by Brenda Novak
“Whoa, don’t hang up. It’s fine. Please let me redeem myself for...what happened two years ago...”
“There’s no need for that. It’s okay.” Without that rude awakening, maybe she never would’ve had the impetus to take her life in another direction. Maybe she would’ve aborted Wyatt. Maybe she would’ve settled for hanging on to Aaron’s coattails as long as he allowed it. Then where would she be?
Granted, her life had gotten worse before it got better, but look where she was today.
“So...do you have news?” he asked.
“About?”
“Are you pregnant?”
“I don’t know yet.” She could get a test from the grocery store, but had no idea if they were accurate within twenty-four hours of a possible conception. And if they weren’t, why spend the money? Besides, she didn’t want to be seen buying something like that in such a small town—didn’t want word of it circulating among the gossips when she was trying so hard to convince everyone she’d changed. She could only imagine what Cheyenne would say if word got back to her....
“When will you find out?” he asked.
“I can’t give you an exact day. There are over-the-counter tests I could buy, and I have Cheyenne’s Prius, but Dylan’s planning to pick it up in the morning and nothing’s open at the moment.”
“I can get a test tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be your responsibility.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll take care of it when I can and give you the results.”
“Okay.”
She swallowed against a dry throat. “Anyway, I called to thank you for helping Cheyenne.”
“That’s all?” He sounded disappointed.
“I already told you I have no answers on...that other issue.”
“An answer wasn’t the only thing I was hoping you were calling about. I’ll be more careful this time if you want me to come over.”
She closed her eyes. Of course he expected what he’d gotten last night. She knew that was the one thing he associated her with. But if she didn’t hold out for more, for real love instead of mere sexual gratification, she might never have a relationship like the one Cheyenne had with Dylan. And she wanted that, wanted to raise her life to a higher level.
Don’t accept less!
“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” she said, and hung up.
* * *
Since Presley had called him once, Aaron thought he might hear from her again. She hadn’t moved on as completely as she wanted him to believe, or she wouldn’t have contacted him on Monday night, especially so late–and Sunday wouldn’t have been as explosive and satisfying as it was.
But Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday passed, and he didn’t see or hear anything. He drove by her house and studio a few times hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but all he saw was a sign that said her grand opening would be Saturday. If she noticed him or his truck in the vicinity, she didn’t convey it. He figured she was too busy to think of anything besides her business.
On Friday, he decided he was a fool for trying to outwait her. Here he was, constantly checking his phone, looking for a voice mail or a text and getting upset when he didn’t receive one. What was the point? Why was he suddenly playing games with her, letting his pride get in the way? If he wanted to see her, he should call and ask if she wanted to go out with him tonight.
So he did. But she told him she had a date with Riley.
“Where’s he taking you?” he asked.
There was a slight pause.
“Is that classified information?” He regretted the jealous edge to his voice, but she didn’t call him on it. She was obviously too convinced that her being with another man wouldn’t disturb him.
“He said I could pick my favorite restaurant.”
“Generous of him. So you’re going to Just Like Mom’s?”
“It’s not fancy. He’ll probably laugh when I tell him, but...there’s just something about it, and I haven’t been since I got home.”
Just Like Mom’s featured home cooking the likes of which she’d never had as a child. And Millie, the owner, represented the nurturing, motherlike figure she’d always craved. He understood, because he liked the local restaurant for the same reasons. They used to go there together and order open-faced turkey sandwiches, spaghetti and meatballs, meat loaf and mashed potatoes or grilled pork chops with a fully loaded baked potato. And, always, apple pie à la mode for dessert. They’d been like lost children eager to pretend they’d found a home.
“I guess you’ve forgotten, but I like it, too,” he said.
“I know.”
“I would’ve taken you there. We could’ve ordered the chili fries with extra chili and cheese for old times’ sake.”
“I’m sorry, Aaron. You might be right, maybe Riley’s not the one I’m looking for, but I’m going to give him a chance,” she said, then ended the call.
* * *
Presley was nervous. She’d never been on a date like this—not with someone so...suitable, someone she could settle down with who’d actually make a good father for Wyatt. The guys she’d dated in Fresno generally had a record, no interest in marriage or kids, let alone taking on the responsibility of someone else’s child. Or they didn’t have a job.
“How do I look?” she asked Cheyenne when she went over to drop off Wyatt. She hadn’t known what to wear. Her wardrobe was getting sparse; it had never been elaborate to begin with. She spent all her money on living expenses.
Her sister handed Wyatt to Dylan and pulled her into the bedroom, where she had Presley change out of her jeans, boots and leather jacket and put on a pretty sheath dress with strappy sandals, smaller earrings and a few bangle bracelets.
“Where did you get this stuff?” she demanded, surprised to find that it was all her size instead of her much taller sister’s.
“I bought it for you.”
“You knew you wouldn’t like what I chose?”
“I got it for your birthday in June.”
“That’s two months away!”
“I plan ahead.”
She was going to look silly so dressed up at Just Like Mom’s, but Cheyenne didn’t seem to care where they were going. She even dragged her into the bathroom and added a bit of curl to Presley’s short cut.
Soon, Presley scarcely recognized herself. She stared into the mirror, thinking she’d never looked more like her completely unrelated sister than she did at that moment—despite the difference in their size, coloring and hair length. But she guessed Riley would like the classy vibe she was sporting tonight. He might be a contractor, but he wasn’t like the belly-scratching beer hounds she’d known in the past.
“Well?” Cheyenne awaited her response with glittering eyes.
“I look whiter than I ever have. That’s for sure.”
“Whiter? What are you talking about? Pale?”
“No. I’m saying I look like a middle-or even upper-class white woman.”
“You are a white woman.”
“Partly. Maybe. Who knows?”
“Stop. What does the color of your skin have to do with anything, anyway? You’re beautiful. Nothing else matters.”
Presley wasn’t sure why she felt uncomfortable, but she didn’t want to disappoint Cheyenne after her sister had gone to so much trouble and expense, so she didn’t try to describe her feelings. “I like what you bought. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Cheyenne gave her a hug. “I hope you have a really nice time.”
“I’m sure I will,” she said, but with the way her nerves were acting up, she doubted she’d be able to swallow a single bite. She was going to get her first free meal in ages—since the last guy she’d dated never had the money to pay for dinner—yet she wouldn’t be in any condition to enjoy it. How ironic.
&
nbsp; Cheyenne touched her tattoo. “Have you ever thought about having this removed?”
Presley glanced at the jaguar slinking down her right arm. “No.” She had some Chinese characters that represented truth and courage on her side, too. But they couldn’t be seen unless she was naked, so there was no reason to mention them.
“Just a thought,” Cheyenne said.
A wish, more likely. Cheyenne hated tattoos on women. She felt they were tacky.
The doorbell rang, signaling Riley’s arrival. Presley had texted him to let him know she’d be at Cheyenne’s.
Presley remembered Aaron’s reaction to her date, the way he’d said, “I would’ve taken you there.” Lounging in a booth, eating overladen chili-cheese fries while laughing with the man she loved sounded like fun. “Is it too late to back out?” she asked.
Cheyenne scowled at her. “Stop. You’re all set, you’re gorgeous, and you’re going to have a blast.”
Dylan quit playing with Wyatt long enough to whistle at her as she came through the living room. “Wow! Riley had better watch out.”
She rolled her eyes. “You only like the way I look because I resemble your wife—as much as I can, anyway.”
“You always look good,” he told her.
“Sure I do.” She infused those words with so much sarcasm he couldn’t mistake it. “But thanks for trying.”
He winked at her, then chuckled as she answered the door.
12
Presley had a lot more fun than she’d expected to. For starters, Riley was surprisingly easy to talk to. And the fact that they both had a son, even though Riley’s was so much older, gave them plenty of common ground.
They didn’t end up going to Just Like Mom’s. Presley had been hesitant to name it as her favorite restaurant while sitting in his car wearing the elegant dress her sister had bought. So when he suggested they drive to San Francisco, she agreed. She had her grand opening in the morning and didn’t want to get home too late—San Francisco was an hour and a half away—but he looked so handsome sitting there, all scrubbed and polished, that she couldn’t refuse.
Why not go fancy? She was wearing high heels, wasn’t she? That alone made it a special occasion.
He took her to a famous seafood restaurant on the pier, but it wasn’t in the least pretentious. She felt comfortable there. Although she was planning to order the salmon or another entrée that wasn’t particularly pricy, Riley insisted she get lobster since she’d never tried it. Between the sweet meat and salty butter, the wine and the engaging conversation, she was glad she’d come. She hadn’t done much on a social level since she’d moved away.
After dinner, they strolled along the wharf, taking in the beauty of the moon sparkling on the bay and enjoying the street performers. When Riley gave her his coat, saying the breeze was too cold for her to go without one, she felt like a fairy princess. She was wearing beautiful clothes in a beautiful city with a beautiful man who had taken her hand to guide her through the crowds. She’d never felt further from the white-trash image she’d always had of herself.
It wasn’t until they drove home and he walked her up to Cheyenne’s door that she grew self-conscious again. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? Would there be a second date?
“I had a great time,” she said as they reached the doorstep. “Thank you for a fun night.”
“I had fun, too. You seem so grateful for everything, so excited about even the small stuff. It’s...refreshing.”
“Eating lobster for the first time in San Francisco isn’t small stuff.”
He leaned against the porch railing. “The view wasn’t anything I paid for, and yet it seemed you liked that best.”
She’d liked all of it. She was beginning to believe—truly believe—in a future that was very different from her past. All those nights spent cuddled up with Cheyenne for warmth in Anita’s rattletrap car, or some fleabag hotel, scared and alone—or tolerating the presence of a strange man in their mother’s bed—had never felt so far away. Even the nights that had come much later, the nights she’d checked out, using drugs to escape her memories, her fears and her self-loathing, seemed like they’d occurred in another lifetime. She felt so much more positive about herself, and associating with people like Riley gave her confidence that she wouldn’t regress.
“Maybe it’s because I’m seeing the world in a new way—or at least the possibilities of it,” she said.
She wondered what he’d make of that. She expected him to question her but he didn’t. Maybe he understood her better than she’d given him credit for.
“I like showing you those possibilities,” he said. Then he bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Good night,” he murmured, and walked back to his car.
Presley watched him drive off before going inside.
“I’m here for Wyatt,” she whispered into the entryway of her sister’s bedroom. Because she wasn’t sure how she felt about Riley, she’d been hoping to take her baby and slip out. She’d thought she might be able to, since everyone was asleep. But Cheyenne got up, pulled on a robe and followed her into the guest room, where she’d put Wyatt to bed in his playpen, which she’d picked up earlier.
“So? How’d it go?” she asked.
Although Presley spotted Wyatt’s diaper bag in the corner, all packed up, and slung it over her arm, she didn’t approach her baby. She wouldn’t disturb him until she could carry him straight out to his stroller. “It was fun.”
“Where’d he take you?”
“San Francisco.”
“Sounds romantic.”
Presley smiled as she replayed the evening in her head like the melody of a music box. “It was.”
“Do you think you’ll be seeing him again?”
“I’m sure I will, considering the size of this town.”
“You know what I mean.”
“If he asks me.”
“He didn’t give you any indication?”
“No. He just said he had a nice time,” she said with a shrug.
Her sister lowered her voice. “Did he kiss you?”
Presley felt herself blush. This conversation made her feel like a teenager. “Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It was a very chaste kiss.”
“Is ‘chaste’ a turnoff?”
“Not at all.” Presley gave her a gentle nudge. “Go back to bed. We can talk about this later.”
“I wasn’t sleeping that well to begin with,” Cheyenne admitted.
“Worried about the artificial insemination?”
“Among other things.”
“Like...”
She sighed. “Dylan and I had an argument tonight.”
They didn’t fight often. “Why?”
“I found a letter in one of his pockets from his father. J.T’s remarried. Can you believe that? Dylan has a stepmother, and he didn’t even tell me.”
“Why?”
“He said he didn’t want to upset me.”
“But he had to realize you were going to find out eventually.”
“He claims he was going to tell me. He just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”
If Dylan had a new stepmother, so did Aaron and the others. Presley considered what that might mean to the Fearsome Five. “Who is she? Did you learn anything about her?”
“Only that he met her on a singles site for prisoners.”
“You’d have to be seriously out of options to shop for a man there.”
“Or you’re addicted to the thrill of danger.”
“Does Aaron know?” Presley asked.
“I’m pretty sure he does. Remember when we got the text from him saying he’d–” she checked behind her to make sure Dylan wasn’t standing in t
he hallway “–do what we want him to?”
“Of course. That was a few days ago.”
“I think he and Dylan discussed it that night.”
“I’ll bet you’re right. But you’re not going to let the fact that he didn’t tell you about his father cause a problem between the two of you....”
“He caused the problem by shutting me out. He says he did it to protect me from worrying that maybe his father’s marriage will end before he’s released. But if he’s worried about something, I want to know about it. I’m his wife, the person who loves him, so I should know about it.”
“Like he knows what’s going on in your life?” she countered.
“Stop. I don’t have any choice about how I’m going to get pregnant. I’m doing that for him.”
“And he was hoping his father’s marriage would end, and he’d never have to tell you or anyone else.”
“Thanks for taking his side.”
“I’m not taking his side.”
“You don’t like that I’m keeping the truth from him.”
“I just want you to understand that it’s a choice but...to be honest, I’d probably make the same one in your shoes,” she admitted.
“Thanks for that, at least. Anyway, I’m glad it went well with you and Riley, and that he’s taking my advice.”
“About?”
She grinned. “I told him to go slow.”
Presley grabbed her arm. “Hey, I don’t like you coaching him.”
“He’s a great guy, Pres. I don’t want you to overlook him.”
“I won’t. I like who I am when I’m with him, if that makes sense.” Maybe that was more important than the powerful lust and the giddiness she felt around Aaron. Maybe a relationship based on mutual respect instead of sexual attraction would keep her on an even keel, make her capable of achieving more than she otherwise would. It would certainly give her more power in the relationship, which was important after having such a one-sided experience with Aaron.
“He didn’t ask to see you again, though?”
“No.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“I’m not stewing about it one way or the other. With my opening tomorrow, I can’t really think about anything else.”
