“Jesus,” Shane breathed, absorbed, disgusted.
“I missed. Well, I hit him, but not where I’d wanted. My eyes had swelled and I could barely see. My hands were shaking. I got him in the shoulder, but I missed his heart. Too high. You see, the heart’s a little lower than you think.
“He cursed for a few seconds. I just stood there, in shock. We both started to come around at the same time. I made a run for the door. I was a few feet ahead of him, shouting for security. Bunch of pansies, goons, you know? They only listened to Tommy, always turned a deaf ear when we were fighting or they’d lose their jobs. But they came running this time. Not sure if they’d heard the gunshot or perhaps they knew he was going to kill me this time. But they came.
“Didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t fast enough, never was. He shouldered me. I went down hard. The fall caused internal damage. The pain was…” I rubbed my back, recalling the severity, “I don’t remember much after that. He kicked me a few times before security stopped him, but I don’t remember feeling it. There was already so much pain. You can’t even think around it. It just…envelopes you.”
“What a sick fuck.”
“I won’t argue with you.”
“Your mother, she wanted to cover it up.” He said this as if surprised, even after witnessing my mother’s rebuke firsthand.
“Well, I was overreacting, and then I fell down the stairs. Luckily Tommy’s fist was there to help break the fall.”
“What about your father? What did he say about all of this?”
“He passed away about a month after my wedding. Heart attack. But he never knew. Tommy threatened to take the restaurant and drain him dry if I told.”
Walking, we’d ended up at the Giggleberry Fair. I wanted to pick up something for Levy. It was a small play place with a carousel and video games, but no real toyshops, apparently. I peered through the window, watching the children run from one attraction to the next, their faces bright with laughter.
Behind me, the sound of pattering feet caught my attention. A small girl with white blonde pigtails came toddling down the sidewalk, her cheeks pink from the cold. Her toe caught the gap in the sidewalk. She tumbled down on her hands and knees. Out of sheer reaction, I reached and set her back on her feet. Without a second glance, she went on her way, running for the doors of the fair. Her parents smiled as they passed and said a quick thank you, rushing after their child.
“Is that why you work in childcare?”
“Hmm?” I turned, looked up at Shane. He was studying me, watching me observe the children.
“You can’t have children, so you surround yourself with them.”
“It’s sort of masochistic, isn’t it? I guess I’m a glutton for punishment, but I can’t help myself. I’ve always wanted a big family, lots of kids. Growing up, I had a friend that had five sisters and brothers. They fought. That’s a given, but for the most part, they were one big unit. The dinner table was loud, fun. They talked about everything and anything: their day at school, homework, boys, girls…”
“They thought nothing of it.”
“No.”
“Jake had Mattie to watch out for, and Carter and Tate were inseparable. I was always the odd man out, not that I didn’t prefer it that way. It’s just that they used to house hop at dinner, Tate’s house one night, Carter’s the next and Jake’s the third, but I never had anyone over. My father didn’t cook, and he’d just make everything uncomfortable with his questions.”
“That was my mother. My father was the typical Italian. He liked to feed people. At least once a week, my friends and I would go to Nonna’s after school and he would put out this spread that could feed an army.” I snorted to myself in bafflement. “Sometimes I wonder how my parents ever clicked. They’re so entirely different.”
“Opposites attract. Perhaps he liked her sophistication—”
“And she liked his money. My father knew people. He could turn a pile of shit into gold.” Leaving the children to play, I climbed the incline of the sidewalk. Shane walked at my side, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. I liked Tommy’s sophistication. He was smooth, polished. His confidence gave him a certain appeal. He had that whole Marlon Brando thing going on.”
“Marlon Brando?”
“At his youth, Marlon Brando had this raw sexuality. He was masculine and confident with these deep, sexy eyes. Most modern day actors don’t hold a candle to his appeal. Haven’t you ever seen A Streetcar Named Desire?”
“No, but I’ve seen The Godfather. All I can picture is his cheeks stuffed with cotton balls.” Lifting his hand, he pointed to the window of the store as we approached. “What about this place? They have stuffed animals.”
I lifted my head, peered at the sign overhead. “It’s a pet store. They’re chew toys.”
“Tomāto tomäto. They’re still stuffed animals.” Stepping around me, Shane tugged the door open and waited for me to pass through.
“I’m not buying Levy a dog toy.”
“Why not? The kid puts everything in his mouth.”
For the sake of the merchant’s utility bill, I walked through the door. The fliers, which were taking flight from the draft, settled down to a lazy flutter as the door drifted closed.
“Because they’re made for dogs.”
“Do you really think that they’re made less in quality because they’re intended for a dog?” Shane argued. “A child might put it in his mouth. A dog…it’s definitely going in his mouth. No doubt about it.”
“If you say so.”
Browsing the shelf above him, he pulled down a large, black stuffed dog. “Look at this one. Tell me it’s not just as good as a kid’s toy.” He shoved the thing in my face, brushing its soft fur against my cheek. “Take me home, Emmy, take me home,” he trilled. I smacked it away, laughing at his antics.
Behind me, I heard a curious, “Woof.”
“Oh wow,” Shane said, smiling. Stuffed dog forgotten, he breezed around me, his attention riveted on the large puppy in the wire crate. He was white with large black spots. His eyes were bright blue. His tail was wagging a mile a second, strumming against the sides of the crate with gusto. “Woof!”
“Oh my,” I agreed. “He’s adorable, huge, but adorable.” There were two, actually. The second, hidden behind his larger companion, stood from his fleece bed and joined in, wagging his tail. I couldn’t resist talking at them in gibberish.
“They’re Great Danes.” I turned, found a small, older woman with dark hair and a kindly face smiling at Shane and me. “Would you like to take them out?”
I promptly shook my head. “Oh, no—”
“Yeah,” Shane interjected. “Can I?”
“I don’t see why not,” the woman said. “It’s a slow day. Haven’t been too many visitors, but let me lock the door so no one opens it, just in case. Better safe than sorry. Those two will run like thieves.”
As soon as the bolt hit home, Shane pulled the peg from the crate and let the door swing open. The two dogs bolted out of the gate like two thoroughbred racehorses. They had the legs to compete with them. They were long and lanky and stumbled more than carried them. Head over heels, they tumbled across the floor, rolled a complete cycle and jumped back to their feet.
“They’re insane,” I declared.
“They’re awesome,” Shane disagreed. At the sound of his voice, they circled and came running in his direction. The larger puppy tackled him, nearly knocking him to the floor, but the smaller of the two stopped and nosed around then squatted and proceeded to pee on the glorified Depends pad.
“Oh my gosh!” I crooned, “What a good girl! Girl? I think you’re a girl.” She was squatting, so it had to be a girl, no?
“Em,” Shane commented. “I think you’re supposed to do that when they go outside.”
“It’s a training mat,” I explained. “When you let them out of the cage you’re supposed to take them right outside, but we obviously can’t do
that here.”
“You’re a dog owner?” the woman inquired.
“No, sadly, I just watch a lot of television.” The puppy in question finished her business, preening over my commendations. She curled her body sideways, her tail wagging as she ambled over and sat on my feet. Unable to resist, I crouched and scratched behind her ear. “What a smart girl you are. You like that, don’t you?” Staring up at me with bright blue eyes, her tongue struck out and lapped my face. Laughing, I wiped my face, but she only licked me again.
“So unfair,” Shane complained, teasingly. “I practically had to beg to get that far with you.”
“She’s much cuter than you are.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.”
I laughed softly and let the puppy bathe me in kisses.
“Carter wasn’t lying, was he? It’s the hair?”
“Your hair is irrelevant.”
“I’ll cut it.”
“Donate it so it’s not a complete waste. I’d hate to see you cut it for no good reason.”
“You’re a cruel woman.”
“I’m honest.”
“You’re breaking my heart.” He wore a smile, but I knew he wasn’t joking. I hated that I was hurting him, but leading him on wasn’t going to help.
Lifting the puppy in my arms, I stood and gave her one last scratch then placed her back into the crate. Shane helped the larger pup into the crate and closed the door before he could escape. The male, Shane’s pup, cocked his head to the side and stared confusedly over his re-incarceration, but the smaller one began to whimper in protest. She pawed at the bars of the door as I walked away.
As I browsed the shelves, Shane stayed behind to talk with the woman from the animal rescue. I could feel my emotions creeping up on me again. Guilt warred within me, in part over Shane’s persistent flirtations and in part over the puppy’s cries. The sound of her lament sparked something in my maternal nature.
Perhaps I’d stepped out precipitately. I should’ve had Shane drive me home instead. The meal had helped, but I still wasn’t feeling one hundred percent. Choosing a stuffed toy at random, I headed for the cashier. Shane was rooting through his wallet, still occupied with the woman from the rescue. I paid for my purchase, stepped outside for some fresh air, and lifted my face to the overcast sky.
Behind me, the tiny bell on the door jingled. Shane stepped to my side. “A giraffe?”
“As far as stuffed animals go, it’ll work.”
“You’re going to buy him more?”
“Something boyish.”
“Boyish?”
“Trains or Matchbox cars or something that he can push around and go ‘Vroom’.”
“I’m sure Tate will have that covered. Kid’s going to be spoiled as shit.”
“Kids should be spoiled as shit.”
“True.” Shane panned the area. “Where to next?”
I pointed to the path at my right. “This way, I guess, since we came from the other direction.” We set off down the path in silence, another rejection hanging in the air awkwardly between us. “I’m sorry about that in there.”
“You don’t need to apologize every time you cut me down, Em. Marshall warned me that it wasn’t going to be easy.”
“Did he? What else did he tell you?” While Marshall didn’t know about Giovanna, he knew a great deal. He was a good guy. We’d talked on the phone many times, and at great length. Discussing my past helped him to understand that he couldn’t have saved his sister. He needed to get over the guilt.
“What else did Marshall tell me?” Shane repeated. Smiling vaguely, he scrubbed his chin. “That he would cut my dick off with a butter knife if I hurt you.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting. “Jesus. Why a butter knife? That’s rather specific.”
“I suppose he thought it might take longer.”
“I suppose he would be right.”
“Might take all day.” I glanced at Shane, ready to object over the alleged size of his penis, but I found him smiling in good humor.
I rolled my eyes, but my lips turned up in a smirk. “I don’t know how I’ll sleep at night. I’ll be tortured with thoughts of what I’m missing.”
“So don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Deprive yourself.”
“Shane.”
“Em.”
“Don’t you take no for an answer?”
“Obviously not.” Taking my hand, he pulled me to a stop, tilted my chin up when I refused to look at him. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”
“And when that’s no longer enough?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it. For now, I’m living in the present.”
“And hoping for a future.”
“Praying like a mother fuckin’ madman for the chance of a future.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I’m not asking you to forget your daughter, Em. I’m just asking you to give life a chance.”
“Give you a chance.”
“Give life a chance,” Shane repeated. He smiled crookedly. “You might think I’m the mother fuckin’ devil in a day or a year, but in the meantime, at least you’ll have lived a little instead of pickling yourself in that box of mothballs.”
My expression shifted, taking offense. Shane realized his gaffe a moment too late. “Damn it! I didn’t mean it like that. Fucking words, Em, I keep telling you I’m not always good with words!”
“I haven’t exactly been wasting away,” I pointed out, walking away. Shane followed, hot on my heels. “I’ve had other…interests.”
“Right, the Farmer in the Dell.”
I sped up my pace rather than shouting obscenities. While the place wasn’t thrumming, it wasn’t deserted either.
“Em…?” Shane pleaded. “Come on, Em!”
“Take me home, Shane.”
“Fuck!” The sound of his footsteps faded as he fell back. I kept walking, insulted and annoyed. “Emelia!”
At the sound of my given name, I whirled. The fire in my veins fizzled as I took in Shane on his knee in the center of the path. “Don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you doing?” I hissed. The few people shopping stopped and stared. A young girl in a red knit cap, giggled as she passed. She stole once last glance before she disappeared around the corner.
“Apologizing.”
“Will you please get up!”
“Not until you’ve forgiven me.”
“Fine, I forgive you! Now get up!”
“I’m not convinced.”
“Shane!”
“Ok! Ok! Come help me up then. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Too much bass drum.” Beckoning me over, he curled his fingers in my direction.
Sucker that I am, I backtracked to help him up. Anything to stop the spectacle he was causing. It was embarrassing, really. Approaching, I offered him my hand, which he grasped and pulled me down. I tried to get up, but he pinned my arm behind my back, keeping me balanced on his knee. If I struggled, I’d fall.
“Stop it! Shane!”
“Forgive me?”
“Yes, damn it!”
“That’s not very convincing.”
“Let go of me!” I hissed. “Everybody’s staring!” Red faced, I peered surreptitiously around me. The girl with the red hat was watching from the corner of the next shop. When our gazes met, her eyes widened slightly and she disappeared again.
“Then we’d better kiss and make up.”
I choked with umbrage. “Like hell.”
“One kiss,” he pressed, eyeing the people around us pointedly. “They’re all waiting with bated breath.”
Growling fractiously, I crushed my lips to his. He responded in kind, plunging his tongue into my mouth, his fingers tightening around my hand, holding me back. I dominated this kiss, punishing him with my lips and mouth. My other hand tightened around the hair at his nape, tugging hi
s head back so I could deepen the kiss. A groan rumbled from deep in his throat. He angled his head, his stubble chafing my skin. I could’ve purred like a kitten, appreciating the texture with a lengthy rub. As it stood, I concluded the kiss and nipped at his lip, grazing it with the edge of my teeth. Flinching, he sucked a sharp breath through his teeth.
“Convinced?” I snipped.
“By no means. You’re a drug, Emelia, a fucking drug, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get my next fix.”
“You’re going to get in trouble, Uncle Carter,” said a firm but feminine voice. Shane and I looked up at the same time, found the young girl in the red hat chastising Carter, who was holding his cell phone in his hands, poised to snap a photo. “You’re not supposed to be taking anymore pictures without asking.”
Staring through the screen, Carter frowned and dropped his hands when he realized Shane and I were looking directly at him. “Darn it, Gabi, you just ruined a perfectly good shot.”
“Better get up,” Shane muttered, helping me from his lap. “I have an ass to kick.” He stalked toward Carter, his intent clear and determined.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Carter warned, backing up with every step Shane took forward. “I wasn’t going to post it or anything.”
“I know you’re not, because I’m going to break that phone of yours into a dozen little pieces.”
“Aw shit.” Turning, Carter bolted down the sidewalk, Shane fresh on his tail.
Chapter 7
Sitting on the worn sofa in the coffee shop, I tapped away at the keys on my laptop. A week and I’d yet to find one potential lead for a new job. This was due, in part, to Shane’s observation regarding my choice of occupations.
He got me to thinking that maybe…no, I was definitely a sorry sap, stuck in the past and languishing over things that I couldn’t change. The fact was I couldn’t have children. Why bother surrounding myself with them? Why put myself through that pain day after day? It was masochistic. That said, I figured I needed to find a new occupation to pour myself into, something that mattered to me, something I felt passionate about. Only, I just wasn’t sure what that was.
Breaking the Habit Page 7
