by Becca Barnes
Uh, yeah. He had no idea how different.
“Sorry to unload on you,” said Nate. “I know you don’t know her that well.”
“No. I’ve gotten to know her. I’d be worried, too, if she was mine...my sister, I mean.”
“Yeah. Well, thanks for listening to me vent.” He put down the axe and picked up the chainsaw. He pointed at a tree on the edge of the clearing. “That one?”
“No. I’m keeping that grove.” Where Tori’s hammock had hung next to mine only a few days before. Where I hoped to hang those same hammocks in the coming months and years and enjoy long, lazy Sunday afternoon naps in them with our daughter. It would border the side yard, across the way from the wrap-around front porch on our house. I could see it all in my mind.
Now, I only needed to build the house. And convince the woman to marry me.
Two dates. I had two more dates left to get Tori to catch my vision of the future. Our future.
It would be a step down from her penthouse, I knew. But more practical for our child. More of a home.
Of course, I’d be okay with staying in the city if she really wanted to. I doubted she would, though. Tori put on a polished front, but she was a country girl at heart. I could see it in the way her body language relaxed when she got out of the crazy bustle of downtown. It didn’t surprise me one bit that she had fled to the cabin so she could have the time and space she needed to get used to the idea of a baby.
“It’s a beautiful piece of land,” said Nate. “And you got it for a steal.”
“Thanks. Although, we both know the only reason I got such a good deal on it was my connection to you.”
Nate grunted. “Whatever.”
I let him brush it off, but it was true. Nate had been in the middle of negotiating a huge land development deal in south Atlanta with the same company that owned this land. I mentioned in passing that I was interested in it.
Next thing I knew, I was buying twenty acres for a song.
“It’ll be awhile before I can build on it, though,” I said. “I’ll do a lot of the work myself, but I’ll still need a mortgage to buy the materials and to hire subcontractors for some of the labor.”
I was still building my credit rating after it had bottomed out with the bankruptcy. And I wanted to pay for as much of it with cash as possible anyway.
“You’re not getting a mortgage.” Nate rolled his eyes and shook his head as he wiped a stream of sweat onto the back of his sleeve. “I’ll give you the money.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Oh, by all means.” Nate jerked the chainsaw’s starter and then shouted over the roar. “I’d love to see you try to stop me.”
Give it a few months, I wanted to say. Or a few weeks. It was still bizarre to me that no one else could see the breathtaking differences in Tori’s body.
But weeks or months, I was pretty sure all Nate would want to give me then was a split lip.
Nate killed the saw and sat down on the fallen tree.
“When are you going to stop punishing yourself, man?” he said.
“What are you talking about?” I turned my back to him and started on a new stack of firewood.
“It’s been almost four years. And it was a bankruptcy. It’s not like you murdered someone or robbed a bank. You were helping your family by taking on all that debt. I would have done the same.”
He wouldn’t have had to have done the same. Not with his billions.
Even at the time, four years ago, I knew he would have given me the money without a question, but I had refused to ask. I had my pride. And now I had a bankruptcy on my record. When Dad got to the point where he was in hospice, I’d had no choice but to take a leave of absence at my former job. When corporate announced a round of layoffs, I was an obvious choice to cut. I wasn’t even there to defend myself.
I spent the next several months stewing in grief over my father and my broken engagement, all while going to job interview after job interview. It was always the same. Great skills match. Great references. Great interview.
Then they’d pull my credit report and crickets.
I’d been getting desperate when Nate called. His land manager had retired, and he was looking for someone he could trust. I explained about the bankruptcy first thing.
“Hired,” he’d said without so much as a pause. And he paid me well over what I’d been making before.
I owed the man so much.
I propped one of the thicker logs on its end like a stool next to Nate and sat on it.
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I appreciate everything. I really do. But building this house is something I need to do for myself.”
“Yeah.” Nate let out a snort of laughter as he propped his foot on the chainsaw. “I noticed you’ll still use me for free labor, though.”
“Absolutely.” I clapped him on the back.
My phone dinged in my pocket, and I pulled it out. Tori’s name was entered into my phone as simply, “T.”
I decided what I want to do for our next date, she wrote.
I gulped and put the phone away, but not quickly enough. Not before Nate caught a glance of what it said.
“Date?” he said. “You seeing someone?”
Hoo boy.
“It’s a friend...thing,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, I’d like it be more, but it’s complicated.”
“Ahh.” Nate opened his water bottle and took a swig. “And yet you had the architect design a four-bedroom house.”
“Uhhh,” I said slowly. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Well, glad to see that you’re not ready to move into the monastery just yet, Saint Jake.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”
“Yeah, well, if it goes somewhere, believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”
Or the last.
Eighteen
Tori
Ahh.
There was nothing like being in my natural habitat to bring about a sense of peace and serenity.
“Ooh! There’s a spot,” said Jake, pointing to an open parking space that was three away from the back row.
“Amateur hour,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. I just think that we might find a closer spot over by the entrance next to Build-A-Bear.”
“Build-A-Bear?” He raised his eyebrows. “I would have thought you were more of a Prada kind of gal.”
“As are all the other shoppers who come to this mall. Hence, we are going to go park by Build-A-Bear.”
“Nice use of the word, ‘hence.’”
“Thank you. And nice use of the word, ‘Prada.’ I’m impressed.”
“I don’t actually have any idea what they sell.”
“I figured.”
“You know, we could just valet park,” he said.
“At the mall? Even I have my limits.”
I swung my Porsche Cayenne into an open parking spot right near the front near the stuffed animal store, just like I knew there would be. “You ready?”
I tightened my messy ponytail and shimmied the waistband of my spandex capri exercise pants under my belly. They’d started to leave an elastic imprint on my stomach. I wouldn’t be able to get away with squeezing into even my loosest clothes much longer. First stop, a maternity store where I could go on a shopping spree.
Actually, first stop, bathroom.
As we passed Build-A-Bear, Jake paused and stared at one of the stuffed animals in the window, a fluffy white bear wearing a pink tutu.
“You want to buy that for her, don’t you?” I said.
“Yup,” he said.
“You heard the doctor. It could be a boy.”
“Boys can like ballet. And pink.” He ushered me into the store. “But it’s a girl.”
“Dr. Layman said she could be wrong,” I said.
“My gut says she isn’t. My gut says our baby is a gi
rl.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my bump. “Mine, too. There’s a bathroom right around the corner. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Jake picked out the bear and was having it stuffed when I got back. He grabbed the tutu outfit, along with a tiara and little dance slippers. I reached into my bag to pull out my wallet.
“Nope,” he said. “I’m getting it.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I”m going to get this for her,” he said, and I didn’t argue. He’d been robbed of many things in this experience. I wouldn’t rob him of this.
He opened his wallet and pulled out one of several small envelopes filled with cash. He counted out the amount and paid the store employee.
As I looked at his wallet, something struck me as being off. Then I realized what it was as we were walking out of the store.
“You don’t carry any credit cards,” I said.
“Don’t have any.”
“You don’t have any credit cards?”
“Nope.”
“What do you use to pay for things?”
“Cash.”
“But to pay for stuff like gas?”
“Cash.”
“Online shopping?”
“Cash in my checking account. Although I don’t shop online very much.”
“Huh.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Want to split a slice of pizza?”
“Always.”
We sat at a table outside Sbarro taking turns chowing down on a piece of pepperoni pizza.
“I can’t believe you don’t have a single credit card.” I took a sip of my sparkling water.
Jake sighed.
“Tori, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s...it’s part of the reason why I didn’t pursue a more serious relationship with you earlier. A few years ago, before I started working for your brother, I filed for bankruptcy.”
“Oh. So no one will give you a credit card now?”
“No. I choose to only use cash now. I budget out what I’ll need to spend in those envelopes. It helps to keep me on track with my budget, not that I’m a big shopper.” He was using his matter-of-fact voice, but I could tell that there was a powerful, deeper emotion lurking just beneath the surface. “I’ve slowly paid back my creditors what I owed them, even though legally I didn’t have to after the bankruptcy. Most of it was medical bills from my dad. My parents had already spent every last dime of their savings, so I put it on my credit cards so they could keep their house. And then living expenses during my leave of absence and before your brother hired me. The interest added on faster than I could keep up with it.”
“I’m sorry.” I put my hand over his on the table.
“I’m not telling you this for sympathy, Tori. I’m telling you this because I need you to know that it will never happen again. I have an emergency backup stash for my emergency backup stash now. I can and will take care of my family’s needs. But--”
“But”--I let go of his hand as I realized the implication—”you’re worried that your family would have extravagant needs if it included me.”
Impulsive Tori. Can’t say, “no,” to a shopping bag.
He let out a sigh.
“You have a lot of expensive tastes,” he said.
“I do,” I said. “But I was also raised by my uber-frugal nana. She’s still using the same microwave from when I was in the sixth grade.”
“That thing is probably going to kill us all.”
“Probably.” I took another sip of water. “My point is that, yes, I love to shop. But I have my own money. It’s not something you’d even need to worry about. And most of the luxury brands that I buy, I actually get on sale.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What about those expensive La Perla underthings?” he said. “Those probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.”
“I thought you didn’t know their name.”
He shrugged.
“If you must know, I only have a few pairs of those. I wear them on special occasions.”
“Special occasions?”
“When I know I’m going to be seeing you.” I could feel the heat creep up my cheeks as I said it.
In fact, I’d put on a pair today. Not because I thought there was any way I’d talk him into seeing them. It was because they made me feel sexy, and I liked feeling sexy around him—even if the attraction was no longer mutual. Especially now, as I was feeling less and less sexy by the day, with my pinching waistbands and heartburn if I even thought about foods spicier than mayonnaise.
“Well, by all means,” said Jake, “Maybe there needs to be an envelope just for those.”
I smiled, even though I knew he was only being awnry.
Nineteen
Jake
Utterly clueless.
She had no damn idea what she did to me.
Watching her walk around with that bouncy ponytail and even bouncier boobs. And when she turned around just so, I could see the curve of her baby bump outlined against her shirt.
“What do you think of this?” she asked for what seemed like the fiftieth time. She’d spent hours rummaging through clearance piles and sales racks. The woman had the stamina of an Olympic cross-country runner when it came to shopping.
“Nice. I like it.” Of course, I’d like her in anything. And I’d like it even better with not a stitch of clothing on her at all.
“Okay. I’ll put it on the maybe list.” She went back into the curtained changing room.
I seemed to have two jobs. Hold things. And sit in the “husband chair” as the saleslady called the bench in the corner of the dressing room, while saying, “Nice. I like it,” over and over again.
Well, and try to hide my out-of-control erection. I guess that made three things.
“What about this one?” She stepped out wearing a flirty, ruffled skirt and twirled around.
“I love it,” I said. I’d love it even better tossed over the footboard of my bed.
“It’s cute, isn’t it? I’ll put it on the definite list,” she said. “I had no idea the wardrobe options that pregnancy would open up.”
“Is there anything you haven’t tried on yet?” I asked.
“Getting tired?” she asked from behind the curtain.
“Exhausted. I had no idea shopping was so much hard work.” We’d probably walked five miles circling the mall.
“Well, this was our last stop,” she said. “And that was my last thing to try on.”
Phew.
Not that I was complaining. I was happy just to get to hang out with her. But I really was worn out. I didn’t understand how she wasn’t.
She popped out from behind the curtain and tugged at her waistband.
“I think my belly grew another few inches in the last three hours,” she said.
“It probably did,” said the sales lady.
“Huh?” Tori and I both said.
“Your abdominal muscles get looser as the day goes on, and most women show more in the afternoon and evening than in the morning,” she said. “Especially when it’s your first pregnancy.”
“It is,” said Tori. “Our first.”
She said it offhandedly and immediately began sorting through her different piles of clothes. She didn’t even catch what she’d said. But I did.
Our first.
Implying there was an us.
I didn’t dare make any mention of it. Tori was still like a skittish horse, ready to bolt at the first mention of commitment. But it gave me a new shred of hope.
“Okay, I’ll take all of these,” said Tori, pointing to one of the piles. I was happy to see the pink skirt on the top.
“Very good,” said the sales lady.
“And then go ahead and ring up all of those separately.” Tori pointed to the other pile. “Along with everything else on those three racks.”
Tori pointed to three large rounders brimming with maternity clothes of all sizes.
“All of
them?” The sales lady’s eyes bulged.
“Yup,” said Tori.
“But—”
“All of them.” She handed over a platinum card.
“V-v-very good.” The sales lady scampered off to get another employee to help with the checkout.
I nearly choked.
“Uhh, Tor?” I said. “I realize that you’re getting bigger, but I don’t think you’re going to need triplicates of every piece of clothing in multiple sizes.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “They’re not for me.”
“Oh-kay.”
She let out a sigh.
“When I realized I was pregnant, I called Dr. Layman, and she worked me in that very afternoon. And even though I was scared and overwhelmed, I didn’t worry for one second about how I’d pay my medical bills. I didn’t have to wait to apply for Medicaid. I didn’t worry about how much diapers would cost or if I’d be able to afford baby clothes or childcare. Or food. But when I was in the waiting room, I saw all these women who probably couldn’t afford those basic things. And some of them were only girls, teenagers no older than I was when I—”
She cut off and looked down at her feet.
There was something there--something she wasn’t telling me--but again, I didn’t want to press her.
“Anyway, this is the least I can do,” she said. “I’ll have them delivered to Dr. Layman’s office. They can give the clothes to women who might need them.”
“That’s really awesome,” I said.
“It’s nothing,” she said quietly.
“It won’t be nothing to those women that you help.”
She didn’t say anything else, but she glowed even brighter than usual as she put her shoes back on.
* * *
After Tori had arranged for the donation to be delivered, I started rearranging bags and boxes on my arms. I’d need to remember to bring a pack mule for future shopping excursions. I had to admit, though, the grand total for the clothes she’d bought for herself wasn’t as large a sum as I’d been expecting. The woman really was an expert bargain-hunter. And at the end, she even negotiated another ten percent off. Tori knew how to find a deal.