“Go ahead and eat, hon. I won’t stay long.”
“Good. Because I don’t have any kid friendly places to set Sadie down. And don’t even think about buying something to leave over here.”
She ignored me. Not because she was offended, but because it was the appropriate thing to do. Like I hadn’t uttered a word, she continued on with her thought process. “I wanted to see how things went today.”
“Okay I think.” I chewed as I contemplated. “Blake doesn’t seem ready to kill me yet, so that’s a plus. But I kind of feel like she’s doing this all to be nice. And I’m going to end up dragging her down in the long run.”
“Sweetie,” she cooed, patting my leg with the hand nearest me, “you’ve got to get over the whole not deserving this thing. Blake didn’t come up with this because she felt sorry for you. You’re not a charity case. I promise. So interior design is worlds away from banking; you’ll master them both because you are just that kind of person.”
I nodded and she continued with words of encouragement. Lauren was excellent with that kind of thing; quick with the sage advice that sounded like it was coming from a motherly presence with about twenty more years of experience than she actually had. But I had stopped listening.
Not because I was rude. I needed the ego boost she was dishing out. No, I wasn’t listening because somehow my ears had picked up the chatter on the television. Though the volume was barely above a whisper, I’d clearly made out the words “police” and “shooting”. The picture superimposed above the news anchor’s shoulder confirmed it; a portrait some graphic artist had slapped together showing a generic gun and the red and blue lights of a cop car. Emblazoned over the square were the words “officer shot”.
It was then that my heart stopped beating and the color drained from my face.
“Gracie? What’s wrong?”
I lunged for the remote, ratcheting up the sound until I could make sense of the smooth, professionally uttered words. “Shhh,” I commanded. Wisely, she did.
We sat through the segment, the retelling of the story. A traffic stop gone wrong. The bad guy had a gun and a couple of warrants out on him already. He didn’t want to go down for them. So he’d pulled the gun and shot. Either he hadn’t been aiming to kill or he was lousy with his firearm skills, for the officer had just been grazed in the shoulder. He was treated and released from the hospital already, and the officer’s name was given, but not comprehended because it didn’t belong to Will.
So what if that made me an awful person? At least I was honest. It wasn’t like I wanted anyone to get shot ever, but especially not that anyone.
The newscast broke for commercial, and I tried as calmly as I could to pick back up the remote and lower the volume to its previous level.
“What was that all about?” Lauren pressed. “It’s not like you’ve come fresh off the bus from utopia. We have crime here up north, too.”
Shit. Now that the crisis had been averted, I’d have to explain myself. Fortunately, even though I was still on the verge of hyperventilating, my brain hadn’t quit working. I shrugged, which would have been a hell of a lot more convincing had I done it without shaking.
“We know a cop. Didn’t it make you think of Will and wonder if he could have been somehow involved? Or worse yet, that it could have been him that got shot?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
Anger flared in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t her fault; she was only speaking honestly. Will was just a bit player in her saga. Still, I felt the need to defend him.
“He’s got a daughter, you know.”
Lauren’s hazel eyes widened. “Will has a kid?”
“More like a young woman.” I swallowed down the irony in that observation and clarified. “Emma is sixteen.”
“Damn. Was she born when he was like ten?”
“No. When he was twenty. He’s thirty-six.”
She did some mental calculations and nodded. “How do you know all of this and I don’t?”
“Because we talked about it.” Which was true. “At your wedding.” Not true.
“I don’t recall him talking to anyone at my wedding. Or to anyone at any time, anywhere for that matter.”
“You were busy. You left your own reception early. And it’s surprising the number of things you can get out of a person when they’ve had a bit to drink.”
She considered this for a moment, during which I bit my lip and tried not to look too eager for her to accept my explanation at face value. Relief flooded my veins when I saw her digest my words as truth.
“For a moment there, you almost sounded motherly,” she grinned. “Thinking of his family like that.”
“What can I say? I’m a nice person.”
Really, I was completely selfish and Emma hadn’t even factored into my thoughts until I could name drop her as a valid excuse. But Lauren didn’t need to know that.
“Well, as much as this has been an enlightening pit stop, Sadie and I need to get going. She’s due for a feeding in a few, and then after that it’s dinner for her parents. I’m already starving, so hopefully she’ll make it quick.”
I pointed to my sandwich. “You want the rest of this?”
She giggled. “Nah. I think I’ll live.”
I stood and showed the two of them out, leaning up against the door for support as I tried to regain my composure. Since I wouldn’t be capable of eating anything further tonight, I took my plate to the kitchen and disposed of the rest.
My next stop was the master bedroom. I bent down on the floor by my bed, sticking my hand underneath until it made contact with the box that I’d hidden from view on moving day. My intimates had been removed and tucked away in their respective drawers, but I wasn’t after them. I pried open the lid and pulled out what I was looking for, holding it up reverently in front of me.
It still smelled like him.
And that was the first night that I slept with Will’s t-shirt stuffed under my pillow.
Chapter Thirteen
By Wednesday afternoon I was more than ready for some retail therapy. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like I was cracking under pressure, or that Blake had become an unexpected slave driver, it was that I was sinking under interior design overload. It was harder than I thought to switch gears from the banking industry - full of rules, regulations, and black and white realities - to a more creative endeavor.
So instead of going home after longingly staring down the road that led to Will’s duplex, I made a detour into the open air mall that I liked to frequent. Unlike my last visit here, snow was a distant memory and a hint of early spring warmth played at my shoulders as I walked across the parking lot.
Without a true direction, I wandered the sidewalks, stopping at storefronts and admiring the items chosen for display. When something caught my eye I’d flit inside to take a look. My thrifty self checked the price before deciding whether or not it was a possibility. I found myself putting everything back. A combination of not yet having my first paycheck from my new job and uncertainty with who I wanted to be. While my bank clothes were working handily for the time being, I knew that Blake with the blue hair and intrinsic sense of style would let me experiment with my outward appearance as much as I wanted. I wasn’t yet sure of the persona I was after.
What I was sure of was that when I found myself in front of the store that sold the expensive soaps and toiletries that I would be going inside. I was certain this was the place that Will had been talking about when he told me where Emma worked. After all, the body wash in his shower had come from there, and what sixteen year old girl wouldn’t use her employee discount to indulge in some of the finer things in life? It wasn’t like I was stalking the poor girl. She might not even be there working. Besides, I could justify a splurge of my own.
Mind made up, I swung open the door and strolled inside. Being a slow night, I was the only customer in the place. The lady at the register looked up from her smartphone and greeted me with fake enth
usiasm. I responded in kind, silently glad that she was older than me and she couldn’t possibly be Will’s offspring. As much as I was curious, I wasn’t positive I was ready to come face to face with the reality that the man I was sleeping with had a daughter with a job.
I was off in my own little perfume hazed world when I heard someone else ask me the innocuous question: “Are you finding everything okay?”
“I’m just looking,” came my automatic reply. I turned to flash the recipient a well meaning smile, then stopped dead in my tracks.
Before me stood the spitting image of what I could only imagine would be a female version of Will. Not in a creepy way, but in the way that Blake and Matthew favored each other - how it made perfect sense that they were related because there were so many similarities in their appearance. I didn’t need to consult the badge pinned to her apron that proclaimed she was Emma to know who she was, though I stared at it like an idiot.
She was beautiful. Same green eyes that now stared expectantly at me. Perfect creamy complexion untouched by blemishes, made even more lovely with the slightest bit of makeup. Auburn hair that hinted at the wave of her father’s, but was expertly tamed in a ponytail. Like she’d been mastering that look for her entire life, because that was the only way it didn’t overpower her delicate features.
From the girl that stood before me, I knew I’d get no clue of what Stephanie looked like. It didn’t appear as if she’d contributed anything, like his ex-wife was just a blank slate upon which Will had created something awesome.
“You know what?” I asked just as she was about to leave me alone, “I was looking for a new body wash to try. What do you use?”
I knew damn well exactly what she used, but I felt the sudden urge not to let her walk away from me just yet.
“Oh,” she snapped to attention and put on her best salesgirl tone. I maybe fell in love with her at that moment. She was so obviously trying hard to impress me with her knowledge while hoping that the lady working with her would overhear that the whole thing was endearing.
I listened patiently through her pitch until she plucked a container from the shelf, popped it open, and passed it to me for a whiff. Sure enough, I was transported back to the first night Will and I slept together. No way in hell I was buying that if it was her signature scent. But I also knew I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. And I hoped she got some kind of a commission or a sales bonus or something because I was feeling generous.
“I don’t know,” I said, scrunching up my face in contemplation, “it’s a little too - something for my taste.”
Emma nodded enthusiastically, securing the flip top cap and placing the bottle back on the display. She bit her lip as she considered her options. Like a light bulb went off in her head, she sprung back to life and grabbed another selection.
“Here. Try this.”
I took the bottle from her and breathed in deeply. A warm vanilla smell filled my nostrils. Nothing wrong with that. She caught my smile and continued on with her script.
“It’s our most popular fragrance,” she asserted.
“I can see why. I like it.”
“Great. We’ve also got the matching body lotion, hand cream and spray. You could pretty much be head to toe vanilla goodness.”
That last part was said with so much sincerity that it didn’t sound cheesy at all. In fact, I had the indescribable compulsion to wrap my arms around her and squeeze her until her cute little bubble burst and the room was filled with candy canes and dancing snowflakes. If anyone could be head to toe goodness, it was her.
Instead I restrained myself and filled my arms with the products that she suggested. No need to clue her in to the fact that I’d already decided to be a big spender. No, it was much more of a confidence boost to let her believe her upsell had worked.
She helped me carry my selections to the register, where she slid behind the counter, giving her coworker - and most likely her supervisor - a satisfied grin as she began to ring me up. The older lady nodded approvingly as she backed away and let Emma bask in the glory of her sales victory.
Meanwhile, I pretended that I wasn’t about to fall over and die when she gave me the damage. Buoyed by the fact that my direct deposit would hit before my next credit card statement came, I handed over the plastic. Like a good cashier, she flipped my card over and studied where my signature should have been located.
It was a weird banking tic that I had picked up, not ever signing my credit cards. The point of doing so was that the merchant was supposed to ask for identification when I used it, though it was hit and miss if they did. Miss By-the-Book Emma did.
“Can I see your driver’s license, please?” she asked.
I handed it over and she stared at it, more than giving it a passing glance. Her daddy would be proud; she was probably a future cop in the making. Something crossed over her face as she looked over it; her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I know this sounds weird,” she said as she returned my driver’s license and my card, “but do you know my dad?”
Shit. Fucking hell. I’d been caught.
I doubted that the appropriate answer to her question was “intimately”.
She took my silent, deer in the headlights look correctly as confusion, though she likely didn’t understand the cause of it.
“You know the Snyders, right? Matthew and Blake. No. Wait. She’s a Taylor now.”
“Yes.” I drug that one word out as far as possible, afraid to see where the affirmative response led.
“I’m Will’s daughter. Emma Delaney. You were in Matthew’s wedding together.”
“Oh!” I said as if realization had just struck. “Yeah, we were.”
“I thought I recognized your name. You’re Lauren’s friend from Indianapolis. Dad mentioned you.”
He did? Whatever for?
“That I am. Though I’m more like plain old Lauren’s friend now. I just moved up here.”
“That’s cool. I hope you enjoy Fort Wayne.”
“Me too.”
She’d wrapped my purchases as we conversed, and she placed the bag that contained them atop the counter. Then she tore the receipt from the register and handed it over to me, giving me a genuine - not a salesgirl - smile. Pleased that she’d made the connection, she brought that sentiment to words.
“It was nice to meet you Ms. Alexander.”
“Gracie,” I amended. Though she’d definitely been raised correctly with the whole respecting your elders thing, I barely felt like I qualified as such.
“Gracie,” she repeated. “I’ll have to tell my dad that I saw you.”
Something told me that her news flash wouldn’t go over well, but that she wouldn’t be the one to bear the consequences. However, I was stuck. If I lunged across the register and grabbed her by the apron, begging her not to tell, that would just raise suspicion.
All I could do now was pray that by the time she headed home, she’d forget about her chance meeting with the woman her dad was sleeping with.
Chapter Fourteen
She hadn’t forgotten.
That much was evident the moment Will opened his door for me on Friday night. The look of anticipation that typically graced his features when he was about to get laid was completely gone. He was back to being stone-faced, much like when I’d run across him at the bar that fateful night.
“Hey,” I said in an attempt to break the ice. Though I tried to keep my voice light, it was clear that I knew something was up. Clear that I knew he knew. Clear that I knew this didn’t fill him with joy.
“Hey.”
Instead of welcoming me with a kiss, he turned on his heel and retreated back to the couch, leaving me to to close the door behind myself. I took the few tentative steps into his home to find myself standing right in front of him, unable to convince myself to relax enough to slide into place on the cushion beside him.
“So,” I began.
“So. Emma tells me that you met each other on Wednesday nigh
t.”
“She’d be correct.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I needed soap. That’s what I was thinking.”
“Now’s not the time to be cute, Gracie.”
“Seriously. I was thinking that I wanted some soap, and I was already out shopping and then there I was. And then there she was. And though I knew who she was right away, I didn’t expect that she would know me. And if I wouldn’t have bought something, I might not have been found out. When she saw my ID, she put two and two together and that’s it.”
“I thought you knew where I stood on things.”
“Will, you never stop reminding me. But it’s not like I outed us or anything. You’re the one that mentioned me to her - what the hell’s up with that? I didn’t reach across the counter, shake hands with her and announce that you and I are bumping uglies. Is that what you’re scared of?”
“First of all, she’s seen pictures of Matthew and Lauren’s wedding. She asked me who everyone was. I told her what I knew. She thought you were pretty.”
I softened, but only momentarily. “She’s pretty too.”
“Secondly, I’m not scared of people finding out about us.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“What you have to realize is that I was married, Gracie. Married. I have a kid. A kid that’s old enough to know what’s going on. This isn’t high school, darling. I didn’t just break up with my girlfriend on the way to the prom. What we’re doing has to be handled discreetly because it doesn’t just affect the two of us.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
“What?”
“Darling. It’s a term of endearment if you haven’t noticed. You can’t just whip it out to smooth things over. It’s not the magic balm that will make this okay.”
“We had an agreement.”
“Yes, and I’m trying to negotiate things with you. I wasn’t being pushy. I wasn’t being overbearing. I wasn’t stalking Emma. I stood in a store with her and had a conversation about body wash. Then she asked me if I knew you. You act like that’s a crime.”
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