by M. E. Carter
“Yeah!” she squeals. “Was he amazing? Just tell me he’s amazing.”
“Yes, he’s amazing.”
“I knew it!” she shrieks. I’m pretty sure she’s jumping up and down if the vibration of her voice is any indication. “And he’s hung right? Tell me he’s hung.”
I knew we’d come back to this. But I’ve been thinking about how to answer this question for a couple days now, so I’m prepared.
“He’s perfect. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
She sighs and that’s all I need to tell her. “I love that he’s perfect for you.”
He catches me watching him and winks. It makes my entire body feel warm and I realize… I’m falling in love with him.
Not lust-hazed, sex-fueled love. This is real, genuine, in it for the long-haul kind of love. Love that only desires to make him happy. The mature kind of love people who have been married for fifty years have.
And it doesn’t scare me at all. I’m under no disillusions that we both feel the same way or that he’s going to propose. But it certainly feels like what we’re building is deeper than a passing fancy. What we’re creating together could potentially last for the long haul. It feels right.
“I know, me, too,” I admit to Callie, but I’m not in the mood to talk anymore. I need to process through these feelings for a bit. “Hey, I need to let you go. I need to concentrate on Fiona.”
I’m lying, but it works.
We say our goodbyes, Callie still sighing like my life is her own personal chick flick. Me still in this new fog of emotion.
I finally spot Fiona working with Greg on the high bar. I guess Coach Zach is absent again. Shows you how much the blood hasn’t gone back to my brain yet.
Fi swings back and forth, her re-grip practically perfect. Her legs are straight, her toes are pointed, her abs are tight. She stumbles every once in a while, but for the most part, she has this nailed. And then, when I least expect it, she swings out, lifts her legs up, and pulls herself over the bar until she’s resting at the top, still in perfect form.
A pull over isn’t a hard skill. But when you do it from a swing, it takes timing and strength and coordination… all things Fiona’s been working hard on.
She’s beaming, Greg is praising her, and I’m feeling an immense sense of pride. Look how far we’ve both come with a little encouragement from this man.
It’s not because we were helpless. It’s not because we wouldn’t have figure it all out on our own eventually. But sometimes the people in our lives have more of an impact on us than we ever could have anticipated. That’s what Greg has done for us… impacted us in ways he doesn’t even realize.
It makes me smile. I’m not in love quite yet, but I’m getting there. And suddenly, all of our futures look incredibly bright.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m convinced the only thing I ever do is plan or attend birthday parties.
Between my three kids, Callie’s kid, and Greg’s kid, there are five birthday parties this year. And that doesn’t include classmates of my older two. Granted, Peyton won’t turn three for a while, but her birthday falls right in line with the rest of them… two and a half months after Fiona’s… two and a half months before Christopher’s.
She may be the youngest of the bunch, but she seamlessly falls into the mix with the rest of the kids. Even where her birthday is concerned.
Today, though, we’re celebrating Maura. My sassy, frilly, girly-girl is now six. And in sassy, frilly, girly-girl fashion, the house looks like it threw up pink decorations everywhere and all guests are required to wear a tiara. Everyone. Daddies included.
Of course, James balked at the idea because “Boys can’t be princesses.” That logic didn’t go over well with the birthday girl. She may be a little princess, but she’s the epitome of a Southern Belle—sweet and charming, and she’ll kick your ass if you piss her off. Needless to say, James has fallen in line with the birthday girl’s wishes.
Greg, on the other hand, slapped the tiara right on his head without a second thought. “Why can’t I be a princess?” he’d said. “If Maura can slay a dragon, I can make sure the housework gets done.”
He totally won brownie points with her for that.
He also won brownie points with me when he made sure my hot dogs were cooked to perfection and set to the side so no one would eat them.
He also made my ex look like an ass, which was fun for me.
Did I mention I’m totally falling in love with him?
“Do you need any help?” Greg wraps his arms around me and kisses the back of my neck while I put candles on the cake.
“Mmm.” I lean back into him, enjoying the feel of being wrapped up in him. “I think everything is pretty much under control right now.” Placing the last candle, I swivel in his arms to face him. “Are you ok? You’ve seemed distracted all day.”
His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and that has me worried. All day long he’s been zoning out at the strangest times, and I keep catching him watching me. The expression he wears isn’t something I can decipher. I feel like there’s something he’s not telling me, but I’m trying not to freak out. I trust him. I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
“Just Libby crap. But it’s nothing to worry about.” That’s all he needs to say. The woman can’t seem to play nice and I know it grates on him. He gives me a quick peck and pulls back, slapping me on the ass lightly. “You look really nice, by the way.”
“That’s because I’m wearing my latest skirt from Callie’s collection.” I pull away and turn back and forth, swinging the skirt around and posing for him. “You like?”
He growls quietly. “I always love skirts. They’re easy to hike up over your hips…”
“Easy there, lover boy,” Callie interrupts, as I bat his hand away from my thighs playfully. “Wouldn’t want to traumatize the kids. And by kids, I mean James who is over there giving you the evil eye.”
Sure enough, he’s watching us from a distance, even though he should be paying attention to Birthday Girl Barbie, who’s standing right next to him.
“Why do you always ruin my fun?” Greg turns to give her a mock glare, still holding me close to him.
She puts her hands on her hips and sighs. “This time I wasn’t trying, I promise. I enjoy seeing smoke come out of James’s ears as much as you do. I need your help getting the ladder out of the garage.”
“Why do you need the ladder?” I ask. Even for Callie, that’s kind of a strange request during a birthday party.
“Christopher’s on the roof and can’t get down.”
We’ve had enough playdates together that situations other people would find to be an emergency, don’t seem quite that catastrophic to us. We meander our way around the table, stepping out from under the porch and sure enough, there sits Christopher.
Greg shades his eyes with his hand as we watch the little terror dig for gold, seeming bored by all the attention he’s getting. “How did he even get up there?”
“I knew that tree branch needed to be trimmed back,” I grumble. “He climbed up my magnolia tree, didn’t he?”
Callie shakes her head. “I knew he was a climber, but I had no idea he could shimmy up the trunk of a tree like a monkey. I tried to catch him, but apparently, he’s been practicing. He’s really fast.”
“We should have taken him out of gymnastics sooner. He learned too much.” Greg turns to me. “The ladder in the garage, does it extend?”
“Yeah, to fifteen feet or so, I guess.”
“Alright, I’ll be right back.”
“You need me to stick around?” I ask Callie. She’s surprisingly calm considering her child is on the roof of my house.
“Nah. Ben has his eyes glued on my devil child. I’m sure if something happens, Ben will catch him anyway.” Sure enough, Super Dad is standing on the grass, eyes trained on Christopher, with his arms stretched out, saying things like “Don’t be scared. We’re going to get you d
own,” and “Get your finger out of your nose and hold on to the shingles.” It’s kind of sweet except for the fact that every time he speaks, his voice sounds a little bit more hysterical.
“Maybe I should get a picnic blanket and we can all take a corner in case he falls.” I’ve never had a child on my roof before. I have no idea what the protocol is with something like this.
“And make him think there’s a make shift trampoline down here? That’ll give him a reason to jump. No way.” She brings up a good point. We aren’t trying to encourage him to dismount, only trying to prevent him from breaking his neck when he finally does. “Besides, he usually bounces, not break, when he falls.”
“You don’t sound very concerned.”
She shrugs. “Not my first rodeo with this kid. Besides, his dad can do the dirty work this time. I’m always the one who has to call 9-1-1.”
Another valid point.
Greg comes around the corner of the house carrying the largest ladder I’ve ever seen in my life. I knew it was in the garage but I’ve never used it before. It looks really heavy and Greg looks really strong carrying it. I should be getting the cake and ice cream ready, but I’m distracted by his bicep muscles. They’re flexed under the strain of carrying the ladder. His leg muscles are also tight. His face is showing a hint of strain, and the look reminds me of his “O” face. I get flushed thinking about how I know that.
“Damn.” Callie pulls her sunglasses down her nose to watch Greg set up the ladder and lean it against the house. “I guess we don’t have to go the beach after all. That man has muscles for days.”
As soon as the ladder is situated, Ben scrambles to the top and tries to grab for Christopher who immediately moves away. This of course, makes Ben scream like a frightened little girl because he’s worried Christopher is “going to fall off the edge”. Never mind that he moved further away from said edge.
After several minutes of Christopher ignoring his father’s pleas, Ben makes the final move off the ladder and ends up on the roof as well.
“Ben’s afraid of heights, you know,” Callie throws out there.
I look at her, my jaw dropped open. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. He hates them. I guess the love you feel for your child really does make you do crazy things.”
Greg shakes his head and I know he’s eavesdropping. It seems he’s resigned himself to having to get involved in yet another Christopher calamity.
With a heavy sigh, he climbs the ladder to the top, making his shorts flex over his ass. Yum.
Ben is still inching towards Christopher who is still backing away from his dad. It’s not going well until Coach Greg finally takes control.
“Christopher.” He uses that commanding voice I’ve heard so many times when he’s working. The voice that demands that children listen and comply. The voice that makes my insides melt. The voice that makes Callie suck in a breath and bite her lip, lust plainly drawn across her face.
I smack her arm and she has the wherewithal to look embarrassed about lusting over another man—my man. “Sorry,” she grumbles.
“Christopher, you do not have permission to be up on the roof,” Greg lectures. “Your father is trying to keep your safe. You need to go to him. Do you understand?”
Christopher nods.
“Now get your finger out of your nose and slowly scoot on your butt.”
“No,” Ben interjects, “Go to Greg, ok, buddy?”
Christopher looks at Greg like he’s asking for permission. Greg nods.
“That’s good. Don’t go fast. Go really slow, but scoot over to me.”
It takes a solid five minutes for Christopher to get to Greg, which is crazy because normally we can’t get him to slow down. But I guess that’s the magic of “Coach Greg”.
As soon as they reach the bottom rung, the entire party breaks out in cheers. Greg hands Christopher to Callie, but he has no interest in being coddled after a near-death experience. Instead he wiggles down to the ground and runs to the swing set where he can climb up the rock wall to the fort at the top. Not sure why he didn’t climb that to begin with.
“Well, now that this particular circus is over,” I remark to Callie, “I’m going to go grab the rest of the stuff. Will you be ok by yourself out here?”
“I’m not by myself. I’ve got Coach Greg to do all the hard work.” I barely catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes at her comment.
I head into the house for silverware, plates, and ice cream. The air conditioning does little to cool my body. I’m feeling flushed from all the fantasies of Greg and I playing “gymnastics” I was having during the roof top rescue.
I wonder if we could practice my “flexibility”.
Maybe he needs me to “stretch”.
I wonder if doggie style works if he holds onto my hips while I’m in a handstand.
That’s what his coach voice does to me. Makes me have inappropriate thoughts while I’m trying to host a children’s birthday party. It’s amazing how fast my libido picked up when I found the right person. I don’t remember ever feeling this way with James.
Speak of the devil…
The door opens and I look over my shoulder to see James coming in. Whatever. Maybe he’s here to lend a hand.
“Hey, can you grab the ice cream out of the freezer for me? It’s in a big five-gallon bucket thing.”
Before I even have a chance to register what’s happening, James grabs me by the arm, whips me around, and presses his lips on mine.
His lips are strong and soft and familiar. And for a split second, I’m so stunned it’s like muscle memory takes over and I don’t do anything to stop him.
But very quickly, my wits come back to me and it feels wrong. All wrong.
The crack of my hand across his cheek echoes around the room.
“What the fuck was that?” I screech, pushing him away.
“I made a mistake, Elena.”
“No kidding you made a mistake.” Grabbing a birthday napkin, I wipe my mouth, trying to get his taste off me. “Your wife is in my backyard.”
“No, I mean I made a mistake leaving you.”
My eyes snap up to his. He looks… distraught? Regretful? Remorseful? All of those things I wanted a couple of years ago. Now that he finally has those emotions, it’s insulting. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Leave me alone, James.”
“No.” He steps towards me and grabs my shoulders, looking me in the eye. “You don’t understand. I miss you, Elena. I miss our friendship and the conversations we used to have. I miss the life we had.”
Giving him a menacing look, I put as much venom in my voice as I can muster. “Take your hands off me.”
Instantly, he does as I ask and puts some distance between us. I smooth down my skirt and straighten my blouse. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you made a choice two years ago when you decided to have a relationship with your secretary.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Elena. I made the wrong choice.”
“Oh, I agree with you.” I pull out more plastic silverware, arranging them on the tray, mostly to give myself something to fidget with. This is not a conversation I am prepared to have and it’s taking everything in me not to stab his eyeball with this plastic butter knife. “But you don’t miss me. You miss having someone your age to talk to so you don’t feel old and out of touch.”
“That’s not true…”
I put my hand up to stop him. “You miss having someone who does your laundry and cooks your dinner and maintains your house, not like Homemaker Barbie out there who makes you pull your own weight.
“The only reason we’re even having this conversation is because you don’t want anyone else to have me. I’m like the toy you never played with but don’t want anyone else to play with either. Well, sorry. It doesn’t work that way.”
“You don’t get it,” he tries again. “I’ve watched the transformation you’ve made over the last few months and I see the woman I fe
ll in love with all those years ago is back. It’s like you lost yourself when we had kids, and now, here you are. I miss my wife. I miss you.”
What. The. Fuck.
“First of all, your wife is out back helping our six-year-old put press on nails on her fingers. As much as I don’t like her, how dare you disrespect her like this?”
“But I don’t love her like I love you,” he whispers.
I snort an angry laugh and shake my head. It takes me a minute to gather my thoughts before I can even speak again.
“You don’t know what love is, James.” My hands are clenched into fists and I’m willing myself to stay somewhat calm. This is a child’s birthday party after all, no matter what James has been smoking. “You don’t even know what commitment is. All you see is a pretty outside package,” I gesture to my clothes, “and that’s what you want. But let me remind you that underneath, I’m the exact same person I always was. I wasn’t good enough for you before. Your flattery isn’t good enough for me now.”
A throat clears and Greg is standing in the doorway, a strange expression on his face. “Am I interrupting something?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Nothing at all. I’m getting the last of the supplies while lecturing James on how doing drugs makes you a fucking idiot.” I don’t know why I lie to him, but this entire conversation has been such a buzzkill and I want to pretend it never happened. Rummaging around in my junk drawer for a second, I grab my favorite cherry flavored lip gloss. Ok, it’s Fiona’s lip gloss that I confiscated out of her laundry, but maybe this will help get rid of the lingering taste of James on my lips. “What’s up? You have a weird look on your face.”
Greg relaxes slightly, probably because of my nonchalant attitude. If he knew James had attacked my lips, he probably wouldn’t be so carefree.
“Do you know if the screens in Maura’s room are easy to pop in and out of the windows?”
I shrug. “I’ve never even thought about it. I have no idea. Why?”
“Ben’s stuck now.”
I bark a laugh. “He’s still on the roof?”
