by Tami Lund
She flaps her hand like she’s shooing a fly. “I took your father for everything I possibly could in the divorce. And then I tucked most of it away for a rainy day. When that day never came, I figured I’d give it to you when you got married, so you and your new wife could put a down payment on a house.” She points at the papers. “It’s paid in full. So if all she wants to do is fix it up and sell it, she’s welcome to. This neighborhood is really flourishing right now, so she’ll make a nice profit.”
“What if we don’t get back together?”
“Well, I hope you are smarter than that, but if not…” She shrugs. “I did a little snooping. About Victoria. And from what I found, she really, truly is not her mother, at all. She is a wonderful, caring human being, and I think the two of you will make a lovely couple.”
“What do you mean? What did you find out about her?” In our last conversation, Vicks had implied there were some skeletons in her closet scary enough to make me change my mind about dating her.
“You need to learn these things from her, not me. Now, go talk to her. I’m sick of you moping around, and I’m really sick of you giving me the cold shoulder.”
I crack a smile for the first time in two weeks, and then I hug my mother. She squeals, since I’m dripping with sweat, but she doesn’t pull away.
One down. And the toughest one to go.
***
After showering, I take the train back into the city, but instead of heading to my apartment, I go to Vicks’s. There’s plenty of time to question myself en route. My motives, my reasoning, my sanity.
Will Vicks see this peace offering from my mother as an attempt to control her life? Will I push her even further away when I give her the deed in my backpack, weighing practically nothing and yet as heavy as an elephant perched on my shoulders?
I don’t have a plan, and this may be the first time in my adult life that this has happened. I always concoct a plan; it’s the reason it takes me so long to take action. It’s the reason it has been two weeks since I’ve last spoken to Vicks.
This need to do it right is crippling me, is going to ensure I do nothing until it is too late. I can’t let that happen. It’s time to stop trying to formulate a damn plan and just go.
My steps falter as I round the corner near her shop. I almost stop and turn around, flee to the safety of my own lonely apartment.
Which might very well have happened if Vicks hadn’t been standing out on the sidewalk. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, she’s wearing casual pants and a T-shirt, and she’s accepting two pizza boxes from a delivery guy.
Two?
When she turns away and reaches for the door to the shop, I quicken my pace and call out her name. Her eyes widen.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as I come to a halt a few feet away.
“Where’s Toby?” I ask instead of stating the obvious. To see you. I miss you.
Her gaze flicks up to the window of her apartment and the pieces of a puzzle start to come together in my head. I’m not particularly pleased with the picture they’re painting.
“You have someone upstairs waiting, don’t you?” I ask. Well, it’s more of a demand, really.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh really? What do you think I think it is?”
“Another guy. That I’ve moved on already.”
I frown. “Yeah, that’s pretty much spot on.”
“I’m not seeing anyone else, Alex. It was fun pretending with you, but I know better now.”
I reach for her, and she winces like I’m about to strike her, so I drop my arm to my side. “We weren’t pretending. I wasn’t, at any rate. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t either. So I don’t understand why you’re so determined that we can’t make this work.”
“Alex, I—“
I lift my hand to cut her off. “You were right, what you said about my mother. I didn’t even realize I was putting her first until you pointed it out. Because that’s what I do, Vicks. I take care of the people I love. And that very short list includes you, too. And trust me, you will definitely, always be number one, from this point forward.”
She blinks rapidly, like she’s trying to hold back tears. She closes her eyes for a moment and one escapes anyway, trailing down her cheek and trembling on her chin before dripping and soaking into her shirt. I lurch forward to hug her, but she lifts the pizza boxes, using them as a barrier between us.
“No. Don’t,” she says. “I can’t. I need to get upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Stop pestering me, Alex, and go home.”
“I don’t want to go home. I want to go upstairs with you. I want to figure out how to make this work. Tell me why you keep pushing me away, so I can fix whatever I’m doing wrong.”
Her fingers squeeze the pizza boxes until they’re dented. And then she sucks in a deep breath, relaxes her grip, and says, “Fine.” She repeats, “fine,” as she balances the pies on one arm so she can open the door to the shop. “You want to see why I can’t ever be in a relationship? Well, you asked for it.”
Is she married? An alien? Has thirteen kids she’s been hiding from me all this time?
She opens the door at the top of the stairs and calls out, “I’m back.”
I follow her into the tiny apartment as another voice says, “Did you bring pizza?”
Oh shit, there really is another person here. And while the voice sounds childlike, it’s definitely male.
“Of course I did,” Vicks says in a lilting voice. “I told you that’s what I went downstairs to get, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but remember that time you said you were going for ice cream and you came back with Slurpees instead?”
“You would still bring that up,” Vicks mutters and then glances at me.
I hardly notice, because I’m staring at the person sitting on the bed next to Toby. A child. I’m guessing he’s maybe nine or ten. His facial features are flattened, his green eyes upturned at the corners, and his mouth is a little on the small side.
Holy shit, she really does have a kid. And damn, she was young when she had him.
“Hi,” the boy says to me, a giant smile stretching that tiny mouth. “I’m Artie.”
“Oh,” I say, my glaze flying to Vicks.
She uses her free hand to indicate the boy perched in front of us. “This is my younger brother. I have custody of him, and my aunt and uncle are helping me raise him. Now do you understand why I keep pushing you away?”
I return my focus to the kid on the bed and blow out a slow breath.
“Well, I’d conjured up an image of you with thirteen kids, so this is actually something of a relief.”
Chapter Fourteen
TORI
Without waiting for an invitation to stay, Alex takes the pizzas from my hands and heads toward the kitchen. Artie and Toby scramble off the bed and follow him.
“Did you get ham and pineapple?” Artie asks, talking to Alex.
Alex places the boxes on the counter and flips open the lid on the top one. “Yep. Looks like ham and pineapple and, what is this? Veggie pizza?” He glances up at me, arching his brow like I’ve done something wrong.
Artie puckers his lips like he’s sucking a lemon and says, “Tori likes vegetables.”
“You don’t?” Alex asks him while sliding a slice of ham and pineapple onto a plate.
“Not on pizza,” Artie replies with nine-year-old indignation.
Alex chuckles and says, “What are we drinking with our pizza?”
“Milk,” I say before Artie can ask for a soda or juice or pretty much anything other than the drink that will give him the most calcium and nutrients.
This is so surreal. And too damn easy. I have to tell Alex the rest. I can’t let him hope.
With plate and drink in hand, Artie heads back to the bed. “Did you spread out a towel like I told you?” I ask.
“Yep,” he replies, and then carefully places the i
tems on the bedside table, like I’ve reinforced a thousand times, before climbing onto the bed and resuming watching Aladdin. The kid loves the classics.
When I turn back to face Alex, he’s offering me a plate loaded with two slices of veggie pizza. “I don’t suppose there’s wine for us?” he asks hopefully.
I shake my head. “There are a couple beers in the fridge.”
“That will work.” He plucks out two, opens them, and hands one to me. I stand there and stare at him as he lifts a piece of ham and pineapple from the box and takes a gigantic bite while leaning against the counter.
“You’re staying?” I ask.
He lifts the half-eaten slice in his hand. “I love ham and pineapple.”
I roll my eyes.
“Eat,” he says. “And talk.”
“About what?”
“Well, let’s start with the fact that we spent four days together a few weeks ago, a fair portion of it being here, in this ridiculously small apartment, and this is the first time I’m meeting Artie. Who you just told me you have custody of. Although that certainly explains the toys and collection of Disney movies.”
“I like Disney movies too,” I protest, but he’s right.
I’ve had this conversation before, a few times. Back when I didn’t know better and I thought human beings were, as a general group, decent people. My mother and his father not withstanding. But time and experience has taught me how wrong I was, and I’m not particularly excited to now go down this path with Alex.
“My aunt and uncle took him to Tennessee to visit my uncle’s family over Labor Day weekend. That’s why you didn’t meet him. Plus, I don’t talk about him to guys I sleep with.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “Why bother? It’s always short-term anyway.”
“Now tell me the real reason.”
Ugh. This man is so persistent. Does he think I enjoy laying my soul bare?
“I’m not them, Vicks, whoever conditioned you to be afraid to open up. It’s me. Alex. Bean Pole. Gandalf. Or, my personal favorite, Q-Tip.”
My lips twitch, even though this is not a funny moment. Although I did come up with some pretty awesome nicknames when we were kids.
“You aren’t playing fair.”
“Maybe not, but I’m playing for keeps.”
I blow out a breath and glance over my shoulder. Artie is so engrossed in the movie, it’s taking him forever to eat his pizza.
“He was diagnosed with Down syndrome at birth,” I finally admit. “Mom brought him home from the hospital and practically tossed him at me. ‘They told me he’s retarded’ is what she said.”
“Jesus.”
“Yep.” I stare at the pizza I was craving an hour ago, but now my appetite is gone. “She barely took care of him. I did everything. My older brother had moved out by that point, so it was just she and I and the baby. And he was such a sweet little boy. Hardly ever cried. Started smiling at two weeks. He was just so damn happy all the time.”
Tears are streaming down my face. I don’t even bother to wipe them away. The memories are hitting me hard. I vividly recall falling madly in love with this kid, while my mother grew more and more distant every single day.
“I was a junior in high school, but I had essentially become a mother. And everything was going along okay until Mom decided to get into the dating game again. Artie was eight months old when she brought this guy home and the two of them sat in the living room getting high and coming up with ridiculous variations of the word ‘retard.’ I took Artie into my bedroom and called Aunt Laura, crying hysterically and begging her to help. She immediately flew out to Washington and brought Artie home to Chicago. My mom didn’t even bat an eyelash. And as soon as I graduated high school, I came back, too, and my aunt helped me gain custody, on the off chance my mother might suddenly come to her senses and realize she actually loves her youngest child. Which obviously hasn’t happened.”
“Christ, Vicks.”
He’s in my space, his arms engulfing me, pulling me close, so that the warmth of his body seeps all the way to my soul. I sag against him, relieved to have finally confessed my deepest, darkest secret. Well, most of it, anyway.
“Now do you understand?” I ask.
“That you are one of the most amazing people I know? Yes, I do.”
I have to tell him the rest of the story.
I push at his chest. He clings to me for a few extra seconds and then lets me have my space. “Why were you keeping him a secret? Are you embarrassed?”
“Of course not,” I snap.
“Then why?”
As if I could forget this man’s tenacity. I take a few steps away, glance up at Artie and Toby, happily perched on the bed, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
Rip off the Band-Aid, Vicks. There I go again, using Alex’s nickname in my own head.
“He’s your brother,” I blurt.
Alex blinks owlishly. “Huh?”
I wave at the little boy absently eating pizza while staring at the figures moving around on the television screen. “Artie. He’s—your dad is his dad.”
Alex’s gaze lifts to Artie, and I watch as the puzzles all click together in his head. “My dad?” He glances at me, his eyes wide.
I nod.
“He left him too?”
I nod again.
“He… did he know? That Artie’s…?”
I shake my head. “They got into a fight, he and my mom. A really bad one.” I grimace. “Remember when I said she’s into angry sex and she tends to forget to use protection when it happens?”
“I tried to block that out of my memory, actually.”
A smile teases at my lips for a moment, but I quickly sober. “Well, six weeks later, he found the positive pregnancy test in the trash in the bathroom. Packed his bags right then and there. Didn’t even say goodbye.”
“So he’s never even met your—our brother?”
I shake my head again. “The only reason I knew he was in LA was because Mom tried to go after him for child support. But that was nine years ago. I haven’t talked to either one of them since I left Washington and moved back here.”
“Whoa,” Alex says, and then he sort of freezes, and I hold my breath, afraid I’ve accomplished what I thought I wanted. To scare him away. Because it’s easier to be alone. Less pain and heartache that way.
Less happiness. Less smiles. Less dates. Less orgasms.
Oh God, I hope I haven’t frightened him away.
After what feels like an eternity, he lifts his beer and chugs, not stopping until the bottle is empty. And then he places it on the counter, his fingers wrapped around the base, while he stares into the other room, at Artie.
And then he shakes his head, and I feel tears welling in my eyes. No, no, no. I didn’t really mean to push him away. I didn’t want this after all. I didn’t—
“My dad’s an idiot.”
I nod.
“And I’m nothing like him.”
I shake my head. I’m still holding my breath, and it’s making me dizzy.
Alex shifts his gaze to me and cocks his head. “Is it weird that I still want to be with you? I mean, are we related through him? Does that make what we did together incest? Not that I care or plan to walk away at this point, but I’m just curious.”
A laugh bubbles up and bursts from my mouth, and I finally start breathing again. “No, we’re not related. We are perfectly within our rights to do any damn thing we choose. Well, maybe not anything. I’m sure some ideas are illegal, so—”
“Like fooling around at a public beach?” He’s moving closer, slowly, like he’s stalking me.
I chuckle. “No one saw us.”
He stops moving, close enough to touch me, but doesn’t reach out his hand. “So you kept him a secret because you knew he was my brother?” he asks.
I sigh. “Not everyone takes to him like you have. His own mother, for example. A few of the guys I dated early on.”
“Ah. So you�
�ve been conditioned to keep him a secret.”
“I’ve been conditioned to avoid actual relationships,” I blurt, the truth coming out unbidden.
“I want you to make a conscious decision to change. Let’s try this, Vicks. You, me, and Artie. Oh, and Toby. Can’t forget the littlest guy in our family.”
Our family.
Those words create this odd, warm sensation in my chest. It’s like I’ve always craved them, what they mean, and I didn’t even realize it. Until now. Until Alex.
Because he’s the only one I can even imagine having a family with.
“You’re okay that I’m a package deal?”
“Considering Artie’s my brother, too, I should get involved with his life, make up for his louse of a father. So either way, you’re stuck with me. Might as well get to have sex out of the deal.”
I shake my head as another laugh gurgles out. This man. How did I get so lucky?
He reaches for me, twines his fingers with mine. “Are you okay that I’m a package deal? I have plenty of room in my heart for you, Artie, Toby, and my mother. And I promise you will be my number one, but she’s still a part of my life, Vicks. I’m all she has.”
“You need to have this conversation with her more than me, don’t you think?”
“Oh, that reminds me.” He bolts from the kitchen, rushes to the backpack he’d left by the door, and returns holding a manila envelope.
“What’s that?”
He offers it to me. “Your new house. Well, the deed and keys, anyway.”
“My what?” I snatch the envelope and tug out a wad of papers. At the top of the first page is my name and an address. The address of my childhood home, next door to his mother.
“You…you bought the house?” I ask dumbly, staring at the documents. “And put it in my name?”
He shakes his head. “My mother did.”
My gaze flies to his face.
“Don’t read into it. Okay, well, do, but not the way you probably are. It’s a peace offering. She said you can do whatever you want with it. Whether that’s sell or move in, she doesn’t care. Well, she does, but it’s your choice, not hers.”
