Easy Love: A Modern Romance

by Piper Lawson

  Maybe she’s right.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance down at it. “Shit.”

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Now?”

  I click on the email banner, opening the message. I slap a hand on the armrest. “My job talk at UW. The one I’ve been trying to rebook for two months. It’s scheduled for next week.”

  “That’s fantastic! Wait. What exactly is a job talk?”

  “It’s basically an audition. There are a few candidates for the same role. Instead of sitting down interview-style—which you also do—you have to give a presentation to a bunch of people who would be your colleagues while they rip holes in you.”

  Her eyes widen. “Sounds barbaric.”

  I laugh under my breath. “It is.”

  “You could practice on me. Like Beck’s practicing on you.”

  Her thoughtfulness has my chest tightening. “Come on. You don’t want that.” Her face falls, and I rush to say, “Not because you wouldn’t get it, because it’s boring.”

  “It’s not boring to you.”

  I steal glances at her because I’m not sure what that means. Or what I want it to mean. We’re in new territory, where she wants to do something because I like it. I’m not sure how I should feel about it, but I know what I do feel is warm and tingly.

  She’s here, and for the last couple of weeks, we’ve been doing this.

  Not this exactly—sitting in theatres with teenagers. Hanging out. Refining the pitch to investors for the app. Having sex.

  The thing is, I want more.

  Human beings are wired to be greedy, evolutionarily speaking. We don’t have off switches when we’ve had enough food or sleep…

  Or sex.

  It’s natural that I’m craving her.

  There’s no reason we can’t keep it up until I leave.

  When I leave.

  The truth is, whenever I start to think about this ending, my chest gets tight and my brain shuts down.

  “Want to get dinner after?” Rena asks.

  I turn to find her looking at me. It would be easy to say yes. To this and anything she might ask me.

  I glance back up at the stage, where Beck and the other kids are acting out zoo animals. “You like sushi?”

  We collect Beck at the end of the hour, and he’s talking about the assignments his teacher gave him.

  “You never sound this enthusiastic for my assignments,” I quip.

  “Sure I do, Wes. I just keep it under wraps,” he says deadpan.

  I shake my head.

  “Hey, don’t you live around here?” Rena asks.

  “Yeah.”

  That’s how we’re at my mom’s house.

  Her startled face greets me—us—as she opens the door. “Wesley.”

  “Hi. We were in the neighborhood.”

  She welcomes us in, and I introduce Rena and Beck.

  If Rena’s surprised, she gets over it fast.

  “Sorry to spring this on you, Mom, but we needed dinner and thought you might too.”

  I take a quick poll on orders, then I leave Rena and my mom. Beck’s inspecting a shelf of DVDs as if they’re rare artifacts as I duck into the hallway to place the order. When I finish and go back to the living room, mom and Rena are talking about animals. Her skunk, the dogs at my mom’s clinic.

  “My skunk likes Wes, and Scrunchie’s particular.” My mom’s jaw hits the floor. “Why do you look so surprised?”

  “Wesley hates animals.”

  “That’s not true,” I protest, because sociopaths hate animals and I don’t want the woman I’m sleeping with to think I’m evil.

  “It’s because one attacked him as a child.”

  The banter goes on, and I’m dropped out of it.

  Until I hear Beck volunteer, “We had a dog once. It was basically Rena’s dog.”

  Her face shutters. “Beck.”

  I lean in. “Really? I figured Scrunchie was your first pet.”

  She looks uncomfortable. “No.”

  “Did he die?” My mom offers, sympathetic.

  “I’m sure he did. But I didn’t see it. Is there a bathroom I could use?”

  I look between Rena and Beck. There’s more to this story, but I’m getting the red light. “Sure.”

  My mom’s attention comes back to me. “Honey, can I talk to you?” I follow her into the hall. She glances back toward the other room. “This was a treat. Instead of one guest, I got three.” She smiles. “I’m glad you’re seeing someone.”

  I rub a hand over my neck. “Yeah. It’s not serious. But it’s good. We’re good.”

  I start to head back to the living room when I see Rena in the doorway. I wonder how much of that she heard.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she says with a tentative smile.

  “Not at all.”

  My mom excuses herself and Rena follows me into my father’s den, the only place we’re likely to get a moment of privacy.

  Most of his things are gone now, and only a few boxes remain.

  “You brought me to meet your mom?” she asks quietly.

  “I know I sprung it on you. And before you ask, I’m sure she’ll get some ideas about us.”

  She tilts up her face. “Like I think her son’s amazing and that’s why I’m putting up with my little brother just to drive around with him?”

  I suck in a long breath, then let it out slow. “Yeah, like that.”

  Rena’s smile feels like a secret between us.

  I shouldn’t be surprised by how much I love that, but hell, I’m surprised every second around her. By how she rolls with things. How resilient she is. How much she cares about other people.

  She’s wearing jeans again, which reminds me of the night of the debate. I inhale her scent, vanilla and honey, and in this moment, I want everything she is.

  I’m not sure what’s happening, but I step closer, tucking her hair behind her ear and loving her shaky exhale.

  “I like this,” she murmurs. “Seeing where you come from. Knowing who you are.”

  “It feels good to be known. I’m not sure I know myself sometimes.” I think about the job talk email from earlier tonight. “I worked for this one goal my entire life, then my dad got sick and my life changed. Going back to it now that he’s gone feels like using muscles I haven’t used in a while.”

  Now my life has changed again, I want to say.

  Because the last couple weeks I’ve almost forgotten I’m somewhere I don’t want to be, doing things I don’t want to do.

  I thought I could keep Rena at a distance. She’s proving me wrong every damn day.

  The way she’s looking at me now, her face full of caring and respect and interest, is something I never knew I wanted.

  On impulse, I claim her mouth, and her surprised inhale turns into a tiny moan I feel vibrate through me everywhere.

  Feelings wash over me in a second. Desire, always. But more than that…

  Peace. Home.

  I kiss her until I can convince myself she’s not going anywhere. Until all I can feel and smell and process is her, and she’s surrounding me and not a single cell of my body wants that to change.

  Eventually she pulls back, pressing a finger to the corner of her lips. “Don’t worry. I was careful.”

  I grin, thinking about her lipstick. “Thanks. My mom’ll know anyway.”

  “How?”

  “It’s a mom thing.”

  Rena’s smile fades as she looks around us. “Was it hard going through all his stuff?”

  The shift in topics hits me in the chest, but I know she’s asking from a good place, so I go with it. “When I don’t see his things, I know he’s gone, but it’s not as obvious. Standing here, surrounded by parts of him, I can’t forget that the biggest part is missing.”

  “I like that you’re honest with me.”

  “I like being honest with you.” And it’s the truth. Transparency is important in academic research,
where the smallest thing needs to be explained, validated, corroborated. In personal relationships, I never gave it much thought before.

  “I need to tell you something,” she says. “You asked if I knew what I was doing giving you advice to sell apps like yours, I said I did. I don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I made it seem like I’d done it a dozen times. But I haven’t. I worked at Wicked and did social media, and I’ve handled a few clients who’ve done really well. But I’ve never done something exactly like your work, and there’s a chance it could fail.”

  I take her worried face in my hands. “Here’s the thing most people get wrong about science. It’s not about definitive knowledge. It’s about having a theory that’s the best until something else comes along that’s better. There are no absolutes.

  “So what if you haven’t launched a dozen apps? I could tell you knew what you were doing the second you started talking to me in my lab.”

  Rena’s eyes shine. “For real?”

  “Yeah. You’re exactly what I need, just the way you are. As far as the rest… We’ll figure it out.”

  I bend down to kiss her and find my fingers laced through hers.

  I drive the Volvo on the way back to the city, and Rena falls asleep in the passenger seat.

  The sound of a click has my gaze flicking to the rear view mirror.

  Beck’s stretching out in the back, his hand freezing on the seatbelt when he spots my attention. I stare at him as he adjusts himself to put his feet up.

  Finally he fastens the seatbelt again, and I go back to the dark road in front of me.

  “I was like eight when he gave it away. The dog, I mean.”

  Beck’s low voice is just audible over the subtle road noise from outside the car.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know the details. But I remember Dad was giving Rena a hard time about her grades. One day, she came home from school after I did. I didn’t notice the dog was gone, but she did. She fucking loved that dog.”

  I draw a long breath, keeping my eyes on the road because I’m not sure what Beck’ll see on my face if I meet his gaze right now.

  “He’s a piece of work, Wes. Yours might be gone, but at least he was good while he was here.”

  23

  Wes

  It’s busy at the gym today, a bustling stream of people moving through. Maybe a rush of outdoor exercisers heading in as the weather gets brisk.

  Jake lunges across from me in the ring, grunting, and I duck.

  I size up an opening and throw a right hook that lands on his shoulder but grazes off.

  “Ben said you had a good conversation about your DNA app,” Jake says. How he’s not as out of breath as I am I have no idea.

  I think back to the call. I’d leaned on the notes from Rena, woven them into the technical details that needed to be expressed for Ben to understand the project.

  “He was interested—but in working together in partnership, not in buying it outright.”

  “He doesn’t offer that kind of thing lightly. You must have impressed him with your pitch. Rena’s rubbing off on you.”

  I brace a hand on the ropes, catching my breath. I blink against the sweat.

  “You okay, Wesley? Don’t tell me you’re regretting that I set you up.”

  Poor choice of words.

  “I’m grateful.”

  The bell dings, and we drop out of the ring. An attendant helps Jake with his gloves, and I space out, my body struggling to regain its equilibrium now that I’m back on level ground.

  “Are you? You haven’t talked about her lately. Which means either you’re avoiding her, or you’re not avoiding her but you’re so infatuated you won’t tell anyone about it.”

  I pull off my headgear and towel-dry my sweaty hair. “It’s nothing.”

  “I’ve only known you since your father got sick but the last few weeks you’re alive again. A different person. What you and Rena do is your business. But from the outside, it doesn’t look like nothing.”

  Before I can respond, a familiar voice has me looking across the gym.

  “Dr. Crawford,” I say when I spot Rena’s father.

  “Wesley.”

  Jake makes for the changing room.

  “I’ll catch up with you,” I say.

  Jake nods and, with a curious look between Crawford and me, goes on his way.

  “How’s my son doing?” he asks.

  “Beck’s doing better in class. His test scores are up. Debate team’s doing well.”

  “Relieved to hear it. He’s been talking about some new interests, which I trust are fleeting.”

  I feel the tension start at my toes and take over my body. But I don’t show it.

  “I used to do that,” he says, nodding toward the ring. “It’s been a while. You spar every week, huh?”

  “No. We mainly shadowbox.”

  His gaze comes back to mine, sparking. “What do you say? Want to show me your moves?”

  After dinner at my mom’s house, we dropped Beck off and went back to Rena’s. She woke up long enough to get upstairs, but I carried her to bed and lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about her and me and Beck’s words.

  Now, I nod.

  “People think boxing is about men hitting each other,” Crawford says, ducking under the ropes and into the ring. I follow. “But it’s about strategy and discipline. Knowing when to block, when to punch.

  “I’m concerned it’s too late for my children.” He throws the first punch, a jab, and I duck out of the way.

  “Beck’ll be an adult soon. Maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants.”

  I toss a jab his way, careful. He’s in good shape, but I’m twenty years younger. I don’t want to hurt him.

  He comes back with one of his own, plus a cross that catches my arm, hard enough to sting.

  “By the time they’re your age, it’s too late. Children need firm life lessons.”

  “They also need compassion. Second chances.” My jaw clenches, and my fists tighten as I think about what Beck told me.

  As I circle Crawford, I can see bits of the man Rena must’ve grown up with. The kind of man who would take away a child’s comfort in order to get his way, or to make a point.

  “I have two children, Wesley,” he goes on, oblivious to my dark thoughts. “You get one chance to shape them. To make them into something worthwhile.”

  The smugness in his eyes and presumption in his words have my abs clenching.

  I should be bowing out and stepping down from this ring. My brain enumerates the reasons, one after the other.

  He’s older.

  A respected physician.

  I need his reference.

  He’s Rena’s father.

  But the last one’s the only thing I can think of. And instead of making me cautious, it makes me angry.

  I’ve never condoned violence, never perpetrated it.

  But I’ve also never stared down someone who deliberately hurt a person I cared about.

  It’s a regular moral dilemma…

  Which is why I feel guilty when I pull back and hit Terry Crawford.

  Hard.

  24

  Rena

  I’m nearing the end of a prep for the ASMR client Sunday morning when my phone buzzes.

  Beck: You’re coming for dinner tonight right?

  Rena: ???

  Beck: Don’t miss this. You’ll thank me.

  This week was all over the place. I’ve been working my butt off for this client, putting together an idea and presentation. And I’m getting ready for a little engagement party this coming weekend in Philly for Haley.

  At the door, Beck greets me with a mischievous expression. “I think you’re going to like this.”

  I walk into the dining room. When my father enters, my jaw drops.

  He’s sporting a black eye.

  “Dad. What happened?”

  “Nothing.”
<
br />   Beck drops his napkin on his lap with ceremony before clasping his hands. “I heard he got the crap beat out of him by Wes down at the club on Friday.”

  “Beckett!” he roars.

  “Sorry. Dr. R.” He flashes teeth.

  I look between them because I really have no idea what’s happening.

  The rest of dinner, I can’t help staring at the purple mark on the face I know as well as my own.

  It doesn’t add up. I know Wes admires my father.

  After dinner, I go to my dad’s study. He’s going through files.

  “Did Wes really do that?”

  He pulls back to look at me. “Your brother seems to be very enamored with him. I’m not sure it’s healthy. The two of you seem to be filling his head with ideas.”

  I feel my spine straighten. “What ideas are those?”

  “That he can be whatever he wants.”

  I feel the simmering resentment of twenty-four years rising up. “I know you and Mom got together because she was pregnant. But don’t put that on me and Beck. It’s not our BS to deal with.”

  He slams the drawer. “I gave you everything. You lived under my roof, used my resources.”

  “That’s how children work,” I breathe, but he continues.

  “You’ve always lived in your own world, passing judgment on everyone else and never dealing with reality.”

  “I deal with reality. You and mom’s arguments, you think I don’t get that? You think Beck doesn’t?” My voice shakes even though I fight to keep it steady. “I know I wasn’t what you wanted, or who, or when. I know you would’ve rather had a son like Wes. So don’t you dare take it out on him.”

  I turn and walk out.

  The rain’s stopped, but it’s still windy. I wander around before winding up at a familiar building.

  It’s Sunday night, and we haven’t done weekend stuff or even talked about it, but I can’t go anywhere else.

  I hit the button beside the familiar number. “Wes. It’s me.”

  He buzzes me up.

  When he opens the door, I take him in. He’s wearing a button-down shirt with jeans. He looks tired. His hair’s standing on end as if he’s been running his hands through it while he worked.