by Finn, Emilia
His words have been muttered before, so they don’t particularly impress me, but when I say no to camping in the snow, and no to a sleepover, and no to every other option I feel uncomfortable with, he doesn’t throw a tantrum.
Like, at all. Which is unprecedented.
Maybe he’s really changing. Maybe taking his son’s fist to the face is what it took for him to wake up.
Who knows, but while I’m not fooled by a fast change of heart, I’m cautiously optimistic that a father-son relationship is a possibility.
Stefan bustles around me with a swing to his hips and a whistle on his breath. He’s always so happy, always smiling, always prepared to cheer me on, even when I’m deep into my PMS jag and there’s not enough chocolate in the world to fix my bitchy mood.
Just like always, today’s no exception.
He flips burgers, plates up hot fries, whips a salad together, then with a shining smile, he turns to me with two heaped plates. “Ding, ding, baby girl.”
It’s hard to remain grumpy when he looks at me the way he does, so I accept the warm plates and turn away. The diner is barely busy. It’s late afternoon, and the weather already makes it almost dark out. Tammy is here, but in reality, one of us should go home and not make Franky pay us to do nothing.
I walk into the dining area and glance toward my son, who sits in his booth with his legs folded on the bench seat and that ratty book in his hands while he reads and sips an almost empty milkshake. The straw has been stuck between his teeth for an hour straight while he’s absorbed in a world of magical beings. Fire, ice, princesses, a damsel who’d rather fight her own battles, and fight sequences I’m sure he wishes he could do.
Every day that passes, he grows bigger, stronger, broader. And so unbelievably handsome.
I snatch up two sets of silverware and make my way to the booth beside Mac’s. I slide one plate in front of Sophia Solomon and nod when she grins, then the second in front of Jay Bishop and try my hardest not to blush when he looks up and smiles.
The Bishops are Eric’s opposites. They’re tanned, where Eric is not. They have dark hair to Eric’s sandy blond. They have a million tattoos, and though Eric does too, theirs are flashier. Theirs stretch from toes to fingertips. They cover their necks, and in Jay’s case, his scalp beneath his short hair. At one point in his life, Jay shaved his head and let some burly biker dude tattoo his freakin’ skull. But Eric’s ink can be covered with not much more than a shirt and a collar. When you strip him down, his art tells a story… a story I never asked. But dressed and in public, you could almost assume his skin is as pure as he swears his smile is.
“Thanks, Katrina.” Jay winks, and gets the blush I know he was looking for. “My hungry is hungry, so maybe tee up some pie for straight after?”
“Sure thing. I’ll plate it up and have it ready for you.”
“Thanks.” He flashes one more grin before he turns back to find Soph’s burger half-gone and her mouth overfull.
“What?” Meat and bread fall from her mouth. “What!”
“Nothing, Sugar Plum. You’re just so graceful and sexy.”
“Shut up!”
And I’m invisible again.
The bell above the door rings again, but it pulls no one’s interest but mine as I look up and smile at Meg Montgomery. She’s covered from head to toe in a thick coat and cute hat.
She looks like one of the Hallmark movie girls, of course.
Baby Chance sits on her hip and looks about thirty pounds heavier because of the outfit he wears, but she starts stripping his clothes off fast, tossing hats and gloves into my son’s booth and dumping her diaper bag in beside them. Meg stands her baby on the bench seat opposite and begins stripping the extra thick coat off while Mac continues reading. “Here you go, handsome.” Meg smacks noisy kisses on her son’s face and makes him giggle. Jet black hair, icy blue eyes, and two of the cutest peg teeth known to man shine bright while his Maybelline model mother tickles his belly and makes him giggle.
Did I look like that when Mac was a year old?
No.
We didn’t giggle or play. We worked, ate in twenty-minute spaces of time, and did homework while we walked or ate. I wish I could have provided a certain life for him, but I couldn’t, and my son is still amazing, witty, smart, protective, and all around awesome. So it’s whatever. I’ve passed the point of caring about what we don’t have anymore, because what we do have is special.
“Hi, Meg.” I bump her aside and press a noisy kiss to Chance’s cheek when he reaches up for me. He looks just like his daddy, and hell, if a Macchio wants a kiss, I’ll give him a kiss. “Hi, handsome. You giving your mama hell?”
“Ugh, yes.” Meg leans into the booth and kisses my son, because she’s awesome and loves him like her own. He glances up and watches us, but goes back to his book. “He’s got more teeth coming in, so he’s being a whiney baby about that. And Marc says how I expect too much of him. Like, my requests to stop whining and get Mommy a glass of wine are unreasonable.”
I laugh and accept her hug when she’s finally done undressing and tossing her shit everywhere. She looked two hundred pounds heavy when she walked in, but now she’s down to cute snow boots, tight jeans that my son sneaks a look at when she turns, and a tight three-quarter sleeve top that shows off her trim waist and massive tatas. She’s every teen kid’s wet dream, and it disturbs me on so many levels that the book Mac was so entranced in for the last hour is suddenly only okay.
“What are you guys doing here? It’s gross outside. You should be at home.”
“Oh, I know, but we’re bored. The gym is busy today; Andi isn’t taking my calls because she’s booked out, and Marc is doing something with his friends.”
“What are they doing?”
“Hell if I know.” She holds Chance’s hands when he starts bouncing on the springy chair. “Probably playing bingo or some such thing. They don’t get to hang as much anymore, so they’re doing something today. Chance and I have been cooped up all day, so I figured a burger for dinner would go down alright.”
“Burger it is.” I laugh. “What about for Chance?”
“Do you have pasta? He’d probably enjoy that. If not, nuggets and fries would be fine. They’d feel good on his teeth.”
“Easily done.” I turn away to put her order in with Stefan, but instead of sitting, Meg hands Chance to Mac and follows me in.
“Stefan!” Meg bustles forward and accepts a squishy hug before stepping back. “You look good, huh? Looking after yourself?”
“Always, darlin’.” He nods when I slap the order onto his board, but then his eyes are all for Meg. “You stay away too long. I never get to see your face anymore.”
“I was here yesterday!” she laughs. I walk away while they chat, and since Tammy is still hustling, I give myself a minute to go to the bathroom and head back to my locker. It’s like a habit I’ve developed over the years: locker room, hair, lipstick, phone. Zeke has always managed to leave me a text, and it almost always consisted of a request for something. It was always about what I could do for him. And it was always a reminder to stay humble, to stay grateful for what I have. And to stay on guard.
But today, nothing.
It’s like a breath of fresh air.
I was happy with Eric. I dreamed of a happy future, I smiled whenever he was around, and even more when he wasn’t and I thought of him. I found myself looking up at the stars most nights and making plans for us, and that didn’t stop after he walked.
Even through my tears, I glanced up at the sky and wished upon a star.
But that’s gone now, and I’m finally smiling again. He was a blip in my past, a painful sore, but he was merciful in that it was a clean break. Our thing wasn’t drawn out. It wasn’t like how Zeke comes back time and time again and reopens old wounds. It was just… done. And while it felt cruel, it was actually the most compassionate way he could have broken up with me.
I mean, not walking at all would have been
the most compassionate, but if he was going to walk anyway, he did it the right way.
I toss my phone back into my locker and close it up, only to turn when the door opens and Meg steps in. “Why’d you leave me? I’m trying to hang out with you.”
“You were talking to Stefan!” I laugh. “Why are you being so clingy? It’s weird.”
“Because I miss your face.” She steps into the room and closes the door, then she grabs my face and smooshes my cheeks so I make the fish lips. “I miss you so much, and even if I come in here all the time, I never actually get to hang out with you.”
My face remains in her hands while I glance down at my watch. “My tables are served, and Tammy’s on. We can take five minutes if you want. Stefan will think I’m taking a long dump.”
Meg snickers and releases my face. She moves back to the door, then slides down until her butt plops to the floor, so with a lifted brow, I follow suit and slide down beside her. “Are you okay?” I take her hand. “Everything okay at home?”
“Everything’s perfect.” A slow grin creeps across her face. “Marcus is perfect; Chance is perfect.”
“And work?”
“That’s perfect too. I’m working on Jess Lenaghan and Kane Bishop’s wedding. That chick swears she’s gonna be hitched before her crotch goblins arrive.”
I quietly snicker so my shoulders bounce against hers. “Are you supposed to call them that? Does Kane Bishop know you’re calling his kids names?”
“Kane Bishop doesn’t scare me.” Lie. Lie. Lie! Kane Bishop scares everybody. “But yes, I called them crotch goblins to his face no more than an hour ago.”
“An hour? You were with them today?” Don’t ask about Eric. Do. Not. Ask. About. Eric!
“Mmm.” She distractedly plays with my fingers. “She’s like six months pregnant with massive Bishop twins, but she still thinks she’s gonna get hitched before they arrive.”
“Is she?”
“Hell no. I’m coordinating this shindig for her, but there’s no way in hell she’s gonna get married before they’re here. She’s already walking like one of their heads popped out.”
I smile. “I remember that feeling. I swear, I worked three months straight with Mac’s head touching my thigh.”
“Damn boy babies,” she sighs. “They ruin us.”
And she wouldn’t change a thing. “You think Jess is having boys?”
She shrugs. “No clue. I can’t even be sure she’s having humans. If I had to put a bet on it, I’d say she’s having a donkey. But apparently,” she makes air quotes with her fingers, “it’s rude to say that to a pending mom.”
“You didn’t?” I bump her shoulder and laugh. “You need to find your business voice, Megan, seriously. It’s like how we tell our kids to use their inside voice; well, you need to learn not to insult a heavily pregnant client who’s on an impossible mission.”
She shrugs. “They don’t pay me to pat asses. They pay me to get shit done, which is why she thinks she’s getting married in February, but she’s totally not.”
“No?”
She waves a hand. “Nah. No way will she pull it off. So I’m taking all of her plans down, but I’m looking at December and March. Two dates she can choose from, two opportunities, so she can do it before or after. But there’s no way in hell she’s getting hitched in February. Her cooch will hurt way too much.”
“So I guess they pay you the big bucks to think for them.”
She flashes a wide grin and taps her temple. “Precisely, Watson. Now tell me what’s up with you.”
I shrug. “Situation normal. I work; I sneak cheat meals and feed my growing ass; I follow my son around and shout ‘make good choices!’ like it’s a pearl of wisdom he’s never heard before. He’s got another fight coming up, so I try not to freak out about that. Ya know, regular life.”
She snorts. “Well, first, you should know I like your ass. It’s so pretty and round and fills your jeans out in a really cool way. My ass doesn’t do that. I’m more of a back and crack kinda gal, and I mean, Marcus likes it, so whatever. But if I had to choose, I’d probably ask them to inject a little of your ass into mine and plump me up. It’s the kind thing to do for this badonkadonk-challenged woman.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this?”
“Absolutely,” she laughs. “Secondly, how’s… ya know… your love life?”
“Not up for discussion?” My words are said lightly, but my heart races. “I’d rather not get into it. You’re always trying to set me up, but for right now, I think I need alone time.”
“I get it.” I expected her to fight me, or at least tease, but all she does is drop her eyes to the fraying on the knees of her jeans. “That shit is messed up, so I don’t blame you.”
“Wait… you heard about…” Frowning, I lean around to catch her eyes. “What’s messed up?”
“That thing with Eric.”
“You heard about us? Who the hell told you?”
“I mean, everyone in town knew you were not-so-secretly fucking him. You couldn’t stop eating him up with your eyes. And nobody in the history of the world has ordered that many burgers that many days in a row. He was totally diddling you, and then that poor idiot had to run extra far in the mornings to work off the calories. He ran by our place a bunch of times, and we’re not exactly close.”
“Are you… Who else…” I’m floundering. “Did Mac… What?”
She scoffs. “You’re the worst secret keeper ever. We all knew you were banging.” She pauses. “I mean, was it good? I bet he’s secretly filthy.”
“Yes.” I turn away and fight the whimper on my breath. “I swear, that man knows what’s up. But it couldn’t go on,” I rush out. “It ended, so now it’s done.”
“I don’t really blame you. I mean, it’s a little messed up that you ran because of that, but I can’t say I entirely blame you. Shit is scary, and you have a kid to take care of.”
“What…” I pause. “What are you talking about? He left me. He walked away and acted like we don’t exist. He’s the jerk who doesn’t want a family.”
“Huh? No.” Her brows knit. “He didn’t not want them, Katrina. He lost them. They were taken from him.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Who did he want? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.”
“His family.” She turns and crosses her legs so her knees touch my thighs. In the shadowed storeroom, her light eyes flicker between mine. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about me! I’m talking about the fact he swore he was in love and that I didn’t have to be scared anymore. He said he wanted us to be together. And when I finally said yes, he ran… What do you mean…” I pause. “His family? What family?”
“His wife and daughter.” She grabs my hand when she finally realizes what she’s done. “You don’t know about Gemma and Callie? Oh my God, you don’t know?”
Tattoos flash through my mind. Gemma. Callie. Gemma. Callie. Gemma. Callie. Gemma. Callie. A sinking ship. Fire. Storms. Clouds. So much devastation. “He has a wife and child?”
“Had.” Her voice cracks. “He had a wife and child. Wait! Stop.” She tries to grab my hand as I shoot to my feet. “Where are you going?”
I swing the door open and make her slide along the floor so I can get through. Into the hall, through the kitchen, I toss my apron into Stefan’s hands when he turns, then into the dining area, I point at a now alert Mac as he plays with Chance. “Do not leave this booth, Macallistar. Do not move out of Stefan’s sight.”
I race out the front door and into the street. It’s not yet six o’clock, but the snow clouds are heavy and dumping on top of my head, reminding me I’ve run outside with nothing more than jeans and a shirt. The cold digs into my bones, but I run toward the garage and let my adrenaline warm me.
Don’t be home. Don’t be home. Don’t be home. Please don’t be home.
In all of our time together, we never hung around his apartme
nt. We had sex; the lights were out; the lights stayed out, then he walked me to the door when we were done. I never wandered alone, and I was never there during daylight hours. So I run the two blocks now and pray he’s not home.
The garage is still open despite the fact it’s past five. Three roller doors are open, and the sounds of a clicking wrench echo along with the soft strains of rock music. I don’t stop and chat. I violate a billion rules, most of which center around trust, sprint into the office and snatch up a set of keys just as the sound of the wrench stops, then I sprint out again and around the side of the building.
“Hello?” Angelo’s voice follows me. “Katrina?”
Tears spill onto my cheeks, stupid, horrible, angry tears I wish more than anything I could stop. They blind me as I run, so I trip up the metal stairs, slamming my shins onto the edge of the steps. I cry out but clutch the keys like they are a floatation device and I’m drowning in stormy seas.
It kind of feels like I am.
I shiver from head to toe as I shakily work through the two dozen or so keys on the chain. I push them into the lock, no luck, try the next. Angelo stops at the bottom of the stairs and watches me. He has grease on his nose, blackened hands from work, and stained jeans. He’s rugged and handsome, and why the hell can’t I find a decent guy?
A family? Eric has a whole fucking family?
I find the right key, and cry out when the lock snicks and the door cracks open. I shouldn’t go in here. There are laws against it, for starters, not to mention a complete invasion of privacy that, if the roles were reversed, I’d go ballistic about. But rules don’t apply to me here.
I turn and toss the keys into Ang’s hands. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Call the cops if you have to. Call Eric. Do whatever, but I’m going in there.”
“Let me come in with you.” He moves up a single stair. “You won’t get any trouble from me, I swear. But I’d like to stand with you.”
