by Liz Fenton
“Tell me about this one,” she asked, and watched Rowan’s eyes spark as she began to read aloud.
• • •
Tomorrow was Claire’s birthday and the year anniversary of meeting Blair in Las Vegas. Gabriela’s fortieth had passed the month before unceremoniously, despite Jessie and Claire’s best efforts to draw her out. Gabriela glanced at the invitation to their joint birthday party on the coffee table and wondered why they were even bothering. Gabriela’s mind was made up, or maybe the decision had been made for her, but either way, tomorrow night she planned to return to the age of fifty. To Colin, and to the relationship they used to enjoy. If she couldn’t have a child, she at least wanted her husband back, even though she worried she might resent him for leaving her in this life. She wasn’t sure being an author was the career she still wanted when she returned back home. But Colin had always been a constant, a steady force in her life. Gabriela recognized she hadn’t exactly made it easy to support her, even aggressively pushing him away—literally—in her feverish attempt to get pregnant. Thankfully, he would never remember, but she would. She was just hoping she could learn to forgive both Colin and herself, even if she couldn’t forget.
Tomorrow also marked the deadline her editor had given her. Gabriela’s stomach twisted tightly each time she thought of how she’d only managed to squeeze out about half of the book Sheila was expecting. How could she ever explain to her that all the changes in her life had influenced her writing, and somehow she’d lost the magic she’d needed to craft the bestseller that once sat inside of her? She hadn’t told anyone yet, but the day Colin moved out she’d abandoned that manuscript and started a whole new one that was nearly finished, staying up until all hours of the night in her empty house typing nonstop. Although she had little hope her new work would ever be published, it had surprised Gabriela how cathartic it had felt to write without anyone else’s expectations weighing her down. She had sat at her desk late last night, staring at the keyboard, pondering how the story would end.
Gabriela had no idea if Jessie or Claire planned to stay or go back. She had accepted their rapid and insistent apologies, but had avoided seeing them in person—even on her own birthday—when they’d wanted to take her out for drinks, telling them she needed to work on her book, the sting of what happened still pricking her. Gabriela understood Jessie hadn’t done anything directly to her, but she still felt betrayed, as if the last ten years of their friendship had been based on a lie. Not to mention she worried what would happen when Grant discovered the truth this time. Because Gabriela knew that the facts always had a way of working their way to the surface, no matter how hard one might try to push them down.
She’d passed on attending Lucas’ baptism, feeling she’d be a hypocrite if she attended and helped perpetuate the lie to Grant. But selfishly she still wasn’t ready to look into Jessie’s eyes, unable to accept how Jessie had accidentally gotten pregnant with her third child while she couldn’t even conceive her first. She hated to admit it, but it did bother her that the universe had rewarded Jessie’s bad behavior with a baby, yet refused to grant one to Gabriela, who wanted it more than anything in the world.
She’d agreed to attend the birthday party via email because they’d long ago made a pact that nothing would ever come between them and celebrating together. And despite their splintered friendship, Gabriela knew they still needed each other. She caught herself picking up the phone so many times the past three months, only to set it back down again, letting her hurt feelings create an invisible wall between them. But tomorrow they had a choice to make, and she hoped they’d all agree. It was time to get back to the lives they were meant to live—the ones they had left behind a year ago.
The only person she’d been seeing regularly besides the pharmacist at the drugstore she frequented was her father, who insisted she come to dinner at his restaurant every Thursday night. She’d wanted to say no, but agreed, having been so busy last time around, often canceling their weekly dinner dates, ignoring the disappointment in his voice as she’d rattled off her excuses about writing deadlines.
She always forced a smile as she dipped her salty tortilla chip in the salsa, refusing to admit how much the jalapeño peppers were burning her tongue as they always did, knowing her dad would mock her for not being able to handle the hot stuff like a true Latina, her mother no doubt rolling her eyes from Heaven. Last week, he’d asked about Jessie and Claire, and Gabriela had lowered her eyes, not wanting to lie. “What’s going on?” he asked when his question was met with silence. “Those are your best friends. And it would seem like you need them now, more then ever.”
“It’s a long story,” she had said, and smiled, hoping he’d drop the subject.
“It always is, mija,” he’d laughed.
“Can I ask you something?” Gabriela leaned in, the margarita she’d been sipping giving her the courage to seek the answer she’d always craved.
“Yes, of course. Anything.”
“How did you get over losing Mom?” When he didn’t answer right away, his black eyes boring into hers, she had stuttered, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to say . . .”
He held his hand up. “It’s okay. I understand what you’re asking.” He rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. “The thing is, Gabriela, is that you never really get over losing someone or something you love. But the world keeps moving and you have to also, or you’ll get lost. Learning to accept things and move on isn’t a weakness. It’s a strength. And it’s what your mom would have wanted, for you to learn to persevere, even when life fails you.”
Gabriela sniffed hard to hold her tears. There had always been a part of her that felt like if she let go of the pain of losing her mom, then she was letting go of her altogether. That she’d fade further and further from Gabriela’s memory until she disappeared. “I still miss her,” Gabriela whispered. “Every day.”
“So do I,” her father admitted as he placed his hand over hers. “But don’t ever let that stop you from moving forward.”
• • •
“Mom? Which one do you like better?” Emily stood in the doorway of Claire’s bedroom holding up two dresses.
“They’re both nice, Em,” Claire said as she looked them over.
“Nice?” Emily frowned. “You might as well say totally boring!”
“What’s gotten into you? It’s just my birthday party with my friends you’ve known all your life. They always think you look beautiful.”
“But I care, okay? I want to look good.”
Claire took a deep breath. She was worried about Emily. Lately, she’d seemed to slip into some of her old patterns, being secretive and elusive. And whenever Claire asked her about it, Emily told her nothing was going on, that everything was fine. She’d followed up with her teachers and they agreed that all was going well. But Claire felt that familiar tug in her gut, the one that told her Emily was not being honest.
“Mom, I need you to help me choose one—please,” Emily pressed.
“Okay, I would go with the blue,” Claire said as she eyed the navy cap-sleeved dress with the black patent leather belt.
“Not the red?” Emily cocked her head toward the short red sleeveless shift dress with the jeweled buttons on the back.
“The red is ni— I mean, really cute too, but the blue one will bring out your eyes more.”
“Thanks,” Emily said tentatively. “I think I’m going with the red,” she added, and hurried out of the room.
Claire shook her head, ironically having no clue what she was planning to wear to the party tomorrow, on undoubtedly the most important day of her life. She’d tried to put most thoughts of the party aside, letting Jessie handle the majority of the planning. She had made her decision. She wanted to stay. Despite Emily’s secretiveness, their relationship was sturdier than it had ever been. And things with Mason were stronger than ever. In fact, she sensed he was going to propose soon. But she wasn’t sure where Gabriela stood, and because of that, she wouldn�
��t let herself get too attached to the idea of staying here, even though the thought of going back to her old life made her ache each time she imagined herself in it.
She’d still been unsure until she’d driven to Jared’s house, deciding she had to see him, she had to know for sure. Even though there was no way he would recognize her because they hadn’t met in this life, she’d still kept out of sight, stealthily sipping her Starbucks and reading a book until he arrived home from work to his house in Anaheim. As he’d stepped out of the car, his front door swung open and a little girl ran out and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing hard. Even though he’d eventually gotten divorced, she remembered he’d told her these years, when his children were little, had been his happiest in his marriage, before they’d started to drift the way people often do, when they forget all the reasons they fell in love in the first place. Claire had felt nothing more than a strong affection for him, realizing maybe that’s all it had ever been. At fifty, the old Claire had needed, or thought she’d needed, a man who’d simply loved her unconditionally. But now, after being back in Mason’s arms, in his bed, she realized she needed much more, and it was something only he could give her. She decided if she went back, she’d break off the engagement. And if she stayed here, she’d leave an anonymous letter in Jared’s mailbox, urging him to appreciate his marriage and his family. Maybe, it would help. Just maybe.
• • •
Jessie handed Lucas to Peter and watched as he raised him above his head and blew bubbles on his stomach. She laughed as Lucas giggled in response, glancing around the chain restaurant where they were about to eat, feeling less fear about getting caught than she used to, becoming more accustomed to meeting with Peter in public and deciding people would probably never suspect anything because they were with Lucas. Who would bring their toddler to an illicit meeting? As she caught the eye of another mother who smiled at her, she realized the woman was probably mistaking the three of them for a family. And in many ways, over the last six months, they had become one.
“Grant invited me to your party tomorrow night,” Peter said casually as they looked over their menus.
“What?” Jessie said quickly. “When?”
“I saw him a few days ago at the athletic complex. I didn’t know he played basketball there.”
“And my party came up how?” Jessie frowned.
“We were shooting the shit and he mentioned it. In fact, he thought Cathy and I were already coming,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you’d told him you watched Sean so Cathy and I could go out. What else does he know about us?”
“First of all, we are not an us,” Jessie scolded. “This thing we’re doing,” she said, holding her hands out, motioning toward the table, “is about him.” She nodded at Lucas, who was gnawing on a rubber giraffe. “And the answer is, Grant knows enough. I told him you and I were volunteering together in the classroom, which is true, we have several times, and that I’d seen Cathy around a lot more since she’s not traveling.”
“Jessie, calm down. I realize we’re not a couple, but we are Lucas’ parents. And we are real friends, aren’t we?”
Jessie thought for a moment. This relationship with Peter was like a delicate dance, and she was constantly trying not to misstep. And she had to admit, she liked him. He’d always been kind and understanding until she’d gotten pregnant, and then he’d transformed into someone she barely recognized. But this time, they’d gotten to know each other on a much deeper level. Because Lucas couldn’t yet talk, they had a lot of silence to fill. So they’d broached other topics, and Jessie was surprised how little she had known about him, like the fact that he’d grown up with a single mom and had never known his own father. Sometimes she wanted so badly to tell him what a great kid Lucas turned out to be, at least in her other life—that he was gracious and sweet with a wicked sense of humor. And now that she really knew Peter, she had to attribute some of those traits to him.
“Yes, we’re friends, Peter. Of course. But that doesn’t mean you should come to my birthday party.” She still didn’t know what was going to end up happening, if she was going to stay here or go back, but having Peter there, the person who’d come between her and Grant last time, would only complicate things.
“It’s too late. I already told him I would. And honestly, I want to. Cathy would love it too; things are going better with her.”
“Because you’re actually making an effort,” Jessie said, and cocked her head at him.
“You don’t have to rub it in that you were right,” he said, referring to Jessie’s advice about fighting for his marriage. “So, can we come? Please?”
Jessie considered it. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to let him attend. Plus, she was always looking for ways to help get his marriage back on track, and if this was going to help, so be it.
“Okay, you can come. But you better bring a kick-ass gift!” Jessie said, wiping some drool off Lucas’ chin.
“I promise to be on my best behavior,” he said, and held up his right hand.
“Whatever.” Jessie rolled her eyes playfully. “Just stay on your own side of the room.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you have your night,” he said, reaching over to brush Lucas’ hair out of his eyes. “Can’t believe the little man is almost one! Time is really flying.”
Jessie studied the menu. “Yes, it is,” she answered, thinking how quickly the year had passed. How far she and Grant had come in the past few months. How much she had learned. About herself. About marriage. About life. But would those lessons be enough if or when her world came crashing down again? She looked at Peter’s angular face, pushing aside the tinge of worry she felt inside, ignoring the feeling that she was going to regret letting him inside their home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
* * *
“You can put them over there,” Jessie called out to the florist, who was carrying two boxes of yellow tulips across her lawn the next morning. “I’ll arrange them on the tables later. As long as it doesn’t rain,” she muttered as she sipped her coffee, tipping her head toward the sky that was peppered with dark clouds. The forecast called for thunderstorms that evening, a weather pattern that hadn’t been seen in the month of June in years. Jessie hoped it wasn’t an omen.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Grant walked up behind her and pointed to the sky. “I can’t remember the last time we had heavy rain this time of year.” He set his hands on her shoulders and began to rub as they both stared at the looming clouds. “Don’t worry, no matter what, it will all work out.”
Jessie leaned into his strong hands as he massaged her. “Promise?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. She’d woken with trepidation an hour earlier, pulling Lucas into bed with her and trying not to think about the choices they all had to make that evening. The thought of leaving baby Lucas, even if it meant she’d be returning to ten-year-old Lucas, devastated her. Eventually, her mile-long to-do list for the party propelled her to get up, but she still felt off, like she already had her postparty hangover.
“I promise.” Grant turned and kissed her neck and Jessie closed her eyes, memorizing the way his hands felt against her skin, knowing if she returned home, to the way things were before, she would never again feel his touch. That he would be back with Janet, his fingers grazing her high cheekbones and his hands caressing her model-like body. “Rain or not, this night will be magical. Just wait and see,” he said before walking back into the house.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jessie murmured to herself as she stared at the pile of tables waiting to be assembled, the sound of distant thunder rumbling through the sky, deciding she’d better order a tent.
• • •
Gabriela wrestled with the zipper of her favorite violet dress, the one that used to hang loosely and now clung to her hips like plastic wrap. Frustrated, she peeled it off, throwing it on her bed along with the other discards, finally settling on a shapeless black dress that reminded her
of a potato sack. “It will have to do,” she said to her reflection in the mirror, running her finger under her eyes, hoping she’d be able to disguise the dark circles there. Ironically, she probably looked closer to fifty today than she did when she was actually that age, the lack of sleep having taken a serious toll. She’d barely slept the night before, her abuela making an appearance in her dream when she did finally fall into slumber. Her grandmother, with her long silver hair and gray eyes, would beckon Gabriela over, but when Gabriela would get close enough to hear what she was trying to say, she’d fade away into the darkness, Gabriela feeling like she was running through waist-deep mud to find her. Finally, right before she woke, she got close enough to wrap her arms around her, squeezing tightly as she felt the tears on her cheeks, not realizing how much she had missed her. As she rested her head against her shoulder, her abuela’s voice materialized, like a soft breeze brushing your ear. Gabriela bolted up in bed with one word playing over and over in her head: Stay.
Had she meant to stay here? In this life?
She’d been so sure she wanted to go back. Colin had stopped by unexpectedly to give her an early birthday present, explaining that he hadn’t missed giving her a gift in over fifteen years and despite their separation, he wasn’t planning to start now. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched him stand awkwardly in the doorway clasping a small box in his hand, waiting for her to respond. She’d smiled, the corners of her lips quivering as she waved him inside, her hands shaking slightly as she untied the bow, slid off the top, and pulled out her grandmother’s necklace. She’d gasped, the gold chain and locket slipping from her grasp. She and Colin had bent down at the same time to pick it up, their hands brushing. She’d lost the beloved necklace several months before, scolding herself because she’d known the clasp was loose, tearing her house apart looking for it. Finally, after days of searching and retracing every step she’d made, she’d given up the hunt, deciding it must be a sign that she didn’t belong in this life. But it had resurfaced, and so had her abuela, and now she was more confused than ever.
