by Linda Seed
“It wasn’t bad.” In fact, it was so not-bad that Bianca found herself growing misty-eyed at the memory of it and how deeply it had moved her. “It was good. It was very good.” Her voice was squeaky with emotion.
“Oh, boy.” Martina wiped her hands on a towel and went to the sofa. “The granola can wait. Bianca … what happened?”
“We did it, and it was great. I mean, God, it was so … And he …” Bianca gestured ineffectually with her hands.
“Bianca, take a breath.” Sofia sat next to her. “Just tell us.”
“ ‘The angels wept.’ That’s a cliché about great sex, right? Except I think they actually might have. There might have been actual angels, and they might have wept. And then, and then, he told me he hadn’t slept with anyone except Penny before me. And now …”
Sofia put a hand on Bianca’s shoulder. “And now?”
“And now,” Bianca went on, “he’s free! He’s not married anymore. He can do whatever he wants. He can date people, and have sex, and find out what he’s been missing.”
“So?” Martina asked.
“So, what if what happened between us was just … just him finding out what he was missing? What if I’m just an experiment? Just … exploration? What if he’s thinking, ‘Well, that was great. I wonder if all of the non-Penny sex is like this!’ And then he decides to go and find out?”
“Oh.” Sofia frowned as she considered that. It didn’t escape Bianca’s notice that neither of her sisters was telling her that she was wrong and that her scenario was out of the question.
“That could happen,” Martina conceded.
“See?” Bianca exclaimed.
“Or,” Martina continued, “he might be thinking, ‘That was great. I think I’ll pursue a meaningful relationship with Bianca so I can have more of it.’ ”
Bianca moaned and plunked her head down onto her knees.
“Wait a minute.” Sofia pointed a finger at her. “If it was so great, why are you here and not there? Why didn’t you spend the night? Owen’s not home, so why aren’t the two of you over at his place making moony eyes over pancakes?”
“Because.” Bianca’s voice was muffled as she said the word into her flannel pajama pants.
“I can’t hear you, Bianca,” Martina said.
Bianca lifted her head. “He didn’t ask me to stay.”
“Did he ask you not to stay?” Sofia said.
“No. He just … We had sex, and it was so … and I was so … and I didn’t know whether to stay or not, because he hadn’t sent me any signals, and the last thing you want to do is sleep over when the guy is silently wishing you would go the hell home.”
“That’s true,” Sofia agreed.
“So I decided it was better to go home and have him wishing I’d stayed than to stay and have him wishing I’d left.”
“I can’t fault the logic,” Martina observed. “On the other hand, if you’d just asked him what he wanted, then you might be having morning sex right now.”
“I love morning sex,” Sofia said. “I’m going to have a lot of morning sex after Patrick moves in.”
“When is that happening, by the way?” Martina asked.
“Soon. He can’t get out of his lease, but he’s found someone to sublet the place, so it’s all systems go. Are you guys sure you don’t mind? His place is small, but we can find a bigger rental if we have to. Still, the mortgage on this place is paid, so …”
“Of course we don’t mind,” Martina said.
“Can we get back to me, please?” Bianca made a time-out gesture with her hands.
“Right. You’re worried he was just using you to get back in the game, so to speak, so you cheated yourself out of morning sex,” Sofia summarized.
Martina squeezed Bianca’s forearm, her own arm jingling with silver bracelets. Her hair was in a thick braid down her back, and she was wearing a tank top and a pair of loose, flowing linen pants. And that was another argument against morning sex: Bianca had never, on her best morning, looked as flawlessly elegant as Martina did now.
“Bianca,” she said, “you’re overthinking this. Can we guarantee you TJ isn’t just using you for experience? No. Can we guarantee he won’t want to move on and play the field? No. Can we promise you won’t get hurt? Of course not.”
“You’re really not helping,” Bianca said.
“But,” Martina went on, as though Bianca hadn’t spoken, “things with TJ definitely won’t work out if you’re so scared and defensive you don’t give him a chance. Love is risk. It always has been. But you still have to try.”
It was a stirring speech, and Bianca found herself feeling a little bit better—except for the regret that she’d cheated herself out of morning sex.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” she said.
“Of course I am,” Martina said.
“You know,” Sofia put in as she slung the strap of her gym bag over her shoulder, “the kind of guy who gets to his late thirties having only slept with one woman isn’t the kind who’s going to suddenly start screwing around just for sport. For what it’s worth.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Martina said.
Bianca did, too. It was one of the many things that made her ache for him, and she didn’t want to ache. She’d had enough aching where TJ Davenport was concerned.
And yet, here she was, aching.
Damn it.
TJ made his morning coffee while calculating how long, exactly, he had to wait before calling Bianca.
If he called her this early, he might wake her up, which might annoy her, and rule one of wooing women, he figured, was to try not to annoy them.
On the other hand, if he waited too long, that might annoy her, and in addition, he might miss a chance to see her today.
And he really wanted to see her today.
It was Sunday, and he didn’t have to get Owen from Penny until this evening. That meant he had a stretch of time in the morning and afternoon that lay wide open, just waiting for him to fill it with something.
He wanted that something to be Bianca.
He whistled as he measured coffee grounds into the filter. By God, he was whistling. He hadn’t even been aware that he knew how to whistle. There was no end to the new things a man might learn about himself.
And one thing he’d learned was that he hadn’t felt good in a very long time. In his marriage to Penny, he hadn’t been living—just existing. And then, during and after the divorce, all he could do was get by, taking care of Owen, working, paying the bills, looking forward to that distant time when he might not feel like he was struggling just to hold his shit together.
He hadn’t felt good in a very long time, but right now, he was feeling good. He felt alive and optimistic in a way that was wholly foreign to him. He wanted to keep feeling that way—and for that, he needed to see Bianca.
He poured his coffee and took his mug out onto the front porch, where he sat on a white wooden swing that looked like something straight out of the Andy Griffith Show. Damn, it was a beautiful day. Of course, he probably would have thought it was a beautiful day even if it had been hailing.
But it wasn’t. The sun was shining, the sky was a clear, bright blue, birds were singing in the oak trees in his front yard, and a squirrel was happily running across the grass.
He was still thinking about the squirrel and the birds and especially Bianca when his cell phone rang in his back pocket.
He pulled it out and saw the number: his mother.
“Hey, Mom.” His voice sounded unreasonably chirpy even to him.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Despite any issues TJ might have had with his mother, hearing the pleasure and warmth in her voice when she greeted him always made him feel safe and loved, as though he were still five years old, being tucked into bed after a story and a snack.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Troy, I was wondering whether you could come over for lunch today. Your aunt Paula is visiting, and she’d love to see you.�
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Lily always referred to her sister that way when talking to TJ—“your aunt Paula”—as though he might not remember exactly who she was if not given a reminder.
“Oh.”
“Are you busy? Because she’s only here for the afternoon, and I thought—”
“Ah, no. No, I’m not busy.”
The truth was, he’d have loved to see Paula under other circumstances, but he was hoping to get together with Bianca today. The news of his aunt’s visit would have been happy for him if it hadn’t spelled doom for his plans to be with his girlfriend. Because he was already thinking of her that way—as his girlfriend—even though they had no arrangement of that sort. He couldn’t seem to help thinking of her that way.
“Oh, good,” Lily said. “We were planning to eat here at one, if that works for you. It’s too bad Owen won’t be here, but I was hoping …”
She was still talking, but he’d zoned out. He couldn’t focus on what his mother was saying because he was preoccupied with all of the things he now wouldn’t be doing with Bianca this afternoon.
“Look.” He interrupted his mother, who was going on about the lunch menu and Paula’s travel plans. “I’m not sure I’m going to make it.”
“But you said you’re not busy.”
“Well …” He scratched his head. “I’m not. But I’m hoping I will be.”
“What does that mean?” Her voice was flat. She clearly was not pleased with him.
He thought of making up a story, but decided on the truth instead. “I was just about to call Bianca and ask her if she wants to do something today.”
“So you don’t have plans, then.”
TJ saw what he had done, and he scolded himself for his stupidity. Why had he admitted he didn’t have plans? What would it have hurt to have told his mother one little white lie?
“Well … no. I guess I don’t. But … Hey. I have an idea. Why don’t I bring her along? You always make more food than we need.” If Lily didn’t have enough leftovers to feed a family of four, she figured she hadn’t done her job adequately. TJ could eat enough to prepare for hibernation and Lily would still have adequate supplies to send him home with a plate for the next day.
“You want to bring her? So, you and this woman are serious, then?”
TJ should have been tipped off to trouble by the way his mother had said this woman. But, for whatever reason, he’d missed the signal. All he knew was that he wanted to see Bianca, and at the same time, he knew he couldn’t get out of going to his mother’s.
It made sense to combine the two things, didn’t it?
“I’ll call her and ask her if she wants to come,” he said.
“Fine.” Something in Lily’s voice said that it wasn’t really fine, and if TJ had been less of an oblivious fool, he would have noticed it.
26
“You want me to meet your mother?” Bianca sounded both surprised and full of dread, which was not how TJ wanted her to feel.
“Well … I’m sure you’ve already met her. You live in Cambria, and she lives in Cambria, and it’s a small town, so I figure you must have run into each other. And anyway, I don’t mean meet her, meet her. Not in a come home to meet my parents kind of way. This is more of a I want to see you, and I have to see my mother, so why not do both kind of deal.”
TJ squeezed his eyes shut, contemplating just how big of an awkward mess he was making of this conversation. He looked at the cell phone in his hand as though it might offer him some guidance, but it was silent on the subject. He put it back to his ear.
“You know, forget I asked,” he said. “It’s awkward, I get it. Owen will be with Penny again next weekend, so maybe then we can—”
“Yes, I’ll come to your mother’s house,” Bianca said.
TJ was so surprised that he worried he hadn’t heard her correctly. “You … wait. What?”
“What time would you like to pick me up?”
TJ was just enough of an idiot to think it was a good thing that she’d said yes, and he grinned. “How about noon?”
“You slept together once and he’s already taking you to see his mom? That must have been some really great sex.” Martina had heard Bianca’s end of the conversation and hadn’t been able to resist commenting on it.
“I’m not seeing his mom. His mom will be there and I’ll be there. That’s all.” Bianca knew that sounded almost as dumb as what TJ had managed to stammer out, but she went with it.
“You’re going to his mother’s house. The day after you slept together for the first time. Unless he’s planning to pretend you’re his Pilates instructor, this is big.”
Was it? Part of Bianca wanted to believe that was true, but another part of her was horrified by the thought. As strong as her feelings for TJ had been over the years, and as much as she wanted things to work out with him, it was impossible to miss the giant red flag flapping in the distance.
Meeting his mother this soon could mean he was desperate to get his life back after the divorce and was suffering from a severe case of rebound. She didn’t want to be his rebound woman, because that kind of thing was doomed to fail.
On the other hand, if it really was what he’d said—he wanted to see her, and he had to see his mom, so he was conveniently combining two things—then it could be that there wasn’t a problem.
Another thing to consider: Bianca believed you could learn a lot about a man by the way he treated his mother, so this was a prime opportunity for her to gather some key facts about TJ before she got in too deep.
“It’s just fact-finding,” she tried.
“Fact-finding,” Martina repeated.
“Yes. If we’re going to be seeing each other, why wouldn’t I want to know about his mother? And his father? And the home he grew up in? Those are all …” She scrambled for a coherent argument. “They’re key factors in predicting the odds of relationship success,” she concluded.
“I suppose,” Martina said, considering it.
“Well … I can’t say no,” Bianca told her sister. “Because saying that I don’t want to see his mother would be making a statement. A statement that all of this is just fun. That we’re just playing around. And I’m not playing.”
“I know you’re not.” Martina looked at Bianca with sympathy. “That’s what worries me.”
Bianca dressed conservatively for the lunch with TJ’s mother. It wasn’t her professional look—too formal—but it wasn’t what she’d normally wear on a Sunday at home, either. She aimed for the sweet spot in between: something that said she was serious but relaxed. Attractive but not going out of her way to advertise it.
Walking that tightrope was already exhausting, and she hadn’t even gotten to his parents’ place.
By the time TJ picked her up, she’d run the pro and con scenarios of going through with this a thousand times. It wasn’t too late—she could still plead illness or insanity. When she opened the door to him, she was more tense than she would have been if she’d been preparing for a job interview.
“You look nice.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a quick kiss.
“Do I?” she blurted out. “If the two extremes are ‘stripper on her day off’ and ‘nun,’ then I want to hit something right in the middle. Something like ‘attractive receptionist.’ But I don’t know if this is ‘attractive receptionist,’ TJ. It’s been a long time since I’ve met a man’s mother. Peter’s mother is dead. Oh, God.”
Bianca hadn’t meant to spew out all of her insecurities to him. They hadn’t been seeing each other long enough for her to be sure he wouldn’t flee in terror. But somehow, it had all come out anyway. She wished she could turn back time by two minutes and staple her lips shut.
“You look great,” he said. “Although, maybe a little freaked out.”
It wasn’t until Bianca’s rant at the door that TJ realized he’d miscalculated the situation. He’d thought bringing Bianca along today was a matter of multitasking—he’d wanted to see her and see his
mother at the same time. But now he could see that Bianca was reading more into it. She wasn’t just meeting his mother, she was Meeting His Mother. That wasn’t how he’d intended it, but there was no way to walk it back now. There was no acceptable way to say that he wasn’t serious enough about her at this point to add those capital letters.
Especially when part of him was exactly that serious.
He tried to downplay the situation in a way that wouldn’t offend her or make her decide she didn’t want to sleep with him anymore. Because that really would be TJ’s worst-case scenario.
“Look. I hope you don’t think … This isn’t … My mom wanted me to come over because my aunt is visiting, but I really wanted to see you, so I thought …”
Damn it. He was bungling this badly, making his prospects for future sex dim with each passing second.
“This isn’t what? What isn’t it?” Bianca looked as confused as he sounded.
“There’s just no pressure, that’s all.” That seemed like a safe enough thing to say. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or nervous. It’s just a casual lunch.” He reached out and took her hand in his.
But now that he realized his misstep, he wondered if what he was saying was true. He thought of it as casual, as no big deal. But clearly, Bianca didn’t. Did his mother? Had she also misread the situation? Did she think Bianca was Meeting His Mother?
As he led Bianca out to his truck, he felt a sense of impending doom. Maybe something would happen to derail this thing before he got to his mother’s place.
A flat tire wouldn’t have been unwelcome.
The Davenport house, situated amid a stand of pines and oaks in the Lodge Hill neighborhood, was a 1920s bungalow that had been renovated in the 1970s and had barely been touched since. The front porch needed a paint job, but the flower garden lining the front walk had been tended with care, with daffodils and calla lilies springing robustly from the earth.