First Crush

by Linda Seed

  “Mmm.” Patrick adjusted his butt on the barstool. “I want to help, but I can’t break the code of honor. I’m about to be part of their family, you know.”

  “Right.” TJ nodded. “I get that. But it wouldn’t be breaking the code just to listen a little, would it?”

  “I guess not.” Patrick nodded amiably.

  So TJ told him all that had happened: how Bianca had been the first woman he’d dated since Penny; how it had been going well until TJ had lied to his mother about Bianca’s importance; the thing with the binder; the incident at Neptune; and then the conversations with first Peter and then Bianca.

  “I screwed up,” he concluded, rubbing at the stubble on his face with his hand. “I shouldn’t have said that to my mom. And I apologized, but … I can’t seem to get things back on track.”

  Patrick half-turned his body on the barstool to face TJ. “Let’s look at what we know.” He started ticking points off on his fingers. “She was in love with you in high school, but you broke her heart when you didn’t notice her.” TJ started to object, but Patrick put up a hand to quiet him. “Then, you reconnected and really hit it off. You invited her home to meet your mother—a step with great significance and a good deal of symbolism—but then you told your mother it didn’t mean anything. When you saw evidence of how much you mean to her—the binder—you pretty much cut off all communication with her. Then, you kissed her at Neptune and vanished again.” Having ticked off all of the relevant points, he gave TJ a pointed look. “It’s not breaking the code of honor to lay out everything you already know.”

  “I guess not.”

  “If I were analyzing this as the plot of a literary work,” Patrick continued, “I’d notice themes of betrayal, emotional unavailability, and repeated unrequited love.”

  Was that how it looked to Bianca? Like she’d given him nothing but love, and he just kept backing away?

  “When you put it that way, I look like an ass.”

  “And Bianca looks like a lovely, vulnerable woman who keeps putting herself out there and not getting much in return.”

  “Well … shit.” TJ felt uncomfortable with the direction this talk was taking. “It’s just … I’m getting back in the game for the first time since Penny….”

  “There’s your problem,” Patrick said casually. “To Bianca, it’s not a game.”

  TJ had suspected that he was bungling things with Bianca, and his conversation with Patrick confirmed it. Still, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. When it came down to it, he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  When he’d told Peter that he and Bianca weren’t finished, that had felt right. It had felt like the truth. He knew he wanted her in his life, but he wasn’t sure what form he wanted that to take—or how to get there.

  She’d never answered his question about whether she was going to move in with Peter, but after their conversation, when she’d told him that she and Peter hadn’t slept together lately, he assumed the answer was no. If he’d read that wrong, then the whole thing was moot anyway.

  He and Bianca would have been so great together. But it all seemed like a mess of missteps, misinformation, and poor timing. If only he’d played it differently. If only she weren’t still seeing that ass DeVries …

  Because it was all so confused in his mind, and because it was easier not to take action, TJ spent the rest of the week and part of the weekend bonding with his son on one of the rare Saturdays when Owen was with him and not with Penny.

  The kid was still feeling like crap from his medication, so they took it easy, going out for ice cream (no chocolate or nut topping because of his low-copper diet) and playing video games on TJ’s big-screen TV.

  In between games, when TJ got up to refill the bowl of popcorn they’d been sharing, he casually brought up the topic of Bianca.

  “So … I talked to Bianca last week. Dr. Russo.”

  Owen looked up from where he was seated on the sofa. “Really? I kind of thought that wasn’t happening.”

  “You did? Why?”

  Owen shrugged. “Because you’ve been moping around, and because you’ve got nothing better to do on a weekend than play video games. You don’t even like video games.”

  “But I like you, and you like video games.”

  “I guess.” Owen shrugged again.

  “It’s just … hard. With women, I mean.”

  Owen let out a pfffft sound and rolled his eyes.

  TJ, starting to become irked, brought the bowl back to the sofa and sat down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Owen reached into the bowl and took out a handful of popcorn. “Last year when I was too scared to ask Kaitlyn Blanchard to the sixth grade dance, you called me a wuss.”

  Had he said that? It sounded like him. He slumped into the sofa cushions. “Well, maybe I’m the wuss.”

  “Maybe.”

  To change the subject, TJ asked, “How’s your grandmother doing?”

  “They’re trying to get her a liver transplant. Mom’s at the hospital this weekend working on it.”

  “What? Your mom’s working on it? How?”

  “I dunno. But that’s what she said.”

  TJ hadn’t asked about his mother-in-law—former mother-in-law—enough. He hadn’t supported Penny enough. He vowed to do better. In the meantime, who needed a love life? He had his son, he had popcorn, he had work he enjoyed.

  That seemed like it should be enough, didn’t it?

  35

  The lease on the guesthouse Patrick rented in the Leimert neighborhood was finally up, and that meant he and Sofia would, at last, be living together. Their wedding day was still months away, but neither of them was old-fashioned enough to think they had to wait that long before setting up house together.

  The question had been where to do it.

  Bianca had suffered through endless dithering by both of them about where they wanted to live. His place was too small. She loved the house she shared with her sisters, but she did, in fact, share it with her sisters. Should Patrick move into Sofia’s room despite the lack of privacy? Should they rent another house together, someplace bigger than Patrick’s tiny one-bedroom but still small enough to be affordable? Buying was out of the question on Patrick’s salary, given the sky-high property values and Sofia’s meager income.

  Finally, about a month ago, Bianca had had enough.

  “I’ll buy you a house myself if it means you’ll shut up about it!” Bianca had exclaimed during yet another discussion.

  “Really?” Sofia’s eyebrows had shot upward. “What kind of house? Because we’ll need a spare bedroom for the—”

  “I’m not buying you a house.” Bianca had been making dinner—manicotti with homemade marinara and a salad—and she’d been holding a chef’s knife in her hand. She pointed the tip of the blade in the general direction of her sister.

  “Oh.”

  In the end, Bianca, Benny, and Martina had talked Sofia and Patrick into living with them. The Russo house was big enough, especially considering the fact that Sofia’s room was the largest. And it would allow Sofia and Patrick to save money for their own place, since the house was paid for and there was no mortgage payment or monthly rent.

  So, Patrick had sublet his place and the two of them had packed his things in preparation for the move.

  A lot of his things had gone into storage, of course; he’d had a house, albeit a tiny one, and now he would be sharing a single room with common-area privileges. Still, the things he’d decided he couldn’t live without amounted to a daunting number of boxes and one very large suitcase.

  They made the move on a Sunday after breakfast. The day was clear and bright, with a tang of the ocean in the air and a light breeze coming in off the water. A flock of birds in an oak tree outside the Russo house screeched their inscrutable messages to one another and to the world.

  Bianca helped—they all did, except for Benny, who was out on the ocean doing research on the dolphin population—and as she ha
uled boxes out of Patrick’s U-Haul trailer and carried them toward the house, she tried to be happy for her sister and Patrick.

  She tried, but it was hard. Because all she could think about was how happy they were, how they were embarking on the next part of their lives together, full of love and hope and optimism for the future, and here Bianca was, alone.

  It seemed that despite her attributes—she was an accomplished professional, kind to animals and children, and not unpleasant to look at—she would always be destined for loneliness.

  It’s my own damned fault. I could have been with Peter.

  Most women would consider Peter a catch. But TJ had ruined Bianca. She only wanted him, and now, looking back on it, she realized she’d always only wanted him. It had always been him.

  She couldn’t make him want her, though. She couldn’t make him feel about her the way she felt about him. And she couldn’t make herself be satisfied with Peter because he lacked one essential quality—he wasn’t TJ.

  Bianca sighed and told herself to focus on the things she did have: a satisfying career, her sisters, a community she loved. Then she went to Patrick’s U-Haul for another box.

  TJ wasn’t stalking Bianca. Of course not. Only assholes and pathetic losers did that sort of thing, and he liked to think he was neither.

  He’d just been thinking about her, that’s all. And he’d had the idea that he might drive over to her house, see her car, and get up his nerve to go to the door and knock.

  So far, he’d done three drive-bys and had zero results to show for it. The first time, her car wasn’t there. The second and third times, it was there, but he hadn’t known what he would say to her if she came to the door, so he’d kept right on driving.

  This time, he was determined to get out of the damned car and talk to her. And if that went well, maybe he’d kiss her. They could work the rest out later.

  But what he saw when he rounded the corner toward her house shook him up so badly it was a wonder he didn’t crash his truck into a power pole.

  She was moving out. There was a stack of cardboard boxes in the driveway to prove it.

  She hadn’t said she was moving in with Peter, but she hadn’t said she wasn’t, either. She’d avoided the question when he’d asked.

  He got the hell out of there, not wanting her to see him. He didn’t want to be that guy who came to a woman’s house pleading for her attention just to find out she’d chosen someone else.

  He drove home shaking, his hands gripping the wheel so hard they hurt.

  He’d fucked up. He’d dithered around, unable to make a decision, unable to take any kind of real action, until it was too late. And what for? What had he been waiting for? Some kind of sign from beyond? Some kind of divine message from God telling him Bianca was the one?

  He was an idiot.

  When he was in high school, his idiocy had hurt Bianca. And now, he was only hurting himself.

  “Fuck. Fuck.”

  Before he even knew what he was doing, he drove to his parents’ house, parked on the street, and took the porch stairs two at a time.

  He burst into the house as though he were there to announce that the place was on fire and everyone had to evacuate.

  “Mom!”

  She wasn’t in the front room, so he hunted around, looking for her.

  He found her out back, on her knees next to a flower bed, gardening gloves on her hands and a wide-brimmed hat shading her from the sun.

  “TJ.” She looked up and squinted into the sunlight behind his head. “What’s got you all worked up? Is everything okay? Is Owen all right?”

  His heart was beating fast, and he said what was on his mind before he had a chance to stop himself. “I’m in love with Bianca. I love her, Mom. I was already in love with her before, when I brought her here and told you I wasn’t. Which was stupid. Telling you that, I mean. Not bringing her.”

  He was aware he was babbling, so he stopped to take a breath.

  “But Penny …” his mother said.

  “Penny’s moved on, and I need to do that, too. I don’t love Penny anymore. I care about her, but … I’m not in love with her. I’m in love with Bianca.”

  Lily got up off the ground, took off her gloves, and brushed a bit of stray soil off her clothes. Then she looked at her son. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Troy.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it stuck up haphazardly in places. “I want you to say you’ll be nice to her. That you won’t try to chase her away. I want you to say you support me. That you want me to be happy.”

  Her eyes grew moist, and she blinked a couple of times. “I do want you to be happy. You know I do.”

  “She makes me happy, Mom. She’s who I want. And I need you to be okay with that.”

  Her face went through a range of emotions—pain and sorrow were there, but so was love. “How does Owen feel about all this?” she asked.

  “He thinks I’m stupid for waiting this long to go after her.” Now that he considered it, TJ thought his son might be smarter than he was.

  “All right. Then, I’ll try.”

  TJ felt a surge of hope. “You will?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll be nice to her? You’ll try to get to know her without judgment, and without … I don’t know. Without wishing she were Penny?”

  “I said I’ll try, son. I’m not a saint, but I’ll do my best.”

  TJ pulled his mother into a tight bear hug, then abruptly released her and headed back toward his car.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to stop Bianca from moving in with Owen’s doctor.”

  TJ still didn’t have a plan or a strategy as he got into his truck and drove away from his parents’ house. His first thought was to go straight to the Russo place, but then he second-guessed himself and headed home instead.

  He parked the truck, got out, and hurried into the house, where he found Owen sitting on the sofa watching TV.

  “Owen.” TJ stood in the doorway, mussed and breathing hard as though he’d run from the truck. Which he had.

  “Huh?” The boy looked up from the screen. “Dad. What’s going on? Am I in trouble?”

  “No, no. Just … Are you sure about Bianca?”

  “What about her?”

  “Are you sure it’s okay with you if I … if we’re … you know. A couple. Because I think I might love her.” Listening to himself, he realized he was still dithering, and that had to stop. “I don’t think it, I know it. I love her.”

  Owen rolled his eyes. “I already told you I like her. What are you waiting for?”

  It was an excellent question. What the hell was he waiting for?

  “All right.” TJ bounced on his feet a little in nervous excitement. “I’m gonna tell her. Right now. I’m gonna go over there and tell her.”

  Owen sat up straight from where he’d been slumping on the sofa. “Cool. Can I come?”

  36

  By midmorning, all of Patrick’s things had been moved into the house, and he was unpacking in Sofia’s room amid a flurry of boxes, packing materials, books, and random belongings including, but not limited to, toiletries, T-shirts, framed family photos, personal electronics, and clean underwear.

  “Where are you going to put everything?” Bianca asked doubtfully as she stood in the doorway, her shoulder leaning against the jamb. “The books alone …”

  “About that.” Sofia looked up from where she was rooting around in a box. “I was wondering if Patrick could have some space in the hall closet … maybe just a shelf. And then there’s the garage….”

  “Sure.” Bianca nodded. “I’ll move some things around, do some consolidation. I’m sure we can find some room.”

  “Thank you.” Patrick paused in his work, holding a handful of balled socks. “Not just for that, but for letting me move in.”

  “You say that now,” Bianca told him. “Just wait until you’ve had to share a house with Benny for a few months. Yo
u won’t be so grateful then.”

  “Hey! I heard that,” Benny called from somewhere else in the house.

  Bianca was vaguely aware of the sound of someone knocking on the door. Probably Mrs. Markowitz from next door, complaining about the U-Haul parked on the street. Mrs. Markowitz was always complaining about something.

  “Tell Mrs. Markowitz the U-Haul will be gone in an hour,” Bianca called to whomever was answering the door.

  A few moments later, Martina came down the hallway to Sofia’s room.

  “It’s not Mrs. Markowitz,” she said. “TJ and his son are here to see you.”

  Bianca froze. When she’d gathered herself, she said, “About what?”

  “I don’t know.” Martina crossed her arms over her chest, her bangle bracelets jangling. “But he seems pretty worked up.”

  Her first thought was that Owen must be sick. Why else would TJ have brought him? And why else would he be worked up? The boy had taken a turn for the worse, and it was a weekend, so her office was closed.…

  She hurried into the living room, already worried.

  “What’s going on? Is he okay?” She went straight to Owen and began a quick physical examination, looking at his coloring and the whites of his eyes.

  “I’m fine,” Owen said.

  “He’s fine,” TJ agreed.

  He did seem okay. His color still wasn’t normal, exactly, but it had improved since his treatment began. And he didn’t look sick. He looked … excited. He was bouncing on the toes of his sneakers and smiling.

  “Okay, then … what’s going on?”

  TJ looked like a man who had something on his mind that was about to burst out of him. He also looked anxious and a little upset … and damned adorable, standing there in faded jeans and a worn T-shirt, his thick hair mussed and his chin showing a shadow of stubble.

  “It’s … I think …” TJ looked at Owen uncertainly.

  “Dad, jeez. Tell her.” The kid rolled his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to move in with Peter,” he blurted out.