Some Sort of Love: A Happy Crazy Love Novel

by Melanie Harlow

  “How do you know all this?” I shook my head. “You’re like an expert.”

  He grinned and tipped back his glass again. “‘Cause I had to do it too.”

  I thought about it for a minute as I took a few sips of my beer. “Her job is important to her, but I think family is the closest thing to her heart.”

  “I think you’re right,” said Sebastian. “The Nixons are a tight bunch. But they’re great, too. You’ll love them.”

  My insides warmed as I thought about the Nixons letting me and Scotty into their clan. It would be good for both of us. Suddenly it made even more sense, her feelings about being on the inside of my life. When you come from a close family like hers, you want that for yourself. “Any ideas for a fucking amazing way to impress her?”

  Sebastian went silent.

  “Actually,” Miles said, his eyes lighting up, “I do have an idea. I happen to know that the entire Nixon family will be at a party at Abelard Vineyards on Christmas Eve. And no one knows this, but something pretty fucking cool is going to take place. I think it would mean a lot to her that you were there that night.”

  “Really?” Sebastian looked at Miles.

  “Really.” Miles gave him a warning look. “But you can’t say a word. Natalie would fucking kill me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Christmas Eve, huh?” An idea was taking shape in my brain. “I think I could be there.”

  “Good.” Miles raised his beer. “Cheers, brothers.”

  Christmas Eve was five days away, but there was no way I could wait that long before contacting Jillian. One, I missed her too fucking much, and patience where she’s concerned had never been a virtue of mine; and two, I didn’t want her to suffer anymore. If she was half as miserable as I was, she was barely getting through a day.

  I called her the day after I met Sebastian and Miles at the bar. It went to voicemail.

  “Hey, beautiful. I miss you so much, and I hope you’re doing OK. I know I have not behaved well and don’t deserve another chance, but if you can meet me this week for coffee or a drink or dinner—anything—I’d love to see you. Let me know.”

  I pressed end, feeling like I hadn’t said the right things to convince her, but what could I do? I wasn’t a poet, I had no singing voice, no magic words—I was just an imperfect guy hoping the perfect girl would love him.

  She called me back after work that night.

  “Hi,” she said when I answered. “I got your message.”

  “Hey.” The sound of her voice made my heart beat faster. “I’m so glad you called.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “I wouldn’t have blamed you.” I set a plate of (cold) chicken, frozen peas, a warm—not hot—dinner roll, and a slice of cantaloupe on the island for Scotty. “Come and eat,” I called to him where he was playing on the family room rug.

  “Oh, are you having dinner?” she said. “Just call me later.”

  “No! I mean, yes, of course I will, if you want, but have you thought about my invitation?”

  “I’m…still thinking.”

  My spirits flagged a little. “I understand. Anything I can say to persuade you to say yes? I’ll say it.”

  “I don’t know. I miss you, and I want to see you, but…what’s different this time, Levi?”

  “Everything,” I promised. It suddenly occurred to me that my invitation on her voicemail hadn’t made that clear. I’d just invited her out like I used to. “In fact, I want to amend my earlier offer. Instead of coffee or a drink, why don’t you come over for dinner Friday night?”

  “To your house?”

  “Yes. I want to introduce you to Scotty.”

  She sighed. “Levi, you know I’d love that, but I’m not doing it if this is just what you think I want to hear.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “In fact, it’s not for you at all, it’s for me. You know how selfish I am.” I heard her laugh, and it made me smile.

  “OK, then…OK. I’ll come over Friday.”

  “Great. I’ve been talking about you a little.”

  “You have?”

  I smiled even bigger at the shock in her voice. “Yeah. He looked a little worried when I said you were a doctor—he doesn’t love checkups—so don’t wear the white coat.”

  She laughed. “I’ll be sure to leave that behind. Can I bring anything?”

  “Nope. Just your company.”

  “What time?”

  “Is six OK?”

  “Yes, I’ll come right from work.”

  “Perfect. Can’t wait to see you.”

  “Same. I miss you. And I can’t wait to meet Scotty.”

  We hung up, and I felt better than I had in a month. I could do this. I looked over at Scotty, who was carefully scooping his frozen peas onto his yellow spoon, a few spilling off the plate, and felt a rush of love for him, too. Neither of us was perfect, but we tried.

  Sometimes that’s all you can do.

  • • •

  I called my mother that night too. As I’d suspected, it didn’t go over well that I wouldn’t be at their house on Christmas Eve until I hinted at something bigger than just the holiday.

  “I understand that you have to make things up to her, but why does it have to be on Christmas Eve? That’s for family.”

  “That’s the point, Mom.”

  “But those people aren’t your family.”

  “But I’m hoping they will be.”

  She gasped. “What? What does that mean?”

  “It means that I’m serious about her, and I have to show her that I want her to be in my life, and I want to be in hers.”

  “Well, what about Scotty? Why don’t you bring him here to spend the night with us while you go to her party, and then you can come up here afterward to sleep and you both wake up here on Christmas morning. Just like it used to be!” she said brightly, as if she’d found the perfect solution.

  “No, Mom. I don’t want what used to be. I want to make new traditions. I want to be with Scotty and Jillian on Christmas Eve, and wake up with Scotty in our house.”

  She sighed, a big, dramatic Mom Sigh. “Fine,” she said. “I understand. You’ll still come for brunch Christmas Day though, right?”

  “We’ll be there. Would it be OK to bring Jillian?”

  “Of course!” She perked right up. “We’d love to have her!”

  “Good. We’ll see you then.”

  • • •

  In the days leading up to Friday, I spoke about Jillian to Scotty. He listened, I think, but whenever he’d ask about her, he’d refer to her as Ellie, no matter how many times I reminded him her name was Jillian. It was sort of sweet, and very Scotty, so after a while I gave up correcting him and figured it would work itself out on its own—or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he’d call her Ellie for the rest of her life. Somehow, I knew she’d be OK with that, because it meant Scotty recognized that we loved each other.

  As long as he didn’t start calling me Carl.

  I hadn’t been this nervous since my board exams. Walking up the front steps of Levi’s house, my knees knocked, my hands shook, and my stomach flip-flopped like a fish out of water. At the front door, I took a second to stand still, breathing slowly and deeply. On the count of three, I knocked.

  Levi pulled the door open, and I barely had a chance to look at him before he grabbed me and pulled me to his chest, hugging me so tight I could hardly breathe.

  “It’s so good to see you,” he said in my ear. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you too.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and breathed him in. This felt so good. Was he really ready to move forward, get past his fears? God, I hoped so. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but all I needed to hear was that he was willing to try.

  “You’re freezing,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down my back.

  “It is pretty cold. I think we’re going to get some snow too. But I’m fine.”

  He released me, kissing me hard on the
lips before taking my hand. “Come on in. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  My heart hammered in my chest as he walked me from the front entrance through a small formal dining room into a family room that was open to the kitchen. For a guy’s house, it was decorated nicely—art on the walls, beautiful finishes like granite counters and polished wood floors, fabrics and paint colors that complemented each other in warm neutrals. I don’t know why it surprised me, since he was an architect and had an eye for design, but he was always referring to himself as such a caveman. What kind of caveman has throw pillows on the couch and candles on the dining room table?

  “Hey, Scotty. Come here.” Levi held on to my hand as Scotty got off the floor where he’d been playing and came over to us.

  My heart ached, and I squeezed Levi’s hand. He was so sweet. Huge, dark eyes like his dad’s, the same thick, tousled brown hair, those adorable ears that stuck out a little. He didn’t quite meet my eyes, but that was OK.

  “Hello,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Hello.” I dropped Levi’s hand and took his son’s, leaning down. “I’m Jillian. Nice to meet you, Scotty.”

  “Nice to meet you, Scotty,” he repeated.

  Levi and I exchanged a smile. “I hear you like baseball. I do too.”

  “Babe Ruth hit sixty home runs in 1927,” he told me, twirling his hand in his hair.

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s impressive. Is he your favorite player?”

  “Who do you like on the Tigers, Scotty?” Levi prompted. “Who do we want to go see hit a home run at Comerica Park?”

  “Miguel Cabrera has 408 career home runs,” Scotty said.

  “I like Martinez,” I told him.

  “J.D. Martinez. Eighty-five career home runs, thirty-eight last season.”

  “You know your stuff.” I smiled at him. “Very impressive.”

  “What do you say, Scotty?” Levi asked.

  “What do you say, Scotty?” he repeated.

  “You say thank you.” Levi’s voice was firm but kind.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I met Levi’s eyes and saw they were shining.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Jillian?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  “Can I have my iPad?” Scotty asked hopefully.

  “Sure, buddy.” Levi ruffled his hair. “Go check off swim therapy on your chart and then grab it.”

  Levi poured some wine for us, and I sat at the island while he prepared dinner. Watching him move easily in his kitchen, managing several tasks at once, turned me on so much I had to cross my legs. Put those thoughts away, I told myself. That is not why you’re here, and it’s not happening tonight. But part of me understood why Levi always wanted to meet out or at my house—when we only got to see each other once a week, we wanted to do more than look.

  But this was a different kind of night.

  It was the kind of night that made me feel good in other ways—I felt a part of something. I felt the love between Levi and his son. I felt the effort Levi was making to show me there was a place for me in his life, a place for the love we shared. And I felt even more respect and admiration for him as a father, understood better the weight that being Scotty’s only parent placed on him, as well as the joy it brought him.

  When dinner was over, I insisted on helping with the dishes, and when they were loaded and the food put away, Levi told Scotty he could have some extra playtime while he showed me the house.

  My heart beat faster at the thought of being alone with him, even though I knew we couldn’t have sex.

  Which was why I got the wind knocked out of me when Levi shut his bedroom door behind us and caged me against it, crushing his lips to mine.

  I gave up on breathing and kissed him back, my body straining against his.

  “I fucking want you so badly right now,” he whispered. “You have no idea.”

  “Uh, yes I do,” I said as he wedged one thigh between my legs. “Believe me.”

  “I’m sorry we have to wait.”

  “It’s OK, really.”

  “God, Jillian.” He shook his head, his eyes serious. “Tell me we’re OK. Tell me I didn’t fuck this up. I’m so sorry.”

  “We’re OK,” I said. “This is what I wanted. To know what it was like to be here with you.”

  He let my arms drop and gathered me against him. “I love you here with me. With us. I thought being a good father meant I had to deny this part of myself, but it wasn’t true. I had to accept it, without fear or reservation. I want Scotty to see what love looks like, all kinds of love.”

  I locked my hands behind his back. “Scotty is so sweet.”

  “He is. He’s also having a very good day. A good week, actually. It does get harder than this.”

  I slapped him lightly on the butt. “Such a pessimist.”

  “I’m serious. You need to know that.”

  “I know. I’m teasing you. And it’s OK—we all have good days and bad. Nothing and no one is perfect.”

  “I love you.” He kissed my head.

  “I love you too.”

  • • •

  When it got close to nine, I saw that Scotty was getting tired and knew how important it was that he get to bed at the regular time. Levi helped me with my coat, threw his on as well, and walked me to my car. Snowflakes were starting to fall.

  “So what will you do for Christmas?” he asked. “Do you go to your mom’s?”

  “Usually,” I said, shivering. “Ooh, it’s cold. But this year we’re going to a party at the winery where Skylar works on Christmas Eve, and then to my mom’s on Christmas Day for dinner. What about you? Heading up to Charlevoix?”

  He nodded and wrapped his arms around me to keep me warm. “Yes,” he said, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “And you are invited to come to brunch there on Christmas morning.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “I love how that lit you up.”

  “Well, that’s exciting for me, to meet your family. I want you to meet mine, too. You and Scotty.”

  “That would be nice,” he said.

  “Could you…could you maybe stop by the winery on Christmas Eve?” I asked hopefully. “It would be so nice to see you that night.”

  “I wish I could,” he said, “but I think my mother would kill me. Now you better go, before you get frostbite out here.”

  “OK.” I tried not to feel too disappointed. Being invited to Christmas Day brunch was amazing, and I couldn’t wait to tell my sisters.

  We kissed goodnight, and he opened the car door for me. “Drive carefully, OK? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “I will. I love you.”

  He smiled. “I love you too.”

  • • •

  Life got a little hectic in the days before Christmas, and we didn’t get another chance to see each other before he had to leave for Charlevoix, although we spoke every day. He called me on his way up.

  “Are you getting ready for the party?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, hunting around for the right earrings for my dress. “I wish you were coming with me.” It was our first Christmas Eve as a couple, and we had to spend it apart. I was trying not to feel sad about that.

  “I know. I’m sorry. My mom is all insistent that Christmas Eve is for family.”

  That made my heart ache a little. “I get it.”

  “Well, listen. I better go. Roads aren’t great and it’s getting dark. You have fun tonight and call me in the morning when you’re heading out. You have directions and the address, right?”

  “Yes. Drive carefully, please,” I begged, worried about him on the dark, snowy highways.

  “I will. Love you. Merry Christmas.”

  “Love you, too. Merry Christmas.”

  I hung up and finished getting ready, trying to focus on all the good things in my life, not on how much I’d miss him tonight. But it was hard.

  Christmas Eve was
for family, his mother insisted. I didn’t disagree, and I loved my family fiercely. But I wanted him in it.

  Was that crazy?

  I set the phone down and smiled. Pulling off the white lie about tonight hadn’t been easy, since I was so bad at deception, but every time I thought about her face when she saw Scotty and me at the party tonight, it gave me the strength to keep up the act. At least she couldn’t see my face today, I thought, which hadn’t been straight at all during our conversation. It had been much harder the other night when I’d had to turn down her invitation in person.

  I felt a twinge of guilt thinking about the comment I’d made regarding family but decided it would make her that much happier when she saw that family to me included everyone I loved most—and that meant her.

  I hummed a holiday tune as I went to collect Scotty from his room for his shower. “Ready, bud?”

  “Yes,” he said, putting his hands over his ears. “But Dad. Stop singing.”

  I grinned. “You got it.”

  • • •

  “Where are you going?” he asked as I drove through the snowy dark up the highway on Old Mission peninsula.

  “We are going to a Christmas party.”

  “At Grandma’s house?”

  “No, at a new place.”

  “This is a snowstorm.” Worry made his voice shake a little.

  “Don’t worry, I’m driving nice and slow, see? It’s not bad. And there will be treats there.” I’d double-checked with Sebastian that it was OK for Scotty and me to be there, and he said Skylar was thrilled and wouldn’t say a word to Jillian about it. I’d also asked about how many people would attend, and while he wasn’t positive, he didn’t think it would be more than thirty.

  Miles had told him to let me know I should arrive by eight, so I tried to leave extra time for the drive, knowing the roads would be slow. We pulled up at the winery at about five to eight, and I felt exceedingly proud of myself for being on time. With a quick thank you, God for letting Scotty have a good day today, I got out of the car, took Scotty’s hand, and hustled up the front steps.

  The winery looked beautiful, the tasting room decked with candles, white lights and holly, mistletoe hanging in every archway, and a huge evergreen tree in one corner, hung with French-themed ornaments and colored bulbs, a fleur-de-lis at the top. Instrumental carols played on hidden speakers, the wine flowed, and the food was delicious. Instead of tables and chairs, as there had been for the rehearsal dinner, the room was staged with cozy couches and chairs in conversational groupings to encourage mingling, but I noticed that the area in front of the fireplace had been cleared. Maybe they didn’t want anyone sitting too close to the fire, which crackled and popped, giving the room a warm glow.