Meet Me on Love Lane

by Nina Bocci

  “Wait,” I begged, and his hands froze immediately. In a flash they were on either side of his legs, lying flat on the couch.

  I looked down at him. There wasn’t a shred of disappointment, but his eyes were filled with worry. Slipping off his lap, I stood before him. His chest was heaving, his eyes straight ahead, not looking at me.

  I kicked off my flip-flops, and his eyes followed them as they sailed across the room.

  I placed my index finger under his chin, forcing his eyes up. My hands gripped the hem of my shirt and in one swift movement, I whipped the top from my body. The thin bra I wore was next. His hands balled into fists but remained on the couch.

  “Help,” I said, inching closer to him. Standing between his legs, I waited.

  Tentatively, his hands came up and rested on the waistband of my shorts. With a quick pop, he undid the button, then the zipper, and let them fall to the floor, where I kicked them off.

  “Fuck,” he hissed.

  I hooked my fingers under the panties, shimmying them down until they were in a pile with the shorts.

  Henry was breathing as heavily as he had been when I knocked on the door. He sat up but didn’t reach for me as I thought he would. Instead, he left his arms resting on his knees, and his head fell forward to lean against my chest.

  I touched him, rubbing his head gently. He placed his hands on my calves, lightly at first. Then he slid his hands up the back of my legs, over my rear, until they settled on my waist, his thumbs stroking my skin.

  It was absurdly hot in the room at this point. The breeze was coming through the window and the fan was overhead, but it still felt like we were in the center of a lit kiln.

  Slowly, I pushed him until his bare back was against the leather. He was sweating, but there wasn’t anything I wanted more than to touch him.

  “Stay here,” I whispered, turning to face the window, so my back faced him.

  I heard Henry whimper, and I felt another surge of need barrel through me. I took a step backward and sat in his lap, straddling my legs over both of his with my bottom pushed against him. With my back against his chest, I sought out his hands and placed them over me. Not on me but over me, hovering until he took the leap and placed them wherever he wanted.

  We were breathing so hard that it was audible in the otherwise quiet room. No cars drove by. The television next door wasn’t on, leaving only the two of us and our sounds filling the room. The streetlights streamed in through the thin, gauzy curtains.

  I watched his hands flutter before one rested on my rib cage and the other sat slick on my upper thigh. Leaning back, I rested my head on his shoulder.

  “Henry,” I breathed, and he snapped.

  In one swoop, he stood. With a quick spin, he lifted, holding me with his arm a firm band around my back. His breath was hot in my ear as he moved toward the stairs and climbed effortlessly. Once upstairs, he tore down the hall and into the last room at the end of the hall.

  “Change your mind?” he asked, kicking the door closed behind him.

  “Not a chance,” I said, sliding my hands up to his hair.

  His lips found my skin again, this time traversing from my ear down my neck, across my shoulder. Turning me in his arms, he held my head gently in his hands and kissed me. Once, twice, and then a third time before walking forward. I matched his steps back until my legs hit the edge of his bed.

  I sat, and my hands immediately found the string on his gym shorts. Untying them proved difficult with shaking hands, but I managed. Sliding them down, I bit back a moan. He kicked them off and walked around the bed to the small end table where he pulled out a condom. Slipping it on, he crawled onto the bed to lie beside me.

  “Let me,” I begged, and his hands fell away as I climbed up and over until he was set inside.

  As I moved over him, my mind was racing with hundreds of things to say, but I couldn’t formulate them even if I had wanted to. On my lips were his, no words spoken, until we both collapsed on the bed, sated and exhausted.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered into the darkness, stroking my hair as I curled up onto his chest.

  Before I fell asleep wrapped in his arms, I smiled thinking that everything I swore wouldn’t happen, did. I was happy, I was content, and I was loved.

  All of which happened in Hope Lake.

  19

  A week after my night with Henry, I was desperate to see him again. To talk, among other things. He picked me up every night and we took the long way back to Gigi’s. It may or may not have included time on Love Lane. But we needed to have a serious discussion. I think we were both purposefully avoiding it, instead staying in this blissful bubble that we existed in with no need to talk about the future.

  “Thank you for calling Late Bloomers, can you hold, please?” Nellie rambled into the phone. When it rang again, she dropped the pencil that had previously been clutched in her hand and cursed quietly.

  “Give me the phone. You run to the back and get the delivery. I think you need five minutes of fresh air with the cute driver,” I said, taking the phone from her. She smiled at me gratefully and ran through the back door before I was able to say hello to the caller. She’d been a great addition to the shop in just the past week.

  It had been hectic all day. With the Fourth of July festival tomorrow, I had limited time to get everything that needed to be done, done.

  Henry had dropped me off with a searing kiss against the back door that proved to be difficult to walk away from, but knowing the size of my to-do list, I begrudgingly did so with a promise to see him again later if I didn’t fall asleep on the way home.

  The doorbell dinged, and Max walked in, looking a little worse for the wear. I held up a finger and turned so he’d see the phone wedged between my face and my shoulder. After I was finished with the order, I turned and smiled, albeit awkwardly.

  “Hey.” I was a dazzling wordsmith.

  “Hey.” Apparently, he was, too.

  I smiled again, but even I could tell it looked forced. It was forced. Not that there was anything wrong with him, at all. He just wasn’t right for me.

  “I should have done this sooner,” he said, giving no preamble or indication of what he meant. “I thought maybe we could work things out, but then I dropped into the shop last week and you and Henry were, well, occupied.”

  My eyes widened. “You were the one who came in and then were gone by the time I came out from the back.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt, and I certainly wasn’t about to stay out here and listen in, since it looked pretty—we’ll say heated,” he said with a grimace.

  My face flamed. I would be embarrassed if anyone saw it, let alone Max. I handled this horribly and felt horrible. “Max, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he chuckled. “I can literally see how happy you are. Your eyes are still sparkling even though you look like a deer in the headlights right now. Your skin is glowing, and honestly, you look like a woman in love. Just not with me.”

  I blew out a long breath. One that I felt like I had held in for a month. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Really, it’s okay. I’ve known for a while. That’s what I meant by ‘I should have done this sooner.’ It’s just been a bit crazy. For the both of us.”

  I came around the desk, stopping to stand by his side. “Under any other circumstances, I would be crazy to not fall for a guy like you.”

  He smiled, patting me on the shoulder. “It’s really okay.”

  I bumped into his shoulder. “I certainly didn’t know it. It’s crazy how it took coming back here to awaken a lot of memories that I thought I’d lost forever.”

  The door dinged again, Emma flying through it with her phone up to her ear.

  Max looked back to me and smiled. “Good luck. I’ll see you around.”

  As he left, he waved to Emma, who looked frazzled. “What was Dr. Max up to?” she asked, watching him stride over to Viola’s. That man sure did
love his ice cream.

  “Nothing. We decided that we’re better off as friends,” I said honestly.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” she said, distracted by the stack of slips piled on the countertop. “That looks laborious.”

  I let out another deep sigh. “You’re not wrong, but it’s good. Really good. Nellie is coming along, and she’s got a friend she’s going to bring to interview. I think between the three of us, we’ll get it all under control in no time.”

  Emma nodded and wandered around the shop silently. But I could tell that there was a ton that she was dying to say.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, just say it!” I shouted, walking to stand near her at the front window.

  “I think you should stay,” she said, raising her hand to stop me from answering. “Just give me a second to state my case.”

  “Emma, you don’t need to.”

  She looked dejected, clearly taking my words wrong. “Listen, I know I haven’t been convincing enough, but I think you should give me the chance to convince you.”

  “Really, you don’t have to. I mean, it’s something I’m thinking about. I’ve been for a while, actually, but I didn’t let myself get too far into really considering it.”

  She smiled. “And you are now?”

  “I came to a realization that maybe New York isn’t my home, at least not in the literal way I’ve been thinking. My mom was what kept me there and made it home. With her gone, Parker sort of inadvertently filled that role. Everything I love about the city is tied back to either one of them. I’m a literal case of home is where the heart is.”

  “So you’re saying … ?” Emma lobbed, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m saying, maybe even though Parker is there, more of my heart is here.”

  Emma squealed and launched herself at me.

  “I have a lot to think about,” I squeezed out with difficulty. She gave a good hug. “A lot to figure out, and while it’s a simple solution in theory—stay with Gigi, work here until I figure out how to buy it—I need a plan. While flying by the seat of my pants worked out in my last-minute decision to come here, I don’t want to just wing it when it comes to staying.”

  “I promise, I’m not getting too excited.”

  “And yet, you’re vibrating.”

  “That’s my phone.”

  “You lie like a rug, Peroni.”

  We parted, but her smile remained. “Reel it in, sister. Put your game face on. No one else is to know about this. I haven’t even talked to Henry—I mean my dad—yet.”

  Her eyes grew wide as dahlias in July. “I won’t say a thing, but Jesus, you have a lot to fill me in on. Though, judging by the neck burn and glowing skin, I can work that out myself.”

  With a wink, and a cackled “Toodles,” she breezed out the door, promising to see me bright and early tomorrow for setup.

  As Emma left, Nellie came back from taking in the delivery with a smile on her face. “I take it your chat with the driver was a good one?”

  Nellie shook her head. “Oh yeah, he’s nice. But I’m more interested in the guy who helps out over at Viola’s. Know him?”

  “No. We can ask Henry, though,” I said as the bell chimed again.

  The place was like Grand Central today. Thank goodness it was nearly time to close.

  I turned, smiling when I saw who came to visit. “Dad, what brings you here?”

  Coming around the table, I let him pull me into a hug. “I was going to run over to the dry cleaner and I thought I’d see if you needed a ride back home,” he said hopefully. “Give us some time to chat.”

  “You read my mind,” I said, glancing up at the clock. “Can you give us ten minutes to finish up?”

  He waved to Nellie. “Of course. I’ll grab my stuff from over there and come back. Take your time.”

  As he left, he flipped the antique sign to CLOSED and Nellie set the locks. “You can head out now. I’ll finish this up. See you tomorrow.”

  By the time Dad came back, I was waiting in the alley and ever so grateful for the ride.

  None of what had happened so far today was on my to-do list, and yet checking it off felt really good.

  Uncomfortable conversation with Max, which turned out to be fine.

  Have a come-to-Jesus with myself about staying in Hope Lake—Still working on the outcome.

  Dad and Gigi finding out she has a perma-roommate. I think that’ll be fine.

  Conversation with Henry. This one I’m looking forward to.

  None was work-related, and yet all had to be dealt with before I made my final decision.

  “So, before I dive in. What did you want to talk about?” I asked, buckling my seat belt.

  He stared out of the window, focused on a spot on the cracked stone wall where our deliveries came in. His lips curled in, and I wondered whether he was listening or zoned out.

  “Dad?” I said again, touching his shoulder lightly.

  He smiled and glanced down for a moment. When he looked over, his eyes were glassy. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment about your mother. If that is all right with you.”

  Did I want to talk about her? No, but I knew I had to.

  He must have taken my pause as a no. “If you’re not okay with bringing her up, we can wait. I want to make sure that you’re able to get through this. I know we haven’t had ample time to discuss … everything, but I can wait. I’ve waited twenty years, I can wait a couple more days.”

  I touched his arm. “Grateful as I am, I’d rather have the conversation than avoid it any longer.” If my therapist could hear me now.

  Swallowing hard, I was trying to quell the surprise that I was feeling that he even brought her up. After what was revealed the other night, with her hiding Henry’s letters from me, I really thought none of us would bring her up for fear of what it would evoke in the other. But by the same token, with her gone, no one would be able to answer all the burning questions that I still had. Maybe he could at least shed some light on a couple of things.

  “What exactly are we discussing?” I asked tentatively, not wanting to upset him more than he clearly already was.

  Dad pulled out of the alley behind the building and took a slow ride out toward Gigi’s. “I need you to know some important details first, before we get into everything else. I had no idea that Henry was writing to you after you and your mom left. I certainly didn’t know that Rose sent those boxes to Gigi, either. We never spoke after you left, unless it was through family court, and even then, anything regarding you went through the lawyers. She wouldn’t answer my calls, and after you got older, I gave up trying to communicate with her and went directly to you. Gigi tried, too, of course, but your mother refused to have contact with any of us. I honestly believe if it weren’t for the judge and lawyers, we wouldn’t have had contact with you at all.”

  I could tell he was getting angry by the way his voice shook when he spoke. Anytime he visited me in New York, he never, ever spoke an unkind word about my mother. Even now, he wasn’t, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to sugarcoat things, either.

  There was still something that no amount of therapy—whether medical or of the Hope Lake variety—would ever answer for me.

  “Why did my mother act the way she did my whole life? The hate, the pure and illogical contempt she felt toward everything?” I said, watching as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I thought the note she wrote to Gigi would have given me some clue, but it was so generic. Why couldn’t there have been more sentences. Something to give me a sense of closure? I could continue to let it eat away at me, ruining my own life like she had hers, or, I could try and accept the fact that I would never know and perhaps move on.”

  “I can’t answer that, Charlotte. She wasn’t like that when I met her. She had a light about her and then she didn’t. I think about it all the time. What happened? What did I do to make her spark go out? What made her so monumentally unhappy?”

  I to
ok his hand, resting them both on the stick shift. “Being a person who lived with her longer than anyone else, I don’t think it was you. I don’t even think it was me. I think she just needed to speak with someone and never did. Get some help. I have so much guilt that I didn’t see that she needed to talk to someone before it was too late, and then she was too far gone in her misery to pull herself back out. Maybe she didn’t have the opportunity when she was younger, or she refused treatment. Again, we’ll never know. Once she was diagnosed with cancer, she let that eat away at her, too. Refusing treatment, skipping appointments. It was like she welcomed it.

  “I’m to the point now where I mostly feel badly for her. I have so many questions that will never be answered. I just wish I knew why she did what she did. Why she gave up on everything instead of reaching for the lifeboat.

  “I will say that you seeing a therapist was the best thing that you could have done. I probably should have done that. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so much contempt for the years I lost to her. And the guilt. Maybe I would be able to let that go, too.”

  “Guilt? What do you have to be guilty about?” I asked, stunned at his confession.

  “So much. I loved the travel, the mission trips. The adventure. Yes, I was locked into some of the trips contractually, but I could have found a way out. I should have, and it still eats away at me that I didn’t end it all just so I could get you to stay here.”

  “Dad,” I admonished gently. “Let’s say you did. You gave up everything. All the good that you’ve done around the world. You still might not have been guaranteed custody! We can’t look at the past with regret. We can’t. It’ll just eat away at us.” I stopped to take a breath.

  “It’s not too late to see someone, Dad. I’m not ashamed of the need I have for therapy. Talking to my doctors over the years made me who I am today. A person mostly capable of dealing with her feelings, which is still a work in progress but I’m getting better. I’m someone who is genuinely looking forward to what the future holds.”