The Years Between Us

by Stephanie Vercier

  “I’d appreciate it.” His authentic concern in not knowing her whereabouts or whether or not she’s okay is heartbreaking.

  He relaxes some on the drive back, asking me how my day was, wanting to know if I had any trouble with Rhonda. He’s pleasantly surprised to find out she’s in my corner and how that will probably help in convincing my parents to let me finish out the summer in Echo Ridge.

  “Here I wanted to be the strong one for you,” he tells me when we get to the house and head inside. “And yet you’re the one making me feel better.” He pulls me to him, and it feels so good just to be in his arms, to hold one another and feel like everything will be okay as long as we have each other.

  “I needed a rock yesterday,” I tell him, looking up into his eyes. “And that’s what you were for me. Today, you need one. Let me text Danielle and make dinner. I’m guessing you probably have some work to do?”

  “I do, but—”

  “No buts. Go upstairs to your office. I’ll make dinner and find a way to get a hold of her, okay?”

  He doesn’t look like he wants to budge, like he has to be the one with all the strength, the one to take care of everything. But, even if I’m inexperienced, I know that’s not how relationships work—they can’t be one-sided, one person doing all the caring and not getting enough in return.

  “Luke,” I push. “I really want to make dinner, okay?”

  “You sure you aren’t nauseous or anything? You don’t want to put your feet up?”

  I stare him down. “No morning sickness today. I feel great. So come on, out of my way, okay?”

  His stiffened body relaxes when he lets out a deep breath. “Okay,” he finally says, giving me a quick kiss before heading upstairs.

  Left alone, I find my way around the kitchen and decide to make a simple spaghetti dinner, texting Danielle after I’ve slid the pasta into some boiling water:

  Are you okay? Your dad is worried.

  It’s a simple text, not one asking for forgiveness quite yet or me wanting to make her understand my relationship with her dad. I know that’s something that will take a while, and it can’t be forced.

  After I’ve put together a salad, drained the pasta and heated some marinara sauce, I still haven’t gotten a reply. She could be out of range or have her phone off, but I kind of doubt that. I’m pretty sure she’s just ignoring me. So, I text several of our friends at WSU, make up a story that some of my contacts aren’t getting my text messages and ask them to text Danielle to make sure she’s okay. All of them get back to me before I’ve finished making garlic bread, and when they ask if something is wrong with Danielle, I remain silent on the details and reiterate a request for them to just please text her. I’m sure they know something is up, but they all agree and let me know they’ll keep me posted.

  The only thing I really want is to know that Danielle is safe so that I can calm Luke’s fears. So, that’s all I expect as I set the dining room table, laying out some nice plates, silverware, a pitcher of ice water and a beer for Luke. This will be a change from our usual setting of sitting on the couches in the living room and using the coffee table as our dinner table. Once I set all of the food down, I take a moment to admire my work, a moment that is interrupted when a text rolls in. It’s from Danielle.

  Nice trick getting our friends to text me. I’m fine BTW. I’m with Carlos and need some time. You can tell my dad I still love him, but this won’t be okay overnight.

  Oh, thank god. At least she responded.

  Me: I understand. Thank you so much for texting back. I will tell him. Be safe.

  I run up to Luke’s office, and he’s already deep into a work project.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I tell him after knocking at the trim around his door.

  He turns to me. “Ah, that’s sweet of you, Claudia. You didn’t have to cook for me, you know?” He shuts down some computer programs and jumps up from his chair, walks over to me, pulls me into a hug and plants some kisses on my neck.

  “Yes, I know,” I say, trying not to giggle at the tickling of his beard against my skin. “But it barely even puts a dent in all the times you’ve cooked for me and Danielle.”

  He freezes at the mention of her name.

  “She’s okay,” I assure him, stepping back to look in his eyes, not wanting to waste another second in sharing the news with him. “I heard from her. She’s with Carlos, and they’re both fine.”

  Immediately, he breaks free of me to head back to his desk where he grabs his phone. “She didn’t text me anything.”

  I can see how disappointed he is that she never responded to him.

  “She didn’t really get back to me because she wanted to,” I share, not wanting him to think she’d somehow chosen to talk to me instead of him. “I had to get a little creative and get some of our friends to hound her.”

  His eyes lift toward me, but I don’t think that makes him feel any better.

  “She wanted me to tell you she loves you, but she needs some time.” I step back to him and rest my hands on his shoulder.

  He nods in understanding and smiles. “Thank you.”

  We head downstairs to eat, and he’s complimentary of my cooking, even if I’m not the greatest. He tries to lighten the mood a few times, but I can tell that he’s still upset about his daughter. Knowing that she’s safe is one thing, but having her angry with him is another. Even telling him that she loves him, he still knows that he’s disappointed her.

  When it’s time to take care of the dishes, he absolutely insists on helping, then tells me he wants me in bed and off of my feet and relaxing while he does a few more hours of work.

  I hate to leave him alone, even though his job is important and maybe the time by himself is what he needs. But when he crawls into bed, awakening me with his movement, I decide to give him the one thing that I know will free his mind for just a little while.

  “We don’t have to use a condom anymore,” I tell him, dragging my hand down his chest once he’s in bed.

  He smiles, the only faint light in the room from a floor lamp in the corner neither of us had turned off. “You aren’t tired?”

  “Not too tired for you.” I rub a hand down his side, reaching the band of his boxer briefs and then pushing down further and gripping his hardness.

  His eyes grow heavy with desire, with that need the both of us have for one another. Our lips meet softly as he pulls at my panties, dragging them all the way down my bent legs so that I only have to slip them over my ankles. I’m tugging at his briefs too, and he makes short work of that, moving away from me only to take them off, and then we’re touching, skin to skin.

  He’s above me, parting my legs, his wet lips around my puckered nipples, one of my hands caught in his hair, the other gripping to his muscled side. Just this, just his touch would be enough to send me into orgasmic bliss, but once he eases his erection into me, I’m done for, my eyelashes fluttering and my eyes rolling upward.

  I cry out his name, once… twice… maybe three times. I feel so close to him when he’s inside me, when we’re connected not just by our bodies but our souls.

  “What would I do without you?” he whispers into my ear while he thrusts his hardness into me, his body flexing in a wave-like motion over mine.

  “I don’t want to find out,” I whisper, sliding my fingers up and down his back and over his roughened skin, loving the feel of his weight on me like a protector, like a conqueror.

  In this moment, it’s just he and I—that’s it. Nobody else exists when my body tightens and then loosens, humming with pleasure as Luke comes into me, his own body stiffening and then finally relaxing. We are still connected when he moves just to my side and pulls me with him, our foreheads nearly touching, our eyes in focus.

  “I love you,” we both seem to say at once.

  Let that be enough. Let love be enough to bring us through this.

  Chapter Thirty

  CLAUDIA

  I’ve never seen Luke this str
essed out. He’s taking on the weight of the world it seems, putting long hours into his work projects while trying to make sure I’m okay and then worrying about Danielle and the fact that it’s been a week since he’s spoken a word to her. I keep trying to assure him that she’s okay, but I’m not sure that he really believes that, and he seems to be afraid that their relationship has been forever altered.

  And then there are his continued trips to Seattle that he’d had to admit weren’t just about work, the last one being just yesterday.

  “How do I explain to you why I need to do this?” he’d said to me last night over dinner. “I need you to know that you’re my priority, but there are things happening with Isabelle, and I can’t abandon her.”

  “Why is it she needs you so much?” I’d asked him, wanting to embrace whatever it was he felt he needed to do but also afraid that his continued involvement in her life would eventually hurt us.

  “She’s ill,” he said. “And her husband is a worthless piece of shit… sorry, but he is. It’s mostly for Dani that I do it. She needs her mom to be as healthy as possible.”

  “I understand,” I’d told him. But I’m not sure I did… I’m not sure I do.

  With him working so hard and it being my day off, I decide to face my fear of driving the Tesla and run into town on my own and get a few groceries for dinner. Plus, I’d dealt with some morning sickness a couple more times this week and wanted to try some of the foods I’d read were good at quelling it. It’s worth a shot.

  Since my relationship with Luke had become public, I’d been afraid that we’d be the subject of stares and conversations behind our backs in town. And while I’d gotten some questions from the waitresses at the diner and an inquiry from a loyal shopper at The Nut Monger, Luke and I being together had not been the giant scandal I’d feared. It’s with this relative sense of ease that I go into the grocery store and get a small cart, pushing it around and filling it with stuff for dinner as well as the pretzels, lemons, gingersnaps and fruit-flavored popsicles I’d read might quell my nausea. I’m just turning into the bakery when I spot one of the last people I want to see.

  Emily.

  I make a sharp turn to head down the cookie aisle in hopes of avoiding her, but she lifts her attention from whatever she’d been looking at and sees me. Her eyes widen, and she starts walking in my direction. I should just make a run for it—I could. There’s no reason I need to be nice to her, but then I start thinking maybe there is. Maybe I can reason with her and keep her from doing anything to create more trouble for me and Luke.

  “Claudia,” she says, looking beautiful in a black sundress and heels, hair and make-up done like she’s planning on attending some kind of gala celebration.

  “Hello, Emily,” I say, trying, but not succeeding at hiding my displeasure.

  “You’re certainly looking well. Interesting grouping of items you’ve got there.” She eyes my cart.

  “It’s just the usual.”

  Now she seems to be inspecting each thing I’ve put inside the cart. “Lemons, pretzels and popsicles don’t seem like the usual for anyone, but to each their own.”

  “Yes, to each their own,” I say, looking into the basket slung over her arm where a box of Twinkies sit.

  She actually blushes and puts a head of lettuce over the Twinkies box as if to hide it from anyone else who might see it. “Do you have a few minutes… for some coffee?” She nods her head toward the Starbuck’s inside the grocery store.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Just for a few minutes.” She’s insistent. “And then you can get back to whatever it was you were doing.”

  I sigh, and against my better judgment, I accept.

  Unsure if caffeine would be good for our growing baby, I stick with some herbal tea, something Emily seems to take note of as she orders a latte with a double shot of espresso.

  “I live on caffeine,” she says while they’re preparing our drinks, then when we sit down at a small table together adds, “I’m lucky if I sleep five hours a night.”

  “Maybe you should cut back on the coffee then,” I say, blowing on the hot herbal tea.

  “I wouldn’t get anything done if I did that. Besides the restaurant and the hotel, I’ve got a winery in Napa I keep tabs on and several thousand acres of orange groves in Florida. And then there’s the rental property in New York City.”

  “That’s a lot.” I’m curious as to how she acquired all of that and why it’s all on opposite ends of the country, but really not curious enough to ask and draw out our conversation even more.

  “It is, but it keeps me happy. I’ve been married twice and kept some of what I’d earned during those marriages. But don’t for a moment think I sit around and collect checks like some pampered housewife. I’m heavily invested, in time and energy, to all of my ventures.”

  Is Luke a venture? I’m tempted to ask her that, but I’m afraid to bring his name up, afraid to be reminded they have a sexual history.

  “What is this about?” I ask, looking down at the table and then back at her. “Is there something you want to talk to me about other than your business ventures?”

  Her face tightens, but only for a moment. “Right to the point. I can appreciate that. The moment I saw you at my restaurant with Luke, I knew you might be something to contend with.”

  “As if I had an agenda?” I ask, feeling incredibly defensive. “I came to Echo Ridge so I wouldn’t have to spend two months in Florida. There was never an intention to be anything more to Luke than a house guest.”

  She smiles at me, looking like she doesn’t quite believe me. “However you came together, you’re together now. And as a fellow woman, I think it’s my duty to warn you about Luke.”

  I roll my eyes and start to get up. “I really don’t have time for this.”

  “Wait.” She reaches out and takes hold of my wrist. “I think you should hear me out. Have his trips to Seattle continued?”

  I ease back into the chair. “That’s not any of your business.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. You know, that ex-wife of his is always going to come first. She did when he and I were together. When I asked him to take things to the next level, he said he couldn’t, said he needed to be available to Isabelle.” She lets out an annoyed laugh. “I’d done a little research on his ex-wife, and let me tell you—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I snap, shaking my head, needing to trust Luke where his ex-wife is concerned. “And even if I did, why should I believe anything you say? Why are you so hell bent on making problems for me and Luke?”

  She breaks eye contact, looks down at the table and into her coffee. It’s like she’s resolving something within herself, and when she lifts her gaze back up to me, it feels as though she’s ready to share just what that thing is.

  “There aren’t many men like Luke Prescott, successful, caring and drop dead gorgeous. Especially not a lot of men like that when you get into your thirties,” she says somewhat wistfully. “I’ve married powerful, attractive men, but they’ve been older with habits I eventually found annoying. But there wasn’t much to be annoyed about with Luke, except for that damn ex-wife and his unwillingness to commit to something beyond the sexual.”

  I hate hearing this, hate hearing about her being with the man I love, but I wait because maybe there actually is something I really need to hear in all of this.

  “I ran off to Napa to get over him, and I’d never had to run to get over any man, but it hurt, and I didn’t want him to see me hurting. Knowing Luke, he’d start coming around just to console me, make me feel better, and the last thing I want from any man, anyone at all, is sympathy.”

  “Did you want another chance with him?” I ask, pushing past my discomfort to attempt to put all of the pieces together. “That time you came into The Nut Monger, telling me about his ex-wife… did you know then he and I could have something?”

  She grins. “I’m a perceptive woman. The moment I saw you and the wa
y Luke looked at you out the corner of his eye at the bar and grill, I just knew… and damn if it didn’t piss me off. Men like pretty young things, but I hadn’t pegged Luke for chasing a girl half his age around.”

  “That’s not what this is,” I say defensively. “What, do you think I’m some young dumb girl that he just wants to mold into something perfect for him?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not what I think at all. I’d wanted to imagine that at first, to think you’d just be a brief obsession for him and that I could come back in and get another chance. But you aren’t some scared little girl. You’re a woman, and Rhonda thinks the world of you. It pains me to say it, but I think you’re just what Luke has always wanted.”

  There is an unreal quality to this conversation because Emily appears to be complimenting me, to be telling me she thinks I’m right for Luke. And if Emily Wells is able to say it, then it must be true.

  “Why are you telling me all of this again?” I’ve never been good with people that seem like your enemy one day and your friend the next. “Especially after you went and told David about me and Luke—you had to know it would get back to Danielle and take away Luke’s right to tell her himself.”

  She shrugs, stirring her coffee with the small spoon. “I was angry when I saw the two of you together, kissing when…” She closes her eyes for a moment and breathes, then slowly opens them again. “When I remember what it felt like to be kissed by him,” she finishes. “But I knew from just those few brief moments that there was more love in the way he touched you then there’d ever been for me.” She repositions, straightening her posture. “I was pissed, Claudia. A woman has a right to be pissed once in a while, and when David came over—”

  She cuts herself off, and I nudge my chin forward and raise my brows in silent questioning, waiting for her to finish the sentence. When she doesn’t say anything, when she looks away, I say, “David came over… to your house?”