by Nicole Helm
“I didn’t mean that you should be sorry. I just meant that you didn’t have to go. If you wanted to go, that’s fine. I just needed to...process the question.”
She looked down at his comforter, wanting to change the subject. Luckily, he did first. “Did you really have a phone call to make?” Marc crossed the room and slid next to her on the bed.
“I was getting a little antsy, so I called Stumpf.” Tess picked at a thread on the comforter. “He said he got waylaid on a call, so it’d be another hour or so.”
“I can call someone else.”
“So could I.” She winced at the snap in her tone, but he’d probably think it was her face hurting. And get that blank look. She couldn’t decide if it meant he was angry about everything that had happened or angry about her not going to the hospital or some other emotion she didn’t know.
Because he didn’t tell her. Because he kept it all to himself. Because he didn’t want to introduce her to his sister. He wanted to keep his family and her separate.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. She was a damn open book.
She wanted to laugh, but there was no levity in her. Nothing felt okay when he was like this.
She knew nothing about his life, his family. Oh, she knew him, that he was a good decent guy. That he liked hockey and reading and quiet. She knew who he was, loved who he was, but she didn’t know about him. And it felt gross. Sure, she’d walked out of the room because she’d gotten self-conscious about her face, but he hadn’t wanted to introduce her to his sister. “Will you tell me why she stopped by?”
He was quiet for ticking seconds and she had this sinking sensation he was going to brush it off, pretend it was unimportant, be impossibly blank and break her heart.
“She invited us to a party.”
“Us?”
“Something her work friends are putting together. She was trying to get me to make friends, and then she put two and two together with you being here and invited you, too.”
“Oh.” Some of the fear in her dissipated, not that she had any clue what strange weightless feeling took its place.
“Oh. Is that a good oh or a bad oh?”
“I’m not sure. It’s just an oh.”
“Oh.”
That was why she was sunk. Even when she had little moments of irritation with him, he dissolved it all. With a laugh, with something sweet, showing who he was, even if he didn’t emote every feeling.
He did make her happy—why did she have to feel at times as if she needed more? “Do you want to go?”
“Part of me thinks the idea of going to a party like that sounds like torture.”
“And the other part?”
“Thinks it might be...good. It might be good to take you out and not pretend.” He rubbed a hand up and down her arm. “A date would be nice.”
“I guess we can do that now, huh?”
“If you want to.”
“And what do you want?” She tried to catch his gaze, but it was trained on his hand rubbing up and down her arm.
“Whatever would make you happy.”
How could something so sweet make her kind of want to smack him? Because it was great, amazing even, that someone would want to do whatever would make her happy. She’d been on her own, basically, so long, that had never been something she’d been given.
And yet being in love with Marc, caring about him, wanting to build something with him meant—
Whoa. Just because they were out in the open at work didn’t mean they could exactly do any building. There were still rules once relationships got to...a certain point.
A complication she wouldn’t have to deal with if she’d been able to keep her hands and her heart to herself.
His hand stilled on her arm. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”
“Yeah.” She slid farther down on the bed, closer to him. Complicated as it was, having someone to fuss over her was still way better than dealing with this alone. “Just antsy and cranky. So, when’s this party?”
“Tomorrow.”
She winced at that. “I would like to do something fun and out of this damn apartment building with you. I’d really like that, in fact, but—” she gestured at her face “—not sure I’m up for all the staring.”
“Leah did say...” He squeezed her arm and released it. “She made it very clear no one would say anything. Made it seem like someone she knows went through similar.”
Tess didn’t know if that was reassuring or not.
“My parents will be there. I can’t make the same promises for my mother. She’d never be rude, though. Overzealous, but not rude to your face. No doubt she’ll make me uncomfortable, if that holds any appeal.”
She smiled at that. “Tell me the truth here. Do you want me to go? Do you want me to meet your family? Formally. And don’t give me the if I want crap. I want to know what you want. Because five seconds ago you had to think really hard about just introducing me to your sister.”
He was quiet for a while, blank thinking face and all. “Smile. Frown. Emote.” She poked him in the chest and got a frown.
“It’s not my first instinct, Tess. I can’t magically change because you want me to.”
“Try. A little.” When she put a finger to his chest this time, she traced the logo on his T-shirt. “For me.”
“I would very much like you to go. I’m conflicted about you meeting my family. Not because of you, because of them.”
He could be so earnest when he let himself be. That was the man she wanted to see more of. “Why?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. Tensing, but he wasn’t blank. That was a start.
“My relationship with them is weird. Not bad, but weird.”
“Okay, considering you’ve seen the aftermath of my parental relationship, I would think you wouldn’t need to be embarrassed.”
“It’s not about being embarrassed, it’s just...stupid. My family issues are small and inconsequential to yours.”
“I don’t want you to compare.”
“You don’t want me to compare. You don’t want me to be blank. What do you want from me, Tess?” He sat up and away from her, breaking any physical contact.
“I want to know you. I keep seeing glimpses, but then you clam up and I don’t know if I’m seeing who you think I want you to be or actually you.”
“How can that not be me? If it’s what I’m doing. How is it not me?”
She...didn’t know. It was only a feeling, this sense of vague dissatisfaction when he got all whatever you want. Wasn’t that supposed to be what she wanted? Someone to treat her like a princess?
Gross.
“I want you to be happy. That makes me happy. How is that wrong?”
She didn’t know, couldn’t put it into words. Maybe it wasn’t even important. She wanted to forget she’d ever said anything, wanted to forget anything complicated. “Let’s put it aside for now. I’m too tired to argue with you. You know what I’m not too tired to do?” She slid onto his lap. Sex was easy, good. She wanted easy and good more than anything else.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?”
As much as she liked his concern and support, she hated him treating her as if she might break. She hadn’t broken in thirty-some years, she wasn’t breaking today.
“I got clocked in the face, not stabbed or shot.”
He ran his thumb over the mark on her arm from where the bottle had cut her a few weeks ago. The scab had mostly healed, but there was still a visible scar.
Marc pressed his mouth to it. “You don’t know how much I wish I could fix this for you.”
“Ah, Captain Quiet returns,” she joked, because otherwise she might cry.
“Not funny.”
“Not wrong. You want t
o fix everyone else. Some displaced sense that you can and should. You know what you should worry about doing, Marc?” She cupped his face, hoping the affectionate gesture would ease the sting of her words. “Focus on you a bit.”
“Why? I haven’t got anything wrong with me. I told you, my life is very uneventful. No great tragedies.”
“What happened with your sister when you were kids had to have been difficult. Maybe not a tragedy, but I am here and alive and no tragedy has befallen me, Marc. My father was sick, and maybe it hurt me a little more than your sister’s sickness hurt you, but we can’t keep some kind of checklist about who had it harder or who gets the sympathy.”
His jaw clenched, and he all but scowled at the spot on her arm his thumb was still moving against.
“It’s not easy for me to...” He cleared his throat. “I’m not used to too many people caring what I think or feel.”
“Get used to it.”
His mouth relaxed, but when those hypnotizing amber eyes met hers, his expression was still very serious. “For how long?”
She didn’t know what to do with that question any more than she knew what to do with the reality of the situation.
So she kissed him and hoped the rest would come in time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MARC WAS SICK to his stomach. Pulling up to MC on a pretty spring evening was nice enough. The big house, as they called it, was in fact big. Everything was shiny and well kept since they ran the restoration business from here and used it as an example of what MC was capable of.
The view was fine. But the cars in the lot, the people milling around the green, freshly mowed side yard. Those were the things that filled him with dread. People were definitely not his forte.
Tess looked beautiful, though. Sure, she was wearing more makeup than usual and it didn’t completely cover the damage to her face, but her excited smile was genuine as she looked through the windshield at the house before them.
He’d missed that about her before in their quiet, hidden moments. Tess liked people, liked being around them. She was good with people and small talk and doing things.
Well, that made one of them at least.
“It won’t kill you. Won’t even maim you.”
He pulled the keys out of the ignition. “Yes, I believe I’m well aware of that.”
She reached over the console between them and pressed her thumb against his forehead, making a scowling face he supposed was mimicking his own. “Your forehead says otherwise.”
“I’m not good at this stuff,” he grumbled. “You recall my small-talk skills when we met.”
“Oh, I thought that’s just because you were irritated about having the hots for me.”
“Yeah, well, that, too.”
She laughed, bright and loud, and he was gratified she could, and would. She’d been beat down yesterday, with every right, broody and unhappy. Even the light had been undercut by a constant watchfulness, slight irritation with the nicest of gestures.
He didn’t get a sense of that today at all. So if a little party with his sister’s work friends changed that, he’d go to a million of them.
If that made him a rather sad piece of shit, so be it. It was indelibly worth it. She was worth every word, every emotion, every frustration he had to swallow down. He climbed out of the truck at the same time Tess did.
“This place really is gorgeous. It’s a small town, but I haven’t spent much time in this part of it.”
“You grew up...” He trailed off. He shouldn’t be bringing up her father when she was looking happy and eager.
Because though her eyes were on the group of people they were walking toward while her hand slid into his, some of that joy was gone. “Grew up in a house down by the old Jolly factory. Dad used to work there. When they left Bluff City, Dad lost his job and never found a new one. Lost the house. I was just starting at BCPD at the time. Got him the place he’s in...was in...well, you know. Anyway.” She turned to him and grabbed his other hand, stopping their progress across the yard.
“Tell me something about where you grew up.”
Even though it was mostly a deflection of topic, he saw underneath. This was more of the I want to know you stuff he needed to get better at. The whole emoting thing and not shutting down, as was his initial instinct. Always.
“Um, well...” The problem was, he had no idea what to say. No idea what she wanted him to say.
“Anything. What color was your house? What kind of neighborhood did you grow up in? What posters did you have on your walls?” She squeezed his hands.
“Yellow. Middle-class suburban. Kirby Puckett.”
“Who’s Kirby Puckett? Like, a swimsuit model?”
“Baseball player.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why did you have Kirby Puckett the baseball player on your wall?”
“It was Minnesota in the early ’90s. No boy my age didn’t have Kirby Puckett on their wall. Half the girls, too, including my sister. Who is coming this way.”
Marc hadn’t spotted his parents’ van, but the prospect of Mom, Dad, Leah, Jacob and him and Tess all being together was enough to suck any levity right out of him. Tess would see it—the pathetic part of him he’d only hinted at to her.
That he was still desperate for his parents’ love and attention, even knowing he’d never get it. That he was bitter about their fawning over Leah and Jacob all the time.
But he didn’t have to dwell on that anxiety as Leah approached.
“You actually came.”
Marc forced a smile at Leah. “I said I would.”
“I know. And you always do what you say, but still.” She turned to Tess. “Hi, I’m Leah. I know we haven’t been formally introduced yet.”
Tess smiled brightly. “Tess. It’s very nice to meet you. Thanks so much for extending the invitation to me. It’s a beautiful evening for an outdoor potluck.”
Jacob approached and cleared his throat when Leah didn’t say anything. Finally, she rolled her eyes. “Right. Tess, this is Jacob.”
“Her live-in boyfriend.” Jacob smiled as he shook Tess’s hand. “Things normal people share in introductions don’t always make their way out of Leah’s mouth.”
“Normal people do not share live-in, you weirdo.”
“Ah, love. Isn’t it grand?”
Leah made a gagging motion, but she was grinning from ear to ear. Marc didn’t understand their relationship at all, but he was glad they had worked things out. Despite their verbal sparring almost all the time, they both were happy together.
More and more he was understanding how much that added to a life. To have someone just to share it with. Even if he wasn’t quite first, even if he didn’t have a say, having Tess to love was worth it.
* * *
TESS HAD LOST track of how many people she’d met, or how many questions Marc’s mom had asked her about the most random collection of things, from inquiries into her religious choices to subtle comments regarding her health. Not in a way that made it seem as if she was asking about the bruise on her cheek. No, this was stuff like the history of cancer in her family.
Luckily, Marc and Leah had saved her from a question she had no idea what to do with on more than one occasion.
Despite the interrogation, Tess was fascinated. Fascinated by a mother who, well, cared. Maybe Marc thought he wasn’t as important to his parents as Leah was—and she could even somewhat see it based on how they all interacted—but his mother cared. She was here. Interrogating his girlfriend.
Funny to even think of herself as Marc’s girlfriend when everything had started so secretly. But it wasn’t a secret any longer and she could be his girlfriend. The fallout at work was going to suck, but she didn’t have to worry about that until at least Monday.
Marc
was deep in conversation with his father and a bearded guy—Henry, maybe? Mrs. Santino was thankfully distracted by the adorable little baby crawling around. So Tess could finally sneak to the dessert table that had been set up and get a brownie that looked a lot more homemade than her usual box stuff.
“Make sure to get as many of those brownies as possible. Once Jacob and Kyle get over here, all bets are off.”
Tess smiled at the brunette. Grace, she hoped she was remembering correctly. Because she was Jacob’s sister and engaged to someone. Kyle, maybe. That would make sense.
“Will do.”
“You people and your chocolate,” Leah muttered, approaching from the other side. She picked up a snickerdoodle.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Leah dear. We can’t all give up chocolate just because you’re allergic.”
Leah muttered a curse under her breath then turned to Tess with a weird smile. It actually reminded Tess of Marc. Kind of forced, but enough acting skill to make it look real.
“I hope you’re having a good time.”
“So you’re as bad at small talk as Marc?” Tess asked sweetly.
Leah’s smile went to an authentic grin. “Oh, good, I like you. I don’t have to pretend.”
“Leah’s way of showing love is ridiculing incessantly,” Grace piped up, a bite of brownie disappearing into her mouth.
“I have years to make up for when it comes to ridiculing my brother. Help will be necessary.”
“Years?”
Leah raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t told you...”
“I mean, he’s insinuated some things. I guess I didn’t realize...”
Leah shrugged. “There was about a decade there without much contact. I lived here, they lived in Minnesota and I wanted to keep it that way.” She glanced toward Marc and her father, then her mother. “I think we’re still working our way toward being a real loving-type family, but we’re trying. Even Marc. Most of the time.”
Tess opened her mouth to press more, to ask a million questions, but really they were questions for Marc. Questions she shouldn’t have to ask.
She was getting pretty sick of it.
