Now, sitting across from my wife at a diner in a place I didn’t want to be, waiting on people I didn’t want to see, I decided it was time for me to start repaying Tilly for some of the beauty she’d brought into my life. There was no fucking way I’d ever be able to come close to what she’d done for me, but I could sure as hell try.
Taking her tiny, slim hand in mine and meeting her gaze head on I ask,
“Do you want to know what my icing was yesterday?” With a suspicious look on her face she nods squeezing my hand tightly. “My icing was for the first time in a long fucking time I didn’t need you to tell me you loved me to believe it. You showed me by taking my back with my parents’ and coming with me. You showed me by taking me inside your beautiful body. And you showed me by not giving up on us.”
Tears fill her eyes, her lower lip wobbling as she tries to hold them back.
“Mine was you forgiving me, even though I didn’t deserve it. I jumped to conclusions about you and that nasty tramp, and for that I’m so sorry, Tobi. So very sorry I didn’t ask you what was going on between you. I should have…”
“You’ve got fucking nothing to be sorry for, babe.” I snap cutting her off. “Like I told you, that shit is on me not you, and it’s done. Well and truly done. We’re moving on and leaving that shit in the past where it belongs. You and me are good, we always will be.” Before I get a chance to lean over the table and kiss her the way I want to, a throat beside us clears and I look up into the eyes of my dad.
Jade green eyes, the exact shade as my own, pierce mine with an intensity born of pain. His hair may be greying around his temples, but other than that it shows no signs of thinning, hiding his true age. My dad always took care of himself, eating healthy when he could, working out in either our home gym or the one at work, and I notice that hasn’t changed. If anything he looks better than he had when he was substituting regular meals with scotch or whiskey. At six-foot-one, only two inches shorter than me, what Jack Phillips lacked in stature he made up for in presence.
He’d always been a man that could command the attention of a room with one look, but Jack Phillips didn’t lord his position or power over anyone, because he didn’t need to. His reputation spoke for him, and in the circles he travelled he was well liked and treated with the respect he deserved. But at home, it was a different story altogether. At home Jack was relaxed, the voice of reason, and the parent both he and Finley went to if they needed something they knew their mom would immediately say no to. No, at home his dad wasn’t the corporate, suit wearing shark that lacked tact or a conscience, he was a good man and an equally good dad…Until he wasn’t.
Unsure what to say, I move out of the booth and slide in silently beside Tilly. I thought this would be easy, but within seconds I realize my mistake. There’d be nothing easy or relaxed about this reunion, and I’d be counting on Tilly to keep me calm and sane. I could already feel the resentments and anger of old resurfacing, and I only hoped I was in control of myself enough to keep it locked down tight.
Following suit, my mom and dad slide in across from us allowing me to take my first look at the woman who gave me life. At this point that was all I was willing to concede she’d done for me. Sure, she’d been around until Finley died and she’d done it in a way we knew she loved and cared for us, but that changed and so did my perception of her. Mom mightn’t have been as free with her praise as dad or involve herself in every minor detail of our lives, but there wasn’t a day that went by that we didn’t know we were important to her.
The best way to describe Lillian Phillips is, elegant. Everything about her from the top of her boutique salon, platinum blonde dyed hair, to her weekly pedicure painted toes is elegant. There had been more than once in the months leading up to me leaving home when I wondered if I’d ever see her like this again. Put together and poised. I’d dreamed that one morning she’d wake up, realize what she was doing to us, and announce she was off to her hairdresser or a manicure appointment. As odd a thought as that was to have, I wouldn’t have cared less if she’d spent that time actually working on herself rather than consoling me. At least that would’ve proved she was moving on, that she would one day come back to us. But she did none of that. Instead she wallowed in her own despair, let herself go to the point I no longer recognized her, and let our family disintegrate.
Looking at her now I can see she’s not the woman I left behind. The shadows of Finley’s death still lurk inside her blue eyes, but they aren’t blood-shot and unfocused anymore and the pain is deep not right on the surface. They’re the crystal clear, blue eyes I saw smile down at me in my childhood memories. Her five-foot-seven frame was always willowy, but unlike the gaunt, skeletal figure she had years ago, she’s healthier now. I’d almost say she’s back to resembling the woman I knew when I was seventeen.
Her dark, pinstriped slacks, cream cashmere sweater, and the signature single strand of pearls are all reminiscent of the outfits she wore to work every day. My mom would carefully plan out her wardrobe choice the night before, laying everything out on the armchair in the corner of her and dad’s room. She always said preparation is key, organized people are the masters of their own universe. Words she lived and breathed before everything went to shit.
Lillian Phillips wasn’t the kind of mom who baked with her kids, got her hands dirty, took them to after school activities, or read them bedtime stories. What Lillian Phillips was, was a Mother who doted on her children from afar, bragged about their accomplishments to anyone who’d listen, and always prided herself in opening doors for them most other kids would’ve only dreamed of. In her own way it was how she showed she cared. How she showed she was proud of Finley and I.
I didn’t get it at first and I wouldn’t until Finley explained it to me, but my mom’s mom, our Grandmother, wasn’t the maternal type. She was strict, exacting in her standards and what she expected of her only daughter, and she didn’t tolerate overt shows of affection. Growing up like that, with a woman obsessed with how society viewed her, basing all her decisions on what she believed was proper and what the right etiquette was rubbed off on my mom to no small extent. She wasn’t half as uptight as her mother was, but she was still wound tighter than most. But now, sitting across from her for the first time in fifteen years I notice something I’d never seen before. Vulnerability.
Covering Tilly’s hand that’s made its way to my thigh in a non-verbal show of support, I interlace our fingers stroking the pad of my thumb along the outside of hers.
“Well, I’m here, you’re here, do you want to give me what you said you had for me over the phone now?”
I don’t see the point in wasting time with small talk. It’ll only serve to give them false hope there’ll be a reconciliation in the future, something that won’t be happening.
“Hello, Tobias. It’s so good to see you looking well.” Mom whispers quietly. Glancing at Tilly she asks, “And who is this beautiful, young woman you’ve brought with you?”
I can see the cogs turning in her head. She’s trying to work out if Tilly’s merely the woman of the week, my girlfriend, or something more. I’m not sure why and I hope I don’t hurt Tilly by saying it, but I reply with a non-answer.
“None of your business. We’re here because I was told you have something of Finley’s for me, no other reason. You’ve changed your mind, fine, but this meeting isn’t a fucking family reunion and I don’t have time to sit around playing nice while you decide what your new angle’s gonna be. So, either hand it over or we’re leaving. Those are your choices. Now, make one.”
Tilly clears her throat delicately, throwing me a reassuring smile before she addresses them both.
“I’m sure you can understand that your call came as somewhat of a shock. Not hearing from you for a number of years, and then all of a sudden out of nowhere you call wanting to reconnect, that would be a surprise for anyone. What you don’t know, and would have no reason to, is that your call came at a particularly troublesome time for u
s. No disrespect intended, but knowing your son as well as I do, I would highly consider sharing what you have with him and then try to broach conversation not the other way around. Tobias isn’t a patient man on the best of days, and drawing this out will only make matters worse, not better.”
Fuck I love when she talks in her librarian voice. Highly educated and intelligent. I’ve got no clue why, but hearing her speak all prim and proper really does it for me. But I’m not sure she’d appreciate me bending her over the table in front of my parents’ and fucking the shit out of her to show her how much she’s turned me on, so I do my best to tell the hard on I’m sporting to calm the fuck down.
My dad nods solemnly, pulling a small leather bound book out of his jacket pocket. I’d recognize that book anywhere, it was Finley’s diary. Something she wrote in every day without fail. Something I’d tried more than a few times to get my hands on when we were younger for no other reason than to piss her off. Handing it to me he says,
“We haven’t read it. I don’t believe it was our place to. You however, I would like to think I knew my daughter well enough to know she’d want you to have this.” Taking a deep breath in through his nose he adds, “We are selling the house. There are too many bad memories there to keep it any longer. Your mother and I haven’t lived there for fourteen years and it’s time to let it go and move on with our lives.”
I’m surprised they’d do that. They love that house, or they did. Moreover, Finley had loved that house. I may have come to hate it, to view it as a living tomb, but when I was younger I’d loved it to. I can’t say I blame them though. If it were me I’d have burned the fucking thing to the ground years ago. And if he’s waiting for me to beg him not to sell it, to keep it in the family, he better not hold his breath because it’s not happening.
Taking the diary from his hand I place it on the seat between me and Tilly, and look up to find mom’s eyes wet with tears.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to see you for, Tobias. Do you think you could spare the time to have lunch with us? Maybe catch us up on what you’ve been doing with your life? It would mean the world to us if you could.”
What the fuck do I say to that? I want to say no. Everything in me is screaming at me to say no, but glancing at Tilly, seeing her encouraging nod, I do the same.
“Yeah. I think I’ve got enough time to do that.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tallulah
“Friends are God’s way of apologizing for shitty family.”
- Rotten eCard
Getting to know a little about Tobias’s mom and dad was interesting to say the least. It was obvious my husband wasn’t comfortable with the idea of spending any more time with them than absolutely necessary, but in the end I think he’s grateful he did. Not because it offered him any sense of closure on the past, but because he got to see for himself they had cleaned their lives up, and were finally finding the strength and determination to move on and lay the past to rest.
While I couldn’t begin to understand the pain of losing a child, and to be honest I don’t even want to contemplate it, holding on to that pain, allowing it to define you and the way you live your life isn’t living, it’s existing. Ade is a perfect example for anyone struggling with their loss. I don’t only admire her, I’m in awe of the way she’s dealt with losing two of her babies. They may not have been born into the world, taken their first breath, opened their eyes and seen their mother for the first time, or spoken their first word, but that doesn’t make it any less of a loss. If anything it makes it more of one.
Ade didn’t get to feed either of her children. She didn’t get to hold them in her arms and rock them to sleep. She missed out on holding their hands as they learned to walk, and putting Band-Aids on their knees when they lost their balance. There was no teaching them to ride a bike, no first day of school, and no cheering for them at their first little league game. There would be no birthdays, no celebrations when they graduated high school and college, no congratulations when they got engaged and then married. No, she didn’t get the chance to do any of that. And that’s why, to me, what Ade suffered through, the loss she will always live with is exponentially worse.
Jack and Lillian Phillips may have lost one child due to a horrible tragedy, but they lost the other through their neglect and selfishness. Abandoning Tobias to lick their own wounds was, in my eyes, their biggest mistake of many. If Finley had been their only child, I could possibly have sympathized more with the way they chose to deal with her loss. Not that I’m condoning their abuse of drugs and alcohol, because I definitely don’t, but I would have been less willing to judge their behavior so harshly.
The meal was winding down when his dad hesitantly spoke.
“We would love to see you again, Son. Would you be open to giving our family the chance to see if we can get to know each other again? Maybe spending occasional holidays together. We could take thing slowly, rebuild cautiously. What do you think?”
Tobias’s tension increased dramatically at his rapid fire questions. The mask of anger that had slipped over his previously wary yet relaxed face was one I’d seen many times before. This was the mask he wore every time he needed to deal with something for the club. It was ominous and foreboding, and I’d hate to be on the receiving end of it.
Agitated and impatient Tobias finally snaps. I’ll give him this, he held on to his temper for longer than I’d expected.
“See, this is the thing. I’ve got a family. Two actually. My brothers, my club, their kids and old ladies were there for me when I didn’t have anyone else. Later I met Tilly and my world started to spin again. Her and our three kids are my life. I know for a fact, one that’s been tested over and fucking over again, that our relationship is forged from something far stronger than yours and mine was. There’s not a fucking doubt in my mind she’d be there to support me if anything like what I went through after losing Finley happened again.” Sparing his mom a quick glance before looking back to his dad, Tobias goes on to say, “And you’ve gotta know, that means more to me than any half-assed, too little too late attempt to clear your consciences, which is what your suggestions are.”
Tobias rises from the booth, me following closely behind him.
“You’ve also gotta know, it’s time for you to leave everything in the past. That means me too. I was lost to you the day you turned your fucking back on me. The day you decided a bottle of pills or a fifth of scotch was more important than your own son was the day you chose this path, and you’re gonna have to deal with all that entails. First being, you don’t get to ask me for shit. I’ve got a full life. A life I carved out for myself. One I’d move heaven and hell to keep. One I’d die for. I don’t give the first fuck whether you’ve dried out and been sober over a decade. That shit was for you, not me. Am I happy to see you’re not the fucked up shells you used to be? Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want back in.” Shaking his head sadly he adds, “Thanks for the book. Hope you find the kind of peace you’re looking for some day.”
Tobias takes my hand in his and we walk out of the diner without looking back. I didn’t doubt his words. I know when Tobias says he’s done, he is indeed done. And he isn’t a man who writes people off lightly. It had hurt him to do it, but in his mind it was necessary, and who am I to argue with that? They are his parent’s. It’s his history. The only thing left for me to do, as he said, is to support however he chooses to play this out.
The ride home from Denver was done at a far more sedate pace than the trip there. There wasn’t any anticipation or anxiety over the meeting, meaning Tobias was free to enjoy the freedom the road brought him. Two and a half hours isn’t a long ride by any stretch of the imagination, but having not been on the back of his bike for so long, I found my thighs aching, my ass numb, and my back desperately in need of a stretch. After just over an hour I was close to begging for a break, but I didn’t want to interrupt Tobias to ask for it. I knew the time he spent on his bike he used to think. I
t was his version of retreating into himself and working things out. No. My need for a reprieve from my discomfort was nowhere near as important as Tobias’s need to ride.
We got home a little after five, and while I was itching to see the girls I wanted one last night just Tobias and I before the chaos of our daily lives intruded. But looking up to see Stacey standing on our door step I knew immediately the tone of our evening was going to be a hell of a lot different to the one I’d hoped for.
Stalking up the gravel path that leads directly to the base of the steps, Tobias’s voice booms, echoing off the exterior walls of the house.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Haven’t you fucked up enough peoples’ lives? I suggest you take whatever bullshit you’re trying to pedal and take it elsewhere, because we’re not buying.”
“I, um, I just wanted to talk for a minute, and to apologize. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time. It’s just, it’s about Tucker,” Stacey manages to barely stutter out.
Rolling my eyes as I push past her to unlock the front door, I know I’m going to regret this but what the hell.
“Five minutes, but do me a favor, don’t bother apologizing. Nothing you can say will undo the damage you’ve done, so save yourself the trouble and the oxygen.”
Tobias doesn’t appear to be particularly happy with my decision, but what did he expect? The second she mentioned Tucker it made me think of Nevie. He’s an innocent two-year old caught up in drama he doesn’t understand, and he’s probably scared and confused. No matter how much I hate his mother, and don’t doubt that I do, I can’t leave Tucker floating on the breeze. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or to my husband for that matter. Regardless of what Tobias says, he loves that little boy and wants to be there for him in some capacity. Whether that be as a friend or Uncle, he wants to remain in his life I know that much.
Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 17
