by Lili Valente
“I can’t do this anymore, Vi,” he says, hand coming to rest on my knee beneath the bar. “I can’t keep pretending to be happy with the choices I’ve made. I’m not happy. I’m miserable and ashamed of myself, and I regret every second of the past two years. If I could turn back time, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer, my tired brain struggling to keep up.
He leans in, bringing his face closer to mine. “I thought I wanted to be in love again. That epic, crazy, light-your-skin-on-fire love like we had in the beginning.” He shakes his head. “But that isn’t love. That’s just fresh chemistry. What you and I had was love. The real thing. One hundred percent. I was just too stupid to realize it.”
I feel my face contort into a mask of what-the-actual-fuck and freeze that way. Surely he can’t be doing this to me. Not now. Not here.
But he is. This isn’t a dream, a fact he proves as he brings his other hand to my knee, his palms so sweaty I can feel them through the denim of my jeans.
In dreams, people never have sweaty palms. Sweat isn’t something that happens in dreams. Neither is garlic breath, but I get a heady whiff of Grant’s as he adds in a furtive whisper, “But I’m not stupid now, Vi. I get it. I so fucking get it, but I’m scared to death it’s too late.”
I’m about to assure him that it is too late—even if I still missed him the way I did before I met Deacon, the last of our love died the day he asked me to help Adriana pick out a dress for his wedding to Tracey—but apparently Grant hasn’t gotten all his crazy out just yet.
“Tracey’s pregnant,” he blurts out, his eyes as wide and fearful as Adriana’s were when I left the house.
My jaw drops and a wheezing sound emerges as Grant pushes on. “It was an accident. We weren’t planning on having kids, never even talked about it. But now she’s pregnant, and she wants to keep the baby, and all I can think about is how badly I want to take it all back. Everything—the affair, the marriage, the pregnancy—all of it.” He exhales in a rush, drawing my attention to the sweat breaking out on his upper lip. “I don’t want to start over with a new baby. I’m almost fifty-two years old. By the time the kid’s in high school, I’ll be an old man. This isn’t the life I want. This isn’t what I want to happen. Every night I dream that I’m back home with you and the girls, and then I wake up in bed with Tracey and feel like punching myself in the face.”
I sit up straighter, attempting to center myself in the storm of emotion “Okay. Let’s take a breath. Take a step back and—”
“I don’t want to step back. I want to lean into making things right with you, Violet,” he says, his grip tightening on my knee. “Just give me a chance, and I swear I’ll make it all up to you. And if Tracey sees that we’re getting back together, maybe she’ll change her mind about the baby.”
“Change her mind,” I echo, my stomach turning as it becomes clear what’s behind this sudden hunger for reconciliation.
“Yeah. I mean, I know she wants to be a mother, but she doesn’t want to do it on her own.”
“So you’re going to just…abandon her? Is that it?”
“No,” he says, adding in a conspiratorial tone that makes it obvious he has no clue how poorly this attempt at winning me back is going, “but I can make it clear that I’m not going to offer more than money. She’ll get child support, and that’s it. If she still wants to go through with it, that’s up to her, but I’m not going to be there for this kid the way I was for the girls. That part of my life is over.”
I shake my head, my lip curling as I push his hands off of me. “I can’t believe you. I honestly can’t believe you. I thought you were a better man than that.”
“Oh, come on, Violet,” he says. “Be honest with yourself. You’d feel exactly the same way. You don’t want to have a baby now.”
“No, I don’t, but if a child were to come into my life, I would love it to bits and pieces. Because that’s what you do with children, especially your own flesh and blood.” I pull a twenty out of my purse, slapping it down on the bar. “The fact that you for one second imagined I would feel differently proves you don’t know me anymore. Maybe you never did.”
“Violet, wait,” he says, reaching for my arm as I slide off my stool. “Stay. Let’s talk it out. We could always talk it out.”
“I don’t have anything else to say to you,” I say, before adding in a blunt voice, “except that Adriana is also pregnant, and she’s decided to have the baby, and I’ll be supporting her in her choice to the best of my ability.”
Grant shrinks inside his skin.
“If you have any questions,” I continue, “you can email them to me. I don’t want to hear your voice for at least two weeks. Maybe three or four.”
I storm out of the restaurant, breaking into a jog as Grant shouts from the door for me to wait. But I do not wait. I haul ass like I’m being chased by hungry ghosts.
Then I go home, tell Adriana we’ll talk tomorrow after I’ve had time to decompress, and hole up in my room to eat an entire pint of salted caramel ice cream.
Life, man. Sometimes you have to say fuck this shit and just eat all the ice cream. All of it.
I wake up the next morning feeling like I’ve been run over by a bus to find two missed calls from Grant and three from Ginny, but only one message. I scroll over to see Ginny’s name and my stomach flips with relief. I really don’t want to have to listen to Grant’s voice first thing this morning.
I got more than enough of him last night.
Just thinking about the bullshit way he behaved is enough to make my head pound even harder. He was such an ass that I feel terrible for Tracey, not an emotion I ever expected to feel for the woman who made it her mission to seduce my husband.
But as I hit play on Ginny’s message, all I can think about is Tracey trying to swing it as a single mother while Grant moves on to the next sweet young thing. Or maybe he’ll date someone his own age this time. Either way, he won’t be sticking around in his current marriage for long. I know that “I’m already checked out” look in his eye all too well.
“Violet, you need to come up to the shelter,” Ginny says, her voice pulling my thoughts away from my ex’s soon-to-be ex. “I know it’s your day off, but you have to see this. The work crew is here, and the brush is almost all gone and, well… I think you should be here, too. Hope to see you soon.”
Frowning, I hit delete on the message, wondering what the heck is going on and why Ginny doesn’t sound more hysterical about the salamander habitat destruction. Has she already been that radically changed by her new man, her tender heart altered by the hot lovin’ of her hunky herpetologist?
On the one hand, I’m glad she’s not in hysterics.
On the other, I’m frustrated that so many women let men barge in and make themselves the center of their universe without a fight.
What we want matters. A woman’s hopes and dreams and goals are just as important as a man’s.
So why do we so often just…give them away?
Well, Ginny may be okay with the not-endangered salamanders meeting an untimely end, but I’m not. I’m not going to sit by and wait for the next big rain to wash out their burrows and send their once hospitable hillside home crashing down on their little slimy heads. I’m going to do something.
Now. Right fucking now.
“Adriana, I need you to bring me a strawberry-banana smoothie, a glass of water, an antacid, and an ibuprofen,” I call out, deciding to take advantage of the solid my daughter owes me for taking the heat with her father last night.
“On it!” Addie shouts from downstairs. “You want dry toast, too? Tammy’s older sister says it helps with a hangover.”
“I don’t have a hangover,” I call back, stomach lurching as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, signaling it might not be finished complaining about all that ice cream I ate last night. “On second thought, yes. Dry toast. Two pieces.”
“Coming right up, sweet mama,” Addie respon
ds, making my chest ache. She’s such a good kid. She’s going to be an incredible mother. Sure, she’s young, and she’ll make her share of mistakes, but we all do, no matter what age we are when we start parenting. But her baby’s going to have a hard-working mama with a sharp mind and a solid gold heart. My grandkiddo could certainly do a lot worse.
And I’ll be there to help her when she needs me.
But thankfully I don’t have a baby to take care of today. My stomach is a wreck. For a few minutes—while I’m taking the world’s fastest shower—I worry I might not be able to make it out of the house after all, but the toast, water, and smoothie work their magic. By the time I’m finished getting dressed, I feel human enough to start issuing more orders.
“Can you grab every pet carrier we’ve got and load them into the trunk and back seat of my car? I think most of them are in the storage shed, right?” I ask Addie as I toss my phone into my purse and head for the fridge, hoping we have something in there that a salamander might find tempting.
“Yeah, I think so. I’ll check. Do I want to know what you’re doing?” Addie asks, heading through the kitchen to the back door.
“I’ll fill you in later,” I assure her. “I’m in mission mode right now. Time is of the essence.”
“Got it,” Addie says. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll have the car loaded.”
“Thank you, baby.” I pull open the fridge door, my nose wrinkling at the less-than-scrumptious-looking white baby carrots in the bottom drawer. Do salamanders even eat carrots?
A quick web search reveals they do not, and that a trip to the pet store to buy mealworms is in order, which will add at least fifteen minutes onto my travel time. Though, I guess it doesn’t really matter what time I get there. The brush is already gone. That ship has sailed. But as long as I get project Salamander Relocation underway before the next storm, all should be well.
I shoot Ginny a quick text—Be there in about forty minutes. I’ve got to make one stop on the way. Will you still be around? If not, it’s no big deal.
Almost immediately Ginny responds—I’ll be here. And so will the thing I want you to see, I’ll make sure of it.
What thing? I shoot back.
You’ll see when you get here. Drive safe, sweet friend. She closes with a hug emoji and three heart emojis that make me suspect she knows my teenager is pregnant. I haven’t had time to talk to her or anyone else—except Grant, of course—but Tristan is her boss, and he’s more of a gossip than he likes to admit. If Deacon talked to Tristan, then Tristan likely talked to his wife, Zoey, and Zoey can’t keep a secret like that to save her life. Ginny probably took one look at her face and knew all was not right in the friend-i-verse.
For a second, I consider calling Ginny—to assure her I’m fine and steadily improving as I recover from the shock—but Addie is already pushing through the door with a thumbs-up. “You’re ready to rock, Mamacita.”
“Thanks, baby,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t forget to do your homework while I’m gone.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, mom. I know. I already have it scheduled.”
“And your online class, too. Don’t forget about it again or your father will have another heart attack.”
“It’s under control,” Addie says, adding in a voice wise beyond her years, “And I think Dad’s done freaking out about my grades. He’s got bigger things to flip out about now.”
“Oh, pumpkin, you have no idea,” I say with a sigh, waving Addie off when she starts to speak. “Later. We’ll talk about it later if we need to. But I’m sure your dad will want to tell you the big news himself.”
Addie’s eyes narrow. “Well, that sounds ominous. He’s already called twice this morning. I was waiting until you woke up to tell me if the coast was clear before I answered.”
“It’s clear enough. Talk to him. And if he refuses to be reasonable, hang up.”
Her brows shoot up. “You’re encouraging me to hang up on Dad? What the hell did he do last night?”
“I’m encouraging you to stand up for yourself, that’s all. Be respectful as long as he’s respectful. If he’s not, end the conversation. You’re both grown-ups now. It’s time everyone started acting like it.”
Addie rolls her shoulders back. “Right. Good. Then stop reminding me about my homework, Mom. I’ve got that under control, and I won’t be late for the bus again. And if I am, I’ll figure out how to get to school on my own. I’m going to adult like hell between now and the time the baby’s born. Make sure I’m as ready as I can be to be her mama.”
“A girl?” I ask, fighting the tears rising in my eyes. “You think it’s a girl?”
“I hope so. I like girls,” Addie says, holding her arms out. “And my mom taught me how to raise good ones, so…”
That does it. The tear dam breaks, and I pull Addie close, hugging her tight as I blubber into her hair. Then I have to run upstairs and wash my face and reapply mascara, and by the time I get to the pet store, I know I won’t be making it to the shelter in my forty-minute window.
But I’m not worried about it. If Ginny gets tired of waiting, she’ll leave. It’s one of the things I love about her. She doesn’t put up with any shit.
I’m not going to put up with any shit, either, I decide. I’m going to let my hair go gray, embrace baggy linen clothing, and spend the nights I used to go out at bingo. I will make a spreadsheet of every bingo night in the county and become that eccentric lady who plays fifty cards at once and be so busy pursuing life as a bingo legend, I won’t have time to miss Deacon. Or sex. Or love so sweet it had me thinking about rolling the dice on happily-ever-after all over again.
By the time I tumble out of the car outside the shelter with two cages in hand and a plastic container of mealworms tucked under my arm, I’m crying again.
And then I circle around the building to the newly bare hill behind the shelter, where all the brush has been cleared away, to see the man I’m crying over loading kennels into the back of his pickup truck.
Kennels full of salamanders.
I know they are, even before I get close enough to see the slimy little critters scuttling around inside.
I skid to a stop in the freshly churned earth, heart skipping a beat as Deacon turns, the pain in his eyes reflecting the ache in my heart so perfectly it hurts to breathe.
CHAPTER 28
DEACON
M y hands shake as I brush them off on my pants. “We’re moving the colony to the farm. To the hill by the pond.” My voice shakes, too. Dammit. I knew I was nervous, but I didn’t realize I was a hot mess. I just want things to be okay with us, so fucking bad. “Dr. Bart is going to meet me there tomorrow morning and help get them settled.”
Violet stands, staring at me in the fading light, not saying a word for so long my fevered brain starts tossing out worst-case scenarios. She flips me off and walks away, unimpressed with my effort to make things right. She’s kind but distant, still too disappointed in me to consider letting me back into her life. Or—worst of all—she looks up at me with those heart-on-her-sleeve eyes and confesses this is simply too little, too late.
And she’d be right.
Sure, I stepped up for salamanders, but I dropped the ball—hard—with my own kid. With her kid, too, which doesn’t bode well for a future with this woman who loves her girls with a fierce and tender devotion that makes me wish I could go back and do it all over with the boys. Love them even harder. Softer. Better. Her girls are the center of her world, and unlike my stumbling self, she always seems to know what her children need and has the courage to give it to them—the sweet love and tough lough and everything in between.
As a parent and a person, she outclasses me in every way, but I’m still praying there’s a chance for us. I love her too much to give up without a fight. I want a life together, no matter how complicated that life has suddenly become.
Finally, when the silence has stretched on long enough to make my teeth itch, I say, “I’
m sorry, Vi. I was an asshole. I got scared and started pushing for what I thought was best and…” I trail off, shaking my head as I hold her inscrutable gaze. “I’m still scared,” I confess. “Scared for the kids and for us.”
“Me, too,” she says softly. “But we’re not junior officers further down the chain of command, Deacon. We’re your friends and family. And, like it or not, none of us seem to respond very well to the drill sergeant routine.”
“Me, either. I almost got kicked out of basic training for popping off to mine.” I sigh. “And again, I’m sorry. It’s just…a reflex at this point, I guess. When I was a kid, Dad dropped the parenting ball with my little brothers often enough for it to be a problem. As the oldest, I felt like it was my job to step in, and being bossy as hell was the only way I could keep Dylan and Rafe out of trouble.” I shrug, chewing on the side of my lip. “And it worked. I rode their asses, and they came home after school without vandalizing property or getting in fights or breaking their arms falling off the ridgepole of a barn someone dared them to climb. It worked with my boys, too. When they were little. I thought they were growing into good men, anyway. But now…” I wrap my fingers around the back of my neck, digging into whip-tight muscle. “Now I wonder if I’ve fucked it all up from the get-go.”
“You haven’t fucked it all up,” Violet says, her eyes shining. “I don’t know Blake that well, but Jacob is wonderful. He’s one of the sweetest, strongest kids I’ve ever met. He knows exactly who he is and what he’s capable of, and he learned that from his dad, who he clearly loves and respects so much.”
I swallow hard, my own eyes beginning to sting. “You think so? I was figuring he must hate me by now. He hasn’t come home. He’s been staying at a friend’s house in town.”
“Of course, he doesn’t hate you.” She steps closer, bringing her honeysuckle and sage scent with her, the one that will always be one of my favorite smells on earth simply because it reminds me of her. “He just needs you to let go a little, Deacon, to trust him to make his own decisions. I know it’s hard. I get it, I truly do. They’re so young, and they’ve got such a hard road in front of them.”
