“Wow, ladies, don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.” Humor was probably the exact wrong approach, but John did better in one-on-one situations where he could deal with a single person’s emotions, not three rapid firing at him.
“I appreciate your concern for Augusta. I’m glad she has friends like you looking out for her, but I vow to you, I am not setting out to hurt her. I would sooner cut off my own arm than cause her pain. I know that seems like lip service after what you’ve heard happened, but I promise you, it’s not like that.”
Tori’s hand landed on his shoulder and gave him a bit of reassurance that she hadn’t taken up arms against him just yet. “Then what is it like, John? I know you are attracted to her, care for her. It’s obvious to me now that Mom pointed it out. I don’t know how I ever missed it, but I don’t understand your hesitation now that Dax and Stacy are together. I’m sorry for that, by the way, but you have to admit, it would make one hell of a movie plot.”
Leave it to Tori to bring everything back to movies, kind of like Augusta did with songs. Sadly, this whole debacle would make a good movie plot or cheesy romance book idea, but as far as his life went, it sucked. John was in an uncommon state for him. Even with all the curveballs his life had thrown him, he had never hesitated to step up to the plate and take a swing. Sure, I strike out sometimes, but I’d never get a hit if I didn’t swing. That was the way he lived his life…until now. Until Augusta.
But the pregnancy was the one thing John was having a hell of a time getting over. So, instead of risking a strike out, he just stood there, bat in hand and watched the balls fly by.
Then last night happened. It wasn’t planned, it just happened, naturally, like it was guided by something other than his conscious hesitation, and it was glorious. As soon as he caught himself living in the moment, he pulled back, and that hurt worse than if he’d just said good night at the door. God damn it, fighting myself is harder than fighting anyone else. For those fleeting moments in the foyer, John was free—free from his past, and free from the reins he held on himself.
John appreciated Tori’s apology and willingness to move on from her failed matchmaking attempts, but could he move on? Could he share his secrets and shame with Augusta then put them in the past where they belonged? Could he get over their age difference and accept his other inadequacies? Could she? Could he walk up to the plate, set his feet, and take a swing at the next ball pitched to him? That’s the question that seems impossible to answer.
“Tori, you have nothing to apologize for. What you did, you did out of love, and for the record, it has nothing to do with the present situation, so stop worrying.” John patted her hand and enjoyed the sisterly love he felt for Tori.
He returned his hand to the yoke and made a quick call to the tower. Then he decided to ask for advice. It wasn’t something he traditionally did, but he felt that the three people in the cabin each had a unique perspective on relationships, ones that might be relevant to his situation.
Tori had been in a bad relationship when she met Michael. Michael had suffered a trauma and cast some undeserved blame Tori’s way for it. Erika had a huge misunderstanding with Walker and left the state, and their stubbornness cost them dearly. So, each one has an extremely relevant prospective to offer me.
“You did so much for us, listened to more of my woes than I care to admit, so throw it out there. It stays here with us, and who knows, old man, maybe us youngins have some wisdom you don’t.” Michael’s voice held concern.
“First off, like I keep telling you, I am not that much older than your girl back there, so cut it out.”
Before John could add something to take the edge off what he said, make it seem more of a joke than a sore spot, Erika piped, “Is that an issue for you John, your age? If it is, well, you need to get the fuck over it. I am older than Walker, Tori is older than Michael, I mean, hell, she probably has gray pubes by now.”
That was interrupted by a slew of curses and not so savory names being hurled back and forth and what appeared to devolve into a good-natured slap fight. For grown women, they sure were acting like teenagers.
“Ladies, save it for Jell-O and a high-def camera, please,” Michael delivered with his hands in front of his face and camera clicking sounds.
“Children, don’t make me turn this plane around,” John spoke at the same time as Michael, cancelling each other out over the headsets, but loud enough that it could still be heard.
“Tori, stop it, you old crone. This is serious, but for the record, I’m not sorry.” Erika stuck her tongue out like a twelve-year-old.
“You will be, hooker. You have to sleep sometime, and I think your eyebrows are a little Salma Hayek in Frida-looking. Buzzzzzz.” Mocking a shaving motion, Tori laughed the entire time.
Sometimes it was hard to believe those two weren’t real sisters raised together. After they got their inner children under control, Erika continued, “Where was I? Oh yeah, the getting the fuck over it part. Did you know that not a single couple in our happy little clan is traditional? Not in any way that people expect, not even age. Frank and Francis have been together since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and did you know, Francis has at least a decade on him? So, see, age is just a number. Problem solved, I am awesome, and you should all bow before my amazingness.”
Erika smugly dusted off her hands and folded her arms like she had just balanced the country’s budget.
Granted, the age thing had been creeping into his mind an awful lot lately, but it wasn’t the biggest hurdle. “Wow, really? Francis looks my age. For that matter, so does Frank.”
“It’s actually sixteen years, Miss Know-It-All,” Tori quipped. “So yes, age is just a number and all that, but I have a feeling that is not what is holding John back, am I right?” Tori’s mood shifted back to serious.
“I have a lot of mental roadblocks up. They never really bothered me before, because I guess that wasn’t a road I wanted to travel, but now?” John trailed off. He didn’t know how to continue without breaching some sort of trust with Augusta. She deserved to hear about his son first. The problem was, he wasn’t exactly his son. But after all this time, John still thought of him that way. Even now that he knew the truth, had since practically the day he was born, he still had a son-sized roadblock in his way.
“Well,” Erika paused, “I can tell you first-hand, being childish and stubborn and running away is the wrong answer. Clinging to what you think you know rather than just fucking reaching for the truth will only hurt you and Gus in the end. I am so fucking thankful every damn minute that things worked out for me and Walker. I mean, shit, I did everything humanly possible to sabotage it, not on purpose, but because I acted like a bratty child. I didn’t trust my damned heart to guide me. And I didn’t trust him to know what he wanted.”
Before John could chew on her words of wisdom, he laughed at the fact that Erika was cursing up a storm. She was always so careful around little Willow, but when she got away, she adopted a sailor on shore leave vocabulary—just like Walker; that man said fuck more than the population of the panhandle did it. John was cracking himself up; that was the first clue this little tet-a-tet was just what he needed.
In his peripheral vision, John noticed Michael examining his wedding ring, seemingly pondering on the I Care inscribed inside.
Once he replaced the ring, he shared his thoughts. “You know, when I was at my lowest point and thought that I would never pull myself up, a wise, bearded mutha told me, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘the question isn’t how you feel, but what you are willing to do to prove it.’” Michael’s seriousness spoke to his emotion. For a moment, silence reigned. John took that time to reflect on the words shared with him. “For what it’s worth, I’ve learned that the people worthy of being in your future will be able to handle your past.”
“Ha, look at you, all grown up and shit,” Erika teased Michael, before turning to John and dropping the humor. “Speaking of pasts, John, have you ever listened to A
ugusta when she talks about how she views our individual pasts, or when she is trying to bring Walker to a good place? Hell, have you ever watched one of her live feeds?” Before he had a chance to answer, Erika continued, “She says we are more than the sum of our past actions and stronger than it.”
John valued those words, but he would probably appreciate them so much more when he didn’t have a burning question occupying all his brain cells. “What live feeds?” Augusta had a live feed. How did he not know about it? He thought he knew everything, or at least, quite a bit. They had been growing closer as friends before the pregnancy. Obviously, that’s just one more thing I’ve lost along the way. That loss was hard to swallow, as a matter of fact, he refused to.
“Seeing your shock, I can only assume she didn’t tell you. I’m not going to be the one to drop her secrets to you. That is for the two of y’all to work out.” Erika raised her hands in surrender. “I will say her approach to the past makes me believe there is nothing short of hating Lynyrd Skynyrd that she couldn’t handle.”
Everyone agreed that was a deal-breaker, and it lightened the mood.
Michael recounted, “This old guy advised me once to start by assessing what I feel versus what I want or think I want, and to surround myself with the right people.”
John was a little choked up. Not only had Michael taken his words to heart and applied them to his situation, he was reminding John of them when they applied to his own life, as well. That, or it could have been the three hands that landed on his shoulders overwhelming him with emotions. I am one lucky S-O-B. Now, if I can get over myself and see where it could lead between Augusta and me, I might just get luckier.
“Hold your horses, I’m waddling your way,” Gus shouted toward the front door in response to the doorbell followed by an inpatient knock. It was going to be lonely without her sister in this world, but Jan deserved it for knocking at the door and ringing incessantly. “Jesus, for a little thing, you sure have a giant pair of…” She trailed off when she snatched the door open to reveal not January, but Andy and Marco laden down with gifts and flowers.
“A giant pair of what, Gus?” Andy inquired around the white bag bearing the logo of the local pharmacy he had clenched in his teeth. Next to him stood a giant arrangement of wildflowers surrounded by bags of groceries, hanging from tanned arms.
The flowers spoke, “No one has ever accused my cariño of being a little thing before.” Marco’s head emerged from the side of what appeared to be black-eyed susans. “Are you going to invite us in so I can set these lovely things down and get my hands on that even lovelier belly?”
“Of course, come in.” Gus moved to the side to make room for the two men and all their gifts. “Sorry, I was expecting my sister. She’s usually the only one that impatient. I am so glad you’re finally here. I don’t want y’all to miss one more minute of this pregnancy.”
As soon as Andy’s arms were free, he wrapped them around Gus. She sighed and leaned into his embrace. The baby instantly started moving about, like Butterbean could tell that was daddy. “Oh, Augusta, have I told you how much I love you, we love you. And not just because of the pregnancy.”
Marco’s embrace came from behind and encompassed them both. “Yes, little mama, what he said. We love you so much.”
There was sympathy lacing his words, both their words. Andy and Marco were amazing men—gentle and kind, intelligent and funny, but fiercely loyal and protective. They were going to be the best fathers a kid can have. Their concern was genuine, and truly not just because she was carrying their child, but because they cared about her beyond what she could do for them.
“Ohh.” Gus untangled herself from their arms and grabbed each of their hands and placed them on her belly. “Butterbean is doing summersaults to welcome y’all.”
The look on their faces made every minute of this worthwhile. Nothing mattered in that moment but the experience and the love Andy and Marco were reveling in. Nothing, not even John.
Gus was blown away by that thought. It was the proof she needed that she could move on. As much as she loved John—and she did, deeply—nothing would be worth regretting one second of this pregnancy for, even if it meant she would never experience the kind of mutual love all the couples around her had.
Gus was all cried out. She’d spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours wallowing in self-pity and a half-gallon of Bunny Tracks and whining to her cats about how she couldn’t go on without John in her life and how she was broken beyond repair. She even thought of moving away after the baby was born to avoid the awkward barbecues and Sunday gatherings. But as she stared down at the top of the heads of the two men who had dropped to their knees and were cooing at her belly, she realized she wasn’t broken.
Her heart had taken quite a blow, and she believed she could never love the same again. But she could still love. It would just be different than the deep love she held for John. She could be loved, too. Maybe not Marco and Andy kind of love, but the couples around her were anomalies anyway.
Most people didn’t get a fairy tale love, they got an average kind of love and were happy to have it. I am not some simpering fainting lady, I am Augusta Rain freaking Thorne. My actions may be flawed, but that doesn’t mean I am broken. I am stronger than my pain. That was the first time in a long time she told herself that and actually believed it.
It struck her as ironic that she could build other people up all day long, but she doubted her words when directed inward.
Both perceptive men noticed her little mental vacation, because they rose, led her to the couch, and started pampering her…and pumping her for information.
She rested her head in Andy’s lap, and he pet her hair like a cat while Marco had her feet in his, rubbing and kneading her aching arches. She could drift off into the sand man’s realm so easily…if they didn’t both start giving her advice and asking her questions at the same time.
“Man, you guys really know how to ruin a good foot rub.” Gus tried to right herself, but Andy shushed her and gently encouraged her to leave her head where it was. After a few moments of blissful silence and amazing pampering, Gus let her eyes shutter closed and relaxed—truly relaxed for seemingly the first time since she opened her womb for rent.
Gus was enjoying the respite—that beautiful groggy place between wake and sleep. She was aware of her surroundings, but she was boneless enough not to give a crap. Of course, when Andy and Marco started discussing her love life, or lack thereof, it perked her up quickly. Dang it, I know they mean well, but couldn’t they have at least waited until I started to drool? Even though she was slightly annoyed, she hoped to maybe grab a pearl of wisdom from their conversation when it wasn’t directed at her.
“It’s déjà vu all over again, huh, Marco. A pregnant woman we care about, pining away for a man she could have if she only opened her heart and mind, and trusted in her feelings.”
“It sure is, only this time, it’s our child she’s carrying, and John may just be more bull-headed than Walker. Wait, what am I saying, that’s impossible.” The two men shared a strained chuckle. “At least Augusta is more logical about things than Erika will ever be.”
“This is true, this is true. But, sometimes emotions and logic get jumbled when dealing with matters of the heart.”
“Well then, carino, what are we going to do to bring John, that self-denial devil, to our ever-optimistic angel here?” Gus’ breath caught at the question. She peeked through her lashes as Andy leaned over, meeting Marco halfway for a quick kiss. After considering each other’s eyes for a moment, they returned to their positions, but each left one of their hands intertwined on the back of the couch while continuing their ministrations with the other.
Snapping her lids closed before they could notice, Gus feigned a deeper relaxation than she was experiencing. She wanted to hear Andy’s answer desperately.
“We are not going to do anything, my love. This is between the two of them.”
“But, the
y are miserable. She is miserable, and carrying our child. For that alone, she deserves to be showered in all the treasures life has to offer, including a love like ours. How can you just sit there and do nothing?”
Gus couldn’t believe her ears. Andy wasn’t going to get involved? He was involved in everyone’s relationship. He was like a non-bearded version of Dax; he saw deeper than most people—the gay Dr. Phil. When Gus cracked her lids once more to observe Andy shrug, she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.
She opened her eyes and sat up, or at least tried to. Andy helped, and she crossed her arms over the top of her belly and under her breasts. It was the only place she could do so at this point. “Yeah, Mr. ‘I’m involved in everyone’s relationship,’ how can you just sit there and do nothing?” When the only answer that came her way was a raised eyebrow, Gus almost lost her mind. “You have no problem helping everyone else, why not me?”
Gus wanted to smack the amused grin right off Andy’s perfectly chiseled face. “How long did you think you could lie on my lap and me not notice you were awake? Feel your breath hitch at the mention of John? Or see your jewel-toned eyes peeking through your luxurious lashes?”
The way he said it was smug and superior. Very lawyer-like. It just irritated her more. She got up and headed toward the kitchen to find a vase for her flowers, and to occupy her hands and mind before she gave Andy a piece of both.
Andy and Marco joined her, helping put away groceries and busying their hands…and their mouths. “Augusta, listen, everything I would say to you isn’t something you haven’t run through that pretty little head of yours. And, John is…well, John. Any interference from me, and he will shut down. You know this. If he asks me for advice, I’ll joyfully give it, but any unsolicited words would have the opposite effect of what is desired.”
Inevitably Yours (Imagine Ink Book 4) Page 6