After we’ve all devoured our lasagna, Bella walks over to our table. I guess I was lucky to have avoided her all night.
Standing to my side, she places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Melanie? I thought that was you. Bellisima.” She leans down and kisses my cheek. “You look beautiful. How are you?” Bella rambles on while Mom and Evan smile kindly at her.
I cup my hand over hers at my shoulder. “Mom, Evan, this is Bella, the owner.” The both shake her hand as they tell her how wonderful everything was.
“Oh, thank you, thank you. We’ve been a little short staffed, so I’m sorry if you had to wait.” Bella’s hands twist nervously at the thought that her service was sub-par.
“No, everything was wonderful. It’s a beautiful restaurant.” Bella’s face shines with pride at Evan’s compliment.
“Perfect. Well, dessert is on me tonight. It’ll be right out.” Bella then leans down to whisper in my ear. “Don’t leave without coming to see Bella, okay?” I pat her hand gently and nod in agreement. I have a feeling that I know what she wants to talk about, but I can’t tell her no.
As Bella walks away, Mom excuses herself to go to the ladies room. Evan starts nervously fidgeting with his hands. Clearing his throat, he pitches his voice low as he speaks. “Melanie, I need to talk to you.”
I lean forward so that I can hear him better. “Sure, what’s up?” When he doesn’t say anything immediately, as if he’s trying to figure out exactly what to say, I start to piece things together. I gasp and cover my mouth. “Are you . . . ?” My question trails off as Evan shushes me. I didn’t realize I was being that loud, but when the couple at the next table peers over at us, I check my excitement and pipe down.
“Shhh. No. Not that.” His face twists in discomfort. Evan’s a big sweetie, but he’s definitely a man’s man through and through. I decide to cut him some slack and just sit intently and listen to him. “I know your mom and I haven’t been together too long, but, well . . . I . . . I really like her.”
That last line makes me choke on my water. “Not for nothing, Evan, but I doubt we’d be having such a hushed conversation if you just ‘liked’ Mom. Besides, you guys aren’t sixteen.” I raise an eyebrow at him. So much for cutting him some slack.
He sighs and leans across the small table. “Okay, fine. You win. I love her.” His words are confident and proud, not at all shy or ashamed.
I make a “carry on” gesture. I knew he loved her; I just wanted to hear him say it.
“Anyway, I was thinking of asking her to move in with me.”
“But . . .” I drag out the word, hoping that he’ll fill in the blank. He better spit it out before Mom comes back.
“Well, I wanted to check that it was okay with you before I asked her. My place is tiny and I know how much your mom loves your house. I don’t want to talk about moving in there with her before I know that it would be alright with you.” He grabs for my hand and, as he gently squeezes it, a tear trickles down my cheek.
Swiping it away quickly, I catch Mom walking toward the table. “I think it would be amazing for you two to move in. As long as Mom wants it, then I want it. And my answer to the question I thought you were going to answer is yes too, just so you know.” I wink at him as Mom slips into her chair. Evan becomes awkwardly silent and it doesn’t take Mom long to pick up on it.
“What were you two chatting about?” She points between Evan and me and gives us “The Look.”
Evan looks like he’s about to choke on his tongue so I cover for him. “Evan was just going over some things about the car.”
Picking up on my little, white lie, Evan adds, “Yeah, I noticed that the gear shift sticks sometimes.” He takes a sip of his water and even though he doesn’t say anything, his eyes tell me “thank you.”
After we finish our dessert and take care of the bill, Bella pulls me to the side. Mom and Evan walk back to the house; it’s only right across the street. I let them know that I shouldn’t be long.
“I need another waitress,” Bella says bluntly.
Wow, that wasn’t what I was expecting.
“Oh, Bella. I don’t know if I can. It’s just that . . .” She shushes me and waves her hands in front of us, literally trying to clear the air.
“I know what you’re thinking. But Bryan doesn’t come here anymore. He’s too busy with grad school—at least that’s what he said. He moved closer to Cornell and got his own place and everything. He set me up with one of his friends about a month ago and now he does all of the computer stuff.” As Bella is explaining this, I have to admit that I do recall seeing someone who looked an awful lot like Simon from the computer lab walking out of here the other day.
And did she just say a month ago? So he left Bella high and dry just because I live across the street now. I feel bad for Bella. Bryan was so much more than a tech guy for her. She genuinely liked him. My heart softens for this kind grandma-like woman standing before me.
Without much thought, I tell her yes. “But I have a job at a camp during the week until the end of the summer. I can only do weekends.” We’re momentarily distracted by a waitress walking past us. The over-loaded tray that she’s carrying wobbles precariously on her shoulder before it crashes to the floor.
“Oh dear!” Bella calls out as she grabs the broom and some dishtowels to clean up the mess. Of course I help her and the waitress apologizes profusely for screwing up. Bella tells her that it’s okay, and instructs her to go place another order.
Over a pile of spilled ravioli, Bella clasps my sauce-covered hands and says, “Thank you!”
Before I leave, we figure out a few details of when I’ll start. She reassures me a few more times that Bryan won’t be around. I’m surprised and a little hurt that he talked to her about us. But, I guess it’s for the best. We’re not together, and as much as I might be hoping for that to happen again, I’m not so sure that it will.
The next night, I anxiously wait for Bryan to call.
But he never does.
I kind of feel like a fool for thinking that he would call. I ghost my fingers over my cheek and wonder if I’ll ever get to experience his touch again. He’s moved on; I know it. I hate it, but I know it.
Rather than dwell on it though, I spend the night with the girls and Mom watching a few movies. Evan goes to bed early, though I don’t think he is all that tired. There’s no spare room so I’ve let Mom and Evan take my room while I camp out on the couch. He must be watching a baseball game or something because every now and then we hear him yelling at the television.
I’m sad to see them go on Sunday morning, but at the same time, I know that very happy things are on the horizon for everyone. Mom and I solidified plans for Maddy’s baby shower at the end of the month and we’ve also made plans to go wedding dress shopping for Maddy when I come home in August. And hopefully, helping Evan move will be part of my future too.
Waving at Evan’s car as it pulls out onto the main road, my heart feels happy. Despite Bryan blowing me off, I know that I have people who love me. And it’s weird how since I’ve let them love me, I’ve been able to love myself too.
I don’t want to be mad at Bryan for not calling. He doesn’t really owe me anything, but later that night, as I’m getting my things ready for camp in the morning, I realize that we do owe it to Emmie. I don’t want her to keep thinking that we’re together. That’s not fair to her.
Going out on a limb, I hope that he still has the same number. I never deleted his contact information. Somehow, that seemed too permanent.
I dial and nervously wait for him to pick up.
He doesn’t.
I understand that he’s hurt, but if he would just give me a chance to explain. Who knows that he would even believe me about Tyler? But the fact of the matter is, that he at least deserves to know and I deserve . . .
Nothing, really.
But I do need to tell him and I want to talk to him about Emmie.
I try him once more, b
ut again, he doesn’t pick up. A deep breath and a punch to the pillow later, I’ve calmed myself down a bit. I decide that I just need to give him some space. He probably never expected to see me again; I know I didn’t expect to see him.
As I’m finishing getting my things in order for the morning, part of the perfectionism that will never leave I guess, Peyton comes into my room.
She’s leaning up against the door frame, smiling like an idiot. “Why are you so cheery? That’s very unlike you.” I stick my tongue out at her as she feigns a sarcastic laugh.
“I just came to tell you that you have a visitor.” She smirks again as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Who the hell would be visiting me at,” I glance over at the glowing red numbers of my alarm clock, “ten on a Sunday night?”
There’s that silly smirk again. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to find out.” And with that she walks out of my room.
Pulling back the curtain on the front window, I take a look at the front porch to see who’s paying me a visit. When I see Bryan not-so-calmly pacing back and forth, one hand in his pocket, the other combing through his hair, the air is sucked out of my lungs.
I take a deep, calming breath, but it does nothing to ease my racing heart.
I open the door and step out into the humid summer air. Bryan stops his pacing and just stares at me with a lost look on his face.
Softly clicking the door behind me, I suddenly can’t find any words.
“Sorry for coming by so late.” He rakes his hands through his hair again and then folds them behind his head.
“It’s okay.” I motion to the front step and we take a seat. Perched on opposite sides of a somewhat wide step, we both gaze out into the night sky. As I get lost in the blackness that is speckled with thousands of points of light, the lines of Grace Potter & The Nocturnals’ “Stars” play through my head.
After a few beats of silence, we both say “So.” at the same time. “You go first.” I concede, mostly because I want to hear why he came here.
Propping his elbow up on his bent knee, he turns to face me. “I didn’t expect to see you . . . at the camp, I mean. Or living across from Bella’s, for that matter.”
“You can imagine how surprised I was to see Emmie, then. How come she’s here, Bryan?” His leg starts bouncing wildly at my question. Even though I’m shaking, I reach over and place my hand on his knee. When he calms down, I remove my hand, though it’s the last thing I want to do.
“It’s my parents. The divorce is a fucking shit storm.” He stares up into the night sky and with an unsteady voice, he continues. “My mom is not dealing well at all.” He pauses and sighs loudly. “She got really depressed and she started drinking.” After another brief pause, he adds, “A lot—a-whole-fucking-lot actually. It got so bad that my dad was going to file for sole custody for Emmie. The asshole who walked out on us actually wanted to take Emmie away.” An angry, flippant snarl escapes his mouth.
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I just give him some room to breathe and think.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and looks over at me. “By some stroke of luck, the judge decided that he would give my mom one last chance if she went to rehab and got herself cleaned up. I drove down there to get her this past weekend.” He sighs loudly trying to gain his composure. “So while she’s away, Emmie is living with me. Hopefully it’s just for the summer.”
“Bryan, I’m so . . .”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want anyone’s pity.” His harsh words cut through me worse than any knife would.
Twisting my fingers together nervously, I recover my thoughts and try for something a bit more hopeful. “Emmie seems to be doing well, though. I mean she was really happy at camp.” I offer up a smile, but it goes unnoticed. “Where is she now?”
“She’s asleep. My neighbor is watching her,” he answers tersely. After a deep breath, he adds, “She’s doing better now that she’s not at home. But then seeing you . . .” The pained look on his face breaks my heart.
I want to believe that it’s not his intention to hurt me, but that belief is fading—quickly. “That’s why I tried to call. I just wanted to see what you told Emmie so that I don’t say anything to upset her.”
With his penetrating stare searing through my soul, I feel vulnerable, but for the first time in a long time, I feel alive. I feel renewed, like maybe there’s a chance that he’s seeing this new Melanie. Maybe he’s seeing how different I am. He always saw the version of me that I wanted to see myself as, so maybe, just maybe, he’s seeing the new me. But, when he looks away, I lose hope in that theory.
“I told her that we’re just friends now. She asked if we were divorced like Mom and Dad.” Well, damn. There goes that hope. I want to ask if he meant what he said when he told me that he missed me. I want to wrap my arms around him and take away his pain. I want to curl up against his side and fall asleep in his arms.
But this isn’t about what I want.
“So if she asks about us, just tell her that we’re friends. And if she says anything about my parents, tell her that they are trying to be friends too. She understands that. It’ll just make it easier on her.” His voice is resolved and guarded.
“I can do that. I do want to be friends, Bryan. I know I hurt you, but . . .”
He cuts me off again. “I don’t know if I can be just friends with you.”
Does that mean he wants to be more?
In a moment of bravery, I decide to share my feelings. Twisting toward him and grabbing his hand, he shoots me a shocked look at the contact. “Look, Bryan. I don’t want to be friends. I meant what I said on Friday when I told you that I miss you. I want to be like we used to be . . . no, wait . . . what I mean is that I want to be more than we used to. I’m different, now. I never . . .”
Just as the words “I never cheated.” are on the tip of my tongue, he stands abruptly and bellows a frustrated scream out into the darkness.
He turns toward me once more, his voice a smidge lower than a yell. “I loved you! I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And it meant nothing to you. We meant nothing to you.” On a growl, he turns away from me once again and stares up at the twinkling stars. “Fuck, Melanie. I needed you. These last few months . . .” His words get stuck behind the emotion he’s working so hard to stifle.
Unable to see him in this much anguish any longer, I stand next to him, but don’t touch him. “I can be here for you now. If you’ll let me, I can be your friend and then maybe . . .”
The rest of my sentence is swallowed whole by his kiss. His lips are on mine hot and fast. With one hand tangling in my hair, and another gripping hard at my waist, he pulls our bodies together. The feel of his hard muscles pressed up against my soft curves is more than perfect, more than heavenly. It’s a hard and passionate kiss, one that is sure to leave my lips swollen. His tongue licks and dips into the corners of my mouth, tasting me—no, devouring me. I inhale his sweet cinnamon breath—breathe it into my lungs, make it part of my existence.
Sucking hard on my lower lip, he pulls it into his mouth. He absorbs the groan of pleasure that I make when he bites on my captured lip. My arms wrap around his neck and tangle into his soft hair. Just as I’m about to pull him closer to me, he pulls away, leaving me breathless.
With our foreheads pressed together, he whispers, “Maybe what, Melanie?”
“Maybe we could . . .” I get distracted by his nose running up the length of mine.
“Yeah, maybe,” he states calmly with a hooded and lustful look on his face.
And then he walks away from me, confidently strutting toward his car—leaving me speechless, hopeful and completely confused at the same time.
Since I don’t have to walk to camp anymore, I can sleep in another thirty minutes. Which of course means that I oversleep. Jumping from bed, I call Will right away and let him know that I’ll be a few minutes late. He laughs at my harried and fra
ntic voice, but tells me that it’s okay.
“Do you want me to come pick you up?” I’m sure that his offer has more to do with getting to talk to me alone than it does with getting me to work quickly.
“No, it’s okay really. My mom bought me a car this weekend. I’ll be there in like ten minutes.” I hang up quickly and thank the OCD lords that I’ve laid out my clothes and packed my lunch the night before.
I would have liked to get to camp early today too. I never got the chance to tell Bryan about Tyler and what did not happen between us. Oh well, I’ll just have to tell him today when he picks up Emmie.
I pull into the parking lot and race over to the arts and crafts room. The kids start out every Monday morning drawing pictures of what they did over the weekend. I find Emmie immediately and when I catch a glimpse of her picture, I am blown away.
“Wow, Emmie! Did you draw that?” I lean over her shoulder and instantly recognize what she’s drawn. It’s a picture of the gorge that Bryan and I went hiking through on our first date. I’ll never forget the beauty of that place for as long as I live.
“I did,” she says proudly. Emmie smiles at me and it’s as beautiful as the stars I saw in the sky last night. “Bryan took me there this weekend.” Emmie returns her attention to her picture where she carefully writes a title in bold capital letters across the top. “Happy Times Waterfall.” She then adds “To: Melanie” at the top and “Love: Emmie” at the bottom before handing me her work of art.
“Thank you so much, sweetie. Are you sure I can have it?” Emmie nods excitedly, and I know that not accepting it is not an option. Holding it before me, I examine it once more; it really is a beautiful drawing. I can tell that art is her thing. “That’s a really cute title, Emmie. How’d you come up with that?”
“That’s what it’s called, silly,” she quips with as much sarcasm as any thirteen-year-old girl is supposed to have.
I poke her in the arm. “No, silly. It’s called Hemlock Gorge.”
“You can call it whatever you want. But when I asked Bryan, he said something about happy times. I like Happy Times better than Hemlock or whatever you called it.”
The Love Series Complete Box Set Page 69
