“That’s it?”
“Flowers couldn’t hurt.”
“Any particular kind?”
“There ain’t no designated apology flowers.”
“Well, I can shell out a few bucks for flowers and say a few words. Problem solved.”
Moot looks at me for a moment, and I know he disagrees. I wait for him to say something, but he chooses to return to his steak.
“You need to enjoy life more,” Moot finally says when his plate is clean. “Stop trying to control every damn thing, and just smell the damn roses.”
“Do you think roses are the kind of flowers women want?”
“You live in the same world as me, man. Why are you asking questions like you’re an alien new to the fucking planet?”
“I don’t apologize to women.”
“Or anyone.”
Sighing, I nod. “True. So I don’t have any experience with this situation.”
“All you got to do is ask yourself what you’d want in the situation and then feminine-up the answer a little.”
Leaning back, I think about what I’d want if Candy came to me and apologized. Somehow, I don’t think she’s sitting at home wishing I’d give her a blowjob.
I imagine knocking on her door. She answers wearing something sloppy and probably pink. Her hair might be damp from her evening bath. I remember her saying she likes to take bubble baths and pretend she’s an evil queen washing away the troubles of her reign. When she told me that, I thought she was drunk at work. Candy noticed my expression and laughed until she was bright red. Then she ran to the bathroom to keep from peeing herself.
Shaking off the memory, I imagine I’m at her door, and Candy is frowning like I smell bad. I hand her the flowers and say the words. What is the end game to that setup? Does she forgive me and I stay the night and then…
What do I want from Candy? This blowup we had might allow me to get her back as an employee and nothing more. I have the opportunity to change the dynamics. If I do, Candy will adjust. She’s stronger than most women and won’t cry herself to sleep over me.
Despite my certainty she’d never stoop to such theatrics, I let myself imagine her crying in her pillow over me breaking her heart. I like this image better. She should be sad over losing me. I’m the best fucking thing that ever happened to her. Well besides her kids, and that’s the real dig for me.
If I let myself need Candy, I can’t only need her. I will have to learn to need her kids, and that’s a lot of fucking need for me to suddenly endure.
Can I love another man’s children? My father did it, but only because he loved my mother. Plus he knew me as a baby and a part of him probably hoped I was his. Once he knew I wasn’t, he had already grown accustomed to me.
Do I love Candy enough to love her children as my own?
Yes, I love Candy. No big shock for me on that realization. She’s been under my skin since she walked into my office and called me an asshole to my face. The woman is the right kind of beautiful, smart, and tough. Those ingredients are in plenty of women, but never in the right amounts to make me consider apologizing for doing nothing wrong.
Candy is the one, but I don’t know if I can be the one for her. I like my life. I want her, but the rest is more complicated.
So I imagine myself at her doorway, and she forgives me and takes the flowers and then what? She has me come inside, and I spend the night and wake up to the sounds of children making too much noise. Is that what I really want? Once I open that door, I can’t close it easily.
I’m not a coward, but I am a pragmatic man. I can’t allow my heart to run the show. I have to think long term. Not for Candy or me, but for the twins, I need to be certain. Kids don’t bounce back from rejection.
I again see myself outside Candy’s door. This time, I imagine her angrily shutting the door on me or worse taking the flowers and coolly saying she’ll see me at work the next day. I don’t know if I could accept her indifference.
So I stand in front of her door with a bouquet of pink roses in one hand and a bouquet of red roses in the other since I couldn’t decide which one she’d like better. I knock on the door of the rental house and wait to apologize even though I don’t think I’m wrong.
Candy answers, wearing a flannel nightgown. Her expression tells me nothing. I’m flying blind, but I utter the horrible three words I say to nearly no one.
“I am sorry.”
TWENTY NINE - CANDY
The kids aren’t thrilled to return to school tomorrow. My mind is searching for a new job. Cricket offers to find a job and work rather than going to school. She even suggests I could attend school for her.
“No one will notice. The staff is a bunch of morons,” she says, sounding like Hayes.
Sunday night comes, and they finally get a hold of their grandparents after nearly a week of missing them.
“Where have you been?” Chipper asks the laptop where their grandparents’ faces beam back at them.
His grandmother wipes her cheeks since she’s always concerned she’s wearing too much rogue. “We took a quick trip to Canada.”
“To see Communists?” Chipper asks.
Grandma Edelle looks around confused. “Communists?”
Cricket nods. “Mom’s boyfriend said Canada is full of Communists.”
“How is school?” Grandpa Charles asks.
“We got suspended last week,” Chipper announces, and I roll my eyes at how proud he sounds.
“Why?” Grandma Edelle cries.
Cricket leans into the camera on the laptop and says conspiratorially. “It’s mostly politics.”
“They got into a fight,” I explain, leaning into view. “Someone was picking on Chipper and Cricket stuck up for him. The principal made a big deal even though no one got hurt.”
“Oh, well, public schools can be rough,” Grandma Edelle says, looking awkward.
Grandpa Charles adds, “Perhaps your mother can look into a private school option.”
“Mom’s thinking about homeschooling us,” Cricket says immediately, and I pray she doesn’t mention how I quit my job. “I think having more attention would help me get better at math.”
Her grandparents buy her bullshit and nod in unison. They are totally duped by their darlings. I wouldn’t be surprised if they think the kids are incapable of lying. If only they knew…
After the kids finishing quizzing Grandma and Grandpa about their Canada trip, they show off our new adopted cat. I think the grandparents finally realize we aren’t moving back when they see the terrified striped cat pressed against the screen. I know they miss the twins, but this is our home now even if I have no way to pay for any of it.
The moment the kids tell their grandparents goodbye and hang up, I sigh with relief at how they didn’t rat me out.
“Do you think you can work at McDonald’s?” Cricket asks, turning on the TV. “We could get discounts on hamburgers.”
“You don’t want me working at a fast food place. I wouldn’t make enough money to keep up with your Xbox subscription.”
“We’ll ask Grandpa to get it for us. They can pay for everything, and you can stay home and be our teacher.”
“Ah, to be young,” I tease, patting their heads. “You have a half hour of TV before bed.”
While the kids entertain themselves, I sit at the kitchen island and think about Hayes. I think about calling him nearly every fucking second I’m awake. I dream of calling him too. Despite the nearly painful need to hear his voice, I hold my ground.
The knock on the front door sends the cat into a panic spiral. The kids turn to me like we’re under attack because apparently visitors are a sign of the apocalypse. I wave off their concerns and casually reach for the bat on my way to the door. Checking the peephole, I see the man I’ve been craving for days.
Both of Hayes’s hands grip bouquets. I admire how he covers his bases by buying two different colors, but I don’t want flowers. I need him to understand I come from a long l
ine of people who take shit from people and ask for more. I refuse to be one of them. My kids need to know they can say no too. So I told Hayes no and walked away even if it broke my heart. Flowers won’t fix our situation.
“I am sorry,” he says like someone has rammed their hand up his ass and turned him into a dummy.
“For what?”
Hayes frowns, and I realize he thought the words would be enough. He’s so arrogant and stubborn. Two qualities I normally find quite attractive in the giant asshole.
“For upsetting you,” he finally says.
Narrowing my eyes, I take one of the bouquets. “Are you sorry for what you did to upset me or just sorry that I got upset about what you did?”
“Whichever answer that makes you happy.”
Hayes stares at me with his dark eyes, and I know he doesn’t feel a bit sorry for what happened. He just wants things fixed. I’d slam the door in his face if he didn’t look a little like a sad puppy.
“You can come inside and plead your case,” I say, stepping back.
Hayes fills the hallway with his size, and I’m relieved he doesn’t bang his head on the doorway. The kids look up from the TV and stare at him. He stares back at them. I don’t know who would win the contest if I didn’t break it up by gesturing for Hayes to follow me into the kitchen.
I have nothing to put the flowers inside, so I use two large cups. Studying the flowers now sitting on the counter, I think about the man behind me.
“So you liked the pink ones more,” he says.
“How do you figure?”
“You took them first.”
“Only because you looked ready to break them in half.”
Hayes’s expression shifts from sad puppy to junkyard dog. “So I’m the bad guy with the flowers too?”
“Yes. You are always the bad guy.”
Hayes glares at me. “I apologized.”
“Yes, you did, but you didn’t mean it.”
“Exactly. That’s why it means so much.”
I nearly laugh at his exasperated expression. Instead, I gesture for him to continue. “Explain.”
“If I were sorry, it’d be easy to apologize. I did something wrong, and I should apologize. Simple. Except I don’t think I was wrong, yet I’m still apologizing. I’m doing it anyway because your feelings matter more than mine. Doesn’t that make me the fucking nice guy here?”
I consider his words and shrug. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
Hayes takes my words as a sign of agreement and moves closer. “So we’re good?”
“Good for what?”
Hayes stops and frowns at me. “Do you want your job back?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want anything else?”
“I don’t want to be Honey, so where does that leave us?”
“I said I was sorry. Does Asshole Andrew apologize when he isn’t wrong?”
“You were wrong, though.”
“I yelled at you. How is that wrong? I yell at everyone. I’ve been yelling at you since before you started. Why are you suddenly changing the rules?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“Sometimes I can’t deal with you yelling at me.”
“It’s harmless shit. I yelled at birds the other night. They survived and so will you.”
“What about them?” I ask, pointing at where the kids watch TV. “Think they can handle having you yell at them?”
“I didn’t yell at them, did I?”
“Not yet.”
Hayes waves his hand dismissively. “I won’t yell at them. They’re good kids.”
“And I’m a good assistant and don’t deserve to be yelled at.”
“First of all, you suck at your job half of the time, and you know that. No one should spend that much time on Amazon while at work.”
“I like to window shop,” I say, shrugging.
“You are a great assistant the other half of the time. One thing you’re great at is knowing I’m full of hot air when I yell at you.”
I shrug again, not budging. Frustrated, Hayes glares at me for nearly a minute and then he has a light bulb moment. I see in his eyes how he’s figured something out.
“You weren’t thinking like my assistant when you threw your fit.”
“I did not throw a fit.”
“You were thinking like my… girlfriend or woman or whatever. You weren’t thinking about your boss yelling at you, but your man and that’s why you got your panties in a bunch.”
“I don’t want to end up like Honey. She got beaten down by Douche’s crap until she couldn’t tell him no,” I say, crossing my arms defensively.
“That’ll never happen to you. I’m not him, and I don’t want you beaten down. I want you to be you. I just don’t want you making me change either.”
“You can’t yell at my kids,” I say, uncrossing my arms and stepping closer. “I don’t want them learning to eat shit when they’re young. It’s in their blood to make a habit of getting stepped on. I want them to grow up expecting to be treated well.”
“This isn’t about your kids. It’s about you.”
“I know, but I can’t explain why your yelling upset me that day. It just did. You made me feel like shit, and I don’t let people treat me that way.”
Hayes blinks a few times and then something shifts in his gaze. Oh, boy, I realize, he’s turning on the charm.
Erasing the few feet between us, Hayes reaches out and caresses my messy hair. “We need a safe word. That way, when you’re feeling especially sensitive and I'm especially loud you can let me know before I end up in trouble.”
“A safe word, huh? Sounds sexy.”
Hayes smiles softly, and I realize he’s really laying on the sweet guy shtick. I might be done for if he keeps it up.
“What if I hadn’t agreed to let you come inside?” I ask. “Would you consider me your enemy? Kick me out of the house? Ruin me like you ruin your enemies?”
“Even if you did me wrong, I’d never see you as my enemy,” he whispers. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. You cleaned up my office. Most importantly, you make me laugh, and people rarely make me laugh. You’re a one of a kind woman, so you’ll never be my enemy.”
Rolling my eyes, I grumble, “Asshole.”
“I want you to know,” he says ever so softly, “that I never pull this nice guy bullshit on anyone, but I’m doing it for you.”
Hayes leans down, and I notice a hint of hesitancy in his kiss. He worries I’ll cut him short. Our lips meet for a moment, maybe two, but I don’t allow the kiss to deepen. As much as I want to taste Hayes, the kids can see us if they turn around. Knowing them, they’ve been peeking since he arrived.
“I missed you,” I say, pulling away. “I really did.”
“Would you have broken down and apologized if I hadn’t?”
“Probably, but I would have lasted longer than you. I’m just made out of stronger mettle.”
“Funny,” he murmurs before following my gaze to where the twins now fully stare at us.
“We need a word for when Hayes is getting too loud,” I say, focusing them on something besides Mom and a man kissing in the kitchen. “What’s a good word to use?”
Chipper looks at his sister who is staring at Hayes. “How about Doritos?”
Cricket grins and focuses on her brother. “Yeah, Doritos.”
I walk into the living room and grin. “Okay, Doritos, it is.”
“Inside joke?” Hayes asks, seeming awkward, which isn’t a good look on him. The man should reek of bravado, but he’s feeling out of place.
“What do you get when you mix a potato with a tomato?” I ask, and the kids snicker.
“I don’t know.”
“Doritos,” the twins announce.
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s a joke they came up with.”
Hayes opens his mouth, and I suspect he plans to poop on their parade. Fortunately, his brain works faster than his mout
h.
“Funny,” he says instead.
“Are you staying here?” Cricket asks Hayes.
“I don’t know.”
“You can sleep in my bed,” Chipper offers.
“Yeah, and we’ll sleep with Mom,” Cricket adds because Hayes isn’t the only one who likes to poop on people’s parades.
I caress Hayes's shoulder. “He’s too big for your bed, but that was a nice offer.”
“Maybe I should go,” Hayes says without making any effort to sell his words.
“Or you could stay the night.”
“Grownups have sleepovers?” Cricket asks like a smartass.
Narrowing my eyes at my daughter, I grumble, “Finish watching your show so you can get ready for bed.”
Chipper and Cricket turn around, but I hear them whispering to each other. Hayes joins me in the kitchen where I set out the rules.
“No sex.”
“Ever? I don’t think I can agree to that.”
Grinning, I glance at the kids. “I think I’ve done a good job raising them to be emotionally healthy. I don’t want them hearing anything and being horribly traumatized.”
“You do get very loud sometimes. Not that I blame you.”
“You growl like a fucking bear. They’ll think I’m under attack.”
Hayes grins. “I’m putting that role-playing idea aside for later. So should I stay or not?”
“Can you stay without having sex?”
“Of course, I’m perfectly in control of myself. You’re the one who insists on coming repeatedly.”
Studying him, I whisper, “This would be the first night we’ve spent together.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Said the guy who brought me flowers and apologized and nearly begged for a second chance.”
Hayes shrugs. “You remember that any way you need to, babe.”
Soon, the kids finish their show, and I take them upstairs. They brush their teeth, and we sit in their room for nearly a half hour talking about Hayes and if I have a job now. I tell them not to worry. I’m super smart and can handle anything. Chipper believes me more than Cricket, but they both cuddle up in the bed with grins on their faces.
Downstairs, Hayes waits for me. He dwarfs the couch with his long legs, and I admire the sight of him stretched out watching the news. I’ve really missed the asshole. Not enough to swallow my pride yet, but I knew the time was coming. Hayes might be infuriating, but he is my guy, and I plan to keep him.
Junkyard Dog Page 14
