by Elena Aitken
It’s probably the advice he gave her most. Way more than study and get good grades or be nice to strangers or any of those other bullshit things that parents say. And it seemed to work for him, so why mess with it?
At any rate, Rylee had done her job as the dutiful good daughter, nodding and smiling and most importantly, totally ignoring the constant beeping of her cell phone in her back pocket, which was extra hard to do especially because she knew the whole time that she was downstairs playing good daughter that it was Brice texting.
Just thinking about his wavy, floppy hair that always fell just perfectly over one eye and the casual way he would lift two fingers in a wave every time he saw her—just her; he didn’t do that for anyone else—made her want to scream.
In a good way. An out-of-control—ohmyGod he likes me—kind of pillow scream.
Because he did. Sienna Wright told her so and she was Rylee’s best friend, so she’d never lie about something so serious. Especially considering Rylee knew that Sienna couldn’t even stand Brice. She would always roll her eyes when Rylee mentioned his name and try to change the subject whenever Rylee brought him up. But Rylee didn’t care.
Which was why the second she escaped the party to get upstairs and out of sight, she pulled her phone out and...yes. Brice was texting her. She knew it.
* * *
What ya doing?
* * *
I’m bored.
* * *
Want to hang? Park in ten?
* * *
Did she want to hang? Umm, yes. Hell yes. A million times…yes.
Still standing in the upstairs hallway, she cocked an ear to the party going on downstairs.
Dammit.
Her mom would lose her shit if she asked to go out.
With a sigh, Rylee texted back.
* * *
Can’t. Mom’s party.
* * *
A second later—a response.
* * *
So? It’s not your party, is it?
* * *
He made a good point. It was definitely not her party. A moment later—another beep.
* * *
Grab some booze.
* * *
There was no way. Her parents would ground her for the rest of her natural life if she took alcohol out of the house. Or at all. She ignored Brice’s request and focused on the one thing she might actually be able to do something about.
As quietly as she could, not that it mattered with all the noise coming from downstairs, she crept to the edge of the stairs and peered down. Rylee’s mom was nowhere in sight, but her dad was still in the corner with a few of the neighbors. Rylee recognized most of them. The fat bald one was new and she didn’t like him. Last summer at the block party, he spent a little too long looking at her chest.
She rolled her eyes and focused on her dad.
There really was no reason her parents shouldn’t let her go out. Especially if she told them she was going to hang out with Sienna. They’d been friends since the second grade and they practically lived at each other’s houses. Her parents loved her. And if it wasn’t for the ridiculous party that her mom didn’t even really want, she’d probably already be at Sienna’s house. But…
* * *
Well?
* * *
Brice’s text prodded her. He liked her and he wanted to hang out. How could she not go?
* * *
Maybe Tia is free.
* * *
Oh hell no! He was not going to call Tia. Not if Rylee had anything to say about it.
* * *
Coming. Give me 10.
* * *
She looked down the stairs again. Mom still wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She must be in the kitchen, which meant if Rylee was quick, she could pull it off.
Moving quickly, Rylee ran back to her room, grabbed her jean jacket and her big slouchy purse before slipping down the stairs. She put her biggest, brightest smile on and walked straight over to her dad.
“Hey, Dad?”
“What’s up, Ry? Having fun?”
“That’s the thing.” She shifted from foot to foot, purposely avoiding the gaze of the fat bald guy. “I’m kind of in the way here and Sienna asked if I wanted to come watch a movie.”
“Go for it.” He agreed the way she knew he would. Her dad always wanted Rylee to be happy. Especially when he’d had a beer or two and by the looks of the table behind him, he’d had a few more than that.
“Really? I’ll only be a few hours.”
“Of course. You were here for the surprise. That’s the important part. Go have fun but be home by ten.”
Victorious, she gave him a quick hug and took off before he could change his mind or more likely, her mom appeared.
She slipped her shoes on at the front door and was almost safely outside when she spotted a gift bag with a bottle of wine in it.
Grab some booze.
Brice’s request flashed in her mind. She hesitated, but only for a second. A little wine wouldn’t hurt. Her parents let her have a small glass at Christmas last year, and it’s not like she got drunk or anything. Besides, no doubt her mom got a ton of wine for her birthday. She wouldn’t miss one bottle.
Rylee grabbed the gift bag and shoved it in her purse before slipping out the door to meet Brice.
Sabrina
It was almost midnight when Sabrina Miller pulled her car into the parking space out front of her condo. She put the car into park and stared out across the shared front lawn at the two-bedroom, semi-detached home she’d bought ten years earlier, on a dare. She could remember the exact moment she’d signed the papers. It had been the single biggest commitment she’d ever made in her life. She’d been thirty years old, had never had a relationship that lasted more than three years—although one came close—had bounced between careers since college, and had never owned anything except the very first car her parents had given her as a graduation present almost eight years earlier.
And then there was the condo.
It started out innocently enough at a New Year’s party at Maren and Davis’s house. There’d only been a few of them drinking and toasting 2008. They’d been going around the room, talking about their accomplishments for the last year and their goals. The same as every year, Sabrina didn’t have any. At least not anything of substance compared to the rest of the grown-ups. It was Davis who’d teased her that night: “I bet it’ll be another ten years before you make any real commitment. Unless you count committing to paying too much rent for that grubby little apartment of yours.”
Sabrina was used to the ribbing and normally she was able to brush it off, but for whatever the reason, that night the remark hit home. Maybe it was seeing Maren and Davis and all of their friends with their real jobs, their mortgages that had them constantly complaining of interest rates and ongoing repayments, their children and all of their millions of activities, their stressful schedules and commitments that all of their lives seemed to revolve around and for a hot minute she was actually jealous of their chaos.
It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while, Sabrina looked away from her easy-going life of freedom and no-strings sex and picking up to go on vacation at a minute’s notice, and looked into someone else’s and felt that annoying twinge of…desire.
That’s exactly what had happened in the wee hours of 2008. Something in her snapped and without even thinking about it, she’d said, “Well, I guess you’d be surprised to hear that one of the first things I’m going to do this year is buy my very own home.”
She had no idea where that had come from, or what had made her say it, but as soon as she did, she found herself actually wanting to buy a home. She’d managed to put some money aside over the years, and she’d recently received a small inheritance when her grandmother had died. Maybe she actually could buy a house.
And that’s exactly what she’d done five weeks later.
The little condo wasn’t much, but it was hers and more than that,
it proved to everyone that she could actually make a commitment and put down roots.
Or something like that.
As it turned out, it had been a good decision to buy when she did. Shortly after she signed, the city had experienced a boom, and her little condo development had become inner city and close to the core, which meant the location was very desirable to young professionals working downtown who didn’t want a big commute. And more importantly, it meant the value of her little property had skyrocketed.
Not that it mattered to Sabrina. She didn’t work in the core, nor was she planning on selling.
Her hand fell to rest on her growing stomach.
No, she was definitely not planning to sell. The little condo that started out as something to prove was very soon going to become a family home.
“Family of two,” she said out loud. “Me and you, kiddo.”
Suddenly exhausted, Sabrina hauled herself out of the car, bringing the Tupperware container full of leftovers Maren had sent her home with. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come home from an event at their house without a care package. As if she couldn’t take care of herself. Deep down, she knew that wasn’t the reason Maren always sent her home with food. It was because she cared and she wanted to make sure Sabrina was taken care of. It’s what she did. Maren didn’t mean anything by it, and Sabrina always felt a little guilty when she let herself think otherwise.
Maren wasn’t perfect. But she was damn close. She’d dedicated her entire adult life to being the best mother and wife she could. And friend. She was an amazing friend. The best friend, in fact.
She opened the door with a click, dropped her keys and purse on the hall table, and locked the door behind her before popping the leftovers in the fridge and heading upstairs to bed.
She’d been exhausted when she’d left the party, but by the time she was ready for bed and tucked under the covers, she was wide awake, her mind spinning with thoughts. Maybe it was a symptom of pregnancy, but for the last few months, she’d had a terrible time sleeping and she just couldn’t seem to shut her brain off.
Tonight, her thoughts circled around Maren. Likely because she’d just celebrated her fortieth year. She and Davis had planned for months. Well, mostly she’d planned and Davis had taken care of the details she’d instructed him on. But it had all come together perfectly, and even though Maren had insisted she hadn’t wanted a party, she really did look as if she’d had fun. By the time Sabrina had left, Maren was definitely tipsy from one too many glasses of wine. Just the way a fortieth birthday should be.
She’d celebrated her own months earlier. Even though they’d all gone to school together, Sabrina was a bit older. Her mother had called her a bubble baby, being born right on the edge of the cutoff for school. Her parents could have put her in school a year earlier, but her mom had wanted her to stay home with her. As the baby of the family, her mother had wanted to hang onto her as long as possible, she’d said.
Sabrina’s thoughts flipped to her mom and predictably, tears welled up in her eyes. Julie Miller had been full of life. She exuded so much vibrance and color that sometimes it hurt to look at her. When she’d died, the world seemed to leech all of its color. The once brilliant oranges and yellows of a sunset were pastel. The bright blue of the sky where it met the greenest of the summer grass, dull. Everything just…muted. The rest of the family had felt it too. Julie had been the glue that held them all together, and without her, they all drifted apart. Sabrina saw her older brother and sister maybe once a year. And even then, it was awkward and strained, as if they didn’t know each other anymore. Which, she guessed, they didn’t.
She did make a point to reach out to her dad. In the five years since her mom died, he’d become more and more reclusive. Choosing to spend his days alone, reading or puttering in his garden as if when Julie died, she took the part of him that burned the brightest, too.
Sabrina shuffled herself around in bed until she was on her right side. She let her hand rub the swell of her belly as the tears dripped from her eyes. Her mother would never meet her grandchild. But it wasn’t that thought that made her the saddest. It was that her mother hadn’t lived to see her own baby girl as a mother in her own right.
It wasn’t often that Sabrina felt lonely. For the most part, she loved her life of independence. But there were some nights when the quiet crept up on her, and memories of how things used to be smothered her.
Would things be different if her mother was still alive? Would she be different?
It didn’t matter.
Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut against the past and focused on the future. On the life growing inside her. That’s all that mattered now. Not what could have been—but what will be.
Maren
“There’s the birthday girl.” Davis rolled to his side, the bedsheet slipping a little off his hip as Maren walked into their bedroom.
“It’s not my birthday yet.” He wasn’t drunk, but just buzzed enough to be extra flirty. She grinned at him. “Technically, there’s still three days until I’m actually forty, not that I’m counting.”
“Close enough.” He propped himself up on one arm and used his finger to beckon her to him before she could slip past into the en suite. “Come here.”
Despite the fact that she hadn’t wanted it, the party had been fun and she’d enjoyed herself. Judging by the slightly spinning room, maybe a little too much. “I need to get ready for bed,” she protested, but took a step toward him.
“I can’t wait.” Davis gave her a fake pout that made her laugh. “I need a kiss right now.”
“Okay. But just one.”
The second she got close enough, his arms shot out and wrapped around her before he pulled her into the bed with him. “You look ready for bed right now.” He kissed her and just the way it had for the last twenty-two years, Maren’s heart fluttered and she melted into his touch.
All of her protests were forgotten when her husband started kissing her. It never got old or boring the way she’d once worried it would. Every single time they kissed, it was like the first time. Well, maybe not quite like the first time. But close enough. And even though they weren’t intimate as much as they once were—in fact, it had probably been a few weeks—the passion between them was far from gone.
Davis slipped around her so in an instant Maren was underneath him on the mattress. He stroked her cheek with one finger and stared into her eyes. “Did you have fun tonight? I know you weren’t surprised, but I hope it was still a good night.”
“Of course I had fun.” She smiled in an effort to hide her disappointment that he wasn’t still kissing her. “Thank you for working so hard with Sabrina to pull it off. It was perfect.” It wasn’t really a lie. If she had to have a party, the one they’d thrown her had been perfect.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I know forty is a big one for you.”
“It is.” Conflicted between wanting to cuddle up with him and deconstruct the evening the way they always did or kiss him again, Maren wiggled beneath him. Her desire won out and she reached up and wrapped her hand around the back of his head to pull him closer. “Kiss me again.”
“With pleasure,” he murmured against her lips before doing just that.
They’d been so busy for the last few months with Rylee’s swim practices and work and just…well, life, that time had a way of slipping past and before they knew it, days turned into weeks and they hadn’t been together nearly as much as she would have liked. Maren missed it. No, she missed him.
With her mouth busy, Maren moved her hands down his back to the elastic of his pajama bottoms and slipped them underneath to press against his bare skin. She felt Davis’s lips curl up into a smile against hers and knew he was in agreement with exactly what she had on her mind.
A few minutes later, they were both naked and he was once more on top of her, staring down into her eyes. “I love you, Maren.” He stroked a piece of her hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear
.
It was an exquisitely sweet moment, but Maren wasn’t in the mood for sweet.
“I know.” She ran her hands down his bare arms in an effort to refocus his energies. “I—”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t say it enough.” His voice was serious, his gaze intense. “But I hope you know how much I love you.”
“I do.”
“I love you more now than I did when we were seventeen and I saw you on your first day of school,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Do you remember that?”
Of course she remembered. Starting a new school as a teenager was usually a horrific experience, except Maren had been lucky enough to meet Sabrina, who had the locker next to hers, first thing on her first day. She’d introduced Maren to Davis at lunch that same day, and the rest of the year—the rest of her life—had been anything but horrific.
“Davis.” Maren stared up into her husband’s deep green eyes, the same eyes she’d fallen for all of those years ago. “I love you, too.”
Her heart swelled as he bent to kiss her again and threatened to explode completely when finally they made love. Afterward, content and no longer feeling quite so tipsy, she cuddled in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest, and listened to his deep breathing. She snuggled into his warmth and let her fingers draw small circles on his stomach.
For a few minutes, Maren thought he might be asleep, but then his fingers traced a gentle line down her arm and she turned in his arms to look up at him.
