This is not matching up to any of the times I’ve envisioned sharing a shower with Fiona.
"Hey! Put the water back over here."
"No."
"I need to rinse off."
"There's some water pooling on the bottom of the tub. Try a bath."
"Cade, stop being such a jerk. I need the water."
"So do I."
"I have something else you need."
My stomach clenches and my cock jumps, even though I'm fairly certain those words don't mean what I’d like them to.
"What is that?"
The curtain flutters and her hand shoots over to my side gripping a bottle of body wash.
"Unscented," she says, then pulls the bottle back to the other side of the curtain.
I have done a lot of negotiating in my day, and I can say this is the strangest deal I've ever tried to make. Weighing my options, which include climbing out of the shower and going for my toiletry bag, and coming back to a locked bathroom door, or staying in here knowing I'm just inches away from Fiona's naked body and sharing the water with her, I finally reach up and tilt the shower head toward the middle. Her hand comes back to my side with the bottle, and I accept it. We fall into an awkward and decidedly weird silence as we both seem to contemplate what happened in our lives to lead us to this particular point. Filling my hand with the thick body wash, I lather my skin, then lean toward the gap between my side of the shower and hers.
"I'm going to rinse," I say.
"Alright," she says.
I reach up and tilt the shower head back toward me so the full force of the water rushes across my skin and rinses away the bubbles. I duck my head into it to make sure I've gotten out all the shampoo.
"OK. I'm getting out," I say.
"OK."
The shower standoff over, I wrap a towel around my waist and turn into my bedroom. As I dress, I can't believe I was just naked in the shower with Fiona and never tried to touch her. Not once. The brief glimpse I caught of her luscious body when I stepped in the room is enough to fill my mind with a very long list of what I would have liked to do with her in that shower, but I know that’s not an option. That's not why I'm here. The time when I had a chance with Fiona is long over, and the resentment we both feel has created a wedge between us that's even more obvious now that we’re back in the same place.
Despite all logic and reason, however, it feels like a small part of me has come to life again now that we’re reunited. Even if she can’t stand me.
Chapter Five
Fiona
"I wasn't completely naked. Well, I was. But only for like a second, second and a half tops. I don't think he saw anything."
I rub my hair with my towel, wincing even as I say the words. They don't sound at all convincing.
"Really?"
Nope. She doesn’t buy it, either. Shit.
"Alright. He saw it. The full enchilada. The chips and guacamole, too."
Esme is silent on the other end of the line for several seconds.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, but he saw everything, Esme."
I groan and drop down to sit on the edge of the bed. The towel, wrapped tightly around me, hasn't budged since I got out of the shower. I just know the second I take it off, Cade will somehow get through the lock I checked twice on my bedroom door.
"Well, did you at least get to see anything in return?"
Of course, that would be her first thought.
"Not really. I closed my eyes when he was getting undressed, and I covered him up with the curtain when I was climbing into the shower."
"When you were what?"
I cringe. I forgot I had neglected to mention that part to her.
"It's a long story. I'll tell you sometime over coffee...and liquor."
"You've only been there for a couple hours. It can't be that bad."
"Oh, but it is. And you know what? I saw him without his shirt. That just makes it worse."
"Does he look bad?"
"He looked so good I wanted to throw my loofah out the window and use him to exfoliate myself. That makes it so, so much worse."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not supposed to feel that way about him. This is Cade. Cade Sawyer. The Cade."
"You forget you've always refused to give me the full details of the whole Cade saga, so all the different types of emphasis are lost on me."
"It just the one thing I refuse to talk about."
"Even to me? Your best friend?"
"Even to you, my best friend."
Esme lets out a frustrated huff.
"It's not fair. I share everything about my life with you. Everything. Even all the little crinkly, grimy pieces."
"Yes, I know," I say, finally deciding I can't spend the rest of my life in a towel, so I might as well get dressed. "But the difference is my little crinkly, grimy piece actually happened, and caused me a lot of pain. Most of your crinkly, grimy parts come from your adventures in online dating, dreams related to late-night women's network movies, or just straight-up delusions."
"I thought we agreed we weren't going to call them that."
I drop the phone onto my bed and lean over so I can continue the conversation while I pull a mint green tank top over my head and shimmy into a pair of black yoga pants.
"You're right," I admit. "I'm sorry.”
"Thank you."
"May I continue?"
"Go ahead."
I brush my hair out of my face, trying to get the conversation back on track, then realize I don't really have anything left to say.
"Oh. I guess that was it."
"So, you're really not going to tell me?"
I hesitate, then realize I've let this go on long enough.
"Fine. What do you want to know?" I speak quickly before she can start. "But, just let me say I don't think it's completely fair for you to pressure this story out of me without receiving the benefit of a sufficient amount of chocolate, and a sloppy pedicure, and whatever the fuck girls do at sleepovers when they talk about stuff like this. I wouldn't know, because I’ve never had one."
"You’ve never had a sleepover?"
Esme sounds deeply sad at the thought that I had missed out on that sacred tradition of youth.
"No," I tell her. "I told you a long time ago, I wasn’t exactly the most sociable person when I was younger. I didn't spend a ton of time hanging out with my peers. I mean I wasn't like the weird kid who would eat my lunch off the floor like the Hunchback of Hoot Owl High or anything."
"Hunchback? Hoot Owl?"
"It's the town where I grew up. I told you, I lived most of the time in the suburbs, but just barely. The house we lived in most of the time was less than an hour from the country."
"Well, that does seem like a lot of country."
"Thank you."
"Wait, why did your grandparents get a house in the suburbs if they loved the country so much?"
"I'm not sure," I say, trying to braid my hair and quickly learning I lack the dexterity to braid one-handed. "They said it was for me and that they wanted to raise me somewhere good for children. But I don't think that's totally it. I mean, how many people move away from fresh air and open spaces to better raise a child? I think it was because of my father. They raised him out here. Maybe they didn't want to feel like they were replacing his childhood with mine. Whatever the reason, they didn't bring me out here until I was about two or so. Gramps would come out alone on the weekends sometimes, but it wasn't until I was a toddler that they started bringing me with them. Then the visits got increasingly frequent until it reached the point that if I wasn't in school, we were here."
"So, where did you meet Cade? At school?"
"Oh, right. We're talking about him, aren't we?"
"Yeah, we are."
I sigh.
"I didn't meet Cade at school. He didn't go to my school, and he's two years older than me. I met him out here. When I was eleven, Grammie and I didn't come out her
e as soon as school ended like we usually did. Gramps headed out before us, which wasn't that uncommon. This is where he grew up, and his parents before him, and probably generations before that, but I'm not sure. He'd come out here and tinker around with his tools and build things. After a couple of weeks, Grammie told me it was time for us to go out too, and we left just like any summer. I wasn't really looking forward to it. Being out here was never my favorite thing. It's pretty and peaceful, don't get me wrong. It's just feels incredibly isolating, and a little creepy, to be honest. So, when we showed up at the house, I was ready to spend my summer reading the stack of books I brought with me and wandering the grounds of the house like I usually did. Gramps had started teaching me a little bit of woodworking and things, but I wasn't exactly the most dedicated or skilled of students. But when we got inside, Cade was already here. He was sitting in the living room eating one of the chocolate chip cookies Grammie gave to Gramps because she couldn't bear the thought of him going more than a few days without eating something she had baked for him."
"That's adorable."
"Yeah. That was how they were. They were each other's world."
"What did they say about Cade?"
"Nothing, really. They introduced us to each other and told me he was the grandson of one of Gramps' friends. He said Cade might be hanging around some that summer, and they knew we'd be good friends."
"And he was right."
"Well, not exactly. Not at first, anyway. To be honest, I don't think we really knew what to think of each other. We were still so young, and I was so painfully awkward. We clashed a lot that first summer, but when it was over and we moved back to the city house, I realized I missed him. He was all I could think about, even though I didn't understand it. I was too embarrassed to talk to Grammie about it, though, so I just figured I would never see him again. When the next summer came, though, there he was. He spent even more time there that year."
"And I bet you started learning a lot more about woodworking," Esme teases.
"I did," I agree. "We started getting really close that summer. I found out his family wasn't exactly the best. He didn't go into a lot of detail, but I figured out the main reason he was here with us so much was so he could be away from them."
"This is not the bubbly-turned-tragic, led by Doris Day and Rock Hudson, effervescent love story I was hoping for."
"Well, Rock Hudson was gay, so your logic is innately flawed. But, I'm getting to the bubbly part. Just hold on."
"Rock Hudson was gay?"
"He was."
"Rock Hudson?"
"Yes."
"The tall one? Dark hair?"
"How many people named 'Rock' are you familiar with?"
"Just him, I guess. I'm just…. Wow. Good job, Toni."
"Who?"
"Toni. Toni Morrison. The little guy who was always in those movies with them."
"That would be Tony Randall, and I really don't think they were lovers."
"Well, that was a missed opportunity."
"Do you want the bubbly part of my story?"
"Yes."
I open my mouth, then close it again, unsure of where to start.
"Damn it, now I lost track of where I was in the story."
"You were exactly nowhere in the story. You were twelve."
"Right. So, by the end of that summer, we were inseparable."
"Until you were separated?"
"You know my struggle. Then that spring break…"
"Woo!"
I jump.
"What the hell was that?"
"Spring break," she says, as if that explains everything.
"Oh. Yes. Spring break. Woo. We, of course, went back to the country, but this time Cade was there. I got the impression Grammie and Gramps didn't really expect him to be there. Like he just showed up knowing we were going to be there, or maybe like he was intending on breaking in. I'm not sure. Anyway, he spent some time with Gramps, and then from then on, he stayed with us. If we were in the house, he was there, too. He slept there, spent every day there. It made it even harder to go back to school, but we spent more and more time together. He was the closest friend I had ever had, but there was so much more to it."
"Obviously."
"To me, maybe, but I didn't know if he felt the same way. He was older, and he had already dropped out of school at this point. I thought maybe he looked at me like a little sister, and that everything I was interpreting as him being interested in me was just the way close friends acted. Remember, I didn't really do the whole friendship thing. He was everything to me, and I was terrified if I said something, it would ruin everything we had. So, I just kept enjoying every moment I had with him. Then the winter I was fifteen, I got really sick."
"Oh, no."
"What, oh, no?"
"This is just like 'Casper'."
"Except I wasn't a twelve-year-old boy, I didn't get sick because I sled too much, and I didn't die and become an ethereal jokester."
"That's true."
"I had strep throat. It was awful, and all I wanted was Cade. Grammie brought me to the country house and I found out Cade was sick, too. We hadn't been anywhere near each other in a few weeks, so it seemed like this amazing connection with each other. I mean, in retrospect, it's gross, but it seemed like fate at the time. So, we spent the day curled up in blankets in front of the TV together watching movies. We drank hot chocolate and tried to make each other laugh. In the middle of one of the movies, he was cradling me in his lap, and he tucked his finger under my chin." I feel my voice catching in my throat as the memory from so many years ago plays out in my mind. “He tilted my face up to his, and he kissed me."
Esme gasps and then lets out a long sigh.
"That is bubbly!"
"I told you. What's funny is, things between us didn't really change much after that. We never said we were dating. Nothing ever became serious between us. Everything was pretty much the same as it had always been. We'd hold hands and cuddle like we always had, but occasionally steal a few kisses. I guess he recognized I wasn't ready for anything more than that. Then a few months later, he went to jail."
Esme gasps again, but this one didn't have any of the dreamy veil of the first.
"Jail?" she asks. "What did he do?"
"He drank with a couple of guys he was working with at the time and got in a fight with his father. It got really bad. He had just turned eighteen a few weeks before, so he was charged as an adult. They didn't give him a long sentence because his father was fighting, too, but when he got out, he called me and told me he wouldn't be coming back to the country that summer. He wouldn't tell me why. Looking back, I know that’s when everything changed."
"What do you mean?"
"We couldn't just be kids flirting and hiding from the world together anymore. For the next couple of years, we didn't see each other nearly as much as we used to, and we talked less and less over time. But he still meant the world to me, and whenever we were together, it was like we had never been apart."
I'm starting to tell Esme more about the end when I hear Grammie call for me. At least, I think it's her. It sounds like a cross between her calling my name and a cat yodeling for its mate at the same time.
"Is whatever that was OK?" Esme asks.
"That was Grammie. She needs something. I'll call you back when I get a chance."
"Wait, that's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"
"I'm sorry. I have to go make sure she's alright. That's the whole reason I'm here, remember?"
"Fine, but you owe me the rest."
"Absolutely. Talk to you soon. Bye."
Slipping the phone under the pillow on my bed like I always do, I head down the hallway toward Grammie.
"Is everything OK?" I ask as I step into the room.
"Is my laundry done?"
"Not yet," I say, trying to stop myself from grimacing. "I haven't switched it over to the dryer yet."
"Oh," she says, her eyes downcast. "Well, t
hat's alright. I'll just stay in these sheets another night. They've been doing me fine for the last two weeks. They'll get me through another day."
"Grammie, I will go finish your laundry. But we really need to talk about that washer and dryer."
"What about them?"
"Have you ever replaced them?"
Grammie looks offended by the question.
"Of course, I've replaced them. You don't think they're original to the house, do you?"
"Well, you aren't original to the house. Doesn't mean you're new."
"I told you, you were going to get sassier when you moved to the city," she says.
I sigh.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I'll go down and switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Is there anything I can get for you while I'm down there?"
"No," she says with a heavy breath. "I'll just wait for supper."
I immediately remember I haven't planned anything for supper. It's my first day, and I'm already dropping the ball as caregiver. I hope this isn't foreshadowing what the next three weeks are going to be like.
As I head back down the stairs, I can't help but think about my most recent conversation with Esme. Talking about my history with Cade isn't something I've ever done before. Even as I got older and expanded my friendships, started dating, and even got engaged to Ellis, I always felt like Cade was separate from the rest of my life. He always existed in a little bubble I didn't want anyone else to touch. Esme knew his name, and that he was someone very important from my childhood, but she never knew the whole story, and it feels strange and uncomfortable to go over all of it with her, especially now that I'm back in the house with him again.
The dryer is giving me delightful, screechy background music as I scrounge around the kitchen to find something to make as a snack for Grammie. Outside the storm is raging even louder, and I send a quick prayer to the Electricity Gods to not cast us into darkness. Carrying the snack up the stairs to Grammie, I notice I haven't seen Cade since slipping out of the shower. The bathroom door is standing open, the heavy, steamy air from our shower nearly vanished, and I notice the door to his bedroom is, too. I expect him to be in the room with my grandmother when I go in, but he isn't there, either. She notices my eyes flickering around the room as I approach the bed and offer her a bowl of sliced fruit that probably doesn't go together but was the healthiest option I could find in a pinch.
Unexpected Daddies Page 31
