Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2)

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  “That’s the opposite of everything we’ve talked about.”

  “I know.” Restless fingers picked at her dress. “But this is a big step, and it feels wrong to do it without some kind of formality.”

  “Why?” I asked. She didn’t answer, and I asked again. “Why, Claudia?”

  “Because.” She huffed. “It’s what’s expected.”

  This was more about her father, her family, and everyone else, than it was about us.

  “Fine. We’ll get you a ring then.” I closed my eyes, shielding my annoyance.

  It was anything but fine.

  Chapter 10 • Claudia

  April picked me up at my house en route to Fantasy Bridal on the North Shore. Sunday morning traffic was light. We were meeting her mother and sister, and the rest of the bridesmaids to try on gowns for the wedding, a date now firmly set for the last weekend in May.

  “So you going to tell me what’s up with you and the hot doctor?” she asked.

  My skin prickled at the implication. “What do you mean? Andrew's just a coworker.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s all that he’s thinking. He did try to pick you up that night at the Monkey. I don’t know if you noticed, but he was staring at you a lot out at the beach.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He didn’t know anyone but me. There’s absolutely nothing between us nor have I entertained the idea,” I threw back. “I was very clear with Andrew that the party was for my boyfriend.”

  “Okay, okay, whatever you say.” She waved a hand in retreat. “You did good by the way, chica. Toby seemed to enjoy his birthday.”

  “Yep, he most certainly did.” I leaned against the car door and smiled.

  “Oh, my God, I was talking about the party, but you’re not!” The car strayed to one side of the street as she whacked my leg. "Spill it, girl."

  “Two hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road, please.” I held back, watching traffic, and only when I was sure we were safe, did I continue. And then, I squealed. "Oh, my God, last night was, like, so … gooood!”

  “Four years of college and good is the best adjective you can come up with?” She elbowed me. “I'm craving me some multi-syllable, vivid details, chica.”

  “It’s just … He’s so …” A blaze of heat licked my face. I wasn't used to talking like this. Tracing the outline of the console between the seats, I snuck a look at her. “Toby’s got a lot of energy. He said he was tired, but when we got back to his house, we went three rounds.”

  “Three?” The car veered again as she gaped wide-eyed at me.

  “April, the road,” I prompted, and she straightened the car out. My body felt both fatigued and energized, the same way it did after a good workout at the gym.

  “Lucky girl. All I got out of Dario was a quickie on the beach after everyone left.”

  “Oh, April.” I laughed, imaging them frolicking on the beach in the dark, sand in unthinkable places. “Um, something came up last night.”

  “Yes, and several times, too!” she crowed.

  “Oh, please, no.” I buried my face in my hands. “I meant he… we talked about getting engaged.”

  “Oh!” April slowed the car and grabbed my hand. “I’ll help you plan your wedding, and we’ll buy houses next to each other and raise our kids together.”

  A surge of desire plucked at my heart, like a small child’s wiggling fingers of want extended for something too far out of reach.

  Behind us, a car honked. We were sitting at a green traffic light.

  “Your attitude is infectious, and I love you for it, but I’m sure that guy behind us isn't too impressed with your driving.”

  Unruffled, April stepped on the gas. “Tell me everything.”

  “Not much to tell. The engagement came up off the cuff. He wants me to move in. I don't know how I can talk to my father about this. Cohabitating will never fly. Getting engaged seems like the only way.”

  “You have to do what's right for you,” she said. “Your dad loves you, but life is short, chica. Do what makes you happy.”

  What exactly was right for me?

  “He didn’t initiate it, the engagement, I mean. I did.” I leaned my head against the window. “Now I feel like I coerced him into it. Over the summer, we decided we didn’t want to get married or have children.”

  “Pfft. Everyone says that in the beginning.” She rolled her lips. “You’ve known each other for several years. You love him. He loves you. It’s the natural progression of your relationship.” She pulled into a parking space in front of the bridal store. “How do you think he’ll propose? I can talk to him, or better yet, have Dario talk to him and give him some suggestions.”

  In the bridal store window, a mannequin, dressed as a bride in dramatic swaths of snow white lace and silk, was flanked by a small entourage of bridesmaids in a rainbow of creamy colors. The bridal gown was amazing, and the display was idealistically romantic. In light of my impending engagement, a little piece of me longed to be the bell of the ball, star of my own personal fairy tale.

  But that had never been me. I had never wanted the fuss or understood why anyone would spend a small fortune on a dress meant only to be worn for one day. That wasn't my style.

  “No. I don't want a dramatic proposal, just a ring.” I turned my eyes away from the bridal display. I didn’t see myself schooling Toby on proposal etiquette or having our friends suggest to him how he do it. It smelled of presumption. And coercion.

  “When are you planning on going ring shopping?”

  “I don’t know when we’re going to find time. The holidays are coming, he’s got training classes, his band is under contract to play, and my class schedule isn’t for the faint of heart. I’m being really challenged this semester. I studied my brains out and only pulled an 81 on my last bioethics test.” There were term papers, group discussions, and projects and an obscene amount of required reading. I embraced it all, but the full course load combined with a full workweek at Sterling, I couldn’t afford to be sidetracked with other events.

  “Make time to sit over a bottle of wine and hash out the details, like what side of the bed you’ll be sleeping on and who’s paying what bills,” she said.

  Oh, yes, money matters. I needed to consider my finances. I would never expect Toby to help me pay for school, but the reality was, without my father’s help, I was cash poor.

  The dressing room inside the posh bridal store had a platform with a three-way mirror in which the bride-to-be could model potential gowns. It also had a plush viewing couch for the family, but with April’s mother, sister, and five cousins, and me, the staff had to drag in several more chairs to accommodate our party. April emerged, like Ronalty, in a mermaid gown with a long flowing train. Teary-eyed, I went to my best friend.

  “April, you look beautiful.”

  She kept her eyes low, smoothing fabric down. “Marla and my sister don’t like this one, but I really love it.”

  “Your wedding. Your choice,” I said.

  “You’re right.” April spun around, her whole face lighting up. “This is the dress I’m going to be married in. Married, can you believe it?”

  She was going to be one over-the-top happy bride.

  “Dario’s not going to believe his eyes when he sees you in this,” I said, squeezing her shoulders. “I’m so happy to be a part of witnessing two of my closest friends come together.”

  “Thank you, mami.” April hugged me. “Soon it will be your turn. I can’t wait.”

  For the first time, it really hit me. Toby and I were going to live together. Maybe I wasn’t going to have the big expensive wedding, but Toby and I were moving forward, starting a life together. We had a promise of tomorrow.

  Decision made, April went to change, and the bridal party was unleashed on the store to hunt for bridesmaid dresses. Unfortunately, we were six women of varying sizes and tastes, all vying for the dress of their choice. In other words, total chaos. I stood back as April’s cousins and
sister took turns thrusting their choices in front of her face. In true April style, she complemented each dress as she considered them, but an hour later, the troops’ mild flutter of disagreements became strong arguments for or against certain colors and styles. April’s smile drooped.

  At one point, April’s two cousins, Sophie and Isabella, bickered the merits of full verses A-line skirts.

  “I guess hoping this would be easy was too much to ask for,” April whispered to me amongst some yellow taffeta gowns.

  My heart went out to her. When she excused herself to the ladies room, I corralled the women.

  “I think we need to remember this is April’s wedding, and she has a vision for it,” I said, turning to look at each of them. They remained quiet.

  “Claudia’s right.” June, April’s older, married sister, voiced her agreement.

  She was a taller, carbon copy of April, and I had always admired her confidence and witty personality. She had married only last year herself and had just found out she was pregnant with her first child.

  The girls’ cousin, Marla, snorted. “Obviously, it won’t matter for you, June, because by then, you’ll have a giant baby bump. Anything you wear will look like a tent. If I’m spending all this money, I’m going to get what I want.”

  I tried to be the voice of reason. “Perhaps we can all try to be a teensy bit more agreeable and make this easier for April.”

  Marla laid a hand on a curvy hip, her green eyes raking over me with apparent repugnance. “This ain’t no ‘Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.’ I’m a full-figured gal, and, bitch, you so damn skinny you’d look about the same in any of these dresses. I’m not about to settle on a dress that only looks good on a skinny-ass like you.” She glowered, daring me to disagree. “You best step back and let me get to choosing my dress.”

  No one made a peep. I suspected, like me, they were all a tiny bit intimidated by her just then. With a dismissive roll of her head, she passed me to inspect another rack.

  June put an arm around me. “Don’t mind Marla. She’s our bitchy cousin. Unfortunately, April had to include her in the bridal party. Family thing and all.”

  “Jeez. Just trying to get them to be reasonable for April’s sake.” I rubbed my arms trying to chase away the sting. “I’m not all that skinny, and no one has ever called me a bitch before.”

  “I highly doubt that,” she said.

  “Wow, thanks for the pep talk, June.”

  “Sweetie, I didn’t mean it like that.” June hugged my shoulders. “I know you. You’re very focused and disciplined. You go after what you want.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Anytime a woman asserts herself and goes after what she wants or needs, the ‘b’ word starts popping up. If they’re not saying it to your face, they’re saying it behind your back.”

  I gave her the standard eye roll. “How comforting.”

  She waved a hand. “They’re just jealous, because unlike you and me, they don’t have the guts to go after what they really want. Marla won’t join your fan club. Que sera sera, chica.”

  I was thankful for June’s reassurance, but I hoped I wouldn’t be stepping into Marla’s line of fire again any time soon.

  * * * *

  Lunch was at April’s house. April’s mom, Mrs. DeOro, was a spectacular cook and wouldn’t hear of us going out to a restaurant. She made everyone who came into the house feel welcomed and cherished. Way back in elementary school, when I’d first come over for a play date at April’s house, I’d instantly fallen in love with her. It was no secret to April that I coveted her mom, wishing my own was more like her. Part of the reason I liked to cook was because of the many afternoons I’d spent in the DeOro kitchen with April and her mom learning how to prepare zesty Cuban dishes.

  Once our group was seated, June and I helped Mrs. DeOro serve the arroz con pollo a la chorrera, a chicken and rice dish braised in wine, and baked empanadas. I grabbed serving utensils from the kitchen, and upon my return to the table, the stout matriarch of the family pulled me to her and gave me a crushing hug.

  “Mi hija, you are simply glowing.” She captured my face between her small, commanding hands, kind and warm brown eyes assessing me. “You must be in love.”

  “Oh, she so is.” April came up behind her mother and joined our hug. “She and Toby are quite the lovebirds. When they’re together, sparks ignite, and nothing else exists.”

  “Be quiet, beach queen,” I said and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, mama. I am very happy.”

  At the table, June caught my ear. “Sounds like you guys are in the spin cycle, and that is absolutely the hottest, most wicked one!” June’s grin was contagious. Waiting until her mother reentered the kitchen, she leaned forward and teepeed her hands. “I have a theory that relationships go through cycles, kind of like those of a washing machine. You know, the pre-wash, wash, spin, rinse, and drain.”

  The other girls and I passed the food, filling our plates, while June continued.

  “Pre-wash is the getting to know each other stage, or ‘the interest.’ Then there’s the wash cycle, which I call ‘the intense’ because it where everything gets agitated and worked into a lather.” June twisted her hands together, demonstrating the ‘agitated lathering.’ “If we you’re still getting along, the spin cycle begins. That’s when the washing machine works the hardest—ours, down in the basement, rotates so fast, it almost walks across the floor. That’s the cycle so hot you cannot possibly keep your hands off each other—no matter what—a look or a touch might send you into a frenzy of tearing each other’s clothes off to get busy. If you’re lucky, you’ll keep returning to this cycle, but if it ends too soon, it usually means a cool rinse and finally … the drain.”

  The bridesmaids guffawed at June’s analogy, but it had a lot of truth to it. I couldn’t stop thinking about Toby, my body warming with thoughts of being wrapped around him, making love. I knew later, as soon as I had the chance, I’d be all over him. If June’s theory was right, Toby and I were in the spin cycle.

  June leaned forward, her eyebrows rising with a suggestive arch. “I, for one, always wondered if Toby Faye was as good with his hands as I imagined he’d be. Lusty minds want to know. Give us the deets, Claudia.”

  With a wily smile April leaned in, too. “As a matter of fact, my little chica told me this morning that Toby has mucho aguante!” April shared my praise of Toby’s stamina with the eager ears of the group.

  “April!” Fiery heat rose in my cheeks.

  “Muy caliente.” June, in a gesture so much like her sister’s, fanned her face with her dinner napkin. “Good for you, mamí.”

  The others grinned and murmured in agreement, except for Marla, to June’s right, who sat stone-faced.

  “That guy has been in the ‘spin-cycle’ with a lot of girls.” Marla sniffed. “In fact, not that long ago I saw him hot and heavy with someone at the Mad Monkey. And it wasn’t you, Claudia.”

  For a harsh second the room went eerily quiet until April hissed, “Marla! What the hell?”

  All at once, the table erupted into a furious chatter. I shoved my chair back and left the room.

  April was hot on my heels. “Chica, I’m so sorry about that. Marla is a notorious shit-stirrer. If Toby had been with someone, I would’ve told you.”

  I knew she would’ve—if she had known about it.

  “Hey,” Toby greeted me casually from his place in front of the television. The sound of some baseball playoff game blared in the background. My cell phone rang from somewhere in my bag, but I ignored it.

  Feet planted and arms crossed, I stood before him. “Were you with someone before I came home from California?”

  He tilted his head. “Did someone say something to you?”

  Answering a question with another question was suspect.

  “April’s cousin Marla told me she saw you with someone.”

  “Marla,” he repeated the name, his lips curling with repugnance. “It d
oesn’t surprise me. I dated her best friend. Marla never liked me.”

  “Is she lying then, or did she really see you with someone at the Monkey?”

  “You want me to make a list of girls I’ve been with? Is that what you want?” Impatience rode his tone.

  I shook my head unwilling to concede how intimidating such a list might be, but his defensiveness alighted me to the truth. “She wasn’t lying. You were seeing someone before I came home.”

  Being enlightened didn’t make me feel better. It left me flat.

  His expression softened as he looked up at me. “Yes, but it was nothing. No one, not her or any of the rest of them, was serious, not even the one I lived with in Cape Coral ever meant anything.”

  “You lived with someone?”

  “I told you about her. The one with the dog.”

  “No, you told me about a girlfriend with a yappy dog, but you never said you lived with her.” I threw my hands up.

  “I went to Florida after high school. She got the house in her divorce. I needed a place to live.”

  “Divorced? You couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty. How old was she?”

  “Older,” he muttered, a steely edge of challenge darkened his eyes. “Want me to tell you about her?”

  The yes tingled in my throat, a morbid need for details, but at the same time, my stomach cramped around my semi-digested lunch. My cell rang, and I did an about face, digging into my bag to silence it. I ran an impatient hand through my hair and strode to the door. “I’m going home.”

  He caught my arm. “You aren’t allowed to be mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m… upset.”

  “You’re not allowed to be that either.”

  I quirked a brow. “Oh, I’m not? Why is that?”

  “Being angry or upset about my old girlfriends is beyond ridiculous, Claude. I didn’t even know you.”

  “Thanks for making me feel stupid on top of everything else.” I tugged my arm free.

  “Come on. This doesn’t change anything.”

  “I disagree.” I swung around and crossed my arms. “I can handle a couple of Hannahs and Kates, but an older, live-in lover—I can’t wrap my head around that one.”