“Just make sure you meet in a public place and don’t get into a car with him,” Margot warned. “You have to be careful.”
I picked up my Cosmo and took a much-needed drink. “I’m always careful.”
“Yes, but you’re also very trusting,” she said. “Too trusting sometimes.”
I sighed. “That’s what he said.”
“Theo said that?” Margot asked. “How would he know?”
“Was he judging you for hiring him?” Jaime demanded.
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t that. And he might have just been teasing me. Because he also said he knows why I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“What the fuck?” Jaime sat up taller in her chair. “I’d have punched him.”
“What on earth did he say?” Margot asked.
“Oh, something about my being scared to meet the perfect person because I don’t think I’ll measure up,” I said, trying to play it off like it was nonsense. “He said I was afraid of rejection, so I don’t really give anyone a chance.” I rolled my eyes. “Ridiculous, right?”
Neither of them answered quickly enough.
“Isn’t it?” I asked, panic invading my tone.
They looked at each other and then at me. “Well, it’s ridiculous that he said that to you,” Margot began, “but I’m not sure he’s completely off.”
“What?” I looked at Jaime. “What do you think?”
She looked nervous, which was rare for her. “I definitely agree he’s a dick for saying that to you, but I might want to hire him as a marketing strategist, because it seems like he’s really good at reading people in a short amount of time.”
“Seriously?” I looked back and forth between them. “You guys think he’s right? I haven’t fallen in love yet because I’m scared?”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason you haven’t found someone,” Margot said gently. “But I do think there’s some truth in what he said about you being afraid of rejection, so maybe you don’t give yourself a chance to fall in love. Like maybe you talk yourself out of it.”
“On purpose? Why on earth would I do that?” This was unbelievable!
Jaime shrugged. “It might not be on purpose. Sometimes I think our subconscious works against us or something. Your brain is like, Yes, I want to find someone so I’m going to go on this date, and your heart goes, But wait, this is scary and I could get hurt. So you look for things wrong with the person, reasons why they’re not the right one. We’ve all done it.”
I inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm.
“I think it goes beyond dating, too,” Jaime went on. “You’re brilliantly talented, and for as long as I’ve known you, your dream has been to sell your artwork, or at least display it somewhere, but you haven’t done that yet, either.”
“I’m going to,” I said defensively. “Jeez, you guys.”
An awkward silence hung among us, which was rare.
Margot touched my hand, her blue eyes full of concern. “I’m sorry if we hurt your feelings. We didn’t mean to.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Jaime said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m an asshole.”
I took a shaky breath. “I’m OK. It’s just not terribly pleasant to hear that your friends—and a complete stranger, which means it’s probably obvious to everyone but me—think I’m sabotaging all my dreams because I’m a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” Jaime said fiercely. “You’re just careful. But you’re also beautiful and wonderful and gifted and we just want everyone to know it. Be brave! Put yourself out there!”
“I hear what you’re saying. I just don’t know how to do that.” I frowned. “I wish I was more like my sister.”
Jaime rolled her eyes. “I said brave, not egomaniacal.”
I managed a small smile. “I’ll try.”
“You sure you’re OK?” Margot asked.
“Yes. Look, it’s not really anything I didn’t know—I’ve been a Nervous Nellie all my life. There’s a reason I don’t get on airplanes, horses, or motorcycles. I’m not a thrill-seeker. And normally I’m fine with it. I’m probably oversensitive right now because I feel like I’m surrounded by happy couples, and I’m the misfit. The odd one out.”
“You’re not.” Jaime was adamant.
“Of course you’re not,” Margot added.
I was, but it wasn’t their fault and I didn’t want them to feel guilty about being happy and in love. “Let’s talk about something else.” I turned to Margot and put on a smile. “Tell me what’s new with the wedding.”
While she filled Jaime and I in on how all the final details were shaping up, I found myself getting swept up in the romantic excitement. Although they’d considered getting married up at the farm, in the end Margot had caved to her mother’s insistence that she get married at Fort Street Presbyterian, where five previous generations of Thurber women had tied the knot. She’d chosen a ballroom at the Westin Book Cadillac Hotel downtown for the reception. “Wait until you see the centerpieces. They’re gorgeous,” she gushed. “And the invitations came out beautifully.”
With Margot’s sophisticated taste—and unlimited budget—I had no doubt the whole affair would be exquisite from start to finish.
Jaime and I were throwing her a surprise shower next month. It was a challenge since Margot liked to micro-manage every little thing, but we’d gotten her to set aside the date by telling her we wanted a spa day and “booking” a bunch of fake appointments. In reality, we were throwing her a champagne brunch, which included all different kinds of scones—a little inside joke about the time Margot had lost her cool at a party and hurled a bunch of scones at her ex-boyfriend.
It made me laugh every time I thought about it. She was normally the calmest, classiest woman in any room. Bad behavior was completely out of character for her. But if she hadn’t thrown those scones, she wouldn’t have had to leave town. And if she hadn’t left town, she wouldn’t have met Jack at the farm.
Maybe that’s what they meant by being brave—doing something different. Something surprising and out of character. Something that invigorated me, forced me off the usual path, opened my eyes to new possibilities.
But what?
* * *
My mother had called while we were having dinner, and I called her back on my way home, wondering what Christmas tune her ring tone was today. Holidays were like catnip to my mother, especially Christmas, so she was always in a good mood in December. Nothing made her happier than getting ready for the holidays, and she still carried on all the traditions of my childhood, even though Giselle and I were grown and out of the house. She still hung our stockings, moved the Elf on the Shelf around, and put out cookies for Santa. I swear if you cut her open, she’d probably bleed tinsel.
“Hi, honey!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“How was dinner with the girls?”
“Great.” I caught her up with Margot’s wedding plans, and she sighed.
“How fun to plan a wedding! Muffy must be in heaven,” she said wistfully.
Muffy was Margot’s mother. “Message received, Mom.”
“I’m not rushing you, honey. I just think it would be a fun thing to do, plan a wedding.”
“Well, maybe Giselle will announce another engagement soon. One that actually sticks.”
“Is she seeing someone new?” my mother asked, her voice full of hope.
“Not that I know of.” I’d talked to my sister last week and she’d told me about a threesome she’d just had, but I didn’t think my mom wanted to hear about that. “Anyway, did you call earlier?”
“Yes, I was just planning Christmas Eve dinner and I wonder if you’d make Grandma Flossie’s chocolate pudding.”
“Sure.” That pudding was a pain, but if I suggested making something easier, my mom would probably have a stroke. Christmas wasn’t Christmas without Grandma Flossie’s pudding! “What’s Giselle bringing?” I asked, although I knew the answer.
; “Well, she’s flying in that morning, so she can’t really make anything. And she’s such a disaster in the kitchen, I’m not sure I’d ask her to prepare a dish, anyway.”
“Right.” I tried not to resent all the chores Giselle had always gotten out of doing because she feigned incompetence so well. Being a good actress was really useful in life, not just on stage.
“OK, dear. Talk soon.” She made her customary two-air-kiss noise and ended the call, and I tossed my phone on the passenger seat, feeling vaguely annoyed with myself for not telling my mother I wanted to make a pie instead of the pudding, or that it bothered me that Giselle never had to help with family dinners.
And maybe my mother hadn’t meant to dig at me with that wedding comment, although she was skilled at dropping hints and pretending to be innocent. But she also made no secret of the fact that she wanted grandchildren and thought she’d have them by now. One by one, all her friends were marrying off their sons and daughters and becoming grandmothers. It had become somewhat of a competitive sport among them.
Since Giselle always claimed she didn’t want kids, that left me as the only player in my mother’s lineup. Sorry about your bad luck, Mom.
That night I lay awake in bed, trying to think of possible ways to be more adventuresome, break out of my shell. For inspiration, I pictured Margot throwing those scones, and it hit me—the lipstick.
Margot always wore bold red lipstick. Maybe it wasn’t the reason she was so confident, but it didn’t hurt. When I thought about it some more, I realized Giselle often wore bright red lip color too. Hell, even Taylor Swift started dating more interesting men when she adopted crimson lips.
That’s what I needed! Stage makeup! Something to make me feel like I fit the part of the confident, successful woman I wanted to be.
I brought my fingertips to my mouth and tried to picture myself with a candy apple pout like Giselle affected in all her selfies. It would definitely be something different for me. Since I had really full lips and generally didn’t like to call attention to them, I usually stuck to neutrals, soft beiges and pinks with names like Sweetie and Blush. But now I needed something more daring, something with a name like Brash or Brazen or Badass.
I laughed to myself…this could be fun.
Seven
Theo
* * *
Balancing two bags of groceries on each arm, I trudged through the snow up the front walk at my brother and sister-in-law’s small, one-story house. I’ll shovel while I’m here. And she needs salt for the driveway, too.
On the front porch, I set the bags on my right arm down and knocked on the door. Inside I could hear someone crying and someone else shrieking, “He’s here!” A moment later two little girls appeared in the front room window over to my right. They stood between the curtain and the glass, which was smudged with handprints, waving excitedly at me. “Hi, Uncle Theo!” shouted Ava, who was six. Her little sister Hailey grinned and jumped up and down like I was Santa Claus at their doorstep. It made my heart squeeze—would Josie be able to give the girls a good Christmas? I’d make sure of it.
Damn you, Aaron. Get clean and get the fuck home. My brother was an alcoholic like our dad had been, and even though he’d been on the wagon during the early years of his marriage, sobriety went out the window when he’d been laid off two years ago. He’d been on an almost constant bender since, and he hated himself for it, but he felt like he couldn’t change.
He wasn’t violent like our father was, and the only person he ever got mad at was himself, but when I tried to explain to him that he caused his family harm when he took off, he refused to listen. They’re better off without me, he’d say. I’m no good for them. He’d been gone for nearly two months this time, and even though he stuck an occasional envelope of cash through the mail slot, it wasn’t much. Josie worked the night shift as a waitress, but damn near her entire paycheck went to the sitter. And she was exhausted all the time.
I loved my brother, and I understood why he was the way he was, but I wanted to fucking punch him in the face until he realized what an idiot he was to throw all this away. Maybe this house wasn’t much, and hell yes life was tough when you were out of work and had a wife and three kids, but dammit—it was his house, and his wife, and his kids. They adored him. He had things worth fighting for, worth staying for. And the crazy thing was, I knew he loved them. It wasn’t like he didn’t care. So it scared the living fuck out of me that he could abandon them like he did. Like our mother had left us. Maybe he was wired to be that way. Maybe we both were.
One more reason for me to go it alone in life.
The front door opened and my sister-in-law appeared with crying toddler Peyton on her hip. Josie looked awful—skin sallow, dark circles under her eyes, thin dark hair escaping the ponytail on the top of her head.
Claire’s thick, honey-colored waves popped into my head. I wondered if they were as soft as they’d looked yesterday. Jesus, will you stop thinking about her? You’ve already jerked off to her twice and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since you met. What’s with you?
“Hi,” Josie said wearily. “Come on in.”
I scooped up the bags at my feet and went inside. The house was basically a box, with a front room and kitchen on one side, two bedrooms and a bathroom on the other. I noticed they didn’t have a Christmas tree as I headed for the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with Peyton?” I asked, setting the bags on the cluttered table. Broken crayons and tattered coloring books littered its surface, and I made a mental note to get them some new ones.
“It’s her ears.” Josie sounded as tired as she looked. “The doctor said the antibiotics should kick in soon, but in the meantime I’m out of Tylenol.”
“I’ll go get you some.” I pulled milk and apples and cheese from one bag. “Just let me get the stuff that needs to be refrigerated put away.”
“You do too much already,” Josie said, peeking in the bags. “I can’t believe all this food. Let me pay you back.”
“Not a chance.”
Ava and Hailey scooted into the room and threw themselves at my legs, wrapping their little arms around me. I shut the fridge, leaned down, and scooped them up, setting one on each arm. “Hey! How’s Snow White and Cinderella?” I asked, planting a kiss on their foreheads. “Are we going to have another tea party?”
“Yes!” Ava shouted. “But I want to be Sleeping Beauty this time.”
“Deal.” I looked at Hailey, noticing she wore a fuzzy pink sweater sort of like Claire had worn yesterday. “You gonna make me eat the poison apple again?”
She giggled. “Yes!”
I heaved an exaggerated sigh as I set them down. “Fine. I’m gonna run an errand for your mom real quick, but when I get back, we’ll play. OK?” They nodded and hopped back up onto chairs at the kitchen table to resume coloring.
“Have you heard from him?” Josie asked me over the sound of Peyton’s weeping. The hope in her voice made my throat get tight. No matter what he did, she loved him and wouldn’t hear of splitting up. She had family in Ohio, an aunt and some cousins, and I sometimes suggested she take the kids and go there so she’d have more support, but she refused to leave. I didn’t get it.
“No.” I focused on putting groceries away, biting back the angry words I wanted to say. Josie didn’t need to hear me cuss out my brother. It wouldn’t feel good and wouldn’t help. “I take it you haven’t either?”
“Not in a couple weeks. Just that envelope last Tuesday, but it wasn’t much. I hope he’s OK.”
I shut the fridge and straightened up, turning to her. “He should be here, Josie. Taking care of his family. Making sure you’re OK.”
“He’ll come back,” she said, and I could tell she believed it. “He always does.”
“Have you given any more thought to Ohio?”
“No.” Her mouth was a stubborn line.
“But—”
“No. When you love someone, you don’t leave.”
&nbs
p; “He did.”
Her eyes defied me. “He’s never been taught that lesson.”
“Aren’t you angry with him?”
“Of course I am.” She kissed the top of Peyton’s head. “But he’s suffering, Theo. I know he is. And he’s too ashamed to come home.”
“He should be ashamed.” I was angry and wanted to shout, but I said it quietly so the two older girls wouldn’t hear. “This is not the kind of father he wanted to be.”
“This isn’t him,” Josie insisted. “This person who takes over when he drinks. It isn’t him.”
It was and it wasn’t. I knew what she meant—the Aaron she loved was strong and brave and hard-working. Proud and ferociously protective of his girls. But inside him were demons he couldn’t ignore. He tried to quiet them with booze, but it only made them louder. It was why I’d quit drinking six years ago. “He needs to get sober and stay that way if he comes back.”
“He’ll come back.” Tears filled her eyes. “He’s got to.”
Something about the way she said it made my hair stand on end. I dropped my eyes to her stomach. “You’re pregnant.”
“Shhh.” She threw a worried glance over her shoulder at Ava and Hailey. “I haven’t told the girls yet.”
“Does Aaron know?”
She nodded tearfully. “I told him last time he called. I shouldn’t have. I think I made things worse.”
My hands balled into fists. It killed me that she thought this was her fault. “You didn’t. When are you due?”
“Early July, I think? It must have happened last time he was home, which was September.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “We had those few good weeks.”
Damn you, Aaron. “Have you been to the doctor?”
“Not yet.”
“Make an appointment.”
“But I can’t aff—”
“Make. An appointment. I’ll cover the cost. And turn the heat up, it’s too cold in here for the kids.” My tone left no room for argument.
Pressing my lips into a grim line, I brushed Peyton’s matted blond hair from her face before heading for the front door. “I’m going to get the Tylenol and some salt for the driveway. Be right back.”
If You Were Mine Page 4