My stomach flipped. “Evidently, some things haven’t changed.” I opened the drawer behind me, grabbed a paper, a pen, and started the shopping list. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Bones barked and chased his tail in the center of the floor.
Chloe smacked her lips. “I can’t wait. What time?”
“How about seven? That gives me time to go to the store and get things ready.” I ripped off the shopping list and shoved it in my pocket. “Can someone walk that dog?” I asked, searching for my purse.
“I want to go to the store with you,” Chloe said.
“Fine, if it’s okay with your dad,” I called from the entryway.
“I’ll walk the dog,” Bradley said.
“I’ll go with Bradley,” Mom added.
“Chloe, will you get the leash?” I asked with a smile.
She trotted into the kitchen. There was a heavy thud. The sound brought back memories of clunking heads, stitches, and John checking my head.
“I’m okay,” she announced.
“Slow down,” John scolded.
Chloe scooted past me, went outside, and got into the car.
John was on her heels. He caught my elbow on the porch. “You sure this is okay?”
“She can go to the store with me,” I said. John’s expression dimmed. “What?” I asked. His warm hand on my elbow was just as inviting as the night he kissed me then led me to the bedroom.
“I don’t want to intrude,” he replied.
My eyebrow shot up. It was a little late for that. I lowered my voice. “John, it’s okay.” I wanted to remind him that I thought of him as family. I thought of Chloe as family, for crying-out-loud, I took the girl to Chicago to see her mother while he worked, more like manipulated. “The more the merrier, generally speaking,” I added with a wink of my eye.
His expression mimicked my snarky attitude.
“It’s fine, really.” This time I reached out to him and patted his forearm. “Glad will be disappointed if you don’t stay.” I leaned in closer to him. “I think she has a crush on you.”
He leaned forward. We stood nose-to-nose. “More than her daughter?” he questioned.
His deep green eyes stared through me, I couldn’t look away.
Chloe called from the car.
“I have to go,” I said. “So are you coming to dinner or not?”
“I’ll be here.” John’s hand caught my elbow as I turned to go. His eyes focused on mine. “I know this isn’t the time or the place, but we need to set aside some time to talk.”
“Sure,” I replied, trotting down the front stairs, running away like the chicken I was. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want him to leave. There was comfort in knowing he was next door. He and Chloe had unexpectedly turned my life upside down after Beckett had broken my heart. I wasn’t up to another letdown and somehow John’s void would leave a hole unlikely to mend.
Chapter 17
When Chloe and I returned from the market, Bones was sacked out on his bed by my desk. Bradley was in the kitchen removing dishes from the cupboard for dinner. I counted the number of guests twice.
“I think we are five tonight,” I said, counting the six milkshake glasses.
“Um, no, there will be six,” Bradley corrected me.
He lowered his gaze and checked his phone. “Um, I hope you’re not mad, but dad is coming to dinner, too.”
Chloe carried in brown paper grocery bags and my mom milled around in the refrigerator trying to help. I moved closer to Bradley.
“What did you just say?” I asked. “It sounded like you said dad was joining us for dinner.” My voice was low and barely audible. My reaction saddened Bradley’s expression. I swallowed trying to wash away my pride. I’d unintentionally inflicted hurt upon my boy, the flesh and blood that meant the world to me.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I thought it would be okay. You always seem to be okay when we talk about dad.” He checked his phone again.
“Is that him?”
Bradley nodded.
“I’m sorry, honey, I haven’t seen your dad in months. I didn’t mean to be a downer.”
Bradley hugged me as Mom strolled by. She stopped to pat Bradley’s cheek.
“Get over it. It’s one dinner. And you’re right, Marjorie Jean, this is about Bradley, not you,” she lectured.
Bradley and I stared at each other in dismay.
“Geez,” I said under my breath.
“Beckett is harmless,” she added.
“I—”
She scowled at me.
Bradley whispered in my ear. “I wouldn’t mess with Nana, Mom. We could all go down.”
Irritation prickled my nerves and brewed beneath my giggle. Mom didn’t have any right to tell me how to behave in my own house, but she was my mom, and that’s what she did. I took a deep breath. Bradley patted my back.
“It’ll be okay, Mom. I’ll protect you. How mad are you?” he asked.
I gave him a bear hug. “I’m not mad at you. I never could be. I’ll be fine.” I huffed with a soft whine.
Mom’s leer questioned my sincerity.
“What? It’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound reassuring knowing that Beckett would be sitting at the same table as John. The thought caused my stomach to do somersaults.
“What’s this all about?” Chloe asked, dropping the last two bags of groceries on the floor.
“Nothing,” I said in sync with my mom.
“At least we agree on that,” Mom said.
“Yes, Glad, we do.”
“Don’t get sassy, young lady,” she warned.
Bradley held my shoulders. His caring eyes steadied my nerves. “Thanks, Mom. I knew I could count on you. Now, if you ladies will excuse me.”
“Mom, do you want to peel the potatoes?” I asked, pretending everything was normal. I knew it was the right thing to do, but damn it. I wanted Bradley all to myself. Didn’t I have the right to be a little selfish? I wanted to immerse him in my world and that didn’t include Beckett anymore. I handed Mom the bag of spuds.
“You’ll be fine,” she reassured me. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I know.” I took the chicken out of the package and cut the breast fillets into strips just the way Bradley liked them. Mom and I worked quietly on the island.
“So when are you going to tell Bradley that you and John are an item?” she asked quietly.
Stunned, I peered into her eyes. “What?”
Mom leaned forward. “Oh come on, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that you two are a thing. Does Chloe know?” she whispered, looking around.
“Shush. What has gotten into you?”
“You have, what’s the big deal?”
I stacked the slender chicken strips to the side of the cutting board and reached into the bag for another hunk of cold poultry. “There is nothing going on, and we’re not discussing this right now,” I said under my breath.
“Fine, have it your way. What kind of bird does Bones want for a sister?” she asked through a mischievous grin.
I stopped slicing chicken, tightened my grip on the handle of the knife, and closed my eyes for a brief second. “You are incorrigible.”
“Parrots are nice. They will talk to you. My friend Hester had one that said shit before every sentence. Pretty amazing.” Mom beamed with pride.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why are you so stubborn about letting the man in? He seems to like you and he’s got a cute rear end.”
I started laughing. “Oh my God, are you on some new medication that I don’t know about?”
“On no, we are not making this about me, Missy,” Mom jested.
Mom and I bantered as she peeled and sliced, and I sliced and breaded. “There is nothing going on, and in case you haven’t heard, he’s putting his house up for sale, selling his practice, and moving to Montana to work with his dad.”
“That does sound like a qu
andary, but I won’t believe it until I see it.”
Chloe ran in from outside, her hands filled with peonies, a pink satin ribbon tied around the neatly snipped stems.
“Um, where did you get those flowers?” I asked.
“He gave them to me,” she said, motioning to the French doors leading to the patio. “Can we eat outside tonight?”
“Sure,” I answered.
“I figured I’d better bring a peace offering,” Beckett said with a wave. “I think I’m the party crasher tonight.”
Chloe handed me the bouquet. The scent washed over me, reminding me how much I loved pink peonies. “They are beautiful.” I opened the cupboard and found my favorite Roseville vase on the top shelf, filled it with water, cut off the ribbon, and immersed the stems. “Here, Chloe, can you put these on the kitchen table?” I trusted her to take the flower arrangement.
“Whoa, this is heavy,” she said, teetering back and forth.
Beckett took the vase from her. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“Thanks, Beckett. Is it okay if I call you that, or do you want me to call you Mr. Littleton or Mr. Maggie?” Chloe rambled on with a furrowed brow. “Maggie, what’s your last name again?”
“Abernathy,” I reminded her as if she didn’t know.
“You always did want to keep your name,” Beckett said.
For a split second, I thought things might have turned out differently if we’d stayed together and kept his name. Beckett wasn’t the only one who wanted out of our marriage, and I needed to remember that, but sometimes the guilt singed my soul like a branding iron. “Bradley’s in the den,” I said.
Beckett nodded, his brown eyes sincere. His sense of peace gnawed at me. I should have admired his dignity, but instead it irked me. Damn him.
Mom wiped her hands off. “You handled that nicely. Now let’s see if you can sustain your hospitality.”
“You’re funny.” I sneered at her then let out an evil laugh.
“I’ll get the oil going. We’re going to need two pots.”
“Oil is in the bag,” I said.
The clock said a few minutes after six. The mound of chicken strips and fries looked like enough to feed an army. I cleaned off the island while Mom found two large pots in the lower cupboards. We did make a good team.
“Chloe,” I called. I waited. No Chloe. “Bradley, can you come set the table?”
Bradley meandered in with Beckett at his side. They discussed Boston and the sights Beckett would have to see when he visited next. When had he visited before? Feeling left out of the loop gnawed at me even more. I hadn’t gone to Boston, yet. The urge to stare consumed me.
Mom brushed past me. “Now, now,” she whispered. “Hold steady, dear girl.
I arched my eyebrow in her direction as I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel.
Chloe sauntered into the kitchen with Bones. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Bones ate your shoe.”
Chloe held up my black patent-leather ballet flat. I took the shoe that dangled from her finger. “Nice.” I got down on Bones’ level. “Sit,” I commanded. “This is very bad. Bad dog. No more chewing.” I poked my finger in his face. He tilted his head. Drool dripped from his chops. His eyes kind of resembled Beckett’s. I glanced over to Beckett. Yup, he had dog eyes, big, brown, and carefree, not a worry in the world even with a waggling finger of judgment. “Go lie down,” I said.
Chloe tugged at my elbow then pointed to the clock. “It’s past his dinnertime. Can you really blame him?”
“That doesn’t give him the right to chew up my stuff,” I reminded her. Chloe shrugged. “Why don’t you feed the beast then help Bradley set the table so we can get cooking?” My suggestion made her raise an eyebrow. “Leave the milkshake glasses in here.”
“Okay,” she said. “Can I put the whipped cream on top when you get to that part?”
“Bradley, is it okay if she puts the whipped cream on?”
“Mom, I’m not seven any more. She can put the whipped cream on the milkshakes.” As Bradley picked up the stack of plates, the light hit his sideburns, redder than his strawberry blond hair.
“Hey, I’m eight,” Chloe declared.
Beckett took the silverware and Chloe tagged behind with a handful of napkins and the ketchup bottle.
“Let’s start frying,” Mom said, checking the temperature of the oil with a single french fry.
The creak of the screen door echoed through the foyer and into the kitchen. Bones lifted his head from his feeding bowl long enough to let out a little woof. I purposely didn’t make eye contact with my mom who stood beside me frying up mounds of golden fries. She had a magic touch for diner food.
“He’s here,” she said.
“Stop it.”
“Hey, Bones,” John said, bending down to pat his rump that swayed from his wagging tail. “What’s my job?”
“How do you feel about making milkshakes?” Glad said.
“It’s easy. Throw in some ice cream a couple blobs of peanut butter sauce, some milk, and blend away.”
I pointed to the counter where everything was neatly organized.
John shrugged. “Sounds easy enough.”
“That ice cream is nice and soft, easy to scoop. Have at it,” Glad said.
He winked in my direction. A spatter of grease hit my finger. Mom’s grin and girlish stare eased the burn.
Chloe ran past. “Hi, Dad. Be right back.” Her voice faded into the air after the front door slammed.
John helped Mom carry the food to the table while I grabbed extra napkins, barbeque sauce, salt and pepper, and a can of whipped cream just in case someone needed an extra squirt.
Strategically seated between John and my mom at the dinner table, I hoped no one besides Mom had an inkling about my true feelings for John. Every time I saw the man, it felt like we’d known each other for years. I wondered if there was a divine plan in which all paths would lead me home because the more we were together the more he felt like home.
Chloe stopped everyone before the first bite. “Wait!”
John shot Chloe a look.
“Don’t look so worried, Dad. I have a little speech.” She cleared her throat. “And it’s appropriate.” She produced a small box from beneath her cushion that was tied with a rumpled white ribbon. “First of all, I think it is so cool that I get to meet Bradley. I was wondering if you really existed. I thought maybe your mom was just making you up. That’s beside the point. Anyway.” She held out the box in my direction. “This is for you, Maggie. Thank you for taking me to Chicago to see my mom and thanks for not kicking me out of your house when I’m a pest.”
The box passed through John’s hands then into mine. It rattled as I untied the bow. I knew what was inside, and I smiled. Tears welled at the back of my throat. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Chloe.” I put on my macaroni necklace with pride. Unlike her mom’s, Chloe had dyed my macaroni different shades of blue.
“I tried to make it the color of water. I know how much you love the lake,” she said.
I winked at her. She got up. The table tipped and John almost lost his milkshake. Chloe hugged me from behind. I kissed her hands that were clasped around my neck. The macaroni necklace that Bradley had made me years ago was tucked inside my jewelry box. The pieces splintered over time. The colors faded from wear, but there was something special about dyed macaroni. “This will never go out of style,” I told her. Her breath was hot in my ear as she snorted through her giggles. “Maybe we should eat,” I said as she gave me one last squeeze.
Beckett’s gaze dimmed. All I ever wanted was a child when we were married and he gave me that. Bradley sat next to his dad, different in so many ways, but solemn like his father. Beckett sent a silent message in my direction. He wanted so much more for me and although it took him years to admit his own identity, he had helped me find mine along the way.
Chapter 18
Everyone had gone. Bradley and his dad had ventured off to
the jazz café on the hill. I fingered the blue macaroni necklace that Chloe gave me as I swung on the porch swing reading my book. The bag of papers from school had been pushed aside for another time. Bones rested his head on my lap, his eyebrows twitching to the beat of his dreams.
“You can’t ignore me forever,” John said, coming up the stairs.
“I don’t think I’ve been ignoring you,” I said.
Bones lifted his head and inspected my visitor then settled back down with a heavy sigh.
John came closer. He leaned against the stone pillar at the edge of the stairs and crossed his arms.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“About what?” I asked, knowing what was on his mind.
He lowered his gaze and his eyes turned dark.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’m not sure what you want from me. You said you were planning on selling your house and moving to Montana, that’s not exactly around the block.” My heart sank. “Around the block would be better. Way better,” I mumbled. “Now you’re the one making this difficult.”
“It’s what I have to do,” he said, shifting his weight.
“Then it’s a done deal. You’re going. I’m staying. Chloe’s going and we will say we’ll call, but that won’t happen because of circumstance. It’s like a one-night stand—” My voice broke off. “But way worse,” I added, dog-earing the page where I’d left off reading.
“Don’t compare us to a one-night stand. This is different.”
“Not sure how. We slept together, and now it’s over.”
“That’s the thing, Maggie, I’m not sure I want this to be over.”
“We can’t always get what we want,” I said. “I didn’t want cancer and I got that. I didn’t want Beckett to be gay and I got that. I didn’t want Bradley to move to Boston, but I got that. I didn’t want to like Brook, but Chicago changed all that. I didn’t want to get close to Chloe and now she’s leaving and so are you. It’s a world of disappointment, I’m afraid to say. Sometimes I look around and it seems surreal. I’m standing still, stuck in time and the people I care about are fleeing at warp speed,” I said. “What do you want from me?”
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