Different as Night and Day

by Lennon, Leigh

  I turn to the side of the bar. It looks out on Main Street. Familiar purple strands bob in the air in front of the Chinese restaurant. But I don’t recognize the masculine arm wrapped around my girl.

  Red—it’s what I see in this moment. My adrenaline pumps and I imagine steam coming out of my ears like the old-school cartoons. I walk closer to the window, it’s then, I recognize the redheaded man whose face is entirely too close to hers.

  I storm to the back of the pool hall when George, the bartender, yells after me. “M, want your beer?” I leave it there until I find Ned, who’s just sunk the eight ball on his last go-round.

  “Where’s our beer?” he asks but he backs up, familiar with the anger coursing through my eyes.

  “Whoa there, M? Who’s pissed on your parade?”

  “Evan Waltry?” It’s all I say.

  “Yeah, you know Evan. He was coming to work with us while he was on break at school. But remember I mentioned today, he’s going to be leaving tomorrow. Family emergency.”

  Ah, this may just be the silver lining I need. “You mean, he’s going to be gone, as of tomorrow morning?”

  “Yeah, but why in the world were you ready to take my head off?” Ned wonders out loud.

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Let me go grab our beer. I’ll be back soon.” And in an instant, my mood changes.

  Chapter 14

  This shit has gotten old. It’s been four months and I look at the text I’ve sent.

  Me: Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, can you come by for dinner? I’d love to exchange presents with Scottie and you. We are, after all, family.

  But it’s not my text I’m staring at. It’s Hollands return text.

  Darlin’: No can do. I’ll be at Elise’s like last year and we can exchange presents then.

  I’m out of my house and in my car, down the drive before my brain catches up with my body. Looking at the clock, it’s well past the baby’s bedtime but without work in the morning, I know Holland will still be awake, probably bingeing on Guy’s Grocery Games.

  I tap lightly on the door. When Holland doesn’t answer it, I tap a little harder.

  “Who is it?” she calls.

  “Me, darlin’.”

  The clink of the chain is the first sound I hear when she turns the doorknob, opening it a crack to see me. “Shit, Sarge. I’m not quite decent. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Let me in, Holland, we need to talk.” She wants to act like a child, I’ll treat her like one. My tone is certainly one a father uses to set their child straight. But, like so many times, nothing innocent is present when it comes to Holland and me.

  Her stare intensifies when she cocks her head to the side. “I’m not your child, you don’t get to order me around.”

  I push open the door, a little more forcefully than I mean to, walking past her, not waiting for an invitation. I know it’s not coming anytime soon.

  “Sure, Sarge, just make yourself at home, come on in. Want an apple pie? A glass of wine? Maybe a good kick in the family jewels?”

  Oh, she wasn’t joking when she claimed she wasn’t decent. With a tiny white spaghetti strap tank top, it’s obvious she’s minus a bra. “Yeah, don’t get smart-mouthed with me, little girl. I’ll put you over my knee.” What the hell is coming out of my mouth? I guess when one is as mad as I am, the ability to speak the truth without regard and a care in the world is very real.

  She stomps over to her television and grabs the remote. The spiky hair of Guy Fieri is all I see paused on the screen. This is how much I know Holland. Turning off the television, she spins back around with her hands on her hips.

  “Okay, Sarge. Tell me what the flip flop polly wop is going on and why you had to drive out after I just told you I didn’t want to see you.”

  Both of my eyebrows raise and an incredulous smile forms on my face. “First off, you told me you didn’t want to see me tomorrow, not tonight.” I wink because her little face is turning beet red. Oh, I love pissing this girl off. “Second, you know exactly what you said to get me all up in arms. I’ve been playing this little song and dance for months now, four to be fucking exact and I’m telling you right now, it’s over. We hash this out, right fucking now.”

  She walks over to the couch—and I think for one moment she may kick it. “You just interrupted a budget battle, you ass. It’s my favorite challenge.”

  I have no idea what she means and I shrug because honestly, four months of this shit has gotten old.

  “Listen, darlin’, I’m done with this shit. I love you. I was an ass. I know it was a slip of the tongue. And I think in any other situation, I would have been a little more level-headed about it.”

  She leans forward, her head in her hands. Not looking up at first, she throws her head back, looking at the ceiling.

  “It was for the best.” She lowers her voice and her skin flushes. I don’t miss when she parts her lips, her tongue darting out to lick them.

  “Fuck, Holland, I was close to making you come by my hands alone. Just think what I could have done to you once I was inside your tight little pussy.”

  The blood drains from her face, with my words. “Sarge, I’m tired of this back and forth, hot and cold. I swear, it’s like whiplash. Between you and me and the fucking universe intervening, I swear we’re fighting for something the world is telling us will never happen.”

  “Darlin’, we make our own destiny.” I’m at the door when I look back at her. “I don’t care whose house we’re doing it at, but you, me and my grandbaby are spending Christmas Eve together. Text me to let me know where. And, Holland, don’t challenge me on this.”

  Ranger’s tongue is licking my fingers and whining.

  “Need to go out, boy?” I ask, waking to a cold as shit morning, the chilly wind hitting my bare body, my boxers the only thing on. Moving to turn on the lights of the Christmas tree, my text alert pings. I smile, picking up the phone.

  Darlin’: Since you’re pretty much forcing me, we’ll come your way since I don’t plan on cooking. You better do steak.

  Ah, I’m one step ahead of her.

  Me: Yep, steak and potatoes, cornbread, and broccoli. Good for you?

  Holland: What about dessert?

  Holland and her sweet tooth. I chuckle, looking in my pantry for ideas.

  Me: Brownies and vanilla ice cream. Is this okay with you, Miss Demanding?

  I wait like a horny teen ready to score for the first time.

  Holland: Yep, see you at three.

  Holland took my threat seriously. Some way or another, I was going to get her and Scottie to myself today. I start to make some Christmas cookies. If Holland doesn’t eat them all, which I think she may, I can take the rest to Ned and Elise’s house tomorrow.

  I’d wanted to ask her to pack a bag, to spend the night in her old room. I would have loved to see Scottie in the morning. But for now, I’ll be happy with what I have.

  Starting cookies and wrapping presents, I’m in my own world when Holland’s loud mouth calls for me down the hallway. We’d not spent last year together. We were fighting then. Shocker, I know but shit, I want to start some traditions.

  She steps in front of my television where the fireplace sits. Her back is to me as she’s looking at the stockings. Scott’s stocking is out, I had done it last year, too. But this year, we have added to the family.

  “You got a stocking for me? And you put out Scott’s?”

  “Darlin’, you’re part of my family. And I can’t ever forget Scott.” Her house was bare of Christmas decorations. “Darlin’, why didn’t you put up decorations this year?”

  I thought it was the busy scooting cutie she's holding in her arms but when she turns, I know it’s more.

  “I lost most of them in the fire. They were right below, in boxes I’d not gone through.” A tear escapes her eyes. I almost run to her, pulling her into my arms.

  “Shit, I had no idea.” Breaki
ng the distance between us, I tip her head to mine while Scottie is poking at my ear. “Promise me something?”

  “Yeah?” she asks, her tears soaking my shirt.

  “Can we call a truce, with this silly fight of ours? I’ve missed you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve missed you, too, Sarge.”

  Under the tree are two specific presents for her and Scottie.

  “We’ll open the rest of the presents later, but for now, I want to continue the tradition I had with Scott.”

  My little girl reaches out for me and I take her, following Holland to the couch. She unwraps the smaller box at first and laughs when she’s face-to-face with red and white candy cane pajamas. “I even have them washed for her.” She continues to open the next present and she laughs loudly again. “What in the world?” She pulls out larger pajamas.

  “I know it’s not really a guy thing, but I started getting Scott and me matching pjs the first year I visited him in Virginia. And at the time, he loved being like me. Throughout the years, he still wanted to do this.” I stand to grab my own pajamas on the kitchen island. “We’ll all be matching. Go change and we’ll kick off our Christmas festivities.”

  “What should we do now, since we ate and opened presents?” she asks, pulling all the wrapping paper scraps from Scottie’s hands and out of Ranger’s mouth. “By the way, you went a little overboard on presents for your grandbaby,” she teases, as we sit close in our candy cane pajamas.

  “No, I don’t think I have,” I say, watching her look at the baby doll and all her many presents. “But I think she likes her baby.” Now, at nine months, she’s certainly more mobile. “And next, we’re watching the best Christmas movie ever.”

  “I’m on pins and needles here.” Her sarcasm hits me like one of her playful smacks. “I can’t wait to hear this.” Her pitch hitches a little bit. “Knowing you, it’s some sort of action-packed show that takes place during the holidays.”

  “No, this is a true Christmas movie.” Sitting next to her, I start the DVR when she smacks me. “Shit, I’ve not missed you hitting me.”

  “Die Hard is not a Christmas movie,” she begins when Scotland scoots toward me. I place her on the couch, centering her in the middle of us. For a nine-month-old who loves to roam around, she places her two middle fingers in her mouth and leans in toward me. “She’ll be out in ten minutes. I should probably head home anyway.”

  Pulling her closer to me, I say, “No can do. It’s not officially Christmas until we watch this movie.” And for once, the stubborn woman doesn’t argue with me.

  Holland is almost asleep when Bruce Willis yells, “Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker!” She pops her eyes open.

  “I’m awake, I’m not missing the movie.”

  Scottie passed out before the intro began. She’s still next to me and I love every minute of her soft snores and cuddles.

  “Darlin’, why don’t you sleep here tonight? I don’t want you driving home.”

  “Sarge, come on, it’s not a good idea.”

  I had challenged her to count the number of people John McClane killed. But her sleepy eyes were too much for her.

  “If you go home, I’m driving you.”

  She turns toward me and glares my way.

  “You’re a pain in my ass—fine. But I want to be home, I have all of Scottie’s stuff there. But you’ll have to come get me in the morning.”

  It’s decided then and after the movie, I secure Scotland in her car seat, driving toward Holland’s apartment. I want to walk her to her door, making sure she gets in safe but I don’t. It would not be a simple goodbye. She pulls at my hand and kisses it.

  “You’re the best man I know, Maguire Parrish.”

  I lean in and kiss her, a little one on the lips. It’s what it’s supposed to be until she opens up, offering more of herself. But then pulls back.

  “Shit, Maguire—I’m so sorry. Giving you false hope is a bitch like thing to do.”

  Tipping her head to my eyes, I reply, “Don’t be, one day you’ll be mine, Holland.”

  She leaves without much more than a simple goodbye.

  One day you’ll be mine, Holland, plays in my mind over and over again. Christmas Eve leaves me restless. It must be hours before I finally have found some semblance of sleep. But the screams of my daughter bring me out of my coma. This day will be a long one on a small amount of sleep.

  I run into her room to grab her. The second she sees me, she’s all smiles. We’ve come a long way from the angry baby days where she fussed all the time.

  “Merry Christmas, my sweet little girl.”

  Of course, this being her first Christmas, I’ve gone overboard on gifts for her. I think of how I don’t want to be here by myself.

  Picking up my phone, I text Maguire.

  Me: Hey, Scottie is about to open her presents from me. Want to come over and watch?

  Taking Scottie over to her high chair and placing a couple of pinwheel puffs on her tray, I pull out the small little coffee maker I bought for Maguire when he’s over, hoping he’ll be here soon. Starting some pancakes, I look at my watch. Hell, it’s only six a.m. I want to crawl back into bed. Flipping one of my pancakes, I blow on it as Scottie’s patience has run thin seeing her favorite food in reach unable to eat it. My baby is certainly not patient—just like her mama.

  Checking my phone every five minutes, I finally accept I’ll be by myself as we open Scotland’s presents. Steeping my tea, I’m cleaning my syrup-clad baby when a knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts. Leaving Scottie in her high chair, I almost run to the door, swinging it open. In front of me is a rugged Maguire with a bag and his very scruffy beard. Oh, how I love when he skips a day or two of shaving.

  “I was thinking you’d miss it,” I say, a huge goofy smile appearing on my face.

  “I texted you.” He walks in, leaning over and giving me a kiss—another kiss like last night. This is something, I think internally to myself.

  “I didn’t get a text,” I reply.

  He grabs for his phone and laughs. “Well, it helps when I hit send.” Right then my phone rings.

  “Yeah, you’re so old.” I’m always giving him hell over his lack of technological understanding.

  He moves to his baby as her hands begin waving for him. “I’m coming, little darlin’,” he begins. “Now, let’s work on seeing how much your mommy has spoiled you.”

  He puts her on the floor and I stand against the wall, watching the both of them rip through presents. Yes, this is much better than doing it alone.

  Scottie is down for a nap by nine a.m. and I close my eyes on the couch. Maguire had been in such a hurry to get to us this morning, he packed a bag to take a shower here. I’m dozing off when he emerges from the hallway bathroom, his cologne filling my house. He has to be tiptoeing as to not wake me, sitting down behind me.

  “I’m awake, Sarge.”

  “Ah, darlin’, go crawl into bed. I’ll clean up and take care of Scotland if she wakes. We don’t have to be at Ned and Elise’s until one.”

  I miss one-on-one affection. It’s what swirls through my head as I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Okay,” I start, as I stare at him.

  “What are you thinking, darlin’?” His gaze is on me.

  “The kiss, Sarge. Why did you do it? It’s all I can think about.” Sure, we’ve kissed before but this one from earlier had been more.

  “You’re asking me why I kissed you this morning, really? Especially since when I kissed you last night, you wanted more?”

  His little chuckle has my stomach flip-flopping and my ovaries needing so much from him.

  “You know how I feel about you. It’s time you admit it, too, and we can put the agony of our unrequited love to rest, and begin our life together.”

  I kneel in front of his legs, grabbing his hands. “What would Scott think of this?”

  His face pales and he looks away from me when I continue. “Do you t
hink we could justify this to him if he were still alive? Think about it, what if Scott and I had gotten a divorce and the two of us had these same feelings? What would he say?” I’m sincere, stroking his hands.

  “But he’s not, darlin’, it’s not the same. We could play what-ifs all day long.”

  When I stand, I lean down and give him a kiss on his lips and like last night, it’s not quick or hurried. It’s long as he worships my mouth. I pull back. “You’re right, but the bottom line, he’s gone and we’ll never know.”

  The drive to Elise’s in my SUV is quiet. With Maguire driving me home last night, he had my car and we drive together.

  It seems like the little progress we’d made yesterday and then this morning was pushed back after our little disagreement about Scott. As I grab the casserole I made, along with everyone’s presents, Maguire grabs Scottie. The second we walk in the door, Elise’s expression almost sours.

  “What’s going on?” She doesn’t hold back when it’s the two of us.

  “It’s a long story.” I can’t go into it because I don’t know how to explain it to my own self let alone someone else.

  “Okay, remember, if you ever need a listening ear, I’m here for you.”

  And this is the reason Elise will always be the only person I consider my mother.

  Chapter 15

  It’s hard to believe it’s a new year. I’m running late getting Scotland to Elise’s. Teagan and I are on our way to look at houses. I still have several more months on my lease but I want an idea of what’s out there. Plus, between Teagan and Josh, I can get an idea about a fixer-upper and maybe put a plan together to renovate. If this is what I can do, I can undoubtedly buy soon, because it’ll take a while to get it the way I want it.

  I keep putting off school more and more every time it’s brought up. With Scottie and a full-time job, I don’t have time for anything else. Plus, my bonus from all the new contracts I’ve secured with hotel chains is over twenty grand. It’s what I plan to use for any renovations.