“I guess. How about one o’clock?”
“That sounds good. I’ll see you there.” David pulled Lottie close. “I’m glad we can start over again.” He kissed her softly on the lips.
A fluttering tickled her stomach. “I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?”
“No, I’m fine. I better get back over to billeting and try to get some rest. My sleep schedule is going to be all fucked up for a while.” He handed her the ice-filled towel.
“I’m sorry again about your lip.”
“It’s okay, Lot.” David smiled, walked down the hall, and out the door.
“See you tomorrow,” she called to the swinging door. Watching as the headlights of David’s rental flashed on and then drove off down the street, the ice in the towel leaked and dripped down her dress. She looked down and realized the dress didn’t just have splatters of water on it, there was blood too.
Shit!
Lottie tossed the towels into the kitchen sink and pulled the dress over her head, rinsing the blood spots under cold water. She glanced down at her breasts jiggling in her sheer black bra and realized how much she’d prepared just in case things went well with Grant—despite her protests to Beth. She never thought she’d be wearing her new sexy underwear in her kitchen while scrubbing her husband’s blood out of her dress. It was much less of a Monica Lewinsky moment and more of a Rocky Balboa one.
Once she was sure she had all the stains rinsed out of Beth’s dress, she hung it to dry over her shower rack, removed her makeup, and crawled into bed, curling up in her burrito of solitude. What exactly did he mean by being glad that they were starting over again? Did he mean as friends? Or did he want her back? He did want her to write to him every day. That’s more than friends, wasn’t it? And he didn’t necessarily seem happy when he mentioned Veronica. Maybe he wasn’t happy with her and this was his way of trying to get back together. But what about Grant? Did she even want to get back together with David?
Thoughts raced through her head, and she didn’t want them there. She wanted to fall asleep and not deal with any of it now. Poking her arm out of the blanket burrito, she fumbled around on the nightstand until she felt the television remote and flicked it on. Breakfast at Tiffany’s was on. Holly Golightly’s craziness might just be enough to distract her from her thoughts.
Lottie stared at the screen, shaking her head every time her mind flashed to the evening—punching David, hugging David, kissing David. Grant’s face upon meeting David and then leaving. No, she didn’t want to deal with any of that. Ever. At least for now, she could put it off until the morning. If only she could drift off to sleep but that was the last thing her mind was going to allow her to do.
After the movie, she kicked off the blankets, padded out into the living room, and pulled open her clutch, searching for her cell. Her stomach dropped when she saw she had no messages. Nothing from Grant. He was probably mad. She wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to talk to her again. She could only imagine how she’d feel if she’d went to pick him up for a date and found his wife there. Or Tiffany.
What she felt that day that Tiffany showed up at the reservoir couldn’t even feel like a fraction of what he had to be feeling right now. Maybe she should have kicked David out. Why wasn’t she a stronger person? She didn’t owe David anything and, so far as their relationship had been going, owed Grant more than what he got.
Lottie sent Beth a text.
Lottie: You up?
Beth: Yeah. What the fuck? Is your date over already?
Lottie: It never started. David showed up right before Grant did.
Beth *Emoji with eyes wide open. Poop emoji. Anger emoji*.
Lottie: Grant left. David stayed. I punched him and busted his lip.
Beth: Good. What did the Douche want? Other than to ruin your date.
Lottie: He’s deploying and wants me to write him while he’s gone. He wants us to start over again.
Beth: No fucking way. What did you say?
Lottie: I’m meeting him tomorrow for lunch. At Roma’s *unamused face emoji.*
Beth: What time?
Lottie: One.
Beth: So, he wants you back, just when you find someone who makes you happy?
Lottie: I don’t know if he wants me back. I don’t want to discuss it all right now. We’ll talk it over at the reservoir. Okay?
Beth: Fine. You better show up.
Lottie: I’ll be there. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.
Beth: All right. Goodnight, Lottie. *Face blowing a kiss emoji.*
Lottie: Goodnight. *Face blowing a kiss emoji.*
Lottie tossed her phone on the nightstand and padded into the kitchen. She ripped open her cabinet and riffled through the various vitamins and cold and flu medications until she found the allergy medication that had knocked her out last winter and popped a few capsules. She downed a glass of water, headed back to bed, and resealed herself in her burrito with only her head sticking out enough to breathe and watch television. Tootsie was on now. Another good movie to keep her mind off things.
Lottie’s phone rang. She kicked herself free and grabbed it. It was Grant.
“Hello?”
There was no answer. A butt-dial.
Lottie squished the phone into her ear harder—as though it would somehow help her hear better—and listen for as long as the call lasted. All she could hear was muffled talking, loud music, and a woman laughing.
A black hole opened in Lottie’s stomach, sucking and twisting, pinching and pulling. He had gone out. He probably wasn’t even thinking of her. Time seemed to stop. She kept listening until the phone went completely silent and she was left listening to the sound of blood rapidly whooshing in her ears.
The phone flew across the room. Lottie pulled the covers back over her body and stared blankly at the TV screen.
“Life lasts too long,” she muttered before the heaviness of the antihistamine took over and she drifted off into black.
Chapter Nineteen
Grant
Grant’s head pounded, and his stomach swirled with nausea. The moment his eyes fluttered open, he slammed them shut again. The light from the window stabbed through to his brain. With his eyes still closed, he kneeled on the bed and felt around for the blind strings. Squinting, he grabbed them to try to close the blinds but accidentally opened them completely.
He raced to close them and sat on the edge of the bed, blinking himself fully awake before opening the door and peeking out to see if Nana was up yet. Not hearing a sound, he sprinted around the corner and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Grant sat on the toilet and peed. A loud fart escaped him; his stomach felt completely jacked up from the burger, onion rings, multiple beers, sips of woo woos, and a few shots of who knew what.
After flushing, Grant washed his hands and glanced up in the mirror. He looked like death. He was way too old to pull off nights like that. His mind flashed to kissing Tiffany in the car. His hand flew to his face. True, he’d seen a different side of her, but all the work he’d put into letting her know he wasn’t interested was now moot. Was he interested? They’d had a lot of fun together, and she was available. It seemed that Lottie might not be.
Grant slipped back into his room and grabbed his balled-up jeans off the floor and pulled his cellphone from the pocket. He opened it to check for messages from Lottie and noticed an outgoing call to her. He must have accidentally dialed her.
Fuck!
What had she heard? What time had he called? Okay, it was before the kiss. She probably just heard music—if anything. His cell was shoved in his pocket most of the night. Grant immediately felt like an asshole. He wanted to call Lottie and explain everything. How he’d just gone to get something to eat, and Dan invited him to Scooters, and how he just happened to run into Tiffany there. But not about the kiss, there would be no benefit to telling her about the kiss.
Coffee. He decided to start everything off with some c
offee. His hungover mind probably wasn’t the best to be trusting with decisions like this. Grant stumbled into the kitchen and put the coffee into the machine. He padded back into the bathroom and pulled open the medicine cabinet. All Nana had was chewable baby aspirin. Rolling his eyes, Grant poured a few of them into his hand and popped them in his mouth, chewing on his way back to the kitchen.
“Oh, hey, Nana.” Grant passed Nana as she opened her bedroom door.
“Good morning. You look like shit.” Nana crinkled her nose at him. “I think if we both went out right now, people would think that I was your little sister. I’m guessing that means you either had a good night or a bad one. Didn’t hear ya puking, though, so it couldn’t have been too bad.”
“I just need some coffee.” Grant returned to the kitchen to watch the coffee pour through the machine and fill up the carafe.
“And some toast.” Nana pulled open the bread and popped them into the toaster.
“I don’t feel like eating.”
“Of course you don’t feel like eating. You’re hungover. I’m not too old to see that. You need to get something in your stomach or you’re going to feel like shit even longer. Dry toast will do just the thing.”
The swirling scents of toast and coffee made Grant’s stomach gurgle angry, vomitus threats. He did his best to calm them and remain perched to rush to the bathroom if he needed to. He laid his head on the table; the cool wood calmed his puke sweats.
Nana pushed a plate of toast in front of him and a mug. He lifted his head and grimaced at the string of a teabag hanging over the side. He pushed it away. “I need coffee.”
“Peppermint tea will soothe your nausea. Tea, toast, then coffee.” Nana sat next to him.
Please don’t ask me questions.
He pulled the mug to his lips and sipped the tea and then nibbled on the corner of a piece of toast.
“I guess you and Lottie really hit the drinks last night. I hope she didn’t drink as much as you did. Drinking isn’t my idea of a first date activity, but I know how things can be when people are awkward around each other and run out of things to say. Sometimes a little alcohol can keep things going.”
“We didn’t run out of things to say. Lottie didn’t even drink. She had an emergency with a friend, so I went out with Dan Cooley afterward.”
“Dan Cooley? Well, where did you two go?”
“Scooters.”
Nana’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. “Scooters? I didn’t think anyone without bad intentions for dirty deeds ever stepped foot in that place.”
“Well, it wasn’t my choice.” Grant sipped the tea. Some part of him now wanted to tell Nana that Tiffany was there. Perfect Tiffany. Except that he didn’t dislike her anymore so there was no point. Even though they’d kissed—a kiss he’d enjoyed—he would at least like to be friends with her.
“What was the emergency? You know, sometimes women use that ol’ excuse to get out of dates. Not that I’m trying to hurt your feelings, but I want you to be realistic with this one.”
Grant groaned and took another bite of toast, chewing it to the beat of his headache as he tried to figure out how to shut the Lottie hating down this morning. He just didn’t have the energy to paint on a smile and deal with it.
Swallowing, he turned to her. “Or maybe she’s just a good friend who is there when her friends need her.” His tone was biting. The hangover didn’t allow him to tenderize it.
“Well, excuse me for looking out for you.”
“Nana,” Grant barked, grabbing his head. “I know you don’t like Lottie. You don’t even know her, yet you don’t like her. Well, I do, a lot, and that should be enough for you. You’re so set on me being with Tiffany—who by the way is way too young for me—that you don’t want to get to know anything about Lottie.”
“Honey, I know. You’re right. I just don’t want you to get hurt by someone who has already been married. What if you fall for her and you’re just an in-between guy?”
“Well, that’s my risk to take, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes, it is. I’m sorry. But Tiffany isn’t too young for you. She’s mature for her age, and she’s so sweet and beautiful. I know you’d have beautiful children together and a wonderful life. Your Papa Joe would go on and on about her whenever we’d leave Meers. How she’d be just perfect for you.” Nana dabbed her eyes with a napkin.
Grant guzzled the rest of his still too hot tea and plunged the rest of the toast into his mouth, rising to head into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. “I’ve got a headache. I’m going to go lie down.” He kissed Nana on the top of her head before saying anything he’d regret, padded to his room, and closed the door.
***
Lottie
Lottie’s alarm screeched at her from across the room. She reached out to its normal spot on the bedside table, not realizing that it wasn’t there at first. Angrily kicking the covers off, she rolled herself off the bed like one of the Dukes of Hazzard sliding across the hood of the General Lee.
Snatching the phone from the floor, she turned off the alarm and sighed. She was too angry to try to go back to sleep. Her knuckles throbbed and burned. Memories of punching David flooded back to her. It wasn’t just a dream. Or nightmare?
Lottie stumbled into the bathroom and pulled her hair into a quick bun, peed, brushed her teeth, and returned to the bedroom to pull on some clothes. She shook her head as she looked at herself in the mirror. It was quite the different picture from the last time she’d looked herself over. Last night she’d felt more beautiful than she ever had, and today she was back to looking like a complete slob loser. Rolling her eyes, she darted out of the room, grabbed her keys, headed out, and hopped in the car.
Beth was waiting at the reservoir with Pickles. Lottie parked and laid her forehead against the steering wheel. Her car door opened, and Beth was soon pulling on her arm.
“Come on, Lot. You can’t stay in there forever. You’ll feel better after we talk things over.”
“My life is a mess.”
“I know it is, babe. Now, come on.”
Lottie flung one foot out the door and stomped the ground.
“Oh boy, she’s in a mood today.”
She looked up at Beth. “You better watch out. Remember, I’m a person that punches people now.” Lottie twisted her other foot out of the car and held out the bruised knuckles of her right hand.
“He deserved more than a punch. He needs his dick cut off with bolt cutters. Does he have radar for fucking shit up for you or what?”
“You wouldn’t need a bolt cutter for him. A hole punch would work.”
Beth screamed and laughed, clutching her sides and doubling over. “Are you telling me that Douche has a small dick?”
Lottie grinned and shrugged. “A skinny one.”
“Ew! Skinny dicks are the worst! It’s like being fucked with a pencil. Oh, Lottie, please tell me you’re not considering taking him back. You need to find a man with some girth, and something tells me Grant is a meaty man.”
“I doubt he’s going to want anything to do with me now. I was mortified. And I didn’t know what to do. I stood there like an idiot. I never know the right things to say until long afterward, and then I just kick myself for the way I acted and replay how awesome my way-too-late response would’ve been.” Lottie climbed out of the car and closed the door with her hip. Beth handed her Pickles’s leash.
“Tell me what your perfect response would have been. Let’s start walking and burn off some frustration. And don’t tell me you don’t want to burn calories, too. I know you’ve finally started noticing a difference in your body in that dress last night.”
Lottie stopped in her tracks. “Speaking of the dress. I got blood on it when I punched David. I rinsed it in cold water right away, but I’m worried it’ll be stained.”
“Casualty of justice and well worth it. I’m sure it’s fine. Now walk.” Beth charged forward.
Lottie caught up, surprised at how much eas
ier it had become to keep up with Beth just from the small amount of time she’d been exercising more and cutting out the fast food. Although a burger and fries sounded great now. Maybe she could talk David into Fat Daddy’s rather than Roma’s.
“But seriously, Lottie. You’re not going to take him back, are you?”
“I’m not even sure if that’s what he wants.”
“Well, what did he say exactly?”
“He hugged me and said, ‘I’m glad we can start over again,’ but I don’t know what he meant by that. He wants me to write him while he’s deployed. He said Veronica isn’t the writing type. But does that mean he misses me and he’s disappointed with her?”
Beth growled. “That’s cryptic as fuck. It sounds like he wants to get back together with you, but it doesn’t sound like they’re breaking up or wouldn’t he have just said so?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll find out at lunch.”
“Are you going to call Grant before you go?”
“I don’t know. You know, he butt-dialed me last night, and it sounded like he was at a club or something. All I could hear was loud music, muffled talking, and a woman laughing. Do you think he went out with someone else instead?”
“Oh, I doubt that. He really likes you.”
“He certainly wasn’t sitting around thinking about it. Cleary, he went somewhere and had a good time.”
Beth stopped, crossed her arms, and cocked her head. “What would you do if you were him? You’d probably call me, and I’d take you out somewhere to get your mind off it and you would go. That doesn’t mean you’d forget about him and have fun, right?”
“I guess.” Lottie pursed her lips.
Easy Love Page 15