Now or Never

by Victoria Denault

  17

  Winnie

  I take a big breath and swing open the door to Cannon’s Corner Grocery. The bells jingle above my head, and Cat looks up from where she’s sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the Portland Herald. Her expression remains passive, which I realize is a very bad sign. I’ve known her since I was four years old and she’s never been anything but bold, bright and expressive.

  “Cinnamon buns are fresh. Coffee is too. Just brewed a new pot,” she says in a monotone voice and looks back down at the paper.

  I walk over and lean on the counter, peering up at her desperately. “Come on, Cat. Let me have it.”

  She sighs and closes the sports section. Her blue eyes are filled with confusion. “I don’t get it. You hated him most of all when we were kids. Up until he robbed me, I was actually the one trying to convince you he wasn’t so bad. But you were right. He was bad. He is bad.”

  I shake my head. “No, he isn’t. Not anymore. Now he’s just a guy trying to turn his life around, and he’s succeeding.”

  Cat’s bold red lips curve downward. “He’s always been great at pretending to be what you want him to be. I know you’re going through a lot, Win, but I thought you’d see through that.”

  “I would if he was playing me, but he’s not,” I argue. I stand up again and sigh. “Look, Cat, I can’t and won’t sell you on him. I know who he is, and I trust him and I like him. A lot. He doesn’t have to prove anything to me anymore.”

  She stands up and walks over to the counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Sorry, Win, but I don’t think he can prove anything to me. I’m not buying what he’s selling. But I adore you and I don’t want this to impact our friendship.”

  “Good. Neither do I,” I agree and reach over the counter and grab her arms, forcing her to uncross them and hold my hands. “So please, can we agree to disagree right now? Eventually though, I will try to make you see what I see. I’m hoping I don’t even have to try and you just see it yourself.”

  Her face twists for a second like I just told her something that was equal parts unbelievable and distasteful. Great. I clearly have a long way to go with her. However her face slips back into a friendly smile and she squeezes both my hands. “For the record, I hope I’m not right. Because you deserve the best guy ever. And if, sadly, I am right, I will be there to pick up all your pieces. I promise.”

  “You won’t have to. I promise,” I reach across the counter and hug her.

  “Cinnamon bun?”

  “Three, please.”

  Her eyes grow steely. “I am fighting the urge to tell you we have a one bun per customer maximum.”

  “Fight hard, Cannon. I want three,” I reply and she groans, but walks over to the warmer where she keeps the buns.

  I woke up this morning feeling mildly hungover but yet still better than I have in months. Holden was about to get in the shower, but I reminded him he had postponed sex. That’s all it took for him to delay his shower and make good on that rain check.

  Before yesterday I knew I was done fighting the attraction I had to him. I’d made that decision the night my sisters were here and I snuck out of the cottage to be with him. But it was only yesterday, watching him coach those kids and then later enduring his sister’s skepticism, that I decided I was done fighting against the bond that we were so clearly forming.

  I walk over to the coffee station and pour myself some dark roast and add hazelnut creamer. Back at the counter, Cat puts the buns in a box and rings up the total. “No discounts when I know my glorious masterpiece is headed for the belly of the enemy.”

  “And his coworker,” I add with a happy smile and hand her the cash. She bites back her own grin and hands me my change.

  I give her a wink, grab my goodies and head toward the door. The bells chime again as I swing it open, but I pause and turn back to her. “I promise to drop it, but let me just go out on this. I was just as skeptical and dismissive of Holden as you were. But I decided, just yesterday in fact, to believe him when he said he changed because I couldn’t deny the way he made me feel anymore.”

  “You mean he’s good at sex?” Cat says. “You can’t deny the orgasms.”

  “No,” I reply firmly. “I’m talking how he started making me feel pre-orgasms. Happy, safe, loved. He isn’t the same mean-spirited, dangerous asshole, because I wouldn’t be in love with him if he was. I’m a good judge of character. I like you, after all.”

  Cat laughs. “Go back to your hoodlum and eat your cinnamon buns. Leave me to chew on your words of wisdom.”

  “Bye!” I step out onto the sidewalk and hum as I make my way back to the cottage.

  The early fall cold snap has broken and the weather is balmy and the sun is shining. Life is fucking excellent.

  “You would love it here today, Dad,” I whisper to myself…and to him. The tears are ready to well up, but I don’t let them. Things are good, and that’s what he would have wanted. No tears required.

  Dave and Holden are overjoyed to get the buns, and it takes away from the stress of Mike being too sick to make it today. I offer my services, since I have little else to do, but Holden declines. “You’re client adjacent, and I don’t let clients help in their own renos.”

  I ask him if I can hang out in his trailer and he says yes, so I head in there and answer emails on my phone. Sadie emailed me to say she’s back and Mom was doing well. She wanted to talk about what I said to Dixie. Apparently, Dixie told Eli they should postpone the wedding, and he was not thrilled. I sigh. Right. I still have to handle that.

  I call Dixie. She answers on the fourth ring. She doesn’t sound like herself when she says hello. She sounds depressed. “Listen, I was wrong,” I say immediately. “Don’t postpone the wedding.”

  “Who is that?” I hear Eli ask in the background.

  “It’s Winnie, and now she’s agreeing with you,” Dixie tells him and she sounds exasperated.

  “Good! Now I don’t have to fly to Maine and scream at her,” Eli says loud enough that it’s perfectly clear through the phone.

  “It doesn’t matter. I still think she was right,” Dixie argues and he swears.

  “Dixie, you don’t,” I say. “You’re just hurting, which is logical, but postponing the wedding isn’t. Dad wouldn’t want us putting our lives on hold, especially the good parts.”

  She doesn’t respond at first and through the silence I hear her sniff. My eyes instantly start to water and unlike earlier, I can’t stop them. “Dixie, I’m a mess too right now. That’s why I said something so stupid. But Dad got to give his blessing on your wedding, so you should do it. The cottage is going to look beautiful and he always hoped we’d get married here, so do it. Please. You won’t regret it. It’ll have moments of pain, but it won’t be painful. Please. Listen to me for once.”

  A sob-laugh escapes her. “I always listen to you. And Sadie and even Jude, but don’t tell him.”

  “And are any of them telling you not to do this?”

  “No. It was just you.”

  “I was wrong,” I say and wipe the tears from my eyes.

  “Okay,” she sniffs again but she sounds better. “July first, Canada Day weekend it is.”

  “Yes!” I hear Eli cheer and then Dixie squeals. I bet my life he either picked her up or tackled her. Those two are more like WWE partners than lovers sometimes. “Thanks for fixing this, Win!”

  “You’re welcome!” I call into the phone, hoping he hears me.

  “Get off me. I need to talk to Winnie about her man situation,” Dixie says to her fiancé. A second later her voice grows serious. “Sadie told me on the plane ride home you spent the night in Holden’s trailer.”

  “I did. I do. It’s like an ongoing thing now.”

  “I’m…well…I’m shocked,” Dixie says. “Is this some crazy rebound thing? I mean, I know it’s been a while since you’ve been single and you’ve never had a fling. You’ve been dating Ty since you were old enough to date, and
Holden’s hot. Douchey but hot.”

  “He’s not a douche,” I tell her and my eyes land on a pile of papers on the edge of the kitchenette table. On top is his business license paperwork. It’s all filled out except the business name. “He’s different than when he was kid. And it’s not a fling. It’s something…more.”

  “Oh.” She sounds more worried than stunned now and that makes me upset. Why can’t anyone just be happy for me?

  “Dixie, I need support right now,” I say tersely. “We all do, and he’s the only one giving it to me.”

  “Wait a minute. If you’d just come home, we’d be giving you support,” Dixie says angrily. “I want to be there for you. We all do. You’re the one who ran away.”

  “I know that. And I don’t know why I couldn’t go back to San Francisco after I dumped Ty,” I say and reach for Holden’s paperwork. “I used to think I was running too, but now I’m beginning to think it was to something, not from something. I needed to be here. I needed to find this new, improved Holden and he needed me.”

  “Winnie, I want you to be happy and I would trust that if you think he’s changed his ways, he has,” Dixie replies quickly and her anger has turned to sympathy, which I like even less. “But while we were there, I saw a creepy dude who was totally tweaked out come by his trailer early in the morning. And Holden gave him cash.”

  “What?” My heart plummets.

  “Yeah. I mean I thought it was totally sketchy but typical Holden,” Dixie explains. “But you’re saying that’s not him anymore so…I just thought you should ask him about that then.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ll ask him.” I swallow but my mouth and throat are dry. “What did this guy look like?”

  Dixie gives me a description and even though it’s vague, I know it’s that guy Cat and I saw him talking to in the alley the other night. The one Cat claims is the town drug dealer. My heart sinks further until it feels like it’s in the bottom of my stomach.

  I walk over to the fridge and grab a bottle of water from it. “Okay. I’ll talk to him about it. In the meantime, start planning your wedding and let me know when you’re going dress shopping. You know I’m not missing that.”

  We say good-bye and I hang up. I look around the trailer as I sip the water that for some reason, doesn’t keep my mouth from staying dry. I could snoop right now. I could dig around in his drawers and look for something that proves my fears—and everyone’s insinuations—are valid. But that would be wrong. Easy, but wrong. I could march over to the cottage and demand the truth. That would be easy too, but it would hurt him. I know this. Especially after last night, it would look like I hadn’t made up my mind about him. Like I was still looking for reasons to derail this thing between us, and I’m really not. I don’t want to actively look for reasons anymore. And I didn’t seek this out.

  “Fuck, Holden,” I whisper to myself. “Do not let me down.”

  I decide I’ll wait until tonight, after he’s coached hockey and I’ve tutored Duke. Maybe casually over dinner. He’s stressed right now with Mike being sick.

  Ugh. It’s going to be a long day.

  Five hours later, I’m in the same spot, at the dinette in the trailer, sitting across from Duke as he bites his bottom lip and stares at one of the cookies I baked earlier for this purpose. First, I had him cut it into fractions and now I’m giving him fraction sizes and he has to make that size using the smaller pieces. If he gets it right, he can eat it.

  “Half…,” he mutters to himself. He grabs to pieces. “Two quarters make a half.”

  “Exactly!” I say and he grins. “Eat your fractions.”

  He grins and pops a quarter into his mouth as his mother opens the trailer door and peeks in. “Ready to go, Duke?” Bradie asks as he chows down. She looks confused by the cookie consumption.

  “I was teaching him fractions using cookies,” I explain. “I find visuals help.”

  “Cookies make everything better,” Bradie says with a smile.

  I scoot out of the booth after Duke, who is gathering his stuff off the table. He turns to his mom and holds up his homework. “Done. Whole thing! And I, like, understood how Winnie explained it.”

  “Good!” Bradie says and there’s definitely relief in her tone. She inhales deeply. “What smells so delicious?”

  “I’m cooking dinner. It’s my secret meatloaf recipe,” I say.

  “For Holden?” Bradie could not sound more shocked if she tried.

  “Well, for both of us,” I say and suddenly feel a little sheepish. I didn’t actually tell him I was making dinner. I went to the store to buy the ingredients for the cookies, for Duke’s tutoring, and the idea struck me there. I love cooking. I haven’t done it since my dad died and I didn’t do it much in the years he was sick either. And to be honest, the impulse to do it now wasn’t so much some kind of romantic gesture for Holden—like Bradie clearly thinks it is judging by her expression—it was more a way of keeping my mind off what Dixie told me.

  Holden walks up behind Bradie. Standing there together I can really see the family resemblance. They both have the same light brown hair color and the same full mouth. They both seem to have the same acute sense of smell too because he leans toward the open door and sniffs. “What smells fantastic?”

  “I’m making dinner,” I say and turn back to Bradie. “There’s enough for four if you guys want to stay. I mean, you’re already here and it’ll be ready in a minute.”

  She looks uncomfortable, like I just asked her an overly personal question or something.

  Girlfriend, I just asked you to have dinner with your brother, not give me a kidney. She looks so weirded out by the possibility I’m about to rescind the offer, but then Duke pipes up, “Ma, you wouldn’t have to cook. You hate cooking.”

  Bradie looks horrified by her son’s candidness. “I don’t hate it,” she says sternly. “I just am exhausted by the time I get home and so it feels like a chore.”

  “It smells so good!” Duke says in one of those longing, singsong voices that only kids can do. Bradie, in no way seems like the type of mom that will give in to that tone, but to my surprise, she relents.

  “Fine,” she says and Duke looks as surprised as I am. Bradie turns her blue eyes on me. “It does smell better than the chicken fingers and steamed broccoli I was going to make.”

  A look of happiness flickers across Holden’s face, but he turns away before I can completely enjoy it. It was a beautiful thing. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze in here.”

  “I was thinking, since it’s such a nice night, we could eat out on the back deck. There’s a big picnic table out there,” I say and no one objects, but Holden does look sheepish.

  “I don’t know if I have enough dishes for everyone,” he admits.

  “Do you have like one fork, one knife and one plate?” Bradie asks.

  “Two of each,” he replies and Bradie laughs.

  “You’re hopeless,” she says but she’s smiling, which is awesome. She turns to me. “Are there more plates in the house?”

  “Yep. Everything is conveniently piled up on the dining room table until the kitchen is complete,” I say and walk over to the oven to turn it off. Everything should be ready to be plated now.

  “I’ll go get them and set the table,” she offers.

  “Front door is open,” Holden tells her. “I’m going to wash up real quick.”

  Bradie nods and grabs Duke. “Put your backpack down and help me, buddy.”

  Duke does what he’s told and the two head out of the Airstream. I grab Holden’s oven mitts and open the oven door. As I place the bubbling meatloaf tin on the stovetop, I realize he’s still standing there staring at me. I look up at him. “What?”

  In one wide stride, he’s bridged the space between us and he’s kissing me—hard. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s so confident or the pure passion in the kiss itself but all my worry and fears about what Dixie told me start to feel ridiculous. And all I can th
ink about is how stupid I was to invite Bradie and Duke to dinner because right now I would much rather let the meal grow cold and just have made hot sex with Holden. He pulls away and the look on his ruggedly gorgeous face is intense and it catches me off-guard.

  “There’s a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore looking like an idiot,” Holden explains, his already low voice has dropped an octave and has a rough, gravelly quality to it suddenly. “My mom used to say it all the time.”

  I want to grin at that because the double entendre of it is smart, but his expression is still so intense—almost dark—that I can’t. Is there something here I’m not getting? He cups the side of my face and kisses me softly, quickly. “I really hope we’re fishing, Win, and I don’t end up looking like an idiot.”

  Before I can figure out what that means, he leaves me and disappears into the bathroom. I want to chase him into the bathroom but I still have to get the Brussels sprouts and roasted potatoes out of the oven and make the Braddocks’ special meatloaf gravy to go with the meal. So, I don’t follow and instead let his words echo in my head. I would never make him look like an idiot. He’s the one who might be making me look like one.

  18

  Holden

  The woman of my dreams. That’s what she is. I mean, I was pretty sure of that fact before Winnie volunteered to tutor my nephew so he could stay on the hockey team and spend time with me. And before she invited my sister to stay for dinner and hang out with me, which Bradie actually seems to be enjoying. But any last inkling of uncertainty was erased when I ate this meal. Winnie is an incredible cook. I shamelessly had two helpings of the meatloaf with the decadent gravy and the roast garlic potatoes and bacon-roasted Brussels sprouts. So did Duke and he went so far as to lick his plate.

  “Duke!” Bradie chastises.

  “Are you kidding? It’s the ultimate compliment.” Winnie laughs and ruffles his hair.

  Bradie stands as Winnie does to help her clear the dishes. I start to join them, but Winnie shoos me away. “Sit. Relax. We’ve got this.”