From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

  The side of his lips hiked in a breathtaking smirk. “Oh, it would have been good, Bree. Real good.”

  “So you always tell me. Though the jury is still out on your follow-through.”

  His mouth gaped in feigned offense, but that damn twinkle in his eyes told me I was in for a long, much overdue night after we got home.

  Laughing, I replied to our son, “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Is dinner almost ready? Starving kids is illegal, ya know!”

  Yep. That was my boy. Five years old and hangry just like his mama.

  “Two minutes!” I shouted back just as the doorbell sounded.

  Rob arched an eyebrow. “Jesus, did he call in reinforcements?”

  “I think it’s Eason. Jessica said he was on his way.”

  His smile returned and he dipped low for another kiss. “In that case, he can wait. Now, where were we?”

  I dodged his mouth. “You get the door for your man child and I’ll feed our actual child before he calls the cops.”

  “Hey,” Rob scolded. “Be nice tonight. Eason’s been planning this for a while.”

  “What? I’m always nice.”

  He frowned and headed out of the kitchen, saying, “Right. Of course. Calling him a man child is the pinnacle of kindness. Your invitation to sainthood is probably already in the mail.”

  I rolled my eyes even as a small seed of guilt sprouted in my stomach.

  Fine. No. I wasn’t always easy on Eason. I didn’t hate him though. He was a good guy, the kind who opened doors and made a point to include everyone in whatever conversation he was animatedly dominating. With all of his sandy-blond hair, warm brown eyes, and a sly one-sided smile that made women lose their minds, he’d hypnotized Jessica right off the bat. Factor in that Jessica was gorgeous with a sharp wit and Eason never stood a chance.

  In theory, your best friend marrying your husband’s best friend was every high school girl’s dream.

  But not with these two.

  Jessica had had a hard life, and whoever was destined to end up with Eason was going to have it even harder while he tried to chase a nearly impossible future. At first, they had been all laughter, longing stares, and wild nights. But a positive pregnancy test and the crash and burn of Eason’s career had put them on thin ice—right where I’d always known they’d end up.

  However, their relationship was none of my business—or so my husband loved to tell me.

  Using an oven mitt, I retrieved the homemade heart-shaped nuggets from the oven and set the cookie sheet on a trivet to cool.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I called up to Asher. “Wash your hands before you come down.”

  I assumed he’d heard me when there was a telltale thud from him jumping off his bed the way I’d told him not to eighty-seven million times. Rough estimate of course.

  Eason strolled into the kitchen, wearing a huge smile on his face and my second favorite baby girl on his hip. “Hey, Bree,” he greeted, pulling me into his customary hug, and it wouldn’t have been Eason if he didn’t finish it with a tight, lingering squeeze. “How ya been?”

  “I’m good,” I chirped, awkwardly inching out of his hold. Turning my attention to my goddaughter, I clapped and extended my hands in her direction. “Come here, sweet girl.”

  Eason passed her off with pure fatherly pride beaming from his eyes. For all of his struggles in the professional and financial departments, he did love his daughter something fierce.

  “Well, you look pretty. Is this new?” I asked Luna, straightening the ruffle on the sleeve of her pink monogrammed outfit. I shuddered to think what maxed-out credit card Jessica had used to buy it.

  Eason smoothed down the front of his gray Henley. “Aw, shucks, Bree. Thanks for noticing. You look good too. Is that Jessica’s dress?”

  “Uh, no. It’s my dress that Jessica borrowed, and I had to do an entire Tom Cruise Mission Impossible thing to get it back last week. Your wife is a clothing thief, but I stole these wedges while I was there, so it evened out.”

  Chuckling, Eason plucked a nugget off the tray and popped it into his mouth. I made no extraordinary efforts to warn him that they were still hot. Yeah, my sainthood was definitely on the way.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” he panted, chewing with his mouth open.

  Mildly amused, I bounced Luna on my hip and watched his struggle. “You want another?”

  “Mmm. Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the molten lava chicken nuggets.”

  “They’re veggie nuggets.”

  He curled his lip. “That explains the grassy aftertaste.”

  I shook my head, because honestly, it was all I could do with him most of the time.

  “Uncle Eason!” Asher jumped down the last three stairs, giving me my daily heart attack.

  “What’s up, lil man?” Eason asked, dropping into a squat.

  After the elaborate handshake they’d been crafting since my son was three days old, they finished with a behind-the-back high five.

  “Guess what?” Asher asked.

  Eason didn’t miss a beat. “You found a fossil in the backyard that unearthed a new species of dinosaurs. With no teeth, it appears this dino could have been friendly, so scientists have decided to use its DNA to bring them back to life with hopes of taming them and using them as a new form of transportation, thus saving our precious…well, fossil fuels.”

  Asher’s freckled nose crinkled adorably. “What? No!”

  “Dang,” Eason breathed, his face filled with wonder as he stared off into the distance. “I was really looking forward to riding an Asherosaurus.”

  My son howled with laughter, a common reaction when his favorite and only “uncle” was around. Eason laughed right along with him, complete with the abridged version of their secret handshake.

  “All right, you two,” I interrupted. “Go sit at the table, Ash.”

  “Don’t do it,” Eason whispered from the corner of his mouth. “They’re veggie nuggets that may or may not be laced with grass clippings.”

  “Yessss! I love veggie nuggets.”

  Eason cut him a side-eye. “Boy, you aren’t right. That’s it. Tomorrow when I pick up Luna, I’m bringing you some good old-fashioned Mickey D’s Chicken McNuggets. You’ll never grow hair on your chest eating this veggie stuff.”

  With his father’s nearly black hair and eyes, he argued, “Gross. I don’t want hair on my chest!”

  “You will one day.”

  “No, I won’t. Dad doesn’t have hair on his chest.”

  “Well. That’s weird. Every man has hair on his body. Maybe check his butt next time he’s in the shower.”

  “Ewwwwwww!” Asher shouted, causing Luna to startle in my arms.

  “Ohhh-kay,” I drawled, passing Eason back his daughter. “That’s enough hair and butt talk for one day…and possibly ever.” I grabbed a plate from the cabinet and called out, “Rob! Please come save me!”

  Eason, doing the universal step-step-sway baby-soothing dance, used his free hand to pull the neck of his shirt down, revealing his neatly trimmed chest hair before mouthing to Asher, “McNuggets.”

  Right on cue, Rob walked into the kitchen and slapped his best friend on the back. “Quit harassing my wife.” He too snagged a nugget off the tray. It was still hot. So he also did the panting bit before curling his lip. “Oh God, what is this crap?”

  “It’s a vegetable, honey. Be careful or your body will go into shock.” After prepping Asher’s plate with nuggets, a handful of baby carrots, and half a banana, I handed it off to Rob.

  He carried it over to the table. “Okay, I got Luna’s Pack ’n Play all set up in the guest room. I feel bad. Maybe we should put her in with Madison so she doesn’t get lonely?”

  “Not if you want them to sleep.” I propped my hip against the counter. “Two babies-slash-future-best-friends will never sleep if they can see each other.”

  He stopped in front of Eason and gave Luna’s belly a tickle. “You sure Jessica’s okay with leaving her
here tonight?”

  Eason chuckled. “If she isn’t, the twenty-seven outfits, bibs, bottles, and a winter coat in the middle of May that she packed was a real waste.” He looked at his watch. “And on that note, I need to get out of here. I still have to stop at the store to get a few things.” After kissing Luna on the head a dozen or so times, he reluctantly passed her to Rob and then looked at me. “Jess told me to grab the good champagne from you.”

  The shame in his tone was clear to every ear in the room.

  And damn if that seed of guilt in my stomach didn’t grow. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Let me just grab—”

  “Take the Dom,” Rob interrupted.

  Eason scoffed. “I’m not taking that for game night. Save that for—”

  Rob slanted his head in challenge. “I said take the P3 Rosé. Oh, and grab the Bollinger too.”

  My eyes flared. Holy shit. That had to have been at least three thousand dollars in champagne.

  Rob and I did okay ourselves—more than okay if I was being honest. My once-small side gig sewing custom comforters for the girls in my dorm to earn beer money had taken off shortly after I graduated. Armed with a business degree, I’d rebranded Bree’s Blankets into Prism Bedding and moved to mass production and distribution to department stores all across the country. I loved my job, but the minute I laid eyes on my baby boy, my heart wasn’t in it anymore. Keeping it in the family, Rob took over as CEO and not long after landed us an eight-figure deal with the biggest hotel chain in North America to exclusively supply all five thousand of their hotels with private-label bedding. We’d spent that night celebrating in a penthouse suite in Vegas with a bottle of each Dom and Bollinger.

  However, unless Jessica had left out some seriously important details about this celebration we were having for Eason, I wasn’t sure Dom and Bollinger were necessary.

  I assumed Eason shared my thoughts when he nearly choked on his tongue. “Have you lost your mind?”

  My husband shook his head. “My best friend is a musical genius who has decided to grace the biggest artists in the world with his songs before eventually writing more and dominating the entire industry as a solo artist. I did not spend a summer with you in a nineteen ninety-two Ford Aerostar van, taking two showers a week—combined—to celebrate your future successes with shitty champagne. End of discussion.” With that, he patted Eason on the shoulder and carried Luna out the back door to Evelyn.

  “Jesus,” Eason breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As if taking champagne from you guys wasn’t bad enough, now I have to add half a million dollars of bubbly to my infinite debt.”

  I offered him a tight smile. “It’s not that expensive, but should you find yourself the biggest artist in modern history like he expects you’ll be, we’ll be happy to accept half a million dollars as repayment.”

  He huffed. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on it.”

  I wasn’t, but if Rob had that kind of faith in him, the least I could do was walk down to the wine cellar and get the champagne.

  EASON

  I was dumping the last of the chips into a bowl just as the doorbell rang. “Jess?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Wiping my hands on a towel beside the sink, I surveyed my handiwork. Chips with homemade salsa and some random cheese that the lady at the grocery store had promised would be delicious along with a plate of fancy crackers, each one looking about as appetizing as a piece of cardboard. It wasn’t perfect. All in all, it had cost less than twenty bucks. But it looked good and that was more than enough to appease my wife.

  “How’s it going?” Rob asked, walking in carrying a bottle of wine, as if the champagne hadn’t been bad enough.

  “What’s that?”

  “A gift for our hosts.”

  I leveled him with a glare. “Seriously?”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “Don’t give me shit. Bree insisted. Besides, a little extra wine never hurt anyone.” He arched an eyebrow and turned a pointed gaze on the ladies who were already huddled around the sofa table I’d converted into a makeshift bar.

  Jessica was sporting a massive grin, so I gave up being annoyed at my best friend’s gratuitous generosity, took the bottle, and put it in the fridge.

  “Can I get you a Scotch?”

  He quirked a dark eyebrow. “Are you expecting me to play Pictionary tonight?”

  I chuckled and started toward the bar. “Right. I’ll make it a double.”

  Together, we walked over to the ladies, where I went in for the hug on Bree. “Hey, long time no see.” As usual, her return embrace was short and stiff, but I’d long since given up on reading into it. “How were the kids when you left?”

  Rob coughed. “Don’t.” Another cough. “Mention.” He cleared his throat. “The kids.” He grinned at his wife. “Champagne or wine, sweetheart?”

  Bree rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Stop making such a big deal about it.”

  “Of course you are, my love,” Rob crooned, shooting me a wink. “Champagne?”

  After the pop of a cork that cost more than my mortgage and a quick toast to me with some bullshit about new beginnings and a bright future, we migrated in different directions. Jessica took Bree to Luna’s nursery to show her the new letters we’d hung over her crib while Rob and I meandered into my fortress of solitude that I shared with Jessica’s car—the garage.

  Long before he’d worn Dolce and Gabbana suits and started driving a Porsche, Rob and I had grown up together, playing pickup basketball at the park while our parents worked late to keep food on the table. He’d made fun of me when I found an old keyboard at a yard sale and spent hours teaching myself piano in high school. He’d also given me hell when I began singing and writing my own music. But once I started gigging in college, he became my biggest fan.

  The summer after our second year at the University of Georgia, Rob borrowed his grandmother’s decrepit ’92 minivan and booked my very first tour. Okay, the so-called “tour” consisted of fifteen open-mic nights around the state, many of which had Rob and the bartender as the only faces in the audience, but dammit, that was the summer I truly discovered what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

  Not long after, I dropped out of college and threw myself into writing and playing anywhere that would have me, and my album Solstice in the ’92 was born.

  Rob had always believed in me, even when I was ready to throw in the towel. Which was exactly why I side-stepped the truth when he finished bitching about a new guy he’d hired at Prism and asked, “So, how are you really feeling about selling the songs?”

  Avoiding eye contact, I swirled the Scotch in my glass. “It’s good for the family.”

  “And what about what’s good for you?”

  I shrugged. “There’s been a lot of what’s good for me happening the last few years. It’s not my turn anymore.”

  His lips thinned, a motivational speech no doubt poised on the tip of his tongue. I wasn’t in the mood though. This was supposed to be a night of fun and freedom. A few hours of laughs to distract us all from the real world.

  Or, in my case, drown them in a bottle.

  “Let’s go find the ladies. Jess and I have a game of Pictionary to win.”

  He barked a laugh, clearly reading my escape. But Rob being Rob, he didn’t call me on it.

  Just like in the game of life, Jessica and I lost the first round. I had a strong suspicion Bree was either cheating or had become a telepath. There was no way she got apple picking from Rob drawing a damn tree that honestly looked more like a shrub, not a single fruit in sight. It did make for some good old-fashioned trash talk and upped the ante for round two, so I let it slide.

  “Walking. Floating. Doing magic!” Jessica yelled.

  “No. This.” I stabbed the marker at the very skillfully drawn stick figure jumping rope.

  Bree giggled from the couch as my Pictionary-challenged wife threw her hands up in the air.

  “I don’t know! Draw something else.”
<
br />   Grabbing Jessica’s arm, I dragged her closer to the board as if the three feet between us were somehow distorting her vision. “This. This thing.” I pointed at the jump rope.

  “No talking!” Rob chided, holding the tiny hourglass to his face, already smiling in victory, waiting for the last grain to fall.

  Ignoring him, I cleared the frustration from my voice. “Baby, sweetie, honey, look at the—”

  That was all I got out before time expired on us all.

  With a deafening boom, the entire house exploded.

  I didn’t remember falling, but in the next blink, I was on the floor, covered in debris. My ears rang and my vision blurred as I fought to gain my bearings, but nothing made sense. As I rolled to my back, the ceiling was wide open, insulation and wires hanging, flames covering the support beams like lightning streaking the sky.

  “Shit,” I breathed, gripping my head as though I could manually slow my thoughts. “Jes—” I coughed, smoke scorching a path down my throat. “Jessica.” Suddenly, a single terrifying thought pierced through my foggy brain. “Luna!” I sat bolt upright.

  No. Wait.

  I shook my head again, memories flooding my subconscious. Luna wasn’t there. She was at… Fuck.

  “Rob! Bree!”

  It was eerily silent.

  No cries.

  No screams.

  No pleas for help.

  And in that second, it might have been the most terrifying sound of all.

  Desperation collided with a surge of adrenaline in my veins. With a strained groan, I managed to climb to my feet. Heat licked at my face as I staggered to catch my balance amongst the wreckage. It was somehow simultaneously dark and yet blindingly bright. In the shadows of the dancing flames, I made out the empty space where the couch Bree and Rob had been sitting on had once been.

  It was gone.

  Everything was fucking gone.

  “Jessica!” I roared into the nothingness. She’d been standing right in front of me. She couldn’t have fallen far. Panic engulfed me and I dropped my knees, frantically digging through the rubble. Blood poured from my hands as broken pieces of God only knew what slashed through my skin.