My palms broke out in a sweat while my mouth went dry and my throat closed almost completely. I poked a finger in my ear and wiggled it around. I had to be hearing things incorrectly, or the fever caused him some delirium. “What? Marry you?”
“Yes. Marry me.”
He’d lost his I’m teasing the hell out of you grin. A sincere smile formed on his tempting lips.
“We were good together. So good it literally broke something inside of me when we broke up.” Emotion clouded his clear green eyes as he squeezed the feeling from my fingers.
Fear gripped my soul. First the bloody nose, then the sickness, and now he’d been back maybe a week and proposed marriage. “Are you dying, Keaton?”
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to one side.
I plowed on, hoping I could out-talk the trepidation tickling my spine. “If you are, just tell me now. I can handle it. I’ll help you through it. Stay beside you every minute. I promise.”
His look remained.
I had no more words to use or promises to make. I sighed and whispered, “Just tell me.”
“I’m not dying.” A sweetness softened his gaze and lowered his voice.
This was the Keaton I remembered from our time together, and I missed him. The crazy one suggesting marriage? Not so much.
I yanked my hands free and jumped to my feet, knocking him back on his butt. “Then, are you out of your freaking mind? We were terrible together. We fought all the time.”
“That’s called passion.” His voice exuded such confidence I almost found myself buying into the whole thing. Then it struck me how ridiculous this all sounded. I wanted sex, and he wanted to walk me back down the aisle. Communication issues didn’t begin to describe our problems.
“It’s called anger!” Now I started pacing and finger-combing my hair as though a family of angry birds had set up shop in my follicles.
“What did we fight over? Do you remember? Because I don’t. It wasn’t money, or sex, or any of the big stuff.” He pulled his knees up, resting his wrists on them as I continued my back and forth trek across the apartment.
I whirled to face him, blood pounding in my ears. “People who belong together do not fight over nothing. And we did. If we can’t even remember why we fought, doesn’t that say something about our relationship?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the absurdity of this. He had obviously taken a sanity break for a swim over to Fantasy Island.
“Maybe, Joss, but doesn’t it say more that every time we fought, we made up, stayed together, and fought for each other. We didn’t give up on us.”
“But then we did.” The words, along with the sad realization behind them, forced a lump into my throat, which made speaking difficult.
“No, I never gave up on us. You gave up.”
I tilted my head and cocked an eyebrow before pointing a finger at him, ready to battle, but he continued quickly.
“Because I hurt you and I know it. But you have to know, I meant it when I said I would love you for the rest of my life. I never meant for you to get hurt. If I could take that night back, I would have stayed home with you, and Danielle would have never been able to kiss me.”
He reached for me, and I jerked away hard.
“Please, don’t say no until you think about it. Think about all the good times. Okay. Some of the fights lasted a while, but so did the loving. It made a balance, Jocelyn, and without you, without us together, everything is off center.”
Having worn myself out, I sat on the floor facing him. “Keaton, it’s been three years. We’ve both changed. We don’t know each other anymore.”
He grinned. “You still like pizza?”
I nodded, knowing the exact course his thoughts took but unable to stop him. Perhaps, I didn’t want to stop him. “Yes.”
“You still hate watching the news?”
I nodded.
“And that sweet spot on your neck under your ear still gets your motor running?”
“Yes.” I wished he would lower his head and show my spot some love.
“That’s all I ever needed to know.”
“What about all that favorite color and favorite song talk?” I sputtered the words, grasping at anything that would ground me in reality.
“Those are bonuses, but Joss, I know you. We know each other.” He ran a finger down my cheek. “We belong together.”
His voice may have been a hormone-mesmerizing purr, but his brain had to be as ill as his body. I visualized a straightjacket as his future wardrobe.
“I’m not going to marry you, Keaton.” Yet, my voice lacked conviction. Whether my reaction stemmed from the effects of his behavior or his body, I sat back trying to process how we would be as a couple since we’d grown older, smarter, and more settled. It may have only been three years, but time crawled since he held me, loved me, and filled my every dream. Every moment stretched into the next slowly as though minutes took days and days took years.
His grin flashed his dimples and blinded me with shiny white teeth. “You will.”
“I most certainly will not.” Though the thought of being his wife bloomed inexplicable happiness in my stomach.
“You will.” With a wink, he jumped to his feet. He reached a hand down to pull me into his arms.
“Whatever, Keaton.” I pulled away from him, then flipped my hair over my shoulder as I strode to the kitchen, needing some distance between us. “You want some soup?”
I could feel his gaze on my back and took a quick, deep breath.
“Soup, I guess we can start there.”
I scooped vegetables and broth into two bowls, and carried them back to the counter. He finished one bowl and ladeled a second helping before I’d taken a single bite. I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He’d asked me to marry him, and while it was nice to be wanted, he definitely needed to work out some timing issues. Again.
Chapter 12
Past November - Age 19
Keaton and I lazed away a glorious summer together despite his mother’s obvious objections and the demanding schedule Mary Elizabeth gave me at work. We spent our available hours talking, kissing, and believing that nothing could ever separate us from each other. By August, when he packed for school, I'd convinced myself we could survive four years apart. A month later, without so much as a phone call, my perspective changed a bit. By then, I believed he had used me as a last fling before heading off to become a co-ed ogling frat boy.
Every night I dreamed of Keaton, missed his arms wrapping around me. I wanted to lay on a blanket under the stars with him in our special cove by the lake. The ache inside grew with each passing day. By October, with still no word from him, I moved on to Billy Conner. Billy, a half-brained, pretty boy with smooth pick-up lines and four sisters each planning weddings over the next year, tagged along for every cake tasting and brain-storming session. By the fourth sister, we started sneaking away after work to make-out by the lake.
Billy would never be one of the great loves of my life, but he passed the time nicely and kept me way too busy to think of Keaton. He turned twenty in October and aspired to nothing more than being mine. He didn’t care to go anywhere unless I went with him. College meant more work, and Billy strived to avoid any form of labor. Despite the fact that Mom and Simon hated him, I invited him to Thanksgiving dinner.
Standing in our kitchen, decorating dessert for the annual Thanksgiving feast, I sculpted a cake designed to look like a flower arrangement, which would serve as our table’s centerpiece. I soaked up every detail Mary Elizabeth spoke and became an accomplished cake decorator under her tutelage. We could make and decorate twice as many cakes as before because I could do much more on my own. This, however, was my first solo foray into sculpting an intricate design of my own.
Simon strolled in with Keaton following close behind. He popped open the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda, tossing one behind his back to his friend. Great. Simon could forgive him for not
calling him, but I couldn’t.
Keaton snatched the can out of the air and set it on the counter. He grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around, and kissed me as though we hadn’t seen each other in months.
Which we hadn’t.
“Hello, beautiful.”
He gazed down into my eyes, and my anger almost dissipated. Almost.
“I missed you.” He laid another kiss on me.
I dropped my hands to my side, mentally begged my body not to respond, then summoned my remaining bits of disenchanted willpower to tear my lips away from his. Pushing hard against his chest, I left two bright yellow handprints on his gray shirt. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Kissing my girlfriend.” His head snapped back as his eyes widened. Shock laced his too loud tone.
I turned back to my cake, willing my hands to stop their damned shaking. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
“Since when?” He reached out to take my elbow in his palm and I jerked away. “Did you plan on telling me?” His eyes flashed greener and his face reddened.
I, on the other hand, characterized the epitome of calm, except for the rapid heartbeat, shallow breathing, and uncontrollably shaking hands. “Well, if you bothered to call me even one time in the last three months, I might have shared some information.” I stabbed the cake with a knife, lopping off a petal from the largest flower. “But you didn’t call, so I moved on.” I threw in a nonchalant shrug to show him I couldn’t care less, except I did care. A lot.
Simon chuckled, then tried to cover it with a cough. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“No, Simon, you don’t have to go. Keaton and I have no reason to be alone. We have nothing to talk about.”
Keaton’s anger vibrated the air around me.
“Fine, Jocelyn. That’s just fine.” He stalked out of the kitchen.
Simon put a hand on my shoulder. “I wish you hadn’t done that. I invited him for dinner tomorrow.”
“He has a family, Simon. He can damn well eat with them.” First Tim. Then Danielle. Now Keaton, too? For God’s sake. How much could a girl put up with?
“He didn’t come home to be with them.” Simon's voice hardened. “Besides, they have some charity fund-raising thing for the school.” He leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms and his ankles, and stared at me. “You could try to be cool. He’s my best friend.”
“And I’m your sister, and he hurt me.” My heart skipped a beat, or another piece broke off. I had a hard time telling the difference these days.
“Yeah, well, you have the grease ball to kiss it better, don’t ya? He’s gonna be alone for Thanksgiving, Joss. Have a heart.” He tilted his head and batted his eyes. “For me. Don’t be mean to him. Okay?”
“Whatever, Simon.”
He put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s one dinner, right? You can be nice for one dinner. Probably.” He grinned and squeezed me tighter. “You’re the best sister in the whole world.”
“You’re a traitor.” But I loved him anyway.
“One dinner, Joss, I promise.”
I nodded. He kissed the top of my head and strolled out leaving me to my ruined flower.
This dinner promised to be one for the Springer show’s highlight reel--Keaton, Billy, and perv step-dad all at the same table. Thank God Danielle had her own family dinner and didn’t plan to arrive until later, cutting my time with her short.
I spent an extra hour on my hair, curling it into soft spirals, which framed my face and cascaded down my back. My new caramel colored boots matched the corset belt of a pastel floral dress that my mother bought for me. I added a soft touch of makeup before flying down the stairs to answer the ringing doorbell. Expecting Billy, I pasted on a bright smile and swung the door open.
Keaton stood on the porch, looking good enough to crawl up on the table and be dinner. I gulped, then pulled it together, telling myself I didn’t care that Keaton, dressed in all black, conveyed every aspect and element of gorgeous. “Oh. It’s you.” The tone didn’t match the words. I sounded breathless and anxious.
“And you were hoping for someone else?” He stepped past me, a smug smile on his lips.
I cleared my throat, hoping my symptoms resulted from a bout of laryngitis rather than any reaction to Keaton. “Actually, yes. I’m waiting for Billy.”
His arrogant ass stopped in his tracks. “Billy?”
“That’s right.” I sing-songed my reply. “Billy. My boyfriend. Who didn’t ignore me for the last three months.” Billy, who would undoubtedly arrive in jeans torn at the knees, a T-shirt advertising beer, and whatever do-rag he salvaged from his dirty laundry basket. He took grunge wear to a whole new level.
A glimmer of pure evil sparkled in Keaton’s eye. “Humph. I cannot wait to meet him.”
“Keaton, I swear to God.” As far as threats went, mine would qualify as a top ten contestant for the emptiness award.
Simon bounded down the stairs. “Hey,” he said, slapping Keaton on the shoulder. “Mom said we have about an hour before dinner.” He turned to me. “She wants you to set the table.”
What did they do? Communicate by phone from the kitchen to his room upstairs? Oh well, it provided my excuse to escape Keaton.
I flounced out of the foyer with an extra sway to my hips and a devil smile of my own. As I placed the last piece of silverware on the table, Tim slithered into the formal dining room intent on invading my personal space.
He squeezed my shoulder. “You look pretty today.”
His breath stank of yesterday’s wine. Seriously. What mouthwash could do for this man…. He looked down at my low-cut top and bile rose in my throat. “Thanks. You look hung over today.”
“Aw, now, Jossy, there is no reason to be nasty. I’m trying to be nice.” His thumb moved forward to caress my collarbone.
I grabbed the knife Simon would use later to carve the turkey and whirled around. “Listen, you pig. I don’t know what my mom sees in you. You’re disgusting, and I cannot wait for the minute she boots you out on your ass.” I enunciated each word carefully and spoke slowly so he could in no way misinterpret my words. “I think I’ll even have one of my little heart-to-hearts with her and make her see what a piece of crap you are.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why not?” His veiled threats didn’t frighten me, but the leer on his face had the little hairs at the back of my neck standing on end.
He advanced a step closer, and I barely resisted the urge to back away. “I would hate to have to tell your mom how you’ve been sneaking your little boyfriend in at night.” He tapped his chin. “I don’t think even your pretty little brother would be able to calm her down if she found out you’re the gutter whore we both know you are.”
I stepped closer. “How easy do you think it’ll be to tell her if I cut out your lying tongue?” I may not have been an angel, but this time, innocence and I struck up a friendship. Billy came over after dinner and left before bedtime. I hadn’t slept with anyone since Keaton, and Billy never even came close.
Without another word, he walked out of the dining room and into the kitchen to encircle my mom in a boob-grabbing hug. Ick. She shoved against him, then looked up to his face, speaking to him in a tone of voice she usually reserved for me. They fought a lot more these days. A bright smile turned my lips heavenward. I prayed Mom would put an end to the madness soon.
One minute after my mother herded us all into our seats, the doorbell rang. Simon stood and began chopping the turkey into unrecognizable bits while Mom praised him for his good work, and Tim glowered and sucked down another glass of wine to her left. I swallowed a gag and ran to answer the door myself.
By the time Billy and I returned, my mother sat frowning, furiously stirring potatoes that didn’t need to be stirred. Billy leaned down to kiss her cheek, and swayed his hand, just missing the potatoes as he reached to steady himself. My mother’s eyebrows rose high o
n her forehead, and her disapproval floated around the table in angry whooshes of her breath.
“Nice.” Keaton’s gravelly tone mirrored my mother’s attitude.
“Let’s serve up some of that beautiful bird, Simple Simon.” Billy’s words slurred, and he tossed a plate at my brother--my mother’s good china.
I snatched it from midair, then put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, trying to save my boyfriend from becoming the lead news story at eleven. My mother, in her infinite wisdom, seated me between Billy and Tim. As soon as I sat, Billy turned to face me.
“You look hot!”
His breath assaulted my sense of smell and I grimaced. He reached for me, and I pulled away, but he’d grabbed the collar of my dress, exposing my Victoria's Secret undergarments for all my family and Keaton to see.
Heat rose to my face as I quickly adjusted my neckline. “Thanks, Billy.”
My mother stared daggers at me. Simon glared at Billy. Tim’s eyes remained focused on my cleavage. Keaton sat glowering at my side of the table, and I took deep breaths trying not to hyperventilate.
Simon slapped the knife down onto the table as Billy’s alcohol buzz turned into alcohol nausea. He spewed all over the table, my dress, and most of our dinner, including my beautiful cake.
Simon sprung around the table, grabbed a fistful of Billy’s shirt, and hauled him to the door. “If you ever come near my sister again, I’ll kill you, you little piece of--”
“Simon.” His name rolled from her lips in such a stern tone everyone stopped their motion to look at her. Mom braced her hands on the table and lifted her body from the chair; she straightened her back and raised her head. “Simon, Tim’s going to take Billy home.” She looked up at our future ex-stepfather and said, “And you”--she joined Simon and Billy at the door, then stabbed a finger into his chest--“can pick up your shit tomorrow. It’ll be on the lawn. I’d try to be early. Garbage pickup is at seven.” She smiled as she slammed the door shut. “Hope he makes it before they get here.” Mom took in the sight of me with sad eyes. “You invited a drunk to dinner.”
Here He Comes Again Page 10