At Last

by Mindy McKinley

  “Well, that’s blasphemy.” She put her sandwich down with a thunk and eyed her friend. “Ella is the queen.”

  “You are so weird.”

  “Yes, but I’m also right. Anyway, plans for the weekend?”

  Amy studied her. She always, always knew when Lula was lying. Mostly because Lula was terrible at it. But she seemed to decide to let it slide and Lula nearly collapsed with relief. “I’m going out with Chris again tonight but, honestly, I can’t even feel a little excited about it. He’s just so ...”

  “Two dates ago?” Lula finished. Amy had a tendency to zip through men like a flipbook. Whenever they showed serious interest, it was an automatic turn-off. Lula wondered what kind of asshole it would take to finally make her fall. Amy’s problem was every man she dated fell for her pretty curls, big blue eyes, and quirky humor. It never seemed like a very terrible problem to Lula, but she kept that to herself.

  “Hey now,” Amy countered, “four dates is pretty good for me.”

  True. “Are you going to tell him you’re not interested before or after dinner?”

  “Lu, I haven’t decided if I am interested or not.”

  “Four dates,” she answered, holding up as many fingers, “he’s well past his freshness date for you.”

  Amy tried to look affronted but settled back in her chair with a smirk. “After, of course. I want dinner and a great fuck first.”

  Lula nearly choked on her sandwich. “You are the worst.”

  Amy shrugged. “I’ll make it worth his while.” After poking around in her salad, she looked up. “What about you? Big plans?”

  “The biggest,” she lied, “I’m going to paint my guest bathroom, grade essays, and go see Nan on Sunday.”

  Her friend pulled a face. “I thought you were going to tell me you had a date. How is Nan, though?”

  “Hanging in there; she’s stubborn.” Her eighty-seven-year-old grandmother was the only family she had left, and her worsening dementia was threatening to take her away too. It left a sucking black hole in her stomach to think about being alone in the world once Nan’s mind was completely gone.

  Lula had been visiting her every Sunday since Nan had entered the memory care facility. Some days she was lucid and crystal clear, other days she hadn’t a clue who Lula was.

  “I’m sorry.” Amy’s voice was soft. “I know how hard it is for you.”

  She shrugged and smiled. “At least I have you to pester for the rest of our lives.”

  “That’s true.” Amy’s eyes widened with a thought. “You know, I could set you up with Jackson, he finally broke up with that cow Lisa. And then you could get married and actually BE family.”

  Lula snorted. “What are we, eight? I am not dating your brother.”

  “Come on, Lu, he’s not that bad ...”

  She eyed her with a raised brow and pointed look. “I am not dating Jackson, whom, if you recall, you once told me, and I quote, ‘had the musculature of an earthworm and a brain to match.’”

  Amy laughed out loud and crinkled her nose. “You’re right, he is gross. But you need to get out there and date, it’s been a year now.”

  “My vagina won’t expire,” she assured her. “It’s not as if I don’t use it.”

  Her friend’s eyes flew open. “Well, Lula Stanley!”

  She wiggled her eyebrow and smiled. And after her encounter with Dominic Adams, it had been especially busy. She didn’t bother to tell Amy that.

  Chapter 5

  Dominic

  “Dom,” his mother cooed, wrapping her arms around him when he arrived at her house Sunday evening. She kissed him on the cheek leaving a trademark pink smudge. “How are you?”

  “Hey, Mom.” He smiled at her. “I’m good, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. But you don’t look so good.” She peered into his face and wiped at his cheek. “You look tired.”

  “It’s just the research,” he lied, swatting her hand away gently. She didn’t need to know that he had spent every last minute of the last two nights fantasizing about Lula Stanley.

  “You’re just like your father.” Her voice was soft and full of pride. “Come on, your brothers are in the kitchen.”

  “Wait. Seb beat me here?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Believe me, I was just as surprised as you.”

  Dom followed his mom to the kitchen he had grown up in. He loved this house, its smells, its noises, its memories. Seeing his father beaming out from family photos was like a big bear hug.

  “Hey, Dom,” Mason greeted him from where he and Seb were seated at the kitchen table, legs stretched out, beers in hand. Mason always seemed so massive next to Seb. They were opposites: Mason was built like a tank, all muscles and stretched sleeves while Seb was built more like a long-distance runner, thin and sinewy. Dom fit squarely in the middle.

  “’Bout time,” Seb joked, throwing back a drink.

  “Funny,” he answered and grabbed his own beer from the fridge. He joined his brothers at the table while his mother fussed around the kitchen.

  “You look like shit, man,” Seb pointed out. “Been shacking up with that babe from Mo’s?”

  Mason’s eyebrow rose with interest and Dom slid down in his seat, hoping his face didn’t look as dark as it felt. “Nah.”

  “Wait a minute”—Mason sat forward—“there is a female, an actual, live, human woman that doesn’t want to sleep with Dominic Adams? I don’t believe it.”

  Seb laughed out loud. “Turned you down? Attagirl.” He raised his bottle to Lula.

  “Shut up,” Dom grumped, “it isn’t like that. I wouldn’t touch her even if she let me.” Oh he would burn in hell for that lie.

  Seb nearly lost the gulp of beer he had taken. “You have to be kidding me.” He looked at Mason to explain. “This woman is the most luscious thing I’ve ever seen, perfect ass, tits for days ...”

  “Seb!” their mother snapped. “That is no way to talk about a woman.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” he said, chastised. But then made a motion with his hands to indicate large boobs the second she turned around. “Plus, she has killer vocals. What’s not to like?”

  Mason snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure her vocals made a big impression.”

  “I work with her,” Dom cut in, taking a swig of his beer. Honestly, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “And I don’t mess with coworkers.” That is to say he’d never been tempted until now.

  “That’s smart,” his mom agreed, setting her famous cheesy potatoes on the table between them. “Dating co-workers can be ... confusing.”

  She swatted Mason’s hand away from the spoon. “Not yet.”

  Mason looked wounded. “You can’t expect to just set those there and not let me eat them,” he complained. “You haven’t made these in forever.”

  Dominic’s stomach shifted sickly. Mace was right. He looked around the table. Ham. Famous potatoes. Coconut cream pie. This was bad. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “what’s the occasion, Mom?”

  “No occasion.” She giggled then nervously ran her hands down her trim frame. She was wearing an outfit he hadn’t seen before and her hair was a slightly younger shade of blonde. “I’m just excited to have all three of my boys together for dinner.”

  “Bullshit.” This was from Seb.

  Dom kicked him under the table.

  Their mother sat down, giving them her look. “Language. Now, dig in before it gets cold.”

  The potatoes lasted all of three minutes and they fell into easy conversation as always. And as always, Dom felt the heavy, vacuous black hole his father’s death had left. He would never stop missing him. And that certainly wasn’t going to make the conversation he knew his mother wanted to have any easier.

  Just before she served the pie, he decided he couldn’t take the wait any longer. “So. Mom. What did you want to talk to us about?”

  “Oh.” She laughed nervously and set her fork down on her plate. “It’s nothing. Insignificant, really.�
��

  “Uh-huh.” Seb tipped his beer bottle toward his mother. “Spill it.”

  “It’s silly.”

  “Mom.” Mason sighed. “Just tell us what you want to say already.”

  With a long, deep breath she leaned back in her chair, eyes wide and unsure. She folded and re-folded her hands before she sat forward again, fidgeting like a little bird. Finally she pulled in another deep breath and said, “Okay.”

  Dom’s stomach clenched.

  “Well, I wanted you to know that I’ve been dating”—she flinched as she said the word “dating” as if afraid of backlash—“for several months now.”

  She picked at a piece of imaginary lint on her napkin.

  “I didn’t want to tell you about it until things were a little more serious.” She smiled a little to herself. “And well, Steve and I ...”

  “Who the fuck is Steve?” It came out of his mouth before he could stop it. His head was reeling. The room was actually fucking swimming.

  His mother’s face went ghost white. Her hands stilled, “Steve Richardson. From the agency. You’ve met him before.”

  Dom’s mind spun through all the faces and names in his head until it landed on Steve Richardson. Seemed like a decent guy, but that was before he was fucking his mother. His stomach lurched.

  “All right, Mom.” Seb cheered, raising his beer. “It’s about time. I’m happy for you.”

  “Well, thank you, Seb, he really has been quite wonderful ...”

  Her blush made Dom push up from the table so hard his chair fell over.

  Everyone gasped. Mason looked as stricken as Dom felt, Seb appeared slightly amused, and his mother looked close to tears.

  “Dominic,” his mother started, blinking quickly, “why are you so upset? I don’t understand.”

  Knowing she wouldn’t like his answer, and unsure if he could form a coherent one, Dom marched out of the kitchen and straight out the front door. He didn’t breathe again until cool fall air hit his face.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, climbing in his car. Why was this so hard to take? If it had been anyone else’s mother, he would have thought it perfectly normal, fantastic even. But it was his mother, his father’s wife. He couldn’t rationalize what he was feeling. It was silly, stupid, but very, very real.

  Lula

  “Hi, Nan,” Lu called softly. Her grandmother’s room in the memory unit was dark, with just a little of the late autumn sun coming through the window. “How are you today?” She hated the unsteady tinge in her voice but she couldn’t help it. She never knew if it was going to be a good or bad day, if her grandmother would know her. It was terrifying and deeply unsettling to know that she could walk in and have completely lost her grandmother to dementia.

  “My dearest, Lula.” Her grandmother smiled, popping on the lamp that was next to her. Her long white hair was smoothed into a braid and she sat cuddled in her chair beneath a pile of blankets. She reached out toward her. “How wonderful to see you. Come give me a kiss.”

  “Nana.” She sighed in relief. “It’s good to see you too.” She took the weathered hands she was offered and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. She loved this woman so fiercely it hurt her chest. She brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “How are you today?”

  “Wonderful,” she said with a smile, “now that you’re here. I was just telling my nurse Barbara that you visit me every Sunday and that makes it my favorite day.”

  “Ah, Nan”—she sank into the sofa next to her, close enough to clasp her hand—“it’s my favorite too.”

  “And today is extra special.” She had a playful smile Lula rarely saw anymore and spoke as if she had a secret.

  “Oh really? And why is that?”

  “Well, John Wayne is playing on the TV all night, that’s what.”

  Lula laughed. “All night, huh?”

  She nodded. “Did you know they call him The Duke?”

  Lula giggled. Nan had always had the hots for John Wayne. And she had to admit, depending on the movie, he wasn’t too bad on the eyes. He was no Dominic Adams, but she supposed she couldn’t be too picky sitting in a room with her grandmother.

  Dammit, she shook Dominic from her head for the thousandth time that day. He just kept popping back in like a bad neighbor. A very bad, very sexy neighbor. Oh God. The memory of his thumb brushing against her wrist made her nether regions twinge in a way they had no right doing. She had to clear her throat.

  “Are you all right, Lula dear?” Her grandmother asked.

  “Yep,” she lied, “just a little throat tickle.” She cleared her throat again as if to prove it because Nan always knew when she lied. Thankfully, she had learned at a young age that the only effective move at that point was to distract.

  Thank you, John Wayne.

  “So,” she said, switching on the TV, “what movie do we get to see first?”

  “The Quiet Man,” Nan breathed out in reverence.

  “Oh, your favorite,” Lula cooed, relieved that she had successfully diverted her question. “Mine too.” The story was beautiful, of course, but the young-John-Wayne-caught-in-the-rain-in-a-flimsy-shirt scene might be what really did it for her. Nan too.

  “You’ve got good taste, my love. Just like me.” She smiled at the TV for a moment then added, “Your mother, on the other hand ...”

  Lula perked up. Nan never had a bad thing to say about her mother. “What do you mean, Nan?”

  “Well, your father for instance ...” She laughed. “I knew how that was going to end before it even started.”

  Lula’s heart thudded. No one had ever said anything about her father. Not. A. Word. She didn’t even know his name. Her mother had erased every bit of information about him, and no matter how much she had begged, pleaded, they both just pretended that he never existed. Her mind was reeling.

  “What was that about my father?” she asked it slowly, worried if she sounded too frantic Nana would snap out of whatever mood made her mention it.

  Nan sighed and turned toward her a bit. “Well, he was just too much of a mover, a doer.” She rolled her hand slowly through the air. “He never wanted to be in one place too long. Even if it meant leaving you and your mother. And he was mean as a dog,” she added before smiling. “See, bad taste.”

  “Nana,” she said carefully, heart pounding, “do you remember my father’s name?”

  This was the closest she had ever been to this information and knowing who he was could change everything. She wouldn’t have to face being alone. He might have family, she could have siblings. Her heart stuttered deeply. These were things she had dreamt of since childhood.

  “Oh, I don’t know ... that was so long ago,” she trailed off, turning her attention to the remote control. She smiled as the image of young John Wayne appeared on the screen. “There he is.”

  “Nan,” she pressed again, careful not to sound panicked even though this might be her only chance to ask. “Do you remember his name?”

  “Who, dear?”

  She curled her fists and took a deep breath. “My father, do you remember his name?”

  “Joe,” she answered and then laughed. “That’s all I can remember. Just Joe.” She looked at Lula with faraway eyes. “But I do remember his beautiful eyes, that’s where yours came from, Tallulah. The only good thing he ever did.” She smiled sadly. “He wasn’t around long enough for me to remember his last name.”

  Joe. She settled back into the sofa as the information washed over her. Her father’s name was Joe. It was small, but it felt like everything.

  Her brain began spinning through all the ways this information could help her, all the research she could start as soon as she got home. She tingled with such excitement that it was nearly impossible to stay still, but for now, she willed her heart to stop pounding and held the hand of her fading grandmother as they settled in to watch Maureen O’Hara and The Duke.

  Chapter 6

  Dominic

  Dom sent another call from his moth
er to voicemail and threw the phone onto the passenger seat as he drove to school the next morning. He knew he was being childish. So be it.

  Between Lula’s red lips and his mother’s announcement he had gotten zero sleep. Zero. He hadn’t even bothered to get into bed.

  Instead, he had delved into his research so fully that his morning alarm scared the shit out of him. It took a cold shower and a full pot of coffee just to get his body moving.

  His brain hurt. He wasn’t sure what to do about any of it. He imagined that fucking Miss Stanley would go a long way to helping, but picturing her ass-up and ready to take him only made him growl in frustration and punch the accelerator.

  He pulled into the school lot, threw his car into park, and just sat there. What did he do now? What was the best tactic with Lula? Ignore or advance? Usually he just went after women he wanted without a second thought, but this was different. They worked together and he didn’t want her long term. He didn’t want anyone long term. He could only imagine the shit-storm of awkwardness that would befall them once the relationship ended. Work was his safe space and he didn’t want a weekend fling to upend that.

  With a sigh, he pushed the car door open and headed into the building. At least he could teach. It was the one thing he knew that could take his mind off Lula, even if for a few short moments.

  The smell of the building and the energy that buzzed around the hallways energized him a little. He made a point to stop and chit-chat with a few students, argued Chicago Baseball with the Science teachers, and mainlined more caffeine than a human should ingest.

  It worked. For the first four classes. After that he found himself falling asleep over his sandwich while Chaz yammered about some incident in his third hour class. All he could make out was “insubordinate” and “when I was that age.”

  The rest of the day did not improve. Aside from the exhaustion that hung over him like a heavy blanket, if he allowed his eyes to close for even a moment, fantasies of Lula’s mouth on his cock would send him reeling back into pubescent hell.