by Meg Maguire
“I will.” Encumbered by the two glasses, she could only passively accept the kiss he leaned in to plant on her cheek. Just the contact of his nose at her temple felt so sweet and familiar that dangerous emotion was welling all over.
“Drive safe,” she said as he pulled away. “And good luck with the job.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.” A final smile, and he was gone, leaving Steph’s body suspended somewhere between warm and cold, infatuated and abandoned. She felt tired, suddenly, but the undertone of drunken giddiness... That was all Patrick. He left a little hangover in his wake, a faint ache in her body, with his so far away.
Of all people to bear witness, Kristy came trotting over, smiling broadly, hoisting her gown to keep from tripping. The woman seriously had some kind of radar, designed to hone in on Steph when she felt the most vulnerable.
“Penny! Your date isn’t leaving, is he?” Her perky smile drooped dramatically.
“He had a sort of work emergency.” Don’t ask what he does. Steph didn’t give a shit about how an electrician stacked up against a banker...but she worried one snide comment from Kristy might have her second-guessing that certainty.
“That’s too bad.”
“You having a good time on your big day?” Steph asked limply, and added, “You look gorgeous. Patrick said so, too.” Her cousin’s face was alight from the dancing, some of that teenage beauty shining through.
Kristy shrugged the compliment away, the gesture looking uncharacteristically genuine. “You have no idea how excited I am that this is over—I swear I haven’t eaten a single carbohydrate in three months to fit into this thing.” She smoothed the dress along her waist.
Steph had to smile at that. “I feel your pain. Sounds like a weigh-in.”
Kristy gave Steph an appreciative glance. “What I’d give for your body, Pen.”
Steph laughed, shocked. This from the woman who’d made her feel like a musclebound freak since puberty. “Really?”
Kristy sank into a stray chair with a sigh, and Steph followed suit, abandoning the glasses.
“I remember when we were kids, and we’d go to the lake,” Kristy said. She crossed her legs, revealing that she’d ditched her heels. A Band-Aid decorated her instep, undermining her usual vibe of effortless glamour. “You could just strip down to your swimsuit like it was the easiest thing in the world.”
Steph frowned. She remembered those summer days differently. Of Kristy sprawled all golden on the sand, tanning beside some bitch friend or other, her imperial expression condemning Steph’s pasty, boobless frame or the racket she and their guy-cousins made, shoving one another off the dock.
“You had the most amazing body,” Kristy said. “And you could eat whatever you wanted. I was so jealous.”
“You were? But you were, like, high school royalty.”
“I guess. But do you have any idea how hard I had to work at it? I didn’t let myself eat, like, a single gram of fat, from twelve to twenty-five. Every day, frigging carrot sticks and diet soda. And there you were, scarfing pizza like all the guys, actually at peace with your body. While I was constantly battling mine.”
Steph blinked, blindsided. All those mean snipes about her build, the way she ate... She wanted to ask about those, but now wasn’t the time. Plus it suddenly seemed possible that those comments had been as reactionary and thoughtless as a defensive jab Steph might toss out to keep an opponent at bay. Maybe Kristy had barely even registered saying those things—words that had echoed in Steph’s head for years...
Just as Steph had never realized that her body or her eating habits had struck Kristy like a low-blow, and contributed to her own high-school hell.
“I never realized you... I dunno. That you were insecure.”
Kristy laughed. “No? I thought everyone could tell.”
“You were popular. You had it made.”
Kristy snorted. “Did your mom never mention all the therapy I had to go through, when we were teenagers?”
“What? No.”
“I must have seen about five shrinks. For eating disorders and college application stress... I was a mess. Meanwhile, there you were, actually enjoying the so-called best years of our lives. I’d watch you, around school. With your tiny waist and, like, no body fat, looking all perfect in those skinny-strapped tank tops and track pants that were in. Just joking around with boys like it was nothing.”
“Jeez. I always looked at you like... I dunno. Like you knew how to be a girl or something. Like you were in on the secret.”
Someone called Kristy’s name and she gave them a wave of acknowledgment. As she got to her feet she said, “If I did, the secret must’ve been, ‘treat your body like the enemy.’”
Steph stood. “That’s so sad. I had no idea.”
“I hated high school. I hated college, too. I switched majors three times while you were in, like, Australia and Japan and all these interesting places. You always knew exactly who you were. I didn’t feel that until about three years ago.”
“You seem happy now.”
She smiled. “I am. Meeting Brad and the boys put stuff in perspective. Them, and my latest therapist,” she said with a guilty smile. “Plus Brad met me when I was feeling really chubby and awful, but the way he looked at me... He saw something in there, I guess. Something underneath. And it made me want to be able to see that, too.”
Steph’s lips pursed and trembled. Her cousin had made her cry before, but never like this. She got ahold of herself. “Sounds like true love.”
Kristy nodded and glanced across the room. “I think they want me for photos. But I’m glad we got to catch up.”
“Me, too.”
And for the first time ever, not forced by the expectant eyes of family, they hugged.
With a few final volleyed compliments, Steph wished her cousin well.
She found her parents and explained Patrick’s disappearance, then spent the rest of the reception camped contentedly at a quieter table with Robbie. When the bride and groom returned to the dance floor, Steph realized with a deep sense of calm that all that old angst was gone, outgrown and cast aside just like Kristy’s sharp edges. Funny how love and parenthood did that to people, melted all their prickles away in the face of something so...primal.
Patrick had done that to her. Dissolved her determination to choose with her head, hijacking her sense with the mere nearness of his body, the warmth of his smile. It was too soon to be love though. And her misgivings still lingered.
“Jesus,” Robbie muttered. “Tim’s wasted.”
Steph watched their little brother, dancing as though he were in the grips of a seizure. “That he is.”
“Scares the shit out of me,” Robbie said. “Thinking he’s heading down the same path I took.”
“He’s had his job over a year now.”
“Yeah, that’s true...I still worry, though. Thank God one of us was born with self-control, huh?” He shot Steph a look. “You always had that. Discipline.”
She smiled. “I’m just stubborn.”
“Whatever it is, keep it up.”
They sat in easy silence for a long time, until Robbie said, “Too bad Patrick had to go.”
She nodded.
“You said you guys are just casual?”
“Yeah. That’s all it really can be, I think.” Though it made her heart ache to say so.
“How come?”
“He’s so unstable financially. He’s on the brink of losing his house.”
“That sucks.”
“It does, yeah. It’s a beautiful little place, and he put a ton of work into it.”
“Why can’t you date him, though?”
She eyed her brother. “You know how Mom and Dad were, all those years when we were still at home?”
“All the money stress?”
“I lived through that once. I don’t think I can handle signing up to go through it again, with a partner.”
“He’s crazy about you,” Robbie said wit
h a smile.
“I’m a little crazy about him, too,” she admitted, and felt fresh tears stinging.
“He stares at you like you’re cut out of diamond.”
Embarrassed, she looked to her hands, fidgeting with her empty wineglass.
“You’ve dated some real dopes before.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“But some okay guys, too...but none who looked at you like that.”
It gave her pause. “No, probably not.”
“This one might be down on his luck, but nine guys out of ten wouldn’t find the strength to put aside all this fun on the off-chance they might be able to secure some work.”
“He’s awfully desperate for it.”
Robbie nudged her. “Maybe he’s determined. Maybe he’s a man who, no matter how rough things got...he’d do what it took to keep the boat afloat.”
She stared at her glass. Robbie had a point. Patrick knew what he loved doing, what he was meant to do...but he didn’t put himself above a second vocation, not even one that dropped him in a position where he felt incompetent. That had to be humbling. Steph wasn’t sure she could do it, herself.
“That was one thing Dad never did,” Robbie said quietly. “He never adapted. He never got over thinking he was too good to take any old job to keep the money coming in, even after his skills were basically extinct.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“That guy you were dancing with tonight,” her brother said slowly. “I can’t say I know him, but I had a chance to talk to him. I can tell you a few things.”
“Like?”
“I bet he’d take a gig waiting tables at a mall Chili’s before he’d roll over and give up the house he loves.”
She nodded. “He would.” He’d likely be awful at it, mess up orders and drop drinks and get bitched out by jerky customers, but he’d smile through every minute, because that’s who Patrick was.
“I’m gonna hit way below the belt and make this about fighting,” Robbie warned.
She sighed. “Go ahead.”
“You’ve gone into matches where you said that the other girl was just out of your league, that you knew you’d lose.”
“And I was usually right.”
“But you fought anyway. You knew you’d lose but you still kept on swinging until you were what, knocked out? About to get an arm broken?”
She nodded.
“That’s probably what your friend’s feeling these days. He’s like, staggering around, bleeding from the head, but he’s not gonna stop swinging as long as there’s any chance that house could stay his.”
“No, he’s not.” Selling the place would make Patrick’s life easier...but it wouldn’t make him happy.
Meeting some well-off guy might make Steph’s life easier.
But could it ever make her happy?
She eyed her parents, sitting at a table closer to the action. Her mom had her hand on her dad’s back, rubbing slowly. How many nights had Steph peeked from the dark hallway, watched the two of them sitting just this way at the kitchen table.
All that stress. All those bills. All that misery.
She watched her mom’s hand, circling, circling.
And it occurred to her for the first time, that wasn’t consolation, that gesture. There was a promise in that contact, one that said, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. She could have. She could have taken her kids and gone off in search of greener pastures, but she never had. She hadn’t run from the struggle. She’d joined the fight and never looked back.
When the going got tough for my parents, Steph realized, the team got tighter. The team hadn’t disbanded, with one member giving up just because the outcome had grown bleak. Theirs was no fair-weather marriage, as it seemed Patrick’s had been.
So what was Steph guilty of? Of not even daring to join Patrick’s side, knowing they were doomed to be underdogs for the long haul?
What good is a guaranteed win, she wondered, imagining a stable, comfortable life with some man like Dylan Benedetti, if you have no passion? No struggle to keep you hopeful, no loyalty to the ones who shared that struggle?
Robbie nudged her again until she met his eyes. “Guy like that could maybe use a good corner.”
She pursed her lips.
“You like him, kiddo. I can tell. And this guy deserves it, unlike some of those losers you used to moon over.”
She laughed.
“Do something crazy, Steph.”
“Like what?”
“Move in with him. Help him with the mortgage. Dive into the deep end and paddle with him, and see if maybe the struggle doesn’t suck so much, if the company’s great.”
Her heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through her veins. “That’s such a scary leap to take.”
Robbie leaned back in his seat, shrugging with a derisive sort of look on his face.
“What?”
“If you don’t believe in the guy, then you’ve got your answer. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at a man like that. Not one I actually approve of.” After a brief silence, he drained his iced tea and stood. He cast her a final glance. “And I don’t think I’ve ever known my little sister to give up, just because somebody convinced her she was fighting a losing battle.”
She glared at the cheap shot, but her heart wasn’t in it. Robbie disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone with far too many questions.
12
PATRICK GOT HOME from Worcester just past midnight, yawning mightily. Funny how he’d gone from happy and relaxed to feeling about a hundred years old, all in one drive.
Inside, he bumped the thermostat up to fifty-five, brushed his teeth, stripped to his boxers and set his alarm. His sheets were freezing as he slipped between them. And empty. Funny he would notice—he’d been climbing into this bed alone for over a year now. Except for that one miraculous night, last week.
Man, this sucked. He stared at the ceiling, thinking he ought to be with Steph now, maybe having that awesome, fraught, silent-sex, the kind you have when you’re staying at someone’s parents’ place. That’d probably be hard for her, she was so... Whatever the right word was. Demanding? Physical? Something. The sex probably would have been even hotter for it, with her all frustrated and pent up, trying to be quiet. He smiled at that.
Okay, so not being in the middle of having hot sex with Steph sucked, but on the bright side, maybe he’d score some work in a few hours. Electrical work, but still.
He had that stuff on the horizon for Steph’s scary coworker, what’s-his-name. Not the most glamorous gig, but it’d be satisfying to take that old three-decker and slowly turn it into something special. Plus maybe Steph would wind up living there, and even if he bungled everything with her this go-around, in a few months they might have some new chances to cross paths. Provided he didn’t get all distracted and clumsy and set her unit on fire by mistake.
Fall asleep, he commanded himself. How many hours until he had to be back on the road? Four and a half? Damn, he better get this job. What a kick in the nuts that would be, to miss out on a job and the hot sex.
Sleep seemed determined not to come. After twenty minutes of just lying in the dark, he switched on the bedside lamp and propped an extra pillow under his head. His history-buff sister had sent him a massively boring book about Irish genealogy. He opened it to where he’d left off, skimming until he tripped over the surname of a friend or relative.
His eyes opened at the sound of a bell. The book was flopped on his chest and the clock read one-sixteen. Another ring woke him fully, and he tossed the book aside and abandoned the warmth of his bed, jogging through the den. At this hour, an emergency was the most logical explanation, followed swiftly by a very forthright burglar.
He opened his front door, finding neither of those things. He squinted against the glare of the headlights silhouetting Steph. Her gown fluttered in the wind.
“Whoa.” He shielded his eyes.
“Hey.” What she made of his near nakedness, he couldn’t tell—her face was all in shadows. “Can I come in?”
“Of course. Hi.”
She waved to the car and someone waved back, then it reversed onto the street.
Patrick closed the door behind her, eyes adjusting. “Wasn’t expecting to see you again, tonight.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry. You probably need your sleep.”
He dismissed the thought with a shrug, then rubbed his goosebumpy arms. “Can we talk in bed? I’m freezing.”
“Lead the way.”
Once he was settled under the covers, Steph sitting atop them cross-legged in her party ensemble, he had to grin. She’d come all the way here, this late. Somehow. For something.
“Who drove you?”
“My brother. The sober one.”
“That was nice of him.”
She nodded.
“So what’s up?”
“I needed to come and see you. And...and be with you.”
Damn. The woman he was nuts about had come all the way from Worcester to be with him? “That’s awesome. C’mere.”
He tossed the covers aside and she scooted beneath them, curling her body against his. The fabric of her dress felt cool and slippery against his bare skin. She stroked his chest, and he toyed with the hair that had slipped out of her updo, breathed in her exotic perfume smell.
“What’d I do to deserve this long-distance booty call?” he teased.
“You left the party.” She met his eyes, expression serious.
“I didn’t want to.”
“I know you didn’t. I know there was probably no other place you wanted to be besides there, with me.”
He smiled, bashful. “I told you as much. I’m no good at keeping my feelings a secret.”
“But you put work first, and you left.”
Was she trying to make him feel bad? Patrick was no good with these sorts of layered conversations.
“You’d do anything you had to, to keep this house.”
“Short of hurting somebody or decimating my credit? Yeah. I would. I think your coworker might have some work for me, actually. Carpentry, on his place in Lynn.”
