L.O.V.E.

by Krissy Daniels

Fuck. I remembered. First her uncle, then her last two boyfriends before me.

  Mom continued. “After that, you never left her side.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Your girlfriend before Vic, what was her name?” Mom lifted a finger to her mouth, stared out the window, and then said, “Jocelyn.”

  Jocelyn Garcia. We’d lasted nine months before she’d dumped me with no explanation. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Mom.”

  She rolled her gorgeous eyes, grabbed a mug out of my hand, smirked. “She’d lost her mother a week before you met her, right?”

  “Yes.” I headed to the fridge to grab creamer.

  “And the girlfriend before her?”

  “Had a broken leg when we met,” I answered, my nerves shot. “Are you saying I’m attracted to damaged women?” I shut the door too hard, bottles and jars clinking.

  “Oh, God, no.” She waved her hand in the air, then rested it over her heart. “You wanted to save them.” She dropped her gaze to the tile floor, swallowed, met my eyes again. “You couldn’t save your sister, honey. You tried to make up for that loss by helping those women.”

  Mom wasn’t entirely off the mark. Wasn’t easy to admit, though. I was about to tell her so, but she continued.

  “You rarely smiled or laughed with Victoria. You were always so serious and focused. Too worried about keeping her happy.”

  “That a bad thing?”

  “No.” Mom reached up to cup my face. “You’ve got a beautiful spirit, my boy, and a smile that brightens everyone’s day. And it killed me to watch that brilliant light of yours dim.”

  Mom wouldn’t talk ill of my dead wife, and she’d said too much already, guilt evident in the quiver of her lips and the shimmer in her eyes.

  “I want you to be happy. To be with someone who makes you happy without having to work at it.” She shoved a hot mug of coffee my way. “You’re going to have an epic love story. I’ve known that since before you were born.”

  Cue the eye roll. “No, Mom. Not with that story again.”

  “Fine.” She laughed, poured a hearty dose of Baileys into her coffee, then mine. “But it’s true. Your grandfather knew it. I know it. Your soulmate is out there, and when the time is right, you’ll know.”

  Relieving mom of her drink and anymore uncomfortable truths, I pulled her into a hug and whispered into her hair, “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “Love you more.”

  “I’m gonna say my goodbyes and head to Ellis and Lacey’s.”

  A full glass of Glenfiddich sat untouched in Martin’s empty spot at the table.

  Cigar smoke poisoned the air.

  Unwanted memories stifled the mood.

  Ellis, unusually quiet, couldn’t keep his eyes off the door.

  Upstairs, Natalie and Lacey laughed, and danced by the sounds of their footsteps and the low bass thumping through the floorboards overhead. I envied their joy.

  Martin wasn’t at the table, but his presence was stifling, choking all pleasure from the game.

  Ellis was the first to state the obvious. “This feels like a betrayal. Playing without him.”

  “Betrayal?” I huffed. “Shitty choice of words.”

  “Sorry.” He slammed his cards on the table. Scraped his fingers over his scalp. “Fuck.”

  “I think we should bury this tradition along with Martin.” The words tasted sour. So I snatched the tumbler we’d filled for our dead friend, downed half the glass, the burn exquisite, then shoved the remainder Ellis’s way.

  Eyes liquid, he stared at the whiskey. His throat moved. He took the drink, his glare dark and tortured, swallowed the rest of the amber liquid, and then threw the glass against the wall, the shatter unsatisfying.

  Ellis pushed from the table and paced the small room, hands to hips.

  One by one, carefully constructed walls of ice shielded my battered psyche.

  “I loved him. But he doesn’t deserve to be here. Doesn’t deserve a place of honor at our table. Not after what he did to you.”

  Stone still, guarded, I allowed Ellis his release.

  “I was stupid to think we could do this.” He stopped in front of me. Crossed his arms. “I’m sorry, brother.”

  My chest caved, but through that wall of ice, I mumbled, “Me, too.” And I meant those words. “I’ve been caught up in my own shit. I haven’t considered your suffering. I’ve been a shitty friend, and I’m sorry.”

  He moved around the table, poured two more shots. “To new traditions?”

  We raised our glasses.

  It hit me then that any new traditions would include Lacey. As they should. Envy embittered my already sour mood. I wanted what they had. “New traditions,” I acquiesced, downing my drink in one swallow. Fighting the urge to hit something, I said, “Besides, you suck at poker anyway.”

  Ellis only laughed. “Maybe we should join the ladies.”

  The ladies. God, I’d been itching to see Natalie’s sweet face all night.

  We headed upstairs, leaving the smoky basement and Martin’s ghost behind.

  Natalie and Lacey sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table, a display of ridiculously large cards on the table between them. The baby slept bundled in a Seahawks blanket on the couch, down for the count.

  “Go fish!” Natalie threw her arms up and then pointed at Lacey, wiggling in a happy dance, her red glasses falling down her nose. The air seemed thinner, and I forced slow breaths. In—one, two, three, four. Out—one, two, three, four. I reached into my pocket for the gold that was no longer there, my agitation rising again. But I focused on Natalie, the silver in her eyes more precious than the metal I’d lost. The shy smile she flashed before looking away more soothing than my missing charm.

  “What’s going on up here?” Ellis asked, curling up behind his wife.

  “Go Fish,” Lacey said, arching her neck to kiss Ellis.

  “It’s our Thanksgiving tradition,” Natalie threw in, righting her glasses. She scooted to the left. “Want to join us?”

  Ellis and I exchanged glances. He shrugged, shooting me a why not? gesture.

  “Sure,” I mumbled, thankful for the alcohol in my veins. I wouldn’t survive the evening without liquid aid to dull the jagged edges.

  “Perfect.” Natalie clapped her hands together and hopped to her feet, snatching her wine glass. “I need a refill. Anyone else?”

  “One more for me,” Lacey sang.

  Ellis hugged his wife. “Water for me, please.”

  “Cole?” she asked over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” I answered on reflex, “I’ll have a drink.”

  That cursed, invisible string between us tensed, drawing me closer, and I followed behind, focused on the sway of her hips. My balls tightened. Chest constricted. Hands curled into fists.

  Unsettling how much I wanted this woman.

  She stopped at the counter. Lifted a bottle to fill her glass.

  Mind numb, body reacting to her witchery, I closed the distance between us and lifted the Barolo from her fingers, placing it out of reach.

  Natalie turned.

  I pinned her to the counter, my loafers bracing her bare feet. Hands to her cheeks, I ducked, claiming that sinful mouth, stealing her precious breath. Sweet and fruity. God, she tasted too good.

  Her tense body softened. Her tongue met mine and, sweet hell, she kissed me back with all the softness I lacked.

  My life hung in the balance. Natalie held the string.

  Cold fingers found their way under my shirt, dancing along my heated skin before digging grooves down my ribcage. She rose on her toes like she wanted to climb my body.

  Cupping her ass, I pulled her closer, ground my hips, and sucked on her tongue.

  Natalie whimpered, fucking whimpered, going boneless in my arms, and I lost control, instinct taking over. My only conscious thought—burying myself in Natalie King.

  My cell
rang. I ignored the wretched tone.

  Natalie pulled away. I gripped the back of her head and brought her back to my mouth.

  The ringing continued.

  Natalie brought her palms to my chest and pushed.

  “No,” I growled, holding her steady.

  “Cole,” she protested into my mouth.

  That fucking incessant ringing.

  Natalie pushed again, her rejection crushing.

  I bit her bottom lip, pinching her flesh between my teeth, ensuring she couldn’t pull away. Couldn’t leave me.

  But she did.

  “Goddammit, Cole. Stop,” she said, slapping my chest and jerking back.

  Her chest rose and fell. Worried eyes met mine. Her tongue made a slow drag across her bottom lip, and she winced.

  Good. I wanted her pain. Wanted to kiss her better. I wanted everything.

  The ringing stopped, then started again.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled, yanking the cell from my pocket. I looked at the screen. Guilt washed clean my lust haze.

  “Everly, hi.”

  Natalie’s head whipped up, her blush darkening.

  “Cole? Honey?” Sobs came across the line.

  Victoria’s mother hadn’t reached out to me once since the funeral, despite my calls and frequent attempts at visiting.

  “Everything okay?” Agitation balled in my gut.

  “I can’t. I can’t. Oh, God. I miss my baby so much.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, me, too,” I said out of habit.

  Natalie pushed me away, much harder than before, and I stumbled back, catching my balance too late to grab her before she fled.

  “Cole. I’m sorry. I’m a mess and I just…” Everly continued, but I couldn’t hear a word.

  Natalie shoved her feet into her boots and before I reached her, she was shrugging into her jacket.

  Lacey asked, “What happened?”

  Ellis stood, arms crossed, glaring my direction.

  Sobs and a shrill voice pierced my ear.

  Natalie turned to her friend, ignoring me. “I need to go. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  She couldn’t leave. “Natalie, wait!”

  “Natalie? Who’s Natalie?” came through the speaker, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Everly. Give me a moment.”

  “Everly?” Lacey clapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, Nat Brat.”

  I shoved the phone back into my pocket. “Natalie, what happened?” I reached for my girl, my saving grace.

  She dodged my hand.

  “Please don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” She pointed to my pocket. “Even from her grave, she’s trying to ruin me.” One tear let loose, and she quickly swiped it away.

  I wasn’t sure how to process her comment. Conscience had dictated I take the call from my dead wife’s mother. “That’s not fair.”

  “I can’t do this, Cole. I’m sorry.”

  She was leaving. Again. Rage erupted so fast and furious I didn’t have a chance to keep it in check. My fist met the wall. An ungodly pain shot up my wrist. Natalie screamed. Ellis braced his arms around me and twisted, forcing me away from the women.

  A strange noise filled the vast room, long and loud and full of anguish. It was my voice, my lungs straining, my soul releasing months of poisonous fury.

  Ellis held tight, not letting me fall.

  When the storm cleared and my head stopped buzzing, Natalie was gone.

  Natalie

  I lay between Mom and Dad, my head on Mom’s lap, my feet tucked under Dad’s thigh. We’d spent the morning drinking too much coffee and eating too many Christmas cookies. It was good to be home, but I missed my Lacey Lu something fierce. I couldn’t remember the last Christmas I’d spent without her.

  We stared at the big screen. Watched Will Ferrell pour syrup on spaghetti and laughed until our stomachs hurt.

  When the movie was over, Mom gave my hip a slap. “What time are you heading to Lacey’s house?”

  “I’m not going to their dinner party,” I said, pulling the blanket tighter under my chin.

  “What?” Mom squeaked.

  Dad snorted, then shifted, leaving my feet exposed and cold. “What’s the matter? You not feeling well?”

  “I feel fine.” I shrugged. “I would rather hang out with you guys today.”

  Cold fingers clamped over my forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Is it your period?”

  “Mom!” I swatted her hand away, then swung my feet to the floor. “No. I just don’t want to be around a bunch of people today.”

  “Cole won’t be there,” Dad said, pointing the remote at the television.

  “Dad!”

  “Just sayin’. If he’s the reason you’re not going to see your very best friend and your godson, then you’re staying home for no reason.”

  I turned to face my father, but he didn’t return the courtesy. “How do you know Cole won’t be there?”

  “He’s in New York.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Click. Click. He raced through channels. “We bump into each other now and then.”

  “So you’re buddies now?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He smiled. “But the kid has one helluva golf swing.”

  Unbelievable.

  “Ugh. Dad. What are you doing?” I threw my arms over my face.

  “He’s your best friend’s husband’s best friend. That makes him your friend-in-law. He’s practically family.” Dad huffed and finally turned my way, his brows knitted. “I thought you loved the guy.”

  “I fell in love with him on accident.”

  “Nothing is an accident,” Mom piped in.

  “And then I moved away. To get away from him. Because he was getting married!”

  “He isn’t married anymore,” Dad said, looking truly perplexed.

  “Because his wife is dead. And might I remind you, she was my mortal enemy.”

  Mom’s turn again. “Might I remind you that if it weren’t for Victoria, Cole wouldn’t have come back to Seattle.”

  “That’s true.” Dad gave Mom a high five over my head. “You never would have met him.”

  “Oh. My. God. Why am I having this conversation with you guys right now?” I stood, aimed my ire at Mom. “And why are you on his side? What happened with the Caleb lore and all that destiny mumbo jumbo?”

  “Oh, my God, honey. I just remembered something.” Mom sprinted up the stairs.

  Dad eased off the couch, groaning louder than usual, and turned off the television. He limped to the stereo and pressed Play.

  Adding salt to my wound, Nat King Cole’s version of “The Christmas Song” played in surround sound.

  I dropped my head back in surrender. Dad came my way, wrapped me in his arms, and sung along while he spun me around the living room, paper crinkling under our feet.

  “Nat King Cole.” He laughed. “Natalie King and Cole. What are the odds?”

  I only refrained from smacking my dad because he was the freakin’ bomb. And even grown up girls needed their father’s arms once in a while. I missed our impromptu dances and his incessant teasing.

  When Mom returned, panting and wild-eyed, she slapped a photo into my hand. “Fate!”

  “What?”

  I looked down at the fading image. Mom was holding a brand spanking new baby—me, obviously. Next to her sat a woman, also holding a brand spanking new baby. Both women were smiling. I slept, my lips pursed, and the other baby’s face was hidden in the mother’s chest.

  “Who is that?”

  “That’s him.” She pointed at the baby as if that would answer my question.

  “Him, who?”

  “Caleb. Your soulmate. I found the picture when I was rummaging through the attic the other day.”

  Mom studied the photo, wonder and tears filling her hazel eyes. “Her father-in-law was so happy to be a grandfather. So happy. That man whistled or sang
every time he walked through the hospital.” She looked at Dad with a twisted grin. “Tell your Nugget what song that was, honey.”

  Dad chuckled, his arms still around me. “Nat King Cole’s ‘L-O-V-E.’”

  Of course, it was.

  I was done. Rising to my toes, I landed a kiss on Dad’s cheek, then Mom’s, then headed toward my room.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to Lacey’s.”

  “Take one of those pies with you,” Mom shouted, though I was only down the short hall. “I baked too many pies.”

  “Not the apple pie,” Dad yelled. “That’s mine.”

  “Oh, and some of that—” The slamming bedroom door cut off their teasing.

  My room hadn’t changed much since I’d moved out five years ago. Still the same bright turquoise bed frame. Patchwork quilt. Too many bed pillows. Pink and fuchsia striped walls. My Maroon 5 and Nick Jonas posters had been swapped out for antiqued, white trellis mirrors in different shapes and sizes and my Ikea dresser and nightstand had been upgraded to Pottery Barn sophistication.

  Off with the candy cane leggings and baggy sweater, on with the sweater dress, tights, and boots.

  Mascara. Lip gloss. Hair fluff. Good to go.

  Mom swayed in Dad’s arms when I came back out, her cheek to his chest, his lips in her hair. “Baby It’s Cold Outside” playing on the stereo.

  For a moment, I watched in awe and wonder of their connection, my heart aching for the same. Then I snapped a pic.

  My phone buzzed. A text from the one and only Caleb, my new ridiculously handsome and sweet supervisor, whom I hadn’t mentioned to my parents for obvious reasons.

  Merry Christmas. Enjoy UR family. Get some rest. I need my star player on the field to start our new year with a bang.

  I liked that Caleb texted me. But his communications didn’t give me tingles.

  I scrolled through my contacts and pulled up all the texts Cole had sent me since Thanksgiving. One a day, at least, apologizing. All of them short and sweet. Not once, though, had he asked me to answer his calls or call him back. He gave but asked for nothing in return.

  On my way out the door, Dad shouted, “Hey, did you get the invite to your uncle’s retirement party next month?”

  “I did.”

  “Will you be able to make it?”