Celeste and I chat a few minutes more about random business issues and how much eggnog she drank to get through yesterday. I don’t have much time though, I still have a coffee run to make, and I’m a hundred yards from my first stop.
“Hey,” I interrupt as she continues her rant on the flight delay that’s already holding her hostage in her mother’s house for six hours longer than she would like. “I sympathize with your plight, but I’m almost to my first stop, so I need to let you go.”
“You aren’t just going to use the drive-thru for coffee?”
Furrowing my brow, I dread fessing up, but I also feel a bit put on the spot. “I’m dropping a book off to Calypso.”
“Calypso?” It takes her a second and I can practically hear when the light bulb goes off over her head. “Matthew’s daughter? Ohmygod, are you lying to me and playing hooky to hang out with him?”
“Stop shouting. I’m in my car and the neighborhood can hear you.”
“This is just so exciting,” she continues at a volume I still find to be too high. “Your first fake illness to avoid work.”
“First, I am not playing hooky. And even if I was, why are you so surprised? Really, it’s not a big deal. Yesterday I told Calypso about—”
Her screech makes my ears ring and although it makes no sense, I blink my eyes rapidly like that will help my ability to hear again. “You spent Christmas with them! It was your first Christmas and with Matthew Roberts!”
“I swear, if you make that awful noise one more time I will never speak to you again. Anna and I will vote you off the island, or blog, whatever. You know I don’t celebrate Christmas. It was just a regular day for me and meant almost nothing,” I argue half-heartedly because we both know I’m lying.
“So what kind of book are you dropping off? Is it some bedtime stories for you to read to her? Now I need to know all the things.”
I sigh dramatically, but this is the part I don’t actually mind telling her because it’s kind of funny. “It’s a book about Hanukkah decorations for kids. Calypso has decided that since Christmas is over and Santa is gone, she’s converting to Judaism.”
Celeste bursts out laughing. “She wants eight days of presents, doesn’t she?”
I laugh along with her because she’s right. “She has this whole intricate plan about how she’ll convert back to Christianity again right before Christmas and then celebrate Hanukkah after every year. For six years old, I have to admit she’s figured out a solid way to work the holiday system. Besides,” I continue, “it’s kind of fun to teach her some of my traditions. I’ve been lax the last few years, being so far from home. It’s bad enough my mother is digging deep to hit me with some major guilt about not attending temple regularly. It was nice to talk about the holiday and made me miss the traditions I spent my childhood celebrating.”
“And Matthew kicked your ass at dreidel,” she deadpans, because she knows me so well.
“It was beginner’s luck!” I burst in mock outrage. “I’ve got five more days to prove I’m still the reigning champion.”
“Oh yeah. You’ve got it bad,” she says under her breath. “But I’m warning you now, don’t tell that child about your bat mitzvah.”
“Oh hell no,” I say without hesitation. “Matthew would never forgive me if he had to spend the next seven years listening to her plan the biggest thirteenth birthday party any child who regularly converts her religion based on presents has ever had.”
“I’m sure you were bad enough at that age.”
I pretend not to hear her as I pull in the driveway.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta run. Boss man is going to be unhappy I’m late so I need to make this quick.”
“All right, all right. I guess I’ll go find some more eggnog.” She sighs. “I’ll talk to you next week so we can hash out those updated ad rates for the new year.”
I turn the car off, effectively disconnecting the Bluetooth and grab the book from my bag. It’s the same book my mother gave me as a kid when I wanted to make my own decorations and needed step by step instructions. I even brought some extra construction paper and new markers. I’m really excited that Calypso has taken an interest in this. Even if she doesn’t decide the Jewish faith is for her, the fact that she wants to know more about it is pretty cool.
Racing to the front door, I knock quickly and wait. No one answers, and I don’t hear any movement inside. Weird. Matthew’s truck is in the driveway, and I know he doesn’t work today.
I opt to ring the doorbell, thinking maybe he’s in the garage working out and just left the garage door down. This time, the door unlocks and opens but it’s not Matthew who answers. It’s a woman.
She’s tall and lithe with the perfect hourglass shape. Her long blonde hair is disheveled in that sexy way that makes you think of “just had toe-curling sex” hair.
And she’s wearing nothing but Matthew’s T-shirt.
The same one I wore the last two times I’ve spent the night. I know because it still has a small black stain on the hem.
I drop my gaze to her bare legs and wiggling toes painted red. As my eyes lift, I can barely focus on her beautiful face, my vision hazy through the emotions building inside me. Instead, I glance past her into the living room and that’s when my heart stops completely.
There on the floor, completely forgotten and being played with by Olaf is Calypso’s stuffed squirrel, Kristoff.
“Can I help you?” She asks pulling my attention back to why I’m here.
“I was… is—?”
“Are you here for Matt? He’s not available.”
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I hand over the book. “Um… can you please give this to Matthew?”
The unknown woman takes it from me and looks down, questioning what it is and why I’m giving it to her. ““How to Make Hanukkah Decorations”? He’s not Jewish. Or crafty.”
Licking my lips, I force myself to breathe normally, even though my lungs have essentially stopped working. I feel like I can’t get enough air, and I just want her to take the book and close the door so I can leave without looking like the freak I feel like I am right now.
I should have seen this coming. I should have known. Technically we’ve only been on one official date. Hell, we’ve never even defined our relationship. There was no discussion of exclusivity. So then why do I feel like my heart has just been sliced in two?
“No, I know. Spri… Calypso wanted to do the crafts so I brought it for her to see.”
“Oh.” That seems to make sense to her so she stands up straighter, the shirt riding up so I can see even more of her perfectly tanned legs. Legs that I’m sure were wrapped around Matthew’s waist because mine never have been. “Is that for her too?” She points to the plastic bag with the supplies I’m holding.
“Huh? Oh, yes.” I hold it out awkwardly, still stunned enough I can’t seem to make words make sense.
She takes it out of my hands slowly, then cocks her head at me in question. “Is that all?”
I fight back the tears that want to fall because they have no right to be there. It’s my fault I fell for Matthew. It’s my fault I let my guard down. This is why I don’t put out. Because these emotions would be a hundred times worse if I’d given that part of me to him.
“That’s all,” I whisper, my voice practically giving out.
“Okay then.” She backs into the house, eyeing me cautiously as she slowly closes the door. “Bye.” And the door is shut. With me still standing there staring at it.
I am so stupid.
I guess I was right to believe the first impression people make. Because I got snowed. Again.
Chapter 29
Matthew
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her, my daughter refuses to accept that while Olaf found Sven it doesn’t mean his barking always equals more squirrel babies. Of course, it doesn’t mean there aren’t any either, but I won’t tell her that. Since I’m a sucker for her big eyes and how worried s
he was for the potential dangers unknown animal babies may encounter, I’m on my hands and knees crawling around in the dirt. Again.
“Dammit,” I shout as a stick pokes me in the knee.
“Daddy, don’t say bad words like that. You could scare the babies.”
“Honey,” I begin as I stand and brush the dirt from my legs. “There are no babies. I told you, Olaf was being beat up by a bird. She probably didn’t like the way he was poking around and was afraid he was after her nest.”
Disappointment is written all over her face as she kicks the ground. I can’t wait to tell Carrie about her little wildlife rescuer in training. Maybe I should talk to her about letting us come hang out with her one day so Sprite can see other rescues at Critter Keepers.
“Can I go shower now? I’m still sweaty from my run earlier and now I have a layer of dirt on top of that.”
“Sorry, Daddy. I thought we were going to save a life today.”
Shaking my head I motion for her to move toward the house. “Again, your Papa and I are having a talk about your screen time. No more live rescue shows.”
Chattering away, she jumps through four different topics before we make it back inside the house. Since I refused to let her join me on the ground, she doesn’t need to do anything except wash her hands, which she rushes to do while I kick my shoes off outside.
The sound of another female voice in the house startles me for a minute, especially because it isn’t Carrie. I almost forgot Delilah was here. When I woke this morning, intent on a quick workout in the garage gym, she was already up meditating in the middle of the living room. At least I think it was meditation. She was sitting on a towel with her legs crossed and eyes closed as her lips moved like she was speaking. Only, there was no sound, not even a whisper.
As soon as I completed one set of bicep curls, she appeared in the garage and told me she was here if I wanted to go for a run. I happily took her up on the offer and pounded out a solid six-mile trek.
“Olaf, no!” I shout as the four-legged monster runs through the room with Kristoff in his mouth. Chasing him, I catch him long enough to pull the stuffed animal from his mouth. “Out! You’re a bad boy.”
“Is that not his toy?”
Turning, I don’t reply as I take in her ensemble.
“Why are you wearing that?” My tone conveys my displeasure in her choice of clothing. Or lack thereof.
“I needed to do some laundry and didn’t have anything to wear. This was on the bed in the guest room so I threw it on. I was just going to put my things in the dryer. I should’ve asked but you were gone. I’m sorry.”
Closing my eyes, I release a long breath before I respond. It isn’t her fault that I now consider that Carrie’s shirt. Or that I hadn’t washed it yet because it smelled like her. Hey, I’ve read some of the books I’m on the cover of. Men can sniff laundry too.
Centering myself I try to refocus. It isn’t a big deal that she’s wearing it. It’s only a shirt. I can wash it. And if everything keeps going the way it has been, Carrie’s scent will be back on it soon enough.
“A woman came by and dropped that off,” she says, pointing at the kitchen counter. “She was a little odd, not really talking and just standing there.”
I don’t bother to hide the smile on my face as I see the book and bag of crafting supplies. “Carrie. Sprite will love this. Did she say anything else?”
“No. I told her you were busy and then she just kind of stared at me. I didn’t realize it was Carrie, but by that look on your face I guess it was.”
“Yep.”
“I wish I had known. I would have invited her in. Calypso couldn’t stop talking about her. She sounds fantastic. Well, except the pet squirrels. Who does that?”
Chuckling I can’t help but agree with her. Although, I can’t imagine her having any other sort of pet. “Only my girl.” And then it hits me. “Wait. You didn’t answer the door like that, did you?” I ask my eyes wide as I realize exactly how little she’s wearing and how bad this could look.
“Matt, I just told you I was doing laundry. What’s wrong with you? Your color is looking a little off. It may be your aura.”
“Tell me you told Carrie you were here for Sprite. That she didn’t see you dressed like that,” I accuse, motioning toward her lack of clothing.
Seeming to only realize how she’s dressed and what that may look like, she gasps. “Oh heavens. You don’t think she thought…?”
“Of course she did,” I try hard not to roar. “You’re a half-naked dancer who answered the door and said I was unavailable. Did you tell her your name or anything so she wouldn’t assume the worst?”
“It never occurred to me. Matt, you must go to her. Or I can—”
“God no! I think you’ve done enough. Okay. I need to think. Shit. We haven’t even defined our relationship. I mean, obviously we’re together. There was the mistletoe. And Christmas Eve. Christmas morning. The dreidel smack talking.”
“What’s wrong with Daddy?” a sweet voice asks. “Why is he walking in a circle like Olaf when he has to go out? Does Daddy have to pee?”
“Honey, your dad seems to be having a breakdown. Why don’t you go grab my bag? I have some crystals in there we can use to help him.”
Glaring at her, I stop and look at Calypso, who is staring at her mother like she’s grown two heads.
“You’re not doing anything but hanging out with our daughter while I go and talk to my girlfriend. And maybe confirm she actually wants to be called my girlfriend.”
Without another word, I head straight for the shower and say a little prayer Carrie isn’t spiraling.
•••
Pulling into the parking lot of Critter Keepers, I notice immediately how empty the place is today. Only a few cars are in the parking lot, Carrie’s parked in front of the main door. The entire time I was in the shower and during my drive here, I’ve tossed around how best to approach the topic of Delilah.
It never occurred to me to call her or even text her last night to let her know I had an impromptu house guest. Hell, I don’t even let my own mother know unless it comes up in conversation. That’s just how long it’s been since I’ve had to think of anyone else or their feelings other than my daughter, and how insignificant her drop-ins are. The reality is, I don’t even think of Delilah as anything other than an acquaintance. We were never in a relationship, and while it was a struggle to accept her choices early on, we’ve grown into a mutual respect for our roles in our daughter’s life. For years, she’s dropped hints that I needed to find someone special, and I have no doubt she’d love Carrie.
Kind of like I’m starting to do. She’s everything I didn’t know I needed for my little family, and I don’t want to lose that over the randomness that is my baby mama.
I know my girl well enough to be fairly certain she’s inside listing every worst-case scenario about Delilah and me. Here goes nothing. Pulling the key from the ignition, I step out of the truck and walk toward the large gray building and the two large glass doors. Tugging one open, I take a deep breath and step inside.
“Well, well lookee who’s here.”
“Good morning, Jamie.”
“She’s losing her shit.”
That’s not encouraging. To be expected, but not encouraging. “I figured. It’s not what she thinks, I swear. Delilah is Calypso’s mother. She’s here for my daughter. Nothing more.”
Nodding, Jamie picks up the phone and pushes a button. Her eyes squint like she’s attempting to glare at me, but the small lift of her lips tells me she believes me. Thank goodness someone will be on my side.
“I need you up here. Uh huh. No. Nobody cares if you have snot on your shirt, Carrie. This is a rescue facility. Tell them it’s squirrel poop. I have to pee and you need to cover the desk. No, you can’t use the phone back there. Be a team player and get up here.”
Jamie rolls her eyes as she returns the receiver to the cradle. Not saying anything, she just stares at me. As
sessing. It’s unnerving, which is strange since I spend much of my spare time with someone holding a camera staring at me. Unable to take the awkwardness, I turn my back on her and stare out the window.
When a door opens, I hear a gasp and a mumbled “crap on a cracker” behind me. Slowly, I spin to take in my beautiful girlfriend. Her hair is piled on top of her head haphazardly and there is a large spot on the front of her blue scrubs top. But it’s the sadness in her eyes that I really notice. Crap on a cracker is right.
Carrie sniffs and slowly turns to her friend. At least her sadness changed to menace. “You are dead to me, Jamie.”
“Sorry not sorry.”
I stand with my hands in my pockets as Jamie leaves us alone, slipping through the door Carrie just closed. Offering her a small smile, I take a tentative step forward and when she doesn’t move, I take another. Seemingly safe, I close the distance between us and rest my hands on the counter.
“Thank you for the book. Sprite already had it spread out on the table when I left.”
“I’m glad. My mom gave me that book when I was about her age. It’s very special to me.”
“Carrie, about Delilah—”
“That was Delilah?” she interrupts, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. Maybe I have a shot to clear this up after all.
“Yeah. She showed up late last night out of the blue. Apparently, her dance tour is on hiatus for the holidays.”
Carrie nods and folds her arms over her chest. Okay, maybe this won’t be as easy to fix as I hoped.
“She called you Matt.”
Confused, I furrow my brow.
“When I was there, she called you Matt.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. No matter how many times I tell her I don’t go by a nickname, she doesn’t listen. There’s nothing going on.” I’m practically begging her to understand. “I’m sure it looked bad, but I swear she’s only here to see Sprite. I didn’t even know she was coming, and she never has a place to stay.”
Model Behavior Page 22
