I shrugged out of my jacket and hung it on the row of hooks near the front door. “Is she on call? I thought she had the night off.”
“She does, but the on-call who was supposed to relieve her was running late…whatever. She’ll explain it when she gets here. But don’t make it a big deal, okay? She’s doing this thing where she’s trying to be the perfect wife.” He made air quotes around those two words and rolled his eyes again. “I keep telling her that we’re both doctors, and it’s super unrealistic to expect either of us to have some sort of nine-to-five lifestyle where we eat dinner together every night, but she’s dead set on it…”
I shook my head and laughed. Now we were back in familiar territory. Jared Territory.
We took our beers on a tour of Jared’s new two-story, three-bedroom, three-bath townhome. It was builder basic — high-end finish builder basic, but basic none the less. Stark white walls, bland blond engineered wood floors, pressed wood crown molding, kitchen and bathroom packages from Lowes or Home Depot, with hard surface countertops and bronzed fixtures. I hated it. But I could tell that Jared wanted my approval, so I made all of the appropriate sounds and thumped him on the back. At least Brandi had done a good job decorating it.
“This is a beautiful home you’ve made for you and your little wife. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You really did good.”
“Thanks. Let’s go out back and light up the fire pit—”
“I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!” Brandi called out frantically as she burst through the front door, her arms full of grocery bags. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a last-minute aneurysm roll in, and the on-call neurosurgeon wasn’t answering his phone, and—”
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Jared said. He went to her, kissed her, and took the bags out of her hands. “Me and Tomás are perfectly capable of entertaining ourselves.”
“I know, but it’s already so late and—”
“Baby…” Jared pulled her into his arms, whispered something to her, and kissed her again. Brandi smiled and softened in his arms.
I turned my back to give them some privacy. It was a private moment. Yup. That was exactly why I couldn’t watch my friend soothe his cute, frazzled wife. I wasn’t jealous or anything. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
I guzzled down what was left of my beer.
“Hey, Tommy!” Brandi called out. Before I could turn around, I found Brandi’s arms around me, giving me one of her firm bear hugs. “So glad you finally came over. I’m making salmon. You like salmon, right?
“Love it,” I said, turning to face her.
She smiled, and now I understood why Jared had asked me to go with the flow. Brandi was clearly stretching herself thin, but when she gave me that big smile, Jared smiled too. I knew how it felt to want to make your woman’s load lighter, to make her smile.
Who’s making Darcy smile now?
Dinner was late, and by the time Brandi served the overcooked but well-seasoned salmon, I was halfway in the bag and ravenous enough to eat more than one helping without complaint.
The three of us cleaned the kitchen together, and then Jared and I took the last of the beers onto the back patio.
“Brandi’s not gonna join us?” I asked.
Jared glanced at me with a smirk on his face, and I knew why. Even I could hear how slurred my words were.
Beer drunk on a Thursday night. Bueno.
“Nah,” Jared said finally as he lit the fire pit. “She has the early shift again tomorrow.”
“Well, shit,” I said, preparing to stand. “I should go. You probably want to fuck your wife.”
“Relax, vaquero,” Jared said, slamming a big hand into the middle of my chest and forcing me back down into my chair. “You need to sober up a bit, then Uber home.”
I sank back into the patio chair. “Good call,” I said, kicking my feet up on the rim of the stone fire pit. “I mean…why the fuck am I rushing home anyway? Ain’t nobody there waitin’ for me.” I tipped up my beer bottle with a wry chuckle.
“Never knew that being alone was a problem for you.”
“Didn’t used to be,” I murmured under my breath.
Jared twisted in his chair and gave me a pointed look.
“What?” I asked when he’d stared at me for an awkwardly long time without saying anything.
“Are you trying to tell me something? Is there some girl you’re seeing that I don’t know about?”
“What? Nah…nah…there’s no girl. But I’m not that thing you called me by the door earlier.”
“What? A perpetual bachelor?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what would give you that impression, but—”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The weather girl was your last long-term relationship, and that was over a year ago. Since then, you haven’t been interested in dating. You won’t let Brandi hook you up with any of her friends—”
“I can’t date a fucking doctor. Y’all keep ridiculous schedules. I might as well stay single.”
“Not all of her friends are doctors, Tomás. But you haven’t taken her up on it, so how would you know?” Jared shook his head. “Pffttt…you want to be alone.”
“Maybe. But that still doesn’t mean I want to be alone forever—”
“You’re not interested in dating or relationships, Tommy? How the fuck do you think that’s supposed to turn out?”
How the fuck was that supposed to turn out? There was an answer to his question, but I was sure it wasn’t one he wanted to hear or that I could ever tell him. Darcy had occupied that space in my heart long before I ever thought of filling it. Now that I’d been with her, it was hard to even think of anyone else in that way.
It was ridiculous. I knew it was. But I couldn’t deny that I’d constantly compared the women I dated to her over the years. She was intelligent, soulful, caring, kind, and so fucking beautiful. So unbelievably sexy and beautiful that I could barely look at her sometimes, but even with all that, she was a down-to-earth country girl. Ambitious enough to be successful all on her own while caring deeply for her family and friends.
Darcy was the blueprint for me, but I couldn’t fucking have her. I needed some time to get over that.
“I…” I paused to clear my throat because my voice was too thick with emotion. “I remain hopeful that I will find someone who makes me as happy as Brandi has made you someday. But for right now—”
“Yeah, I know. You’re focused on your business,” Jared finished for me, his tone short and clipped.
“Hey, what’s with all this bullshit? Are you angry with me or something?”
“To be honest, yes. I just thought we would be going through these stages together.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know…getting married, having kids, watching the game on the big screen on the weekends while our kids play in the fucking yard, and our wives drink wine in the kitchen and talk shit about us.”
“Why are they talking shit about us?”
“I don’t fucking know, Tommy. Maybe I’m not fucking my wife enough, and you have a honey-do list that’s as long as your ass is tall. Fuck if I know. It’s what married couples do. They complain about each other, then go home and fuck anyway because that’s what love is.”
“Oh-kay, I’m drunk, but how does that make sense? And are you not fucking Brandi enough?”
“She may have complained about it a few times, but that’s not the fucking point, Tomás. We were supposed to be going through these stages together. I can’t talk to you about married life because your ass ain’t married.”
“I mean… I get it. I thought I would be too.”
But was that true?
How could I think that we would ever be able to go through those stages together when Darcy was the only woman I’d ever truly wanted?
“Maybe I just need to get out more. Not work so much,” I conceded.
“Definite
ly that,” Jared readily agreed. “Maybe take a vacation or something.”
“I just took a vacation when you got married—”
“That wasn’t a vacation. That was four days of being my best man and taking care of my mother. I mean a real vacation. Two weeks or a month somewhere warm. Isn’t that supposed to be a perk of being a business owner?”
“I heard that somewhere…yeah,” I agreed.
“Well, you need to do it. You’ve hired three architects in the past year. You can delegate and take some time for yourself before you burn the fuck out. Because that’s where this is headed.”
Jared wasn’t wrong. I did need to get out of Chicago and out of my own fucking head.
* * *
I stumbled out of my Uber and rode the elevator up to my condo. Had this building always felt this cold and sterile to me? Admittedly, I should live in some renovated townhome like the one I saw in Bronzeville today, but I thought it seemed too much like a place a man looking for a wife would buy.
Haha. Joke’s on me.
Amazing how getting the one thing I’ve always wanted more than anything made all of my previous accomplishments feel pointless and empty. I’d never really understood that statement until I opened the door to my condo.
Sweeping city views greeted me. My cleaning lady came by this afternoon, so everything smelled faintly of bleach and purple Fabuloso. Everything was neat, clean, and undisturbed.
It felt and looked like a fucking tomb.
“Fuck this,” I cursed out loud in the empty apartment. Stripping out of my clothes and leaving them in the middle of the floor, I poured myself some more whiskey and opened my laptop.
It was time to plan my fucking escape.
18
Darcy
“Darcy Anne MacFarland!” Minerva exclaimed as she stormed into my bedroom.
I groaned and rolled onto my side. “I could’ve sworn I told you that I didn’t need you today.”
“Hm. As if I didn’t see right through that lie.” She stalked across the room and yanked open the heavy blackout curtains I always installed when the weather turned cold. A flood of pale, wintery sunlight flooded the room. “Look at all of this dust!”
“Minerva, please,” I grumbled.
“Please, nothing. I haven’t been here in almost three weeks. And I said to myself that there’s only two reasons why you wouldn’t want me to come over. You either hired someone else, or you’re over here rolling in your own filth.” Minerva came to stand over me. “And here I find you in bed at midday.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel great.”
“I reckon you don’t with all of that whiskey you’ve been drinking. I saw the bottles in the trash before I emptied it. Had the whole house stinking like Bourbon Street on a Friday night during Mardi Gras.”
“Okay, whatever. Will you close the blinds so I can sleep off this hangover?”
“No, ma’am. You’ve done enough of that. Time to get out of this bed and into the bath.”
I opened my eyes and glared at her. “Last time I checked, my mama was Black and living on Daniel Island.”
Minerva narrowed her eyes until they were nothing but glittering, blue shards. “You’re right about that. Would you like me to get her on the phone so she can come down here and drag her daughter out of bed?”
“Are you seriously threatening to call my mother?”
“You’re the one who brought her up! If getting her on the phone will get you out of these stale sheets and into the shower to put some hot water and soap on your body, I’ll do it.” She folded her arms over her chest and shifted her weight onto one foot. “So, what’s it gonna be? Should I go start the shower?”
Defeated, I sighed and closed my eyes. “Fine.”
“Good.” Minerva turned her back and marched into my bedroom. “I’ll lay some fresh pajamas out for you too.”
“I’m not saying thank you!” I yelled at her back.
Irritated, I kicked off the covers in a small, silent tantrum. So what, it was midday on Tuesday, and I’d been drinking since Sunday night? Work was slow, and I had no kids to take care of — not to mention the fact that I was fifty-five goddamn years old. I’d earned this wallow. I was allowed.
But had it really been three weeks since Minnie had come by to clean the house?
Well, yeah…that sounds about right.
Because three weeks ago, Tommy had added his trip to Costa Rica to our shared calendar. At first, I thought it was an invitation. I mean, sure, we hadn’t communicated since he left in June, but my heart had damn near broken free of my chest when I saw it. I immediately took a screenshot of the event and sent him a playful, “are you trying to tell me something?” text. He responded within seconds with an apology. Said he was drunk. That he’d put it on our shared calendar by accident, and wow. That had hurt more than it fucking should have.
But still hopeful and glad to be texting him again, I had tried to keep the communication flowing.
Me: Costa Rica, huh?
Tommy: Yeah. Jared told me that
I needed to take a vacation
because I was showing
all the textbook signs of burnout.
He was right.
So I decided to get the fuck
out of here for a while.
Me: How long is a while though?
No return flight?
Tommy: I don’t know yet. I took a month,
but maybe it’ll end up being more than that.
Me: What about Son of Martin?
And all of the work you’ve done on
your equitable housing initiatives?
Tommy: I recently hired three architects.
One of them, Lauryn, is more connected than
I am when it comes to the dealing with our
equitable housing projects so
she’ll be handling it while I’m gone.
The Cobb & Frost job is almost done.
I don’t need to be here for it run smoothly.
Besides, it’s a five-hour flight.
I can always fly home if there’s an emergency.
This was all stuff I knew. I’d watched his company grow via social media over the last six months. Watched him hire those three architects, one of whom was a long-legged, dark-skinned beauty named Lauryn, who seemed everpresent in both his personal and business feeds lately. I saw them leave the Craftsman bungalow they’d worked out of for the last four years and move into a larger, more corporate office. I’d watched it all happen. I’d even liked a few of those posts and praised him a bit. Now I was beginning to realize that this was probably growth he’d planned just so he could take this extended trip. To relocate to Costa Rica and never come back.
Then, like a fool, I’d told him that I missed him. His answering text was full of so much venom that my fingertips had stung from it.
Tommy: What the fuck do you expect
me to do with that, Darcy?
He’d apologized. I apologized, and then he apologized some more, but three weeks later, those words were still dogging my thoughts.
What the fuck do you expect me to do with that, Darcy?
What, indeed.
I took a shower and dressed myself in clean pajamas. By the time I made it down to the kitchen, the smell of my favorite breakfast foods filled the air — even though it was no longer breakfast time. Hell, it was even too late for brunch. I shuffled into the room sheepishly and sat at the breakfast bar.
“Coffee?” Minerva asked.
“Yes, please.”
Guilt swamped me as she poured my coffee into my favorite mug, made just the way I liked. “I’m sorry,” I said when she set the cup in front of me. “I didn’t mean to snap at you upstairs. I’m just—“
“Feeling blue. I know. I was here the last time. Remember?”
I nodded and sipped my coffee, feeling appropriately chastised. Because Minerva was here, the last time I spiraled like this. She was there after every miscarriage. After the canc
er diagnosis and the hysterectomy. In truth, Minerva was better equipped to handle this than anyone who knew me.
“So…” she began while spooning grits, eggs, and bacon on a plate with two mile high biscuits. “Are you ready to tell me what’s got you down this time?”
I shook my head, unwilling to unload this particular sin. “I don’t know that it’s one thing,” I answered vaguely.
“Hm,” she said, handing me the plate. “You’ve been like this since Jared announced his engagement. I thought it would let up after the wedding. Especially since you seemed to be in such good spirits during the festivities.” Minerva leaned against the counter and regarded me with raised eyebrows.
“It’s a big milestone. Like empty nest times a thousand. I’m allowed to have a hard time with this.”
“That’s absolutely true. You are. But you’ve seemed a bit worse the last couple of weeks. Did something happen?”
I tried to ignore it. Tried to bury it under the mouthful of grits, eggs, and a bite of bacon. But the tears welling in my eyes and the tightening in my throat made it too hard to swallow. I stared at my plate and kept chewing as I blinked the tears back.
“You can tell me,” she said softly. “You know you can tell me anything.”
And I could. She knew everything about me, so why not this? “I did something I shouldn’t have,” I sputtered.
The whole story poured out of me. Every bit, from start to finish. The proposition. The kiss on the wrist. The brush of lips by the pool. Watching him in the shower. The night on my piazza…the eighteen hours we spent together. I told her everything. Every feeling and every thought that passed through my head during the time we spent together. Every feeling and thought I’d had since. Told her about our shared calendar, and the trip to Costa Rica, and the harsh words he had for me a few weeks ago. I told her all of this, but I didn’t even say his name.
If She Says Yes Page 18