“That’s next weekend,” Devlyn says, unable to hide the shock in her voice.
“Did you have something else in mind?”
Her head shakes. “You haven’t mentioned telling Mia until now, so I’m surprised you’ve got this whole plan.”
“It’s not fair to her to hide it, and it’s not fair to you, either,” I say. She leans over the tub, gently kissing me. “There’s something I need you to understand, though.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not going to be like this. At least not until Mia’s away at school. I won’t be able to stay at your place, and you can’t sleep here.”
“I knew that,” she says.
“And you’re okay with it?” I ask, having had more than one woman complain when I had to leave after sex.
“A little bit of you,” she says, leaning up and kissing me sweetly. “I only need a little bit of you.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” I say, flashing her a grin. “You only need the tip.”
“Garrett,” she laughs, playfully swatting my shoulder.
Planting a kiss on her lips, I say, “You have all of me.”
*
Curled up in one of my t-shirts, Devlyn’s fast asleep on my sofa, her feet in my lap. I adjust the blanket covering her. It was another great night, making dinner together. Well, Devlyn attempted to teach me how to cook. When she caught me grabbing the sugar instead of the salt, I was relegated to chopping things and cleaning up.
When I finished cleaning up, I found her curled up asleep on my sofa. Might have something to do with the fact that I had her for dessert. I lifted her feet up, placed them on my lap, and have been here ever since. We had the Mia talk, which went perfectly, but we only have one more day together, tomorrow.
I’m thinking we need to get out of town, a little day trip. She hasn’t complained, but Devlyn deserves better than hiding out in my house and cooking for me. My cell phone dings, and I look down, finding a few pictures from Mia—a selfie with my dad, a shell she found on the beach, the view from their room.
I type a little response and hit send. I’m expecting Mia to type something back, but instead my phone rings. Devlyn stirs a little, and I quickly accept. Declining the call isn’t an option. Mia knows I’m awake and have my phone, so I answer.
“Granddad let me drink this thing called a Bushwacker,” Mia says. “Don’t worry. He had them make it without alcohol.”
“What?” I ask.
“A Bushwacker,” she repeats.
I’m not one for fruity little cocktails. Give me a beer or a whiskey any day over that shit, and who the hell thought that was a good name for a drink? Thank God, Mia doesn’t seem to make any correlation between bush and a woman’s pubic hair, or at least she’s not acting like she does. I guess my father didn’t, either, or he would’ve bought her a virgin piña colada instead.
“So you’re having fun?” I ask quietly.
She tells me about the beach, the boys, the junk they’ve been eating, how nice the condo is, all the stuff she didn’t tell me about this morning during the charm bracelet crisis.
“You’re not giving your grandfather any problems, are you?” I ask, although I know she’s not.
“Why are you whispering?” she asks.
I look down at Devlyn. Not wanting to wake her, I try to slip her legs off my lap and get up, but she moans a little. Shit. “I’m not,” I say. “Must be a bad connection.” I realize if I want to whisk Devlyn away for the day tomorrow, I’ve got to have an excuse for my daughter. I don’t want her calling the store and being told I’m not there. “I might do some work on the pavilion site tomorrow, so if you need me, call my cell.”
I’m getting really good at sneaking around and lying. I haven’t lost my touch since my days with her mother, I guess.
“Okay,” she says. “I can barely hear you.”
I’m caught between having a real conversation with my daughter and waking up the half-dressed woman asleep in my lap. Gently, I give Devlyn’s foot a little rub. Her lip pouts, and she kicks her leg a little. Note to self, she’s grumpy when sleepy.
“Mia, hang on. We’ve had some bad storms here today. Maybe if I go outside.”
I hit the mute button on my phone and move to get up, but Devlyn throws the cover off and flips herself around so her head’s now in my lap. I run my fingers through her hair. “Okay, baby, you win,” I say, and Devlyn responds by nuzzling down deeper.
I try to talk a little louder. “Mia, is this better?”
“A little,” she says, starting to tell me about their plans for tomorrow. Listening, I look down at Devlyn’s face asleep in my lap. It’s the first time I’ve seen her like this, soft and sweet and sound asleep in my arms. Mia’s the last girl I held in my arms sleeping.
“Garrett,” Devlyn mumbles, sleepily.
I hold my finger up to her lips, and her eyes pop open. Luckily, Mia didn’t hear her, still chatting away. Sometimes the self-centered nature of teenagers can come in handy. Devlyn moves to sit up, but I shake my head at her, encouraging her back to my lap. I like her using me as her own personal mattress.
She lays there, smiling up at me. Grinning, I play with her hair. If someone saw us right now, we’d look like two lovestruck idiots. She doesn’t rush me off the phone. She doesn’t interrupt. She just waits patiently, smiling.
Apparently, that’s what Devlyn does for me. She waits and smiles. I’m one very lucky son of a bitch that no other guy snatched her up while I had my head stuck up my ass. She could be married with a houseful of kids of her own by now.
“Okay, goodnight, baby girl,” I say then toss my phone aside and pull Devlyn on top of me.
Her laugh fills the room as she grinds into me. “Are you hard twenty-four seven?”
Flashing her a wicked smile, I say, “Are you wet twenty-four seven?” I lean in close, letting my hand slip to her ass. “In fact, I bet you’re soaking . . .” Giggling, she tries to wiggle free, but my finger finds her. “Looks like I was right.”
She glares at me. “Cocky.” I take her hand, placing it on my bulge. She’s trying hard not to laugh, biting her bottom lip. “That’s where that word comes from. Because you arrogant guys all have big ole cocks.”
Pulling her tighter, I say, “And you love it.”
Her eyes leave mine, and she moves to get up. “How about some dessert? I can make you . . .”
Capturing her hand, I ask, “Why are you always cooking for me?”
She shrugs, looking down at our joined hands. “I don’t know. I guess for the longest time it was the only thing I had to offer you. If it wasn’t for the diner, you bringing Mia in for breakfast . . .” Her voice trails off. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Devlyn?”
“No,” she says. “It makes it sound like I’ve been sad and miserable for years, and that’s not the way it was.”
“I feel like I should apologize.”
She busts out in an angry laugh. “You don’t need to apologize for not loving me, Garrett.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Sometimes feelings aren’t fair,” she cries. I reach out for her, but she steps away. “You think it was fair how I felt about you? You think all these years that was fair?”
“I’m sorry. Or should I thank you?” I ask, throwing my hands up. “I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say.”
“That’s why I don’t want to talk about this,” she says. “There’s nothing for you to say.”
“All that’s over now,” I say.
“I know,” she whispers. “But those feelings haven’t completely faded yet.”
“I understand that.”
“It’s not right to blame you for what you didn’t know,” she says.
“I know now,” I say. “I promise . . .”
“I don’t like promises,” she says. “They always get broken.”
“No promises, no sixty-nine. Anything else?” I tease, and she smiles.
“Well, I’m going to make you a believer,” I say. “In promises and in sixty-nine.”
She laughs, and I take her in my arms. “My heart broke so many times for you,” she says. “It’s what my heart expects to happen. Garrett Hollis equals a broken heart.”
She doesn’t know it, but she just crushed mine. “Come with me,” I say, taking her hand and leading her outside. She pauses, dressed only in my t-shirt, the ground soaked from the storm. I motion to a pair of Mia’s flip-flops on the porch, and Devlyn slips them on.
Holding her hand, I lead her off the porch. It’s late and dark, and no one’s going to see us. The air smells fresh and crisp, the crickets are chirping, and the sky is clear. I look back at Devlyn, her eyes filled with questions.
I push open the door to the shop and flick on the light, my motorcycle centering the room. “Is that the famous bike?” she asks.
“Yep,” I say.
“It looks almost new.”
“You remember when I got it?” She nods, running her hand across the chrome. “It was a disaster. Broken.” Her blue eyes peer up at me, knowing why I’m showing it to her. “I’ve been fixing it for years.”
“Garrett, you didn’t mean to break my heart.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Just like with this bike, I’ll fix it. No matter how long it takes.”
*
Letters to Mia
First birthday
Dear Mia,
It’s your first birthday. I’ve decided I’m going to write you a letter every year on your birthday. It seems silly since you can’t even read yet. Can you talk? Have you said your first word? Was it Daddy? I’m sure it wasn’t Mommy. Why would it be? You have no idea what that is, I left. This is harder than I thought. There’s too much to say and not enough words. So I’ll write the four that have been a constant drumbeat in my heart since I walked out of that hospital.
Forgive me.
I’m sorry.
Until next year,
Your mom
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DEVLYN
“Ready?” Garrett asks, his hand on the knob of his front door.
It’s our last day together, and he wanted to make it special and take me out. Since we aren’t public knowledge in Eden Valley, he decided a day trip to Dahlonega, Georgia’s very own Napa Valley would do the trick. There are wineries and vineyards, and a quaint little town, and it’s the perfect spot for us to have our first real date.
Truthfully, I think Garrett picked it more for me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man drink a glass of wine in his life. I grab my purse, checking for my sunglasses. Garrett’s mapped out a back way to get there so we don’t have to drive through the prying eyes of town.
“Almost,” I say.
He just smiles at me. He must be used to waiting on a girl to get ready with Mia. A loud knock on the front door makes me jump. My eyes dart to him. He glances through the peephole. “It’s the mayor,” he mouths to me.
Another loud knock.
“Bedroom,” I mouth back, looking around for any evidence that needs to go hide in the bedroom with me. No bras or panties lying about, I think we’re good. Tiptoeing, I disappear into his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me, but I keep my ear to the door to listen.
“How can I help you this morning?” Garrett says.
“The pavilion,” I hear the mayor say. “I was at the site this morning. There’s not a board or nail in sight. Fourth of July is a month away.”
“It will be done,” Garrett says.
“I don’t see how,” the mayor says. “I stopped by the hardware store, and they told me you’ve been off. I thought perhaps you were on site, but all I found were the squirrels. If you’re no longer interested in the project, then . . .”
Oh no! Garrett can’t lose this project. I know he relies on the extra money. My hand goes to the knob of the bedroom door. How dare he threaten Garrett? Just wait until the next time he comes in the diner for coffee, black crap is what he’ll get.
“Of course I am,” Garrett says. “I’ll be out there tomorrow.”
“What about today?” the mayor asks.
“Tomorrow,” Garrett says with a tone to his voice that says not to mess with him.
Stupid man. I pull out my phone and send Garrett a text.
Go work. I’ll see you tonight.
I hear the ding from my hiding spot. His response is quick.
No.
Stubborn! My fingers type quickly.
I’m sneaking out the back. Go to work.
“Shit,” I hear Garrett say, knowing that’s his response to my text.
“Problem?” the mayor asks.
“No,” Garrett says, but his text orders me to Stay put!
“So you’ll start today?” the mayor asks.
I hear him give an aggravated yes, adding that he’ll be out there in a little bit. Once the door slams shut, I open his bedroom door, finding Garrett right in front of me.
“Thought I might find your sexy ass crawling out my bedroom window,” he says, with just a hint of irritation.
“You can’t lose this job,” I say.
“The mayor is a douchebag. He likes to throw his weight around sometimes. He would’ve backed off.”
“Maybe so,” I say. “But I couldn’t let you risk it for me.” He takes me in his arms, swatting my ass. I flash him a smile. “You can spank me later.”
*
I glance at Garrett as he walks into his store, needing to get a few things before he heads to the Falls. We staggered when we left, but I guess I walk slower than him, probably something to do with the spanking I got before I left. Mental note—don’t promise the man ass if you want him to get anything else done.
His smile lets me know he’s thinking about the same thing. I head for the diner feeling a tad bit naked without my tutu. I hadn’t packed one. I suppose I could’ve gone home to get one, but I need to conserve my energy. Garrett’s a machine.
Opening the door, I step inside, coming to an abrupt halt, the door slamming me in my already sensitive rear end. Only one person does that to me.
“Devlyn,” my mom says, raising an eyebrow at me. She’s sitting at the counter, wearing a flowery dress, her gray hair up in a bun. She’s the type of woman that’s always put together, that makes the rest of us look bad. “Running late today?”
I’m twelve years old again, standing tardy in front of class. Only this time it’s my customers staring at me. “No, actually I was supposed to be off today, but decided to come in for a few hours. What are you doing here?” I ask, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Surprising you,” she says. I love my mother, but she and I don’t see eye-to-eye a lot. Her blue eyes tend to only pass judgment. “Scott called me.”
“Oh, I was going to tell you about that, I just . . .”
“I had to hear from him that you two have broken up.”
“Why’d he call you?”
“He wanted to say goodbye, wish your father and I well. He’s a nice young man. Why on Earth would you turn down his proposal?”
Everyone in the place seems to collectively lean in a little closer. “Mom, can we not get into this here?”
“Fine, fine,” she says, waving her hands. “I just figured I better check on my daughter. Make sure you were alright.”
“That’s sweet, Mom,” I say, not adding that I wish she would’ve called first. “You didn’t need to drive here. I’m good.”
“Well, I’m here now,” she says. “We can spend some time together before we drive back tomorrow. Your father’s around town somewhere.”
“You’re staying the night?” I ask.
Her blue eyes study me. “Of course, you know it’s nearly six hours home.”
I know that means they plan on staying with me. Only problem is: I plan on staying with Garrett. My phone dings, and I pull it out. It’s from Garrett.<
br />
Your dad’s in my store!
With my mom’s eyes on me, I stuff it back in my pocket. “Devlyn, you’re being very rude. You haven’t seen us since . . .”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, hugging her. “You just surprised me. I had plans tonight. Of course, I’m happy to see you. Let me get you a drink or something.”
She watches me behind the counter as I place her favorite cherry danish in front of her. “You certainly don’t look heartbroken,” she says.
“Because I’m not,” I say. “Really, Mom, you don’t need to worry.”
Picking up her fork, she gives the place a glance. “Business looks good.”
Thank God, she’s changed the topic. Work is always a safe conversation for us. After all, Biscuit Girl was her baby before it was mine, we both love and cherish the place. “You miss it?” I ask.
“A little,” she says with a smile. “There’s this little place on the beach just a few blocks from our house. Your father and I walk by it almost every day. We always talk about how it would be the perfect location for a place like Biscuit Girl.”
“You and Daddy just retired,” I say. “Surely, you don’t want to start all over?”
“Well, we were thinking more about you. This place runs like a well-oiled machine. Maybe a new challenge? Biscuit Girl Two?” She raises her eyebrows. “Plus, we’d get to see you more.”
“Mom, I really don’t think . . .”
“Just come look at the place sometime. I can send you some pictures.”
“I’m not interested in moving right now,” I say, as the door to the diner opens, the mail carrier, Trudy, walking in.
“Mrs. Drake, is that you?” she says, holding her arms open. “I just ran into that handsome husband of yours. I had to come right over and say hello. Changed my route and everything.”
Her route? Town square? She did the stores out of order. Someone call the mail carrier authorities! She places my mail down on the counter, leaning in and saying, “Interesting that you’re back at work today, too.” My mom’s eyes go between Trudy and me. “Same off days as Garrett Hollis.”
All My Life Page 13
