by Hazel Kelly
"No," I huffed. "You shouldn't have."
She raised her palms like white flags. "What I meant to say was, congratulations. You two have my full support."
I rolled my eyes.
"Thanks, Vicky," Ethan said, putting a hand on my waist and squeezing me against him. "Let's hope my dad is as understanding as you've been."
Chapter 50: Ethan
My dad was people watching like an obvious tourist when I joined him in the beer garden.
"What the hell is that?" he asked when I set his pint down.
"It's a pint," I said, sliding it to him across the picnic table.
"It's a pitcher."
"This is New York."
"I realize that," he said. "But a pint is standard measure of-"
"I know what a pint is. But this is New York. You don't have to drink all of it if you don't want."
He sighed. "I just don’t want to overdo it. I told the girls I'd take them to a show tonight if they didn't get heat exhaustion while they were out shopping."
"Well, depending on the show, you might decide to skull the whole thing."
"Mmm." He lifted it and took a sip.
"You don’t know what you’re seeing yet?"
He shook his head. "I left it up the girls." He furrowed his brow. "Do you want to come?"
"Depends on the show, I guess." I scooted towards the brick wall beside the table and leaned my back against it. My dad looked older than I remembered, like time was accelerating when we were apart. I wondered if he felt the same about me.
"So… that's a lot of art in your apartment."
I pursed my lips and nodded. "A few year’s worth."
"You never really stopped?"
I shook my head.
"Why did you keep it a secret?"
I turned an ear towards him. "You're joking, right?"
"Joking?"
"Oh right. You don't do jokes."
“Enlighten me.”
I sighed. "After Mom died, there was no one around who wanted to see my stuff anymore. And you grew to detest it. Like it reminded you of her or something."
He took a sip of his beer and smacked his lips. "I'm sorry, Ethan."
I flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes.
"I know it's too little too late, but I didn't exactly put your grieving before my own."
I shrugged. "You did your best."
"I shouldn't have sent you away, though," he said. "I should've stuck up for you at the school and-"
"That wasn’t your fault. Really. And it was the right call."
His lips formed a straight line.
"I'm not going to thank you for it or anything cause it sucked, but I was never going to get out of that town the way I was going."
"Well, it does seem like you've made something of yourself."
"I'm a work in progress."
"For what it's worth, I'm glad you kept up with the art… even though I'm too thick to get it."
"Apology accepted." I took a sip of my beer.
He did the same.
I wished it could be more natural with him and me.
Ben had drinks with his dad several times a month. They played tennis together and everything. But my dad and I were so forced, as if we were always trying not to reveal too much.
I didn't know if it was that my mom was the only thing we ever really had in common or if it was normal for men to have complicated relationships with their fathers. Regardless, there was a reason I didn't take him for a fucking coffee.
"Get anything good at the auction?" I asked.
"I outbid your Uncle Jim for a Zippo that belonged to some general."
"Cause you wanted it or because you can't resist a little competition."
"Both," he said. "But I'll probably give it to him for his birthday."
"That's nice."
"I'm keeping the bosun whistle I got for myself, though. I'm going to get it cleaned up and put it on display in the front room."
"Don't get it too cleaned up. Those things can lose their value if-"
"Thanks, Ethan, but I'm not an idiot," he said. "And you can stop pretending you give a shit about my collection."
"I figured it was the least I could do after you pretended to care about my art stuff."
"I do care about your art stuff," he said. "I just don't know how to show it."
"Don't feel you have to."
“I wish I could,” he said. “But caring about our family takes so much of my energy that there's not much left for me to spend getting excited about paint brushes."
"Don't worry about it."
"What else is new?" he asked. "How are things going with work?"
"Good. I like my job. It pays well. I hang out with attractive people all day who treat me like I’m their favorite person."
He nodded. "Whatever floats your boat."
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"What about Jenny?"
I pushed my sunglasses back on my head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I want to know why all three of you were thick as thieves when I showed up at your apartment."
I swallowed.
"Christ. I'm highly trained in interrogation, Ethan. You think I can't tell when someone's trying to avoid telling me something?"
"Promise you won't freak out."
"I haven't freaked out since ‘98."
I raised my eyebrows. "More like ninety eight seconds ago."
"Whatever. I won't raise my voice anyway. It's bad for my blood pressure."
"Jenny and I are dating."
"Dating who?"
"Each other."
He raised his aviators and squinted at me. "What do you mean you're dating?"
"I mean we're living together as boyfriend and girlfriend."
He turned his ear towards me. "Does she sleep in your bed?"
I let my head fall back against the bricks.
"Wow. That is news," he said, wrapping his shovel hands around his glass. "No wonder you guys were all atwitter."
"Whatever that means," I mumbled.
"And things are going well?"
"I've never been happier."
He nodded and took a sip of his beer. "How'd Vicky take it?"
"Surprisingly well."
"Mmm. She warned me this might happen."
"What?"
"Not in so many words, but Jesus. Women's intuition, eh? It's arguably more powerful than my best interrogation tactics."
I squinted at him. "What do you mean she warned you?"
"That was a poor choice of words. It would be more accurate to say she suspected there was something going between you two."
I craned my neck forward. "Go on."
"After you shipped off, Jenny was depressed for weeks."
"Depressed?"
"Just not herself, you know. No singing in the shower. No back talk. That kind of thing."
"Yeah."
“Very strange for a girl that age.”
“Uh-huh.”
"I thought she might be on drugs or something. Downers. Maybe a bit of skunk here and there. Wouldn't have surprised me for all that time she spent with what's her face with the raccoon eyes."
"Brandi."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, Vicky said Jenny wasn’t on drugs. She was just heartbroken."
I furrowed my brow. "Seriously?"
"I chocked it up to hormones and didn't try to understand. You were only kids."
I took a sip of beer.
"Was it the same for you?" he asked. "Even then?"
I nodded. "Yeah. It was. And when you guys got married everything got so confused."
"Understandable."
I scratched the back of my head.
He sighed. "I'm not one of those guys that takes young love seriously, but there must be something there if it hasn't gone away after all this time."
"We think so."
He furrowed his brow. "You love her?"
I nodded.
"Does she
know?"
"More or less."
He raised a finger at me. "Make sure she knows," he said. "I swear to god the only peace I had after your mother died was that I told her I loved her that morning."
A lump formed in my throat.
"So don't miss an opportunity to show her how much you care. Never put it off. Never skip a day. Take it from me, life is too short to assume the people you love know it."
I swallowed.
"And I'm sorry if you felt you had to put your love on hold cause of decisions I made- not that I wouldn't make the same decisions again because I love Vicky very much-"
"I know."
"Anyway, it's not for me to judge what's best when it comes to matters of the heart. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that you don't apologize for love and you don't hide it away."
"Thanks, Dad."
"And I'll stop myself there before you lose all respect for me."
I smiled.
Then he stood up and pointed at my glass. "Same again?"
Chapter 51: Jenny
Three months later…
Ethan had pulled his jeep into the alley behind the studio and was stacking the unsold prints in the back.
"I'd say that was a massive success," I said, cocking a hip. "Wouldn't you?"
"I had my doubts going in," he said, closing the trunk.
“Oh?”
"I didn't expect people to come knowing it would only be my stuff."
I raised my eyebrows. "Well come they did. They ran out of canapes and everything!"
He smiled and walked around to the passenger side to open my door. "I suspect that’s because you spent more time circling the canapes than you did selling my work."
I stopped beside the open door. "First of all, your prints sell themselves. Second of all, you should be grateful anyone noticed anything with those bacon wrapped whatsits in the room."
He rolled his eyes. "Get in, will ya?"
I climbed in and moved my legs so he could close the door. I couldn't believe he was still doing things like holding doors open for me, but I wasn't complaining.
Besides, it's not like I asked him to make such a fuss. He just did it. Like it wasn't even a chore, though I almost wished he'd just get in the car at the exact same time that I did so I wouldn't have to miss a moment talking to him.
"I can't believe that daisies print sold for six hundred bucks!" I said when he slid in the driver’s seat.
"You and me both." He turned the key in the ignition and checked his mirrors. "It's like I have some sort of lucky charm." He smiled and looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Do you think Ben meant what he said about hanging some of the skyline prints at the club?"
"I do," he said, rolling down the alley towards the main street. "And I think if Carrie okays the idea, he'll follow through with it."
"I'm sure she will," I said. "In fact, I bet if I gave Nora one for Carrie's office, she'd be putting them in her client’s homes in no time."
"That's a great idea."
"Right?!"
"I was thinking," he said, waiting for a gap in traffic to open up. "That following the success of my recent shows, it’s probably about time we celebrated my listening to you in the first place."
"What do you mean?" I asked, turning towards him.
"I mean none of this would've happened if you hadn't forced me at gunpoint to let other people see my stuff."
I rolled my eyes.
"And you put in a lot of work to get me those first few opportunities."
"Mostly the first one, but-"
"Still," he said. "All your encouragement has gone to my head."
"Good. It's about damn time."
He pulled up at the light and rubbed his fingers along the blue paint spot on his steering wheel. "In fact, I felt so good going into tonight that I bought you a little something yesterday."
I raised my eyebrows. "Can I eat it?"
"No."
"Can I wear it?"
"No."
I furrowed my brow. "Are you sure it's for me?"
"Technically it's for us both."
"What is it?"
He leaned his head back. "Check the pocket behind my seat."
I reached behind him and slipped my hand in the tight leather pocket.
"Got it yet?" he asked.
"It better not be a dirty tissue that I left in here or something because I already apologized for forgetting the fast food trash last-"
He laughed. "It's not a dirty tissue, Jenny. Christ. But if that's where you've set your expectations, I feel confident that you're going to be pleased."
I stretched my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut. "Oh wait- I feel something." I slid the thick paper until I could get a grip on it and pulled it into the front seat.
He glanced at me.
"What is it?" I asked, staring at the pamphlet.
The picture on the front was of two people drinking cocktails on a beach surrounded by nothing but pristine blue water and swaying palm trees.
Well, they weren't really swaying, but it seemed like they would've been based on how the woman's dress was blowing in the breeze. Then again, I'd never seen a real palm tree in my life. Maybe they were too heavy to sway.
"Open it."
I flipped the pamphlet open and let my eyes travel along the tropical font. "The Abbott Hotel Bermuda."
"Looks nice, right?"
"Yeaaah."
"Glad you think so."
I turned an ear towards him. "Are we going there?"
"We are, actually."
I raised my eyebrows. "Wait seriously? To this place? In Bermuda?!"
"It's going to get cold soon, and I'm dreading the thought of you wearing more clothes."
I smiled. "So you're taking me to Bermuda?!"
“That’s right. For two weeks at the beginning of next month. I already got you a window seat."
"You what?!"
He cocked his head. "Don't tell me you prefer the aisle?"
"What? No! I don't know! I can’t even remember the last time I was on a plane."
He pulled along the curb behind a taxi. "But you'll go with me, right? Cause two for one drinks only make sense when you're with-"
I scrunched my face.
"What?"
"I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?"
"I got a job."
He craned his neck forward. "What?"
"You know that audition I went to for the Lion King two weeks ago?"
"Yeah."
"They're going to let me be a hyena."
His hands went to his head. "Oh my god, Jenny, that's fantastic! Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I only found out this morning, and I thought it would make more sense to tell you after your show so-"
He lunged across the center console and threw his arms around me. "Congratulations. I’m so proud of you. Oh my god.” He leaned back in his seat. “I can't believe you're going to be a hyena. I can't wait to tell everyone!"
"Hyena number 2 to be exact."
He was smiling so hard I thought his face might tear in half. "Holy Shit. That's the best hyena!"
I rolled my eyes.
"It's about damn time your talent got recognized. Are you so pumped or what? "
I shrugged. "I don't think it's quite sunk in yet."
"You're going to be great."
"I figure worst case scenario, I mess up my lines and just laugh really hard and no one will know-"
"You're a genius!"
"And you are ridiculously supportive."
"I knew you were a fucking star." He shook his head out the windshield. "Hyena number 2. I'll be damned."
"Anyway, the rehearsals start in two weeks so I can't go to Bermuda."
"Don’t worry about it. We'll go another time."
I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah?"
"Of course. We can't fuck off in the middle of your big break.
Besides, the oceans aren't rising that fast. Bermuda will still be there after the final curtain."
"Cause it's not that I don't want to go."
He put a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to explain, Jenny. Or would you rather I start calling you Hyena #2 to help you get in character?"
"Shut up."
"We have to celebrate."
"Agreed, but nothing seems exciting after your Bermuda surprise."
He pursed his lips and turned the flashing blinkers on to buy us more curb time. "We could always go for drinks?"
"And not stop until we're so drunk we feel like we're on an island in the Caribbean?"
"It's an idea," he said.
"I was craving bottomless margaritas earlier this week."
"I can do one better."
I raised my eyebrows. "I’m listening."
"How about we go back to the apartment and drink margaritas bottomless," he said. "That's all I wanted to do in Bermuda anyway."
I smiled. "I love that idea."
"I was hoping you might."
"And I love you, too."
He smiled. "Admitting it is the first step to recovery."
I shook my head. "I don't want to recover. I've never felt better."
He flashed his eyebrows and pulled back into traffic. "Just wait till we get home."
"I can't wait," I said. "I'm too excited."
"I know the feeling," he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
And as I stared at the man behind the wheel, I was overwhelmed with an optimism that filled me so full of happiness there was no room for anything else.
Because of him.
Because being his girl was my role of a lifetime.
Note from the Author
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Ps- If you’d like to get to know Ethan’s friends better (including Woody, Nora, Ben, Christophe, and Ella), check out the Club Abbott Series.