You broke mine a long time ago.
"I’m sorry, but you’ll find someone who wants the same in life," I tell him. "It’s just not going to be me."
Ace grips his hands around the coffee mug. "I appreciate your honesty, and I needed this closure before giving up on us, but I understand."
"I should have talked to you about my feelings before everything happened with my dad, but I felt like I ran out of time, and I needed to be here."
"I know," he says. "Brett seems like a nice guy."
I don’t want to discuss anything about Brett with him, so I give a little smile and take a sip from my coffee. "Are you staying in Vermont or going back?" Please don’t stay.
"I’m going back, but I plan to sell the house and get a smaller condo somewhere closer to work. I can box up the things you left and ship them to your mom’s."
"I’ll have my car picked up and brought up north," I say, finalizing the closure of our past.
Ace scratches at the back of his neck. "I wish you lots of luck, and I hope things get easier for you and your family."
Easier. There’s no such thing after losing a parent. I reach into my pants pocket for the five-dollar bill I have, pulling it out to pay for my coffee. "Here.” I toss the money down and try not to give him another look.
"I got it, Mel."
"I’d rather pay for my coffee," I reply, now knowing the thought of dividing assets was a fear of his with regard to committing himself to me. Things can end on an amicable note, but I never took advantage of what he had, and never asked for a thing, except for his love. If anything, I see now, his money kept him from giving those non-tangible things to me.
I take my wet jacket from the back of the seat and force my arms into the sleeves. "Take care, Ace.” I close my eyes and walk away.
Journey is scanning through her phone when I knock on the window, waiting for her to unlock the door. Before climbing inside, I notice Brett watching us from inside the shop. I assume he’s wondering what just happened.
Well, he can wonder about the situation all he wants.
23
I focused on edits for the greater part of the afternoon, trying to block out every other thought I could have obsessed over. I can’t understand why Ace would fight so hard for me when years have gone by, where I questioned whether we were only roommates with the occasional benefits he desired.
I’m not happy Ace involved Brett, or that Brett is convinced things were more serious between Ace and me than they were. The topic of getting married hadn’t come up in almost a year because I stopped asking, so for Brett to think I walked away from an upcoming proposal means Ace must have made it sound like that’s what I did. Ace has the ability to lay the charm on thick to anyone, especially since he works in sales. He can only fool people for so long. Unless it’s me who turned a blind eye to the reality of our situation.
"Melody," Mom shouts from the bottom of the stairwell. Her voice sounds muffled as it travels through my closed bedroom door. I place my laptop down on the bed and poke my head out into the hallway, finding her with a spatula in one hand and a whisk in the other. "Dinner will be ready in a minute."
People have been sending us ready-to-eat meals from local restaurants thanks to Erin Daniels’ kind efforts, but Mom has been freezing them and cooking, anyway. I know it’s her therapy, but she hardly eats what she makes. We sit down at the table and she stares at her food, poking at it with a fork until she takes one measly bite.
I’ve tried to tell her it isn’t necessary for her to cook a full dinner like this every night, but I stopped mentioning it after her last stern reminder of, cooking clears her mind.
"How are your edits?" Mom asks.
"Not too bad. I’m adapting a novel for a film-script form. It’s going well."
"That’s good," she says. I’m not sure she heard anything I said, but I appreciate her asking. "I thought you might have worked at the shop a little longer today after getting a ride from Brett. I didn’t expect to see you home so early."
Her gaze is stuck on the portion of raviolis she’s sweeping from one side of her plate to the other. "It was one of those days, I guess," I say, avoiding the drawn-out truth about today’s events.
Mom places her fork down on her plate. "Do you hear something?"
I stop chewing to listen. There’s a clanging sound coming from outside. "Sounds like someone’s outside. Maybe someone is shoveling next door."
"I don’t think we’d hear someone shoveling from this far away," Mom says, staring off to the side, appearing to focus on the sound. The nearest house is about an acre away, but when snow is covering the roads, everything echoes a little more.
"I’ll go check," I tell her, placing my fork and knife down.
I peek out the side window next to the front door, spotting a probing light under the hood of Dad’s truck. What in the world? I slip my boots on and grab my coat from the hook. "There’s nothing to worry about, Mom. I’ll be right back."
"Well, who’s out there?" she asks.
Rather than answer, I make it seem like I didn’t hear her as I close the door behind me. "What are you doing?" I call out from the top step.
"Changing your battery," he replies.
I chug down the snow-covered steps and drag my boots through the thick snow. "You don’t have to do this.”
"I told you I would," he replies.
"Where is Parker?" I ask, cupping my hand over my eyes to avoid the glare from his truck’s headlights at the end of the driveway.
"In the truck, playing a game on my phone," he says.
I walk past Brett and up to the driver’s side of his truck. I open the door and welcome the rush of heat spilling out, creating a fog against the cold air. "Parker, do you want to come inside while your dad works on the truck?" I ask her.
She lifts her gaze from the phone and offers me a shy smile. "Okay," she says, climbing over the center console, wearing a royal blue tutu.
"I love that color," I tell her, reaching my arms out to help her down from the truck.
"Me too. It’s one of my favorite colors," she says.
Her boots are shorter than the height of the snow, so I hold her up on my hip. "I’m taking Parker inside," I inform Brett.
Brett flashes his light toward us. "She was okay. The truck is on and heated. I’m right here."
"Well, we’re going to hang out inside instead," I tell him.
Brett doesn’t say anything else before refocusing his flashlight beneath the hood of the truck. "Parker, don’t get yourself into any trouble," he says as we pass by.
Parker giggles. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh. With as well behaved as I have seen her be the few times we’ve met, I can’t imagine why she would need a reminder to behave. I place her down as soon as we step into the house. "He only tells me to behave because he knows I don’t get into much trouble. He’s joking," she says.
"I kind of figured." I help Parker unzip her black down-jacket. "Mom, Brett is outside fixing the battery to Dad’s truck, so I brought Parker inside."
Mom scurries out of the kitchen, blotting her mouth with a napkin even though I don’t think a morsel of food touched her lips since I stepped outside. "Parker Pearson," Mom addresses her. "What a lovely shade of blue you are wearing today."
Parker pinches her lips together and smiles, showing off her deep dimples. "Thank you, Mrs. Quinn," she responds.
"Have you eaten dinner, sweetheart?"
Parker nods her head. "No, Dad and I were planning to get something to eat after he fixed Mr. Quinn’s truck."
"Nonsense. Melody will go tell him you two can eat dinner here. I made plenty of food."
"Uh, Mom," I interrupt. "Before you get her all excited, Brett might have other plans."
"He doesn’t have other plans. Trust me," Parker says.
"I’m going to go check with him before you dish out food," I inform Mom.
"Parker, come into the kitchen. I’ll at least make you a cup of h
ot cocoa while we wait." Mom holds her hand out, and Parker takes the offer, walking into the kitchen with Mom.
Which means, I’m left with no other excuse but to speak to Brett.
I step back out into the arctic air, stomp into the foot-holes I’ve already made in the snow, and stand by the hood of the trunk as he lowers the new battery into its place. "That wasn’t fair … what you did earlier.”
"It wouldn’t be fair if I was stepping in the way of someone else’s life’s plans either," he says.
I open my hands to the side, confused by his comment. "What about my future plans?"
"It sounded like Ace would offer you what you wanted, fixing the reason you left him. I would not stand in the way of you figuring things out with him."
I take another step closer because I don’t want to raise my voice, though my aggravation is threatening to rage from my lungs. "Brett, I don’t love Ace. I haven’t loved him in a long time, and there isn’t a ring in the world, a house, or a child that would bring those feelings back. I realize you don’t know me well at this current moment, but believe me when I say, when I make a decision, it’s because I have already thought it through."
"You said you broke up with him the morning you flew home," Brett reminds me.
"I had been trying to muster the courage to leave him for over a year until the day I left. I basically wrote out my future in permanent marker the day I talked to my dad and found out what was going happening. I didn’t need the courage to run home to the people I love, and I no longer needed to find the courage to leave behind the person who couldn’t care less about the pain I was in. Maybe Ace deserved more closure from me, but it wasn’t a priority at the time."
"The guy loves you," Brett says, screwing a cap onto a part he’s replacing.
"Well, unfortunately for him, the feeling is not mutual, nor will it ever be again. I made the point clear today."
Brett appears to complete the installation and unhooks the hood-prop, allowing the metal to fall into place. He points his flashlight toward me. "What if I’m just a rebound to fill the gap in your life?"
"To fill the gap of someone who treated me like a housemaid?" I question.
"No, that’s not what I mean," he says.
"You know, I could understand your question if we didn’t have a past, but I liked you all those years ago, crushed over you, dreamt about you, and wondered if I’d ever see you again until I didn’t. Therefore, calling this ... whatever this is or could have been ... is not a rebound, it’s more like a homecoming."
"A homecoming?" he questions.
"Brett, you know what sucks about your first kiss being the best kiss of all kisses to follow? I have always needed to live, knowing I was missing out on having something more. I figured it was something I would have to get over and somehow settle from less."
"Someone might be better than me out there, Mel. What if that’s the case?"
"There could be, but I’m not looking for better."
"Wouldn’t some call that settling?"
"Settling for the best of what I’ve always known—why would someone keep on looking?" I ask him.
I can’t see him well with his flashlight aimed in my direction, so I’m wondering what emotions are playing through his face, or if he’s hiding behind the light so I can’t read him. "Mel, look, I’m not good at being the best. Hell, most days, I feel like I’m living below par, and I don’t want to make anyone else feel the same way. My life will never be normal and going by some of the reasons you fell out of love with Ace, you should be out there searching for your version of normal—a husband, a baby; a perfect life."
"That is what I wanted and most of what I still want, but watching my dad lose his say in life, made me realize I need to stop planning and just start living. Despite that notion, I no longer wanted to cohabitate with Ace. There was no spark, butterflies, or days when I couldn’t wait for him to get home from work. It was convenient knowing I didn’t have to be single, but after a while, I came to terms with my reality. I can be with someone and still feel like a single person; lonely, and unhappy."
"It sounds like you’ve lived a lot of life this past month," Brett says, his flashlight growing brighter. I startle when his hand reaches for my elbow because I didn’t realize we were standing so close. "The last thing I want to do is pull you into the unknown with me and steer you farther away from whatever it is you want in life."
"All I want is happiness," I explain. "I want to live the kind of life my dad led. Watching him made me want the same for myself. However, I will find fulfillment, and I will find it the right way."
Brett wraps his arms around me and pulls me in against his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. "I’m sorry for earlier—making you face what you had run away from. It was none of my business. He had called the shop and asked to meet with me for other reasons. I didn’t know what was going on before you told me who he was."
I release a pent-up breath, wanting to put the memories from earlier today behind me. "Let’s forget about it.”
"It’s freezing out here," he says.
"And my Mom is probably feeding Parker a four-course meal while we freeze."
"Crap, did she say she was hungry?" Brett asks, lifting his chin from my head.
"No, my mom asked if she had eaten, and when she said no, my mom invited you both to eat with us. I was supposed to come outside and ask you if it was okay."
"You didn’t ask me, though," Brett says.
"Would you two like to eat at our house tonight?" I try to add a hint of formality to the question, given the way he requested an invitation.
Brett’s gloved hand cups around the base of my neck, and he leans down to kiss me. His lips are colder than ice, and my skin tingles against the sharp stubble on his chin. "Thank you for the offer," he mutters against my lips. Brett pulls away, and I hear him reach down to collect whatever tools he had.
"Come on in.” I wave him toward me, but unsure if he can see as his flashlight is bouncing all over the place.
I take a few steps toward the house before a snowball explodes against my ponytail. I gasp and freeze in place from shock, but growing up where it’s winter six months of the year, I’m quick with my recoil and chuck a snowball into the dark. "Nope, sorry," he says.
"You have an unfair advantage," I shriek, dashing toward the front steps, but not without grabbing another handful of snow first.
As Brett lifts his foot to follow me up the steps, I hit my target with perfect aim, thanks to the light above the front door. Brett covers his hands over his chest, where I hit him. "Ugh, you got me," he says.
“Well, it doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.”
Brett slaps at my ponytail and snow flies all over the entryway doormat as we walk inside. "Sorry," he says with laughter.
"Mmhm. They would love to eat with us, Mom," I shout into the kitchen.
Parker walks out of the kitchen with slow steps, concentrating on the contents inside of the mug she’s holding. "They even have hot chocolate with real marshmallows, not the fake kind that already comes in the bag like what we have at home."
"See how much I’m failing?" Brett asks me, pointing at the mug. "I don’t even get my daughter the right marshmallows."
"You should be careful. Someone might report you to the authorities." I wave my hand to shoo him off as I hang up coat up and remove my boots.
"Brett, thank you so much for fixing the battery in the truck. How much do I owe you?" Mom asks him.
Brett pulls his snow-covered coat off and hangs it on the doorknob above the floor-mat. "Oh, please, don’t even worry about it. It’s no problem at all."
"Well, I’m sure it cost you something," Mom continues.
"And you’ve offered me and Parker dinner, so we can call it even. Thank you," he says, walking over to her with his arms open wide to give her a hug. "How are you doing today?"
Mom sighs. "Every day is a little different. Today, I’m hanging in there."
My heart skips a beat when I see the compassion Brett shares for others, especially Mom. We haven’t let anyone into this house in weeks, and he isn’t taking it for granted.
Mom has already set the table for the four. "I warmed up our plates, Melody.”
"Please, sit down, eat, make yourselves full," Mom says.
Brett pulls a chair out for Parker then pushes her in closer to the table. "What do you say?"
"She has already thanked me several times," Mom tells Brett. "She has very polite manners for such a young lady."
He’s not messing up this parenting thing at all. I’d say he’s nailing it. I’m not sure I could step in and pick up pieces the way he has and carry on as if this little girl is his life’s mission.
"So, do you think your mother would be upset if I stole Miss Parker for a night to bake some cookies?" Mom asks Brett.
Brett swallows a mouthful and holds a napkin up to his mouth before responding. "My mom is busy on Monday and Wednesdays with some volunteer work she does for the town, so either of those nights would work out just fine," Brett says. "As a matter-of-fact, Parker’s school has a bake sale on Thursday night, and they need cookies."
Mom claps her hands together with excitement. "That sounds wonderful. Are you sure your mom won’t mind? I don’t want to step on her grandma toes."
Brett shakes his head dismissively. "Absolutely not. She’d be happy to share her grandma duties."
Mom looks thrilled about the idea of baking for a cause. "Okay, but only if you and Melody go out on a—" Mom cups her hand to the side of her mouth, so Parker doesn’t see what she’s saying. "D-A-T-E."
"Mom!" I respond with a snap to my voice.
"It’s a deal," Brett tells Mom, ignoring my response.
"Well then, I am free on Wednesday to make cookies with this cutie pie," Mom says.
"I’m free, too," Parker responds with a giddy smirk.
I’m staring at mom, waiting for her to catch the glimpse I’m giving her, but she ignores my face as she looks between Brett and Parker, beaming with a kind of joy I haven’t seen on her face in a very long time.
Bourbon Love Notes Page 19
