No Exchanges, No Returns

by Laurie Kellogg

  “I wanted to make sure I got something you like.” He set the drinks on the table and sank next to her on the couch. “Whatever we don’t finish you can heat up tomorrow for lunch.”

  “And probably breakfast, too.”

  “It’s nice to meet a woman who doesn’t limit herself to eggs and cereal in the morning.”

  “No, with my culinary skills, I’m definitely the cold pizza type.” She peered into one of the boxes and groaned. “Oh, yes! Lo mein. If you’ve got spare ribs, dumplings, and anything with snow peas here, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  “No self-respecting caterer would forget dumplings.” He smiled, mentally patting himself on the back for adding the chicken with snow peas to his order as an afterthought.

  After piling his plate high, he glanced over at Brianna who was already digging in. Considering her perfect model’s figure, he’d expected her to be one of those women who only looked at food. Instead, she ate with unrestrained gusto, moaning her pleasure through each bite.

  When she noticed him watching her, a shy smile curled her mouth. “I figure I might as well chow down while I can. After I start the chemo on Friday, my appetite will probably evaporate.”

  “You’re right. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He bit off a hunk from a sparerib and mumbled, “So, tell me about your family.”

  She grabbed one of the napkins from the bag and wiped her lips. “Is that why you’re here? To badger me some more about telling them?”

  “No. I only asked to get to know you better.”

  “Oh.” She stared down at her plate. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little sensitive.”

  “Ya think?” He took a sip of his seltzer. “So, is your sister older or younger?”

  “Older by sixteen minutes. We’re fraternal twins. And if you’re wondering, I’m the evil one.”

  Normally he’d take a remark like that in jest, but she clearly was serious. He twirled a hank of lo mein onto his fork. “Why would you say something like that about yourself?”

  “Cause it’s true. I’ve been trouble since the day I was born. Casey was the easy one. She always got the brunt of all of my problems.”

  She told him about her premature birth, apnea, and childhood asthma. “On top of that, when I was seven they discovered I had a learning disability. Casey could read by the time she was four. So I let her do all my homework for me.”

  Not unusual with twins. Whatever area one was weak in, the other picked up the slack. “None of those things were your fault.”

  “Maybe not, but our mother’s death was.”

  He set his fork down and stared at the guilt flickering in her eyes.

  “The summer Casey and I were eleven, my parents rented a beach house at the Jersey shore. One night there was a big storm, and the ocean was unusually rough the next afternoon. Our mom told us to stay out of the water. Instead of swimming, we spent the day building sandcastles. Casey and I were decorating the towers with spires of dribbled sand.”

  “In other words, a typical girly castle.”

  “Right. When I went to fill the pail with water, a wave pulled the bucket out my hand, and I ran in after it. The undertow sucked me right out. As soon as my mom dove in after me, a giant wave broke on us and literally spit us back up on the beach. My leg was shattered in three places, and I spent the next month in the hospital in traction. And my mom’s....” Brianna closed her eyes, seeming too choked up to continue.

  “And your mother’s neck was broken,” he finished for her, swallowing hard. He’d seen enough spinal cord injuries from body surfing to know the probable cause of death.

  “She died instantly,” she whispered, unable to hide the child’s pain with her adult resignation.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice rasped. “But you can’t blame yourself. You were just bein’ a stupid kid.”

  “I know. It was an accident.” She busied herself squirting a packet of hot mustard on her egg roll and dipped it into a dollop of duck sauce on her plate. “Don’t worry, I’m really not carrying around a load of guilt over it.”

  Right. Just like he didn’t beat himself up over all the hours he’d missed with Francie.

  “What I have trouble forgiving myself for is that Casey lost her childhood because of my stupidity. Overnight, my sister had to start cooking and cleaning. I was a cripple for four months, and then I was in physical therapy for nine months after the cast came off. By the time I was capable of helping out around the house, Casey was used to doing it all and continued right on taking care of my dad and me.”

  “Your father is the guilty one for letting that happen.”

  “Maybe so.” She laid her egg roll down, never taking a bite. “But I should’ve insisted on helping. Instead, I took the easy way out and let her be the lady of the house while I hung out with my friends. All our lives my sister’s been sacrificing for me—right down to having a baby for my husband.”

  Brianna pushed her plate away, as if she’d lost her appetite. “The worst part is, I recently learned she used to have a crush on him, and without realizing it, I stole him from her.” Tears glistened in her eyes as she choked out, “That’s why I can’t let her or David know I’m sick.”

  Marc pulled her into his arms. “Hey, shhh....you didn’t steal David. If he’d really been interested in your sister, he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him.”

  “You don’t get it. Casey’s not as outgoing as I am. I didn’t give him a chance to fall for her,” she sobbed into his chest. “Maybe now he’ll realize his mistake and marry her and raise their baby together.”

  “And if you don’t die, then what? You spend the next fifty years in love with your sister’s husband?”

  “I don’t think I have much to worry about there. I’ll be lucky if I get five years.”

  Not if he had anything to say about it. He pulled back from her and gripped her shoulders, staring into her eyes. “We’re gonna beat this, Brianna. So I don’t want to hear any more talk about dying. You have to count on living. We have a good shot at keeping this a chronic condition.”

  “If I’m still around in a few years, then I’ll just have to fall in love with someone else.”

  “It’s not that easy.” Not when he couldn’t stop comparing every woman he met to the one who’d meant everything to him. “And what about that poor schmuck you divorced? What’s he suppose to do when he learns the woman he loves only left him because she was sick? You think any relationship he develops with Casey is going to survive that? Your sister’s gonna get her heart broken. You’re messing with people’s lives.”

  “But that wasn’t the only reason I divorced David,” she explained. “Sure, if I hadn’t had a brain tumor we probably would’ve continued our superficial relationship as long as the sex was good. But what kind of marriage is that?”

  “Don’t underestimate the value of sexual compatibility. It’s a big part of a successful marriage.”

  It was the only area he and his wife hadn’t been a perfect fit. Francie had never been able to let go of her puritanical inhibitions to have anything but missionary sex, twice a week, with the lights out. He would’ve given all his worldly possessions if just once she’d let go and allowed him to hear her lose control. That one kiss he and Brianna had shared told him she was a sensual woman who would never hold herself back with him.

  “And what about when that lust fades and there’s nothing left? You don’t understand. You’d have to hear the way David argues with my sister to get what I mean. He never fought with me. At least not until the day I told him I was leaving him.”

  A cynical laugh burst out of Marc. “Are you listening to yourself? It sounds like you had a marriage most people would kill for. Great sex and a peaceful existence. Why the hell would you want a man to fight with you?”

  “Maybe so I’d feel as if he believed I had the intelligence to debate an issue with him.” She turned to Marc and shrugged helplessly. “I’ve always been just a pretty face to men, David included. I�
�m not saying he doesn’t love me. But I always felt as if he was placating me. Like what I had to say wasn’t of enough consequence to bother disputing.”

  Marc stared down at his plate and smiled as his yelling matches with Francie flitted through his memory.

  “What’re you grinning about?” Brianna slapped his shoulder. “It’s not funny. You don’t know how it feels to be married to someone who doesn’t care enough to get mad at you.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. And I wasn’t laughing at you. Honest. You just made me realize why I can’t stay away from you.”

  “Why? Because we infuriate each other?”

  “Maybe.” He pulled her into his arms, dotting her face with kisses. “Think how great the make-up sex will be.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to assume I’ll agree to go to bed with you?”

  “When something’s inevitable, there’s no assumption involved. And seeing as we’re both ready to tear each other’s clothes off right now, when we finally get it on, I doubt we’ll make it into the bedroom. At least not the first time.”

  “First time?” She shoved herself away. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Some have even called me cocky.”

  “How appropriate.” She glared at his bulging crotch.

  “Sorry.” He shrugged. “It’s not something I can help. Ever since you admitted to having wet dreams about me, I’ve been fantasizing about you, too. And not just at night.” He thought about thrusting himself inside her every waking minute, as well.

  “That was just the pain medication talking.” She squirmed next to him, proving their discussion excited her as much as it did him. “And you said it yourself, my brain was swollen.”

  “Make all the excuses you need to ease your good-girl conscience, Brianna. We both know the truth. You can’t wait to fuck me any more than I can wait to taste you and hear you come.”

  Her soft gasp and the sparkle in her eyes told him his smutty talk titillated her to no end. Naturally, he’d have to wait a few weeks until she was back on her feet, but the anticipation would make the experience that much sweeter—for both of them.

  “I’m going on record, right now, Angel. In the end, you and I are gonna tangle. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter 11

  The feminists of the world had it all wrong. God was definitely not a woman. If He were, pregnancy wouldn’t take nine months.

  Casey rubbed her aching back early Thursday evening and stepped to the opposite side of the nursery to analyze the Mother Goose mural she’d spent the day sketching.

  “Tinkerbelle?” David yelled from the first floor. “Are you up there?”

  “Yup.” Brushing the bits of eraser from her pink tank top, she strolled out to the upstairs landing.

  He gazed up at her from the foyer. “Would you mind coming down? I want to show you something outside.”

  Wrinkling her forehead, she descended the steps and followed him out the front door. She froze at the sight of the taupe Lexus SUV parked beside the front stoop.

  “It’s a hybrid so it won’t cost you much in gas.”

  “You bought this for me?”

  Smiling, he pulled a set of keys out of his wheat-colored trousers and handed them to her. “It’s loaded. It’s even got a DVD player for when the baby gets older.”

  With all those extras, she didn’t want to think about what he must have paid for it. “Are you crazy? I can’t accept something like this.”

  The excitement in his eyes dimmed. “Okay, have it your way. I bought it for the baby. Since he won’t be able to drive for another sixteen years, you’ll have to be his chauffeur.”

  “Very funny. What’s everyone gonna think when they see me behind the wheel of this rolling status symbol?”

  “Maybe that I take good care of my family?”

  She jabbed him in the chest. “You know perfectly well that’s not what they’ll assume.”

  “To be honest, I didn’t give a moment’s consideration to what the world would think.”

  “Oh, didn’t you?” She stormed back into the house with David hot on her heels.

  “What’s that crack supposed to mean? You think I bought that to try to make everyone think the worst of you?”

  She spun on her heels halfway down the hallway and faced him. “No. What I meant was, if you weren’t concerned with what the world thinks, you would’ve simply bought a cheap sedan.” She swept her hand in an arc. “It’s just like this mini-mansion you insisted on building for my sister. She would’ve been happy in a house half this size.”

  “Thanks a helluva lot.” He crossed his arms. “You think I’m a pretentious snob.”

  “Not at all. If you were a snob, you’d buy yourself a fancy SUV. That’s what makes you such a darn contradiction.”

  For Father’s Day, he’d given his dad an expensive watch, yet he wore a cheap digital one on his own wrist. There were no gold cufflinks or diamond tie tacks in David’s jewelry box. No designer suits or Italian leather shoes in his closet. He drove a moderately priced car and carried a cheap briefcase from a discount store. At the same time, he gave her dad a two thousand-dollar television set as a birthday present.

  “You love giving expensive gifts to everyone, yet you never buy anything special for yourself. You treated your parents to a two-hundred-dollar dinner on Father’s Day without batting an eye, but if you’re on your own for supper, you pick up fast food on the way home. What’s that all about?”

  He shrugged and headed into the kitchen, changing the subject. “What smells so good?”

  She followed him, crossed her arms, and waited for a response while he peeked into the oven at the roasting chicken. She had no intention of letting him off the hook. When no answer was forthcoming, she tried again. “Tell me. Why do you need to flaunt your success but treat yourself as if you don’t deserve what you’re so determined to give to everyone else?”

  He stared quietly out the French doors for several moments before he muttered, “Maybe because I don’t.”

  “What?” She grabbed his arm and tried to spin him toward her so she could see his eyes. It was the only way she could ever guess what he was thinking. “You can’t make a statement like that and not explain.”

  Slowly he turned and faced her but remained silent, his jaw set, for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Talk to me, David. Don’t you believe you’ve earned all you have?”

  He closed his eyes and finally said softly, “No, I guess I don’t. My parents paid for my entire education with blood money from my brother’s death settlement.”

  She’d always wondered how his parents had afforded his tuition and books on top of all of their upscale lifestyle—especially since his mom had never held a paying job, and his dad had retired at only fifty-eight from his position as a county public defender.

  His eyes opened and he stared at her. “Did you know I had a brother?”

  “Brianna mentioned him once. She said he was killed when you were still a kid.”

  “I was sixteen.” The muscles in his throat convulsed. “James was six years older and in his first year of medical school. He’d won a full baseball scholarship and graduated college summa cum laude.”

  In other words, his brother had been everything a parent could hope for in a son.

  “The week after I got my learner’s permit, he came home to visit. I nagged him all day to take me out in the car, so when we went to pick up a pizza that night, I conned him into letting me drive. On the way home, a truck T-boned the passenger side of the car.”

  “Oh, dear God. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” She reached for him to hold him, but he stepped away, turning toward the French doors. “But it wasn’t your fault, was it?”

  He shook his head. “The other driver was drunk and ran a stop sign.”

  That explained all his mother’s volunteer work for MADD.

  “Legally, I wasn’t responsible. But if I’d been a more e
xperienced driver, I probably would’ve noticed the truck sooner and reacted faster. It’s possible I could’ve avoided it.”

  She watched him for several seconds, allowing it all to sink in. Everything about him began to make sense. “So was guilt the reason you became a doctor? Is that why you think you have to be the best at everything—to fill your brother’s shoes by being the successful doctor you parents had hoped he’d become?”

  He shrugged one shoulder and wandered into the family room. “It might’ve had something to do with my choices.”

  Did the man have to keep walking away, trying to shut her out? She was tempted to find a rope and tie him to a chair until he talked to her. “David,”—she trailed after him—“no matter how many patients you treat or how much acclaim you earn in life as a physician, you can never bring your brother back for your parents.”

  He snorted. “You don’t think I know that?”

  “Then what do you hope to accomplish by driving yourself so hard?”

  His body became as still as a statue for several seconds except for the muscles convulsing in his throat—as if he were struggling to speak. The unshed tears glistening in his eyes made her insides twist. Finally, he croaked, “Maybe I just want them to stop wishing it’d been me who died, instead.”

  The anguish in his voice overrode the bitterness in his words, telling the real tale of a teenager and his intense pain. Rage seethed in Casey that his mother and father had never given him the approval he’d needed so much.

  ~*~

  Damn. What the hell had made him say something like that? David closed his eyes as Casey stared up at him. He’d never realized he felt that way until he’d actually spoken the words.

  “No, David, you’re wrong about them.” The gradual metamorphosis from outrage to compassion in her eyes and the way her moist lips parted slightly provoked an intense need in him to kiss her—to dilute all of his bitter feelings with her sweetness.

  “Forget what I just said. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Deep down you did.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “Your parents love you. I don’t believe for a moment they’ve ever wished anything like that.”