Changed

by Alicia Renee Kline

  I expected the bed to be as I’d left it when I’d climbed out of it this morning. Sheets and comforter rumpled up and twisted, like it always was. That was how I left it on a daily basis. But Will had taken care of that, too, leaving it in pristine condition, as freshly made as if a photo shoot was about to take place.

  It wasn’t the state of my bedspread that made the breath catch in my lungs.

  No, that would be the t-shirt I’d stolen from him long ago and stashed under my pillow like a favorite teddy bear, now prominently displayed on top of my linens.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The physical bruises had almost healed, barely noticeable even without a heavy layer of makeup. I had returned to work, minus the stiffness and exhaustion that had marked my first few days back to the grind. The insurance companies had settled, the checks had been cut and as far as everyone was concerned, restitution had been made.

  I did end up buying a Lexus. Not the one that I created on my laptop, but an impressive one nonetheless. And buying wasn’t exactly correct either. I ended up leasing a Lexus so I could get the most luxury for my dollar. A shiny, brand new charcoal gray sedan only elicited so much happiness, but I had to play with the cards that I’d been dealt. I also wasn’t entirely above being a tiny bit shallow.

  There was still a hole, so deep in nature that it was cavernous. And try as they might to get it out of me, the two people in my life who would best understand it were left in the dark. Lauren didn’t press, but she had other things on her plate. As I had predicted when she first became pregnant, our friendship was tight as ever, but had morphed into a different version. Blake was a little harder to distract, with us being together forty to fifty hours a week. She’d started back on her idea of me dating Fort Wayne one single man at a time. So far, I’d been able to feign residual effects from the wreck, but that wouldn’t last forever.

  The mantra that I repeated when that look flashed in my boss’s eyes was also getting old. She didn’t buy it, either. But I kept telling her that I was meant to be single. Just because it was the truth - or at least half of it - didn’t make me choke on those words any less.

  Once I’d thought that there was no other way than to live my life unattached. Now I knew that if I couldn’t be with Will, then the only alternative was to never be with anyone else.

  I was about ten cats and a crocheting project away from becoming a spinster.

  But spinsters didn’t wear impossibly high heels or skinny jeans, did they? And old maids didn’t drown their sorrows with the swipe of a credit card and a shopping bag full of clothes, either, so I didn’t quite qualify yet.

  My purchasing sprees never took me to Emma’s workplace. That store was firmly off limits, by my own decision. Even though I’d finally gone through the massive amount of soap I’d bought there, I found other alternatives for toiletries that didn’t involve coming into contact with Will’s offspring.

  So it was only natural that with all my deliberate tactics to avoid her that I’d end up walking out to my car at the same time that she got off of work. She was in the lead, that telltale auburn ponytail bouncing behind her as she went to her vehicle. The Lexus was parked a few rows over and I slowed my pace just in case she might turn around and see me.

  I wasn’t exactly avoiding her, but I didn’t want her to notice me. If she recognized me, she’d undoubtedly stop and make small talk with me, and I didn’t need that. I didn’t need her bubbly, teenage personality reminding me of why I liked her. I didn’t need to look into those eyes that were a clone of her father’s and remember him.

  My car was within touching distance as I heard a protest from a vehicle not that far away, a sound that I recognized from my years of Taurus ownership that signified you were not driving that hunk of junk wherever you had originally intended. Instinctively, I craned my neck to confirm the origin of the trouble. Sure enough, I was able to bring a cloud of red hair into focus, slumped over her steering wheel in a universal gesture of defeat.

  Before I knew what I was doing, even though it was insanely stupid, I changed course mid-stride. Emma had this, I told myself. Every sixteen year old girl had her own cell phone now, right? She’d just whip out that bad boy, call her mom or dad or one of her friends and the immediate crisis would be averted, hopefully in twenty minutes or less.

  Or I could help her now.

  Buoyed by that reality, I continued my way across the parking lot and to her car. Context clues told me she hadn’t yet placed a call to anyone for assistance. Whether that was because she was too upset or too pissed off remained to be seen. I was about to find out.

  Scaring the hell out of her wouldn’t be a good first impression, but thankfully for me, the weather was warm enough that it lent itself well to open windows. As I approached, she likely heard my killer heels coming closer. So she wouldn’t pass the sound off as background noise, I cleared my throat and called her name.

  She still jumped. Her eyes clouded over for a moment, just briefly, until recognition hit. Then, God love her, a smile spread across that face of hers and she rolled down her window further.

  “Ms. Alexander,” she greeted in her tinkly angel voice.

  “Gracie,” I corrected.

  Her pale skin reddened, which I found ten thousand ways of endearing. “Gracie,” she amended.

  “Having troubles?” I prompted.

  “Seems that way.”

  “Do you have it under control?”

  “I haven’t really gotten that far yet.”

  “If you want, I can give you a ride home.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not. I’m offering.”

  The wheels turned in her head as she debated. At least one of us was considering if this was a good idea or not. After a brief pause, I saw a decision form in her mind. With a nod, she accepted.

  “My car’s a couple rows over. I can go get it and bring it over here if you want.”

  “No, I can walk. No big deal.” That decided, she exited the vehicle, grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, and slung it over her shoulder. “Lead the way.”

  “So where are you at tonight? Mom’s or dad’s?”

  My question was unnecessary, but she didn’t know that. It was Wednesday. She was at Will’s.

  “Dad’s.”

  Yet another thing I hadn’t thought fully through until way too late. How was I going to play this? Would I pretend that I had no clue where he lived? Would I lie and say that I’d been over to his place before, safely chaperoned by our mutual group of friends? Somehow Will didn’t seem like the kind of man that entertained.

  “Does he live close?” I asked, making my choice on the fly.

  “Not too far from here. Right before you get downtown.”

  I nodded, hoping it looked authentic. “I work downtown, so I shouldn’t get lost on my way back.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.”

  We were close enough to my car now that I pressed the button on my key chain to unlock it. The taillights flashed, and I caught the surprise on her face when she saw what I drove.

  “That’s a nice car,” she breathed.

  “I know. Trust me; I’ve spent way more time driving something like your car than something like this. I totaled my piece of crap a couple weeks ago.”

  We climbed in and I started up the engine.

  “Oh, right. The accident. Dad told me about that.”

  “He did?” I coughed to hide my shock. Why in the hell would he tell her that? “He gave me a ride home that day. So consider this me returning the favor.”

  Without the sex, of course.

  “It’s still really nice of you.”

  “Don’t mention it. And you’re welcome. So where are we headed?”

  She pointed me in the general direction of downtown and we took off, in silence for the first couple minutes as she settled back in her leather seat and enjoyed the ride. I heard her squirm rather than felt it, and was i
n the process of turning to her when she spoke up.

  “Gracie, can I ask you something?”

  “Go for it.”

  “I mean, your parents are divorced, right?” she prefaced. Yet another piece of my life history I didn’t know she knew until now.

  “Yep. What’s up?”

  “I don’t know how to say this. I think my dad’s dating someone.”

  My fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, the jealousy flooding through my veins immediately. Then I realized that she more than likely was referring to me. My hold became even more vice like. Talk about some white knuckle driving.

  “Why would you say that?” I inquired as nonchalantly as possible.

  “Okay, so dating’s not the right word. I think he wants to date someone, but he’s holding back. I think it’s because of me.”

  You thought right, sister.

  “Dad was really broken up when my mom left him. She’d found someone else, and he begged and begged her to reconsider. He promised he’d forgive her for having an affair. He told her they could go to counseling together and work through things. She strung him along for a long time, while she was going behind his back and stashing away money and talking with a lawyer. Her filing divorce papers blindsided him. He loved her, loved being in love, loved being married to her. In fact, it took him a long time after things were finalized to take off his wedding ring. He believed that it could still work, and he didn’t give up until he knew it was really over.”

  I’d guessed as much, but hearing how much his daughter had witnessed without him intending drove it all home for me. And speaking of driving home, we were running out of time for our discussion. We were almost there.

  “Mom got rid of her ring a long time before. You know what she did with it? She flushed it down the toilet.”

  I gasped audibly.

  She clasped her hand over her mouth. “Please don’t tell him that. He doesn’t know.”

  “We don’t talk. But don’t worry; I won’t.”

  Emma gave shitty directions. Our turn was coming up, and I was fighting my instinct to slow down. When she finally instructed me to turn, I ended up slamming on my brakes to do so. To say my new vehicle was quite responsive was an understatement. We both almost ate windshield.

  “So, getting back to the present, I think he’s head over heels for someone again. But he’s scared, Gracie.”

  “And why are you so sure?”

  “I think it’s been going on for a while. He started to come out of his funk. He used to be sad when I’d spend weekends with Mom, like he was lonely without me. Then all of a sudden, he seemed almost happy when they rolled around.”

  If I was a betting woman, I’d wager that I knew exactly when his opinion of weekends had brightened.

  “Turn here,” she commanded again. “I was relieved for him. But then something happened - something that I think he put into motion - and the old, divorced him is back. How do I get him past that, Gracie? How do I convince him that I’m cool with it? That I want him to find love again; that he doesn’t have to worry about what I think because I trust him?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know what advice I can offer here. My parents had both moved on before their marriage was officially over, so they didn’t have problems with the whole dating after divorce thing. I guess I can say that maybe he just needs more time to wrap his head around it. And maybe you should share your concerns with him.”

  “I can’t talk to him about that kind of stuff.”

  “Why not?”

  Likely the same reason that I couldn’t talk to him about that kind of stuff without him swallowing a little liquid courage first. And even then, I barely got him to scratch the surface.

  “It was the first time in a long time that I’ve seen him happy, Gracie,” she said instead of answering my question. “And since whatever happened happened, he’s been more miserable than I can remember.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” she confirmed.

  Up ahead, I could see Will’s police car parked at the curb in front of the duplex. I wondered if she’d take me back behind the place, or if she’d have me park out front.

  “Pull up here.”

  The front it was. I slid in behind the cop car, then put the car in park.

  “Your dad is lucky to have someone like you,” I said honestly. “It’s really sweet that you worry about him and you want the best for him. Maybe you could start with that. He needs to hear it from somebody. Maybe it could be you.”

  “What do I know about love? I’m only sixteen.”

  I smiled sadly. “I’m only twenty-five. That may seem ancient to someone like you, but I don’t have much real world experience, either. Certainly not here, anyway.”

  “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

  My eyes swung over to his place. Light shone through the windows, signifying that he was most definitely inside. I knew if we’d driven around back that the Jeep would be parked there, too.

  “I can’t. I should be getting home.”

  She nodded, like she totally expected me to say no. Perhaps she was so used to her father’s loner status that she would have been shocked if I’d accepted the invitation. Good thing I hadn’t opted for the playing cards at his house one night scenario I’d pushed around in my head before pleading ignorance on where he lived.

  “But you could do something for me,” I blurted impulsively.

  Emma had hunched over in her seat to collect her purse from the floorboard of the car. She froze mid-grab. Her eyes snapped to mine. “Sure.”

  “Could you not tell him that I brought you home? If he asks, just say that a friend dropped you off.”

  Her face fell. Whatever she had been looking for, whatever she’d blindly agreed to do for me, that was clearly not it.

  “Yeah, Gracie. No problem.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I should be thanking you. I’ll give you gas money, if you want.”

  I shook my head violently. “No. Friends don’t take each other’s gas money.”

  A beautiful, genuine smile lit her features. Possibly because I’d referred to her as a friend? Guilt washed over me as I thought about that glimmer of hope that I’d dangled in front of her. There was no way that I could ever be her friend, even if it wasn’t crazy weird that she’d consider it cool to hang out with me.

  I couldn’t be her friend because I’d slept with her father.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to come in?” she tried again.

  “I’m sure.”

  Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, but she recovered so quickly it was likely I’d imagined it. She snatched up her purse, turned to me once more and thanked me yet again before climbing out of the car.

  “Have a good night, Emma,” I called out behind her.

  She spun around. “You, too.”

  I watched her as she glided up the sidewalk. I continued to watch as she dug in her purse, withdrew her key and unlocked the front door. As she entered her part-time home, she waved in my general direction. I waved back. Then the door closed and she disappeared.

  But I didn’t leave, not right away. I settled back against my seat, twisted so I was facing Will’s duplex. The car was still idling, but I had half a mind to shut off the engine, vacate the vehicle, and go bounding up to the door to belatedly accept Emma’s invitation.

  Stephanie had flushed her wedding ring down the toilet.

  If anything could make me hate that bitch even more, then that was it.

  If I needed another excuse to yearn to take Will into my arms again - which I didn’t - that was it.

  Wedding rings were sacred. Everything that I’d ever been taught told me that. And though I didn’t know what had become of my father’s band, I knew my mother had kept hers and her engagement ring sealed in one of those canning jars, which she’d stashed in an unused register in the floor of her temporary apartment. They were worth money, and even though she didn’t want to be marr
ied to my dad any more, they also meant something to her. I’d no clue what had become of them since she’d moved half a country away, but I sincerely doubted that they’d ended up in the sewer system.

  If I wanted more recent examples, I didn’t need to look any further than Lauren or Blake. Matthew and Blake had custom designed Lauren’s set, a perfectly breathtaking symbol of his devotion to her. And Lauren had been overcome with emotion when he’d presented it to her. And though Blake’s engagement ring was nowhere near as flashy as her sister-in-law’s, Chris had purchased it during college. Then he’d held onto it for ten years through all of their trials and tribulations until the time was right to give it to her. Or until she’d happened upon it in his underwear drawer while cleaning up after a particularly passionate round of sex. Whatever. It was the thought that counted.

  I was certain that Will had purchased Stephanie’s ring with as much love and enthusiasm as Matthew or Chris had theirs. Maybe even more so, considering the kind of guy he was. I was equally as sure that he had placed it on her finger with the intention that it would never be removed. That she would never fathom taking it off, let alone disposing of it in such a disgusting way.

  And Emma knew. Whether or not she had witnessed the dumping ceremony didn’t really matter. Had Stephanie done it in front of her? Had she flushed in private and then bragged later? Either way, that gesture didn’t do anything to garner a nomination for mother of the year.

  Meanwhile, poor Will had been in denial. I’d always wondered why the indentation from his wedding band hadn’t been long gone by the time we’d hooked up. Even a quick divorce took a while. Now I had my answer. He’d held on until the very last possible moment. And then he’d held on longer.

  Stephanie was a bitch. And Stephanie didn’t deserve Will or Emma. Yet she had them both.

  Which left me with nothing. Which left me sitting outside a duplex on the outskirts of downtown Fort Wayne, prisoner in my car because I couldn’t work up the courage to stop staring in his window from afar and actually do something about it.

  And Will would never ask for my help. He would never beg me to fix him, to show him that I could make him believe in love again, believe in us. There was no way that I could repair the scars upon his heart without his permission.