by L. B. Dunbar
When I don’t respond again, as I don’t know what to say, he smiles once more at River and walks to the side of the house. Watching him disappear around the corner, I nearly collapse back to the chair, not realizing how on edge I’d been. My body aches like I’ve overextended myself in a workout.
“I’m so proud of you,” River says, squatting beside the chair. Her hands cover one another, and her chin rests on her knuckles as she looks up at me. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” I honestly admit, uncertain of everything. Her hand shifts to my thigh, and I quickly wrap my fingers around hers, pulling it up to my lips, lingering against her knuckle. There are too many racing thoughts in my head to process, so I’m grateful when she doesn’t ask me more questions. She doesn’t make me talk. She just lets me be.
“Why were you upset earlier?” I ask, recalling the tears in her eyes. “You’re home early.”
Her lips twist side to side as her bright blue eyes hold mine.
“Jessica died.” The little girl patient she eventually told me about. The one who had her in tears the first day we were building the tree fort.
“River, angel.” I reach down for her and tug her up to my lap, holding her to my chest. With her arms wrapped around my neck, her nose settles against my skin, and she inhales. Her tears are held at bay for now, but I know later that night, when we make love in the dark, we’re going to cling a little harder to one another. We’re going to hold tighter and never want to let go.
30
[Zack]
On Monday, after a great weekend with River, I call Mason.
“I don’t know much about our project schedule, but can we add another one?” I ask my friend and business partner.
“You’d know if you moved here,” Mason scoffs. We’ve been handling all our meetings virtually, which works but isn’t quite the same as sitting in a conference room together.
“Even you don’t live there,” I remind him as he left Anna’s and returned to his townhome in Traverse City. For a man who builds properties, it’s surprising he doesn’t have an individual house.
“I’d like you to take on River’s house.”
The line goes silent a second before Mason asks, “Are you sure about this?”
With a smile in my voice, I answer. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” After my father left and River told me about Jessica, we were quiet but constantly touching as if afraid we’d lose the other without the physical connection. She made dinner, and I was at her side. I sat with the boys, and she held my hand. And when we finally had time alone, we made love that was a rush at first and then a slow dance second, keeping us connected as long as possible. Even in sleep, we wrapped around one another. The weekend ended too fast.
“You remember it’s not your house, right?” Mason reminds me, and I grin again.
“Yeah, but going to be mine again, someday. The woman inside belongs with me.” I chuckle when I consider her saying she was her own person. I am mine. Then she admitted she belonged by my side, and I belong by hers.
By the end of the day, I have a call from River.
“You cannot renovate my house,” she huffs into the line without greeting. Her voice is full of exasperation, and I just want to see her face. Those wide blue eyes giving me that look like I’m incorrigible, and her lush mouth chewing at her lower lip in frustration.
“Hello to you, too, beautiful,” I tease. “I’m actually not renovating your house. Mason is.”
“Mr. Weller, this is too much.” Her calling me the formal name recalls our first meeting, but it also reminds me she called my father that name this weekend. I bite back any retort as I don’t want to discuss my father again. She’s made her points. I listened to both her and him. I want to move onward.
“I want to do this for you.” Even without her present, I know she can see me.
“You’re pouting, aren’t you?”
I chuckle. I don’t know what my pouting expression looks like, but she always tells me I’m too cute when I do. I wish she could see me, so she’d fall for my charm and just give in to this already. Instead, she stays quiet, almost too quiet for her.
“Zack, you don’t owe me anything.” My mouth falls open, and a sharp sound rushes forward, but River continues before I can speak. “Not an apology, gratitude, or a bottle of wine. I don’t need you to fix my house.”
I know this. She doesn’t need me. She’s one of the most independent, capable women I know, but still . . . “I want to do this for you. I want to give you everything.” Suddenly, I realize I sound just like my father. He’d said the same thing. He wanted to make certain my mother never regretted picking him. I scrub my forehead, hating the comparison. My father and I are nothing alike. He abandoned the family he wanted to do everything for. He left behind the wife he wanted to give all the things.
“I don’t need everything, though, honey. Time with you is all I want. Time with the boys, too.”
“Just let Mason give you a quote,” I fire back before her words hit me.
“No.” The word is so final. “I realize it’s probably something you don’t hear much in your adult life, but no.”
“Why not?” Doesn’t she know how much I love her?
“Because I don’t like to get my hopes up for things I haven’t earned. I don’t need this kind of gift.” Her voice turns a bit colder, and I don’t understand. She’d taken a sizable gift from Quincy. I want to do one better.
“Negotiate,” I softly demand, scrubbing harder at my forehead.
“This is where you compromise, Zack. You honor my wishes, respect my property, and listen to me. You do as I ask. No, on a quote.”
Why is she so frustrating? I just want to give her nice things, and all she wants is time.
Then it hits me. I’m still such an idiot.
+ + +
Two days later, the boys are in a mood.
“Why can’t we just live with River?” Oliver whines.
“Because she isn’t a mom, you dummy,” Trevor grumbles back.
“Hey,” I snap.
“But the tree fort is there,” Oliver pouts. “I want to go in the tree fort.”
I sigh. It’s been a long day, and with River working the night shift while I’ve been at work all day, we can’t talk until late. The hours are too far away, and so is she.
It isn’t like the boys and I haven’t been on our own since last August when I confronted Jeanine, and she immediately moved out. Then I started the venture with the guys late in the fall, hoping to have everything settled before Ben died—as morbid as that thought was. My divorce was final in March, and it’s been one battle after another with Jeanine and her cancellations. Plus, there’s the regular attorney work at the partnership, and suddenly, I’m recalling what my dad said about a slower pace and less hustle.
He’d thrived on the busyness, and in many ways, I did, too. It kept me going, moving forward, but I realize I might be missing a few things going at this speed. Seven years have gone by in both a painfully slow gaze and a sharp blink of the eye. My boys are growing, changing, and I still don’t know them well enough. I don’t want them waking up thirty years from now and never knowing me. I’d be no better than my father if that happened.
“Guys, I want to ask you something.” I’m nervous, and I don’t know why. They’re just kids, but they’re my kids, and I need to do right by them with the next decision I make. They’d been at the forefront of my marriage to Jeanine, but I don’t want to take any other turns in life without their input.
I point at the couch, so the boys sit side by side before I take a seat on the low table before it. We’ve never had a formal father-son, man-to-boys chat like this, and I wipe my hands down my thighs.
“What would you think if I asked River to marry me?” I realize this is the one area I’m working fast—again. As soon as Jeanine told me she was pregnant and didn’t want our babies because it would ruin her reputation as a woman on the fast t
rack, I offered to marry her. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I immediately wanted to be there for my future children. I didn’t want them to think I’d abandoned them.
River was different. This was different. I was in love with her, but I didn’t need to go into all those details with my boys.
“She’s not a mom,” Trevor states again. “Dads marry moms.”
Waving a hand at my son, I say, “Okay, forget what I said about dads marrying moms.”
“Emma Peterson actually has two dads,” Oliver adds in, and I don’t know who Emma is or her two fathers. Yay them, but I don’t want to tackle that conversation right now either.
“What if we make River your mom? A stepmom?” I realize I’m smiling too big, and my cheeks actually hurt from the force because I want them to see this is a good thing.
“Justin Stueber has a stepmom. He says she’s evil like the one in Cinderella,” Oliver adds again.
“Who’s Cinderella?” Trevor asks. Oh boy, are we headed off course.
“Do you think River is evil?” Glancing from one boy to the next, I wonder what they think. She’s been nothing short of wonderful with them, and I haven’t had a hint they think otherwise of her.
“No.” Trevor snorts like I’m crazy.
“She’s great,” Oliver says in his best Tony the Tiger impression. Softly, I chuckle. He’s turning into quite a character.
“What makes River so great?” I’m curious. What do they love about her?
“She can talk like a pirate, build a sandcastle, and kick a soccer ball,” Trevor sings her praises in the material way.
“She hugs me,” Oliver says it so nonchalant, so matter-of-fact, my mouth falls open. Am I not affectionate enough with my child? Immediately, I know the answer, and my chest rips in half. Take my heart. Licking my lips, I rub my hands down my suit pants once more and remember how River spoke to Oliver one day.
If you want something, ask for it.
“Ollie, can I have a hug?” My voice is low, sheepish even, awaiting my own child to reject me, but just like that, he’s in my arms, his little ones around my neck. Placing my hand on his back, I hold it there, spreading my fingers and keeping my palm still. I don’t pat him. I don’t push him away too quickly. I hold my child to my chest, and my nose prickles. My eyes burn. What the hell?
Looking up, I notice Trevor watching us. There’s something in his eyes as well. The way he’s holding back like he wants what he sees, but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t trust it or himself or something. I hold out an arm, suggesting Trevor fall in next, but he doesn’t come to me. Pressing a kiss to Oliver’s head, I slip him to my side, keeping him under my arm. Then I shift, lift, and reach for Trevor, pulling him into my other arm before settling back on the low table. Squeezing him tight to my shoulder, I mimic my hold on Oliver. With my cheek at his temple, I inhale his little boy scent and just breathe.
“I love you,” I whisper to Trevor’s hair. He nods but stiffens in my arms. The words are foreign to me as well. I don’t say them often. I can’t recall having said them until I spoke them to River, down on my knees, begging her to keep me.
“I love you, Trevor,” I say louder near his ear. His little body shudders, and I try to push him back. I want to see his face, but he keeps his head low, his forehead tucked to my shoulder. It’s then that I hear the faintest sound. Just a whimper. Trevor swipes at his face, but I don’t miss the tear running down his cheek. Allowing him his privacy, I tug him back to my chest, cupping the back of his head and kissing his hair.
“I love you,” I say one more time, pressing him even tighter to me before leaning over to Oliver and repeating the sentiment. His head is turned so his cheek rests on my shoulder. He’s been watching his brother.
Looking my son directly in the eyes, I say what’s long overdue. “I love you, too, Ollie.” Slowly, he smiles, and his finger swipes the edge of my nose where something liquid has seeped.
“I know, Dad,” he whispers. “River told me.”
Softly, I chuckle when shame should fill me. He learned it from her, just like I’m learning so many things from her and loving everything.
31
[River]
The man is so infuriating, but I love him. I exhale with the thought. It’s actually sweet that he wants to renovate my house. Insufferable, but still sweet. However, a renovation is not what I want from him. I don’t want him beholden or obligated, or any other thing. Then another thought occurs, which I don’t even want to consider but can’t help once I have it in my head.
Put a thought in the universe, and it’s here to stay, my grandfather would say. He mainly meant it in reference to being mean to others. You say something, and you can’t ever take it back. The same goes for thinking negative thoughts.
Like thinking a man wants to be with me for a house.
It’s silly. It’s ridiculous. It’s extreme. He said he loves me, but that niggling doubt is there, so when he arrives the next weekend with his boys in tow, I’m out of sorts.
The Weller men get to my place on Friday evening after I’ve worked the day shift. I’m on again tomorrow morning as well. I offered to take the day off, but Zack tells me he doesn’t want me to make any changes to my schedule. It’s sweet also, but it has my questioning-thoughts feeler on high alert.
Does he want to hang at my house . . . without me? Do his boys only want to be here for a tree fort? I hate these kinds of feelings, but I trust early and learn later. I don’t want to think this of Zack, I really don’t, but I cannot shake the rhythm. Even when we have sex that night, keeping quiet and going at it on the floor because the bed squeaks too much, I can’t rid my mind of the possibility he wants in my home because he wants his house back.
When I come home from work to find Daniel Quincy in my front yard again, I’m done.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap, exiting my car and hollering at Daniel before I’ve even made it up the drive. This cannot turn into a monthly occurrence of him arriving unexpectedly, uncalled for, and harassing me about the house. It’s out of control, and it’s also over. The will stated his father’s intentions.
Suddenly, Zack steps out on the front porch, hearing my voice or maybe the sharp slam of my car door.
“River, we need to talk,” Daniel states, and Zack is quickly at my side.
“If you have something to say, you have her lawyers to contact,” Zack interjects. My mouth falls open, but Daniel steps in.
“I thought you were her lawyer.”
My head turns, wondering how Zack will respond to this after he made his grand entrance through the trees the last time Daniel was present.
“I am.”
Daniel scoffs. “You’re just the neighbor or some other bloke looking to get in her pants and steal this house.”
First, I hate how Daniel has hit on something that’s been at the forefront of my thoughts this week, but what happens next, I never expected. Zack has Daniel’s collar in his hand so fast, and his fist pressed up to his chin with that shirt in his fingers.
“Speak like that again about her, and you’ll be hearing from me as more than her lawyer.” His tone turns deadly serious.
“Meaning?” Daniel scoffs.
“I’ll bury you, your career, and your company.” For some reason, I’m convinced Zack can do it even though his father was the one ruined by Quincy.
“Do I need a restraining order on you?” Zack adds next. Daniel’s eyes shift to me, but Zack presses upward at his chin, and Daniel has his hands wrapped around Zack’s wrist. “Don’t look at her.”
“Zack,” I whisper. Not one prone to violence, I’m surprisingly flattered by this display of possession and protection.
His head tilts to glance at me. “What? You did everything for his father in the end.” He shifts back to Daniel, a man much older than Zack, and growls. “Where were you when your father needed you?”
“What do you know about it?” Daniel hisses.
Zack doesn’
t pause. “Everything.” Slowly, Zack lowers his fist and releases Daniel’s shirt, pushing at Daniel at the same time he takes a step back.
“Get the fuck out of here. I see you one more time on this property or hear you contacted River one more time, that restraining order will be a real thing. And that’s public record, so if you’re so worried about your company and scandal like I’m certain you are, you might want to think twice.” Zack pauses for a second. “How are you going to explain to the shareholders you’re harassing a woman who inherited your father’s house because you and your dipshit siblings couldn’t care enough to grant a dying man his wish?”
“You don’t know anything,” Daniel snaps, but Zack does know the story, and I’m curious if he might be commenting on a little more than Daniel’s lacking reconciliation with his father. Perhaps he’s reconsidering his absent reunion with his own father.
“Get off this property,” Zack demands, pulling out his phone like he’s ready to call the police. He didn’t even threaten his own father in that manner, and I wonder why not?
After a final scathing glance at me, we remain on the drive as Daniel stalks off.
“What a fucking douchebag,” Zack mutters under his breath as Daniel drives off in his sporty car.
“Where did all that come from?” I question, turning to him.
“I told you, I want to give you everything. That means keeping you safe and protected from assholes like him.”
Licking my lips, I chew at the corner. “About that—” I’m cut off from speaking the rest of my thought when Zack’s hands cup my jaw, and he kisses me fierce and fast.
“The boys are over at Anna’s. We have two hours until they come back.”
“I—” It’s evident Zack wants to rush upstairs and have sex, but I just can’t get on the same page.
With his hands sliding down to my shoulders, he pauses and ducks his head when I don’t respond in agreement with his eagerness. “What’s wrong?”