Because of the List

by Amy Knupp

  “What the hell are you doing?” Marshall yelled as he lunged for Alex.

  Alex held him off, but as he turned to drop the neck of the bottle into the sink, Marshall landed an off-center punch on the side of his jaw. Alex shoved him away, sending Marshall, who was short on balance anyway, into the counter on the opposite side of the room.

  Alex ran down the basement stairs to Marshall’s bachelor cave. The stench, like that of a filthy bar, was so strong his eyes watered. Dirty dishes and take-out trash littered the living area, along with countless empty bottles and piles of wrinkled clothing.

  He searched for any full bottles as Marshall thundered unevenly down the stairs after him. A single one stood on the end table, lid still sealed. Alex winged it with all his strength against the concrete wall six feet away as Marshall hit the foot of the stairs and rounded the corner toward him. The crash of glass shattering was minutely satisfying.

  “You’ve lost your damn mind!” Marshall went for him again.

  Alex easily sidestepped him and shoved him onto the disgusting couch. “You have to quit drinking, man! You’re going to kill yourself. Or someone else. Where the hell are your car keys?”

  Marshall got up for another round as Alex searched the clutter. Then he remembered Marshall’s idiotic habit of leaving the keys in the ignition. He took off up the stairs to check for them, his brother railing at him the entire way, lumbering more slowly behind him. Alex rushed out the door into the garage, opened the Acura and, sure enough, there were the keys. He yanked them out just as Marshall burst out the door and down the two wooden steps toward him.

  “You can have them when you’re sober,” Alex said, slipping them into his front pocket.

  Marshall leapt at Alex, a wild look in his red eyes. He thrust all his weight on him, knocking Alex into the side of the car.

  “I don’t know who the hell you think you are!” Marshall yelled, catching him with a punch near his eye.

  Alex easily managed to throw his smaller brother off him again, landing him on the hard garage floor. That didn’t faze Marshall. He moved faster than Alex would’ve thought possible and came up swinging. Alex clocked him under the nose and Marshall grabbed his face, stumbling to the other side of the garage. He leaned against the wall and the air was filled with the sounds of both of them gasping for breath.

  Marshall took his hand away from his nose. Blood poured down his face and over his hand. He called Alex a crude name. “That McCabe girl makes you crazy or something.”

  “That was all caused by you,” Alex said in a deceptively calm voice. “Taylor had nothing to do with it.”

  “You need to stay the hell away from her.”

  “You get your damn life together, man. Until then, I’m not listening to a thing you have to say.”

  Alex strode past him, refusing to entertain the idea that his brother might have a valid point.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  SATURDAY EVENING WAS PERFECT for a romantic dinner cruise on the lake. Not a cloud in the sky, enough heat left over from the day that the cooler air on the water was refreshing. Boat traffic had dwindled as sunset approached.

  A jazz quartet filled the air with soothing music from the deck as a formally dressed waiter made his way around the enclosed lower level of the boat taking after-dinner drink orders. Taylor scooped the last bite of the richest, densest chocolate cake she’d ever tasted into her mouth.

  Her date, Brian Paulsen, ordered each of them another glass of wine, then continued their friendly debate on the impact of cruises such as this on the lake and its environment.

  Over the past two hours, since their date had begun, conversation had been ongoing, intelligent, provocative. Taylor hadn’t been forced to dip into her reserve list of fill-the-awkward-silence topics once. Which was a relief. If anything, Brian talked too much. However, she could overlook that minor point in exchange for the security that this man did not play more than the occasional computer game, and he hadn’t been seriously involved with anyone for almost a year.

  As he’d humbly admitted that his dating life had been almost nonexistent of late, Taylor had smiled and nodded. She ignored the fleeting voice in her head—the one that sounded a lot like Alex—cautioning her to beware of a man who willingly admitted to having trouble getting a date. Until recently, she’d been in the same position, she reasoned.

  Brian was a list guy, through and through. The chief operations officer at a national not-for-profit organization based here in Madison, he was driven and successful. She’d met him at a Chamber of Commerce happy-hour mixer she’d taken Vienna to early in the week—he’d nervously approached her during an uncomfortable moment when Vienna had been off introducing herself to someone in the public relations department of the city’s baseball team, leaving Taylor by herself and feeling conspicuous.

  After more than a half hour of the two of them sticking together in an unspoken alliance that saved them from having to mingle, Taylor had done something she’d never done before. Something she never would have believed she could do just months ago—she’d suggested they should go out sometime. Brian had enthusiastically agreed, and he’d called her the next day with the invitation to tonight’s cruise.

  As the waiter returned with their wine and began clearing the small table, she allowed herself to really observe the man sitting across from her. He was telling her a story from his childhood about his aunt and a boat she’d owned. Taylor was only half listening, absorbed as she was in her post-dinner assessment of her date.

  He wore a jacket and tie, appropriate for this particular cruise, and she noted how precisely his tie was knotted, how it rested, perfectly straight, on the pin-striped dress shirt. An image of Alex after the wedding two weeks ago crowded into her head. She couldn’t help remembering how he’d thrown his tie aside, rolled his sleeves up. How comfortable in his skin he’d looked. Dripping with blatant sex appeal.

  But what kind of man did she want to spend her life with? The tie-thrown-on-the-counter type or the tie-in-perfect-position type?

  And then there was the small matter that the choice wasn’t hers to make. This was her very first date with Brian, so who knew where they would end up? And she wasn’t any more Alex’s type than he was hers.

  She realized Brian was looking at her expectantly and gathered he’d asked her a question. Lord, she hadn’t heard a thing he’d said for the past few minutes.

  “I’m sorry, the wine must be getting to me.” She felt her cheeks flushing. “I missed what you asked.”

  “No big deal. Shall we see about seats on the deck by the musicians?”

  Relieved that he didn’t make an issue of her inattention, she nodded and stood along with him. He grabbed her nearly full wineglass and held it out to her and, for an instant, she wondered if his plan was to get her tipsy, to lower her guard. Admittedly, the thought had no basis. He was just being polite.

  Polite was on the list.

  As she took the glass from him, she had a flash of Alex handing her a juice glass of merlot before her first date with…

  None of that bore thinking of right now, when she was with a man who was so…ideal for her.

  Brian led her through the doorway to the front deck. It was more crowded out here, but he managed to score them two stools at the narrow counter along the wall separating the deck from the dinner area. He sat on the one closest to the water and she settled next to him. Though he partially blocked it, she still caught the breeze coming off the water and shivered. Her sleeveless dress left her arms exposed, and now that the sun was falling fast toward the horizon, she wished she’d brought a wrap.

  Brian rested his warm hand on her arm, which helped marginally. As they listened to the relaxing music, she studied his hand. It was white-collar all the way, nails neatly manicured, wisps of light hair on each thin finger. Gentle strength. Reassuring in a way. Unlike, say, Alex’s hands, which were rough and calloused. Brimming with raw masculinity that could make her squirm.

  Wh
at was wrong with her?

  This was not the time to be thinking of Alex. It was just that she was more comfortable around him than Brian simply because she knew him better. It’d only taken seventeen years or so for her to relax with Alex.

  Brian bent close and commented on the music, his warm breath brushing her cheek. Taylor glanced up at him and caught his gaze. He smiled down at her. He had a nice smile. He was a nice, considerate man.

  For someone who was supposedly so smart, she was acting like quite the idiot. Brian Paulsen was a list man. So far, he hit every last one of her requirements. She leaned into him and vowed to banish Alex from her mind for the rest of the night.

  SUNDAYS WERE THE WORST. They had been ever since Quinn’s death. Well, before that, too, Taylor supposed. It didn’t really make sense that losing Quinn had made the day lonelier—he’d been seven thousand miles away for years before the accident. But…it was the knowing, she guessed. Knowing she was totally alone, with no family, no real friends.

  Now she was lucky to count Vienna as a friend, and she almost had what one might consider a social life. Half of one, at the very least. And yet Sundays still found her restless and lonely.

  She wandered down the hallway, the closed bathroom door making her wonder why Alex hadn’t shown up today to finish the floor. Confident he’d eventually do it, she moved on, went from room to room, looking for a cleaning project or something she’d missed in her preparation to call a Realtor. She was nothing if not thorough, though. Quinn would have a field day if he could see her now. She smiled sadly as Lorien followed her into her office and wove around her legs.

  “You’ve been fed, beast,” she said. “Which means you want love.”

  Didn’t they all?

  She picked up the cat and cuddled her close. The sound and vibration of either of her pets’ purring was normally a source of comfort, but today nothing seemed to alleviate her discontent.

  She carried Lorien to the kitchen, calling Elanor as she went and nearly getting trampled by the second cat. Once in the kitchen, she set the blue point on the floor and served up gourmet kitty treats, as they knew she would. While the two cats buried their faces in the mini piles, Taylor walked out, headed for the front door without a destination in mind. The house was closing in on her.

  She grabbed her keys on the way and felt in her jeans pocket for her cell phone out of habit. Pulling the locked door shut behind her, she breathed in fresh air and felt marginally better. She had a long way to go to anything resembling contentment.

  She ignored the nagging thought that it went beyond the day of the week.

  Mr. Petrowski, her elderly neighbor across the street, was out in his front yard digging up dandelions one by one. He slowly straightened when her door closed, waved at her. Taylor waved back, conscious of her lack of purpose. She’d stormed outside and…what? Where was she going?

  The park. She walked to the end of the driveway, noticing the weeds that had popped up in the pavement cracks. She took out her phone and started a fresh list of outdoor chores. She’d add to it later. As she took a right turn on the sidewalk, her phone vibrated in her hand, startling her. She rarely got texts on the weekends when she didn’t have to keep in contact with her colleagues.

  Last night was perfect. Thank you.

  Brian.

  She smiled. Maybe her grin was a little thin, but she was tired. They’d been out until close to eleven, taking a drive and talking once the dinner cruise had ended.

  He was a good guy.

  Having to remind herself of that repeatedly signified a problem.

  Taylor stuck her phone back in her pocket as she turned in to the park and went for the swings. She’d think of a reply later. Maybe flying would help her state of mind.

  Pumping her legs back and forth, she gained height. Got that funny feeling in her belly at the top of each swing. It wasn’t nearly as much fun without a friend, though, and she let herself gradually decelerate until the swing lost all momentum.

  Laughter and shouts of children drew her attention to the playground on the other side of the park. Two boys, maybe ten or eleven years old, played rowdily on the teeter-totter. She could tell from here they’d made a battle of it, each of them seeing who could land hard enough on the ground to make the other go airborne. With each bounce, they both hollered competitively. Up. Down. The effect was like watching a vertical Ping-Pong game.

  She pushed out of the swing and walked to the fat trunk of an old, towering tree. Sitting against the rough bark was considerably more comfortable than being wedged in a plastic form-sucking swing. The boys were still in her sight, still bouncing up and down. Like her restless mind.

  She pulled out her phone again and opened a blank notepad screen. Typed in Brian at the top and hit Return.

  Yes, lists would always be her comfort zone, her little island of security whenever she felt out of control. Just adding the number 1 now calmed her slightly. She entered his attributes.

  1. Meets 10/10 list criteria (or 9.5…jury’s out on health-conscious.)

  2. Good conversationalist.

  3. Attractive.

  4. Creative date idea.

  5. Well-off. (Not that this is necessary!)

  6. Easy to be with.

  7. Safe, respectable career.

  8. …

  She stared at the boys in the distance, thinking, trying to come up with more positive points. But her mind kept getting sidelined. After several returns on the screen, she typed again.

  Alex.

  1. …

  She picked at the grass, lost in thought. The boys ran off, the silence seemed to buzz in her ears. Tilting her head back against the trunk, she absently watched a bird flit around in the branches above. She tossed her phone into the grass beside her.

  It was no use.

  She could sit here and try to convince herself that Brian would make her happy until the leaves fell off the tree and the snow started falling. She could tell herself Alex was wrong for her on paper and in real life. She could repeat the words till her voice was hoarse, but it wouldn’t change the truth that was staring her in the face.

  She’d fallen in love with Alex.

  Taylor closed her eyes, feeling none of the lightness that love should bring.

  Denying it had gotten her by for only so long, and now there was no avoiding the truth. If she could choose who she fell in love with, she’d pick someone like Brian. Someone who made a good match with her. Someone who called their night together “perfect.”

  Not someone who, most days, couldn’t stop feeling responsible for her due to a random tragic accident that he blamed himself for.

  So now what?

  So now…nothing.

  Because it came down to the fact that, while Alex might not fit on her list or be her type of guy at all, the even bigger issue was that she wasn’t Alex’s type of girl. To him, she was his best friend’s little sister. It didn’t matter if he called her Scarlet or Taylor. He would never let himself love her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SOMEWHAT APPROPRIATELY, Taylor said a prayer Monday evening on the way to Saint Patty’s Tavern that Alex had already left.

  She hadn’t had enough time to get her everything’s-fine-we’re-just-friends face on yet. But he’d said Vienna needed her, so here she was.

  She’d just gotten home from work, on time or close to it for once, exhausted after a sleepless night. When she’d seen his number on her caller ID, her heart had flipped out and then she’d told herself that was a pointless reaction. She was proud of how quickly she’d talked herself down.

  Navigating the bar’s crumbling front walk was tricky this time, as she hadn’t had a chance to change out of her three-and-a-half-inch black-and-white leopard slings or her work clothes. Her white pencil skirt and black ruffled shell were definitely overkill for Saint Patty’s.

  When she opened the door, it took all of three seconds, while her eyes adjusted to the darker interior, to figure out her prayers
hadn’t been answered. Alex stood at the back of the room near the doorway between the bar and the kitchen, talking to the male bartender. Facing the front door. Staring at Taylor as he spoke. She couldn’t hear his words over the jukebox but she could make out his voice. And identify his body from a mile away.

  The Monday dinner crowd was bigger than the Friday-night one in these parts. Besides Vienna, who sat at a table in the opposite back corner from her brother, and who didn’t immediately notice Taylor, two other tables were occupied, and three people sat at the counter.

  Taylor made her way toward her friend. With every step she was aware of the weight of Alex’s gaze on her. Ridiculously self-conscious, she felt as if she was just learning to walk in heels and feared she would end up on her face any second. She made it all the way to Vienna’s table before she weakened and darted a glance in Alex’s direction again. Attempted a nonchalant smile at him, as he still watched her. When she turned to Vienna, she found her friend gauging the exchange with too much interest.

  “What are you doing here?” Vienna asked as Taylor pulled a chair out and sat down.

  Vienna’s usual cheerfulness was missing, though she was trying to hide it with a halfhearted smile of greeting. Two beer cans sat on the table in front of her, her hand on one of them as if daring someone to try to pry it from her.

  “Alex said you were upset. I came right over.”

  She shot a glare at her brother. “When did you talk to Alex?”

  “Fifteen minutes ago. He called me,” Taylor explained. “What’s going on, Vee?”

  “You didn’t have to call Taylor,” Vienna said as Alex strode up to the table. “Must’ve done it when I was in the bathroom.” She muttered the last to herself.