by Jess Vonn
Yet here he was, waking up alone. For all that Winnie had made him feel in his body and his heart, clearly things had not been properly reciprocated.
“Shit,” he growled, getting up and finding his clothes in a pile on the floor. Putting them back on, he could still smell the bonfire on them. He sighed loudly. As if the morning couldn’t get worse, he now had to do the walk of shame through his own mother’s back yard.
Glancing at a clock on the wall, it was later than he thought. His mother would be up by now. She’d have already noticed his car still in her driveway. Then again, she’d probably known pretty well what was going to happen when Cal had made his way to the cottage the night before. The jig was up.
And damn it, it wasn’t a walk of shame. Frustration at Winnie swelled in his chest for having made him feel that way. What they’d shared had been sweet and powerful and pleasurable and mutual, and she owed him more than a hasty note on the bed afterward. But then again, hadn’t he set the precedent earlier in the week for running out when things got tense?
He stomped his way out of her cottage and through the shared yard, making sure to avoid looking up into his mother’s back kitchen window lest he find her concerned face there. With each step, an unrecognizable ache deep in his core twisted and grew. He hopped into his car, slammed the door shut, and began the short drive back home.
All these years, Cal had told himself that there could be no fate worse than settling down. He’d convinced himself that feeling deep affection for a woman would bring out the worst in him. That he’d only bring her the type of misery that he’d seen his mother experience at the hands of his father.
For so many years, he couldn’t fathom a fate worse than that. What a blow to the heart to figure out what trumped it: the realization that his deep affection might not be mutual.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
Winnie didn’t have a plan when she crept out of her own cottage at dawn. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep until she woke up to find Cal’s gorgeous, sleeping face just inches from hers. In the peace of sleep, he looked so sweet, so non-threatening. He appeared almost childlike, the way his criminally long lashes fringed his contented eyes while he slept.
The sight of him there, the memory of what they shared, had filled her with such an overwhelming mesh of anxiety and pleasure that she simply had to flee. She pulled on a mismatched outfit, slipped into her flip-flops, and drove Fiona the Ford out into the yellow-and-blue streaked dawn of the early September morning with no destination in mind.
Ninety minutes later, after countless rambling twists and turns, she finally pulled into a mall parking lot in a town she’d never heard of, though her GPS told her she was more than an hour away from Bloomsburo. It had been her first big trip out with Fiona the Ford since she’d arrived in town.
How was it possible that so much could change in a month?
She put the car into park and took her hands from the wheel, marveling at how they still slightly shook.
This. This was the moment she had known would be inevitable since the very first minute she saw Cal Spencer. From that day she’d made the choice to let his sexiness and charm ease their way into her life and onto her body. It was always going to be a deal with the devil. For however good it felt in the short run, and by God had it all felt better than her wildest imagination could have conjured, she knew that it would come at a price.
She’d hardly slept the night before. She’d noticed the second Cal had fallen asleep, his arms and his legs growing heavier where their weight cradled her body affectionately. She’d noticed his breathing growing deeper, with the occasional deep, contented rumble in his chest. That heavy-bodied ease with which men slept.
That was the moment, spooned up against the most sensual, most stunning man she’d ever known, that she’d let herself imagine, just for a minute, what it could be like. Her want for him, her lust for all that a life with him could offer, surrounded her until she nearly drowned in it—that vision of what her world might be like if Cal was her home.
Certainly there’d be nights of pleasure like she’d just experienced. Endless hours of his hands and mouth upon her, his hardness inside of her. His body collapsed in satisfaction next to her as they drifted off to sleep. But it wasn’t merely the promise of physical pleasure she envisioned. She could picture long weekend trips to wineries and B&Bs and wooden cabins surrounded by the crisp rustling of brilliant fall foliage. She could picture them snowed in at his cozy house, curled up for days at a time on his comfy sectional couch, binge watching entire seasons of their favorite TV shows while they ate the cookies he’d baked for her. The happy chaos of holidays with his big family. She could picture them walking down Main Street, holding hands in public like a real couple, stopping to greet the familiar community characters that colored both of their professional lives.
Her traitorous, masochistic brain could even picture him in a perfectly cut suit at the front of a quaint, rural church. In a hospital room, gazing adoringly at a newborn bundled in soft blankets.
Her eyes blurred again, correcting her earlier assumption that she’d already wrenched every final tear from her body.
Hope. The emotion that helped her realize that things had to end with Cal immediately. Hoping was the one thing she couldn’t allow herself to do given what she’d already lost in her lifetime. In hindsight, it was now clear to Winnie that an aversion to hope had been the only explanation for why she’d stayed with Anthony for as long as she had. She stayed with him not because she could see their picture perfect life together, but because she couldn’t. She couldn’t get lost in the possibilities of a long and happy life with him. She couldn’t force her brain to consider the kind of husband or father he’d be. That’s why she took comfort in the mediocrity of their relationship. Why she put up with his digs and his controlling ways and the suspicions of infidelity that ultimately proved to be true. If she didn’t even bother to dream of where it could go, she couldn’t be crushed by that dream’s failure to manifest.
Cal was a lot of things—sexy, confident, kind, professional—but he wasn’t a living Ken doll, ready and willing to help the new girl in town construct her happily ever after. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted from life. Though it was clear that their casual ground rules pleased him, it was now evident that Winnie couldn’t possibly keep up the charade that a physical, no-strings-attached tryst could be enough for her. Not given the white picket scenarios that her heart and mind had traitorously conjured.
No matter what fun they’d had these past weeks, the truth was that eventually, a man like Cal Spencer would be on the lookout for another adventure, and even the thought of him making another woman feel how he made her feel, physically and emotionally, left her distraught. Heartbroken. She took small comfort in the familiarity of those feelings, a dull silver lining along the edges of her monstrous pain.
She was being selfish. A coward. She knew it this morning when she fled her and Cal’s shared bed, and she knew it now, but this was likely her last chance to control how this ended, and to end it before she grew even more attached. He had so much to offer her, and he was such a good man, but she couldn’t lose herself in him. Already it felt so easy to hitch her star to his, to hinge her happiness on his contributions to her day-to-day life. But it made her feel too vulnerable. Too exposed. So even though it took every ounce of courage to walk away from that delicious, naked body sprawled across her bed, it was ultimately an act of self-preservation.
Winnie first.
And now it was time to close the deal. He deserved a phone call or a face-to-face conversation, but her voice would reveal too many truths that she prayed he’d never learn.
With trembling fingers, she typed the words that would seal her fate, sending a mortal blow to the hope that had so audaciously bloomed.
Our deal was that I could call it off at any time. I’ve got to do that now. I’m sorry. :(
She pushed ‘send’ and contemplated throwing up. The nausea only amplified w
hen those dots indicating his response appeared instantly. For better or for worse, there would be no waiting on his reply.
Was it something I did? Are you okay?
The guilt and concern in his response gutted her. Was it something you did? she thought to herself with a bitter laugh. Yeah, you made the mistake of doing everything right, you bastard.
No, just need some space. Will be fine.
In a year or two, she silently amended. One minute later, her phone registered the arrival of what would likely be the last text message she’d ever receive from Cal Spencer. It consisted of only three little words. Not those three words, but they somehow managed to be just as devastating.
I’ll miss you.
Winnie took little comfort in the fact that the feeling was mutual.
~-~-~-~-~-~-
On one level Cal was aware of the Sunday dinner conversation swirling around his mother’s kitchen island, but he was so lost in his thoughts that he may as well have been alone in his house across town. He heard snippets of his sisters’ talking points: PTA meetings and new movie releases and the latest news about the royal baby, but he hadn’t said three words all night.
Grateful to be on lead cooking duty tonight, he busied his hands mashing potatoes and steaming vegetables and checking on the roast in the crockpot, but his mind was still trying to process where he’d gone wrong with Winnie.
On Friday evening she had seemed so grateful for his presence. She seemed as enchanted as he was by the powerful connection of their bodies. Yet somehow, between falling asleep with the woman in his arms and waking up the next morning, she’d rejected him. Rejected the connection that damn near vibrated between them and had him contemplating the one word that he never even knew existed in his vocabulary: forever.
Her text hadn’t made any sense. If he could just talk to her—just sit with her and stroke her face and tell her what he was feeling—things would be different. But clearly she didn’t want that. She didn’t even have the courage to call him to break it off with him over the phone. He didn’t know how to interpret that, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that Winnie Briggs possessed courage in spades.
It just didn’t add up, and he felt sick about the way that his disconnection from her corresponded exactly to the moment he’d finally figured out what she’d meant to him.
He didn’t have a damn clue how to proceed. How did you give a woman space when what you really wanted to do was give her everything you had and more?
“I think those are good and mashed, sweetie,” his mom said as she walked up behind Cal and put her hand gently on his. He looked down and realized that, lost in his own thoughts, he had pulverized the potatoes.
“This will all keep warm,” she said, handing him a glass of red wine. “You come with me for a few.”
Rhonda led Cal out to the rockers on her front porch. The twilight sky was a lovely shade of purple, and the calmness of the space stood in contrast to the chaos of Cal’s mind.
He and his mom sat side by side on wooden rocking chairs.
“Please talk to me, honey,” his mom said quietly. “I’m worried about you.”
Cal sighed. He didn’t want to have the conversation, even though he knew he needed it. If he couldn’t talk to his mom about what was troubling him, who could he talk to? He didn’t want to betray Winnie’s confidence, yet somehow he knew that his mother had been onto their connection from the very beginning. He’d never understand it, but mothers had that sort of sixth sense.
“It’s Winnie,” he managed. His palms felt sweaty and his pulse raced. Why was it so damn hard to talk about his feelings?
“I figured,” she said. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
He felt his mother’s concerned gaze on his. She stayed quiet, though. She knew from years of experience that the best way to get her son to talk was to keep her own mouth shut and give him time.
“We’d been getting to know each other,” he said, staring down at the glass in his hand.
“That’s wonderful, honey.”
“It was,” he said, sure his eyes were filled with angst he didn’t even bother to conceal.
“When I went over there after the bonfire…” He trailed off.
“I figured,” she said, squeezing his hand affectionately, not requiring him to finish that sentence. He had the most sex-positive mother on earth. There was no need to be ashamed of his adult behavior, but that didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to go into details.
“I thought it was a really amazing night. I thought she felt the same way, too, but yesterday she texted me and told me she needed some space.”
He heard his mom sigh next to him.
“And how does that make you feel?” she asked quietly.
“Angry. Sad. Confused. Mostly sad.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, running her back across his shoulder, a gesture of comfort she’d done thousands of times before.
“I don’t understand it,” he said, “but it’s probably in her best interest.” He sensed his mother tense next to him, knowing this was not a path she liked to go down.
“Cal, you have to let go of those old stories you believe about yourself.”
It was his turn to stay silent.
“Do you think I’m a stupid woman?” she asked, the emotion in her voice forcing his eyes to meet hers.
“Of course not,” he said, taken aback. His respect for his mother was boundless, and she knew it.
“Well, let me tell you something, son. If I had this whole life to do over, I would choose your father again. In a damn heartbeat.”
Cal’s jaw clenched. How his mother could speak fondly of his father after all he’d put them through, he’d never understand.
“And you know what, you do remind me of him.”
“Huh,” he said bitterly. “So then you understand why it’s best if Winnie keeps her distance.”
“The biggest problem with your dad in the early days was his looks. Maybe it’s just my nostalgic recollection, but he may have even been more handsome than you are now, which is saying something.”
She laughed lightly and Cal silently cursed his handsome face. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw the spitting image of his dad. Even his first name, Charles, was another hand-me-down from the man he’d rather not think about.
“I worried, at first, about dating him, because he was so good looking,” his mother continued nostalgically. “Girls were always throwing themselves at him. He could have had his pick of anyone. That can be really intimidating to a woman.”
Cal stayed quiet, letting his mother speak her peace, and trying not to think about his dad’s later decision to take those other women up on their offers, even when he was still married to Cal’s mom.
“But he was so kind. And I found that combination to be so attractive. He could have been a jerk. He could have been a cad. But he was a good man. And he proved it over and over again as each of you precious children joined our family.”
He heard his mother’s voice crack at the fond memories. He squeezed her hand. Even if he didn’t understand it, he knew his mom still missed his father every single day.
“He was a loving dad. I know you try to block out everything that happened before Rosie’s diagnosis, but surely you still have some memories of those happy moments tucked away in that stubborn mind somewhere.”
He did, even if he generally refused to let them out. Even if he vowed never to admit it.
“There was nothing that made him happier than being with me, with you kids. Providing for us. It’s what he lived for. I see so much of him in you when you watch out for your sisters, and wrestle with your nieces, and humor your doddering old mother.”
An involuntary laugh slipped from Cal’s lips.
“Life got hard, Cal, and no, he didn’t make the best decisions that last year,” she said, her voice full of emotion as she remembered the events leading up to his death. “
But that doesn’t erase everything that came before it. That doesn’t change who he was, or the love and commitment he was capable of.”
Cal let out a long sigh.
“Whenever you decide to give away your heart, you need to know that it’s not going to be a perfectly smooth road for the two of you,” she continued. “You’ll make mistakes. So will she. But hopefully you’ll grow together, learn from one another, and be all the stronger for it.”
Cal considered that for a moment.
“She won’t hurt us, Cal,” his mom said quietly, finally putting her finger on the heart of the issue for Cal. “You don’t have to keep up that boundary anymore, between our family and the rest of your life. We’re on solid ground now. And what we have is worth sharing with those who are special to us.”
On a rational level, he knew his mother was right. It had just been a really, really long time since he’d allowed himself to be rational about his personal life.
“Winnie adores you, and if she tells you otherwise, she’s lying,” she said plainly. He took comfort in her assessment, even if it made his heart constrict. “She’s terrified of what you could mean to her. And I’d guess that feeling is at least in part mutual.”
He sighed in agreement.
“So what are you going to do about it?” she asked.
He shot his mom an annoyed glance. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are you going to do to earn her trust?”
Resentment flared in his chest. “I didn’t do anything to lose her trust. Why should I—?” he started, but she cut him off midsentence.
“Cal Spencer, I love you more than life itself, but you’ve not had to work for much in this life.”
He shook his head in disbelief. Only his mother would pick this particular moment to lecture him about his work ethic, which, for the record, was outstanding.
“You’re tall, athletic, intelligent, handsome as sin, and twice as charming.”
