The music, the words talking about meeting your soul mate, that person that becomes your best friend, your lover, the one you want and need and love—it sank into me like lead. I felt the weight of it as his eyes wouldn’t blink. As he held me tighter and his face got closer, until finally both arms were around me, one up in my hair, and I buried my face in his neck and hugged him to me as tightly as I could. It was the music and the dark, I decided. It was like being outside at night, where we knew how to be. We knew that world. The need I felt for him was overwhelming, and I was aware of the trembling that I assumed was from me but we were so intertwined it was hard to tell. I knew the song was coming to an end, and somewhere in the back recesses of my mind I knew reality was about to descend and other people that I couldn’t recall names of at that moment were about to reenter my life. But right then, I would have given just about anything for that song to go on long loop and play over and over again.
If ever a man had it all, it would have to be me. Because ooooh . . . I love you . . .
It was over. Another song started to play, and it was another slow song, but it was as if we both knew we only had the one. Or was it just me? Had I imagined his response, his reactions? Had it been just a dance for him? I kept my eyes closed as I loosened my hold, and I felt his hands move slowly from my back up to cradle my face. That’s when I realized he was shaking, too. It wasn’t just me. It wasn’t just me. His lips were warm and soft on my forehead for one lingering second, and then I opened my eyes and looked up into his—and my chest felt like a bear sat on it.
His face looked so torn between sad and happy, frustrated and content. In the dark, I could still see the emotion in his eyes that looked like I felt.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said, his voice hoarse.
I couldn’t say anything. He backed away and then turned to head to the bar, where a steaming bag of something awaited him. I felt a familiar ache as I watched him pick it up and walk away, nodding to the women at my table on his way out. I felt numb, like he’d taken everything I had with him. Again.
That’s what it was, I realized. It was the same empty, sick, horrible feeling I had after we’d made love all night and then he’d left me. Something I never wanted to feel again. My God, I was twenty-one all over again.
“Are you okay?” asked a girl dancing next to me.
“I’m good,” I said, nodding. “Shit,” I muttered, scooping back my hair and forcing my feet to move. “Get it together, Emily.” I swiped under my eyes as I left the dance floor, where fifty other people were locked together oblivious of me. Unfortunately, my table was not. They were all staring at me as if I’d rolled out of a spaceship.
I grabbed my purse with an annoyingly shaky hand. “I’m gonna—go to the ladies’ room,” I said without meeting anyone’s eyes. “Back in a minute.”
“Mom?” Cassidy said, her voice thick with concern.
“Yeah, baby,” I said, flashing her a quick smile. “I’m okay, just need to freshen up a little.”
“Em,” Holly said, her voice low.
I met her eyes for just a second and squeezed her arm as I walked around her. “It’s okay.”
I held my head up as I made it across the room, passed the bathroom, and went straight out the back door to the patio no one was interested in because of the muggy cold. The chill hit me like a wall, making me suck in the air. I needed it. I needed to freeze everything up. To ice down everything that boiled inside, and numb the hurt that was clamping down on my heart.
Being wrapped up in him again was too much. Too good. Too much reminder of what he left me with and why I couldn’t trust him not to do it again. I rounded a corner of the wall and leaned my back against it, breathing in the cold air fast to stop the burn from coming back up.
But it wasn’t to be stopped. Everything stung on its way out. My skin felt hot, my eyes burned, my stomach threatened to upheave the nachos. My chest felt as if it would cave in from the lack of oxygen, as my sobs took over and beat the crap out of me. I slid down the rough brick wall till I was half sitting, half squatting on the ground.
Why the hell did he have to come back? If he didn’t want me then, fine. So why was he back now, acting as if he did? Holding me like that. Looking at me like that. Stirring up old shit.
“Emily!”
I jumped half out of my skin at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I scrambled unsuccessfully to get to my feet.
“Jesus, just—stay where you are, I’ll come to you,” she said, slowly getting to the ground. “Just takes me a minute.”
“I—just needed some air, Mom, I’m—”
“Oh, yeah, I can see you’re the picture of wonderful,” she said. “Everyone has meltdowns behind buildings when things are going well.”
“I know,” I croaked. “I must look like a lunatic.”
“Luckily I speak the language.” My mom took one of my hands. “You’re in love with that man.”
New tears. New burn. “Well, that made me feel better, thanks.” The hiccupping sobs returned. It was all kinds of fabulous that other people could see what I was killing myself to keep hidden. Of course, the latest floorshow probably hadn’t left much to the imagination. We danced like people in love.
“Damn him,” I hissed.
“Because he’s Cassidy’s father?”
I gasped so hard and deeply it hurt my throat. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to yell and be indignant and say how crazy and out of line that question was. But it was my mom, and no theatrics I could produce would fool her. She’d seen it all. So I let the rest of the burn come, the trembling, snot-filled, body-wracking sobs. I cried till I had nothing left.
“When did you know?” I asked finally.
“Tonight.”
“Just now?”
She shook her head. “At the table, when Bernie mentioned the resemblance, your face went ten shades of gray. I remember Ben Landry back then. Further back, even. He’s the one that used to meet you up on the roof at night when you were kids.”
My jaw dropped. “You knew that?”
“I also knew about his daddy, honey. So I figured you being his friend was a good thing. And if our roof got him away from that son of a bitch, then so be it.” She shrugged. “I poked my head out now and then, saw y’all eating chips and listening to music. Didn’t think I had anything to worry about?” she said at the end with eyebrows raised.
I pictured some of the later nights spent drinking beer and smoking joints, sneaking up and down that tree to swim at the river, prom night in my underwear, and the night in question. I was really glad she didn’t poke her head out those times.
I shook my head. “It happened after Kevin and I broke up that last time. We realized we had something—had always had something.” I lifted my shoulders and let them drop. “Then he disappeared. I got pregnant, was depressed, Kevin was persistent—”
“Oh—oh, lordy, Emily,” she said, squeezing my hand. “I remember you being so mopey and despondent. I thought it was over Kevin. Then when you turned up pregnant and he stood up for you—I thought you got what you wanted. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I closed my eyes. “Mom, I wasn’t sure. It could have been Kevin’s, too. We’d only been broke up a couple of weeks. I think I knew in my heart, but I didn’t really know till she was born.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And where did Ben go?”
“I don’t know. Never saw him again until he showed up at your front door the other day.”
She grimaced. “Oh, honey,” she said, letting a little chuckle loose. “I’m so sorry. Dear lord, no wonder you acted so crazy.” Her eyes widened. “Does he know about Cass?”
“No.”
She sat back and crossed her arms, wheels turning. “Oh, God, Kevin wears me the hell out, but he does love that girl.”
My eyes
teared up again. “I know. Which is why I keep avoiding everything. Old history with Ben, new history with Ben, anything that puts him and Cassidy together. Mom, I don’t know what to do anymore. He left me. He didn’t know there was a baby, but he left me and I made a life for us.”
“I know, baby.”
“I can’t rip her life up just because he came back.”
“No, but you don’t have to rip yours up, either,” she said, patting my hand. “You deserve a second chance.”
“Nana?”
“Oh, shit,” I said, pushing to my feet and hauling Mom up with me. I wiped at my face and scrubbed my hair out with my fingers.
Cassidy came around the corner with Holly and Bernie. “What the hell are you doing? And, Mom, what is—oh my God, what is the matter? You look horrible!”
“Wow, baby girl, thanks,” I said, attempting a laugh.
“Why are y’all outside in the dark?” she asked, her forehead creased in concern. “We started thinking y’all got mugged in the bathroom, then there was no one in the bathroom, and the bartender said he saw somebody go out back.”
“I tried to tell them it was no big deal,” Holly offered.
Mom glanced at Holly and then back to me, I guess figuring out that Holly was in on the crazies. “Well, it wasn’t,” she said. “Cass, your mom and I were just having a little mother-daughter time, and she’s on her period so she got a little—”
“Really?” I said.
“Oh, honeybugs, I understand that hormonal stuff all too well,” Aunt Bernie said. “I used to cry the paint off the walls.”
“Okay, let’s go in,” I said, not wanting any more of Aunt Bernie’s menstrual stories.
“You’re upset about Ben, aren’t you?” Cass said, grabbing my hand. “Mom, come on, I mean it was pretty clear he loves you.”
My throat closed up. “Let’s go in,” I croaked.
“You might want to go find that bathroom, now,” Mom said, wiping at my face.
“Yeah,” I said.
As we went in and they headed to the table, I hugged her around the neck before I veered off to the ladies’ room.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whispered.
I felt her chuckle. “Nothing to be sorry about, baby girl.” She backed up and looked me in the eye, and I could see the girl, the young woman she was in my flashbacks. “It’s okay, honey,” she said quietly. “We’ve got this.”
CHAPTER
14
I WAS IN A PICKLE, AS MY DAD USED TO SAY. HOLLY WOULD CALL it a conundrum. My mom would say I was in a bucket of shit. I leaned toward her version.
I was falling in love with him again. Just saying that in my head was enough to make me nuts. I couldn’t love him. I couldn’t put Cassidy in that place of too much contact, and I couldn’t put myself in the spot of trusting him again. The last time I let myself love him, he told me he’d be back and didn’t show till my mother hired him to work on her house. He said I’d had other plans. No. I didn’t leave my house for two days, waiting for him. I had no other plans. He was my plan.
I sat in my car, looking at Mom’s house, wanting to just go back home. I’d stayed home the day after the girls’ night, gone in to the office the day after that to attend my required meeting, and there it was, another day, and I couldn’t get out of my car.
Ben’s truck was there. Mom’s car was there. Big Blue, of course, was there. I didn’t want to see him, not then and not ever. I knew, at that point, that it could never be normal with us. If we shared oxygen somewhere, we were destined to draw together like magnets.
And I was quite done with the spanking my mother’s house was giving me. I felt twitchy just thinking of the walk in. I didn’t want it anymore. I thought the early stuff was cool, but I really didn’t see why it needed to show me what I’d already lived. I thought of asking Holly or Cass to get the remaining things from my room, but how would I justify that? And there were the general things still in the hallway closets and the attic. And the kitchen. And the garage.
I made a mental note to never move.
“Grow up, chickenshit,” I said, swinging my car door open. “Let’s go deal with this.”
And deal with it, I did. Opened the front door, making the knocker bounce once, and stood face-to-face with Ben.
“Hey,” I said, taking one step back. Then forward again. I refused to show weakness.
“Hey,” he said back, and then gestured at the door with another paintbrush. “I’m painting in here today. Guess I should lock the door.”
“Oh—yeah, that’d probably be good.” I thumped my own forehead on my way up the stairs. “Really, Emily?”
I didn’t even stop to see where Mom was or if she needed any help. I wanted to get my stuff done and go. I had crap in my own house that needed cleaning out and none of it needed to tell me anything.
I hesitated outside my old room, my hands on the facing. I did not want to cartwheel backward into space. Pretty much, there wasn’t anything I dreaded more at that minute, and so just the thought of stepping foot in there and hurtling back to watch myself wait for him in misery gave me a headache.
I put a toe in and followed gingerly behind it. “Crap, crap, crap,” I muttered, looking around. Still some boxes in the closet, and I needed to strip the bed and check the dresser and nightstand drawers. And probably get that furniture out of there, as well. Which would require help. Another day. Ugh.
I went straight to the closet and began pulling the few boxes out, stacking them in the hallway. The way I looked at it, if I could get everything into the hall, then that was less opportunity for time travel. Nothing worthwhile that I could remember had ever happened in the hallway.
I had made some headway, and was bent over in the bottom drawer of my dresser, when I felt him. I stood and turned around.
“Enjoying the view?”
He made a crooked little smirk. “Actually, yeah.”
“This isn’t the entryway,” I said, trying to look cute.
“Damn good thing you’re around then,” he countered.
I bit my lip as I smiled, intent on holding back the effect he had on me. He had that no-blinking-sorta-cocky-almost-smile thing going, and I felt my skin tingle.
“Yeah, I’m good for something,” I said, and halfheartedly pulled open a drawer full of someone’s extra clothing. My mom must have used it for storage. I met his eyes again. “What’s up?”
He walked through the room to the window, the window I refused to go near, and pulled a blind slat up to look outside. “You got to me the other night,” he said softly.
And not expecting that, my knees went dead. I gripped the dresser so I didn’t crumble like a stack of cards.
“That song,” he continued, turning to face me, letting the slat go. “The song, the dark—”
“Yeah—I know what you mean,” I said, shifting my feet like an eleven-year-old boy. “It’s like that’s our element or something.”
“And it makes me crazy.” He looked at the window. “One second, we’re one way, and the next second we’re at each other’s throats.” He turned back to me. “I don’t even trust my own instincts with you anymore.”
I laughed. “Which are?”
“Most of the time? To kiss you for days.”
I swallowed hard. “And the rest?”
“To run the other way.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Well, you’re good at that. I say go with your strengths.”
There, I thought. Be cocky right back. Give him something that will piss him off and make him go away. He didn’t go away. He blew out a breath and shook his head, instead. He paced the room and stared at me.
“You’re a piece of work, Em.”
“I’m a piece of work?” I walked slowly up to him, so close he had to back up a step.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“Me?” he said. “You’re all over the damn place.”
“Because I don’t trust you,” I said—not really intending to say it out loud until the words fell out of my mouth. “And I don’t trust myself around you.”
“Ditto,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes hard.
I narrowed mine to study him, closing the inches between us. “What the hell, Ben? We dance like lovers. You can’t catch a breath when I get close to you.”
He touched my face. “And you tremble when I touch you,” he said through his teeth, winding both hands into my hair and causing me to forget my words. “And then bolt.”
“Because you act so angry,” I said, feeling the pull of his mouth just centimeters away. “And then you look at me—”
“Like you look at me,” he finished. “And that’s why I have every right to be angry.”
“For what?” I said. “For saying things you didn’t mean? For leaving town? Leaving your family? Leaving me?” I said, feeling the hot tears surface. “What the hell do you have to be angry about?”
Even at the close proximity where I could feel his breath on my lips, I could see the confusion in his eyes. “Leaving you. I’m so sick of hearing that.” He let go of me and backed away, making all my nerve endings reach out. I needed to feel him close again. I followed him, but he stepped back again, putting two fingertips against my chest as he tilted his head a little. “You left me.”
That stopped me. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Before and Ever Since (9781101612286) Page 19
