Martinis & Moonlight (A Country Road Novel - Book 3)

by Andrea Johnston

  All of that aside, it’s pissing me right the fuck off that she won’t answer my text messages or calls. Yes, calls. I called her last night. I hoped she would tell me I was wrong. That we can keep things casual and be friends. My call went straight to voicemail.

  Unfortunately for my crew, my frustrations are their problem today. If we weren’t a man down I’d be in the office right now demanding Minnie tell me we’re okay. Only we are shorthanded and I have to be on site. And, the Twins play tonight so I won’t be able to stop by her house. My dad called me this morning to make sure I was still coming over. My dad has called me twice in the last few years, this being the second time, so I knew my answer was going to have to be yes.

  Instead of dwelling on something I can’t address, I push aside my irritations and questions. Swinging the hammer a little harder than necessary, taking the brunt of the work, and ignoring the pangs of hunger from working through lunch, I allow the intensity of Rage Against the Machine to pound through my earbuds.

  Hours after my workday has ended, I’m sitting on my dad’s recliner. Yep, I’m on the recliner watching the game because my dad is sitting on the couch with Barb. Holding her hand. This is all kinds of weird for me. I’ve barely processed everything my dad told me the other night about my mom but now, to see him affectionate toward another woman, it’s just weird.

  “Owen, sweetie, I’m getting us a piece of pie. Would you like one?” Barbara has been nothing short of kind and motherly toward me. About fifty years old, she’s a pretty lady and seems to really like my dad. Who, by the way, has pulled out the fancy T-shirt tonight; it’s black.

  “Sure, but let me do that for you. You don’t have to serve me.”

  “Nonsense. You boys stay and watch the game, I’ll just be a minute.”

  I want to argue, but I can tell Barbara is just the caregiver type and caring for others is natural for her. I sit back in the seat and focus on the game. Or, pretend to focus on the game. This has been a weird week.

  “So, what do you think?” I’m pulled from my pretend focus on the game by my dad’s voice.

  “Huh?”

  Looking toward the kitchen where Barbara is plating slices of pie, my dad looks back at me. “Barb, what do you think?”

  “She seems nice.”

  “She is nice. Is it weird for you?”

  I laugh and sit back in the chair, leaning my head against the headrest. Is it weird for me? Obviously. In the last few days my dad has gone from the absentee father who grunts instead of speaks to a man who is dating, using the phone to call people, and sitting on the couch instead of the recliner. Yeah, I’d say it’s weird.

  “I’m not sure. It’s been a lot to take in. She’s nice and honestly, I like seeing you happy. I wasn’t even aware you actually had teeth. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you smile.”

  My dad flips me off and we’re both laughing when Barb returns to the living room with a tray of plates and what looks like a pot of coffee.

  “I brought some coffee, too. Decaf, it’s getting a little late.”

  “Thank you, Barbara.”

  Silence fills the room as we each take a cup of coffee and slice of pie. The coffee cup itself is extremely hot so I set that down on the table and take my first bite of the cherry pie. I let out a little moan. Pie is my weakness.

  “This is delicious,” I mumble out between bites. The pride on my father’s face as he looks at Barb hits me in the gut. He really is happy, and if that sappy look is anything to go by, in love.

  “So, Owen,” Barb begins while setting her plate on the coffee table and taking a sip of her coffee. I turn my gaze to her as my fork enters my mouth.

  “Your father tells me you’re quite the bachelor. No lady in your life?” I cough a little in response. “Sorry, is that too personal? I just, well, you’re a handsome young man and I’d assume you’re quite the catch around town.”

  Barb lives here. She’s only about twenty years older than me, I’m sure she’s heard the rumors of me slutting around town. It’s something I prided myself on until a few months ago. That’s when it dawns on me. I haven’t been slutting it up. I haven’t been going out and I haven’t been hooking up with random women. I’ve been spending my time with Minnie. Well, kind of. Aside from the day I took her to Ranks, we haven’t really gone out.

  Wow. That’s kind of dickish of me. And, I haven’t really told anyone we’ve been hanging out. The night at Doris’s Tavern flashes through my mind. The look on Minnie’s face when she told me how I hurt her feelings.

  “Barb, leave the boy alone. He’s a young red-blooded man, he should be playing the field. Dating. He’s…”

  “Actually, I have kind of been seeing someone.” My voice cracks with my uncertainty. As if I’m questioning my own statement. My dad shoots a look of confusion toward me and Barb smiles.

  “You don’t sound very convinced, Owen.”

  “It just sort of occurred to me.” Shit. I’m an asshole. “No wonder she hasn’t been answering my calls.”

  Dad and Barb both start laughing. I fail to see the humor in this and pull my phone from my pocket. Tapping on Minnie’s contact information, I skim the last few texts I’ve sent over the last few days. All remain unanswered. I tap out a quick text, hoping this one receives a response.

  Me: Hey are you up?

  Those damn three dots dance across the screen. Then stop. And, start again. Tapping my foot impatiently, I grab the coffee cup and take a drink while I watch the screen darken due to lack of activity. Then, a chirp. A fucking chirp.

  Minnie: No.

  She responded. I smile. My dad laughs. Barb smacks him. I look over and both are staring at me with huge grins on their faces.

  Me: Seems like you are if you’re finally answering a text.

  Minnie: I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Owen.

  Me: Wait. Can I come by?

  Minnie: I don’t think that’s a good idea. Goodnight.

  Me: What about tomorrow?

  And no response. Again.

  For the next two nights, I text Minnie asking if I can come over. Something occurred to me while I spent the evening with my dad and Barb. I’ve been seeing Minnie beyond my long-term six weeks. She’s become one of my closest friends and we have fun together. She makes me laugh just by being herself. She has amazing taste in movies—eighties movies for the epic win. And, don’t get me started on the sex. That girl is a wildcat in the sack and although I daydream about her often, the reality far surpasses even my imagination.

  I just feel like when I went to her house upset something shifted. Something changed and for once we weren’t just fucking, it was different. Only, now she won’t talk to me. I thought about going by the office and talking to her but I figured that would only piss her off. Minnie is a professional and I don’t think talking to her about our sex life in the middle of the office is her idea of professionalism.

  So, instead here I sit on a Thursday night, in front of her house, watching her walk past the front window carrying the baby. After about thirty minutes I realize I need to either ring the bell and talk to her or be prepared for one of the neighbors to call the cops. Taking a deep breath, I open the driver’s door and exit the Jeep. I can still change my mind. I can get back in the car, head home, and let this all settle. We can go back to being just two people who hang out with our mutual friends on occasion. There doesn’t need to be a conversation. No harm, no foul.

  Only, instead of doing just that, I find myself pushing the doorbell and holding my breath when I hear the door unlock. When the door opens, I take in the beautiful blonde in front of me. Except, it isn’t Minnie. Sure, the squirt is standing next to the woman and the baby is in her arms, but it’s not Minnesota.

  It’s Dakota.

  “Owen, this is a surprise.”

  “Hey, you’re auntie’s friend.”

  I look down at the little girl talking and smile, a small forced smile that may look a little serial killer-ish by the look on her
face and the laugh Dakota cackles.

  “Hi, uh. Dakota. You’re home.”

  “I am. Would you like to come in? I need to put the girls to bed and I think we need to have a conversation.”

  “Uh, sure.” I sound like a moron.

  “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back. Come on, Ari, let’s get in bed.”

  I take a seat on the couch and wait for Dakota to return. Dakota is home. Wait, I didn’t see Minnie’s car. Minnie isn’t here. The realization hits me just as Dakota returns to the room and thrusts a water bottle in my face.

  “Sorry, I don’t have any beer or anything. Rehab and all,” she says, taking the seat across from me on the chair, pulling her feet up to tuck them underneath her.

  “This is great, thanks.” Awkwardness is everywhere in this room so I do what seems natural, open the water and finish it in one drink. I didn’t even know I was thirsty.

  “So, what brings you by? It’s a little early for you, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s a little early. Aren’t you normally stopping by to see my sister in the wee hours of the night?”

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Dakota. Where’s Minnie?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure you know what I’m saying, Owen. My sister. The woman that you seem to enjoy spending time with in secret. Ya know, before you sneak out like a thief in the night? She left.”

  “What do you mean, she left? Where did she go? Out with Ash and Piper?” I’m feeling defensive. I don’t like feeling defensive, but something about what Dakota is saying has me on alert.

  “No, she didn’t go out. She left, Owen. Packed a bag and went to our parents’ house.”

  “She wouldn’t just leave.”

  “She would and she did. What did you think? She owed you a head’s up? Do your other booty calls let you know their plans on a regular basis?”

  Okay, now I’m just pissed. Minnie is not a booty call. She’s … well, she’s not a booty call.

  “Look, I’m not sure where all of this animosity is coming from. When will she be back? I need to talk to her. I…” I don’t want to have this conversation with Dakota, I want to have it with Minnie. I’m just not sure exactly what it is I’m going say but I know something needs to be said and only to Minnie.

  Dakota laughs and pulls a blanket from the back of the chair she’s sitting on and covers herself up. I take a moment to look at her. She looks a lot like Minnie. Their features are similar. Both are tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Dakota’s hair isn’t as long and her eyes aren’t as vibrant as Minnie’s. Of course, that could be from the year Dakota has had. Her eyes are flanked by fine lines and her smile doesn’t quite reach the levels of happiness Minnie’s does, but regardless she’s pretty. But, she’s not Minnesota.

  “There’s no animosity. I told my sister to not get involved with you. I knew this would happen. But, like any little sister, she didn’t listen. Now, here I am. Sitting here with you.”

  “You’ve really lost me. When is she coming back? I need to talk to her. We have things we have … I have things to say to her.”

  “Are you going to tell her you love her? Because, you should.”

  “What? Love? I just thought we should go on a date or something. What do you mean, love? We barely know each other. Plus, I don’t do love.”

  “You don’t do love? What the fuck does that mean? It’s not like Pilates or something. I swear you two deserve each other.”

  This conversation is going nowhere fast. I need to find Minnie. Her sister is clearly confused and she’ll make her understand what’s going on. “I think I should go. Will you tell Minnesota to call me?” I stand from the couch and turn to head toward the front door.

  “She loves you, you know.” That stops me in my tracks. With my back still to her, Dakota continues, “I personally think she can do better but the heart wants what the heart wants and all that.” I turn to look at her, absorbing her words as she smiles. “Ah, you love her, too. Maybe she was right and you are a good man. If I can offer a word of advice?” From what I can gather of Dakota, she doesn’t require my permission to continue speaking, but I nod anyway.

  “Don’t waste time. Tomorrow isn’t a guarantee and if you love her, tell her. Show her and never let her doubt what she means to you. I never doubted my husband’s love and for that I am grateful.”

  I don’t bother offering a response and instead continue walking toward and out the front door. Dakota has been through a lot and for that I’ll give her some room with her comments. But, she’s wrong.

  I don’t believe in that true love, happily ever after bullshit. That’s for other people. Not me. Sure, I like being with Minnie. I’d rather be with her than not. She’s the first person I called when I swept the floor with a weeping Landon in the new game he brought home a few weeks ago. She’s the last person I talk to before I fall asleep.

  And, sure, she was the person I went to when I had the fight with my dad. The fact that she won’t take my calls or talk to me is driving me insane. But, none of that means I love her. I’m not in love with Minnie.

  I’m not.

  Being in my parents’ guest room is weird. The walls are bare except for some random piece of “art,” and I use the term art loosely, a single chest of drawers sits in the corner, and a throwback comforter blankets the bed. It’s not the room I grew up in, but being here still feels like being home. The smells are the same, the sounds take me back to being a kid, and the comfort of my mom holding me when I’m hurting

  I’ve been successfully ignoring Owen for most of the week. I gave in to a moment of weakness and answered him once. I was proud of myself for not letting him come over. For not answering his calls. For not calling him myself. That last thought was the final straw. I realized I have never called him. I’ve never talked to him in public other than that first weekend he took me to Ranks. A place that isn’t in Lexington and nowhere any of his, our, friends would see us.

  When Dakota called me and told me she was headed home, I was so thrilled, I picked up the phone and wanted to call Owen. I wanted to share my joy and excitement of having my sister home.

  I didn’t.

  And, while it is probably not the best idea to thrust Dakota back into her life the day after she gets home, I had to leave for at least a night. Plus, Linc went to stay with her in my place to help buffer with the girls if it was needed.

  I figured since I was coming to my parents this was also an excellent opportunity to meet with my soon-to-be former employer. I’ve decided to officially resign and pack up the last of my belongings from my small office.

  Although I’ve been awake for a while, my alarm signals it’s time for me rise and face the day. Instead, I hit snooze and roll over on my side. Today I take the final step in putting my old life behind me. Gone is the relationship I thought brought stability, structure, and comfort to my life, and after today, gone will be a job that, while it offered growth and opportunity, didn’t bring me joy or a feeling of ownership.

  Even though I’ve already ended things with Kent, I know he’ll sniff me out today when I enter the building. He’ll offer me a back-handed compliment, remind me how great we could be, and force me to once again explain we’re over.

  Thoughts of my relationship with Kent run through my mind like a silent film. Black and white tidbits of … boredom. Sure, we had fun times early on, but eventually we fell into a mundane life that consisted of long work days, schedules, and chaste kisses. Sex itself became mechanical and I had resolved it to be the life I was fine with. Happiness isn’t a daily occurrence and surely many long-term relationships went through rough patches.

  When my mental movie hits the conversation about taking care of the kids, it’s no longer a silent movie. The words are loud and vivid. My hurt overshadowed by anger and disappointment. I still don’t know if the anger was directed at Kent for his response or myself for thinking he’d be different.

  My phone blare
s again and this time, I slide the red button to turn it off. I slide my feet off the bed and take a moment to gather my thoughts and put on my happy face before opening the bedroom door. The smell of coffee fills the house as I pad my way down the hall and into the kitchen. My dad is sitting at the table with a cup of Columbian goodness raised to his lips and my mom is at the stove flipping bacon. My stomach approves of all that is happening in this room.

  “Morning, honey. Coffee is brewed and your fancy creamer is in the fridge.”

  “It’s not fancy, Mom, it’s vanilla.”

  “Whatever, it’s there for you. Are you hungry?”

  My stomach answers for me and my dad laughs.

  “Starved, apparently.”

  I pull the creamer from the fridge before pouring a cup of coffee and stirring in a little of the creamer. I pause and inhale the aroma before blowing into my cup a little to cool the first sip. Heaven.

  Taking the seat across from dad at the table, I grab a section of the newspaper. My parents still subscribe to and read the actual paper every day. I’ve tried showing them how convenient the internet is for news but my parents want to support businesses like the newspaper, small coffee shops, and the public library. My mother refuses to succumb to “one of those digital book things” and will only read paperbacks she can get from the library. I love my parents, but I’ve learned to choose my battles. I’m just glad they both finally gave up the flip phones for smartphones. Baby steps.

  “Big day today, pumpkin.”

  “Don’t you think I’m a little old for the ‘pumpkin’ bit?”

  “Nope. I’m your father, I’ll call you what I like until I utter my last breath.”

  “Oh dear, that’s a little dramatic don’t you think?”

  For the next half hour, I enjoy bantering with my dad and stuffing my face with what must be half a pig’s worth of bacon before heading to the shower. Once I’ve showered, applied a little makeup, and added a little product to my hair, I toss it back in a towel on top of my head and stand in front of my bed with my outfit options laid out before me.