by Taryn Quinn
I shut my eyes as the word firm teased out a memory of Seth shifting in the booth as he explained his plans for me. When he’d stood over me, there had been little doubt he meant what he said. Oh, the dark denim masked most of his…situation, but there was a bulge behind his zipper that I had to stop thinking about.
“Where are you?” Sage’s voice rang out from the front of the tiny house. She really just had to walk in a small circle and she’d find me.
“Here,” I called out.
“Should I worry that you’re on the floor?”
I peered at the doorway, but instead of Sage’s face, there was a huge arrangement of lilacs and daisies tucked into a copper watering can.
I didn’t need to look at the card to know it was from Seth. My head thunked back onto the hardwood. “Dammit.” I slung my arm back over my face. Why the hell did he have to remember both me and my mama’s favorite flowers?
Couldn’t he be like the guys I heard my friends complain about? The clueless boyfriends or husbands who bought them a vacuum instead of a bracelet for an anniversary?
That guy was easy to ignore.
This one?
Not so much.
Add in thirteen years of being my best friend and I was friggin’ toast.
“Where do you want me to put this? And why don’t you have any furniture?”
I hauled myself off the floor. “By the door is fine. In fact, put it in your car and take it home.”
Sage put down the jumbo watering can. “I will take it home, but only because it’s your home now too. Or did you forget that little fact?”
“Of course not.” I tucked a stray curl out of my face and back into my fraying French braid. Like a damn homing beacon, I couldn’t stop myself from crossing to the flowers. I brushed the back of my knuckles along the delicate lilac petals before curling my fingers back into my dirty palms. A fine layer of dust caked my hands, arms, and knees from packing and hauling boxes. “And that’s why I didn’t need all this stuff.”
“We could have put it in storage,” Sage said with a flutter of hands.
I dabbed at the sweat on my forehead. I needed a shower something fierce. “None of it was worthy of storage.”
Her huge green eyes were about a blink away from tears. “There has to be something you want to keep.”
“Would that be the cracked Walmart lamp, or the sagging wicker round chair circa 1994?”
“Stop. You can’t throw everything away, dammit.”
Sage actually stomped her foot. It was sort of cute in a fluffy half unicorn, half pixie kind of way. The unicorn half was the one that had a little mettle behind her words. She wasn’t a pushover, even if she was the sweetest, most fanciful woman I knew.
“Some kids from the university came and took me up on my bargain basement deals.”
“You didn’t use Craigslist.”
When I didn’t disabuse her of that little statement, her eyebrows shot up.
“Are you insane? And why didn’t you wait until I got here?”
I shrugged. “Not like I couldn’t handle myself.”
“You are on a semi-secluded road a quarter mile away from the main road and the lake. Anything could have happened.”
“Okay, Ann Rule.”
“Don’t joke. We watch those shows together, woman. Anything could have happened. They could have kidnapped you and put you in the back of their van—”
“Before you get all bent, there was no van, Scooby Doo Magical Mystery van or otherwise. They had an old rusted truck with a flatbed that wouldn’t even close properly. The most exciting part of the whole endeavor was us wrestling with bungee cords to get them safely back onto the highway.”
Sage tipped back her head. “You’re incredible.”
“Thank you.”
She shoved me. “Not funny.”
“A little funny.”
Her lips twitched, but she managed to keep a straight face.
“Aww, come on, Sage.” I hooked an arm around her hips before wrinkling my nose and pulling away. “Sorry, I’m too dirty to be touching you.”
She hauled me in for a hug. “Dusty is part of moving. At least you smell like sunshine. How you doin’, girl?”
“God, I doubt it.” But I hooked an arm around her and hugged her back. When the lump I’d been jamming down my throat and belly started to rise up, I eased away from her. “I’m okay.” At least I would be as long as she didn’t look at me with those big leafy green eyes puddled with tears.
“My mom sent over some food for us.”
“Not diner food?”
She laughed. “Not diner food.”
“God bless her. Though it’s Mother’s Day, she shouldn’t be cooking. And God, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be here helping me on her day.”
Sage waved me off. “We all made her a big French Toast breakfast.”
As Sage spoke, I wandered over to the box half-full of the crocheted blankets my mom used to wear when she sat out here. No matter how warm or cold it was, she was forever bundled under the rainbow patchwork blanket.
That I would keep.
And a few others.
Okay, all of them. I could get rid of most of the junk we’d collected over the last six years, but not those.
Sage pulled the blanket out and buried her nose in the ancient yarn. I had to turn away again and suck in a long, slow breath.
I was not going to cry.
I’d already done that when I’d folded them up the first time. The lavender essential oils she’d been using at the very end had become her scent. As soothing and soft as her tissue paper skin.
My phone buzzed again, distracting me from thoughts better left in the past.
I’d been in denial mode for days. Three of his messages were still on my notifications. Every time I caught a glimpse of them, I flipped my phone over and ignored.
Even swiping them away, I’d have to read something.
Nope and nope.
“Still ignoring him?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, if you don’t want to talk about the house or your mom, then jackass is the next best thing.”
I rolled my eyes as I lifted onto my toes to reach the clock on the wall. Though Sage was all about finding Mr. Right, she thought Seth was an entitled pain in the ass with a cocky attitude. Some of that probably had to do with her even worse opinion of Seth’s brother.
And, yes, Seth was most of those things, but even when he was being a complete jackass, he was still better than most men I knew. There were some rose-colored glasses involved. I could admit that much, but then he went and did things like the flowers.
I fought the urge to touch them again. No. I wasn’t going to dwell.
Instead I brought the clock with me as I crossed the room. Carefully, I tucked the old starburst cabinet between two of the blankets. It might be hideous, but she’d loved the rose-gold clock. We’d moved a few times over the years and it always went with us.
In fact, she’d stolen it from a tacky hotel when I was seven. Back when my dad had still been around. We’d stayed in places like that most of my life until he finally disappeared for good. She’d taken that clock and the fifty bucks he’d left us and we’d driven east until we landed in the middle of New York.
And that was where we stayed.
Our life had been penny pinching and extra shifts and crappy little apartments until I’d scraped together enough to get us this house. When the doctor had told me—told us—that she didn’t have much time.
She’d survived for five more years just because of Crescent Lake. Looking out of the sagging screen windows of the four seasons room had been her little piece of perfection.
I crossed to the La-Z-Boy chair she’d lived in for the last six months. Getting in and out of a bed had been too difficult for her, but she’d always wanted to be by her window. So I had made sure she had all her blankets and her window and her lake view.
It had been worth all her savings and mine too.
Every damn penny.
I jumped when Sage tipped her head against my shoulder. I rested mine against the crown of her head. “Today sucks.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said softly.
We stayed like that for I don’t even know how long. Until my belly started howling its distress. Food didn’t sound good at all these days, but man, the idea of something that wasn’t on the Rusty Spoon’s menu sounded glorious.
“What did your mom pack for us?”
Sage grinned. “Chicken and dumplings.”
“Oh, man.”
“Comfort food at its best. Still have plates?”
“I can scrounge some up if you go get the food.”
Sage waggled her eyebrows. “Deal.” She crossed the room and paused at the threshold to the living room. “I didn’t forget my question, even if you’re ignoring it.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t give me that innocent face, Alison Marie Lawrence. I’m not done.”
“Plates!” I said in a singsong voice.
She blew raspberries before she banged out the front door.
I sagged against the ledge of the half wall beneath the screen window. The problem with having a friend like Sage was that she liked to talk about feelings. Especially of a romantic nature.
The girl was in love with love.
So much so that she’d had a parade of boys, then eventually men, in her life. They never stuck around long because they invariably couldn’t live up to Sage’s high standards of romance. You just weren’t going to find a Prince Charming in Crescent Cove.
I certainly hadn’t. Though my issues might have had something to do with my caretaker status since high school. And meeting Seth.
He didn’t even know he’d ruined me for other men. Without a touch other than a platonic hug or a game of touch football, I’d been his.
Pathetic.
So yeah, his current mission to steer me into Babytopia by way of his very impressive master bedroom had me ready for first place in track and field at the other end of the county.
Which was impressive since my idea of running generally consisted of dodging Sage, Amber, and Jean on National Pancake Day at the diner. Pretty much the only day every waitress was working.
“Okay, where are those plates? I’m starving.”
I blinked out of my rambling musings. Honestly, there had to be something in the air.
I met Sage in the kitchen and pulled down two large bowls from the cabinet I hadn’t quite emptied out. I had to dig through two boxes to find something to eat with.
A serving fork and slotted spoon for vegetables would have to do.
Sage laughed when I handed her the spoon. “Remember when I moved into my place and couldn’t find the silverware?”
I flipped over a bucket and pulled over a box to serve as a makeshift table. “God, yes. We scoured your apartment. We even left the house to go to Target and buy another set.”
“Mom called to let me know the box was still sitting under the kitchen table.”
“Heaviest freaking box too.” I stopped at the kitchen sink and washed my hands and arms with soap.
“Of course, it had to have all my silverware and pots.”
I turned around and leaned against the counter as I dried my hands. “It took two of us to get it up those stairs.”
“And then it busted twenty feet from the door.” Sage transferred a healthy portion of the gravy-slathered chicken into my bowl. My stomach roared in reaction. She laughed and put on another spoonful. “Might need to zap it.”
I took the bowl and shoveled a dumpling into my mouth.
“Guess not.”
I grinned around a bite. “So good.”
“So are you going to tell me what’s up with Seth?”
I choked on a bite and stood to grab my Coke Zero out of the fridge. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Yeah, I believe that as much as Mitch’s promise of a Friday night off.”
“You get one?”
“Yeah, first Friday of never followed by when hell freezes over.”
I laughed and took a longer sip of my soda before sitting back behind the cardboard palace. I forked in a regular-sized bite and chewed slowly.
“While I appreciate you not talking with your mouth full, I’m not reframing the question.”
“He’s my best friend, Sage. It ain’t happening.”
“What isn’t?”
“Us. We aren’t happening.” That wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all, but Sage took the ball and ran with it as if I wasn’t talking crazy talk.
“Yeah, but you’re simply biding your time on the sidelines. From what I’ve seen lately, he’s finally gotten his hormones engaged.”
That was the problem. He was only acting on an unexpected case of hormones and some misplaced sense of duty. Laurie wanted a sibling and Seth never knew how to tell his daughter no. At least not about this kind of thing.
And he knew I loved that little girl as much as he did. Dirty pool with a side of emotional blackmail.
Oh, and couldn’t forget the left turn into naked time.
Nope.
But then he’d ruined it with a contract attached to my damn uterus.
My soda frothed over the top of the lip. I hadn’t realized I was squeezing the bottle so hard.
Sage instantly crossed the room for a paper towel. “Oh, yeah. Nothing going on.” She handed me a wad of them.
I crouched with a disgusted sound and mopped up the sticky mess before washing up and returning to our table.
Sage spooned up a dainty portion as I hacked at mine with the three oversized tines of my fork. I’d sold off my silverware since I wasn’t going to need it at Sage’s place.
“Things are weird, okay?”
She widened her green eyes comically. “Obviously, they’re weird. I want to know why they’re weird.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Did you trip over his big feet and fall on his dick?”
“Oh, my God.”
Sage dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Did you guys finally do the deed? You’ve been holding onto that V-card forever.”
“You should talk. Yours is as intact as mine, pal.”
Sage scooped up a roasted carrot. “Yes, but I’ve been trying to give mine away. You’ve been holding yours hostage.”
“I have not.”
Sage gave me a bland look.
“Not on purpose.”
“Hey, it makes sense. You’ve had your focus split in a few different directions.”
“Why are we talking about this?” I asked and stabbed a potato.
“Because that’s my only guess for this weird behavior.”
“Oh, honey. You don’t even know how weird shit has gotten.”
“Then enlighten me. Because I need to know why you aren’t over with Seth and Laurie like you usually are on Mother’s Day.”
I bowed my head. If I thought about things too closely, then the guilt was going to choke me. I might be having trouble with Laurie’s father, but that didn’t mean it was fair to stay away from his daughter in retribution.
I yanked the tie out of my braid and sifted my fingers through the tangle of waves before I knotted my hair on top of my head. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated came and went about ten years ago, hon.”
I didn’t know if I should tell her. The fact that I was going to say no made the point fairly moot.
I was saying no. I had to.
Didn’t I?
Grumbling, I pushed my dish away and banged my forehead on the box.
“Okay, you have to tell me.”
“Seth wants a kid.”
“He has a kid. A cute one, if a little bit of a handful.”
“She’s bright and funny and really wants a little sister or brother.”
Sage’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”
“He wants me to have it.”
&n
bsp; “I’m sorry? Come again?”
“He wants me to give him a kid.”
“What? Like a piece of chocolate?”
I laughed. It was either that or cry. “So you see my dilemma.”
“Not really. You already want to play Boom-Boom Room with him. This sounds perfect. You guys would make a cute couple. I mean, he can be annoying, and the idea is a bit weird, but—”
“He doesn’t want us to be a couple. He just wants me to carry a baby for him and then hand it off to him like a fruitcake at Christmas.”
“Huh.”
“Yep.”
“I think we might need wine.” She rose and went to the fridge where a box of wine was stuffed down on the bottom shelf. She hauled it onto the counter and pulled out jelly glasses from the skinny cabinet.
When she set a glass in front of me, I took a swig of the sweet white wine. The shock on her face helped with my own insanity. It wasn’t just me who had a problem with the whole scenario. It was straight-up crazy.
So why couldn’t I just say no?
Four
Seth
“No mo peas.”
Staring at my daughter’s stubborn chin as she shook her head in refusal of the healthy vegetable I’d added to our meals, I briefly reconsidered what I’d asked of Ally.
Did I really want another child?
Hell, could I handle another child? Basically on my own—along with the nanny I employed on workdays—since I didn’t expect Ally to be tied down. She could be as involved as she wanted in whatever capacity she chose, but I’d proceeded as if she would choose minimal involvement. Thinking otherwise made things sticky.
Made me itchy in ways I couldn’t define.
Now I had an almost four-year-old staring me down and a bowl of peas I didn’t even want myself. But good example and all that. And if I wanted another kid, good examples were the rule of the day.
God, was I crazy?
Dutifully, I spooned up my vegetable. “Okay, if you don’t want the rest of your dinner, as soon as I finish, we’ll get you upstairs for your bath. School tomorrow. Mrs. O’Connor said you’re drawing mermaids this week. That will be fun.”
“No bath.” Laurie pushed at her plate and inched back in her chair, step one in lurching to the floor.
She still wasn’t the best at climbing, but she liked sitting at the big table without a highchair. As small as she was, she’d used one longer than some kids, but now she was done with it.
