Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced)

by Michelle Lynn

  Taylor

  UNABLE TO IDLY SIT BY while a brawl breaks out at my house between Sam and Brad, I beg Dr. James to let me go early. Lucky for me, he’s in a real good mood and we’ve slowed down dramatically in the past hour. There’s only an hour left in my shift, so Olivia agrees to cover my patients.

  I park alongside Sam’s truck in the driveway. Inhaling the deepest breath, I climb out of my beat-up car and walk through the back door. Em isn’t anywhere, and the two men are sitting on opposite ends of the couch watching television. What in the world could I have missed?

  “Hi,” I announce myself, approaching the back of the couch.

  Sam’s eyes light up and Brad’s roll.

  “She’s sleeping,” Sam says, moving to stand. My guess isn’t to leave. He circles around the end of the couch to meet me. Leaning over, he kisses my cheek, and I draw back, questioning why he would do that. “Welcome home.”

  “Jesus,” Brad whispers under his breath. He stands and his hurt eyes find mine, bringing a ripple of guilt. “I guess we’ll talk later, so you can have quality time with lover boy.” He moves over to the door, grabbing his coat from the hook.

  The words stay locked in my throat because I can’t have the conversation in front of Sam. I’ve already hurt him so much, but I’ve hurt Brad too. I’m stuck in a lose-lose situation.

  “Are you leaving?” I step forward, closer to him, but Sam follows.

  “Yeah. We’ll talk another time.” He slides his arms through his jacket and then peers down at me, his caramel eyes swimming with defeat. “Can I have her a night? Take her to my parents?”

  Sam coughs out, “Yeah right.” I look over my shoulder, scolding him with my eyes.

  “Brad,” I sigh, moving closer to him.

  “Can I talk to you outside then?” he says. Not waiting for me to answer, he swings the door open and steps out to stand on my front stoop.

  “Stay here,” I instruct Sam as though he’s my dog. Why not treat him like one, he’s peeing a circle around me and Em.

  I zip my coat back up and follow him outside.

  My feet barely hit the snow-dusted concrete before Brad starts talking, “Taylor, I’m sorry for earlier. I acted rash. I was just thrown off.” He shakes his head, drops his gaze but instantly picks it back up, his eyes locking with mine. “But I want time with her.”

  I nod, knowing I’d have to share her, but it doesn’t make it any easier. My nose tickles and I fear with all the emotions stirring inside me, I’m going to declare every fear and hope I have and dump it for him to deal with.

  “Okay, but she’s never been away from home.”

  “I’ll only be at my parents’. They live an hour away.”

  We never got to that step in our relationship where one meets the parents. I imagine they’re wealthy, poised, and caring people. Complete opposite from my family.

  “It’s hard for me, Brad. That’s asking a lot.”

  “Asking a lot? You didn’t tell me I had a daughter for two years, and I’m asking for one night. You’re refusing?”

  I exhale a breath in a slow stream, delaying my answer. “I didn’t refuse.”

  “You didn’t say yes either.” He steps closer to me, the familiar scent of his cologne invading my senses. “This isn’t up for debate. I want her for a night.”

  I hold my hands up, his heaving chest giving off heat. I quickly remove them before I lose all willpower. “Okay, okay. I’m off the next two days. That’s when I really get to spend time with her. Would you mind if I came with?”

  He backs up, stares up at the star-lined sky, and his chest rises and falls. “That defeats the point. I want to take care of her by myself.”

  My hand brushes his arm and he jolts, finally peering down at me. “Maybe we could talk too?” His sadness about our situation is stirring something within me, something that’s telling me to give us an honest chance, at least for Em’s sake.

  “Okay.” His shoulders fall and his eyes burn with something other than sadness now. It’s desire, and it’s pointed right toward me. A small smile creeps the corners of his lips and my stomach flips. Suddenly, we’re back where we were two years ago and he’s kissing me goodbye outside my door. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  My hand falls to my stomach, relieved we’re back to where we were before Mrs. Allen’s call, or at least, he’s acting like we are. I’ll take either at this point.

  My body shakes from the cold wind whipping around us. Brad pulls me into him and my hands easily slide around his back. His lips drop a kiss on the top of my head. Comforting and safe. Brad’s the only one able to bring those feelings from me.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I whisper into his jacket, half hoping the wind gust will carry my confession away.

  “I don’t want to.” His arms tighten around me and warmth spreads to the pit of my stomach. “But I won’t sit in the same room as that douche.”

  I draw back, and his hands cup my cheeks.

  “He’s helped me so much. Can’t you guys just try to get along?” The fight inside of me to keep them both in my life shows and his hands drop to his sides.

  “He told me you two were ‘together’.” He puts up air quotes.

  I blink, processing the information. I take full responsibility that lines might have been blurred between us, but I always stayed on my side. He’s my sister’s husband, and I would never see him as anything but that.

  “That’s not true.” I swallow down the anger. “I swear—”

  His finger presses against my lips. “I know.” There isn’t a sign on his face that tells me he believes otherwise.

  “Now, I need you to go.” My fingers grab his jacket by the fistfuls to hold him in front of me. “I have to talk to Sam. I thought I had cleared this up a few nights ago, but I’m guessing I didn’t.”

  “I’ll wait out here.” I should have expected nothing less.

  “No. We’re going to take this night away from one another. Then you’re picking Em and me up first thing in the morning, and we’ll go to your parents’ for the weekend.” I smile and a slow grin spreads across his face.

  “Okay.” His head slowly nods and his eyes focus in on my lips for a second.

  My tongue snakes out of reflex and his breathing becomes shallow. Unable to hold back, I rise on my tiptoes and lightly press my lips to his. Not wanting to allow it to go any further, I fall back on my heels. He blinks, those caramel eyes glimmering like he’s a thirteen-year-old boy who’d just had his first kiss.

  “I’ll be here at nine,” he says. “She can nap on the way.”

  My stomach somersaults because he already knows my—our daughter’s schedule.

  “We’ll be waiting.”

  His blazing eyes studies mine, and his hand slowly rises, grazing my cheek as his thumb swipes back and forth. “Good night, Taylor.”

  My body shivers as I watch his retreating back round the corner of the house toward his car. He never looks back, and I wait for his truck to pull out, wishing it were coming, not leaving.

  After he reverses, he waits on the street. He motions for me to go inside, and I nod, remembering he likes to make sure I’m safely inside before he leaves.

  When I open the door and step in, Sam is relaxed on my couch, his legs outstretched on top of my coffee table. I’ve seen him in this position plenty of times and it’s never brought up the clenching sensation in my stomach it does right now.

  “We need to talk,” I say, and break the distance between us.

  His legs swing down and his elbows rest on his knees. He expected this conversation, which is evident when his head falls between his shoulders before I say anything. “Why are you giving him another shot?”

  The distress is clear on his face, and I could smother myself for being the one who put us in this position. I should have never leaned on him as much as I did. I should have kept some distance between us, especially since he really isn’t family, what with my sister leaving him for s
ome jackoff, who could score her more drugs.

  “He’s her father.”

  He inhales a deep breath and his eyes follow me while I slide into the chair opposite him.

  “It’s not because of Em that you’re giving him a chance.”

  I nod.

  “Do you still love him?”

  My fingers knot together and I look down at the carpeted floor. I’m not going to shatter him.

  “Do you?” His voice rises and my shoulders shake from the surprise. I thought I would be unable to be that truthful to him, but with his voice rising, he’s asking for it.

  I lift my head and allow my eyes to lock with his. He will not intimidate me. I might feel guilt for allowing him to accept a role that wasn’t his in the first place, but I never stepped over that line. Not even an awkward hug was exchanged between us. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

  “I do.”

  His eyes darken as he stands up, snatching his coat from the arm of the chair. All his movements sharp and deliberate.

  “Figures. Don’t women always want what they shouldn’t?” he mumbles and stalks toward the door. “I promise you, Taylor, he’ll hurt you again. But now it’s not only you, it’s Em, too. What are you going to tell her the next time you find him with some trash?”

  I swallow down the words that I still fear every day.

  “You don’t have to worry about it if it happens. I’ll handle it.”

  “Damn right you will. Seriously,”—his fists clench in the air, his knuckles whitening, and it’s the first time I’ve witnessed this side of him, when his control is hanging on by a thread—“why do you Delaney girls want these boys, who treat you like shit? What’s wrong with the good guys, who cook you dinner, take care of your kids, and want to spend evenings wrapped up in only you?”

  My breathing stutters, because if this world made sense, I wouldn’t want a guy who cheated on me with some girl, whose name he probably doesn’t remember. I’d want a man like Sam—reliable, caring, and loving. But I can’t help but remember Brad has those qualities too. Most of all, I can’t deny that my heart belongs to Brad.

  “What can I say, Sam? Do you want to hear all the details? How my heart yearns for his arms to hold me at night. That seeing him with Em ignites this fire so deep and hot, I’m not sure I can hold myself back. I love him, and yes, we’ve both done shitty things to each other, but I never stopped loving him.”

  He huffs and back steps to the door. “You disgust me,” he sneers and opens the door. “Go fuck your life up just like your sister.”

  At first, I’m taken aback by his insults. It’s out of character for the Sam I know. But being unable to hold my mouth back at any point in my life, I have the last word before the door clicks shut. “Go to hell.”

  The door closes and I rush over, flicking the lock. My back rests along the door and my body slides down until my ass hits the floor. “He’s wrong. Brad will not hurt me this time around,” I murmur, hoping like hell if I repeat it enough times my fear will never come true.

  “Oh, Em, help Mommy out a little.”

  Em is standing at my legs, grasping for dear life as I try to pack her things for the weekend trip. I’ve picked up my phone at least five times this morning, ready to cancel on Brad. The thought of meeting his parents after hiding Em’s existence doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies. Then add on the fact I invited myself. My only hope is, by some off chance, Piper’s in town.

  “Mama,” she whines, and my shoulders slump, looking down at her, eager for me to hold her.

  “One minute, okay?” I abandon her bag and sit in the rocker. She climbs onto my lap with my help and we sit there for a minute. Her hands roam over my face and play with my hair. “You’re going to meet some people today,” I say.

  “Yeah,” she replies, her standard answer for almost anything I say.

  “Your grandparents.”

  “Papa,” she says, and I shake my head. She thinks she’s seeing my dad, who doesn’t even know anything about Brad, or the fact I’m leaving town for a few days. His life is that barstool at Carolle’s Tap.

  “New grandparents.”

  She busies herself with what I can assume is memorizing the features on my face, which makes me believe I’m having a one-way conversation with myself.

  “Brad’s,” I say, and her hands stop on my face, her eyes widen.

  “Dada?” My head draws back and she claps her hands like I just announced we were going to have ice cream.

  “Dada?” I question, because it’s not something we’ve ever discussed. Not that she can make sense of our unusual situation, being only twenty-two months.

  “Dada?” She twists around, her eyes examining every nook and cranny in the room. Not seeing what she wants, she climbs down from my lap and walks out of the room. “Dada,” she repeats. “Dada!” Every time she says it, she’s more insistent, and I wonder if she’s looking for Sam.

  She rolls on her stomach and slides down the stairs as I follow her, wondering where she’s going. “Em, I need to pack your bag. Dada, or whoever you believe is Dada, isn’t here,” I say, but she never turns around. Once her little feet hit the bottom of the stairs, she scampers over to the window, drawing back the curtain.

  “Dada!” she screams. She peers up at me and out the window again. “Dada!” Flabbergasted by this whole exchange, I kneel down by her at the window, seeing no one except a man walking his dog across the street.

  “That’s not Dada, baby.” My hand smoothes down her unruly hair. I make a mental note to pull it up into pigtails before we leave. No need for Brad’s parents to think I’m incapable of grooming their grandchild.

  “Dada!” She pounds on the glass, and I grab her hand.

  “That’s not Dada,” I repeat, trying to persuade her back upstairs.

  Just as we’re passing the front door, the doorbell rings. I glance at the clock on the wall, noticing it’s only eight, then back down to my unshowered self. Letting go of Em’s hand, I walk to the door and investigate through the peephole. Brad stands there with his hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet.

  “You’re early,” I say through the door, running a hand through my greasy hair.

  “Thought you might need help.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Why are we having this conversation through the door?”

  “Because I’m not ready.”

  “Open the door, Taylor.”

  “No.”

  “I held your hair back while you threw up Taco Bell in an alley. Open the door.” My shoulders slump. He has a point. “Maybe we should discuss the times we’d screw each other in the morning, or how I ventured down—”

  I unlock the door and open it up before he can finish. “No need to go down memory lane,” I say once we’re standing face to face.

  “Dada!” Em screams and runs toward him. Brad’s barely able to pull his hands out of his pockets to catch her.

  “Emerson.” He scoops her up and she runs her hands down his scratchy beard.

  “I quite enjoyed thinking about those times when you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he softly says, and presses his lips to Em’s forehead.

  “Well, that’s probably how we got her,” I mention, twisting my mop of hair into a ball behind my head.

  “Let’s make some more.” He chuckles, and a nervous laugh sneaks out, unsure how serious he is.

  “You mind filling me in on why she’s calling you Dada?” Em’s admiring eyes stare up at her dad like he’s Santa Clause. She already loves him. Those annoying words Sam spilled out last night float back to the forefront of my mind. Brad will stick around, I’m sure of it.

  “I taught it to her.” A proud expression splashes across his face and he carries Em into my house.

  “When?” I shut the door and flick the lock while trying not to inhale his cologne that makes me dizzy with want.

  “We worked on it when I’d pick her up
. Who am I, Emerson?” he prompts her.

  “Dada,” she answers, and he reaches into his pocket to grab a row of Smarties. He unrolls it and hands her a colored sugar disc.

  “Good job.” She places it on the tongue she’s stuck out once she answered.

  “She’s not a dog,” I comment. “It’s like you’re conducting Pavlov’s experiment while I’m at work.”

  “No, it’s not. I don’t give her the reward, and then she says it. It’s reinforcement. She says Mama and she should say Dada too.” He places her on the ground and she scurries over to her toy bin. “And not to that jackass,” he whispers only to me, and I roll my eyes because this whole thing is so Brad.

  I exhale a deep breath and decide not to fight. I took enough away from him all those years ago.

  “Do you mind watching her while I shower?” I begin to back step to the stairs, and he sits with Em on the floor.

  “Not at all. Em likes spending time with her Dada.” He laughs, tickling her, which entices her laughter, and then he looks back to me with a cocky grin. All I can do is smile back because they are terribly cute together.

  “I’ll be fast.”

  “Taylor?” Brad yells, and I stop, looking back over to him.

  “You’re a knock-out in the morning.” One side of his mouth curves up and a rush of heat floods my body. After a deep inhale, I double-time it up the stairs before I run over to him and sprinkle kisses all over his face.

  An hour later, we’re packed up in Brad’s truck and on our way out of Roosevelt.

  “Good riddance,” I say as we pass the Leaving Roosevelt sign.

  “That’s not nice,” Brad comments, fiddling with the radio.

  I glance back at Em staring out the window, holding one of the princess dolls that her Dada gave her. Her eyes are droopy, signaling she’s close to falling asleep.

  “I hate this town,” I whisper, which he should already know. I rambled on enough about it in college. But then again, maybe he wasn’t listening.