by Raquel Belle
With my plan for the day established, I stand and head up the steps. Mom is visiting a neighbor down the street, so I take the car and head over to Marcy’s. She’s delirious with happiness when she opens the door and sees that it’s me.
“Jazz! Oh!” She squeals and throws her arms around my neck, and then gives me room to pass. “Come in, come in!”
She has a neat home, with everything in place, and all the furniture and accessories are perfectly coordinated. Red and green garland is still hanging from the fireplace and over the doors. The small Christmas tree is laden with ribbons, tinsel and ornaments…and there are light stands next to the fireplace.
Her home is warm, and I follow her to the chocolate brown sofa accessorized with beige, burnt-orange, and yellow cushions. I feel warm and cozy as I sink into the soft seating and look at a bubbling Marcy.
“So, how’s it been?” She asks. “I thought I’d see you sooner after you cancelled dinner that Saturday.”
“Oh, I’m so, so sorry about that, Marcy. Maybe we can do something else. I got caught up that day and totally forgot about it. It’s actually been pretty crazy since I’ve been back.”
“It’s fine,” she says, and her rosy cheeks glow as she smiles. “What have you been up to?”
I scrunch up my face because I know what’ll come after I say it. “Trip’s been my honorary tour guide.”
“Ah,” she says, knowingly, and giggles. “How’s that going?”
“I don’t know. It’s nice, but I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere after I leave. Maybe we’ll just fall back into old patterns and forget about each other.”
“I doubt that,” she says, and adjusts her shirt. “You were the one couple everyone thought would get hitched first. When Trip left, I knew that move did you a solid one.”
I groan and fall back on the sofa. “You have no idea.”
She’s silent, and when she doesn’t say anything for a while I roll my head to the side and check her out. “What?”
“Nothing. Just looking at how different you are.”
“I’m not different,” I say. “I’m pretty much the same. By the way, where are the girls? Nyla and Alana, right?”
“You do remember,” she says and rocks into me. “They’re at the store with Tony, probably making him wish he’d let them stay home.”
I laugh. “I bet. It’s your day off?”
“Oh, I don’t really work anymore. I help Tony at the shop sometimes, with the books and payroll, and stuff like that. But I’m mostly home.”
“And it’s a lovely home, Marcy,” I say, and notice the chandelier hanging over the vintage seven-piece dining table in the other room.
She snickers. “Tony’s the furniture man. Gotta have the best, right?”
“You bet,” I say and raise up.
“I was planning on staying home today and relaxing, but you know what?” She says and jumps up. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving all of a sudden.”
I laugh, softly. “Nana’s?”
“Yeah. Give me a second to go change,” she says and touches my shoulder before she hurries off.
I get up after her and go over to the fireplace where photos of her and her family are displayed on the mantle. A large framed photo hangs above it displaying her and Tony on their wedding day. She was grinning from ear to ear that day. I smile as I remember how happy she was. I pick up a photo of her daughters at what looks like a county fair—there’s an image of a merry-go-round in the background, and their lips are red and blue from cotton candy—I think.
She appears behind me, as I’m replacing the picture. “They ate so much that day, they had a stomach ache. Told them it served them right for chowing down on that much cotton candy and gum.”
I giggle and turn. She isn’t wearing the loose white T-shirt as before. Now she has on a pair of faded, ripped-jeans, and a soft-yellow shirt with the top two buttons open. Her long, brown hair falls down over her breasts in elegant braids.
“That was quick,” I say. “I’d need fifteen minutes, at least.”
She laughs. “Not me. I don’t need more than five minutes, unless I’m showering. Come on. We can use your car.”
She’s animated and chatting about Tony and the kids and asking questions about New York all the way to Nana’s. I don’t mind the conversation, and it really is a refreshing change. I’m trying hard not to think about Trip…but I know I’m attempting the impossible. And I’m afraid to confront him now because I know he’ll want an answer, and I’m not sure what it will be.
“Here we are,” Marcy says and slides out of the car.
There aren’t many customers parked outside. It’s a work day after all…and past the lunch hour. So, not many people would be here anyway. Which is great, considering all the interruptions the last time I was here with Trip.
I sigh. There I go again, thinking about him.
The bell jingles overhead when we walk into the diner. Trisha sees us right away and hurries over. She throws her arms around me like we’re tight-knit friends, but she barely says hi to Marcy. I won’t even ask what’s going on there. Not even Willow Creek is immune to the childish nuances that plague a big city.
“Are you staying for lunch?” Trisha says.
“Yep,” Marcy says, forcing Trisha to look at her.
“Okay,” she says and turns, her hair swishing across her shoulders. “Right this way.”
Marcy rolls her eyes, and we follow Trisha to a two-seater table by the window.
Trisha readies her pad of paper and pen. “So, ready to order?”
“We just got here,” Marcy says.
I raise my eye brows but remain silent. There’s definitely something going on with these two. Trisha stares dryly at her and then turns to me, instantly donning a smile. “Juice? Water?”
“Thanks. I’ll take a strawberry-lemonade.”
“Good,” she says and scribbles it onto her pad and bounces off, totally ignoring Marcy.
“Okay, what’s going on there?” I have to ask—curiosity is eating me alive.
Marcy groans and throws daggers at Trisha. “Ugh…I’ve never really liked her.”
I glance back at Trisha. “She isn’t so bad.”
“Well, maybe to you, but I don’t like the way she’s been latching on to Trip since he got back. I mean, he and Derrick were best friends. That’s just not a classy thing to do.”
I’m taken aback. “What do you mean? Trip just helps her out with the boys and with groceries and stuff like that. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Look, I know she has it rough. God knows, I struggle with my girls at times, and I have a husband. I couldn’t imagine doing it all without Tony.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Just give her a break.”
Marcy looks at me like I’m the idiot. “Give her a break? Don’t tell me you’re okay with her coming on to Trip.”
“Coming on… No, I think you have it wrong, Marcy. Seriously, nothing’s going on between them.”
“Not if she can help it. You’ve been out with Trip, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And how many times has she shown up, or called, or he just had to leave?”
“Hmm.”
“I thought so. Don’t take your eyes off of that one,” Marcy whispers and pulls back as Trisha returns with the drink.
“Thanks,” I say and slide it close to me.
“Ready now?” Trisha says.
“Yeah, I’ll have the tuna salad,” I say. I don’t bother looking at the menu card—I remember there’s nothing there that appeals to me.
“Tuna salad?” Marcy says and laughs. “I’ll have me a double cheese burger with the works and a lemonade.”
I giggle. “You sure you don’t want a milk shake to go with that?”
She laughs and points at me. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Be right back,” Trisha says and hurries off again.
Marcy raises her eyebrows at me, and it prompts me to think about all the
times that Trisha called or showed up when Trip and I were out. She’d called when we were in Nashville. She came out for the tree lighting, and was acting like I was the intruder, and then, there was Christmas.
But how can I blame her? He is single, and she needs someone. Now I feel like a skank for getting in the way.
But I’ve seen the way Trip looks at her. He sees her as nothing more than a friend…as far as I know. Am I wrong about that?
Trisha returns with our orders…and I’m distracted throughout the entire meal. There can’t be any truth to what Marcy is suggesting. Trisha just needs the help, and it’s not like she knew where Trip and I were, or that it was her fault she got sick on Christmas.
“What are you thinking about?” Marcy asks as she slips the last of the burger into her mouth.
“Nothing…”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me, and she stares at me with doubt in her eyes. “Does that nothing have to do with Trisha and Trip, because if you’re going to get your man back, she can’t be in the picture.”
“Marcy, I don’t want to go stirring up trouble. I’m leaving in a couple of days, and Trip’s a grown man. He’s free to do whatever the hell he wants.”
Marcy leans back hard in her chair and laughs. “Well, look at you, acting all mature and shit. You might be blind to what she is because you just got back here, but I’ve been here the whole time. She wants him, and not just for errands.”
“Doesn’t matter…” I say, and my heart races because I find it hard to imagine him with another woman. He’s my Trip, no matter what.
“Okay, you can keep fighting with yourself. I’m going to the restroom. Excuse me,” she says and pushes her chair back.
“Sure,” I say and stick the straw in my mouth.
She’s given me a lot to think about, and I’m doing just that when Trisha sits down in the chair opposite me. I stare at her for a minute without saying anything. Her eyes tell me she’s worrying about something. “Trisha? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I only have a couple of minutes. Just wanted to check in with you. You leave in a couple of days, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Right after New Year’s,” I say, and eye her suspiciously. “Why?”
“No reason. I just didn’t remember when you’d said,” she says, and glances over her shoulder towards the restroom. She’s checking if Marcy’s returning, and with the animosity between them, I can understand why.
“Okay…” I say, and wait for her to say something else. I get the feeling there’s more because she’s fidgety and nervous.
“It’s probably for the best, right? This country-bumpkin life isn’t for you,” she says and looks me over again. “City life suits you much better. I bet you can’t wait to get back to it.”
I snicker. “You have no idea. I miss my rainfall shower, and curling up in my living room watching Desperate Housewives.”
“Sounds good. Maybe one day we can come visit you there.”
“Yeah, sure. Absolutely,” I say. “Just say the word. I have lots of room.”
“Okay. I’ll be sure to come by before you go,” she says and quickly stands when she sees Marcy returning.
“Take care, Trisha,” I say, as she walks away. She hurries over to another couple when they walk into the diner.
“What did she want?” Marcy asks me.
“She was just saying hi. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, we’re done. You want to go wash up first? Get all of that tuna off of you?” Marcy winks and then laughs.
“It’s actually quite nice. You should try it,” I say.
“Nah!” She says and scrunches up her nose. “I’d rather eat sandpaper.”
“Come on! It’s not that bad.”
“If you say so. Give me a good ol’ cheese burger any day.”
I giggle and stand. “I’ll be right back.” I grab my phone and walk to the restroom. Before I’m even there, I’m sending Trip a message:
We need to talk.
I wasn’t sure what to say before, but after talking to Marcy and Trisha, it was clear that I no longer belong in Willow Creek. Trip still has a life here and people who depend on him. I can’t be selfish, even if it hurts to lose him again.
I sigh and push the door in. I lean against it…as the first sign of tears sting my eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Trip
We need to talk.
That can’t be good. No pleasant conversation has ever started with “we need to talk.” But it doesn’t matter. I have a few things to tell her too:
Okay. I’m at the shop. Why don’t you come over?
Sure. I’m on my way.
“Mr. Tucker, are you almost done?” The woman asks as she leans out the window. She must have noticed me on the phone.
“Almost,” I say, and tuck the phone back in my pocket. “Just need to check this fuel gauge and a couple of other things and you’ll be on your way.”
“Good,” she says, and bobs her head of raven-black hair. “I don’t want to be late for my flight, but this thing decided to malfunction as soon as I left the house.”
“It happens,” I say, and resume my position under the hood. “But you won’t be late, so don’t worry.”
I’m barely five minutes into checking the fuel connection, when I see Jazz pulling up outside. I look around the raised hood of the car and see her as she gets out and walks into the yard.
“Hey,” she calls to me.
“Just gimme a few to finish this up,” I say. “You can wait in the office.”
“Okay, but I think I’ll just sit over there.”
She points to the stool by the door where Bubba usually sits when the shop is empty. I nod at her, and she walks over to it.
I can’t stop looking at her…the way her hair falls over her face when she’s looking down and checking her phone…or when she lifts her head and sweeps her hair behind her ear.
It gets worse when she stands and starts walking around the shop. She’s wearing jeans that were made for her—the way they cling to her hips and show off the curve of her perfect ass. I feel my cock slowly getting bigger, and I have to look away to stop from embarrassing myself.
I fix my attention to the car and allow the erection to die. The solution lasts as long as I don’t have to look at her, and when I do, our eyes connect. I can see the fire in her eyes, and it stirs my erection again. God…
I hurry through the task of fixing the car, and I’m relieved when I’m done. The lady is ecstatic that she’ll be able to make her flight after all, and I’m more than happy to fix my attention on Jazz.
“So, what’d you want to talk about?” I say, wiping my hands on a rag.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I just…maybe what we’re doing is a bad idea.”
I walk right up to her, so that my body is brushing up against hers. I dip my head and kiss her neck. “Oh, yeah? How come?”
She reaches out and presses her palms to my chest. “This might be a bad idea, okay? Really, I just…”
I start kissing her ear, down her neck, back up and across her lips, forcing her to stop speaking.
“Trip, I’m serious,” she says, in a breathy voice.
“It’s not a bad idea,” I say against her cheek and kiss her there…before tugging at her lips. “You want this as much as I do. Why fight it?”
“I’m not fighting it. This just isn’t logical,” she says, and presses harder against my chest.
I remain firmly planted and grip her sides. “Love isn’t supposed to be logical.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“I intend to make this as hard as I can,” I say, directly against her ear…and I see the goose bumps racing up and down her neck.
I pull back and kiss her lips again, and she responds, briefly, before she lets go and turns her face. “I’m leaving in a couple of days, and you’re not listening.”
“No. You’re no
t listening,” I say. “You and I were meant to be. The fact that you’re fighting it will only make this harder for you, but I know what I want, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let it get taken from me again.”
“I didn’t get taken from you, Trip. You left.”
“Not happening again,” I say, and pull her towards me.
“It doesn’t make any sense. I’m leaving in two days. It won’t work.”
“I’ll follow you anywhere,” I say, and tilt my head with hers, so she has to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”
“Hey, I got a call for you,” Bubba says, loudly, as he comes out of the office. I clench my jaw and close my eyes, regretting that something’s pulling me away from her in such a sensitive moment.
“Can’t you deal with it, Bubba?”
He walks out. “Oh, Jazz, hi.”
“Hi, Bubba,” she says and pries herself away from me.
I’m annoyed. “Who is it?”
“A customer wants to speak with the manager.”
I grind my teeth hard and growl low in my throat. I give her arm a gentle squeeze before walking off. I grab the phone from the desk and take a deep breath before I answer. “This is Tucker.”
“Hi, I just left your shop, and I’m hearing this clanking sound coming from under the car. Do you know what it might be? I don’t want this car to break down on my way to the airport.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale sharply before I answer. “It’s probably nothing, but if you’re really concerned, you can come back and I’ll look at it.”
“I’m ten minutes away from the airport. I’m going to leave the car there until I get back.”
“You should be fine then,” I say and walk to the window, so I can spy on Jazz. She’s leaning against the wall and laughing about something Bubba’s telling her.
“I hope so,” the woman says. “Thanks anyway.”
“No problem, and have a safe flight.”
“Thanks,” she says.
I hit the red button and place the phone on the desk. “Well, that was pointless.”
Jazz turns when she hears the door open, and Bubba disappears around the side of the shop.
