by S. M. West
My shaky emotions make me feel nauseous. Being here, his suggestion of Cora’s, it’s all too familiar. His condo feels like home, but it’s no longer my home and never can be.
“I just want something to drink.”
“Okay, give me a sec,” he calls.
Without waiting for him, I find the kettle in the kitchen, right where it used to be, and I hold my breath, opening the cupboard for the peppermint tea. Surely he’d have thrown it out by now. He never drank the stuff, but I loved it and he would buy it for me.
Nope. It’s here. Same spot. Same tea.
I’m part elated and part angry. Did he hang on to all these things because they were mine and he couldn’t part with them? I hate that thought, because if so, then why the hell did he break up with me? Or was he just plain lazy and couldn’t be bothered to clean everything out? I hate that thought too.
Why do I play these silly games with myself? He left me. He moved on. I’m surprised he isn’t married with kids. I shiver. He’s not married, Paige would have told me, but there could be someone in his life.
I scan the kitchen for signs of a woman before shutting my eyes to stop the self-torture. It doesn’t matter if there is someone or not. I can’t be romantically involved with Drew Hayes ever again.
The kettle whistles and I make my tea, wondering if tea can go bad, but the crisp aroma of mint hitting my nostrils tell me otherwise. Maybe it isn’t as fresh as it used to be, but I’ll take my chances. It’s about the only thing I can stomach right now.
My hand rubs at my aching lower back and I watch the water turn a dark green. I’m exhausted and feeling crampy. It’s likely the crappy sleep on the plane and the stress of leaving my husband.
I left my husband.
I did it.
It’s only the first step in what I’m sure will be a long and ugly road, but it feels like the hardest step.
“You okay?”
Drew stands before me in faded jeans and a light blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms. He looks the same as he did on the plane, but somehow different, almost relaxed. I’m envious. What does he have to stress about? He’s just helping a friend out. He gets to play knight in shining armor.
Stop being a bitch, Pippa.
Drew isn’t like that.
Defensive has been my constant state of being these many months with Brock. I forget what it’s like to just relax. Be myself.
My marriage got to the point where it felt like who I was, the woman Brock supposedly fell in love with, pissed him off. I could do no right, and so I quickly changed, trying to fade into the background. To be invisible when he was around.
To be myself seems so simple and vital, yet the task seems so hard. Or maybe I’m too late. Maybe that Pippa is long gone.
“I’m fine, just tired.” We both stare at the steeping cup of tea on the counter.
“Go sit. Put your feet up.” He rubs my arm and I barely defy the impulse to lean into him. “Or lie down. I’ll bring your tea to you.”
He plucks a translucent tea bag from the open box and rubs the little square pocket between his fingers, lost in thought.
“I couldn’t get rid of you,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself.
“Pardon?”
He shakes his head and glances over at me with a lopsided grin.
“The tea. All of it. It all reminded me of you and I couldn’t… I couldn’t purge you from my life even if that’s what I said… even if that’s what I did.”
He’s talking about our breakup and I see the cracks in his countenance, the scars from that time in our lives. It doesn’t change anything but hearing him explain why nothing has changed—the tea, book and tablecloth—helps and within me there’s a stirring of an empathy for him that hasn’t been there for a long time. He doesn’t need to say any more; I understand exactly how he feels.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I went there,” he’s quick to say when I stay silent, still absorbing the potential meaning of his confession.
“I get it,” I finally say, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.
“Too deep for this time in the morning. I need coffee.” He chuckles weakly. “You sure you don’t want anything to eat? I’m going to order something.”
“No. Not hungry.” I step back still holding his gaze. “I’ll just lie down.”
I pull a blanket from the wicker basket in the corner and lie on the sofa. I can hear Drew moving around, and even though he’s out of sight, my chest tightens at the overwhelming memories.
Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of a moment we shared, a song we loved, or a conversation we had. Drew’s familiar scent is everywhere and, sighing, I sink further into the cushions. My eyelids grow heavy and eventually close.
I wake up with a start, lifting my head from the sofa and blinking against the brilliant sunlight warming the room. Whispers come from the kitchen; I recognize Drew’s voice and the other is female. His girlfriend? Shit.
I bolt upright, running fingers through my unruly hair. This is all I need, to meet the girlfriend looking like shit.
“There’s my girl,” calls the familiar voice.
My mom walks into the room, beaming, and my heart swells while a smile plays with my lips.
She’s just as beautiful as ever. Shimmering blonde hair falling to her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling like sapphires, and her smile. She has the most infectious smile I’ve ever seen.
“Mom.” My voice cracks.
Cradling me in her arms, she’s silent and accepting while my hot tears fall fast and freely. My unchecked outpouring of emotion surprises me, but I don’t even try to stop it. My mom’s here and that’s all that matters. Until now, I didn’t even realize just how much I needed her.
We stay like that for a while and Drew makes himself scarce. When I finally feel all cried out, I release a jagged laugh and pull away.
“Ah, my baby girl, it’s so good to see you.” She wipes at my tears. “Honey, you look tired and you’re so thin. Too thin.”
Her hands smooth down my hair and then the sides of my arms, examining me from head to toe. “Pippa, I’m so glad you’re home.”
There’s a slight crease to her forehead and she frowns, but she doesn’t offer any more. She only pulls me closer for another hug. If I weren’t tired or cranky, I might tell her to stop worrying.
10
Drew
They ramble on animatedly in my living room like no time has passed and watching them brings a calm that I didn’t know was missing. Seeing Pippa with her mother, the woman I grew up calling Aunt Sin, brings back so many funny, crazy and awesome memories
Her mom is sharing the latest news about Pippa’s younger siblings, Claire and Tom.
“I caught him sneaking out of his bedroom window. One foot on the roof when I busted him.” Sin snorts, covering her mouth.
“Oh my god, no!” Pippa laughs, bouncing in her seat with a slight grimace, suggesting discomfort. “That’s what I used to do!”
Tom’s her youngest brother and he hasn’t outgrown the player in him—he doesn’t chase the skirts, they chase him—nor has he decided what he wants to do with his life.
“I know! How’d you think I knew what to look for?” She beams at her daughter.
They are both relaxed and it’s subtle, but Sin is making sure her daughter doesn’t feel guilty or bad for missing out.
“Don’t remind me.” Pippa blushes, shaking her head at what I’m sure are flashbacks to her high school antics. “Tell me about Claire. Last we spoke, she was neck-deep in exams.”
“Yes. She’s doing well and spends so much time at the hospital. She loves it.”
“She was always the sweetest of us, wasn’t she? Being a doctor suits her.”
“You’re all sweet, in your own way,” Sin says about her four children; spoken like a true mother. “She’s so dedicated to becoming a surgeon that I worry she’s letting her youth slip away.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. Claire is so serious, older than her years, really. She tells me she doesn’t have time for friends and parties.”
“Well, perhaps I can change that?” Pip teases with a glimmer of the mischievous girl she once was.
Her mom laughs, shaking her head. “Forget I said anything. One of you is enough.” She lightly kisses the top of her daughter’s head.
“I can’t wait to see them. I’m going to give Tom a hard time,” Pippa says, grinning. “And Claire a big high five for all she’s accomplished.”
“They can’t wait to see you, and neither can your dad. He wanted to come this morning, but he needed to be at the bar for deliveries.”
Pippa wears a faraway gaze, blinking several times before she focuses on her mom. “I want to see him too,” she whispers.
Her father holds a special place in her heart, and her tone carries disappointment in herself, as if she’s failed him. As if she dreads facing him or something.
“Honey, I’m so glad you’re home.” Her mom squeezes her hand. “We’re having Thanksgiving dinner at Sam and Olivia’s tomorrow.”
Pippa’s head snaps up, seeking me out, and our eyes lock. I’d completely forgotten about Thanksgiving because I didn’t think I’d be here.
“Yeah, Mom and Sam are thrilled you’re here.” I fudge the truth a bit, pushing off the wall to join them, and also making a mental note to call my mother and let her know we’ll have an extra person.
My family will be thrilled, that’s for sure. Pippa’s like a daughter, but Mom won’t be pleased if I spring Pippa on her tomorrow. Knowing my mother, she’ll want to make sure we have Pippa’s favorite things on the menu, like Yorkshire pudding and bacon balsamic brussels sprouts.
Sam, my step-dad, will also be ecstatic, but less fussed if I just show up with Pippa. He’s a chef and used to adapting his menu on the fly.
“Yes. The whole gang will be there, even Finn and Cass. They get back from their honeymoon today,” Sin says, standing.
“Honeymoon?” Pippa’s dazed.
She couldn’t have forgotten her brother got married last weekend. We talked about it just yesterday. But guilt works in strange ways and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s blocked it.
“They went to Costa Rica. Cass has been posting pictures all week long. It looks beautiful.” Her mother takes her arm, pulling her to stand. “I’ve got to go now, hon. I’ve got several fittings today for the Nutcracker.”
Sin is a costume designer, currently working with the National Ballet of Canada on their next production. She glances between Pippa and me.
“Do you want me to pick you up on the way home or will Drew bring you?”
“Um, I was planning on…” Pippa trails off, looking to me with so many questions in her eyes, and I’m not used to seeing her like this. Indecisive. Lost.
“Oh, Pip was going to stay with me tonight, but if you want…” It’s my turn to trail off, looking at her for direction.
“Mom, I’m going to stay here, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What? What about your dad? He wants to see you.”
Sin worries her forehead, uncertain as to what this means. Our history is no secret and our breakup impacted both of our families, so she could be reading too much into this.
“And I want to see him too. I’m just… just overwhelmed and tired. I could use the day to get my head on straight.”
“Oh, okay. He’ll be disappointed but I’ll do my best to get him to understand.” They hug. “But don’t be surprised if he shows up. You know your dad.”
Pippa smiles and nods. Colin, her father, has two boys—Finn and Tom—but Pippa is his son and daughter rolled into one. She loves sports, playing and watching, and when she went into sports medicine, her father was the proudest.
“I’ll call you later, honey.” Sin gives her one final squeeze, stopping to kiss me on the cheek.
“Does she know?” Pippa asks the second her mother is gone.
“Know what?” I slide my hands into my pockets. “That your husband hits you? That you’ve left your job? What exactly are you asking?”
We’re both surprised at my anger, unintentionally aimed at her. I’m frustrated at how wrong I was to think her life was good and that she was better off without me.
She recoils but doesn’t retreat. “About my marriage.”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head and walk further into the room. “I didn’t tell her, if that’s what you mean. But I’m not sure about Paige and what she might have said.”
No longer able to tiptoe around the elephant in the room, I sit beside her on the couch, making sure to leave a few feet between us.
“How long has it been going on?” My tone is soft and gentle.
She’s never been fragile, but I feel like I need to handle her with care. Her head dips so she’s staring into her lap.
“I’m not ready to talk about this.”
“You can’t avoid it. Paige will ask you tomorrow, and if she’s said anything to our mothers, they’re all going to ask.”
I slide my fingers under her chin and lift her head to meet my gaze. I deliberately leave out Finn. I won’t make the same mistake twice and put my best friend’s needs above hers.
Pippa. She comes first.
Finn is a big boy and can fend for himself.
She tilts her head back on the sofa, one hand splayed between us and I notice that she isn’t wearing her wedding band. The sweetest sensation uncurls in my belly, but it feels wrong to feel such hope at her despair.
Those long bare fingers tease me as if I’m a kid coveting a sparkling ornament on a Christmas tree.
I want to touch.
I want to reach out and hold her hand, but think better of it, squeezing my eyes shut and rapidly blinking away the temptation.
My hand drops to the cushion and my pinky finger grazes hers. It’s a light brush of flesh on flesh but it’s enough to awaken an aching desire that always comes from touching her.
She turns to face me, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed. My fingers curl around hers and we both glance down to where we are joined. She doesn’t pull away but she isn’t relaxed.
“Tell me what happened,” I say, raspy and thick, and she shivers. “I only want to help.”
“He hits me, okay. Are you satisfied now?” She jumps to her feet, wrapping her arms around her middle, walking stiffly to the window.
I want to demand she tell me more, because her pain is undeniable. Both emotional and physical. Like her brother, Finn, although I’d never say that to her, she’s burying all her painful thoughts and her silence gives it power.
I want to help but can’t if I don’t fully understand what we’re dealing with. It’s the lawyer in me, wondering when or if we’ll have a fight. I’m not going to push her though.
Truthfully, it’s more than that. I want to know where her head is at. Is she leaving Brock for good? No wedding band would suggest that, or did she come to Toronto for some time and space? Will she go back to him? The need to know is something fierce.
“Are you back to work on Tuesday?” She breaks through my crazy thoughts.
“Nope.” I twist on the couch to face her. “I was thinking, if you want, we could go up to the cottage after the weekend? I’ve done a lot since you last saw it.”
I instantly regret my last comment. Like I need to remind her of how much we’ve missed of each other’s lives. She wrinkles her nose and tilts her head to get a better look at me.
“What about work?”
“I took a leave of absence.”
She twirls on her heel to fully face me, her eyes wide like saucers and disbelief written all over her beautiful face.
“What?”
“I was going to LA, I had the vacation time, so I took a month.” I hop off the couch and walk to her.
“Why?”
“I was coming to see you.”
My hand reaches for her face and her expression is now blank, but her
eyes speak volumes. Darkening, swirling oceans of excitement? Trepidation? Desire? Whatever feelings she has, they are intense.
“Pippa.” I cup her cheek and her heated skin warms my hand. “I didn’t want anything to get in the way of seeing you.”
“Thank you for coming.” Her raw sincerity rips my chest wide open and I want to kill Brock Sullivan for what he’s done to her.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always come for you.”
Stepping away from me, she winces, and I cup her elbow to stop her. “You’re in pain. Where does it hurt?”
“I’ll be fine. Do you have painkillers and Epsom salts?”
“Yeah.” Taking her hand, we shuffle toward my bedroom. “I still have the bath salts you bought,” I confess as my cheeks redden. It may be years since she’s been here, but I couldn’t bring myself to fully let her go.
She laughs and waits awkwardly in the doorway to my bedroom as I head to the en suite. “You should use the tub in here. It’s bigger and deeper.”
She mumbles something that I can’t quite make out, but not willing to take no for an answer, I start the water in the tub, adjusting the temperature to how she likes it. Once I pour in the salts, fill a glass of water, and grab two ibuprofens, I return to my room to find her leaning against my dresser.
Her fingers toy with a blue garter, lying among some coins and other things I’d emptied from my tux pockets the night of Finn’s wedding. That was only a week ago, but it feels much longer.
I clear my throat, so she knows I’m here while she fiddles with the frilly fabric, uneasy, as if uncertain whether to say something about it or not.
“Your girlfriend’s?” Her tone is bold and a touch snarky, matching her twisted expression, suggesting she has tasted something nasty. I grin at the hint of my Pippa.
“Ah, nope.” I laugh and snatch it from her, giving her the glass of water and pills. “Your brother’s wedding.”
“You caught the garter?” She knows that sort of thing isn’t my scene.
“Nah—let’s just say it caught me.” I stuff the lacy thing in a drawer, out of sight, and she tips her head back to swallow the painkillers.
