The Possibility of Perfect (A Stand By Me Novel Book 4)

by Brinda Berry

  “Why are you in my bed?” she whispers across the pillow. Her eyes are luminous in the sunlight that streams the bedroom window.

  “The guest room is too far away. I wanted to be here in case you needed me. Can’t sleep?”

  “I guess not.”

  “What’s wrong?” I scoot a little closer and reach out to run my hand along the velvet skin of her arm. I lay on top of the comforter in the clothes I’d worn last night. Somehow it didn’t seem right to undress and sneak into her bed, as tempting as the thought was.

  “I’m not sure what we are doing,” she says. “Everything you said earlier is true. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. But we start messing around again…start sleeping together….and it’s bound to get messy. This baby is relying on us to make our relationship the best it can be. So, I guess I’m saying that I’ve decided to be your best friend again, but I can’t be the other. I want it to be like before.”

  “What if we can’t go back to that time?”

  “You’re not even trying,” she mutters and closes her eyes.

  “I want to try. Don’t say I’m not. But I want to be a couple. Two people who are best friends and lovers.” I reach across and sweep the bangs from her eyes. Then I caress her cheek and bring my face closer to hers, nose to nose. “We can become a couple. It’s easy.”

  “How many women have you dated?” Her voice is even. Not spiteful in the least. She merely wants the fact.

  My mouth hardens because I'm mad at myself. I know where she’s going with this. And I am going to be in the wrong. “More than I can count.”

  It’s not a brag. I'm not giving an excuse at this point, because I don’t have one.

  She nods her head. “And of those women, what’s the longest you’ve dated someone?”

  I struggle in desperation to come up with a number that will help my case. Something to redeem me as a decent guy. Then I say what I really feel. “I told you that I went from realizing you and I could have something to finding out about Ellen and my totally fucked up genetic makeup.”

  “Then you really haven’t had much practice. You don’t even know how long you could date someone. If you could tell me you had dated someone for six months I’d have more faith in us holding this together. Plus there’s the fact that you could’ve asked me out a long time ago. Before you found out about your birth mother. But the fact is you didn’t. The fact is, we messed up a great friendship by having sex. Don’t you see how telling that is?”

  I have to prove we can be a couple. “I’m going to prove you wrong. That you want me as more than a friend.”

  “Why am I not surprised you have this attitude?” She cocks one eyebrow. “God. Maybe your friendship is what’s best for me. I can be very satisfied with a platonic relationship.”

  I have five months—until the baby comes—to prove I can get past being afraid of my genetics and all that might bring. “I want to show you I can be what you need. What the baby needs. Can you spend the day with me?”

  Slivers of sunlight steal through the window blinds. I’m glad for having Harper as my backup at the restaurant. One text and I can let her know I won’t be coming in today.

  “Depends. What do you want to do?”

  “Anything you want. Name what your little heart desires.”

  “Okay. I’ll think on it and tell you after breakfast.”

  My heart does a little jig. “Sleep a while longer. Lie around in bed. Rest. I’ll get up and make breakfast.”

  “I want to meet Ellen.” Josie closes the book she’s been reading for an hour. “If she’s part of your life and part of mine, she’ll be in our baby’s life. I want to meet her.”

  I inhale deeply and massage the back of my neck. “I don’t know Josie. I mean, I just told her about you. But I didn't tell her about the baby.”

  “Why not?” Frown lines bunch in the middle of her forehead. “You should tell her. Why wouldn’t you? She's going to be a grandmother."

  “I don’t really want her around the baby.”

  She cocks her head to the side as if trying to puzzle out my thoughts. “What did you think you would do? Hide the baby forever?”

  “No, Butterfly. But I don’t expect Ellen to act as a grandmother to this child.”

  “That’s not really fair. I mean, she can’t be that bad if she’s on medication or something.”

  Sometimes you just have to see things for yourself. She doesn't get it. Ellen is too unpredictable. If I had a dog, I wouldn’t leave it with Ellen. “Alright then. You can meet her. When?”

  “How about today? Now?”

  My stomach bottoms out in a nervous crash. Today is not going as I planned. I wanted us to bond. I didn’t expect to give her more reasons to stay away from me. “She’s probably busy.”

  “Call her and see. If we can’t see her today, I understand.”

  There’s a look in Josie’s eyes that tells me she thinks this is part of what establishes a permanence in our relationship. If I refuse to take her to meet Ellen, she’ll read too much into it. I grab my cell phone from the side table.

  Ellen answers on the first ring.

  “Hey, Ellen. It’s Dane.”

  “Oh.”

  “How are you?” I hold my breath and anticipate a variety of responses. I’m on top of the world. Or I’m barricading myself in against zombies.

  One never knows with her.

  “I could be better,” she says. “When are you coming to visit me?”

  “Funny that you ask. I—”

  “Why is that funny?” she demands.

  I sigh. “Ellen. I thought I might bring my…” I glance over to Josie. “..my girlfriend to meet you. You’ll like her.”

  I hate talking to Ellen like she’s a child, but I’ve learned that communication with her is different.

  “Don’t bring anyone else. Only this girl. Okay?” Ellen waits for a response.

  Christ on a cracker. “Of course. Only Josie. We’ll see you in a while.”

  And Ellen hangs up. No goodbye. No further conversation needed.

  I see the threatening storm in the distance, one I can’t take shelter from. Josie will spend five minutes with Ellen on a bad day. Not only will Josie want me as far out of her life as possible, she’ll have a restraining order against my crazy birth mother.

  She'll cut me out of her life. She’ll see that she has the potential for a great life without me. She’ll see that staying with me only means trouble.

  On the bad idea meter, this rates a twelve.

  We don’t talk on the drive to Ellen's apartment building across town. It’s a clean but old and in a part of town I’d bet Josie’s never visited. Not pretty gates or signs announcing the complex name. Subsidized housing is never fancy. Ellen once said a lot of people on public assistance live here.

  A little money from me could easily change Ellen’s situation. I could get her a better apartment. But I would end up paying all her bills because she’d lose her Medicaid and public assistance.

  I only know this because of Ellen’s freakout when I offered to help with her bills once.

  And the more I ingrain myself into her life, the more she relies on me. I see it happening already.

  Her dependence worries me.

  “Do you think we could take her to lunch? That would sort of break the ice.” Josie looks around the apartment complex.

  “Let's see how it goes.” First, we need to know if she's having an on day or an off day. I can’t always tell on the phone. Our chances are fifty-fifty at this point.

  The apartment complex has three floors but Ellen lives on the ground one. I knock twice and realize she’s not going to answer until I go through our ritual of me calling her to confirm identity. These are the things I don’t want to explain to Josie. It’s embarrassing and I don’t want Josie to be scared.

  I locate her in my contact list. “Hey Ellen. It’s Dane outside your door.”

  Josie gives me a look. “Is she expecting someone el
se?”

  “No. But she’s funny about just opening her door.”

  “Oh,” Josie says. “I get it. Woman living alone. Smart.”

  Several clicks sound as Ellen goes through the process of unlocking her three deadbolts. Josie slides me a look, then returns her gaze to the door. This is a mistake.

  The door finally opens. “Hi Dane,” Ellen says. She’s clean and wearing a nice sweater. “Hello there. Come on in.”

  Maybe I've been worried for nothing.

  “Hi Ellen. This is my girlfriend Josie. I told you about her."

  “Hi Ellen,” Josie says. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Ellen steps aside so we can enter the apartment. The studio apartment reeks of moth balls and dirty laundry. The walls are bare and pale yellow—less the buttercup color of field flowers and more the stain of grease and smoke.

  Every surface is bare.

  I once asked her if she’d like me to bring her some lamps for her end tables. She refused my offer with an excuse that they hide cameras in the lamps. I’m not sure if she were talking about me, the government, or fucking aliens.

  “How long have you known Dane?” Ellen sits on her recliner which faces the sofa.

  “All my life really,” Josie says. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

  Ellen nods. “I sure made a good-looking boy, didn’t I? Movie-star handsome.”

  “He is handsome all right.” Josie relaxes on the sofa.

  “You sleep with only my Dane? Or are there other men in your life?” Ellen asked the question as calmly is asking about the weather.

  “Ellen,” I say in a scolding tone. Here we go. This was a mistake. I should have known that we couldn’t have just a normal conversation for five minutes. “That’s none of your business and rude.”

  “How else do I get to know her?” Then Ellen folds her hands and studies them. “A lot of women would want Dane. I just thought I’d make sure you are only with him and not sleeping with half a dozen.”

  “She’s only with me. Be nice, Ellen.” This last statement won’t do any good. It’s like Ellen lacks a filter.

  Josie sits stiffly beside me and clears her throat. “No men in my life at the moment,” Josie says. “What about you? You have anybody you’re sleeping with?”

  Shit. Okay. Maybe that was fair.

  Ellen’s lips tighten into a thin line. “No. I don’t sleep with anyone these days. I only have Dane in my life. I don’t trust anyone else.”

  I take a deep breath and fill my lungs. “Josie wanted us to go to lunch. There’s a new place around the corner called Give Me Vegan. That sounds like Josie’s kind of place. How about it Ellen?”

  Josie hops to her feet. “Sounds good,” she says in a grateful tone. “I’d love to have a tofu burger.”

  I link my fingers through hers for reassurance that we’ll survive this visit with Ellen. It’s got to be weirder than Josie imagined. Stroking my thumb against Josie’s wrist, I tuck her against my side.

  “You mean a dirt burger?” Ellen mutters low. “I tasted one of those and had to spit it out.”

  “They’re delicious,” Josie says without blinking. “Much better than eating something that once had a face.”

  My nerves dial down and I grin. This is why I’m crazy about Josie.

  Ellen, score 5 on inappropriate remarks. Josie, score 10 on blowing off inappropriate remarks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It's a Medical Thing

  Josie

  July

  Lunch can be defined as marginally awkward. Dane keeps sliding worried looks my way and Ellen asks me everything but my bra size…she saves that jewel until the end.

  “You’re really pretty,” Ellen says. “I love your hair. I saw some dark hairpieces just your color at the beauty supply store. Is that your hair or wig?”

  “All mine.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. Does it look like I wear fake hair? Holy crud.

  “Dane must like big breasted women.” Ellen continues and takes a large bite of her burger. She chews for a minute, then speaks around a bite of burger. “He likes the girls built like his mama. I bet you’re almost a size C. You can have surgery for that, you know.”

  I don’t tell her that my boobs are almost a cup larger than a few months ago.

  Dane turns a faint shade of purple which must be a result of restraining himself if his murderous look is anything to go by. “Josie’s perfect. But her body shape has little to do with it. It’s the inside of a woman that matters, don’t you think?”

  Liar. Sweet mother, he’s such a liar. My lips twitch and I wiggle in my seat. Then he gives me an innocent albeit serious look.

  And I blush.

  Thank goodness we end the meal without any more embarrassing remarks from Ellen. If Dane wasn’t so horrified—as in I-can’t-believe-she’s-my-mother horrified— I’d tease him about her.

  To say Ellen is different is like saying the moon is round. It’s an understatement that makes me chuckle instead of distressing me.

  So the woman wants to make sure her son is the only guy banging me. Isn’t this what most mothers want but don’t say?

  So she doesn’t like vegan food. It’s her prerogative. But man is she missing out.

  So…her apartment smells like old cheese. God. I wish I knew what that’s about. Maybe it’s better left a mystery.

  Next on the agenda, my doctor’s appointment. I’m using the same guy who is Kiley’s doctor, Dr. Mark Shaffer. Or as I now call him, Mr. Silver Fox.

  Beautiful hair, sharp blue eyes, and a smile for days. But that’s not why I wanted him for my doctor. He’s actually the best doc in town according to all the awards he’s won. Although his new patient waiting list is a mile long, he took me because Kiley’s dad, my Uncle Ed, asked him.

  “Thanks for letting me come with you,” Dane says and pilfers through the magazines on the table in front of us. New Mother. American Baby. Parenting.

  Not a sports magazine to be found in a hundred-yard radius. Poor Dane.

  Dr. Shaffer’s waiting room buzzes with activity as if to say, ‘Welcome to your new phase of life where zen is officially over.’ Several of the pregnant women have children with them. Noisy children who lack volume control, stomp with the force of a small brontosaurus and prove that humans—no matter what age—are social creatures.

  “What’s your name?” A girl with sparkling eyes and deep dimples asks Dane. She’s a doll.

  She places her hand on Dane’s knee when he doesn’t answer immediately. Lifting her one foot in some acrobatic stance, she tilts her body to one side and uses Dane for balance.

  “Dane. What’s yours?” He leans in when he asks, his chocolate eyes glittering with amusement.

  She beams at him, showing tiny pearl-like teeth. “Macey. I am going to have a brother. What kind of baby is she going to have?” The girl points at me in acknowledgment.

  Smart kid. It’s surprising since I didn’t realize she’d even looked my way. All her focus seemed to be on him. Typical female behavior around Dane.

  Dane shakes his head. “We don’t know yet.”

  “I like you. How old are you?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond. “I’m four. I have a birthday soon and I’ll be five.”

  She holds up her fingers as a visual aid for him. Then unfolds her thumb and gives him a wink. Good grief. The tiny harlot is hitting on him.

  Dane laughs at this, his dimples framing a wide smile.

  Little Macey giggles and twists her hips while her hand remains on his knee.

  I can’t blame her. Dane is made of tall, dark, and muscles. When he’s amused, his eyes shine all warm and rich--like the center of my favorite Godiva chocolates. He wears a friendly expression that warms even the wariest introvert. Dane’s a chick magnet.

  “I’m old. Twenty-six years old.” His dimples flirt with me without even trying.

  “Leave the man alone.” Macey’s mother says in an amused tone that tells me that M
acey is also a flirter. She puts her knitting on the seat next to her.

  I study the blue baby blanket she’s working on and wish I had more of the traditional mothering skills in place. Knitting. Trying to tie gift wrapping makes me sort of sweaty.

  “I’m Grace,” the flirting four-year-old’s mother says. “Macey usually stays with a sitter during my appointments. But today we have an ultrasound, and she begged to come along.”

  “The doctor will take pictures of Mommy’s belly.” Macey never takes her eyes off Dane. “And guess what?”

  “What?” He leans down and lifts his eyebrows.

  “I have a va-gi-na.” This sentence comes out at a volume equivalent to that of an auctioneer at a sale barn. Her excitement and showmanship evident in the way she draws out the last word in perfect enunciation.

  The air in the room grows impossibly still.

  “And you’re a boy, so you have a—” Macey announces, one breath away from impressing us with more of her knowledge of anatomy.

  “Macey,” her mother cuts in. “Over here. Now.”

  Dane grabs the nearest magazine with a baby on the cover and becomes quickly engrossed in an article. Goodness. His cheeks are slightly flushed.

  I silently chuckle at his unexpected embarrassment. One time at the bar, Dane listened to a 200-pound guy cry and confess his love for him. The guy jumped on the stage and recited a poem of adoration. Oh how he loved the way Dane’s strong forearms flex when he mixes drinks.

  I giggled for days over that one, but it never fazed Dane. He’d smile. Yeah. But it was just another day at Dastardly Bastards Bar. Another smitten client.

  But today, forty pounds of child talking human anatomy makes Dane blush.

  Fatherhood is going to be great for this guy.

  The door from the back of the room opens, and a nurse dressed in blue scrubs pokes her head through the doorway. “Josie.”

  I grab my purse from the chair next to me and stand, raising my hand like a kid in class. The nurse acknowledges me and holds the door wider so I can follow.