stood before the mirror, applying mascara to her already dark lashes. Claire was stunning with or without makeup. Yearning filled him as he stepped into the bathroom.

  He moved behind her. She jumped, dropping her mascara, her hands splayed and eyes wide. He froze as she pressed her hands to her chest and sucked in deep lungfuls of air.

  Damn. In his first moments back here, he’d managed to scare the bejeezus out of her and possibly triggered another anxiety attack.

  He spread his hands, wanting to hold her in his arms to soothe her, but mindful that he’d ended things with her for a reason. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I knocked and called out several times. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  She turned, bracing herself against the counter. She nodded and shook out her hands, clenching and unclenching them. “I know. It’s okay.”

  He exhaled, his arms still spread. All she had to do was step into them. He ached to hold her. She leaned in, and he thought for a moment she might let him, but she merely retrieved her mascara from the floor.

  “Maybe we should start over,” he said. “Good morning.”

  She glanced at him in the mirror, her mouth a tight smile. “Good morning, Lucas. I’m almost ready. Could you please check to see if Grey is out of the shower?”

  “Sure.” He shook his head as he moved down the hall. Claire seemed more withdrawn than ever. It was as though she hadn’t called him last night.

  The bathroom door stood ajar, but the room was empty. The steam and a bunched towel on the floor were pretty good evidence the boy had at least showered. Lucas hung up the towel, then continued to Grey’s room. At least Grey would be happy to see him.

  Grey’s room was also empty, though the open drawers and the rumpled pajamas at the foot of the bed meant Grey was likely dressed. Si
nce he hadn’t been in the living room when Lucas had entered, that left only the kitchen.

  A light in Claire’s home office caught Lucas’s attention as he passed. Grey sat at the desk in front of Claire’s laptop. He glanced up as Lucas approached, but quickly returned his attention to the screen.

  “Hey.” Lucas pulled up a chair beside his young friend.

  “Hey.” Grey didn’t look at him.

  Lucas stemmed his disappointment at the lukewarm greeting. Was Grey upset that he hadn’t been around? Had he and Claire had a fight?

  Lucas turned his attention to the monitor. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking at headstones for Lady. There are tons online.” Grey glanced at Lucas. “I suggested to Mom we hang out here and find one online. Maybe have breakfast. Then you could finally fix the garbage disposal and I could help. Kind of like before.”

  “I take it your mom wasn’t too fond of the idea.”

  “It would mean staying home.” He made a general sweep of his arms. “I don’t get why she hates it here. This is a great house. She was in such a hurry to move in, like she really wanted to be here, so what’s the problem?” He pinned Lucas with a direct look. “What is her problem? Why won’t anyone but Marty talk to me about it?”

  “When did you move here?”

  Grey shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe like a year ago?”

  Lucas nodded. Did the move have anything to do with Claire’s trauma? Was that when it happened?

  “Marty, as in the kid from the park?” Lucas asked.

  “Yes, he was with me when we found Lady.”

  “What did Marty say?”

  Grey shook his head. “He spent the night and, you know, she’s worse at night. And, well, he noticed. When he left he told me he was sorry things are so screwed up here. It was humiliating.”

  “Grey,” Lucas said. “I know it’s tough for you, but you shouldn’t be humiliated.” Someone needed to explain things to the boy, but was that his place? “Your mom is a wonderful person, but she has issues she has to deal with. She’s trying, though.”