by R. C. Martin
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she confirms, lifting a single shoulder in a shrug.
“Yow know, if you’re not into the whole God thing, you shouldn’t pretend on his account. Either he wants you the way you are or he doesn’t.”
“I know,” she assures me. “I’m curious about that part of his life. It’s really important to him. I figure it won’t hurt to do a little exploring.”
“True. Just…don’t let him pressure you or anything.”
“Daphne, I love you for looking out for me, but I promise this was my idea.”
“Okay.”
“So, where was I? Oh, yes, after service, we went to dinner. He took me Auggie’s Steakhouse, which I was not expecting—”
“Wow. Someone felt like showing off.”
“Or maybe he was just really craving a steak,” she says playfully. “It was nice, though.”
“Good. I’m glad you had fun.”
“I did. Every time I’m with him, I have more fun than I had the last time. I think it’s the same for him. We’re learning each other, which is something I never thought would happen.”
“You and me both, LG.”
“What about you? What did you do last night?”
“I hung out with Grace and Willow. The guys all had work so we decided to have an impromptu girls night.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as fun as it sounds. Not that it was anyone’s fault but my own. It’s just that girls night usually leads to boy talk. Listening to Willow gush about Pete made me think of Trevor, which made me think of my quasi-decision to tell him how I feel. That, of course, filled me with the same terror that it always does.
Even the good news brought about sad memories that I had to drink twice as much to ignore. “Hey, guess what?” I say, forcing myself out of my head.
“Hmm?”
“Grace and Harvey are trying to have a baby.”
“Shut up!” She gasps and then clamps her lips shut as she scrunches her brow in thought. “You know what? That explains a lot. She hasn’t had any alcohol in weeks. I didn’t even think about it until just now.”
“Yeah.”
I wasn’t old enough to drink when I was pregnant. For the majority of my second trimester, I was staying with my brother; and my third trimester had me avoiding any social gatherings outside of classes. Staying dry wasn’t a challenge for me, at all.
I can’t help but wonder what it will be like for Grace. Making a baby on purpose, planning for the new life, anticipating the joy that a child supposedly brings. I have no idea what that’s like. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will. Motherhood, to me, no longer means what it did when I was younger—not after my mom all but banished me from her perfect little home and I gave up all my rights of being a mother, myself.
The little boy I gave birth to…he’ll be four in a couple months. Most days, I try not to think of him. He doesn’t belong to me. He never has. Not really. That’s the complicated truth I have to cling to in order to keep myself from spiraling into the bottomless pit that consists of what ifs. But sometimes, when I think about whether or not I want children some day, I can’t help but think about him. The truth is, he could have brothers and sisters; the truth is, my first child wouldn’t actually be my first child, and I wonder—
“Hey, are you okay?” I’m so wrapped in my thoughts, I don’t even notice that Logan has made her way over to me. I follow the direction of her voice and see that she’s kneeling down beside me. I answer her with a nod as she rests her hand on my knee. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head and mentally give my heart the finger. “Well, I have news that might help distract you. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a couple days, but I wanted to make sure I had everything in order before I said anything.”
“What is it?”
“I’m ready to revamp our kitchen.”
“Oh, god,” I moan, leaning my head against the back of my chair.
“Don’t hate me,” she pleads, “but we’re going to be evicted for a few days.”
“Logan—you’re gutting our kitchen?”
“Yes. No whining, either, because you, my dear, are going to love it. New appliances, more counter space—you’ll be in heaven.”
“How is this even happening? You haven’t shown me any of your ideas.”
“I want this room to be a surprise. Since you won’t let me get my hands on your room, the kitchen is the only space that I can dedicate to you. Besides, you’re the only one around here who can cook, so it’s kind of perfect.”
“Okay,” I concede with a sigh. I know it will do me absolutely no good to put up a fight. The fact that I’ve managed to get away with keeping my room as it is is a miracle in and of itself. “When is this happening? How long do we have to move out for?”
“We have to be out Friday and I’m hoping we can be back in by Monday. Tuesday, at the latest, I promise.”
“Alright. I’ll see if I can stay with Trev. Wait—where are you going to stay?”
“With Roman,” she sings as she stands. I lift my eyebrows in shock and she laughs. “I think he likes me,” she says with a wink.
“Enough to share a bed with you?”
“Ha!” she cackles. “We aren’t pushing our luck. No, I’ll be on the couch. Unless, of course, I can convince him to let me have the bed. We’ll see. Speaking of sharing beds…” She wiggles her eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes, knowing already where this conversation is going.
Trevor. I can’t escape him.
Maybe I should just surrender.
“I want to tell him. I do. Bet or no bet.”
“Yeah?!” she squeals with a tiny hop.
I can’t help but smile; her enthusiasm is contagious. I love her for her excitement and support. “Yeah. But…I don’t know how.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know how? Just say it.”
“Oh, sure, can’t imagine how that would go.
“Hey, Trevor. How’s it going? By the way, I’m head over heels in love with you. I’d really like to be your girlfriend so I can kiss you and touch you as much as I want—which is a lot. Unlike you, I haven’t had sex in a really long time. Even then, it wasn’t all that great. Somehow, I have this completely romantic notion that if we just gave it a chance, you and I together would be heart-wrenchingly amazing. So, how about it?”
“Okay, yeah, that’s not bad, but it could use a little work,” she says, resting her hands on her hips. She studies me for a moment and I watch as the wheels in her head begin turning. “Why don’t you do it this weekend? It would be perfect! You can cook him dinner and build up the moment—make it all romantic.”
My heart flutters at the prospect while my stomach knots up with nerves. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“No, definitely. I’ll help you plan the whole thing. We can even role play, if that’ll help. I’m positive that I can be a convincing Trevor.
“Hey, Wings,” she says, lowering her voice an octave. “Are you hungry? I can make you a PB&J. Unless you want something else, in which case I can throw a frozen pizza in the oven. That’s about all I’ve got in my cooking arsenal. I don’t know how I’m not three hundred pounds with a diet like mine. I’m so lucky to have you to make me delicious food.”
She’s being so ridiculous I can’t help but laugh. I grip my stomach, laughing so hard I can hardly breathe. “Okay, okay. But no role playing.”
“Whatever you say, Wings,” she says with a grin. “I’m here to help. First step,” she turns and reaches for my phone, which is sitting next to my empty coffee mug, “call him and invite yourself over for the weekend. While you do that, I’ll go make us some breakfast. Hungry?”
“Yeah,” I reply, taking my phone.
“Great. Two fruit smoothies coming right up.”
I’m at my drawing table, my fingers covered in charcoal, when my phone starts vibrating. I turned the ringer off, wishing not to be disturbed this morning, and I glance at the screen with every intention of ign
oring the call. Then I see who’s trying to reach me. I swipe my pinky across the surface and put her on speaker.
“Hey, Wings.”
“Hey, Wolfy.”
A smirk tilts my mouth to the side at the sound of my nickname. She’s the only one who ever calls me that. It started after I explained to her that the wolf that I had tattooed on my arm is a representation of me. It’s not my favorite thing to be called, which she usually respects.
That is, until she wants something.
“So, I take it, this is not a social call,” I say playfully. “What do you need?”
“Logan’s kicking me out.”
I stop what I’m doing and stare at my phone, perplexed. “What?”
She giggles before she answers. “Just for a few days. She’s having the kitchen redone. Can I stay with you next weekend?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course,” I answer, resuming my task. “I don’t remember what my schedule looks like Friday but, if I have to work late, you’ve got a key. You know you’re welcome to use it.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you coming today?”
“I might drop by later. I think Logan and I are going to hang out for a bit. I’m not sure yet. I’ll text you?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bye.”
As we end our call, I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that I may or may not be seeing her today. On the one hand, if she doesn’t come, maybe I can distract myself from thinking about her for a few hours. On the other hand, I know that’s probably a lie and I’ll miss her if she doesn’t come. We didn’t see each other yesterday. When she dropped by the shop to say hi on Friday, I was with a client, so we didn’t really get a chance to hang out then, either.
Lately, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. It’s really starting to sink in that I need to make a decision. I either have the balls to go after her or I don’t. After what Willow said last week, I realize that I’m not being fair to Daph or myself. The thought of backing off makes me sick. I don’t want anything to change between us. I don’t want to lose her—but it’s my fear of losing her that has me questioning if I can commit to her. It’s not that I don’t want to be her boyfriend—it’s that I’m afraid of what will happen if we taint our relationship with sex.
I’ve been told that if we go there, it’ll be amazing. It’s been said that having sex with the person you love makes it better than a sweaty encounter with a stranger; it’s more than physical. I know they’re right. The problem is, I know because I’ve experienced it and it was awful. I don’t have to be dreaming in order to be haunted by the one and only time that I had sex with someone that I loved. I’ll never forget the look on her face or the guilt that I felt at the moment we both climaxed. I’ve never felt so relieved and so horrible at the same time.
When we found out that Rett was going to be deployed, Crystal cried herself to sleep every night. We didn’t talk about it and I never tried to comfort her in the moment. I guess that’s when we had boundaries. After Grams died, I was a fucking mess. I could hold it together during the day. I had to work and being around people encouraged me to keep my shit to myself. At night, when I was all alone…the reality of my orphan status made me feel so lost in a world that seemed too big with my brother so far away. I don’t know how many weeks I cried myself to sleep.
I know exactly when I stopped.
After a while, Crystal would come lay in bed with me. She felt sorry for me, but she was sad to have lost Grams, too. For a couple weeks, she’d just lay there with me and hold my hand until I fell asleep. I probably should have felt like more of a sorry-ass-pussy breaking down every night and letting her see me like that, but I never did. With Crystal—I felt no shame in my sadness. Then one day we woke up in each others arms and what we did eradicated that truth. One thing led to another and neither of us stopped it. Looking back, it was like an out of body experience. As soon as we were finished, I wished I could undo it. It changed me in ways I’m still struggling with, all these years later.
I don’t love Daphne the way I loved Crystal. I really can’t even compare the two. Crystal was always just a friend, even when she wasn’t. Daphne…I want her, I do, but we’ve been the way we are for years. There’s no guarantee that if we take our relationship to the next level that we’ll survive it. I want to believe that we can; that being together will make us better, stronger—but I’ve lost too much, already. I can’t lose her. I just can’t. She’s the only person that makes me truly feel like I’m not alone.
Sex complicates everything. For better or for worse, you can’t take it back—no matter what. Yeah, I might be a chicken shit who’s too afraid to take a chance, but I can live with that. The real question is…how long can she?
I blinked and it was suddenly Friday.
I don’t know if this week was any busier than usual or if I’ve just been completely on edge about my plan to come clean to Trevor about how I feel and what I want. Either way, tonight is the night. I seriously considered waiting until Sunday or maybe even Monday, just in case the conversation doesn’t end well—but Logan insisted that it had to be tonight. She’s convinced that it will go well and that I’ll want the weekend to celebrate. I decided to go along with her timeline, just for the sake of getting her off my case, but I really have no idea how things will go.
True to her word, she helped me figure out exactly how I want to do it. His last appointment of the day is at five. He promised that he’d be home by seven. That leaves me plenty of time to cook his favorite dinner. Chicken Alfredo over angel hair pasta. I make the sauce from scratch and he loves it. I’ll get us some wine and I’ll set the dining room table he hardly ever uses. I’ll even light a couple candles.
That last bit was Logan’s idea, of course. I shot it down at first, but then she convinced me that they would serve as the first hint that tonight is going to be different. Important. Honestly, I could use all the help I can get.
Then he’ll, inevitably, ask me what’s going on and I’ll tell him everything.
Or at least, I’ll try.
“Did we get it all?” asks Roman, distracting me from my thoughts. He got up early so that he could come help Logan and me move the boxes from the kitchen into her bedroom before she went to work and he headed to yoga. After that task was complete, he helped us carry our weekend bags to the car and the perishables I plan on storing in Trevor’s fridge, which I’m sure has plenty of space.
“Yeah. I think we’re good,” Logan answers as she goes to stand beside him. He drapes his arm around her waist and she smiles up at him before tugging on his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. Without her heels on, it’s harder for her to steal one. He goes willingly and I watch them with interest. They fascinate me. “Thank you for helping,” she murmurs.
“You’re welcome,” he says, kissing her once more.
“I’ve got to get going. I’m gonna to be late.” She turns to break away from him but he reaches out and secures her waist between his hands, pulling her back. She giggles through another kiss.
“Get your shoes. You’re going to be late,” Roman demands with a grin, playfully pushing her away.
She lifts herself up onto her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek before she hurries her way back to her room to gather her purse and her heels. My gaze stays locked on Roman—at least, I’m pretty sure that’s who’s standing in front of me.
“What?” he asks, catching me as I stare.
“You’re different with her. I haven’t seen you like this since…Katie.” He knits his eyebrows together, as if to convey his bewilderment, and anxiously combs his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you out.” I pause for a second and then laugh. “Actually, I did. I’m glad for you, that’s all.”
“Thanks, Daph,” he says with a small smile.
“Don’t hurt her. I know you guys aren’t official yet and you’re trying to find your way, but be ca
reful. And before you get all defensive, know that she’s been given the same warning, okay?” He nods just as Logan returns.
“Alright, the contractors will be here in about an hour. Everything is in it’s place—”
“Your outrageously expensive rug has been rolled up,” Roman interrupts.
“Yes,” Logan says with a laugh. “Thanks to you, who has admitted to appreciating its value. Now we should be all set. They said they’d call me when they are finished. Say: so long, kitchen,” she tells me, waving over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes and then we all head to our cars, calling out goodbyes as we go. Just as I’m about to drop into my driver’s seat, Logan runs over to me and gives me a big hug. “I love you! Good luck tonight. Call me if you need anything,” she whispers into my ear.
I made her swear to keep my plans for tonight a secret. The last thing I want is for everyone to be waiting expectantly. I still maintain that this whole thing might end up breaking my heart.
I shake off the thought and squeeze my bestie, soaking up all of her love and support. I really wouldn’t be about to do any of this if it wasn’t for her. “I love you, too. Thank you.”
“Okay—I really have to go. Bye, Skank!”
A half an hour later, I’m pulling into Trevor’s driveway. It’s still pretty early for him to be up yet, so I don’t bother knocking. I feel a little weird using my key to get inside. He gave it to me forever ago and I forget I have it all the time. I’m hardly ever here without him and so I don’t have much use for it.
I bring my bag of refrigerator goods in with me, stowing it away before I go looking for him. His bedroom door is open and I stop at the threshold, temporarily mesmerized by the sight of him. His blanket and sheets are tangled around his feet. He probably got hot during the night. He doesn’t usually run his air conditioning and prefers to sleep with just an open window; something about the noise night makes and a fresh breeze. It’s the country boy in him.
You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.
