by Cat Carmine
“Sounds like we could all use some ice cream,” she says, dropping her clutch and heading into the kitchen. Since she used to live here, she has no qualms about rooting through our refrigerator, apparently.
She returns a minute later with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and three spoons. I hobble over to the couch and flop down next to Lucy, and Rori sits on the other side of me. Since I’m in the middle, she hands me the pint and a spoon. I stab the rock hard ice cream and swallow a huge mouthful.
“How many calories do you think are in this?” I ask, licking off the spoon.
Rori and Lucy both groan in unison.
“Enough with the calories,” Rori laments. “No one gives a shit except you, Emma.”
I bite back a smile. “I guess you’re right. I think I deserve a little ice cream tonight, anyway.”
“I’ll say.” Rori attacks the ice cream with her spoon and swallows a huge bite, rolling her eyes in pleasure. It’s New York Super Fudge Chunk, and even I have to admit it’s seriously fucking delicious.
“Are you guys ever going to tell me what happened?” Lucy asks.
“Maybe.”
Rori laughs. “Give her a couple shots of tequila, and she'll tell you everything.”
Lucy nods knowingly, a wicked grin on her face. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Actually,” Rori says, sitting up straight and pointing her spoon at us. “It does sound like a plan. We should go out next weekend — another girl's night. Something to take your mind off all this.”
I shake my head. “No way. I told you what happened last time we had a girls’ night, didn’t I?”
Rori grins. “I promise we won’t let that happen this time. Lucy and I will make sure you don’t have any opportunities to even drunkenly text him. Right, Lucy?”
Lucy looks confused but game. She crosses her fingers over her heart. “Swear on my favorite sweatpants.”
I giggle. I have to admit, I’m glad that I didn’t end up back at the apartment alone tonight. Having Rori and Lucy here is almost … almost … enough to take my mind off my earlier humiliation.
“Fine. But not next weekend. I promised Blake she could come for a visit.”
Rori slaps her hand against her thigh. “Even better. No one knows how to party like Blake. Don't worry, she'll take your mind off everything.”
I roll my eyes. My sister isn’t wrong about that. Last time Blake came into the city to visit, she got so drunk that Rori and I spent the entire night trying to peel her off the floor of The Bristow’s ladies’ bathroom.
“Fine,” I concede. But I beg my sister, “Just promise me you won't tell her about any of this.”
“I promise I won’t say anything,” Rori says. “But don't be surprised if Blake manages to weasel it out of you anyway. You know she’s good at that sort of thing.”
I laugh. That actually wouldn't surprise me.
We all go quiet for a minute while we watch Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal bicker on screen. Rori scoops up another spoonful of ice cream. “So, what are you going to do about Tyler?”
My stomach bottoms out, and the fragile lightness that had crept into my mood vanishes. “I think the answer is obvious, don't you? I have to stop seeing him.” I stab out a spoonful of ice cream, making sure I get a chocolate chunk and a walnut in the same bite.
Rori raises her eyebrows. “That doesn't seem like the obvious answer to me. In fact, it doesn't seem like he wants that at all, and to be honest, it doesn’t seem like you do, either.”
I sigh. “It doesn’t really matter what I want. I’m trying to do the right thing here, and being with Tyler has done nothing but mess up my life so far. I can’t keep living like this.”
Lucy is looking curiously between my sister and me. I still haven’t told her everything that’s been going on with Tyler, but I’m sure she’s starting to piece some things together, even if she doesn’t have all the gory details.
“Maybe you should at least talk to him,” Rori chides gently. “I saw two people up on that stage tonight.”
“What stage?” Lucy asks, with a stricken expression.
I ignore her question and stab my spoon into the ice cream again. “Well, it doesn't really matter what he wants,” I say bitterly. “He may have been up on the stage with me, but he didn’t exactly bother to follow me out. And he hasn’t called, either.” I try to keep the sniffle out of my voice.
“How do you know? You haven’t checked your phone since we left.”
For a second, my heart lifts. She’s right — I haven’t. Maybe he’s trying desperately to get ahold of me, to tell me not to let this go.
Would I listen? If he did call, would I answer?
I don’t know. But I suddenly feel desperate to know. I try to heave myself up off the couch but Rori pulls me back down.
“Hold on, I’ll get it.” She grabs my clutch from the hallway console table where I’d thrown it when we came in. She marches back across the living room and hands it to me solemnly.
I reach inside and pull out my phone, barely daring to breathe. Part of me desperately wants to see his name on my missed calls list … and part of me doesn’t.
I stare down at the screen and let out the breath.
No missed calls. Nothing at all except a notification that my favorite shoe store has some special deals picked out just for me. Whoopdee-doo.
I toss the phone and the clutch onto the coffee table.
“Happy now?” I ask Rori. She bites her lip but doesn’t say anything.
The three of us sit there until the ice cream is gone and the movie is finished. Lucy and Rori are both falling asleep, but I’m wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about how I should have never spilled that glass of wine, back at Veneer, on a day that seems like a lifetime ago.
Twenty-Five
“We’re going to lose him.” I look grimly over at Lacy.
“Noooo!” Tears fill her eyes. She casts a pleading glance in my direction, but there’s nothing I can do.
“It’s okay, baby,” Brendan says from the small screen of my phone where he’s been talking to us. His eyes look tired, but he hasn’t been able to keep the grin off his face since we called him. “I have to get on the plane, anyway. You’re doing great.”
“I love you,” Lacy sniffs, hugging her newborn baby boy to her chest. “Get here soon, okay?”
“I promise. I love you both.”
My phone chooses that moment to die completely. The screen goes black, as a single tear rolls down Lacy’s cheek.
I sit on the edge of her bed, careful to avoid her feet under the blankets.
“It’s okay. He’s going to be here in …” I check my watch. “Less than six hours.”
She lets her head fall back against the pillow. “I’m so stupid. I should have never come out here without him. He warned me that I was too close to my delivery date, but my doctor thought I’d be fine as long as I walked a lot on the plane and drank a lot of water. I was going to be flying back home tomorrow, anyway…”
Lacy is rambling, and she’s already told me all of this about six times now, but I know that having her baby in New York, and without her husband here to coach her, was not exactly on her agenda for this weekend. Besides, I feel guilty that I’m the one who kept telling her she should come out here for the annual gala. I had never thought that the pregnancy would be an issue. Obviously, neither had Lacy.
“Hey.” I pat her leg through the blanket. “You did great. This little guy just couldn’t wait to meet his cool Uncle Tyler, that’s all.”
Lacy gives me a weepy grin. She turns the baby gently so that he’s sort of facing me. His tiny face is scrunched up, eyes closed, lips pursed. He looks like a super adorable raisin.
“Was it worth it, baby?” she whispers. “Was meeting this clown really worth it?”
“Hey now!” I protest, grinning.
“Seriously, Ty, thanks for being here.” She tucks the baby against her chest again. He makes a soft sighing noise.
“I really appreciate everything you did tonight. I hope I didn’t ruin your night.”
“Never,” I say. I feel a bit embarrassed that she seems to be tearing up again. “You know I wouldn’t be anywhere else but right here with you.”
Okay, that’s slightly a lie. Ever since we’d left the hotel, Emma had been occupying at least half of my thoughts. Even when Lacy was squeezing my hand so hard I thought she was going to break a bone, even when we were both doing some kind of crazy lamaze breathing that surprisingly felt kinda good, even when my tiny, perfect nephew was bursting forth into the world, Emma wasn’t far from my mind. I couldn’t vanquish the thought of her walking — well, hobbling — down that hotel corridor, out the front door and out of my life. I wanted to go to her, to apologize, to make her see that we had something that couldn’t be thrown away.
Except my father’s words kept echoing through my head, too. That he’d already had one child disappoint him. Do I really want to be the second?
I sigh. I look at my sister as she nuzzles her baby. My blood starts to bubble in my veins again, not for the first time tonight. Is it really fair of Dad to call her a disappointment just because she chose love over the family business? Being here with her tonight, holding her hand while she pushed through the contractions and sweated huge buckets and cursed me and Brendan and every sperm-producing mammal on the planet, had reminded me of how amazing and strong my little sister is. Kick-ass might even be the way I’d describe it.
Thinking of the way my father had let her walk away — the way we all had — makes me angry. And maybe more than that, it makes me sad.
“Hey Lacy,” I say, concentrating on a tiny brown stain on the hospital bed’s blue blanket. “Do you ever regret leaving the company?”
Lacy doesn’t answer for a minute. I think she’s pissed that I asked, until I look up and see more tears streaking down her cheeks. Oh fuck. I’m really on a roll tonight.
“Sorry, sis. I didn’t mean anything by it — I know you’re happy with Brendan. You’ve got a good thing going.”
She shakes her head, brushing at her cheeks with the hand that’s not wrapped around the baby.
“No, it’s not that. It’s that … yeah, I miss it,” she admits. “Every day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely head over heels in love with Brendan. And this guy, too, now,” she adds, nuzzling her nose against the small, fuzzy blue cap the baby is wearing. “But I miss the business. I miss feeling like I was contributing something, you know? And of course, I miss you and Mom and Dad, too, … when he’s not being an ass, at least.”
I chuckle at that last comment. There are some things only a sibling can understand.
“So … why’d you do it? Couldn’t you have stayed here and had Brendan and the job? Why’d you have to choose?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I tried for a while, to do both. But you know what Dad’s like — it’s slavish devotion or nothing. There are no half measures with him. I would lie awake at night, wrapped up in Brendan’s arms, and wonder if we were going to turn into Mom and Dad someday. Except in my mind, I was Dad — too wrapped up in work to appreciate the things that are right in front of me. I couldn’t stand the thought of that happening.”
I nod, suddenly getting where she’s been coming from all these months. I’m already feeling the strain of juggling both Emma and my job and the weight of Dad’s expectations, and I’m not even nearly as invested in Good Grant as Lacy was.
“It seems kinda stupid in retrospect…” Lacy muses. She wipes away another stray tear. They haven’t stopped trailing down her face since we began this conversation. I grab the box of tissues from the nightstand next to her. She takes one gratefully and blows her nose with her free hand.
“Have you ever thought of coming back?”
Lacy snorts. “Even if I wanted to, there’s no way Dad would take me back. I’m sure he sees what I did as the ultimate betrayal. Rejecting the job he groomed me for is about as bad as rejecting him. In fact, it’s probably the same thing in his eyes.” She shakes her head sadly. “Besides, he has you. You’re the chosen child now.”
She tries to smile, and I try to match it — but it’s obvious to me, and probably to her, too, that neither of us are feeling it.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I’m doing a shit job of filling your shoes,” I admit. “Dad isn’t exactly happy with me at the moment.”
Instead of sitting back down, I stroll over to the window. The sun is starting to come up over the hospital parking lot, and for a second I’m transported back to the last time I spent an extended time in the hospital, waiting with Emma when she’d sprained her ankle. My heart thuds against my ribs, and I swallow. I can’t think about her right now — I have to focus on my sister. I’ll figure out what to do about Emma later.
I turn to find Lacy watching me.
“What’s going on, Ty?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t say nothing — you look like you just found out there’s no Santa Claus.”
I force another grin. “Fine. Let me rephrase — nothing that you need to concern yourself with. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
“What do I have on my plate at this exact minute? This guy’s asleep, and Brendan won’t be here for at least another five hours. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Yeah, and you should be using that time to get ahead on your sleep. I have a feeling you’re not going to get very much of it over the next little while.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”
I slump down into one of the visitor chairs across from her bed. “I’m starting to see why you were so good at your job — has anyone ever told you you’re relentless?”
Lacy grins. “It was number one on my corporate strengths assessment.”
I roll my eyes, chuckling. “Lucky me.” But still, I find myself telling her about Good Grant Books’ failing bottom line, about all the things I think we could be doing better, and, of course, about how I’d spectacularly blown it with Dad tonight.
Lacy’s face goes through a variety of expressions as I talk — from interested and assessing when I tell her about our lackluster annual report, to completely incredulous when I explain making out with Emma backstage at the gala.
By the time I’m done talking, her eyes have rolled so far back in her head all I can see is white.
“Pretty dumb, right?”
“I’ll say,” she shakes her head, but she’s laughing. “Tell me about this girl. Is she special?”
I snort. Not because Emma’s not special, but because the question is absurd. Is the Mona Lisa special? Is the Hope Diamond? But Lacy is looking at me expectantly.
“Yeah, she’s special.”
“So, this isn’t just Tyler’s flavor of the week?”
I shake my head. Emma’s the flavor of a lifetime.
“Then you need to fix things with Dad. Make him see that you can still take the job seriously, that you weren’t just screwing around.”
“How do I do that?”
“Set up a meeting with him. Pitch him the ideas you just told me — the ebooks and the subscription services and all that other stuff. He’ll come around. He needs to see you’re still taking the job seriously, despite what happened tonight.”
I nod slowly. Lacy has a point. I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Dad about work lately — despite the annual report’s shortcomings, this quarter is already starting to turn around thanks to the self-help line, and we’re starting to regain some ground in the mass-market paperback sector. That’s got to count for something.
“But Tyler ...”
“What?”
She’s frowning at me. “You have to fix things with the girl, too. Don’t be like me — don’t run from one end of the goal to the other because you’re too afraid to shoot for both. Love and success doesn’t have to be a choice. Just because we share half of Dad’s genes doesn’t mean either of us has to turn into him, you know?�
��
I give her a smirk. “So what you’re saying is I’m a twenty-first century man, and I really can have it all?”
She bursts out laughing, then abruptly stops, checking to make sure she hasn’t startled the baby. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying, Ty,” she whispers. “You can and, more importantly, you deserve to have it all.”
“Thanks, Lacy. You sure you wouldn’t consider coming back to the business? Imagine what we could do together…”
Lacy shakes her head. “I doubt Dad would have me.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, but Lacy has already turned her attention back to the baby. “Speaking of Dad, do you want me to call him and Mom for you? Regardless of everything else that went down, you know they’re going to want to meet their grandson.”
Lacy smiles softly. “I know. But your phone is dead, remember? I’m going to wait until Brendan is here — I’ll feel better doing it if he’s by my side.”
“Fair enough.” I stand up. “You should probably get some sleep for real now.”
This time she doesn’t protest. She lets me help her put the baby in the crib beside her bed, then falls back into the bed, clearly exhausted. But her eyes snap open as I walk towards the door of her room. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“Me? No way. I’m just going to the waiting room to grab some of those old Ladies’ Home Journal magazines I saw. A twenty-first century man can never have too many coffee cake recipes, you know.”
Lacy smiles, but her eyes are already drifting closed as I quietly leave the room.
Twenty-Six
“Look, you don’t have to wear make-up or big-ass earrings. You don’t even have to smile if you don’t want to. But you are not wearing that to the bar.”
Blake points down at the stained sweatpants I’m wearing, the Wesleyan t-shirt with the hole in the back of the neck. I’ve been wearing pretty much this exact outfit since the gala last weekend. Since I walked away from Tyler for good. Lucy has kept me supplied with plenty of baked goods for my wallowing pleasure — hence the stains — and I’ve been on a non-stop Desperate Housewives binge marathon. I admit, there’s something kind of satisfying about being a complete and utter sloth.
