The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

  “Yeah, it’s in there on the ottoman,” Dad says, pointing a crooked finger.

  “Dinner’s in fifteen minutes,” I remind her as she scurries away still wearing her yoga gear.

  “How you doin’, Pops?” I carry the two bags over to the island counter in his kitchen.

  “Good. The light went out on the fridge again. Can you check it?”

  I nod. “Sure.” Swinging the door of the refrigerator open, I notice that the temperature isn’t nearly as cold as it should be. But it doesn’t much matter because there’s hardly in food in there to spoil. “We’re gonna get you a new refrigerator,” I tell him, not seeing any upside to this piece of junk. It’s one of those vintage refrigerators that somehow resembles a Volkswagen bus. This man could afford a thousand new refrigerators, but he’s tight as a spring with his money. “How long have you had this thing? Since the seventies? It’s a dinosaur.”

  “No, it’s fine. It runs like butter.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” I say, rolling my shirt sleeves up higher so I can reach back to where the light is. “Because this problem you’re constantly having with the light back here says otherwise. You like stainless steel?”

  Dad scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Get out of there then if you’re gonna condemn me like that.”

  After jiggling the bulb underneath the cover, the orange light floods the top shelf, illuminating his stash of block cheese and a lonely pear. Shutting the door, I head over to the cupboards. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just sayin’. It’s not like you can’t afford something nice for yourself every once in a while.” Pulling three plates from a kitchen cabinet, I set them around the dining table where Dad still sits, nearly motionless.

  “You look after your own stuff. I’ve made it this far. I’m getting around just fine.”

  “Are you?” I fish three sets of silverware from the drawer next to the sink.

  “Mhmm.” He chews on his tongue for a minute before he points that finger at me. “I built that business up from nothing. Started in the garage with your mother by my side. She had a—”

  “Hand mixer, a sturdy pot, and some dipping tools,” I say, knowing the story like it’s my own to tell.

  “In fact, it’s a dying shame you can’t get caramels off the shelves. Everybody loves caramel. But you somehow managed to make caramel so unappealing it moves slower than molasses.”

  “Thanks, Pops. That’s a good one,” I say, with every ounce of sarcasm. It’s a constant thing for him to give me a hard time. And he’s also right, but that doesn’t make it any easier of a pill to swallow. Ever since I touched the family business, it’s gone downhill. In fact, it seems to have tanked with my existence as CEO. Tanked and still tanking.

  “An international multi-billion dollar business,” he says with a shake of his head. “And we can’t sell a caramel to save our lives.”

  Raising my eyebrows in warning that I’m not down with the negativity tonight, I shake my head. I’ve been dwelling in the failure enough on my own.

  “Don’t look at me like that, son. I passed it down to you for a reason.”

  “I know,” I assure him. “Look, the business isn’t going anywhere.”

  “But the caramel—”

  I laugh, somehow always feeling a ridiculous pull of inadequacy when it comes to my dad talking business at me. “Not every product is gonna be a winner. We tried it, now we move on. We’re fine otherwise. We have nothing to worry about.”

  “Dixon told me your other little venture timed out. The cherries or whatever.”

  Feeling my jaw set as I unpack the three containers of food, I blink hard. “I’ve got a few more ideas I’m passing to Development, so we’ll see.”

  “You can’t run a business on the foundation of we’ll see.”

  Nodding so I don’t say something stupid, I sit across from him. I don’t even want to make eye contact, but it feels like he busts my chops like this every time we’re together anymore. Some days I leave his place feeling like the scum of the earth. “You’re right, Pops,” I say, wanting to drop it.

  “Are you thinking of selling?” He sets his jaw and stares at me, his blue eyes flickering with something akin to rage. “Because you can’t. You need to get profits back up where they needs to be before you do anything like that. I didn’t hand you the family heirloom for you to set it on fire and walk away.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. Staring at him, I feel a boiling heat rise up the back of my neck. It’s embarrassing to have someone call you out like this for the disappointment you’ve caused. But knowing I can and should do better, I nod. “Understood.”

  “You still seeing that lady from work?”

  Clearing my throat, I focus my attention on the food containers in front of me. Susan and I had met through one of my sales reps. We’ve only dated for a few weeks now, but even still— I hardly know anything about her besides the fact that she has two older kids of her own and enjoys her lack of work-life balance just about as much as I do. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He cocks an eyebrow and props his head on his fist. “You know what they say about a man with multiple marriages under his belt? He knows how to pick ‘em.” Pop presses his lips together and looks up at me from under his wiry silver brow. “If only you could get that to translate back to the candy.”

  Subtly gritting my teeth, I shake my head. “I’m not interested in another marriage,” I say under my breath.

  “Why’s that? I ended up with two others before I found myself in love and married to your mother. You know that.”

  “Yeah. This is different. I don’t want that for Nora.” I slide Pop’s chicken parmesan container over to him. “She’s already dealt with a lot for such a young age,” I add, not ready to take on any more drama than I already have. Besides that, this thing with Susan is fleeting.

  “Then why are you dating at all?”

  “Nora,” I say, calling her name in the direction of the living room. “Time to eat!” Uncovering the container of spaghetti, I scoop an eyeballed serving onto her plate. “Good question,” I say with a nod, knowing my heart just doesn’t beat the same way with Susan as it once did with Hadley. “Guess I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

  Hadley

  “It’s Summer solstice,” my friend Landon says as we sit in Dark Park, enjoying live music for the evening. She sits a few feet to my right next to her boyfriend Henry. They’d brought his kids— Ryley and Cohen from Yoga For Youngins.

  “The longest day of the year? Is it really?” I ask, realizing just how quickly time flies when you’re living your best life and fighting like heck to make all of your yoga dreams come true.

  “Yep. The Fourth of July will be here before we know it. Slow down, Time,” she lilts, shooting me a grin. She’s wearing a pink jersey-knit skirt with a white T-shirt, her hair in braids, laid back surfer vibes just like she always sports. In fact, Landon’s one of the coolest cats I know in North Carolina.

  The hazy sun sinks over the nearby brick library, throwing the last of it’s hot June rays on my skin.

  Having brought Pepper as my plus one tonight, I sit cross-legged on the grass as Ryley and Cohen lie barefoot on an old patchwork quilt a few skips ahead of Landon and Henry. They both toss Pepper hot dog bun scraps every few bites of their dinner. She undoubtedly loves the treats until they grow enamored with the trio of dueling fiddlers who call themselves Pickin’ Strings as they play us into a summer reverie from their spot up there on the wooden stage at the front of the park.

  Pepper sits on her haunches, alert, tethered to her cobalt blue leash but completely infatuated by all the action going on around us— families convening, kids playing in the freshly mown lawn, a few larger, cautious dogs making their rounds with their owners by their sides.

  Out of my periphery, I happen to see Henry slide his arm around Landon and press a kiss to her cheek. They’ve been dating for what seems like much longer than they actually have. But he runs in the same im
portant circles as Parker and Owen and Nathan and the rest of the unbelievably rich guys here in Shoals Island. Through Landon and Henry’s short time together, they’d quickly become a real-life Emily Blunt and John Krasinski. Even still, their relationship always reads like brand new love. Not that I know what that is firsthand, but I do enjoy the sentiment of it.

  “Are Parker and Nora coming?” Landon asks, popping the lid off of a Tupperware container she’d brought with her. Leaning toward me, she holds the box over, silently offering me a Bing cherry.

  Taking one, I smile and pop the orb into my mouth and savor the sweet tang that bursts onto my tastebuds. “Thanks, those are delicious. And I’m not sure actually. I haven’t seen them since Yoga For Youngins the other evening.”

  Landon nods. “Ryley’s been asking. She’s eager to see her again. How’s it going, by the way? They are both pumped about your class every week,” she whispers, shimmying her eyebrows, obviously not wanting either of Henry’s kids to hear.

  My insides flood with happiness knowing that they both seem to enjoy the class. “That’s great. It’s going well. Kids are a handful, but I’m glad you convinced me to give it a try,” I laugh, still not knowing whether teaching children is something I’d like to turn into a full-time endeavor at the studio. Teaching, in general, exhausts me. Adding the energy of ten kids to the mix? I’m pooped halfway through class and rendered completely useless by the time it’s over. “Ryley and Nora are thick as thieves in the night though. They’re always cracking me up,” I say just before pulling the cherry pit from my mouth and tossing it to an empty spot on the grass away from everyone.

  Landon laughs. “I know how that goes.”

  Suddenly, my phone beeps. Pulling it from my bag, I find a text message from an unknown number.

  Unknown: Hey babe. Want to get together for a little mischief tonight?

  Zeroing in on the words as a sickly feeling surges my stomach, I furrow my brow.

  Mischief? Really?

  This has to be Craig, the guy I’d gone out with last week. Yep. Mischief seems right up his alley.

  “I do not have time for that kind of mischief,” I grumble as I quickly swipe over to his number and block him. I can do that, right? I can totally ignore someone’s advances without feeling ashamed. Especially when they include things like mischief.

  “Hey.” A warm body sinks down in the empty spot to my right and holds a red plastic cup out to me.

  Parker.

  “Hey,” I breathe, a smiling flitting to my lips, all of my personal drama suddenly melting away into the instant joy of having him join us. “What’s this?”

  “Your favorite.”

  “Diet Coke?” I grin. It’s our inside joke that he brings me a Diet Coke whenever he can fit it into his narrative. It all started when he kept accidentally bringing me the wrong soda on our third date at the movie theatre. At the time, I swore it was fine, but he kept getting back up and going to the concession until he got it right. Still, secretly, I think he might have been joking me the entire time. How do you forget two words the fifty feet it takes you to walk from movie seat to concession stand? Diet. Coke. “No way,” I laugh. “You didn’t.”

  Parker smirks and sips from his own red cup. “Of course.”

  “Welp, thank you. Landon was just asking about you guys,” I say, pressing my shoulder into his.

  As if on cue, Henry and Landon both glance over and wave at Parker.

  “Yeah. Nora’s off to the races already,” he laughs under his breath, throwing a nod to where she’s now jumping up and down like a tossed hot potato next to Ryley. “Nora,” he calls, waving her in.

  Spotting me, her mouth instantly shoots open as she races to meet me next to her dad, smothering me with a hot hug. “Secret,” she giggles, cupping her mahogany-dark hair behind her ear. Leaning close, she whispers something, her breath cascading down the side of my face. “I think Daddy might be able to let me get a dog soon.”

  “Really?” I chuckle, glancing up at her where she stands a few inches taller than me.

  With wide eyes, she nods and swipes a stray gnat from her cheek. “Yes, really. If I’m a good girl.” Kicking her pink jelly sandals off into the grass, she claps her hands. “I’m excited.”

  “Wow, well that was quick. I’m impressed,” I say with a wink. She slightly curtsies and moves over in front of her dad, squatting to look him straight in the eye. “Daddy, can I go please play with Ryley and Cohen?”

  “Where are they going?” he asks, sincerely studying her. The way he looks at her makes my heart hurt with all the adoration he carries, a flame that burns so deep, I can’t even imagine the light it lets off.

  “Right there,” she lilts, whipping her arms over to where the two kids are now standing, watching, waiting for her to join them. “They brought slime!”

  “Did they? You can play with them if you stay on their blanket.”

  “We can’t leave it?”

  Parker stones his face. “Tuck that lip in. You can stay in the grass between us and the blanket. But you don’t go further than that blanket, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” she grins. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  The way she says yes, sir makes my insides stir in a handful of ways, seeing them one-on-one like this.

  Just then, Ryley skips over to Nora and whispers something to her just as she’d done to me. Nora nods. “Hadley, can we please take Pepper for a walk?”

  “No walk,” Parker answers for me.

  “Oh, I don’t mind—”

  “No.” He shakes his head.

  “Please, Daddy?” Nora bats her thick eyelashes like she practices it in the mirror for moments just like this. “Hadley said yes. We’ll be good and quiet.”

  Looking over at me, Parker studies my face. “They can,” I whisper.

  “Fine. Just go sit with him though. No walking around.”

  “Pepper is a her,” Nora says, her tone completely offended as she glares at her dad.

  “That’s what I said,” he chuckles.

  “No, you called her a him.”

  Pointing at her, Parker dips an eyebrow. “Are you sweet-talking me, girl?”

  Nora giggles at his relaxed tone, knowing good and well she’s not in trouble for back-talking. “No, I’m not sweet-talking, Daddy. I’m just sayin’ she’s a her. We’ll be quiet and careful.” Gingerly taking the leash from me, she waves at me as Ryley’s eyes grow big as gumballs.

  “Hold on tight,” Parker says, a look of nervousness plastered to him as the two girls run back over to the blanket and into the hot evening shade of their own world.

  “You’re so good with her,” I wistfully say.

  Parker studies the stage, his eyes darting from where Nora and Ryley now sit with their legs straight out in front of them like rag dolls, already knuckle-deep in a few different neon-colored slimes as Pepper lays between them, overseeing. “Being good with children is a myth, you know.”

  Furrowing my brow, I try to connect his dots. “Really?”

  Parker nods, fighting a smile. “No one’s good with children until they have to be. It’s an acquired trait.”

  “Duly noted,” I say, suddenly feeling shy as I study the carbonation of my Diet Coke. Maybe I’ve been wrong about kids all along.

  Hadley

  “So I hate to admit this, but I think I’m done with the candy business,” Parker says before gulping from his drink, his Adam’s apple moving with every swallow. “Just want to wash my hands of it all.”

  “Did something happen?” I ask, suddenly worried that he’s dealing with a crappy week.

  A painful-sounding laugh slips through his taut lips as he grits his teeth. “You could maybe say that. Hit a bad batch of caramel.” Parker shrugs and glances down at my knees. “Who knew you could mess up caramel? I thought everyone liked caramel.”

  “I like caramel,” I agree, trying to relieve his obvious defeat.

  “Me too. Well, I don’t actually. But that’s beside th
e point. I suppose I did it wrong. Turned it gourmet, launched it all across the country. In 749 different shops. Tell me, Hadley. How does one screw up gourmet caramel?”

  Watching his profile, I notice him fidgeting with the hem of his khaki shorts as he focuses in on the stage of musicians again. “I’m not sure,” I say. “But that’s okay, isn’t it? Your next product will do better.”

  Glancing over at me, he blinks expectantly. “To be honest, I don’t know if I want there to be a next product. Haven’t told my dad that yet either. It’s a huge bomb to drop on someone who demands you run everything just as well as he did. I was never a candy man.”

  “Really? Because you’re kinda the modern-day Willy Wonka in my book,” I tease.

  Parker nods and slaps his fingers to his jaw. “You know I hate when people say that.”

  “I know. That’s probably why I couldn’t help myself.” Suddenly feeling an anxious pit fill my stomach, I clear my throat. “But seriously, I’m sorry. That’s rough. Jerry can be severe.”

  He flashes me an expression of helpless eloquence that tells me he doesn’t want to give away all his cards just yet, and I don’t blame him. “It’ll be fine. I’m just in one of my moods.”

  “Well.” Blinking at his truth, I nod, the air falling silent between us until I decide to let him in on one of my own personal squanders. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m done, too. With romance.”

  “Are you really?” Parker’s eyes swoop over to me as he smirks, just as surprised by my admission as I am. “You mean done for good?”

  Grinning, I shrug and pull my knees to my chest in defense. “Seems so.”

  Shaking his head, he beams. “Now what in the world could’ve caused that? Tell me it wasn’t our disastrous two months together.”

  Though I realize he’s joking, his use of the word disastrous puts a tiny dent in me. A quiet part of me thinks if I hadn’t shunned the idea of us being together to wholeheartedly pursue my yoga business, we might still be together.

  “Hey, our time together wasn’t that bad,” I hum, my eyes falling to the grass in front of us. “It’s not that. Obviously.”