The smell of whiskey permeated the room. I hid my boobs, which he continued to leer at while licking his lips, behind crossed arms.
Simon leaped forward, knocking over the table and spilling his sweet and sour chicken onto the carpet. My brother, primed to pounce, was a force of nature ready to unleash a tornado of anger. With reflexes a bit quicker than Simon’s, Keaton grabbed him in an awkward bear hug and held him back. “You shut your mouth!” Simon jerked his body one way, then another, trying to break Keaton’s powerful hold.
“Get him out of here,” I told Keaton, before wheeling around to face the new happy couple. “You’re way too old for me, you nasty perv. And you are way too young for her.” I turned my anger to my mother. “And what do you think you’re doing? What about Alex?”
“Alex moved out.” She tossed her head in the screw-you move I used on her with frequency.
“Before or after you started banging the pedophile?”
She took two steps toward me. I stood my ground, and she moved back to protect her new boyfriend. Simon continued to yell from the kitchen for Keaton to let him go. The sounds of struggle filled the air, but I ignored it, rage driving me on.
“Hey, my name is Tim.”
He said it as if I cared.
“Well, I doubt it’s what we’ll call you in this house.” I had a list of names for him already, and I’d only met him seconds earlier. Funny, but the list didn’t include Tim.
“Go to your room, Jocelyn.”
She looked up at him, but told me what to do.
She’d lost all the power in our relationship. The shock written on her face said she knew it, too.
I figured I’d gone this far I might as well go all in. “Go to hell, Mother.” I stomped into the kitchen. “Let’s get out of here.” I took Simon’s keys from the hook by the back door and tossed them to Keaton. “You drive.”
“What is she doing?” Simon fumed from the back seat. “And did you see how that son of a bitch looked at you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It was gross.” My skin puckered at the memory of his sleazy leer.
“Who the hell is he anyway?”
“I don’t know.” Was this loser the reason she’d been having so many girl’s nights, and the reason she’d started dressing in my clothes? Wearing my makeup? It meant our mother broke her marriage vows.
It took all of one second for me to realize the day I'd spent with my mother had been less about quality time and more about her buying my good behavior. My heart ached and tears sprung to my eyes. I took a deep breath and shoved it all down. Simon needed me more than I needed to worry about my own pain.
“And what about Alex?” His voice lost its anger and turned sad.
Alex had been the only father figure he’d ever known, and this kind of thing made real fathers leave their kids. Sadly, I knew we’d lost Alex, would probably never see him again. My heart ached a little more and not merely for Simon’s pain. Mom’s behavior embarrassed me.
While Simon’s devastation loomed on the air, my thoughts turned back to Alex. Had he known? My heart thudded sharply in my chest.
“She said he moved out.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “Maybe he’ll let us live with him.” I hoped I could convince Alex. Sure, in the beginning we argued, and I hated him, but we’d reached an understanding and a mutual respect. Plus, I’d learned to hide my bad behavior better. I hoped.
Then it happened. Simon reverted to his mother loving ways.
“Maybe we should go back and talk to her. She’s our mom.”
“Yours maybe.” I shook my head. “And you can go home if you want, but when I go back I’m going to be grounded for a very long time. I told our mother to go to hell, and I ain’t walking in that door until I enjoy my one night of freedom.” I smiled devilishly. “Besides, I have something to do tonight.” My voice dropped to a whisper I believed only Keaton could hear.
He looked over at me. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“You.” My fate already sealed, I wanted to take at least one good memory along with me. I knew I would be spending the next year or so trapped in my room.
“I can hear you, you know,” Simon said loudly. “And you’re both disgusting.”
Chapter 9
Present July 15, 2009
I left Keaton’s and delivered the wedding cake I'd labored over on Friday. Pathetically, I never let my phone out of my sight. I even made Lizette call me twice to make sure it still accepted calls. By nine-thirty that night, a full-blown tantrum loomed on the horizon. To avoid embarrassing myself, I chose to pack it in and go to bed, forgetting about Keaton Shaw and this rotten day.
So what if he didn’t call? Three years passed without a single word, and I survived it quite nicely. Thank you very much. So what if I spent the day laboring over a plan to get to know him again? His not calling told me everything I need to know. Keaton only cared about Keaton. His promises still meant nothing. Damn him anyway. I tossed and turned as the thoughts rolled around in my head.
After a sleepless night, my second in a row, I crawled out of bed and trouped into the shower. A bigger problem than Keaton took precedence--my mother’s Sunday dinner and the excuse I could fabricate to get out of going. In the last three weeks, I’d faked cramps, a migraine, and a sprained ankle. One more missed dinner and she would probably require a doctor’s note.
I cursed aloud, which I hardly ever did, and pulled my favorite jeans from the closet. If I couldn’t find a graceful way out of happy family time, I could at least be comfy. I layered the jeans with a black tank top, wrapped a turquoise scarf around my neck, and slipped black sandals on my feet. As I blew my hair dry and straightened it, thoughts of the Keaton I loved as a teenager and the lying jackass who came back to town, wearing his body, wrapped around my brain in a cell killing choke hold.
He’d come back as the same smooth Keaton he’d always been. With pretty words and a more handsome face, and it seriously irritated the good behavior out of me that I had fallen for all of it again. I learned on the same slow curve as the guys who jumped off buildings with bicycles on YouTube. When my phone rang, I checked the caller ID. My mother’s number greeted me, and I ignored the call. One interlude with her a day exceeded my tolerance level, and I planned to attend her precious Sunday dinner. In my opinion, that met my requirements for daughterhood.
When I arrived at dinner more than an hour late, I didn’t bother knocking, and instead barged in the front door much as I had as a teenager. I jogged into the dining room and took a look around the table at the guests, then skidded to a stop, half in and half out of my shoes.
My mother sat in her usual spot to the right of the head of the table, Simon next to her, Keaton across from him, and Alex at the head spot. Alex stood when I entered and met me at the doorway. He took my hand in his, then kissed my cheek. Without dropping my hand, he led me to a chair between him and Keaton.
“Jocelyn, you have grown into a beautiful young woman.” I marveled at the changes a few missed calls from my mom brought. More than that, though, I couldn’t believe how happy it made me to see him.
Mom looked up at me, her eyes thin with disapproval while Simon ignored my presence and continued shoveling dinner into his face. I wouldn’t have spared a glance at Keaton if I could have helped it, but my eyes ignored the signals my angry brain sent. He looked amazing. His stark white shirt showed off every single ripple and muscle underneath. After a long drink, I told myself the thirst stemmed from my walk up the driveway.
I turned all my attention to Alex. The only one at the table I didn’t consider a traitor. “What are you doing here?”
Alex opened his mouth to answer, but in true Mom style, she over-talked him. “I invited him.” A mild reprimand laced her tone. “If you would have taken my call this morning, you would have known.”
I turned to Keaton. “What are you doing here?” The snap to my words came naturally with my anger.
Simon chimed
in. “I invited him.” He stuffed a huge bite of meatloaf into his mouth.
“And I wanted to see you.”
Keaton said it as though his soft-spoken words could dispel my anger. It aggravated me more than a little that I knew if he kept speaking so sweetly, I would end up in his lap before dessert was served.
He reached over to take my hand, but I jerked away, knocking my plate into my water glass with a loud clinking sound. I turned back to Alex, my happiness to see him clouded by a mist of anger at Keaton. He beamed at me. My mother radiated her happiness at him. Simon ignored my dirty looks in lieu of my portion of dinner, and Keaton quietly sat watching all of us.
“How have you been? Where have you been, and what have you been doing?” For all the questions I’d asked, I stayed away from anything more than what would create trivial small talk.
With a nod, he set his fork down and smiled. “Same old Jocelyn. A million miles a minute.” He chuckled. “I moved out to California for a while, now I live in Las Vegas. I’m here on business, and to see you all of course.”
I smiled. He’d always been such a charmer.
I found the salt and pepper gray of his coal black hair as comforting as his smile. His navy blue pinstriped suit fit with the same impeccable precision as when I knew him before. For once, when I walked in for dinner, warm feelings of home settled over me. As I grew older, I’d come to think of his smile as a beacon of white light, and thankfully that hadn’t changed either.
“Keaton said you two are trying to work things out.”
I shook my head and crossed my ankles to keep from kicking my ex-husband under the table. “Keaton was misinformed.”
“I could explain why I didn’t call yesterday.”
“I couldn’t care less,” I shot back, still smiling but not feeling it.
“That’s not what Lizette told me,” Simon said, forking more food between smiling lips.
“Well, wise guy, whatever she told you is wrong. I couldn’t possibly care any less why he didn’t call when he said he would. I’m used to being lied to by Keaton Shaw, and fortunately, I’m not stupid enough to expect more from him, so shut up.” My mother shot me a warning look at the exact same moment I glared at my brother. One more word out of Simon would seal his fate and earn him an epic butt kicking.
“She said you kept having her call your phone to make sure it was working.” Simon had the potential to become the first cop in history to be barred from a bakery.
Heat and color crept up my neck. “Shut up, Simon.” Alex hid a smirk behind his napkin.
A creepy little sense of deja vu snuck its way into my mind. This dinner reflected almost every meal we’d ever eaten with Alex and Keaton. Simon baited me. I behaved as any normal girl would--flipped him off, insulted him, or told him to shut up. My mother, of course, immediately jumped on Simon’s side of the fence. Typical dinner at Mom’s. Since eighth grade, anyway.
“Hey,” my mother interjected. “We do not say shut-up at the dinner table.”
Seriously? “Sorry,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Her power to ground me to my room faded long ago. Yet, she still possessed the super-human ability to guilt me into apologizing. I glared at Simon, ready to jump out of my chair and deliver a Hulk Hogan smackdown to my interfering brother.
“I can go on if you want. Or you could forgive him.” As I continued to shoot daggers at him with my eyes, he said, “And I can go pretty far back, too.”
I considered it for a moment. Some things remained better left in the past. “Fine. I forgive him.” I laced my tone with enough nasty that no one in the room could believe my sincerity.
“There was this one time, Mom was out of town and--”
Whoa. “Okay. Okay.” No good would ever come from hearing a story that started off with that particular phrase. “I do forgive you.” I grabbed him by the head and hauled him over for a kiss on his cheek for good measure, before turning back to my brother. “Happy now?”
Simon rewarded me with his smug smile. “Let me check.” He glanced up at Keaton. “Are we happy now?”
Keaton’s soft smile lit up his face. “Yeah. We’re good.”
I somehow survived dinner, during which time I learned Mom and Alex resumed their contact months earlier. She planned to leave on Thursday to vacation with him in Las Vegas. For his sake, not hers, I said a silent prayer that she didn’t bamboozle him into remarrying her. I also discovered that Simon had yet another date scheduled that night with my friend Lizette. It was fair, since I up and married his best buddy.
As I helped my mother clear the dishes, then serve dessert on the patio, Keaton’s eyes followed me. When I turned to look at him, actually feeling his gaze on my back, he smiled and another piece of ice chipped off my heart. I sat down, pressing my side closer than necessary to his on the glider swing.
“Do you want to see a movie tonight?” He wound a strand of my hair around his finger.
“I have to be at work by three in the morning to make donuts.” I looked pointedly at my brother.
Simon chuckled. “Sorry, dude. If it’s a question of who’s getting laid tonight, me or you, I’m gonna pick me every time.”
My mother frowned, but didn’t speak a single sound of reprimand. He could talk like that, but shut up at the dinner table defined conversational taboo? Some things never changed.
He sobered immediately, mommy’s little kiss ass.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“And who says Lizette is giving you any, anyway?” I smiled as mom’s frown deepened her worry lines. Something about this house, the perfect curtains, clean fresh smell, four forks beside my plate, brought out the little devil in me. “I have as many Simon stories as you have Jocelyn stories, and I bet I can change her mind about dating you.”
“Yeah? I doubt that. She thinks I’m a god.” He grinned. “Plus, it makes her hot that I get to carry a gun.”
He obviously hadn’t shot milk out of his nose around her. “You’re a pig, Simon,” I said.
He oinked his response while smiling and shoveling down his second piece of Mom’s chocolate cake. Alex smiled with longing at my mother. I badly wanted to stand up and yell for him to run, but I remained seated by Keaton, grinning like a fool. His hand wrapped gently around the nape of my neck, kneading gentle circles with his fingertips.
“You wanna get out of here?” I asked, lulled into a peaceful sense of being by his tender touch.
He nodded and gingerly stood, then straightened slowly as pain etched his face.
“You okay?”
He nodded, his smile faint. “I'm just achy. I must be coming down with something.”
“Do you want to go home?” I found myself holding my breath awaiting his answer.
As we walked around the side of the house, he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. “No. Not unless you are coming home with me.” He stopped, then leaned back against the stucco. “We could sneak you in like we did in high school.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
My arms crept slowly around his neck. “Or we could go to my apartment and not have to sneak anywhere.”
“Okay, but I have to wonder what happened to your sense of adventure. You’re kind of a drag now.”
I kissed the teasing off his lips. “You’re the one walking like you’re about to be put out to pasture. Besides, your mom will probably call the FBI if she catches me in your room.” I hadn’t been her favorite person. I believed on the day she got to kick me out of high school, she leaned back with a big bottle of pretentious wine and celebrated like a party girl. When she refused to attend our wedding, it almost destroyed Keaton, but in a weird way I understood. I never fit into the good daughter-in-law material category and imagined her absolute giddiness when my marriage dissolved.
Tugging his hand gently, I pulled him away from the wall, and we resumed walking to the driveway. “I’ll follow you there.” He deposited me in my front seat, then leaned down to touch his li
ps to mine. “You aren’t going to try to lose me in traffic, are you?”
“There are twenty-three streets in this town, total, and you’ve been to my house before. If I lose you, drive up and down each one until you see my car.”
Five minutes later, we arrived at my apartment away from the prying eyes of my twin brother, and the distraction, which purely summed up my mother. Keaton sat on the couch, while I stood behind the counter in the kitchen, needing the space to catch my breath. What had I been thinking to invite him back to my Keaton-free safe haven? From this moment on, the illusion of peace would be broken. He’d almost killed everything in me that loved him, and yet I swung the door open and invited him to kick off his shoes and make himself at home. When had I become doormat girl? Why couldn’t I stay away from this guy?
He declined the drink I offered, and for the first time in our history, I had no words, no smart comment for Keaton, nothing. I looked everywhere but at him until his soft voice broke all the tension between us.
“Will you come sit by me?” He patted the cushion next to him.
I walked around the bar slowly, as though being led to the gallows rather than strolling into my own living room to sit by a man who looked like a Burberry model.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded, his nearness robbing my pathetic brain of the ability to form a complete thought. He paused for such a long time that I thought he might have changed his mind.
“Why didn’t you let me explain about the bar that night?”
I squashed my instinct to be flip and hide from him how he destroyed the part of me that loved him, then peered straight into his gaze. The sincerity of his question reflected in his eyes, darkening the green of his irises. “When we got married, you promised to protect my heart and never let it get hurt. Don’t get me wrong. I know Danielle. We’ve hated each other since kindergarten, so I knew it probably wasn’t as much your fault as I made it out to be. But she hadn’t promised to love and cherish me. And I couldn’t care less who she made out with as long as she kept her lips off of you. I did care who you made out with and wanted to put giant orange cones around you with barbed wire to make sure everyone knew you belonged to me. They couldn’t have you.” I swallowed hard, the memory of the pain almost as atrocious as the pain itself. “I knew you loved me, and I loved you back, but history said I would eventually do or say something to make you walk away from me. I mean, look at what my mom did to Alex. It was just a matter of time. Then, when I walked in and you were kissing her, it wrecked me. I had to walk away because I knew I’d never survive it a second time.” I looked into his eyes. “Maybe I should’ve let you explain, but I didn’t want to hear you say I wasn’t enough.”
Here He Comes Again Page 7