Riders on the Storm (Waiting for the Sun #2)
Page 4
“I’m guessing that didn’t go well,” he says softly, dropping the boxes and bag at his feet before crossing to the oven.
“No.” My voice wavers.
He opens the door and slides the pizza inside. “Are you all right?”
I shrug, which he can’t see with his back to me.
He turns around. I can tell he feels helpless, and by the way his gaze drops to the floor, maybe a little guilty. He drags a hand down his face. “I don’t know what to say or how to make things better.”
I give him a weak smile. “It is what it is. We’ll be okay. But you don’t have to worry; I’m still going.”
“I’m not worried about that, Francesca. I’m worried about you.” He takes hesitant steps toward me. “I got something for Jacob. I was hoping that maybe we could see them tomorrow. On our way out. You should tell Jane goodbye in person.”
My heart swells. “You bought Jacob a gift?”
He nods.
“I don’t think she’s talking to me.”
“What if I call her?”
I arch my brows. “I don’t know. Do you think that’s…safe?”
“Probably not, but I feel like I need to do something. I hate this for you. I hate this for us.” He reaches for me, and as I take his hand, his thumb grazes my knuckles. “I don’t want her to be mad at you, and I don’t want her to hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. Despite how she comes off, Jane’s a romantic.” I smile up at him. “And you’re my Prince Charming.”
A slow grin spreads across his face as he draws me closer. “Is that so?”
“I wouldn’t leave her if it weren’t.” I curl into his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest. “Jane wants me to have my fairytale ending.”
As long as my enchanted ass remains in Texas.
By late afternoon, we’ve filled two boxes and are starting on a third when Darian pulls my childhood jewelry box from the mountain of clutter on my kitchen table.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” I say of the little house-shaped box that means so much to me.
A smile tugs at his lips as he turns it around in his hands. “Annie had one of these,” he whispers.
I move closer to him, my breath hardening in my chest. “I don’t have to take it.”
Darian’s eyes cut to mine and he shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.” His smile widens. “I’m okay. It surprised me, is all. Where did you get it?”
“My dad gave it to me. It’s the first thing I remember him giving me, actually.”
“Then you must take it.” He carefully winds it up and lifts the lid. The tiny ballerina inside—what’s left of her anyway—springs to life and begins twirling to “Love Story,” but she only makes a few rotations before fizzling out.
Darian chuckles. “I think she’s seen better days.”
I poke my fingers in the box and pick through the dated jewelry, garish stuff I can’t believe I wore, much less kept, and pull out my father’s pocket watch. Its tarnished bronze exterior is slightly scratched, and upon opening it, I can tell it’s seen better days too.
“Your dad’s?” Darian says.
I smile tightly. “Yes.”
“My dad had one too,” he says. “It was my grandfather’s and my great grandfather’s before that.” He trades me the jewelry box for it, studies it thoughtfully, closes it and puts it back. “He had it with him…that day.” He swallows. “It would have come to me eventually and then to my firstborn son.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I shut the roof on the little house, wrap it in several sheets of paper, and set it in the box.
“Okay,” Darian says, stretching his arms across his chest. “I think it’s break time. You hungry yet?”
“Not really. You?”
“Not really.” He opens the door to the fridge and gets out a couple Shiner Bocks. “But I could definitely use a beer,” he says, popping them open and handing me one.
I take a long, slow pull, then hold the cool bottle against my neck as I scan the remaining stuff on the table. A picture of my dad at my high school graduation sits on top. I set down my beer and pick up the frame, the memory of that day prompting a smile.
“You look like him,” Darian says.
“You think? Everyone always said I looked like my mom.”
“You have the same light blue eyes. Same nose too.”
The thought warms me. “That’s nice to hear.”
He sets his beer beside mine and pulls out another sheet of packing paper. “You never talk about your mom,” he says gently, taking the frame from my hands and wrapping it. “And I haven’t seen a single picture of her.”
It isn’t phrased as a question, but I know it is one. I pick up my beer and take another sip. “She was having an affair,” I say, tracing my finger over the lip of the bottle. “The night she died, she’d been at her boyfriend’s house.”
Darian leans against the edge of the table, arms hugging the wrapped frame to his stomach.
“They’d been drinking wine,” I say. “She drove home because she didn’t want to get caught.”
“Your dad told you this? How’d he find out?”
“Her boyfriend came to the funeral. Everyone found out.”
“Shit,” Darian says, picking up another frame and wrapping it. “Did you used to be close?”
I smile wanly. “Yeah. I know she didn’t mean to hurt me, but she did. I guess it was just easier to be angry.” I reach for my childhood photo album and open it to the last page, to a picture of me and my mom on my tenth birthday. “Most of her things are in the attic, but I have this.”
Darian squeezes my hand. “Take it. Maybe one day you’ll be ready for a frame.”
Once the boxes are packed and sealed, we drag them to the front door and schedule an early morning FedEx pickup. Then Darian heads outside to check that my truck and the shed are locked, and I clean up the kitchen and finish the last of my laundry. While waiting for my clothes to dry, I sit at my laptop and forward my mail to Darian’s—I mean, my new address. A smile forms at the thought, but my nerves are quick to chase it away.
You’re really doing this.
“I put the extra set of keys in the flower box,” Darian says from the front door. “Lucy’s coming by tomorrow, right?”
I look up from the table. “That’s the plan.”
“Do you think you should make her a list of—”
“Already emailed her.”
“Hungry yet?”
“Famished.”
The buzzer on the dryer sounds and I push out of my chair.
“You pack,” Darian says, taking the pizza out of the oven. “I’ll plate.”
I dig an old suitcase out from under my bed and fill it to the brim with clothes and shoes. It’s easy to pack when you need everything; you just grab it all. The rest of my stuff—blow dryer, brushes, makeup, jewelry, toiletries—I cram in my duffel.
We eat dinner and drink a second beer. Then once the dishes are put away and the garbage carried to the curb, we go to bed.
“Are you freaking out?” Darian asks, dragging his fingers through my hair.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m nervous, but it’s kind of an excited nervous. You know what I mean?”
He smiles. “I know exactly.”
“I wish things were different with Jane.”
“She’ll come around,” he says, still stroking my hair. “She’s probably just cooling off. I bet you hear from her in the morning.”
I lean into him, brush my lips against his. “I’m so in love with you,” I whisper.
“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers back, and then he shows me how much. And this time, I don’t have to ask.
“Have you heard from Lucy?” Darian calls from the patio. He spent the morning clearing ashes from the fireplace, doing odd jobs around the yard, and strategically packing my bags in his tiny car.
“Any word from Jane?” he asks.
“Not yet.” The hollow pit in my chest grows wider as I tie up the last garbage bag and start toward the door. “Wait!” I spin around, dropping the bag at my feet. “Just got a text.”
Jane: Is it too late to meet for lunch? I’ll text you a place near Jacob’s school.
“You okay with lunch?” I ask. “In San Antonio?”
“I’m okay with anything.”
Frankie: We’ll be there.
Jane: I love you, Frankie.
Frankie: I love you too.
I click on the link Jane sends and a laugh bursts out of me. Chuck E. Cheese.
Well played, Jane. Well played.
“Ready?” Darian’s voice pulls me from the screen. “We should probably get going.”
FedEx has come and gone, everything’s locked up, and the thermostat is set at eighty degrees.
I turn in place slowly, giving my little cabin in the woods one last wistful look around. My throat tightens and burns, and when I open my mouth to speak, a small gasp escapes.
“We don’t have to do this,” Darian says, and I know he means it.
I know I could change my mind right now and everything would be okay.
But I don’t want to.
I draw in a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
He steps back, his hands cradling my face, his eyes warm and sincere as they stare into mine. “It’s okay if you’re not.”
“I want to see my family,” I say, smiling. “And then you can take me home.”
Easy Ride
Darian: I have a delivery coming to the house tomorrow. Any way you can be there to receive it? Need your help with it or I’d ask Gloria.
Drew: I’m free in the morning. What time?
Darian: Around 10? They’ll call you.
Drew: You got it. When are you headed back?
Darian: Leaving today.
Drew: Drive safe.
Frankie
“Now what?” Darian says as he pulls into the parking lot of a strip mall. “Did she tell you which restaurant?”
I heave a sigh. “Be on the lookout for a giant rat face.”
“A giant what?” He lets out a boisterous laugh which settles into a grin the second he makes the connection. “No way,” he says, his voice three octaves higher. “I haven’t been to one of these since I was a kid. And it’s a giant mouse face, by the way.”
I groan. “It’s a rat.”
“Chuck E. Cheese is a mouse,” he says matter-of-factly. “And what kind of person doesn’t like Chuck E. Cheese? It’s blasphemous.” He shakes his head. “First Star Wars, now this? Thank God your taste in music doesn’t suck.”
“It’s not—” The sight of my best friend and godson cuts my sentence short. “There they are.”
Darian parks beside them and I hesitate for a moment before opening the door. My heart twists painfully. It hurts to see them because I don’t know when I’ll see them again.
“Frankie!” Jacob screams as I get out of the car.
His arms fly around my waist, and I hug him back, kissing the top of his head before letting him go. My eyes begin to glisten and Jane notices, her stoic expression melting away as she steps toward us. She pulls me against her, Jacob sandwiched between us, and I bury my face in her honey brown hair that’s gathered at her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she whispers so that only I can hear. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
I nod.
“Who’s he?” I hear Jacob say, almost under his breath.
I straighten and discreetly run a finger beneath my eyes.
“That’s Darian,” Jane says softly. “Remember I told you yesterday that Frankie’s going to live in Florida?”
He looks at her briefly and then returns his gaze to Darian.
“That’s the friend she’s staying with.”
Jacob turns to his mother. “Is he like her boyfriend?”
I ruffle Jacob’s hair. “Yes, I guess you can say that,” I say, looking up at Darian. “He’s like my boyfriend.”
Darian smiles as he kneels to Jacob’s level. “You must be Jacob.” He extends his right hand, but Jacob shrinks back, suddenly shy and tugging on his mom’s skirt.
“What about this one?” Darian says, this time offering his left hand, a navy blue gift bag dangling from his fingers.
Jacob looks up at Jane and she nods.
Darian takes a box out of the bag and hands it to Jacob. “Do you like boats?” he asks. “It’s remote control. I got one too and I was thinking, someday soon, maybe you and your mom can come visit and we can race them.”
Jacob’s little face brightens. He finally takes Darian’s hand and they start toward the entrance. “I like boats,” he says. “I rode in a boat once. On a lake.”
“On a lake?” Darian gasps. “Come on. Let’s go play some Skee-Ball and you can tell me all about it.”
The second they’re gone, Jane grabs my arm. “Did you see that?”
“Sure did.”
“Jacob held his hand,” Jane says, her hazel eyes flaring as she opens the door. “He never does that.”
We find a table in the center of the restaurant near the arcade. Jane sinks into a chair and I sit across from her, a dreamy sigh gusting out of me as I stare past her to the boys. “It only took a smile and I wanted to hold his hand.”
Jane rolls her eyes.
It’s Wednesday, and the restaurant’s as empty as I expected it would be. Thank God. I can’t handle this place when it’s full. Screaming kids, shouting parents, obnoxious games—and don’t even get me started on that creepy as fuck rat. Two years in a row, I bribed Jacob to choose another location for his birthday parties. Any location. Yet here we are on a random weekday.
“Thanks for picking this place, by the way.”
Jane smirks. “It makes me feel better, and that’s what’s important.”
Jacob zooms past us with Darian fast on his heels. We both wave, but neither of them looks up.
“They seem to be enjoying it,” I say.
“Darian must have been a great dad.”
“You should hear the way he talks about his daughter.”
Familiar laughter sounds from the arcade, and I look toward it. My heart warms at the sight of Darian with Jacob, matching grins stretched across their faces as they bounce from one game to the next. Is this the first time Darian’s been around a child since Anabel? I wonder what he must be thinking, feeling…
Cold replaces the warmth and I shiver. “I know Darian misses her with every breath, but watching him with Jacob…it’s like…”
“He misses being a dad too.”
“Yeah. I bet he does.”
“Have you guys talked about kids?”
I laugh. “It’s way too soon for that.”
“Are you sure?” She purses her lips. “Your relationship is moving pretty fast if you haven’t noticed.”
Oh, I’ve noticed.
“I’m starving,” I say, anxious to change the subject. “You ready to order?”
Jane sighs. “Fine. We can order, but then we talk.”
Yes, Mom.
We get more pizza than the four of us can possibly eat, especially since Jane is the only one who tries. The boys are in a high-stakes Skee-Ball tournament, they tell us, and can’t be bothered with food. And despite my hungry stomach, I only pick at mine.
I take a sip of my Diet Coke, catching Jane’s stare over the rim of my cup. “What?”
She swallows the bite she’s chewing. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I can tell you want to.” I push my plate away and tuck my hands in my lap. “I know you think it’s too soon and that I’m making a huge mistake
. But no matter what, I’m going. So please don’t say anything that will make this harder than it already is. I don’t want to leave knowing you’re disappointed in me.”
Tears pool in my eyes and Jane nudges the napkin dispenser toward me.
“I’m not disappointed in you,” she says, her own eyes watering. “I’m proud of you. I wanted you to live a little, and well, you’re doing it.”
Her lips form a small, sad smile, and she leans forward, arms stretched across the table, hands splayed and waiting for mine. I take them, lacing our fingers together.
“I was upset when you told me because it caught me off guard. You’re my best friend and you’re leaving. It’s killing me.” Tears spill over her lashes as my own begin to fall. “We must be a sight,” she says, clumsily grabbing napkins from the dispenser and dividing them between us. She draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s killing me, but I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. The last thing I want is for us to become old spinsters with two dozen cats and a knitting habit. I want you to have your happily ever after,” she says, gesturing toward the arcade behind her, “and I think you’ve found him.”
I lift my head, my blurry eyes settling on Darian. He turns as if he can sense me watching him and gives me a reassuring smile.
“I think so too.”
“Then can you tell me why you look so terrified?”
A nervous laugh escapes me. I prop my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my folded hands. “What if I’m not enough? What if he changes his mind?”
“Why would you think that?”
“He worshiped his wife, Jane. I’m just shiny and new and when that wears off…” I swallow hard. “I’m worried I won’t measure up and he won’t want me anymore. I like guarantees. I’m not good with risk.”
Jane’s expression softens. “Loving him won’t be easy, Frankie. How can it be? A man with that much baggage? But you’ll get through it. You’ll get through to him, and when you do, I think you’ll find something beautiful. Something worth taking a risk for.”