by Paul, JL
“That’s pretty,” Jessica said.
“Morgan found it,” Bailey said as I turned my back on the pair of them and studied the different shoes and dyes.
“Oh,” Jessica said. I heard someone rummaging through the racks, figuring it was Jessica, ready to outdo my choice. I wasn’t wrong. “Irelyn, come look at this.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Jessica holding up a gown similar to mine except sleeveless with a plunging neckline.
“I don’t know,” Irelyn said, frowning.
“It’s more your style,” Jessica insisted. “Want me to try it on?”
“Sure,” Irelyn said as she handed me the gown I’d selected. “Morgan, why don’t you try this one on?”
Taking it from her hand, I followed Jessica to the changing rooms. Quickly, I shed my clothes and stepped into the gown. I took a second to admire it in the mirror, loving how it hugged my body.
“What do you think?” Jessica asked. I took that as my cue to exit and show Irelyn the gown I’d chosen.
“Hm,” Irelyn said. “I like them both.”
“How about color?” Jessica said, doing a little spin, allowing the material to billow.
“The clerk said I can select any color for any of the gowns,” Irelyn said. “They custom make all dresses.”
“The neckline is a little low on Jessica’s dress,” Bailey said.
“Morgan would like it,” Jessica said.
I rolled my eyes as I stood still, letting Irelyn get a good look.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Bailey said. “But if I wear something like that, I’m going to have a problem keeping the girls concealed. I’m sure Irelyn would be mortified if my boobs pop out during the ceremony.”
I laughed, earning a glare from Jessica that I ignored.
“Bailey’s right,” Irelyn said, sighing at the dress Jessica had selected. She turned to me with a smile. “I’ve been looking through magazines and online for weeks now and the dress Morgan is wearing is what I’ve been imagining.”
“Really?” Jessica asked.
Irelyn nodded, a smile bursting on her lips. “Yes. That’s the one.”
She turned toward the clerk, nodding. The clerk hurried forward with an electronic tablet, entering data. Next, she had us all go into a changing room so she could take our measurements. Once that was finished, each of us put a deposit down on the dress.
“I’m starving,” Irelyn said as we walked out of the shop. “Want to grab some food?”
Everyone agreed and we ended up two blocks away at a fast food chicken joint. When we sat down to eat, everyone began chattering at once, talking about the dresses and other wedding things.
“Who’s going to give you away?” I asked, wiping grease off my fingers with a napkin.
“I think my mom,” Irelyn said with a soft smile. “I thought about having Tommy but he’s so shy, he said he didn’t want to do it. Lucas asked him to be a groomsman instead.”
“That’s so sweet!” I said.
“You’ll be walking down the aisle with him,” Jessica said, ripping her chicken apart and popping it into his mouth. “Collin is best man and Bailey’s walking with him. I’m walking with Spencer, so that leaves you and Tommy.”
Irelyn bit her lip as she shot me a worried look but I patted her hand. “I love Tommy. I don’t have a problem whatsoever walking with him.”
“Good, I’m glad,” Irelyn said. “He loves you and Bailey. He remembers that time that you two stayed at my house and we went to the country club for dinner. He remembers both of you dancing with him.”
“Aw,” I said. “How’s his piano going?”
“Great,” Irelyn said. “He loves it.”
We talked about wedding plans until we finished eating and parted ways. As I drove home, I realized, even more, that Evan had indeed been right. No one had said a thing about Evan’s comments – just Jessica’s little suggestion about me wearing a cleavage-baring dress. Once I got to Beans, I sent him a short text, telling him I was sorry. I’d wait until later to call and explain.
Work was slow even though it was it cold and the beginning of the shopping season. Dante had been fairly busy and I’d thought that it would spill over into my shift. Unfortunately I was wrong. I was doomed to spend a slow evening alternating between staring out the window and staring at a text book.
Evan’s lack of response to my text weighed heavily on my mind and I wondered if I’d waited too late. Maybe he’d accept my phone call once my shift ended. Maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, I had to try.
As I was preparing to close, the door opened and a familiar figure sauntered to the counter.
“What are you apologizing for?” he asked.
Shrugging, I dropped the rag and bottle of cleaner on the counter. “I guess I overreacted.”
“Nah,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “I probably shouldn’t have said those things.”
“Well, you were right about Bailey and Irelyn. They didn’t say anything about it. I mean, Irelyn didn’t. Bailey said something, but she laughed about it. That’s what made me realize how stupid I’d acted.”
“Morgan, we’re just getting to know each other. These things happen. You’ll figure out my sick sense of humor with time just as I’ll get to know all your little quirks.”
I blinked. “Quirks?”
“Yeah,” he said, resting a hip against the counter. “You have several – didn’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t aware that I had any quirks.”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “I can name a few.”
“Please.”
“Well, there’s the way you study all the time,” he began.
“That’s not a quirk,” I pointed out. “That’s necessity. I’d like to pass my courses and earn my degree.”
“There’s your obsessive need to be organized,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “And your impeccable fashion sense.”
“Hold on,” I said, raising a hand. “These aren’t quirks – they’re personality traits.”
Tugging his hands out of his pockets, he planted his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his fists. “Those things are quirky to me.”
“You are …,” I began, shaking my heads as words escaped me.
“I’m what?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Cute? Charming? Irresistible?”
I barked out a short laugh. “I wasn’t thinking along those lines.”
“Sexy? Hot? Yummy?”
“I’m going to be ill,” I said as I picked up the rag and bottle and proceeded to clean the counter. “Violently ill.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Morgan,” he chuckled. “But you’re the one who begged me to come back. You couldn’t stand the thought that we might be over.”
I stopped, rag hanging from my fingers. “I did what?”
“You’re the one who texted me,” he said, maddening smile on his lips.
“I texted you once,” I said, free hand on hip. “You texted and called me several times.”
He moved down the counter, leaning over to whisper to me. “It was a test.”
“A test?”
“Yep,” he nodded. “And you passed.”
“I’m thrilled,” I said as I resumed my cleaning. Once I finished the counter, I began to dismantle some of the equipment to soak in the sink. “I didn’t even study.”
“That means that you’re a genius,” he said. “You’re a scholar.”
“Oh, boy.”
“You’re an expert on Evan.”
“That’ll look great on my resume.”
He laughed, loudly, at that. He scooted down the counter to the end. “How long will it take you to finish?”
“Not long,” I said, scrubbing the parts in the sink. After rinsing them, I left them on a towel to dry. The opening person was responsible for putting it back together – thankfully.
“Good,” he said as he leafed through the day’s paper that someone had left behind. “We h
ave plans.”
“Plans?” I asked, only half-listening.
“Yep. We’re going out.”
“You do realize that it’s sort of late, right?” I reminded him. “And I have class tomorrow?”
“So,” he said. “We aren’t going out on a full date. This is a little date.”
“I don’t even want to know,” I said as I finished the front end cleaning. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving him alone, I went into the back to double check that everything was done. Every area was stocked and all the surfaces clean. I consulted the laminated check list on the wall (even though I knew it by heart) and made sure that I’d completed each task. Only then did I remove my apron and hang it on a hook, collecting my purse and coat from my cubby. Returning to the front, I walked around the counter and stood in front of Evan.
“Finished. Let’s get this little date over with – I have to get up early.”
“Excellent,” he said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door, pausing long enough for me to lock it and set the alarm.
He had the junky truck again and opened the passenger door for me. I climbed inside, not so bothered by the filth this time, and waited for him to get in and crank the heat.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“For coffee,” he said as he started the engine.
I opened my mouth to remind him that we’d just left a coffee shop, but decided against it. It was no use, anyway. The tiny smile curling his lips led me to believe that he was very much aware of my thoughts.
He took me to a grimy diner on the other side of town. The place was pretty much deserted except for a few coeds drinking coffee while reading articles on their tablets.
We slid into the booth, ordered coffee and pie, and then stared at each other while we waited.
“The coffee isn’t the greatest, but the pie is good,” he said as the waitress headed our way. Setting our pie in front of us, she filled our coffee cups and departed, leaving us to converse.
“So, thanks for apologizing to me,” he said as he cut a chunk off of his pie with the side of his fork. “But, like I said earlier, it wasn’t necessary. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Waving my fork in the air, I forced a smile. “We said what we had to say at Beans – let’s just let it go, okay?”
“Sure, whatever you say,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry I messed up.”
“Why don’t you tell me about your Thanksgiving?” I suggested.
“It was boring,” he said. “Food and football. And lots of beer. My aunt and uncle were there and just a few friends.”
“No other family?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said. “There is no other family. Susie’s folks passed a long time ago. She has a sister she doesn’t talk to much in Washington, but that’s it. My uncle was an only child and his parents are gone, too.”
Nodding, it took me a few minutes to realize what he’d said. “Your uncle is an only child?”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes trained on mine. “That’s right.”
“So, you’re blood related to your aunt?” I asked.
He shook his head, no trace of a smile or amusement anywhere on his face.
“I’m confused,” I said, slowly. “How are they your aunt and uncle then?”
He finished his pie, took a sip of his coffee, and then sat back on his side of the booth. “Let’s go back to my place and have a beer. Want to?”
Not sure what I was agreeing to, I signaled to the waitress for our check.
Chapter Twelve
The heat in the old truck barely worked. Although Evan had it on high, the air chugged and gurgled as it blew lukewarm from the vents. I folded into my coat, my gloved hands buried in my pockets and my face hidden by my scarf. Evan, however, didn’t seem bothered by the cold as he drove with only a leather jacket.
“Don’t you have an apartment over the garage?” I said through my scarf.
“I do have a place over the garage,” he said as he turned left, heading for the outskirts of town.
“Wait, you’re going the wrong way,” I said. “The garage is downtown.”
“I meant the garage at my aunt and uncle’s place. I moved. We’ve been working on this apartment for a while now and finally finished over the weekend.”
Burrowing further into my jacket, I watched the road as he drove, wondering how far out he lived. That wasn’t the only thing going through my head, though. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what he’d just said at the diner. How could they could be his aunt and uncle … was the sister in Washington his mother? Maybe his father was an ex-husband of the sister in Washington or something. Whatever it was, I hoped he’d explain it all to me once we were warmly settled in his apartment.
He finally pulled into a long drive lined with barren trees. The house was dark – only one light in a living room window – and it loomed before us. It was a two story – or maybe a Cape Cod – with an attached garage. Above the garage was an apartment with a large window facing the drive.
He parked off to the side of the garage and killed the engine. I gratefully climbed out of the truck and waited for him to show me to a set of stairs similar to the one that led to my own apartment.
“It’s small and probably messy,” he said as he unlocked the door and flipped a switch. “I’m not totally organized yet.”
It was small – a studio-type place – with a kitchenette, living room, and bath.
“The sofa pulls out,” he explained as he turned on a table lamp and indicated that I should sit. “It’s far more comfortable than you would think.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said.
In the corner was a wobbly stand holding a large, flat screen, tangled cords and a video gaming system on the bottom shelf. The kitchenette had no table, just a stove, fridge, microwave and sink. There were only four cabinets but it didn’t look like he used the area much.
“It’s cozy,” I said, my eyes falling to the empty beer bottles on the chipped coffee table.
“It’s okay for now,” he said.
“Where did you live before?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I was in Chicago for a while until my uncle called me, asking if I’d come back to work in the garage. He was in need of help and couldn’t find a qualified mechanic. I came back.”
“Okay, explain to me how he is your uncle,” I said as I unwrapped my scarf and removed my coat. “I’m so confused.”
“Yeah, I imagine you are,” he said as he opened the refrigerator and removed two bottles of beer. He opened them, tossing both caps into the overflowing trash can, and brought them to the sofa, handing one to me before sitting down. “They’re not my blood relatives.”
Nodding, I sipped the beer. I wasn’t much of a beer drinker but this brand wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just eager to hear the story and didn’t much care what it tasted like.
“My mom was an addict and a dealer. She ran around with a wild crowd and got mixed up in a prostitute’s death. She didn’t kill her – but she was there. The details aren’t exactly clear. Anyway, she went to prison when I was a kid,” he said. “I never knew my dad – don’t even know if my mom knew who he was. I didn’t have any family that anyone could find so I was taken to a children’s home.”
My eyes grew but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to distract him from his story.
“I was in and out of foster homes for a long time,” he continued. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Some of them were better than others, of course, but I was never abused or anything.”
He lifted his beer to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a long drink.
“Susan and Greg took me in when I was ten. They were living in Chicago at the time, but when I turned thirteen, we moved here when Greg bought the garage off of an old family friend.”
“You’ve been with them for a long time,” I said, my voice slightly scratchy from not being used.
Many questions swirled in my mind but I only managed to pluck out two. “Why do you call them aunt and uncle? Why didn’t they adopt you?”
“We talked about adoption a few times,” he said with a wistful smile. “I was still a kid and naïve as hell. I loved them, don’t get me wrong, but I kept thinking that my mom wouldn’t be able to find me when she got out if I was adopted. My dad, either, even though he probably didn’t even know I existed.”
“But, you didn’t know your dad,” I said.
“No, never. I didn’t even know his name,” he said. “But, like I said, I was a kid. I was just a little boy. For as long as I could remember, I fantasized about my dad, imagining him strolling into my life, ready to play catch or teach me about football.”
I smiled at that image while inside, my heart was breaking.
“It never happened, of course, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming about it,” he said. “So, when Susan and Greg asked me if I’d like to be adopted, I told them how I felt. It wasn’t just about my parents not being able to find me – it had a little to do with not wanting to betray my mother. She’d never been great parenting material, but I loved her desperately. Greg and Susan knew that. Not once did they ever discourage me. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it worked for us. That’s when Susan suggested that I call them Aunt and Uncle. I liked that. It felt like a real family and I was able to hang on to the dreams of my parents. As I grew older, I gave up on all of that and sort of ‘adopted’ Susan and Greg as my real family.”
I inched closer and he dropped his arm around my shoulders. “That’s a nice story.”
He snorted. “It’s sort of pathetic, don’t you think?”
I looked into his beautiful dark eyes. “Not at all.”
His eyes remained on mine as he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. My lids fluttered shut as he increased pressure, his tongue prying my lips open. Gasping, I clenched his shirt in my fist, wanting him closer. He obliged as his kisses heated up and my heart tumbled around my stomach.
