by Stacy Lane
It feels like everything around me but my own mind is trapped is slow motion. My heart beats normal, my breathing is regular, but my head is scrambling in fast forward with a million thoughts to try and process. I’m worried I’m about to be ripped apart.
“Is Bri there too?”
“I left her inside with him and his nurse. She doesn’t know yet.”
“Probably for the best, darlin’.”
Hearing Luke say “darlin’” the same way my dad always has, snaps one of those strings holding me together. A sob tries to break free, but instead I stop it and wind up choking on air.
Clutching my phone tighter to my ear as I gasp for breath, I use my other hand to rip at my throat like that will somehow help me take in more air.
“Liv, talk to me.” His worry breaches my fear.
“I can’t breath. I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“Shh, baby. You’re fine. Listen to my voice okay? Listen to my breaths and copy me.”
His soothing words barely register, but when I hear the exaggerated inhale and exhale of his breaths directly in my ear, I do exactly as Luke instructed.
When I’m calmer I quit focusing on my own breathing and listen to his instead. I’m not able to gauge how long I’ve been standing here, but the sun is more powerful than my fear. I relinquish myself to its energy and ameliorate in the sweat coating under my shirt at my back.
The sound of diesel engine rumbles up the street, growing louder with each passing second. The thing about small towns, you can get from one side to the other within minutes.
His big truck comes in to view and I take a step forward.
The tires kick up dirt in the driveway. Before the dust settles to the ground, Luke’s jumping out and walking toward me. I meet him halfway, wrapping my arms around him then burying my face into his solid chest.
Luke whispers sweet words in my ear, pulling forth my misery enough that one lone tear escapes. The salty droplet falls down with all of my barriers.
I spent so many years hating how I could still love and care for the kind of man my father had been. He was physically there most of the time, yet never there for me. We didn’t have a relationship. He didn’t deserve the devotion I gave to him then.
As a single parent I’ve dealt with hardships too. And not one of those instances could I ever neglect Brielle the way he had done me. I tried to compare and digest his pain from Mom leaving us and find whether it was understandable or not. Simply put, no.
Those thoughts are what kept me from reconciling with him. Then in one visit back I saw what my grudge took away from me.
Time. And who knew how much time I had left now.
He was sober, and he was my dad. The dad I desperately wanted him to be. Seeing this new him, a version so vastly different I felt as if we were meeting for the first time, I let hope plant a seed. Of course, it was buried way, way down there and would take a lot of nurturing before it grew, but it was still there.
“I’m so sorry, Liv.”
Oh, God. Brielle. How can I tell her this and not break her heart? If she hurts, I hurt, too.
“I don’t even know all of the details. He told me and then I immediately had to get out of there.”
“He keeps me updated, but I usually have to push. When he’s being stubborn and won’t talk to anyone, Janice updates me or Della.”
“So everyone can know but his own daughter?” I shake my head, agitated by their logic. My hands grip his shirt, but I lift my head to glare at him. “You knew and didn’t tell me, Luke.”
His fingers stroke up and down my back. It’s calming and sensual and just having him touch me in an affable way stirs a flutter in my belly.
“He asked us not to before you came back. I think he always held out hope he would see you again.”
When his hand strokes downward it sparks a match. Not a flame of desire, but anger.
I break our hold, crossing my arms over my front and stare hard.
“It’s been months since I came back.” I look directly in to his dark, beautiful eyes. “I get if he wanted to tell me this himself, but you and Della left me feeling completely ignorant. All those comments about how he’s a changed man and I should give him another chance. Where was the courtesy in telling me my father is dying and I may not have much longer to give him that chance?”
I choked up on the latter end of the question.
My voice got louder as I carried on. By the end I was nearly yelling at Luke.
Numerous times I’ve given Brielle a pep talk when her feelings are hurt by someone, and it makes her cry. Tears are an action that connects every human being. Whether in sadness, anger, or joy, we all shed tears at some point. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.
My words of wisdom were feeling like a load of bullshit.
“Okay, you’re right.” Luke tries to cup my face, but I pull away. “We should have said something by now. But Walt wanted time with you girls, with his sobriety, and without his cancer.”
“Did he think I would only stay out of pity?”
“He was afraid you wouldn’t come back at all.”
I never left him in the dark times. He pushed me out. Why would he believe I would run from this?
“I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to say something sooner.”
I flicked my eyes back and forth between his. So intense and gorgeous. I have never wanted to kiss someone as badly as I did right then.
If I ever doubted fate, I believe Luke would have been placed in front of me at any point in time to defy my reasoning.
My gaze drops to his lips, full and perfectly rounded with a sharp angled cupids bow. The dip on his top lip looked like a great place to explore with my tongue. A starting point. I wanted them pressed to mine, feeling their softness and then begging until it was rough. But I didn’t just want them on my mouth. I wanted them on me, all of me. Doing unfathomable things that my unpracticed self hasn’t had in a very, very long time.
Passion.
“Stop looking at me like that, Liv,” Luke warns, even though there is an eagerness underlying his voice.
“I can’t help it,” I breath.
He groans, swiping his thumb along my bottom lip.
“You were just yelling at me. And now you look like you want to…Christ.” Luke cuts himself off with a swear.
Saying the words aloud gives meaning and hope to what has been stirring heavily between.
The connection we had as teenagers can’t begin to compare to what we have now as grown-ups. All the fighting I have been doing to ward off these feelings for Luke has been pointless. It was going to happen no matter how many obstacles I put between us.
“Liv, your dad isn’t the only one afraid of something happening that will keep you from returning again.” His fingers brush underneath my chin to lift my gaze. “Just remember I’m here for you. Talk to me or stay silent and lost in your own thoughts, but I am here. And if you think of bailing again, I won’t let you. At least not without me right on your heels.”
The truth bleeds from his heart, and gives me proof I didn’t believe I needed. Luke really cares. And I crave it.
My heavy eyes fall back to his lips. The moment didn’t pass just because he decided to change the topic.
“Quit that.”
“You’re going to have to kiss me at some point, Luke,” I tease.
His mouth lowers. My eyes flutter closed.
Then I feel his breath close to my ear. Luke’s lips kiss the delicate spot between my jaw and the bottom of my ear.
“Let’s go inside.”
I exhaust a heavy sigh. “You don’t have to come in with me. I know you must have been at work or something.”
“Olivia. You need me, I come. No matter what.”
Reluctantly breaking our connection, I look back at the house and make my way up the drive.
Prepare for worst. Hope for the best.
I stop outside the front door, and turn to face Luke.
�
��I know there’s a lot going on this weekend, but we should talk before I head back home on Sunday.“
“We’re practically going to be stuck together all weekend. Plenty of time to talk.”
“About us,” I clarify. “About things we said the other night. The night you hung up on me.”
He squints his eyes. “I was waiting for that to get brought up.”
“Fair warning. Hang up on me again, and you’ll never get that kiss.”
He smiles and it brightens everything around me. The sun can go ahead and set, I don’t need it if he’s around.
Chapter Twelve
“I’ve never had a ladies night.”
Della stares at me in part shock, and part pity.
After getting a manicure and pedicure with Della and her mom, Cathy, we had a late lunch where I avoided the topic of my dad’s cancer.
Della politely accepted I did not want to speak about it in front of Brielle. Other than talking about his illness with Luke, I did not want to discuss it with anyone, honestly. My emotions were all over the road, and I didn’t need others witnessing how susceptible I am to vulnerableness.
Just before we left the restaurant Cathy asked if there were any plans for a bachelorette party tonight. Which in turn made me feel like the worst maid of honor of all time, because there were none.
Not that I didn’t try previously. Della claimed she was good with a night in, and I pushed for more, but she made it seem like having a bachelorette party wasn’t necessary to her. Then Cathy brought it up, not to mention Luke told me earlier the guys were taking Paul out tonight, so I insisted Della call up some of her other friends.
Having a sitter for Brielle and going out with the girls was so far beyond my boring routine I’m not even sure how to create a fun and wild night. But it’s Della’s last night of singledom, and where I lack, I’m hoping her other girlfriends will assist.
Cathy offered to keep Brielle and Ethan overnight. That had me slightly nervous since the only other time she attempted a sleepover I had to go pick her up in the middle of the night. And this will be the first time I’ve ever had a whole night without her. But she would be in capable hands with Cathy. That woman practically raised me as her own.
With the kids dropped off, and the men at Luke’s house, Della and I had her mansion to ourselves. We weren’t leaving for another couple of hours, and the only place to go out for a good time in Calusa was to go out of Calusa.
We might as well have been living in a Footloose kind of town. When we were younger all of us kids snuck off to the fields to party. There was one bar, and the only kind of music they knew how to play came out of the fifty year old juke box, or Mrs. Mertle who had one country top charts single in the early nineties and played at the bar every weekend.
“I really wish you lived closer,” Della mumbles. “A mom needs her night out with the girls every once in awhile.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But tonight is not for us mommies.” I place my hands on her shoulders and squeeze. “It’s all about you, Bride-to-be.” Her face lights up. I turn around and reach into the bag behind me. “Okay! I have some crafting to do, so you get in the shower and I’ll work on my secret project.”
Della’s tries to peek over my shoulder, but I push her away.
After dropping the kids off at Cathy’s I ran to Walmart, the only store within miles that had any sort of bridal-ish items. With Paul spending the night at Luke’s tonight, the “not seeing the bride before the wedding” was about the only traditional detail they were doing.
“Hey,” Della calls out halfway up the stairs, pausing to lean over the banister. “What are you wearing tonight?”
I shrug and look down at the outfit I’m wearing now. “I’ll change my shirt, but probably these jeans. I didn’t bring any going out clothes on the count of I don’t have any.”
Della scrunches her face. “We’ll look through my closet. Bachelorette or moms night out, the point is to not look like a mom.”
Everyone wears jeans around here. Not just moms. And this is the south. We were practically born in denim.
Just thinking about wearing anything from Della’s wardrobe has me praying to the party gods we start drinking beforehand. I’ve seen her workout clothes that she wears for everything but working out.
I pull out the plastic tiara I found in the kids toys section and set it aside. The Walmart in town actually had a decent crafting section. I bought a cheap hot glue gun, and a strip of white tulle fabric that I planned on attaching to the tiara to look like a veil. There was an aisle for wedding decor where I found a Bride-to-be sash, but the tiaras were too basic and not flashy enough for a Della-kind-of-bachelorette.
The fabric was precut and took no time at all to glue it onto the tiara. It was cheap looking and had me disappointed I hadn’t prepared better, but overall it would do for one night of fun.
I cleaned up, picking out all those pesky strings of glue that drapes everywhere when using a hot glue gun, and set her sash and tiara aside.
Della called up a couple friends from work, and one other girl in town we went to high school with. We were going to pick up Chloe on the way, and since Port Charlotte is the closest town with any acceptable night life, the other two girls were meeting us there.
Heading up the stairs to Della’s room, my mind wondered back to Luke. After we left my dad’s house he went back to work. I wanted to talk to him badly. About a lot of things. I’ll see him at the wedding tomorrow, but there will be too many eyes and ears around. Who knows when we’ll get alone time again. My body was pumping with adrenaline and excitement for tonight’s adventures, but also because of our near kiss today. Again. I’m all for a good slow burn but I’m not a saint. I’m feeling antsy and on a crazy sex high and we haven’t even had sex!
I make myself at home in Della’s master bedroom like were teenagers again. She comes out in a towel with wet hair and flawless skin while I browse her closet and the vast array of clothes. It’s not just the clothing that has my jaw on the floor, though. She actually has an entire wall in her closest for just shoes. Not hers and Paul’s, just hers alone.
“I have a couple dresses that are too short on me and would probably hit at the right length on you.”
Della is a good four inches taller than me. I’m fine wearing the same skinny jeans I have on now, and picking a blouse from her collection.
“Are you wearing a dress?” I pick up one of her heels to check and make sure we’re still the same shoe size. It’s doubtful most of her clothes will fit me properly with the height difference, and let’s face it, our body shape is not like the old days before we had kids.
“It just so happens that I have a sexy little white dress.” Della drops her towel with no shame, and shimmies over to a medium height drawer to pick out her underwear.
“So you’ll wear white for the bachelorette party but not your wedding day.” I laugh at her.
“Shut up. Go get a shower. I’ll find something for you to wear.”
“Just a shirt. I’m wearing my jeans. And probably a pair of your shoes, too,” I call over my shoulder as I leave her behind in a closet the size of my own bedroom.
I take a quick shower in the guest bathroom. Thankfully, I washed my hair last night and styled it this morning so no need to do it all again. Della’s cousin will be here in the morning to curl it all into an up-do and weigh me down with entire cans of hairspray for the the wedding day.
I cross the hall to her room afterward, wrapped in my robe. The droning sound of a hair dryer reaches my ears when I step over the threshold.
Della sits at the vanity in her bathroom in only a bra and panties.
I see right away how pointless it was to bring my small makeup bag with me. Her vanity is set up with a giant, multi-drawer cosmetic station.
Once she done with her hair, Della beams at me through the mirror in front of her.
“I found the perfect skirt for you!”
“That’s nice. I’m goi
ng to wear jeans, though.”
“Oh no no no.” She emphatically shakes her head, and stands. I follow behind as she walks out of the bathroom and into her massive closet. “This is a monumental night for you too. It’s a night where you get to be all woman. Let loose to drink and dance and maybe get laid.”
My response is to laugh uncontrollably at that unlikeliness.
Della crosses her arms, pushing her boobs up even higher. “I refuse to let you walk out that door in anything other than something that makes for easy access to you know what.”
“What exactly are you planning for us to do tonight?” I ask, eyes popping wide open. “And why the hell would I need easy access?”
Della winks at me.
“Dells, I’m open to drink and dance. But my who-ha will not be open for anything.”
“Not even a certain brown-eyed friend we have in common?”
I purse my lips.
“I know he went to you when you called from your dad’s house today.”
“You talked to Luke already?” I don’t know why that bothers me, but it did. Luke is the only person I feel comfortable with talking to about my dad, and I’m a little hurt that he would immediately discuss my business with someone else right after we parted ways.
“No, Paul saw him leave.”
“Oh.”
“You two are confusing. Haven’t talked in months for some reason, and then he’s dropping everything and running to your aid.”
“Don’t make me sound like a damsel, please.”
“Well, Luke has a hero complex. So you better get used to it.” She shrugs, then reaches for two items hanging on the rack behind her. When Della turns around to me she’s holding a long sleeve, black studded shirt up against a short black leather skirt. “I bought the skirt awhile back online and meant to return it. When I tried it on it was way too short.”
“Something was too short for you?” I smirk.
“You could see my crotch. Paul wasn’t impressed.” She matches my grin. “Anyway, guess I forgot about it, because I found it while looking through my other skirts. It is going to be perfect on you. Try it on.”