CURVEBALL

by Mariah Dietz

  “I loved him,” she says again.

  “So why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I couldn’t. You loved him too, and I’m pretty sure he’s always loved you, and I was so jealous.”

  “He didn’t love me, Rachel. He’s never loved me!”

  She shakes her head. “He’s always loved you. Why do you think no one dates you? He’s made it so no one in this town goes near you.”

  “That’s not love! That’s control! How can you not see that?”

  She’s crying harder, her breaths now gasps, and nine years of friendship have me wanting to comfort her and tell her we can get past this and everything will be okay, understanding how hard it is to love someone even when you don’t want to. But my arms won’t rise and my feet won’t move. The rumors she spread are being whispered in my ear louder and faster, building a resentment that is too large to overcome, at least for now.

  I turn on my heel and shove the door open hard enough to get out some of my anger, and stop when I nearly run into Patrick and Coen.

  27

  Coen

  Ella’s eyes look nearly feral as she looks over me and then Patrick and then me again.

  “Ella,” I begin, but she shakes her head and moves past us.

  “Ella!” I yell, following her at a jog so I can keep up.

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Coen,” she says, fishing for her keys.

  I grab her purse, afraid she might actually try to drive, though, she can barely see because she’s crying so hard. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “What are you doing with him? Is this a joke? Am I a joke?”

  I look over my shoulder to where Patrick is standing on the sidewalk, watching us. “I came to talk to him.”

  “You lied to me!” she yells. “I’m so sick and tired of everyone lying to me.” She reaches for her purse and pulls hard enough there’s a loud rip before one of the straps breaks and Ella stumbles backward.

  I grab her, dropping her purse in the process.

  “I wasn’t trying to lie to you—”

  “You said you had to work!”

  “Because I didn’t know how this would go.”

  Ella isn’t listening to me, she’s already reaching for her purse, slapping my hand when I try to help.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I tell her, grabbing the bag.

  “Yes. I. Am!” she shouts the words, her eyes glaring daggers.

  “What happened?” I repeat.

  “You’re all a bunch of liars! I hate you!” She slams her palms into my chest, pushing me back several inches, and then reaches for the car door and gets inside.

  I don’t know where to begin because I have no idea what went so wrong, but I open the passenger door and sit next to where her arms are folded over the steering wheel as she cries.

  Watching Ella cry is what I imagine torture to feel like. I want to make it stop but can’t, and the longer it lasts the harder it is to endure.

  “I came to talk to him,” I say, rubbing my hand across her back. “I wasn’t trying to lie to you, Ella. I just didn’t want to add more stress to you because I know how hard these past few weeks have been.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “I wanted to talk to him about us and about Hayden. About me being in both of your lives.”

  Ella shifts, and I see a glimpse of her eyes, and like always, I see the blue zone, that area where the fire burns the brightest and hottest.

  “I explained to him that I knew he loved you, and that I understood why, and why he had such a hard time with me being a part of your life now, then said the best way to love you would be to let you be happy and promised I would do that.” I’d hated every damn second of it because I don’t feel that the bastard deserve either my time or respect, but Ella and Hayden do.

  “She had an affair with Patrick,” Ella says. “For years they’ve been having an affair.”

  She’s trusting me with the root of her pain, and though she doesn’t say it—I know she believes me. That fact slows her words from sinking into my thoughts. Then, like a key shifting, things begin to line up and the final confirmation is seeing Rachel come out onto the sidewalk, her face red and blotchy as she slaps Patrick across his face.

  “She hates me for falling for you, but she’s been lying to me since I met her, and I don’t know that I’m any better because I’ve been lying to her since I met you.” She buries her face in her hands again, and my heart grows tight.

  “You didn’t lie to her, baby,” I say, rubbing her back.

  She raises her head and nods. “I didn’t tell her I had feelings for you. She point-blank asked me if I did when Hayden was in the hospital, and I didn’t tell her. A lie by omission is still a lie.”

  “Babe, you were trying to do it in a way that would hurt her the least. I don’t think anyone would fault you.”

  “But they should,” she cries. “I was a terrible friend. And this morning all I could think about was if you were lying. If you were seeing someone else, and why you were being so vague. I’m so jaded, I expect people to lie. You don’t want me in your life.”

  Having been raised with four sisters and a brother who often is more dramatic than all of them, I sift through her words and focus on the important points and then reach for her again.

  “Let me drive you home. Let’s go talk.”

  When she doesn’t object, I get out of the car and go around to the driver’s side where I open the door. She slides out and with her head hanging, walks to the other side.

  Once her seat belt is fastened, I start the car and head to her house, keeping my hand on her knee.

  The moment we get inside, Ella kicks off her shoes and mumbles something about changing and heads upstairs. After locking the front door, I follow her up.

  She’s sitting on her bed when I enter and tears are again falling down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to not compare what you say and do to him.” Ella looks heartbroken to admit this, like it’s going to defeat her.

  Then I realize she’s worried it will defeat us.

  “I expect it will be like most adversities and take some time, and thankfully we have that. I told you before we will go at whatever pace is best for us.”

  “But is our relationship built on lies?”

  “Because you were trying to protect your best friend and didn’t tell her we were dating?” I want to simplify this for her, help her to understand. “Our relationship hasn’t been and won’t be touched by anyone else. It’s ours.”

  “I don’t want to ruin us.”

  I shake my head, keeping her blue eyes locked with mine. “You won’t, Ella. You can’t. If every omission is a lie, then I’ve been lying to you for weeks because all I want to do is tell you how much I love you and how badly I want you to be with me, and I don’t because I don’t want to force you to have to choose between what might be and what is.”

  I swear the blue of Ella’s eyes somehow manages to brighten even more, and like fire, it spreads, heating me, invigorating me. Each fire has a burning period: the time defined by when the fire spreads the fastest. It’s a term that has been incorporated into my life so deeply that I now judge everything by its speed and growth, and sitting here, looking at Ella, I know I’ll never be able to define the burning period when it comes to her because each time I think I can’t love her more, she proves me wrong again.

  Ella reaches for me, pulling me closer. “I choose whichever path includes you.”

  “They’ll both include me,” I tell her again.

  Ella’s lips press against mine and unlike this morning, they’re pliable and soft as she kisses me. My hands rove down her body, feeling her curves, and then her heart as my hands stop above her breasts.

  She reaches down and tugs the hem of my shirt, and as reluctant as I am to stop feeling the beat that has become my life’s rhythm, I pull back to yank the shirt free and let it fall to the floor.

  She’s already released my jeans and
works to get those down as well, and I help her, before looking at her, waiting to recognize her expression before things continue. I place her hand on my chest, right beside my sister’s name. “Tell me you believe me.”

  “I love you,” she whispers before breaking into a smile. “I love you so much.”

  Those three words confirm she does. She believes me. Believes in me.

  I kiss her mouth, and then her cheeks, and her eyelids, and her jaw, tracing every line and contour of her face with my lips, savoring her as my hands grip her hair, directing her neck to the side so I can run my tongue along the soft skin to the edge of her dress and then up again, stopping below her chin. Ella’s lips part, and her breathing becomes a pant as my hand tightens in her hair and I pull her in the other direction so I can kiss that side of her neck too. She lifts her chin and her eyes close as she licks her lips, and I feel as though I could explode. With my other hand, I massage her breast while teasing the sensitive skin of her neck with my lips, sucking and nipping, kissing, then licking as my hand rubs her breast and moves to just her nipple through her dress.

  With her eyes still closed, Ella reaches beneath one arm and pulls the zipper down to her hip. I step back long enough to help her pull the dress off and then I set her back on the bed, allowing the fire that burns inside of her to warm me as I work my way down her body, taking my time as I taste every inch of her skin, relishing my name being said as a plea and then a moan until she can’t articulate words any longer.

  I move back up the bed, holding my weight on my hands so only our chests are grazing. Ella’s bottom lip is pressed against her front teeth, and her eyes are closed, her short hair mussed and splayed across one of the pillows surrounding us. I hover over her, kissing her chin, her jaw, and then biting her earlobe, making her chest rise and flatten firmly against mine, her breaths becoming labored once again.

  With one more swirl of my tongue under her jaw, I move over her and wait until she slowly opens her eyes. They’re bright with desire and need and something more that I now recognize as love, and when I guide myself into her, I know I will never be able to stop. I can’t. Somehow Ella has changed everything in my life, turning it upside down and somehow making it all right.

  We lie next to each other, our breaths and hearts once again slowed and even as I trace promises against her skin with my fingers, until she falls asleep.

  Knowing her routine, I know she has a few hours until Hayden is out of school, and having her trust me with so much feels insurmountable.

  While she rests, I look through some real estate sites, examining properties and houses, looking for things I hadn’t when I bought the house here. It makes me realize that when I’d sought out to buy a house with enough room for things like my pool table and a garage to fit my truck, I had been so naive and wrong. Those things are on the bottom of my list as I look for homes with multiple bedrooms, a yard to play catch in and let Shakespeare race around, a master bathroom with a tub for Ella to soak in, and a dining room large enough to fit a giant farm table so our families can visit for the holidays.

  One house turns into fifty and then I hear the change in Ella’s breathing and look down to see she’s watching me.

  Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, I hold her tighter. “What are you thinking?”

  “What did Patrick say?” Ella looks at me, and I can see the hope in her eyes.

  “Initially, he was angry.” Outraged might be a better word for it but Ella balks and I chuckle. “After a couple of hours,” filled with arguing, pleas, and finally threats from both sides, “he was slowly led to a different state. I don’t think it was a single statement that changed his mind. Or even the threat that I would fight him in court to be involved in Hayden’s life, I think he realized I was never going to stop. That I will always be a part of your lives, whether he was willing to accept it or not. I guess he recognized it would be a whole hell of a lot easier on everyone, including you and Hayden, if he would just accept me. Accept us.”

  “So that’s it? He’s okay with everything?”

  I nod. “But he said he won’t attend the wedding.”

  “The wedding?” Ella’s eyes slant with confusion. “Whose wedding?”

  “Ours.”

  She pulls her head back and her blue eyes stare at me, unblinking.

  “I told him that one day in the future, when I’ve shown you what trust and love really look like, when you know what it feels like to be loved and respected and cherished, I’m going to propose to you and that I’m going to work for it every single day to make sure you say yes.”

  Ella’s eyes soften and then close. Several seconds pass before she opens them again, wet with tears. And then she nods. “Yes,” she says. “I want that.”

  “And you’re going to have it.”

  I kiss her, pledging my vow, and then I roll on top of her again and make love to the woman who will always be my forever.

  Epilogue

  Ella

  With two filled glasses of lemonade, I head out the front door and through our opened gate into the backyard. Standing motionless so as to not attract his attention, I stare at Coen. He’s shirtless, and even with the loads of sunscreen I’ve been lathering on his shoulders, the rounded, pronounced muscles are a deep bronze. A large, rectangular pencil is tucked behind one ear, a measuring tape is clasped to his back pocket.

  At one time love seemed like a fairy tale. Something so grand and dazzling it could only be received in short, periodic doses. Now, I’m staring at the man who has shown me how to love someone so deeply and fully that I’m not considering how much I’ve given or received, because I’ve learned love isn’t a contest. Loving Coen has taught me love and respect are reciprocated and I don’t have to give everything and leave myself with nothing. He has taught me that trusting another person allows me to sleep easier, deeper, and longer. And by believing in me, he’s taught me one of the most valuable lessons—believing in myself.

  No longer does the internal struggle to be enough wake me in the early mornings. The nagging concern to be better doesn’t stare back at me in my reflection. Perfection is something I’ll never achieve, and loving Coen and being loved by Coen has taught me that’s okay. That life isn’t meant to be perfect because if it were, it would be boring, and dull, and we wouldn’t be able to recognize greatness without tragedy.

  I might never be able to look back and laugh at what happened between Patrick and me. However, I do know without a single doubt that it taught me to trust my gut and recognize how wonderful Coen is.

  “What are you doing?” A wide grin tugs his lips north as he saunters toward me, ending my thoughts.

  “I thought you might be thirsty.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me how great I am to have made you freshly squeezed lemonade?”

  Chuckling, he takes the glass. Sliding his free hand around my waist, he pulls me closer and takes a long pull from his drink. “Thanks, baby.” He runs the tip of his nose along my cheek, stopping where my chin and ear meet and kissing me there.

  “I can’t believe it’s nearly done.” Looking around the area we fenced in, it doesn’t seem like the same space we purchased six-months ago when ice and snow covered most of the open area, later revealing patches of weeds among vast areas of dirt. Coen adapted the vision he’d discussed at his old house, with added inspiration from new friends we’ve made in town to add rows of blueberries and raspberries, and fruit trees along the back, allowing plenty of space to lay grass for Hayden to play baseball and Shakespeare to roam freely, and an expansive deck.

  “Now to get the pergola set up, so we can get you some shade for this outdoor summer office of yours.”

  “I still can’t believe I get to work from home every day.” Sighing, I lean further into Coen.

  “It’s just a segue to you starting your own business.” Coen kisses my temple. The thought of becoming an e
ntrepreneur had never crossed my mind, but Coen planted that seed and over the past year it’s grown and flourished, and now I’m taking measures and steps to eventually go in that direction. I don’t need to be as big as Wild Waves, or any of our competitors, but to run and execute my work with fewer clients and deadlines is something I plan to strive for.

  Anxiety still taunts me at times.

  Knowing I won’t receive a constant paycheck makes me sweat.

  But life has taught me that it’s too short not to throw the occasional curveball.

  THE END

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  Acknowledgments

  For a long while, I thought this book was jinxed. Everything that could have gone wrong, somehow did. My husband listened to me fret over every single step and decision, and so many friends came to my aid with connections when I was a month out and no longer had an editor! I could not have done this without you all! Thank you!

  Hang Le, you never cease to amaze me. Thank you so much for once again creating a cover that is so gorgeous and unique. It’s artistic, sweet, sexy, and perfect. I still catch myself staring at it!

  Jennifer Van Wyck for coming to my rescue and editing this story. Also a special thanks to Cassie Cox and Devon Burke with Joy of Editing for doing the most dynamite jobs of proofreading!

  Jenna Chianello, my friend, my sanity, my indie sister from another mister. I love you. I adore you. And I really appreciate you. Everything you do you go in with your full heart, and I admire that so much! So much of this book was written with you in my heart and mind, so I hope you love it as much as I do!