“There is honestly not much to tell. Serena and I—we’re having some adjustment issues. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. You and Justin just moved straight into high gear, huh?”
“It wasn’t as smooth as all that.”
“It wasn’t?” That was news to him. Yes, he’d been sixteen and bereaved, but it had always seemed as if they’d clicked right away and kind of accepted from the start that they’d be together forever.
But she shook her head. “I promise, there were growing pains along the way. Not that I ever harbored much doubt, but still, he kind of steamrolled his way into the middle of my life—both our lives—and it was...tricky, sometimes.”
Dillon tried to recast those days with this new light. It just didn’t fit. At least, not regarding Shannon. Justin had definitely steamrolled him, but Dillon had been so shut down, so full of teen angst ratcheted up to an extreme, that a steamroller was what he’d needed. “Huh.”
“Huh is right. I know you worship Justin, and of course the fact that you did worship him, back in those days, was one of the reasons I let myself fall in love with him. But he has faults, you know, and the steamroller thing ranks right up there.”
“Shan?”
“Oh, stop. It’s not an issue. We’re as head over heels as the parents of a colic monster are capable of being.”
“Don’t call my guy a monster.”
“He’s my guy, and I’m frankly a little put out with him at the moment, for being so settled with you. I just know that the moment I put him back in the car he’ll start screaming and not stop for an hour.”
“God, poor Toby.”
“Poor me.”
“Poor Shannon. And Justin. And Toby.”
“And poor Uncle Dillon. What’s the fight about?”
She was relentless. All those years of living with Justin had only honed her big sister radar. Dillon searched for the words that were true, but not true enough to subject himself to a serious talk. “I guess I was a little too steamroller myself. She’s pretty cautious, and even though it’s been going great, she’s scared, I guess, to look at the big picture.”
“And you want to be big picture already.”
“Look, Shannon, I know we’ve only been dating for a while....”
“Not even as long as Toby’s been alive,” she reminded him.
“Okay, no, not even that long. But for most of his life. And I think it can go for a lot longer.” Dillon looked down at his nephew, who emitted one of those crazily content baby sighs and sank deeper into his arms. “For the rest of his life,” he added quietly. “That’s what I want. For the rest of my life.”
Shannon tilted her head to the side to gaze at him. “Oh, Dill.”
“I’m not crazy. And I’ve liked her for months, remember. The day we met. You two were telling me ‘at last’ when we first got together, so don’t pretend you weren’t expecting this.”
Shannon squeezed Dillon's wrist and nodded. “Okay, yes, we knew you’d be falling for her, given half a chance. But maybe she’s not falling for you?”
“She is.”
“Don’t sound so grim about it.”
“Not grim. Sure. But she has these walls, you know? And every time I get too close to one, she has this look, and I end up backing way away. Which doesn’t seem to help things.”
“Have you considered looking for a gate?”
“A gate?”
“Extend your metaphor. Walls have gates. Find one, let yourself in. Or keep knocking until it’s opened. Don’t go sieging the walls and getting knocked back and returning to the same place. Definition of futility.”
Toby started to wriggle, so Dillon stood up and began to walk him in circles around the room, and suddenly his words were being sung into the baby’s ear. “So I drive my steamroller around and around, around and around, looking for a gate.”
“I’m stealing that tune.”
“And I drive that roller up to her door, her door, her door. For a knock one, two, three, knock one, two, three, knock, knock until she says hi.” He dipped and swayed in tempo.
“This is going to be a bestseller on the infant charts.”
“Little guy, your mama’s kinda mean, mean, mean. Let’s leave the room, I want to think, think, think.”
“Stay. I want to hear the next verse.”
“Little guy, your mama’s really snide, snide, snide. But you and me, we can hide, hide, hide. Come on, come on with me.” And with a grin over his shoulder, Dillon took Toby with him into the bedroom, where he rustled up a shirt. Of course, putting the baby on the bed so he could dress meant a heart-stopping moment of Toby gearing up for a scream session, but Dillon was quick. With maybe a second to go before the wailing started, he had Toby back up against his newly-clad shoulder, and kept up the low singing as they swayed around the room. “I confess I want Serena to be your aunt, aunt, aunt. But the way she is now I just can’t, can’t, can’t. It looks like I have to ask her to change, change, change. And if that goes bad it’ll be a shame, shame, shame.” He did a half spin, which made Toby’s arms flail, so Dillon tried to reign himself in. “Roll that steamroller on up to her gate, gate, gate,” he crooned and swayed. “Get your mean mama off my back, back, back. Send you on home to your dad, dad, dad. Figure out how to make your uncle glad, glad, glad.”
A few more nonsense minutes later, Dillon brought the zoned out Toby back to Shannon, who’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He threw a light blanket over her and kept the baby on his shoulder for another half-hour while single handedly rubbing out the coffee stain and heating up a couple of plates of leftovers for them to eat. By the time he’d seen them off, a little more rested and fed than before, Dillon felt perversely soothed himself. Nothing had been resolved, but fessing up to Shannon had been a necessary step.
All he had to do next was convince Serena that he would be patient, but would not be going away. And hope that Shannon was right about there being a gate somewhere that, eventually, would open up to him. Because if Serena thought he would back down from talk of love and involvement, she had another thing coming.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Awesome, you’re finally here,” Liza said as soon as they jogged into the Smoothie Shack on Wednesday afternoon. “How’s your hot sex life?”
“Are you asking me or Janice?”
“Funny. You, of course. It’s been forever since you guys came in. I was about to phone Lanigan myself to check up on you. You totally left me hanging.”
Janice tapped the menu laminated to the service counter to indicate her usual order, then turned to Serena. “Yeah, Toots, how’s the sex life?”
Oh, hell. Deflection time. “More to the point, how’s yours? And do you think I’m not telling Liza—blueberry mango, Liza, thanks—about you making goo-goo eyes at Miguel yesterday?”
“Goo-goo eyes! Do go on.”
“Well, since Janice sees a lot more of Miguel than I do, I can only imagine what’s going on between them. Passing notes along with the work orders, probably, and a little hip bumping as they walk the production floor? I really wouldn’t put anything past her.”
“For someone who gets her panties in a twist about even holding Dillon's hand in front of coworkers after hours, you sure have a very vivid imagination.”
“The question is, how close to true are these supposed imaginings of mine?”
Liza held up a shushing hand so she could run the blenders without missing any gossip. Once she’d shaken their orders into cups and stamped their frequent buyer cards, the three of them moved to the corner booth.
“Step back a minute. What is all this with Miguel? He’s the head of the warehouse, right?”
Janice nodded, but her cheeks flamed and she didn’t say a word. Interesting. Liza and Serena exchanged raised eyebrows, then just turned in unison and looked at her until she rolled her eyes at them.
“There’s no hip bumping going on.”
“Bumping boots?” Liza asked.
“Yo
u’re hilarious. No bumping in the warehouse. Or note passing, or whatever other perverse thing you two can dream up, so no point in asking whatever you were about to ask, Toots.“
“Well, something’s happening to get you shouting catcalls at him in front of his subordinates.”
“I was not shouting catcalls.”
“Whistles during lunchtime basketball. Plus she said ‘Good shot, Miguel’ instead of calling him ‘Toots,’” Serena explained to Liza.
“It was a good shot,” Janice added.
“Nevertheless. And then she started drooling over my shirtless boyfriend, and I decided it was well past time to drag her here so you could drag the truth out of her,” Serena told Liza, who grinned.
“I’m on the case. She’ll have to fess up, or I’ll ‘accidentally’ run out of the soy-based protein powder. It’ll be all brown rice, all the time, around here.”
“That’s dirty pool,” Janice protested.
“Well, you brought it on yourself. You may as well give in now before I start inventorying my amino acids incorrectly.”
“There are other smoothie shops, you know.”
“Are there? Are they within running distance of your office? Do they keep a monthly tab for you?”
Janice slumped. Slumped! It was as if her core muscles just gave out entirely. Serena was beginning to think this was pretty damn serious indeed. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Miguel asked me out.”
“Out out? Like a date?”
“No, like as opposed to inside. Of course like a date.”
“Geez, sorry,” Liza said. “I just—you haven’t been on a date in months.”
Janice stabbed the bottom of her cup with the straw. “I am aware of how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date. Not all of us have hot boyfriends or the kind of breathy voice that makes guys flock to her smoothie shop even though most men wouldn’t admit to a smoothie habit under torture.”
“I just happen to have a substantial male clientele.”
“And does the branch over by Greenway Plaza also happen to have a substantial male clientele?”
“I’m not aware of their demographics,” Liza said as primly as her sultry voice would allow. She waved that aside. “The important thing here is, when did this happen, and what did you say, and have you already been out? In other words, I need details. Lots and lots and lots of details.”
Janice tried to wriggle out a bit more, but even she knew it was hopeless. It turned out that Miguel had been friendlier and friendlier since the incident with Ricky the Jerk Forklift Driver, and Janice had found herself softening towards him, ever so gradually. And Friday after everyone had punched out, Miguel had shown up in Janice’s office with a fully formed date plan to spring on her.
“Wait, so that’s where you were instead of at Eddie’s? Jeez, you left me practically in the middle of a frat party there. I hope it was worth it.”
“You had Dillon, don’t complain, Toots.”
Serena put a lid on the stinging behind her eyes at Janice’s offhand comment. She’d had him all right, that night. And the next morning, he’d moved her furniture and everything had changed. Another night without a word from him, another day so far without a moment together. Serena was sure they’d had more contact back when she was allergic to him. She remembered checking for hives and short breath several times a day, between phone calls and emails and face to face moments. Probably she still had a chart somewhere. If she compared it to a chart of contact from this week, she would feel too like a stockbroker the day after a crash.
Liza wasn’t as easily distracted as Serena. “So he had a whole plan? And he just thought you’d drop everything and follow it?”
Janice nodded, stirring the dregs of her smoothie.
“And you dropped everything and followed it, huh?” Liza asked.
“The ‘everything’ in question was a night at Eddie’s watching him light up his farts, apparently, so I’m not thinking it was much of a loss.”
“Well?” Serena prompted, when Janice stopped there.
“Well, what?”
“Was it much of a loss? What was this plan? Did it involve bumping in any way?” Liza answered.
Janice shook her head, a reluctant smile playing across her face. “It was a disaster. Fart flames might have been preferable.”
“Details!” Liza turned to Serena. “Haven’t I explained how I need details?”
Serena confirmed that she had. “It can’t have been that big a failure, if you’re openly ogling him on the basketball half-court.”
“I never said it was a failure. I just said it was a disaster.” But no matter how Serena joined with Liza’s pleas for more information, Janice was done talking about it. Apparently all she’d needed was a decent run and to drop a few hints to feel more in command of herself. Serena figured that as long as that was also enough to get Janice to stop bringing up Dillon's sex appeal, she would have to be content. Fortunately, Liza had a couple of stories about her own, often chaotic love life to tell, which kept Dillon off the radar.
On the way back to Lanigan, though, Janice said, “So, Toots, you and other Toots, off tomorrow on an all-expense paid romantic getaway. Way to go with getting the company to pay for your booty call.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Of course it’s not.”
“Janice.”
“Oh, relax, Toots. I’m teasing. And I’m not an idiot, you know. I can tell there’s something up with you two.”
Serena glanced away, unsure what to say. Janice had opened up some about Miguel, and she didn’t want to be coy in return. But whatever was happening, Janice and Dillon were coworkers with a relationship independent of her. It wouldn’t be fair to put his actions out there to be picked over.
“Relax, Toots, honestly. It can’t be tragic or you’d find a way out of this Galveston trip. You don’t have to go into it. I’m here if you want me to be here, though, you know? I’ll just listen and give you the motherly advice your own mother is too busy doling out to the steps to give you.”
Serena had a momentary vision, then, of her and her mom sitting at the scarred walnut table by the back door of the duplex the two of them had lived in for her early teen years, between Mom’s marriages to Erik and Samuel. It was actually just five houses down from the duplex they’d lived in right after her parents had split up, and had a nearly-identical layout. Kind of a Twilight Zone-version of familiarity, being just the two of them again, but with her mom a lot less of an auto-pilot zombie. Even though Mom hadn’t shied from sharing her righteous indignation about Erik, she’d managed to be pretty focused on Serena’s own middle school and high school dramas. They’d ranted about stupid boys at that table, and her mom had sometimes managed to slip in suggestions that Serena deigned to hear. Occasionally she’d even admitted to Mom that her ideas had worked.
It must have been good practice for Mom for when she found herself stepmother to the Three Rs, who’d all been in high school when Zane became her third—and longest-lasting—stepfather. Not that she thought of him like that, since she’d been in her college when she got the wedding invitation. In her nicer moments, she even remembered not to act amazed that they’d been together for close to a decade already. If she ever had a truly, deeply nice moment, she’d go ahead and invite them to dinner as Becky had commanded. Serena let out a long, slow breath and bumped her hip against her friend’s. “There. Send that to the rumor mill,” she said, grateful she wasn’t being pressured. “And the same goes for me—if you need an ear about Miguel or whatever, you’ve got it.”
“Thanks, Toots. Thanks for the run today, too.”
“Any old time. Except next month, when it gets unbearably hot, and for the three months after that.”
“You’re a pal.”
Laughing, they headed through the lobby and up to Lanigan’s offices. Serena felt lighter than she had for days.
Once again, Serena had strolled right past him at lunchtime without even a glance in his
direction. Bailing for burritos on Monday, walking off at the game Tuesday, and now appearing—pretending?—not to notice him standing in front of the elevators while she and Janice chatted their way up the stairs. Dillon suppressed a growl. It was beginning to feel like a scorecard, and one that didn’t bode well for his chances in the playoffs.
Before he got too annoyed, though, he hummed the “gate, gate, gate” song he’d invented for Tobias, and tied himself to his desk to finish up a few edits. He didn’t want to call Serena out on her blow offs in the middle of work, since that was contrary to the knocking at the gate plan, and he would have her to himself for eighteen or twenty hours soon. If she thought she could keep him at arm’s length during the overnight, she was an idiot. And Dillon didn’t date idiots. Therefore, she knew good and well that the reckoning was fast approaching, and he’d vowed to himself to be the patient one. Patiently relentless. Serena would listen to him saying “I love you,” if it was the last thing he did.
Before he had to resort to lullabies to calm down again, an email from the woman herself popped in: “Dillon, Mrs. Kirby is expecting us between 2:30 and 3:00 tomorrow. I thought we could head out after lunch, or eat it on the road, if you want? Also, I can swing by and pick you up in the morning, if you like, so we just have the one car and you don’t have to leave yours in the L parking lot. Let me know if that works. S.”
Well, that was better.
“My sister’s gonna have to eat her words, words, words. Justin and his theories are absurd, absurd, absurd,” he sang as he typed a quick reply, asking Serena to pick him up by a quarter till nine in the morning. He made it positive, and affectionate, but not pushy. Didn’t suggest they spend the night together to make carpooling easier, but did tell her he’d pack the small bottle of her favorite co-op shampoo so she wouldn’t have to bring her own. He was still humming when Eddie walked past his office.
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