The Promise Between Us

by White, Barbara Claypole

  “Were you in love with my sister?”

  “Now what’s the point of that question? Things start, things end, and often things work out the way they should.” He draped the tea towel over the oven handle. “She deserved better, that’s the truth.”

  He deserves better. “So does Ben.”

  Katie pulled out her phone and checked. No new texts.

  Jake shook his head. “Lordy, the two of you are lame. What’s goin’ on with you and the boyfriend?”

  “He’s not—”

  “Don’t be dense.”

  She put her phone down on the table. “I messed up. And now he has a girlfriend. And he won’t answer my texts. And I want him back in my life.”

  “As a friend or something more?”

  “I don’t know, but I miss him so much it hurts, right here.” She tried to slap her chest but missed and hit her shoulder. “I’m a lousy friend as well as a lousy mother.”

  “Wanna know what I think?”

  Katie wobbled toward the bathroom door. “Hold that thought, ’cause I gotta pee.”

  When she came back, she half fell into her chair. And then she took another shot. Tequila after dinner made no sense, but that ache in her heart had crept back in.

  “The only times I’ve seen you since your wedding have been as a mama,” Jake said. “And you’re good at it. You got Maisie to the hospital when I couldn’t, and remember her christening? How she fussed?”

  “Cried all the time.” Katie pulled the bottle toward her and did another shot.

  “Except when she was with you.”

  “Or you. I have a memory of her sleeping on your chest.” Katie stared out through the kitchen window into the night. White lights had switched on in the magnolia tree. Magical. “Cal couldn’t handle the crying. I kept telling him there was no right or wrong way, but every time he picked her up, he tensed, and she cried.”

  “You had this calm patience with her. I think that made it worse. Callum would watch you and think he was a failure.”

  “He never told me that.” The room started to sway, but the pain of missing Ben, of missing Maisie, it all vanished. Poof! Definitely magic.

  “Let’s be honest, Katie. There’s a lot you guys didn’t tell each other.”

  “Maybe if we’d communicated better, things would have been different. He retreated, and I became new mommy on steroids. The irony is that I felt as much a failure as Cal did.” Katie paused. “Is he going to be okay second time around—as a new dad?”

  “Damn right.”

  “You ever wonder what if? What if I hadn’t left? What if you’d stayed in LA?”

  “Darlin’, that idea ain’t worth a crap. You take out the bad chapters of your life, and who knows what you’d have left? If my parents hadn’t died when I was a kid, I’d probably still be in Podunk Nowhere, working at the seed and feed. I didn’t want to move to Chapel Hill, but that put me square in Callum’s path. Thanks to him and Ms. Jill, our middle school English teacher, I started chasing my dream. D’you have any idea how shitty it was being a moody kid in rural Carolina who fantasized about acting? And if I hadn’t come back from LA, I might never have started working with kids. I love my job a whole lot. Would you have become a metal artist if you’d stayed put?”

  “No, but I’d still have my family. And Maisie—”

  “Will always be your daughter. You can’t change biology. And I gotta say, I like this new, improved version of you. She’s got a whole lot of potential.” He refilled their glasses. “And now, we’re going to dance. If I can find my iPod.”

  She downed another shot as Jake got up and fiddled with something on the dresser. Oh, yeah, blind drunk. This was da bomb.

  “I suggest we start with . . . Got it!” Jake said. Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” came on.

  “Bruce!” She giggled.

  Jake pulled her up, and they danced around his kitchen table. One song led to another and another. Man, this was the way to do it! And she loved Uncle J, her new BFF! And the buzz and the music—all from that tiny speaker—and . . . Whoa. The room started to spin counterclockwise as someone banged on the front door.

  Jake yelled, “Come in!”

  Katie twirled into a chair, and there was Ben. Looking totally hot and totally pissed off.

  “Bennie!” She lurched at him. “You look nice! Why’re you here?”

  “You texted me, remember?”

  “Did not.”

  Ben glanced at Jake. “You’re not in trouble?”

  “No, silly.” She giggled. “I’m drunk. Blind, stinking druuunk.”

  “I hope you’re not planning on driving.”

  “Course not.” She tried to grab her car keys off the table, missed, and they fell to the floor. “I might be shit-faced, but I’m hyper res-res—”

  “Responsible?” Jake lowered the music.

  She pointed at Jake. “What he said. And it’s okay ’cause I’m gonna have a sleepover with Uncle J. We’re friends now. Best friends.” She staggered toward Ben, which would be sooo much easier if he stopped moving.

  “You are?” Ben scowled.

  Angry Ben was va-va-voom. “We used to be best friends, but you don’t like me anymore. And you have a girlfriend, and—wait. How’d you know where I was?” The words were hard to push out of her mouth. Heavy—she giggled again—heavy words.

  “You texted me your address and said you needed help.”

  Katie hiccuped. “Did not, silly.”

  Now Ben was spinning, and she was . . . she was . . . “I’m going to be sick.”

  FORTY

  JAKE

  “Confession time.” Jake tried not to listen to Katie barf in the next room. “Katie didn’t send the text, I did. I don’t deal with drunk women.” The lie was smooth, as smooth as Katie’s tequila. Shit, he was hammered. The guy with the serious biceps and huge gray eyes seemed to sway all over the place. “You scrub up nicely. Fingernails are still black, though.”

  “Hazard of the art. I was having dinner with a friend when you texted.”

  “Aha. The lady friend who isn’t our Katie.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jake nodded at the bathroom door. “I wasn’t lying, man. She needs you.”

  “Great. You get her drunk, and I get to clean up. This isn’t something you can handle?”

  “Nope.”

  Ben screwed the top on the tequila bottle. “What’s your game, Jake?”

  Jake tried to keep Ben in focus. “You change your hair? ’S cool. Suits you. Ya know, I get why she likes you.”

  Jake went to the sink, filled a glass with water, and downed it. On the other side of the closed bathroom door, the toilet flushed.

  “What do you mean—she likes me?”

  “You know the sexiest quality in a man?” Playing fairy godmother to these two was almost too easy. “Come on, not a tough question. Think about all those leading men who brood. You do the brooding thing, I’ve seen it.”

  Ben frowned. “The only thing I’m doing right now is wondering why someone tricked me into dumping my date.”

  “Aha! You were on a date.”

  “Get to the point, Jake.”

  Jake rolled his eyes. “Loyalty, man. You’ve got it in spades.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Take her home, look after her.” Jake hiccuped. “Trust me. It’ll work out in your favor. She doesn’t want to wake up here to a massive hangover and m’ handsome face. But I think she might want to wake up to you.”

  “And why would that be?”

  Jake slapped his forehead. “How come you two don’t get it? Any jackass can see you’ve got a thing for each other.” Did people really make dating this hard? “You’re the one person who’s stood by her. Well, apart from her sister. That’s a killer aphrodisiac, knowing someone wants to be with you even after you mess up big time.”

  “And how would you know?”

  “Projecting, man.” Jake
took a deep breath. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, you know, what happened in the past. Good people often make bad decisions for the right reasons.”

  Ben nodded. Clearly he thought they were still discussing Katie. Jake let that one slide, because he wasn’t going to have a conversation about the deal they’d all made. The one he’d suggested and then broke when he used the last of the hemorrhoid commercial money to pay Katie’s hospital bill. Delaney had applied for charity case status, but that was a long, slow process. One day Delaney called the house to demand Callum take care of it. Only Callum wasn’t the one to answer the phone, and Jake used that call to get to Delaney. She was desperate for information about Maisie. He was desperate for Delaney. They arranged to meet in a hotel halfway between Asheville and Raleigh so he could give her a handful of Maisie’s scribbles. No one knew those scribbles cost him $6,000, not even Callum, who was too out of it back then to take care of anything. But it worked out pretty darn well since Delaney and Katie thought Callum had been extremely benevolent. It was good to have a few secrets. Like how he managed to tell Maisie all that good shit about her mama. Although that one was pretty easy. He had been describing Delaney, not her sister.

  “You know,” Jake said. “Katie’s got a helluva lot of spunk. She’s one fine mama, and I think it’s time she got herself a good man. You.”

  Ben glanced at the bathroom door. “I have feelings for her. Strong feelings.”

  Gotta love guy-speak. “Seriously? You don’t think I figured out you’re in love with her?”

  “It’s getting too hard, waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

  Yup. Couldn’t argue with that one.

  “I’m trying to cut the cord,” Ben said.

  Been there, failed at that. Mind you, he and Delaney had managed to be alone and not end up in bed. Progress was a fine thing. “And yet you ditched date night to deal with Ms. Vomiting.”

  Ben smiled. “I didn’t say it was going well, my plan. In all fairness, I wouldn’t have come if I’d known she was hugging a toilet.”

  “Yeah, you would have.” Because it’s exactly what he would do if Delaney sent him a text that said I need you followed by the address. Wouldn’t even think twice. “She’s had a lot to deal with. Give her time.”

  “I have. I’m trying to move on, you know?”

  “And yet here we all are.” Jake held up his hands. “Go. Deal with her. Be the guy she needs. Be warned, though. Treat her bad, and I’ll beat the crap out of you.” He went back to the sink and filled his glass with more water. “And drunk or sober? I fight dirty.”

  FORTY-ONE

  KATIE

  Katie opened her eyes to bright light. Sunlight. Where was she? Home, she was home. In her apartment, in her bed. Oh, thank God. How did she get here? She was at Jake’s, and then she was throwing up and . . . The Durham Freeway was quieter than usual. Weekend quiet, which meant outside it was Saturday morning. Inside, it was . . . ? Swallowing through what could have been a throatful of thumbtacks and gasoline, she turned over and nearly collided with Ben. Fully clothed, sound-asleep Ben, lying on his side. Why, why had she drunk so much?

  Because he hates me; because I’ve lost him. Maybe that wasn’t an OCD thought. Does he hate me? What if I hate him? No, no, I don’t hate him, how could I? But what if I don’t care about him? What if I want to ruin his life? Because that’s what I do—ruin the lives of people I love and then blame OCD—isn’t it?

  She pulled the blanket up to her chin and was about to sink into her bedding, never to resurface, when Ben opened those huge gray eyes.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Humiliated, embarrassed, hungover, and incredibly sorry.” Her voice was scratchy and thin. “You hate me, don’t you? I’m sorry, so sorry.”

  He sat up and reached for a glass of water on the far nightstand. “Drink this. Do you need more aspirin? I made you take two around midnight.”

  She shook her head and pulled herself up on one elbow, drained the glass, and flopped back down. Then she covered her eyes with her forearm.

  What if I don’t care about him? What if I’m messing with him? I have the same thoughts as people who hurt children, right? Did Cal and Jake’s swim coach have the same doubt as me? No, please no. Can’t have that in my head. Really can’t have that in my head. I am not this person. These thoughts are not me. Yes, yes they are.

  “Do you remember throwing up in my truck?” he said.

  “Sorry. Sorry. I’m not doing so well.”

  Her bed vibrated as he turned his back on her and swung his legs to the floor. “I’ll make coffee while you shower. Then we should talk.”

  What if I’m an alcoholic like Mom? No, I’m not. I hardly drink. What if I’m about to change that? What if alcohol’s my new coping mechanism? What if, what if?

  She sat up quickly, too quickly, swallowed a surge of nausea, and glanced down. “Wait, you undressed me?” What panties was she wearing? Not the faded granny ones. Please.

  “I removed your shoes and jeans. Closed my eyes at the first glimpse of black lace.” There was an edge to his voice she hadn’t heard before. “Shower and then we’ll talk.”

  Leaning over, she grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what, Katie?” Still, he didn’t turn.

  “Do that. Talk to me as if I’m an errant child and then walk away.”

  He hates me, and why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t enough to push him to another woman, I had to vomit in his truck? He doesn’t love me, he could never love me. He hates me. Ben hates me. And I hate him. I don’t love him, I don’t love anyone. I’m thoughtless and selfish and—

  A thought. A single thought, so loud, so clear: I could kill him.

  She gasped.

  “You ruined my date and threw up in my truck. How should I sound?”

  “I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t deliberately ruin your date. At least I don’t think I did. And I’ll clean up the truck.”

  “Yeah, you will. I left it for you.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “A text.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to text you.”

  “You didn’t. Jake did.”

  Ben’s only here because of Jake, because Jake asked for help, because no one wants to deal with me, because I’m unstable.

  “Evidently he decided to play Cupid.”

  Cupid? His phone announced a message. Ben typed a reply and then glanced over his shoulder. His smile hit like a slap. “Luckily for you, she’s cool with it.”

  “I guess you have feelings for her then”—Katie picked at a piece of peeling skin until blood oozed out—“the pretty blonde.”

  “How about you shower and—”

  “Before I clean up my vomit?”

  “I have a delivery of sheet metal coming at noon. If you want me to drive you back into Hillsborough to pick up your truck, we need to get moving. Take two showers if you want. Or don’t. Do whatever you want, Katie.” And with that, he left her bedroom.

  After a long, hot shower, Katie towel dried her hair and stood, naked, in front of the full-length mirror. She wiped away the condensation and stared at her reflection. Her face was gray, her eyes red, and she’d lost too much weight. Her hands, where she’d gnawed and pulled at her skin, were a mess. She poked at her ribs. When had she done this to herself—stopped making smart decisions, stopped caring, stopped fighting for what she wanted? She reached up and twisted her hair. Where was the woman who had left Asheville with such purpose? The voice buzzed, louder and louder. Told her she deserved to lose Ben, told her she didn’t care about him, told her she would hurt him. Wreck his life the way she’d almost wrecked Delaney’s and Maisie’s, break him the way she’d broken her family. The way she broke everything.

  No, hope whispered. I need him.

  I’m spiraling, I’m giving these thoughts power. Power they don’t deserve.

  “And you, OCD,” Katie spoke to her reflection, “can’t have hi
m, too.”

  Ben knocked on the door, and she jumped. “I made coffee.”

  Turning away from her reflection, she grabbed a towel, secured it around her torso, and opened the door.

  “Ben?” Panic rose. “Where are you?”

  Don’t leave me; I need you.

  “I’m in the living room.”

  What if I don’t need him, what if he hates me, what if . . . I love him?

  He was sitting at the breakfast bar. “Feeling any better?” he said, without looking up.

  “Yes, no. I’m sorry.”

  What if I don’t love him but tell him I do? I could run away from him. I could break his heart. I could leave him. Leaving’s what I do best.

  Facts, Katie. What’s real?

  Ben. Sitting in her apartment, holding her favorite mug.

  The man I love.

  Grabbing his stool with both hands, she swiveled him around to face her. He jerked back as if she’d stuck him with a cattle prod, but he was pinned between her and the breakfast bar. “You didn’t tell me how you feel about the blonde.”

  “I am not discussing my love life with you. Certainly not this morning.”

  She moved closer until her torso was touching his knees. “You wanted to talk after my shower? I’m here, let’s talk.” She put her hands on his thighs; his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “I’m done, Katie. I’m moving out of the studio.”

  “What?” She pulled back. “Why?”

  “I’m tired of people borrowing my equipment and breaking it.” He sat up. “And I’m tired of being the safety monitor. And I want my own space.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Just did, in case you weren’t paying attention.” He never talked to her this way.

  I should let him go. What if I don’t love him? What if I make him fall in love with me, then run away again? See Katie run.

  “I want out, Katie. From all of it.”

  No. Don’t leave me. “Including me?” Katie swallowed more nausea.

  “When I set my sights on something, it’s all or nothing. I thought that if I was there for you, it was enough. That one day you might think of me differently. And my theory was working until your life imploded and you gave me nowhere to go except the nearest exit.”