by Lucy Score
“How great of a guy is he that he lets you move his two kids away from him?” Joey countered.
“He just doesn’t like to be tied down. Didn’t even try to talk me out of leaving,” Gia said, digging into her pasta.
“He didn’t put up a fight for his family,” Summer sighed. “That’s just sad. And it makes me sad for him. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”
“Exactly,” Gia agreed.
“But you’re here now, starting your own business, raising your kids in a great town, and — in your spare time — making out with the mayor in his house,” Joey reminded her.
“And in his shed,” Gia joked. “But you’re right. This is where I’m meant to raise my family. I think we’re all going to be happy here.”
“I think so, too,” Summer said, patting her hand again.
“Speaking of families,” Joey interjected. “What’s the story with Evan’s mom?”
Gia saw Joey jolt in her chair.
“Ouch! You didn’t have to kick me,” she said to Summer, rubbing her shin under the table. “Gia is perfectly capable of forming the words ‘none of your damn business.’”
“So dragging details of my near-tryst out of me is fine, but asking about my ex-husband’s ex-wife is crossing the line?” Gia was amused.
“I see your point,” Summer conceded. “My apologies to you both.”
“You’re not forgiven. I need this leg for stuff,” Joey sulked.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you about Evan’s mom?” Gia offered.
“Yep,” a fully recovered Joey said.
“I never met her,” Gia began. “She was long gone before I came into the picture. Paul was a few years older than me. Evan was six and the cutest little boy. I loved him before I loved Paul. Never could understand how she walked away from him.” She shook her head sadly.
“She just left?” Summer asked.
“She was a singer. That’s how she and Paul met. He said one day he came home and she was packing. Told him she got some gig on a cruise ship and that he had to keep Evan because she didn’t know when she’d be back.”
“Bitch,” Joey said succinctly.
Gia nodded. “No argument here. I met Paul shortly after that. We’d been married about six months when he learned that she’d died.”
“Someone shove her overboard?” Joey asked.
“Let’s just say that she considered her body to be more of a dumpster than a temple.”
“Does Evan ever talk about her?” Summer wondered.
“No.”
But he did talk about his father and made sure to remind Gia that she wasn’t his real parent. She could have been, had she pushed harder. She should have. Everyone deserved to have someone fight for them.
“So, can we talk about someone else now?” she asked.
“You and Joey can compare notes on kissing Beckett,” Summer suggested.
14
It was after seven on a Wednesday when Gia had to extricate herself from crow pose to answer the knock at the door. She tagged Aurora to take over for her in the yoga competition with Evan on his gaming system.
Her heart rate kicked up a notch when she glimpsed Beckett through the glass. Off limits, she reminded herself.
“Hi,” she said, opening the door.
He was dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeve Henley that matched his eyes. His hair, just turning to curl on top, looked like it had been styled by a professional. “Hi,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She’d wanted to ask him if he’d seen the post in Blue Moon’s Facebook group — the group that she joined as soon as she realized it was speculating about her future — but decided it would be opening a can of worms that didn’t need to be opened.
“Come on in,” she said, holding the door for him.
“Hey, Beckett,” Evan called from his downward facing dog in front of the TV.
“Hi, Bucket,” Aurora chirped, trying to mimic her brother’s pose.
“Hey, guys. Is this some kind of child torture?” he asked, feigning concern.
“It’s gaming night,” Evan announced. “Gia and I battle it out in two events. I let her win at yoga and then I destroy her in baseball or bowling.”
“I win, too,” Aurora interjected, her red curls bouncing emphatically. “I win at ponies with Mama!”
“Ponies?” Beckett asked.
“It’s this god-awful glitter bomb game with horrible music,” Gia whispered.
“Want to play ponies with me, Bucket? I can show you how.” Aurora danced over to them.
“Uh …”
“Beckett’s really busy, Rora. Maybe some other time,” Gia told her daughter.
Aurora’s lower lip popped out, her green eyes widened and began to water.
“What is this? What’s happening?” Beckett asked in a panic.
“She’s just playing you,” Gia warned him. “Stay strong.”
“Please, Bucket?”
Gia rolled her eyes at her daughter’s faux devastation.
“I guess I could play one game?” Beckett said, the words tumbling out.
Aurora’s watery gaze cleared immediately. “Yes!” She punched her little fist in the air. “Van, me and Bucket are playin’ ponies.”
“Fine, but then he has to play baseball with me,” Evan bargained.
“’Kay. Me first though, right?”
“Sucker,” Gia coughed.
“You can’t tell me you can say no to that,” Beckett protested.
“I’m a parent. It’s my job to say no to that,” she countered.
“I’m not buying it.”
Gia turned to face him. She tilted her head to the side and poked out her lower lip making it tremble ever so slightly. She furrowed her brow and gazed up at him with all the sadness she could muster.
Beckett grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t ever look at me like that again. I’m begging you.”
Gia grinned, enjoying his discomfort. “I invented that look. That’s why I’m immune to it. Wait’ll you see Evan’s disappointed face. That one’s a killer.”
Beckett shuddered and dropped his hands. “I hope to God I never see it.”
Aurora grabbed him by the wrist. “C’mon, Bucket! It’s time for ponies!”
“Do you like apple pie?” Gia called after him, laughter ringing in her voice.
Beckett had apple pie with ice cream and played video games. And spent the evening feeling grateful for the fact that Gianna lived in his backyard safe from the prying eyes of Blue Moon. Just a neighborly visit, he reminded himself.
It wasn’t a bad way to wrap up his day, he thought as he chased after Evan’s long drive to centerfield. Aurora had killed him at Pink Rainbow Ponies and he was determined to give her brother a run for his money.
He wasn’t sure if it was the homemade apple pie, the giggles from the kids, or the constant music that flowed from a stereo in the corner, but Gia had made his guesthouse feel like a home.
The living room furniture was worn, but comfortable. Mismatched frames held pictures of the kids, the kids and Gia, even Franklin. The framed images told the story of their family. There were two pictures of the man Beckett assumed was the kids’ father. In the first, he was onstage behind a drum kit, the stage lights painting him in blue.
The other showed him sitting at a bar, drumsticks in his back pocket and sunglasses on his face. Beckett could make out just enough of Evan in the man’s jawline and nose.
There were no pictures of him with the kids or with Gianna and he wondered if that was selective editing or, more likely, he hadn’t been around to be in any of the pictures.
He noticed she’d hung soft, colorful tapestries from the walls and tucked candles into nooks and crannies, adding bits of color and texture to the living space. They ate off of simple white dishes that Gianna washed by hand, though not without telling Beckett the charm of the house had only barely offset the lack of a dishwasher.
It was a tidy and cozy home full of life and laughter.
At eight, Aurora argued and bargained her way upstairs to bed. At nine, it was Evan’s turn. He didn’t put up the fight that his sister had, but hugged both Gia and Beckett before forlornly shuffling up the stairs.
“A voluntary bedtime hug,” Gia sighed, sliding onto the arm of the couch. “That’s a good day.”
“That’s not an every night occurrence?” Beckett asked, leaning back against the cushions.
“Sometimes I have to chase him upstairs and threaten to hold a pillow over his face first.”
“You’re really good at this, Gianna,” Beckett said, studying her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I try hard. It’s a constant balancing act and a lot of times I feel like I’m failing.”
Beckett reached out and grabbed her foot, tugging her down onto the cushion beside him. “You’re not failing.”
“Oh, I’m getting very close. Do you want to see my dirty little secret?”
“More than anything in the world,” Beckett said, stroking his thumb across the bottom of her bare foot.
She bit her lip, and he felt his blood rush south so fast he saw stars. She had the power over him to make him hard in a second. It was disconcerting, yet not enough to make him leave her alone.
“Come here.” She rose and pulled him with her to the glass doors that led to what had been a sun porch.
She was taking him to her bedroom. Panic spiked in Beckett’s veins. He wasn’t prepared to be strong enough for the both of them. Especially not if a bed was in view.
“I don’t know if this is a good —”
“This is my dirty little secret,” Gia announced, pushing open one of the doors.
The gauzy curtains on the other side of the glass had blocked the nightmare beyond. There was indeed a bed set back against the far wall, but in order to get to it, one would have to weave through dozens of boxes, piles of clothing and books, and a tangled mountain of home décor and yoga accessories. In the corner opposite the doors a yoga mat was rolled out
“What is this?” Beckett winced.
“My bedroom slash office slash studio,” she said with resignation. “It’s awful isn’t it? I just wanted to get the house together for the kids. You know, make the transition a little easier?”
“So everything that didn’t have a place landed here?” He caught a sweatshirt that started to tumble off the mirror of a dresser that was buried under boxes. A swatch of lace floated out of the hood. He picked it up before realizing it was a pink thong.
“It looks like a hoarder lives here,” he said.
Gia nodded looking at the chaos. “Come to think of it, we did have a cat when we moved in.”
Beckett felt the color drain from his face.
“I’m just kidding,” she said, smacking him in the chest.
Distracted, Beckett wrapped the lace around his fingers. “Gianna, you can’t live like this.”
“I know,” she said, pushing him back out the door and closing it behind her. “I just haven’t had time to fix it. If I’m here, I’m with the kids making sure they stay alive, eat, go to bed, do their homework. And if I’m not here, I’m at the studio. When I finally have some time, I’ll take care of this. I’m just starting to worry that I’ll never find the time.”
“Did you at least find your shoes?”
She nodded. “I found the box.”
“And?”
“And it’s in there somewhere.”
“My God, Red. I’m breaking out in hives just thinking about you going in there at night. What if there’s a stuff avalanche and you get buried alive?”
She was staring up at him with an odd mixture of amusement and sadness. It tugged at him and made him want to reach out to touch her. Pull her in close and tell her that everything was going to work out. But he didn’t.
“See? My balance isn’t so great.”
“Gianna, you don’t have to do everything yourself,” Beckett reminded her. “You have … family.”
She shook her head. “My dad has given me so much in my lifetime. It’s not fair to ask him to help me clean up my own literal mess.”
They were quiet for a few moments. “I should go,” Beckett said finally.
Her expression went a little sadder. “Thanks for coming over. It was really nice.”
“It was.” He meant it, too. “Thanks for the pie.”
She lifted onto her toes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for the company.”
He let himself out, using all his will not to look over his shoulder at Gianna. If he did, he was afraid he’d end up dragging her back to her bedroom and spend the night making love to her or helping her organize the mess. He wasn’t sure which urge would win out.
He’d made it halfway across the yard before he realized he hadn’t gotten around to telling her the reason for his visit. Beckett briefly debated just going home and talking to her tomorrow. But once he realized he still had her skimpy little thong wound around his hand, he reconsidered.
He knocked softly on her front door and saw her turn away from the sink. She padded over to the door and opened it.
“Miss me already?” she teased.
He held up her underwear between his fingers. “I accidentally took these.”
Gianna pressed her lips together and grabbed the thong out of his hands. Her green eyes danced with humor and heat. “Thank you for returning them. They’re one of the only pairs that I can find.”
Great. Now he was going to think about her running around town without underwear. He shook his head, trying to rattle that thought out of his mind.
“I also forgot to tell you why I came over in the first place.”
“You weren’t just being neighborly?” she laughed.
“There’s a town meeting tomorrow night. It’s always good for business owners to attend and we’ll be talking about the Halloween carnival, too, in case you were thinking about taking the kids.”
“Thanks, Beckett. I’d like to come.”
Yes, he’d like her to as well, he thought darkly.
15
There were so many people out on the streets of Blue Moon when she locked up the studio that Gia wondered if the Pope or Pink Floyd had come to town. But as she watched everyone funnel into the second-run movie theater on the far end of the square, she realized they were all there for the town meeting.
Apparently the theater was the only venue large enough to handle the attendance.
Gia hustled through the park to the well-worn theater. The smell of fresh popcorn teased her when she opened the heavy door. She was delighted to see that the concession stand was open. She treated herself to a box of malted milk balls and stepped into the theater. The Art Deco-style theater boasted romantic frescos and hand-painted pillars that held up the fading, muraled ceiling. On the weathered stage in front of them was a podium flanked by a handful of metal folding chairs. A heavy velvet curtain covered the movie screen behind the chairs.
She found a seat on a worn velour cushion in the middle section next to Beverly from the HVAC place in town.
Beverly was working her way through a tub of popcorn the size of an ottoman. “They always get me with the ‘You can full-moon-size that for just a dollar more,’” she said shaking her head. She tilted the greasy bucket toward Gia. “Want some?”
Coming straight from her last class of the day, Gia was ravenous. “Thanks,” she said, helping herself to a handful. “This is my first town meeting. So far I’m a fan.”
“You’re in for a treat,” Beverly predicted.
Gia craned her neck to get a look at the crowd around them. She recognized several familiar faces. Evan’s science teacher was there with her husband. The rat-tailed Fitz was chitchatting with Donna Delvecchio, who was still wearing her scrubs. She spotted her dad — using his trademark expansive hand gestures — and Phoebe standing in a small knot of people toward the back.
The lights flickered and the sta
nding stragglers took their seats. Once everyone was settled, Beckett and four others took the stage. All business, he strode toward the podium in his suit and tie, hesitating only for the briefest of seconds when “Hail to the Chief” crackled over the speakers.
A smattering of applause rose up from the audience and Beckett shot a frown over his shoulder. The man behind him in the argyle sweater vest strutted unconcernedly to his seat.
Beckett shook his head and took his place behind the podium. He made a slashing motion over his neck and the music cut off abruptly. “Well that was a … surprise.”
Gia grinned at his obvious embarrassment.
“Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone. We’ve got a few agenda items to move through at the top of the hour,” Beckett announced. “On behalf of our residents and council members I’d like to remind everyone that we set aside exactly sixty minutes for these meetings.”
Beverly leaned over to Gia. “That’s a warning to Bruce,” she said, nodding toward the bearded man in the sweater vest. “He’s a bit verbose.”
“Any issues not settled in those sixty minutes will be addressed at the next town meeting,” Beckett continued. “So without further ado, let’s begin.” He reached over and slapped the button on a digital clock that began counting down from sixty minutes.
“The council would like to report the results of our public vote on the following awareness topics for November. In addition to National Diabetes Month, Blue Moon will be observing Green Friday, Clean Up After Your Dog Week, and …” he trailed off.
Beckett cleared his throat before continuing. “And November Awareness Month.”
Gia looked around as the audience applauded with enthusiasm. “November Awareness?”
A man in a blue fleece jacket shirt stood up. “I move that we observe November awareness with a month-long $5.99 hot turkey sandwich special at the diner,” he announced.
A woman wearing a fuzzy poncho rose. “Second that.”
“I appreciate your appetite for hot turkey sandwiches, Mitch … and Brenda,” Beckett said, clearing his throat. “But the town council can’t just order a business to provide a special.”