by W Winters
We hide truths like that, don’t we?
“So, weird thing,” I blurt out, cutting off Chloe, who no doubt has something sweet to say, and instead I help her move all the items on the table to the counter as I speak. It’s back to business, back to cooking for this non-worrying dinner. “Did you know Jase has a girlfriend?” I ask them and my tone is so much peppier than I feel. I heard once though, if you speak like you’re happy, you’ll start to feel like it.
“Carter told me a couple of days ago. She’s funny but with a dry sense of humor and she’s very blunt.”
“Sounds delightful,” Chloe jokes.
“She’s also coming to dinner, I think.”
Aria eyes me before grabbing a large bowl from the lower cabinet and I take that as my cue to unwrap Chloe’s cream cheese.
Looks like the dessert will be done before the actual meal at this rate.
“Bastian also mentioned she’s a nurse. Should be good to have one of those in the family.”
“Family,” Aria says and rolls her eyes.
“I didn’t mean in a mob way.”
“Her last name is Fawn,” I comment to no one in particular and unwrap the next bar of cream cheese. “I wonder if she knows if we’re related.”
“Like biologically? Or from… Is your last name your mother’s or did you get that from a…?” Aria stops mid-thought and it’s then that I realize from the look on her face that she was going to say foster family but stopped herself because she thought it would hurt me to hear it. She stopped herself because she knows about the fresh wounds.
She knows because Carter told her.
Or maybe she’s known since I came back. I wonder if Carter told her everything all the way back then.
“You know I still love you, right?” I question Aria and quickly add, “And that I’m happy for you, both of you?” I look between them both, hoping they know it’s true. I may be held together by glue and tape and questioning my decisions, but I know I’m happy for them.
“I know,” Aria answers with kind eyes. She repeats, “I know.”
Daniel
Tyler always hid it from her. He was good at it though.
Tyler’s all I can think about as we sit down at the table. Three brothers and a friend. One brother late, as per usual. Another never coming to a family dinner again.
He didn’t have this problem with Addison. He was good at hiding it. He hid so much from her; I just don’t know how he could do it.
“The candles are a nice touch,” Addison says and smiles warmly at Aria, who does a small curtsy and the three girls let out a peal of feminine laughter.
Addison’s is short, genuine. But it disappears quickly. It’s like the warm water of the ocean, splashing on the tips of your toes before retreating all too soon. I miss it already. I find myself staying still, wanting it to come back.
The day must’ve gone well for her. With a glass of wine in her hand and a beautiful flush in her cheeks, she’s unwinding with the help of the alcohol.
“Just let me smell one more time,” Aria says and inhales close to the large goblet at the same time Carter wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her into his lap. Another wave of giggling leaves the women and then is replaced by soft hums as the other two women are kissed and kiss back, falling into their seats for dinner.
Mine’s already seated, and when I look to her, her lips are on the wineglass. So instead of kissing her, I place my hand over hers on her lap. My fingers slip into the spaces between hers, feeling her soft skin, her warmth. Before she places the glass back on the table, her fingers close around mine, bringing them closer together, and she doesn’t let go. Not until the large bowl of antipasto salad is passed.
“Looks delicious, ladies.” Sebastian’s compliment is rewarded with a story from Aria about how she learned a new recipe for the main dish.
Lasagna, candlelight, and delicate dishes, the hum of chatter and constant smiles. Everything in the room is full of life, but that’s not how I feel. It’s not the reality I’m living in.
If Tyler were here though, he’d fit right in, and that would help Addison. He was good at hiding. He would have been good for her.
I wash the thought away with a single swig of the bourbon in front of me. I try to tell myself he’s on my mind because of what happened recently. And not because I truly think Addison would be better off if he were still here.
It’s not like before. Nothing is. I have to remind myself of that sometimes. The memories of what used to be, the reminder of Tyler and what life was like back then…it’s an ebb and flow of past and present. We’re better now. So long as we’re together. I won’t let anything change that.
Reaching up onto the table, Addison’s grasp is small and comforting when she lays her hand on my wrist. It’s a shock to my system to feel her touch in this moment.
“You okay?” Her question is soft and murmured so no one else can hear.
“Fine,” I answer her because it’s automatic. I don’t tell her more because she doesn’t ask. She doesn’t let go like I expect her to though. She eats with her left hand, leaving her right on mine. And I leave my hand just where it is, needing to feel that warmth, needing to feel her to make all this regret go away.
So long as I have her, it’s all okay. I just need to know I still have her.
Addison
He’s supposed to be the strong one.
The man is supposed to be the rock. That’s what the world leads you to believe, but I think it’s bullshit. Why else would I feel more complete, more grounded when I’m trying to hold Daniel together?
Aria and Chloe put a Band-Aid over my pain. They make me forget temporarily, and that’s worth something. They make me feel like it’s normal to be down right now, and that’s worth even more.
But holding on to Daniel, holding him together, that feels like purpose. It feels like belonging and worthiness. One small touch, and it’s like the pieces have been soldered back together, making them stronger than they ever were before.
Even if it is just holding his hand and smiling with his family, my family.
“Where’s Bethany?” Aria asks and my eyes dart to hers although she’s slipping her fork into her mouth with her focus on Jase. I know she’s asking for my benefit though.
“She couldn’t come tonight, but she’ll be here tomorrow. She’s getting some things adjusted.”
“Adjusted?”
“She went through a hard time.”
His answer quiets the room for a moment until I speak up. “I’d like to meet her.”
Daniel’s hand shifts under mine until the back of it is to the table and his palm is against mine.
“I bet you would,” Carter comments with the hint of a smile.
“You’ll like her,” Jase says after a quick drink from his tumbler. The ice clinks as he sets it down on the table. “I don’t know anything about what Walsh said, but she may know. If not, you’ll still find plenty to talk about.”
“Walsh.” I roll my eyes as I say his name and take a sip of wine as I feel everyone’s eyes on me. The nervousness in the room creeps up a notch. The dark red is sweet, with a hint of lingering decadence. I bring my gaze to Carter’s at the head of the table and tell him simply, “He doesn’t like me much, I don’t think.”
“He doesn’t like me much either.” Jase’s response comes with a huff of a laugh from Sebastian as he sits back into his chair with ease, resting an arm over Chloe’s chair behind her shoulders.
“He has poor taste then,” I offer Jase and that gets me a small laugh from Chloe and her husband. Daniel only observes and half of all my senses are focused on him, focused on me. Everyone’s waiting to see if I’m going to break down again. I can feel it. They’re waiting to see if I’m okay. And I’m not, I know I’m not. But isn’t it okay if I’m not all right?
It sounds like a paradox, but I think it’s more real than anything.
Carter takes a deep breath, then says, “He’s not going anyw
here soon, but he’ll get on board. Or I’ll take care of it.” His darkly spoken words are overshadowed by Jase’s.
“He will,” Jase adds and then tells me he’s sorry that I felt uncomfortable yesterday. That it never should have happened. He tells me he’d never let anything happen to me. None of them would.
They say we’re family, and I know we are.
There’s a pit in my gut though when Aria speaks. “Don’t worry, Addie, we’re in this together.”
“Right,” I say and nod in agreement, then thank God when I bring the glass up to finish the small pool of wine in it when she tells me, “Nothing bad can happen if we’re in it together.”
The glass hides my immediate reaction.
I don’t know why she says it when she knows that’s not true. Bad things happen regardless. Bad things have already happened.
When I set my glass down, I smile at her instead of saying just that. The words still exist though. I can feel them in the tense air. I think everyone can.
Until Chloe stands up abruptly and remembers the cheesecake. She’s sweet enough to bring the rest of the bottle in for me too.
“I can’t get tipsy with both of you out of commission,” I tell her, not wanting to keep drinking in front of them.
“Please, have a glass for me,” Aria requests with a yawn.
“I already did,” I remind her. The wine was her idea, and not a bad one.
“Then have another one for me.” Chloe’s cheerful with her pleading eyes and faux pout as she holds out the bottle.
“Well, how can I say no to that?” I jokingly respond to cut the tension in the room more than anything else.
Another round, a plate of sweets, and the story of how Chloe and Sebastian came to be a couple turns the night around. That and the fact that Daniel pulls me into his embrace. My right side is pressed to his hard, toned body, and his stubble gently scratches my hair as he sets his chin on my head and then kisses my crown.
Maybe it works both ways. Back and forth. The rock thing. That makes it difficult, though, when both people are breaking apart.
Daniel
Her laugh is addictive. It’s my drug. The way her cheeks flush, the way her back arches just slightly and her shoulders shake so gently—it all soothes something inside of me that I don’t even know is broken until that sweet sound seeps into the crevices and calms the hurt that follows me every day.
That’s how I knew I loved her.
The sad, pretty girl who was always around when we were kids smiled easily enough. It wasn’t real though. It was a smile that wanted to be more. She wanted to laugh.
And everything inside of me wanted to hear it. I needed to hear it.
Just like I needed to hear it tonight. Everyone else’s laugh turns to white noise, just like the clinking of the silverware on empty plates and the dull hum of Aria saying something to Carter. All I can hear is Addison’s laugh. All I can watch is how her shoulders curl in, and instinctively, her hand finds my lap.
I’m quick to catch it with my own, to squeeze it gently. When she leans into me, humming a small good night to Chloe as she leaves, I kiss her hair and try to memorize everything about this moment.
It’s perfect like this. This is how it should be all the time. She should laugh every day. She should smile and reach out to me while she catches her breath with the soft murmur of happiness lingering on her lips.
Every day.
It’s easy to say we’re broken. It’s easy to feel the pain. To hold on to this though — the moments I feel what’s really between us — to let ourselves feel it, that’s the easiest thing I can do, and the hardest just the same.
“Night.” Carter’s voice is accompanied by a tight squeeze of my shoulder as they walk behind us.
Addison makes a move to clean up the dishes but Jase reaches for them first, clearing the table and collecting the few remaining dishes in one stack balanced in his left hand. “I got this,” he says with a smirk and winks at her. “You cook, we clean.”
“Thanks,” she tells him and he tells us good night, exiting the room, leaving us to head to bed.
The sound of an empty room is the worst sound. I’ve spent too much of my life in quiet spaces.
“You had a good time tonight.” I hold Addison’s hand as we walk, not wanting to let her go just yet. There were good moments and bad ones too, but I don’t mention the tense ones.
Carter or Jase…whoever it was who thought to have the dinner tonight, was right. We never had dinners growing up, not like this. Not after our mom died and everything happened. I could hardly stand to walk into the eat-in kitchen, let alone sit at the table with hope like I did tonight. “We should do it more often.”
“Yeah. It was fun,” she tells me as we walk down the quiet hall to our wing. The walls are decorated with her photographs. Moments she thought were worthy of capturing on film. Before we get to the bedroom, she stops, lifting her hand from my grasp to touch the edge of a carved black frame mounted against the walls, which are painted a pale dusty blue.
“This one’s my favorite of the ones I took while we were away,” she says softly.
Her fingertips trace over the glass and down the alley that led to the bar where she first saw me again after so many years had passed.
While we were away. Is that the way she thinks of it?
“I think I like the others better.”
“What others?” she says and turns to me quickly, her hair swirling from her shoulder to tumble down her back. Her genuine curiosity makes her eyes widen slightly and it forces my lips to curve up.
“The ones of you in my bed,” I answer her and then quickly nip her lower lip as lust just barely reaches her eyes. My blood simmers with desire for her and the need to touch her always.
“You’re bad, Daniel Cross,” she whispers playfully with passion in her voice as I open the door behind her while letting my lips caress the crook of her neck.
Her eyes are still closed when I pull back. She swallows with a gentle hum and lets her head fall back to rest against the molding that lines the bedroom door.
I find myself trapped in her words. You’re bad, Daniel Cross.
She knew it all along. She can live with that. She can love me still, even knowing all the wretched things I’ve done. It’s this world though, the world she fled and the world I dragged her back to, that’s doing the harm.
I want so badly to blame it on that when I brush the loose strands of her hair off her collarbone with the backs of my fingers so I can kiss her there. I wish I could blame it all on this place. It’s only when I stop touching her that she opens her eyes.
A hint of a smile plays at her lips when she finally looks back at me.
“Come to bed with me.” I give her the command when we get into the bedroom. With the curtains parted, there’s no need to turn on the light. It’s dimly lit, but enough so that I can see her perfectly when my eyes adjust. I can see her standing in the doorway, slow to follow me and hesitant to do what I told her.
Hesitant to come to bed with me.
All she’s thinking about is the sex. It’s not because she’s uncertain if it’s safe; the doctor said it was last week. Our first time getting pregnant was an accident. She’s questioning if we should try for a baby on purpose.
Whether or not we should try again. Whether we should use protection.
Whether she wants this like I do.
Whether she wants me still… I know that’s a question that drifts into her mind when she looks at me like that.
That part of me that doesn’t know it’s broken until she heals me… it’s screaming in pain right now.
“I think I just need to sleep. There’s so much on my mind.” Her excuse falters in the air as she heads to the dresser, taking off her earrings. I can hear them clink in the small ceramic trinket bowl.
“Tell me,” I insist and then clear my throat, pretending like I haven’t been devastated every night she’s looked at me like that and made some kin
d of excuse. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I haven’t processed everything.”
“You can talk it out with me.” I ignore the thump in my chest as I speak. The battering of something hard against my rib cage aches with every small movement.
“Like you talk things out with me?” She turns from the dresser, tense and on the angry side. She seems to realize her quick temper before I can react, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry,” she apologizes in a hushed murmur. When did it get to be like this? Where we can’t talk. The start of a conversation turns into a fight, even if we know we need each other.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looks me in the eyes and says, “I know you would… if…”
I close the distance between us and make my way over to finish the thought for her and say, “If that’s what you wanted.”
“Right,” she breathes, the tension leaving her, her arms falling to her side the moment I place my hand on her hip. “It’s my fault,” she tells me with a harsh swallow.
“Come here,” I tell her and my words come out low and rough. There’s an edge that’s demanding, I know there is. It’s a part of me that I’m trying to soften for her. It’s still a part of me though.
Falling into my chest and pressing her body as close to mine as she can, she breathes so softly I almost don’t hear the admission just under my chin, “I don’t know what I want anymore.” I tighten my hold on her, wishing I could go back to moments ago. When she was laughing and reaching for me. She confesses, “I’m scared.”
It’s the first time she’s shown me this raw sincerity since we lost the baby.
“It’s all right to be scared.” With my arm wrapped around her lower back, I splay my hand against her shoulder and rock her slightly, just slightly. She pulls back a tiny bit, only to see me, her chest to mine. I watch as the moonlight filters in from the subtle movement of the curtains, reflecting in her gaze. There’s so much vulnerability there. Even now. Even after all we’ve been through. How much more can she take?