“She’s mine, dammit…and don’t you ever get any ideas in your head, you got it?” He grinned, heading towards the elevator just as JT pressed his hands out in front of himself and laughed hysterically. Let the douche laugh, she was his. Always his—in all the senses she could be, all the ways he’d ever dreamed of her to be. She was the completion he needed, his meaning, and his number one purpose.
* * *
The house was silent when he arrived home, which was strange because his mom was always there. Worry plagued his chest, and he dashed through the living room like the house was on fire—like his legs were both attached. David set himself in motion until his breath was panting and he was standing right outside his parents’ bedroom door.
He blinked. His throat burned from the dryness. Stunned at what he saw there in the darkness of the room, he somehow still managed to make it over the threshold.
Napping was not in his mother’s usual agenda, but there she was, doing just that. Having not seen her since Friday, he crept closer, needing to see her now—needing to check on her. His knees hit the mattress and he leaned over to look at her face. Shit… she looked a fucking mess. Slowly, he sat down on the blanket adjacent to her feet, peeking up at her in greater detail. Dark pocketed lines sat under her eyes, like she’d either been crying a lot, or she was just downright exhausted. David’s guess was both.
But he had to wake her, had to play it cool too. Because he promised his dad he wouldn’t say anything. He promised to stay quiet, until they could discuss things as a family. But seeing her and not saying something was going to be damn hard.
“Mom,” his voice was a whispered choke as he pressed his fingers against her shoulder. “Mom, I’m home.” He swallowed just as she rolled over onto her back.
“Wow. David. I’m sorry honey. I just must have been tired.” She darted upwards, smiling her normal genuine smile at him as she rubbed her eyes. It was hard to smile back, even harder to make it seem as if he didn’t know the truth.
“No biggie.” He shrugged, staring down at the flowered pattern of the bed spread.
“You look good, Son. Dad said you went to Abigail’s last night?” He glanced up at her, eyes widening at the words. There was excitement behind her grin—probably over the prospect of him and Abs—but for the first time, in a long time, he didn’t mind seeing it there.
“I did…” he nodded, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.
Her smile broadened, “And…?”
“We’re finally together now.” Wow. Where did that come from? Today was a day of shares, apparently. He hadn’t intended on telling them yet, but seeing her so happy at the prospect, made it all worthwhile.
Tiny arms wrapped around his neck—god, had his mother always been this skinny? It was in his head, it had to be. Paranoia was a bitch. He swallowed as she squeezed him. Dammit, how many more times did he have left to get these hugs from her? Tears stung his eyes, but he kept them from falling.
“Well, it’s about time you got over yourself and did something about it.” Damn this woman.
“Yeah, well, the California trip kind of put it all in perspective for me.”
“So you did go out there to be with her then…” It was a statement. Not a question. The woman was a damn genius.
“Uh, kind of? I mean, I was worried about her.”
“Because you love her…”
“Jeez Mom, nothing like putting it all out there at once…” She slipped her feet over the edge of the bed and grabbed his arm with her hand to pull him up, too.
“Come on, I’ll make some lunch for us. Then you can give me the PG version of what happened.”
Christ, his mother was a fucking trip. And he loved the hell out of her. “I will, Ma, but I kind of need your help with something, too.”
She led him down the hall, her shoulders held back—eyes wide as she stared up at him. Knowingness appeared in her grin once again. “You need help with wooing? Simple…”
Wooing. What the fuck is wooing?
“Uh, I guess, whatever that means. We have our first official date tonight, and I have the perfect location in mind, but otherwise, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Flittering around the kitchen, his mother held a smile as she readied something to eat. “Well, I can handle the food part. You handle the location.”
“Food?”
“Yes Son, the food. As in, the picnic food?”
“Picnic?” His head tipped to the side. A picnic… Huh…it might just work.
“Yes, silly. Harley loved it when Mason took her on that picnic down by the lake before homecoming last year. She said it was the most rom—”
“Mom, seriously?” He cringed sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms, “I don’t want to hear about Harley’s and Mason’s rendezvous in the park.” Really though, after the visit with them both, Mason had moved down his shit scale to the point of being sort of cool. Just sort of though. He just didn’t want him to pressure his sister into doing the whole marriage thing, especially if she wasn’t ready.
Did his mom know that about her daughter’s precious surfer boy and what he’d gone and done? What would she think of him if she knew what he was up to?
“How is my baby girl anyway? We’re thinking about taking a trip there around Christmas. Maybe you and Abigail could go, too.”
Christmas… He froze at that one simple word. His hands plastered to the table top, his stomach churned, suddenly no longer hungry for food. This Christmas might be his mother’s last. But the way she spoke, the way she bounced around as she made the damn sandwiches, you’d never think of her as woman who was on the verge of death. She floored him, completely.
Lacking any real words, David stuttered hoping he was coherent. “Uh, she’s great. Happy,” kind of… “I’d love to go back.”
“Great, we’ll plan on it then.” He wanted to say it then, wanted ask her about the disease secretly stealing her away. He wanted answers most of all. Wanted to know when she planned on telling them all. Needed to know that she was going to try and fight this. But still, she stood there, so uncaring about the bad, focused fully on the good that was her children’s lives.
He watched her curls bob around her shoulders, the sunlight reflecting off her body like a halo. She was a beautiful woman, an awesome mom who got blunt, and emotional, and sappy. But she was his, the only one he’d ever have. And he’d make sure to do whatever it took to be the son he once was, for her.
No more pity party.
No more hatred for himself and his situation.
His mother deserved it…
Chapter Twenty–One
It was raining, well, sprinkling really. But still, how could they possibly have a good first date if it was wet outside? It was an omen… She was sure of it. Abigail wasn’t one to fear the worst things in life. In fact, she always had tried to stay on the positive side of things. But tonight, she was filled with that annoying sense of trepidation. It clamped down on her insides, ripping her stomach to shreds, causing her heartbeat to double in its intense pounding against her breastbone. Her hand flexed and un–flexed against her chest as she paced the front sidewalk. Her other hand flattened over her lower abdomen, a piss–poor attempt at keeping those wicked, anxious butterflies from tumbling around.
The September weather had taken a turn for the worst, taking the warm summer air and shoving it out of its way to make room for this cold, rainy crap. She’d at least dressed the part, right down to the boots covering her little–too–snug around the waist skinny jeans, topping the entire outfit off with a bulky brown sweater that would most definitely hide the bulge peeking out from beneath her bellybutton.
Shit though, she’d read up on all the books, and according to most of them, it said she wouldn’t start showing for at least another month. What the hell was her issue then?
Shaking her head, she slipped her phone from her purse, deciding a little gaming was necessary while she waited for the ride she was told would be
here at six–thirty, sharp. It was now six–thirty–one. She wasn’t a patient girl.
After a round with witches, rescuing pets, and eliminating little candy jellies from cages, Abigail decided that she needed some serious game rehabilitation. Or David just needed to get his big old bulky body there instead. Yeah, the big old bulky body that she couldn’t wait to see naked again.
Almost giving up, she pressed the number to dial his phone when the time read seven. It rang once before his breathless voice sounded on the other end. “Abs, where are you?”
“Umm, I don’t know…maybe waiting at my house for you to get here?”
“Aw, fuck…he didn’t show?”
She scowled down at the ground, digging her foot into the crevice of the sidewalk. “Who am I supposed to be waiting for anyways? Who didn’t show?”
“My buddy, JT. His dad runs this limo service in town, and he was getting one to pick you up and…shit…dammit, get away you mangy mutt!” The sound of the phone clattered to the ground. She giggled as his curses echoed on the other end. “Jesus Christ…all right, just…fuck, just wait like, five minutes. Someone will be there to get you. I’ve gotta go before this random, nasty, stray dog eats all the cheesecake.”
The phone beeped, signaling the end of their call. She shook her head, grinning. She no longer cared if he was late…the boy had gone and gotten her cheesecake. All was definitely forgiven if cheesecake was involved.
Five more minutes ticked by before a car finally skidded up the driveway. But it wasn’t David, nor Mr. A, nor David’s friend. Behind the wheel instead sat Mrs. A, a smile bright on her face, genuine love in her eyes. Abigail held her breath at the vision, unmoving, not knowing if she wanted to cry, or run and hug her instead. She settled on none of the above because she’d promised David that she’d keep the secret as well, and an ugly cry might just drop some obvious hints. But acting the part of not knowing about her sickness would have to be Oscar–worthy tonight.
“Hey Mrs. A.” Voice squeaking a little too brightly, Abigail settled into the passenger seat.
Arms latched around her shoulders as Mrs. A pulled her into a tight hug. She smelled like cookies, which wasn’t surprising because the woman was always baking something. She gave Betty Crocker a serious run for her money. “Oh Abigail, it’s good to see you sweetheart. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
Smiling into her shoulder, Abigail wrapped her arms around her pseudo mom and hugged her back, something fierce. “You too.”
Mrs. A pulled back, but kept her hands on her shoulders. Her curls fell to the side, her dark eyes searching her face. Abigail suddenly felt like a wanted prisoner in a line up, waiting to be identified. What was she looking at? And why was she so…so smiley? “You’re glowing. Pregnancy suits you well, my love.” She patted her cheek and started the car back up.
Holy. Hell. She knew? Her brows pinched together. Then it hit her…damn did her best friend have a big–ass mouth! “Uh…” What could she say? Because a thank you did not seem a tiny bit appropriate.
“That’s a compliment sweetie,” she put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Abigail chewed on her lip, watching her face brighten the more she spoke. “And I honestly thought Harley would give me my first grandbaby, but now I know I was only fooling myself.”
How was the lady not pissed about this? How was she not screaming at the stupidity of their mistake? Sure, they were nineteen, but they had no goals, nothing to show for themselves yet. Granted they both attended some sort of college, but beyond that neither one of them really had much of a plan. Maybe that’s why they were meant to be in the end: They were just two lost souls, looking for a balance to their lives, finding it in each other. Yeah, she knew that was the stuff of movies but she always knew, too, deep down, that the two of them were meant to be.
“Have you been waiting long? David was pretty frantic when he called.”
Suddenly nervous over God only knows what, Abigail shrugged, messing around with the loops of her sweater. “Not too long, a half hour maybe.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. David had such good intentions for tonight, too.”
Blushing, she smiled over at Mrs. A’s honest face. “No worries. I know it wasn’t his fault.”
“Hmm.” It was the only response she got back in return. What was she hmm–ing about? Had the truth finally come forefront to the lady’s brain, making her realize that her son was screwed now? God, it was hot in there. She needed some serious air. “You warm, hon?”
Blinking, she stared over at her profile again. Sweat was pooling against her pseudo mom’s temple, running down behind her ear. Oh God, it was more than obvious she wasn’t feeling well. Why had she come to get her then? She should have just driven. Granted, she had no idea where she’d be going and all, but still, Mrs. A was sick…dying sick. She didn’t need to be out and about playing her date chauffeur when she could easily be doing the driving herself. Deciding to play up the card she’d been given, Abigail fanned her face as she spoke. “Yeah, sweating bullets here—must be my hormones or something.”
She nodded over at her, in what appeared to be relief before switching on the air conditioner. “Yeah, humidity will do that to you too, sweetie.”
Okay, this was an awkward ride. Nothing about her relationship with David and Harley’s mom had been weird in the past either. But suddenly, it all just seemed…wrong. Not wrong in the sense that it wasn’t right, more like wrong being something was missing. Okay, she’d do something about this. And she’d do it now.
“I can’t fit into my pants anymore…”
Well fuck a monkey. That was beyond ridiculous. Well said Abs, well said.
Brows raised, Mrs. A glanced down at Abigail’s waistline for a brief second before refocusing on the road. “Well…twins will do that to you, ya know.” She winked. Why the hell was she winking? This was not something wink–worthy. The thought of having twins never even crossed her mind. It was not an option. Not at all. Totally not. Definitely non–doable here.
Stiffened to the point of being an icicle, Abigail stared holes into her hands that sat trembling against her legs. Christ…but what if it was? Twins? A David plus one? Or even two of her…or one of each of them? Lord help her, because if she was somehow pregnant with twins, then life as she once knew it? Hell…what would it be like? She didn’t have a damn clue. Mrs. A did it…but Mrs. A was also super mom with a cleaning rag seemingly attached to her shoulder. Abigail didn’t like to clean. Abigail liked to do hair…and makeup. Running one of her trembling hands through her hair, she leaned back in her seat, and tried to let the reality of the words sink in. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t happening.
Twins? Hell no.
The sense–making woman sitting to her left continued to spout off the most incomprehensible stuff in her ear. Or…maybe it was the simple fact that Abigail just didn’t want to listen. “I mean, I was in maternity pants at nine weeks sweetie. So it’s quite possible you may just have your very own little David and Harley in there, too.”
“Uh…” her mouth hung open and her throat was burning from dryness. Why did she make this seem like such a good thing? Mrs. A’s hand patted hers before gripping it fully within her hold. It was obvious she saw the gaping look on her face, because their preggo–twin conversation came to a sudden stop.
That was good. More than good. The last thing she needed was to be thinking on their first date, that they may be needing to buy twice as much baby stuff when the time came down to doing this whole parenting shindig.
They pulled up to their old high school, yet she didn’t have time to stop and wonder why they were there. All she could think about—all she could see—was the six foot plus man leaning against the gate of the football field, with one single yellow rose in his hands. She swallowed, reaching for the door, one goal on her mind. David. Getting to David… Kissing David… She smiled, that is until Mrs. A opened her mouth again.
“You’re going to be a great mom,
Abigail. And David, whether he thinks it or not, was born to be a daddy.” The voice that held strength and all things pride for her family flittered away. And in its place was the sound of a devastating emotion that Abigail didn’t expect. Desperation… Sadness… Grief…
David forgotten, Abigail faced his mother. Her eyes were filled with tears as she stared out the front window. They were like tiny crystals peeking to the surface, but not quite to the point where they would be big enough to be captured by her eyelashes just yet.
Abigail’s voice was dulled as it sat almost dormant in her aching throat. Dammit. There was nothing fair about life. “Mrs. A, I just want to say—”
“I’m not gone yet, Abs. Don’t make it seem as though I am…” Frozen, with her hand pressed over her lips, Abigail watched as those tears broke free. Oh God…what was she doing? What was she saying here? Mrs. A couldn’t be telling her the truth. Her own children weren’t even supposed to know it yet. “I…I plan on surviving this thing, for at least another eight months. I’ve got to kiss and hug my grandkids at least one time, you know.”
Life didn’t prepare you for moments like that—the moments where all the truths came rushing at you full force, with not a moment to prepare yourself for them. Abigail almost hated life more in that one measly second, than she hated the idea of death stealing this wonderful woman away from her and from her family.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
She smiled sadly, the tears were few and far between, but they were there, and she couldn’t stop looking at them, hating them for breaking free. “Don’t say anything, hon. And please, by all means, don’t tell David I know that you guys know. I could have killed my husband for breaking the news, but he told me why he did it. And quite frankly I’m glad he did because it brought him back to you.”
A Long Time Coming Page 19
