And with Maysie came her friends.
I remembered the first time Maysie had come to one of our shows. She showed up with Riley, Gracie, and Vivian. At first I dismissed them as stuck up college chicks. Being a townie, I was used to having the Rinard crowd look down their noses at me just because I lived in Bakersville and didn’t go to school.
They all had that preppy, too-good-for-everyone vibe that I hadn’t wanted anything to do with. Even if they were all pretty damn hot. Particularly the petite blonde with legs for miles.
I had noticed Gracie immediately. She had been wearing this short yellow dress with white polka dots. She seemed more suited for a picnic than a rock show. She drank some sort of cocktail, which she pounded faster than a dude.
And when she danced, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I stood up on the stage, playing my music, and my entire focus had been on the crazy sorority chick wiggling her ass in the audience. Gracie was beautiful. She was loud, screaming, and jumping up and down. I dug how she was completely uninhibited. But she was also shitfaced drunk. Which I was soon to learn was a pattern with her. At first it didn’t bother me.
Later it became a bigger problem than I had realized.
“Of course we’re family. The crazy, dysfunctional kind, but family nonetheless,” I said.
“That’s the best kind,” Maysie smiled.
We sat side by side for a while, neither of us talking.
“Are you happy with Sophie?” Maysie asked out of the blue.
“Huh?” I blinked in surprise.
“I mean, do you see yourself together for the long-term?” Maysie went on.
I thought of a hundred answers that very simple question.
“No,” I said without hesitation. Shit. Where had that come from? I had never given much thought about my future with Sophie. I didn’t think about where we’d be next month, let alone “long-term.”
“I don’t know why I just said that,” I said, feeling like an ass. Maysie would undoubtedly think I was a raging douchebag. What kind of guy dates a girl for a year and then when asked if he could see himself with said girl in the future, says no?
The douchebaggy kind.
Because if I felt that way I shouldn’t be with Sophie. End of discussion.
I thought of how things were when we returned to the hotel room tonight. How cold and distant I felt.
Sophie had to have felt it. Of course she did. She wasn’t an idiot.
Why were we together?
The answer didn’t seem so simple anymore.
Sure, Sophie was safe. Sophie was constant.
Sophie had been there when I needed someone to be.
I had been terrified of being alone. Because if I was alone, there would have been a good chance I’d crawl on hands and knees back to Gracie, begging her to love me. And I had been trying to hold onto some semblance of pride.
Warm fucking milk.
Maysie didn’t look surprised by my confession. She didn’t look at me in disappointment or disgust either, which was good for my already deteriorating self-esteem. She stood up and shoved her hands into her pockets. “I think this break from being on the road will be good for everyone. Maybe you should take that time to figure out your long-term.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a decent idea,” I agreed.
Maysie shivered. “Okay, I’m going back in before I turn into a Popsicle. Thanks for the chat, Mitch.”
“Sure thing. Anytime, Mays.”
I sat outside for another hour after Maysie left. Maybe you should take that time to figure out your long-term.
She was right.
That’s exactly what I was going to do.
“Let me be what you need. Please,” I begged her. I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t get inside of her. We weren’t even naked. Gracie had pushed my jeans down over my ass and her panties still dangled from her left ankle. She was on her back underneath me, panting and ready.
Her face was red from my stubble, her lips swollen from my teeth. She was gorgeous.
She had shown up at my hotel room door and everything had happened so fast. The next thing I knew we were kissing. Goddamn, we were kissing. It was like we were going to devour each other.
Then her shirt came off and I finally tasted those amazing tits. I had dreamed about Gracie’s breasts. Imagined a thousand times what they’d feel like. I just didn’t think I’d ever have the chance. Because we were just friends.
Only ever friends.
For years I had been relegated to that place where a guy’s ego goes to die. The friend zone.
But then she showed up tonight and let me touch her. And kiss her. And now here I was, with my cock between her legs and she was having doubts. I should have expected it. Gracie was messy. She was complicated. She was absolutely everything I had ever, could ever want.
Gracie reached up and cupped my face in her hands. “You’re always so patient with me, Mitch. Why? Why haven’t you run in the other direction? Most people would, you know.”
How could she not know? Hadn’t I made it obvious a million times already?
I grabbed her hand and softly kissed the palm, letting my lips linger. Then I looked down at her and told her the words I had always wanted her to hear.
“Because I love you, Gracie. God, I love you.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head.
I kissed her salty lips. “I love you,” I whispered against her mouth.
She wrapped her legs around my waist and arched her back. I slipped inside her. Not all the way. Just enough to know that I never wanted to be anywhere else. I could live and die between her legs and go a happy man.
“Please, Mitch,” she begged and I wasn’t going to prolong this for either of us. We had waited long enough.
I pushed inside her, shuddering as she took all of me. “I love you, Gracie,” I groaned as I adjusted to the feel of her.
“I will always love you,” I gasped as we started to move together. Gracie’s fingers dug into my back and I kissed the line of her neck. I didn’t care that she didn’t say it back. I’d say it enough for both of us. “There will never be anyone for me but you.”
I couldn’t stop telling her all the things that had been locked away in my heart for years. Now that she was here, underneath me, completely open, I wanted to give her the world.
She lifted her hips to meet my thrusts and I could barely hang on. I was toppling over a very steep cliff and I wanted to take her with me.
“Mitch!” she screamed as I came.
I sat up in bed, my heart hammering in my chest and experiencing the most uncomfortable case of morning wood that I could ever remember having.
I ran my hand through my sweaty hair and tried to breathe normally.
I looked over at Sophie. She was still asleep, thank god. So I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. I braced myself against the tiled wall and let the water slide over my skin.
Then I wrapped my hand around my dick and pumped. Hard. Rough. Through gritted teeth.
I imagined Gracie’s face when I fucked her. Her head thrown back, her blonde hair spread out over my pillow. I thought about how it felt to slide my cock inside of her. How tight she was and I gripped myself tighter. I tried to be quiet as I jerked off with the image of Gracie Cook haunting me.
Then I came violently. I trembled as I emptied myself onto the cold, wet tile floor. I whispered Gracie’s name as I struggled to stay on my feet.
All the while my girlfriend slept in the next room.
“You’re not eating enough. It’s obvious I can’t trust you to take care of yourself, Gracie,” my mother scolded, separating the food on my plate into three distinct piles.
I was almost expecting her to pick up a spoonful and use the airplane method to get me to eat.
I gripped the napkin in my hands and willed myself not to flip the table.
“Please stop touching my food, Mom,�
�� I said sharply. I moved my plate away from her and cast a quick look around the crowded café, hoping no one was paying attention to the crazy woman attempting to force feed her adult daughter.
My mother scowled her pretty scowl and returned the fork to her own plate. “I want you to weigh yourself when you get home. If you’ve lost weight, I want you to call and tell me and I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment. Maybe you need to increase your therapy again.”
Every conversation was the same. Food. Eating. Booze. Sobriety. Over and over again.
Was it any wonder I had issues?
My mother had spent my entire life telling me I was either eating too much or not enough. Food had become the focus of my entire world. Counting calories, standing on a scale. Pulling at the skin around my hips, sucking in my stomach so I could fit into that tiny skirt. I was never happy because my mother was never happy. But at least I could look pretty while I was miserable.
When I was a child, my image conscious mother entered me in every beauty pageant available. I was the reigning Little Miss Augusta County from 1998 until 2002. I had never been allowed to eat sweets and cake at my friends’ birthday parties. I wasn’t permitted soda or chips on playdates. It was ingrained in me to watch my weight. To make sure that I didn’t get fat.
Having my slender mother as a role model was enough to make anyone develop an eating disorder. I was never able to live up to her unrealistic standards.
So, of course I became obsessed with food. With eating it and not eating it. I would starve myself for days at a time, eating only enough to keep me going. But damn, I could fit into those cute J Brand jeans. So by the time I was diagnosed with Anorexia at the age of twenty-one, I weighed a whopping ninety-eight pounds soaking wet.
Since my diagnosis and subsequent hospitalization, my mother’s mantra had changed. Now instead of telling me I could get fat, my mother was accusing me of being too skinny.
The truth was she was never happy with my appearance. Not when she looked in the mirror and saw perfection.
“My counselor seems to think once a week is more than enough for me at this point. I’m doing really well, Mom,” I assured her, taking a bite of my sandwich to appease her.
“Your father and I simply worry about you. We want you happy and healthy. You can’t fault us for that.” Mom dabbed at her eyes. Cue the waterworks and emotional manipulation. “It would make us feel so much better if you’d move home so we could make sure you were okay. So all of us could heal. Together.”
I took my time chewing my food. It was either that or I’d tell her to go to hell in a very uncomfortable hand basket.
“We cleaned out your room the other day. Your dad had some new furniture delivered. We thought that you could pick out a new color for the walls. Something more grown up. Oh, I can take you shopping for a new wardrobe. That sounds fun, right?”
I looked down at my very sensible grey skirt and blue blouse. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” I asked, picking up on my mom’s unique form of passive aggression.
My mother smoothed out the skirt of her own dress, a pretty pink number with three quarter sleeves and a stylish wide belt. “It just doesn’t suit your frame. You need something that gives you the illusion of curves. Otherwise you look like a stick.”
“I like what I’m wearing, Mom,” I told her. I was learning not to cower under her intense scrutiny. It was tough growing a backbone, but I was trying.
My mom pursed her lips but didn’t push the issue. “Where were you this weekend? Your father had hoped to see you on Sunday for dinner.”
“I went to see my friends’ band with Maysie, Vivian, and Riley. I told you about it.”
“Is this that rock and roll band? I don’t think that’s a very good scene for a recovering alcoholic,” Mom announced loudly. A woman sitting at the next table looked in our direction.
“Jeesh, Mom, why don’t you tell the world about my personal business,” I muttered under my breath.
My mom didn’t acknowledge my comment. “I was talking to Jolene yesterday and she mentioned there’s an AA group that meets at her church on Wednesdays. It’s that group for alcoholics where they get up and talk.”
“I know what AA is, Mom,” I said quietly.
“Oh, well you should go. It’d be good for you.” My mother pulled out a tube of lipstick and a compact. “Vivian’s keeping alcohol out of the apartment isn’t she? She doesn’t seem like a very responsible girl. This is why it would be better for you to live at home.”
I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Vivian is very responsible. She’s an events coordinator at The Claremont Center,” I reminded her.
“Oh, that’s right. Your father just bought me season tickets to the ballet there.” She discreetly wiped excess lipstick from her mouth and tucked it back into her purse. “Eat your lunch, Gracie.”
I picked up my sandwich and finished it off. It felt like lead in the pit of my stomach.
My father was a successful businessman. My mother had built her world around being the perfect wife. The perfect mother. The perfect woman.
In their eyes I was neither successful nor perfect. But I had tried. I had really tried. But I was learning that my version of success was just as important. And being perfect didn’t mean being happy.
“I have to meet Maysie, Mom.” I got to my feet, not able to sit there with her any longer.
“Oh. I was hoping we could have some dessert,” my mom said, looking disappointed. Her made-up face softened momentarily and she took my hand. “I like your shoes, I meant to tell you that.”
I looked down at my plain, black pumps with their short heel. They weren’t the sort of shoes my mother would ever consider wearing.
She gave me a smile and I smiled back. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
I left thinking that maybe I wasn’t the only one trying to change.
“Wow, this place is awesome!” I exclaimed, getting out of my car and joining Maysie on the front porch of a beautiful colonial style house.
“It is, isn’t it?” Maysie remarked giddily. She jingled keys in her hand in obvious excitement.
“So you want to tell me why we’re here?” I asked as Maysie unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I followed her into a small foyer.
“This is my new house. Well mine and Jordan’s,” she said, walking into a large living room with a fireplace against one wall and a bay window looking out onto the street.
“What?” I gaped. “You got a house? When did this happen?”
“Well, we can’t live in Garrett’s spare room forever. As much as I love the guys, we need our own space. Especially now with so many changes happening.” She started pulling dustcovers off furniture and dropping them in a pile on the floor. “I took that PR job. I got the phone call confirming everything this morning. I’ll be working mostly from home with a handful of existing clients, but there will be some traveling required, which is cool.”
I followed Maysie through the downstairs as she turned on lights and removed covers from the rest of the furniture. It was a cute house. Small but quaint, with hardwood floors and lots of natural light. It was the perfect kind of house to start a family in.
“You guys are settling down, aren’t you? Jordan’s not going to go back out on the road is he?” I deduced, leaning against the counter in the kitchen as Maysie went through the cabinets, making sure there was nothing left behind by the previous tenants.
Maysie’s shoulders sagged a bit. “He’s really not sure. Things are up in the air with the label. But it doesn’t look good. Jordan and the others are sort of preparing themselves. And on some level, I think they’re all ready for the hammer to drop. To just know one way or another where they stand. This whole band thing was a dream. They never thought in a million years they would get as big as they did. It’s been one hell of a ride, Gracie, but at the end of the day, it proved to be more stress than I think any of them a
nticipated. It’s been hard. And with Jordan and me getting married and starting a family—”
I held up my hand. “Back up a second. Starting a family?”
Maysie smiled, her entire face lighting up. “I’m pregnant, G.”
“Oh my god!” I shrieked, all but launching myself at her. “What the hell? When did you find out?” I demanded.
“I had suspected for a few weeks, especially with how crappy I’ve been feeling. I took a test when we got back from the show over the weekend. It was positive. I’m waiting for Jordan to get back into town so we can go to the doctor’s appointment together.” Maysie put a hand on her flat stomach. “It’s early days. I can’t be more than a month along, but yeah, we’re having a baby.”
“Oh. My. God!” I squealed louder, grabbing her hands as we jumped up and down like little girls. “You’re having a baby! I can’t believe it!”
“I know. I can’t really believe it either. But Jordan is so excited. We both are. Which is why we wanted to get into our own place as soon as possible. We want stability. We want roots. We’re starting our family, G. We need something solid.”
“I’m just so happy for you, Mays. I can’t believe my best friend is going to be a mom!”
“You’re going to be an auntie. I guess it’s official. We’re getting old,” Maysie laughed and I bumped her hip with mine.
“Speak for yourself. There’s a lot of living left in these bones.” Then I stiffened. “So the guys are on their way back then?”
Maysie nodded, wiping a hand along the counter top. “They stopped for the night in Richmond but they should be back this evening after dropping off the bus. We’ll be at Garrett’s for the next few days but then we’re hoping to move in over the weekend.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “You up to helping me clean?”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked weakly, already thinking about other things.
“Not really,” Maysie giggled.
“So they’ll be back…” My voice drifted off.
Maysie gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. They’ll be back. Look, I’m not sure what happened between you and Mitch, but maybe with him being home it’ll be a good time to talk. To sort everything out,” she suggested.
Desperate Chances Page 12
