“How is this fair? You two are toasting with the best beers in the house while I sit here and gestate.”
Caleb felt bad, but Slate just smiled winningly. “You don’t drink anyway.”
“Yeah, but I can’t drink. And you can. That’s some bullshit right there.”
Slate giggled. He was tipsy, maybe a little past. “I’m going to break the seal.”
Finally, Caleb thought, watching his friend push himself up out of the booth. His thoughts were still clear, and he’d been wanting to get Taryn alone all night. From the way she glanced at him, they were on the same page. They smiled for Slate until he was out of earshot.
“I, I just want to say I’m sorry,” Taryn said in a rush, beating him to the punch.
“What on earth would you be sorry for?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Maybe you should tell me.”
Caleb leaned forward across the table. “You didn’t do anything, Taryn.” He traced his fingertip around the glass of beer, wiping away condensation. “When we were on the beach . . .” His heart began to pound out an erratic rhythm, and he couldn’t find words. He’d been practicing in his head all night, but they wouldn’t come out right.
“You know there’s that scale, right? The Kinsey scale?”
“It’s a pretty out-of-date scale, but I know what you’re talking about.” He scrambled, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. “It measures degrees of sexuality from complete heterosexuality to complete homosexuality and everything in between.”
“Right. Well, my friend Robin is on the furthest end of that scale. He loves him some dick.”
Caleb choked on a laugh. “Okay. But what does that have to do with us?”
“Well, I’m just saying. There’s no way in hell Robin would ever be sexually attracted to me. I could shove my tits right in his face, and he would just yawn. But one day, when we were playing, um, wrestling”—she gave him a sheepish smile—“and you know how that goes. There was a lot of sliding, stimulation.”
Caleb shifted in his seat. She was painting a vivid picture that wasn’t making things any easier on him. She continued, unaware of his situation. “And he had a perfectly normal reaction. Body to body, it’s just natural to feel something.” Her eyes flicked up to his. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Taryn was giving him an out. She was asking him to tell her he wasn’t attracted to her, that whatever this was between them wasn’t viable except for that one moment in time when they were pressed together. She was making it easy. He should just tell her she was right. That was it. That was all it was.
But it was a lie. He knew it was a lie. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but see how beautiful she was. He was dizzy with want. He noted how close his hand was to hers. It would be easy to reach out and let their fingers entwine. It would be so easy to lean across the table and—
Bad idea.
He cleared his throat. “I’m—” He dropped his gaze to the table. “Yeah. I’m sorry I overreacted. It . . . I guess it caught me off guard, that’s all.”
He looked up enough to see Taryn’s slow nod. She was looking down, too, and he wondered if he was imagining the hurt etched on her features. “Yeah.” She sat up straighter. “It’s cool. You don’t have to feel bad about it. We’re adults, right?”
“That’s what they keep trying to tell me.” The lie felt about as comfortable as a brick in his gut, but he didn’t see an alternative. It had to be done.
Right?
“So we can be friends again?”
At that he raised his head. “We were never not friends, Taryn. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
Her smile was tight but sincere. “Good. That’s good. That’s the most important part. I . . . you’re important to me.”
At that, he did reach across the table, taking her hands in his. “I feel the same way.”
That much was easy to admit. She was a part of his life now, a good friend, and he would never want to jeopardize the relationship they had, not for Slate’s sake but his own. She was right. They were adults, and he would work through his attraction to save their friendship. She was worth it.
Their hands lingered perhaps a beat too long, but just as the air began to change again, Slate reappeared. They both pulled back, dropping their hands under the table. Slate sighed as he dropped into his seat beside Taryn. “Okay, so when does it get less crazy that I’m going to be a daddy? Caleb. Man, you can’t let me fuck this up.”
He was kidding, but he wasn’t. Caleb pushed the fresh glass of beer the waitress had brought by at him. “You’ll be fine. I trust Taryn to keep you in line.” He looked up at her and smiled. “She’s a smart cookie.”
“And you’ll have our back, too, right?”
“Of course. Of course I’ll have your back.”
Chapter Seventeen
Taryn pressed one of the pillows from the couch to her face and screamed into it. “What is wrong with me?”
“Not a thing, baby doll.” Rob patted her leg. “It’s just a crush. Crushes hurt. Crushes suck big hairy donkey dick. It’s never pleasant.”
Taryn growled and brought the pillow down to her lap, squeezing it to keep from throttling her friend. “Shut up.”
He straight out guffawed. He’d been trying to get her to admit she was attracted to Caleb for weeks. He didn’t understand why else Taryn was going with him to visit his sister. “Oh, honey. You’re so cute. You’re just not used to this is all. It’s not so bad. Look at you. Your first crush.”
Taryn groaned. “This is not my first crush. I remember this. I’m supposed to be a grown-up now. This is as bad as when I crushed on Rami Najjar in high school.”
“Is it?” Rob asked. The words were quiet, curious. “Is it like high school?”
Taryn stared up at the ceiling. She thought of Caleb’s smile and her heart fluttered. She thought of his smooth moves as he danced to the boy band song. He was handsome and funny. She thought of the tender way he held his sister’s hand, how he’d given up his life so she could have someone with her. She thought of the day they met and how fierce he’d been defending Slate.
“No,” she said. “This isn’t like high school.”
Rob wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him. With a sigh, Taryn rested her head on his shoulder. She was close to tears and that irritated her. There was no reason she should be so emotional. It was the baby. It had to be the baby. Her hormones and emotions were unrecognizable lately. That was normal, wasn’t it? That was all this was. She told Rob so.
He kissed her forehead and rubbed her arm. “Do you remember what you told me when we talked about your whole ridiculous issue with dating?”
Taryn frowned. “You said I was too young to be jaded, and I said there was a huge difference between being jaded and not being in love with the idea of love.”
“What else did you say?”
She’d had a feeling that was what he was getting at. “I said that I wouldn’t deny something that was right in front of my face.”
“This is practically crawling up your nose, sweetheart.”
“Thank you for that visual.”
“Taryn, really. He’s a nice guy, has a successful business, loves his family. Why aren’t you pursuing this?”
She raised her head to give her friend an incredulous stare. “Really?” She grabbed his hand and pressed it against the obvious swell of her belly. “It couldn’t possibly be because I’m pregnant with another man’s baby, right? Not just any guy but his best friend. Tell me that doesn’t have disaster written all over it.”
“Babycakes, everything good has disaster written all over it. If it were boring, we wouldn’t be attracted to it, and it wouldn’t be worth doing.”
“You know what else has disaster written all over it? Actual disaster. Do you know how quickly I can destroy my own life?” She gestured at her stomach. “I mean, obviously I’m good at making those kinds of decisions, but I’m
not—”
“Taryn.” Rob shook his head. “Calm down. Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I’m not telling you to drug the guy and drag him off to Vegas under the influence. I’m saying would it be so bad to see how he reacts to a gentle flirt?”
“I don’t think I am overreacting. If he wanted me, he’d have kissed me when he had the chance. I can’t make things awkward between us.”
“What if he’s worried about the same thing? You won’t know until you ask.”
Taryn’s breath caught. She’d only just accepted the fact she had a crush—maybe more than a crush—on Caleb. Her protesting mind had not yet had time to contemplate the idea that maybe, just maybe, Caleb might have been harboring a crush of his own. Her head swam and her heart leapt at the thought, hope burgeoning before she could squash it flat. For the space of a breath, fairy-tale images of happily ever after floated before her.
She shook her head to clear it. “And what if he does feel the same?” Her voice was strained and tired as she spoke. “What then, Rob? What are we supposed to tell Slate?”
“You and Slate have already had that conversation. If you’re not interested in each other, you’re both on the market again. One day you will have to have that conversation with him anyway.”
“Caleb is Slate’s best friend. His brother.”
“The only thing that matters is he’s not your brother.” When Taryn glared, he continued. “What if the situation were reversed? What if I wanted to date Slate? Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. That boy is too cute and sweet.”
That coaxed a smile out of Taryn. “I’d be fine with it.”
“Well then.”
“But what if Slate wouldn’t be? What if Caleb feels the same? What if we could figure it all out, but Slate isn’t okay with it?”
“Then honestly, baby, fuck him. Really. He doesn’t get a say in who you date. Knocking you up doesn’t give him special privileges over your life.”
“Doesn’t it?” Taryn looked away, her hand protective over her bump, her daughter. “If it pissed Slate off, made things strained between us, don’t I have a responsibility not to do it?”
“Not for nothing, but you know what my answer to that is going to be.” He crossed his arms, his expression stern. “I was raised by a mother who didn’t leave my father ‘for the kids.’ That’s the biggest load of bullshit ever spouted by anyone. Honey, you know life isn’t a picnic. It wasn’t for you, and it’s not going to be for her, even if you do try to shelter her. The best thing you can do for your baby is teach her by example to go for what makes her happy in life, despite what anyone else says, as long as it’s reasonable. It’s reasonable for you to lust after your baby daddy’s bff.” He grinned. “He is so very pretty.”
Taryn closed her eyes and leaned against Rob’s chest again. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“I’m sorry. If we could tell the future, it would make life a whole lot less interesting.”
“Sometimes I think I could do with less interesting.” Taryn rubbed her hand over her daughter. “But then again—”
Her cell phone ringing interrupted. She straightened up and pulled it out of her pocket. “Speak of the devil.” She connected the call. “Hey, Caleb.”
He didn’t speak right away. In fact, for a few seconds, all she heard was his labored breath. “Caleb? Are you okay? Caleb?”
He swallowed hard.
“What’s wrong?” Taryn asked. Her stomach twisted.
“It’s my sister.”
Taryn’s heart plummeted to her toes. “What happened?”
“She stopped breathing.”
For two heartbeats, Taryn did, too. “Are you at the hospital now?”
“I’m getting in my car right now. I just . . . I don’t know why I called you.”
“Stay put a second. I’ll get you. We’ll go together.”
“Taryn . . .”
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
He paused. “I . . . thank you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
On the way back from the convalescent home, Caleb couldn’t think.
It was not so much that he couldn’t, but he simply wasn’t. He wasn’t thinking, and he wasn’t feeling anything at all. Thoughts buzzed in his head and emotions tugged at his heart, but they were pushed away, muted for the moment. He sat in the passenger’s seat of Taryn’s car, watching the buildings go by, watching people mill as though it were any other day.
Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, images played, memories. He remembered when Ann had been first diagnosed. Though he had always been a man who believed you determined your own destiny, when they got the news, he knew her fate was written. She would die of that disease. There was no maybe. It was a certainty, a piece of her future already preordained at birth. He knew then it would be horrible to watch. She would deteriorate and waste away, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. The only uncertainty was the exact date.
He filled it in now in his mental calendar along with every other important date. Ann’s birthday, his father’s, Slate’s, his parents’ anniversary—he still remembered—his mother’s date of death, and now Ann’s. The numbers went around and around his head—markers he would remember every year for the rest of his life.
They arrived at his house, the house where they’d all been a family, and Caleb remembered wrestling on the grass with his sister. Ann was every bit as tough as a big brother would have been. When she beat him and he pouted, she teased him. “Don’t be mad, Caley. There’s no shame being beaten by a girl. I’m just better than you.”
“Can we, um . . . do you think we could go to your place? Just for a while?” He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I shouldn’t be inviting myself over.”
“No, it’s fine. Anything you need.” Taryn put the car in reverse and backed out of his driveway. The weight on Caleb’s shoulders lightened in an instant. It wasn’t gone by a longshot, but he couldn’t deny he was relieved.
“Thank you,” he said. He wanted to speak again, to tell her how grateful he was for all she’d done today. She’d never left his side. More than that, she seemed to have an instinct for what he needed. Like now. Taryn didn’t question his motives, and she didn’t ask any questions at all. Not a lot of people could have let the silence stretch between them, especially given the circumstances.
She was still quiet when they pulled up to her house. She waited for him by the head of the car so they could walk in her door together. They were close enough that their fingers brushed, but she didn’t reach for his hand. Again, he was grateful. More than one knot in the snarled mess of emotions he’d pushed away to be dealt with at some undetermined time belonged to her.
There was a buzz beneath his skin that made him want to power through the next few days, the inevitable sequence of events that had to happen whenever a person died. Ann’s funeral had to be planned. He would have to deal with his father and other relatives and friends who’d pushed Ann to the back of their minds, waiting for this moment. They’d all written her off so long ago, nothing left to do until they could pay their last respects. Then he would put his sister in the ground, and this whole ordeal, from diagnosis to death, would be done.
But there was nothing he could do right then except wait for time to pass. He had an appointment with the funeral director the next day, but his official duties were done for the night. He stood in Taryn’s entryway and stared forward, unseeing. His hands twitched at his sides, but he couldn’t figure out what to do with them.
“Have you eaten anything at all today?” Taryn asked. “I could make you something. Or we can order pizza.”
His stomach was as empty as his head. “No, I . . . thank you.”
“Do you want to sit down?”
Her voice was so gentle and unassuming. Caleb considered her question, but he couldn’t find the will in him to want to move. If he couldn’t fast-forward through to after the funeral
, after the last relative left, he wanted to stay absolutely still. If he didn’t move, didn’t try to breathe, maybe he could remain in this anoetic state. He shook his head to answer Taryn’s question.
“Caleb—”
“That’s not normal, by the way. The way she died I mean. It’s not normal.”
Taryn was quiet. She took a step toward him, but she didn’t say a word.
“The nurse was getting her dressed for the day. He turned away to get her socks, and when he turned back, she exhaled and went still.”
“Caleb.”
“I always wondered how she would go. More often than not, it’s not the disease that kills them. I’ve heard so many stories. Some die like my mom, in accidents because of the jerking. People bash their heads open falling out of beds or choke to death. Annie, I think she just decided she was done.”
“Caleb.”
“I don’t blame her. Who could blame her? It wasn’t a life, what she had.” Caleb shut his mouth because that line of thinking was dangerous. If he thought about Ann’s life as it had been the last couple of years, he would have to acknowledge part of the reason he was so pissed off at his father was because he knew John had a point. The woman in the bed hadn’t really been Ann. The truth was, Ann had slipped away in between fits of rage and a progressive deterioration of function.
Caleb rubbed his eyes. They felt sore for some reason. “I don’t—”
“Caleb.” Taryn wrapped her hand around his wrist and tugged to get his attention.
His eyes found hers. He thought of how different it had been the last couple of weeks. Every other day or so, when he went to visit Ann, Taryn was with him more often than not.
Ann would have liked her. She would have teased Caleb about his crush. That was what big sisters did with their little brothers.
Caleb didn’t want to think about alternate universes where his big sister was alive and well.
One to Tell the Grandkids Page 13
