Incompatibly Yours: Charity Anthology Supporting Fertility Research

by A. C. Bextor

"He never had a thing for me."

  Turning to me now with eyes sharp as a steel blade, he spits, "You damn well know he did."

  I'm shocked. Maybe Myles took my friendship with Chase as a kid to mean more than what it was. Surely even Myles saw how Chase cut me out of his life completely when he became obsessed with every other girl he started to see.

  To my further surprise, Myles adds, "Chase didn't deny it."

  My breathing seizes as I turn away from him and take my time looking at the kids laughing and playing in front of us.

  Powering through, I question, "What else is on your mind? We haven't talked in weeks, so I know there's more."

  Looking down at his feet and pushing a rock with his black loafer, he asks, "Ry, do you still want to marry me?"

  This question, just as his statement before it, comes from nowhere. I've given thought to cold feet, going so far as to think about Chase in a way I shouldn't, but so far Myles hasn't shown a shadow of doubt.

  "Do you still want to marry me?"

  Myles turns his entire body toward mine and grabs my arms. He pulls me to him and kisses my lips gently before looking down and smiling the way I've always loved.

  "Yes."

  "Then yes, I do. I think—" I'm cut off when his front pocket vibrates with an incoming call.

  Looking down at his cell, he explains, "I have to take this."

  I grab his wrist to stop him answering. "Don't. We were spending the day together, remember? I haven't seen you—"

  Cutting me off again, he lifts the phone to his ear and smiles wide, but not at me. I hear one of his buddies on the other end talking about plans they have set for the evening.

  Myles and I had plans this evening, too. But from the way he's talking into the phone, I'm guessing those are all but canceled.

  When I picked Myles up this morning, he looked worse for wear. His eyes were sunken with bags underneath. His skin was pale, maybe a little green, and he was uncharacteristically quiet. I assumed his discreet mood was for my benefit, as though he were holding in his hangover to not ruin our day.

  Instead, I realize that with me isn't where he'd rather be.

  Mindlessly, I turn the other way to look around. It's a beautiful, albeit hot day in our small town and there're a lot of things we could've been doing. Rather than go for a country drive, fishing, or even to visit and catch up with old friends, he brought me here to question our commitment.

  Something's off. Completely. But not only for him.

  "I need to go. Jeff's set up a poker game for us tonight."

  "Us?"

  Rolling his eyes and looking annoyed, he replies, "Come on, Ry. You know what I mean. The guys are glad we're home."

  "Obviously," I mumble.

  Sensing my disappointment, he offers, "I'll make it up to you."

  "You don't have to promise me that. Just don't go to them. Stay here and finish our day."

  "Here we go," he mumbles, running his hand through the back of his hair. "We weren't doing anything anyway, right?"

  "Sure, of course," I concede. It's easier than arguing, which isn't what I want us doing considering we're getting married in a few weeks. Straightening my face and masking my disappointment at being left alone again, I give him the out his eyes are so desperately pleading for. "Go with your friends, Myles. We'll catch up tomorrow. It's okay."

  "You're sure?" he asks, his eyebrows raised to meet his overgrown hair.

  Sighing, I put on a fake smile and say, "Yeah. I'll find something to do."

  He wraps both arms around me tightly before squeezing me so hard I feel my bones creak. When he pulls back, his smile is contagious. His mouth hits mine in a hard, crushing kiss before he declares, "Swear to you, Ry. I'll make it up."

  "There's a lot to make up for. Careful what you promise."

  "I got this." He smiles again before taking my hand for the first time today and leading me back to the car.

  ★★★

  An hour later, I'm sitting in my mom's kitchen watching her cook dinner. We've always lived in Iowa and although steak and potatoes are considered staples of Midwest living, they're also still Dad's favorite.

  She's humming to herself as she stands near the counter peeling potatoes. She's always seemed not only content, but happy in being with Dad. They've been married twenty-six years and together twenty-nine. Our family's happiness is something I've always been proud of.

  "Have you seen my phone?" my little sister Maggie comes traipsing through the kitchen, grabbing random items from the counters as she announces her presence in a panic. "I've looked, like, everywhere. I seriously can't find it this time."

  "Check the bathroom, honey," Mom advises without looking up. "You had it with you before your last makeup-in-the-mirror check."

  Physically, my sister is the spitting image of me. She's average height, lean, and blonde. The difference between us is that she's also boisterous and fun. I've always admired her for her ability not to care what others think as long as she stays true to herself. And so far, she has.

  "Where are you rushing off to?" I test, hoping like anything I'm about to catch her in a lie in front of our mom. Lord knows she's done the same to me for years. It's payback.

  When Maggie doesn't answer, Mom catches the stilted silence and stops peeling potatoes. She turns her back to the pot in front of her and sighs. "Good question," she puts in, looking Maggie up and down and seeing what I do.

  Mags is dressed abnormally well for a Thursday night.

  Maggie quickly turns to me and narrows her eyes. It wouldn't shock me if she stuck her tongue out, but she doesn't. She hesitates first then bites her bottom lip. Oh yes, my little sister is plotting.

  "Mags?" Mom prods. "I'd like an answer now, please."

  "Don't freak out," my sister starts, bracing her arms in front of her to placate. Now it's me sucking in my lip, but not from worry but to keep from laughing. "Tyler asked if I could go horseback riding with him and Jamison."

  Mom puts down the knife, rests her back against the kitchen counter, and brings her lecturing voice out of wherever she's always been able to keep it hidden, "And you didn't think to ask your father or me? Honey, Tyler is—"

  "Older than me! I know this," Maggie cries. "But Dad knows his dad and you know his mom and Tyler and me are friends."

  "Friends," Mom repeats, her tone low and knowing. If I'm not mistaken, this conversation just took an interesting turn.

  When Maggie looks to me for backup, I sit further up in my chair. "Don't look at me, buddy. I'm engaged to be married and haven't seen my-soon-to-be for over a week. I have no advice here."

  Stomping her foot, Maggie raises her voice. "Yes you do! Tell Mom it's okay. Tell her you and Chase used to—"

  Whoa.

  And no.

  "Not another word, Maggie Ryan." When my sister shrinks in place, Mom looks at me and winks. "What time do you suppose you'll be home from riding?"

  "What?" I shriek. "Mom! He's older, as in he's twenty-six. Maggie's…."

  Mom halts my argument by holding her hand up, her focus on my sister.

  Maggie starts to negotiate. I'm almost impressed. "By eleven, how's that? I'll cut my curfew by an hour if you let me go."

  "Eleven," Mom contemplates. "Find your phone and make it ten thirty."

  "Yes!" Mag exclaims, jumping in place with a smile as I sit at the table and stew.

  My sister runs through every room in search of said phone while my mother and I look at each other in challenge.

  "You're kidding," I whisper, looking out the kitchen door for Maggie. "Mom, tell me you're—"

  Holding up her hand again, something Mom's been known to do, she shushes me with, "In a minute, Ry. Not yet."

  Sitting back in my chair, I grab my iced tea and take a healthy drink. I'm in such shock I don't even know what to think. Tyler has nine years on my sister. I'm not surprised she brought Chase into this, but Chase and I didn't have a relationship when I was seventeen and he was twenty-four
. He'd ended it before then.

  "Okay, I'm out," Maggie announces, kissing Mom on the cheek then coming at me for the same. I let her kiss the top of my head as I continue to pout. Maggie whispers, "See ya, sis. Don't get crazy all alone again tonight."

  I've never laid a hand on my sister, but if Mom weren't staring at me with such intensity, I'd consider it.

  Once the front door closes behind her, my mom moves from the counter and takes her apron off. She sits across the table from me and studies her hands.

  "This conversation is going to hurt me somehow, isn't it?"

  Mom's eyes come to mine and I notice they're now swimming in tears.

  What'd I miss?

  "Mom? What is it? Are you and Dad…?"

  "You don't have children, girls especially," she starts, her voice sounding reflective. "So when I say this to you, please don't disregard it because you think I'm saying this only because I'm your mother."

  "Okay, but I don't understand."

  "I'm not talking to you now as a parent who loves and wants only good things for her child," she continues. "I'm telling you this as a woman, a friend, and someone who's been lucky enough to find love in the most unexpected places."

  "Mom, you're scaring me."

  "You don't love him," she states plainly, shaking me to my very core. "You don't in any real sense, anyway. You've been different since the engagement and I think you already know why I say this."

  My eyes water.

  There's something terribly unsettling about your mother, the woman you've counted on for guidance and understanding all your life, calling you out in matters of the heart and doing it without warning.

  "I do love him," I whisper. "Mom, I do."

  "You may love him because you're comfortable with him, but honey…."

  I swipe a tear from my cheek, so she stops talking long enough to really look at me, but this time as my mother.

  "Any man would be lucky to have you." She tsks, picking at the kitchen towel in front of her. "I don't want you to regret getting married because it's what you think your father and I want."

  Changing the subject, I ask, "What does this have to do with Maggie going out to meet Tyler McClain?"

  "Your father is older than me," she says, telling me what I already know. "By a lot."

  "Yeah, so you want Mags to do what? The same?"

  "My parents didn't approve of our relationship at first. Once they got to know him, saw he was good and treated me well, they grew to love him."

  "Grandpa didn't like Dad?" I ask, this being news to me.

  "I want both my girls to find the man who loves them, challenges them, makes them think about what it is they truly want, and be there for them whenever it's needed. It may sound unconventional these days, but it's true. And if said man is willing to give me grandbabies to love then that's a bonus I'll happily accept."

  "Mom—"

  "Chase Morgan changed when you left," she says.

  With those words, I don't have to force my eyes to close. Mom likes Chase, she always did. Hell, anyone who knows him thinks a lot of him. He's hardworking, caring to those he's closest to, and would offer you the shirt off his back if you genuinely needed it.

  But my mom's not done. "You've loved that one man your whole life, Ryleigh. Why did you stop?"

  At this point, with all the shock and uncertainty lying between us, open and exposed, I can't find it in me to answer. Telling her how much he hurt me by pushing me away doesn't sound like a topic I'd like to dissect at the moment. Instead, I'd prefer getting out of here and finding myself a drink.

  A strong one.

  "I love you, Mom, but I need to go."

  Nodding once, she stands. Once I take my eyes from hers, she walks toward me and looks down with the same familiar blue eyes I inherited from her. Her hand squeezes my chin as the other moves the hair from my face and settles it behind my ear.

  "If your father had to spend a single night away from me because our parents were keeping us from each other as we are you and Myles, he'd be at my door at dawn the next morning, if only to see my face."

  "Times have changed, Mom. Men aren't like that anymore."

  "Aren't they?" she questions. "Feelings and acts of love don't change, honey. Love is timeless. And acting on that love is instinct."

  I swallow hard as she continues to hold me to her. "I get it."

  She finishes her point without allowing my escape. "How has Myles managed to stay away from the one person he claims so much to love?"

  Chapter Six

  CHASE

  "Not now, Cam," I hiss, attempting to shut her whiny ass down long enough for her to actually hear my refusal. I don't want to go back to her place and relax or go out to get a bite to eat.

  I don't want to see her anymore.

  Ever.

  "This is about her, isn't it?" Camille snaps loudly, gaining the attention of nearly every patron in the bar. "She's…," she stutters. "She's a mouse!"

  "Oh, hell," Dave utters, sitting at my side and trying his best to stay quiet. So far, he's been successful, but losing his patience he advises, "Woman, callin' Ryleigh Davis any kind of name will get your ass beat red."

  "Cam." I turn in my chair to see her still standing behind me, even though I've dismissed her at least four times since she arrived. "Shut your shit down."

  "Right," she says. "Shut my shit down. You weren't saying that when—"

  Obviously Dave knows where this is going, and fast, so he chimes in again with, "Cam, before making a fool of yourself, why don't you head left and keep walking." He points to the door and she's dense enough to look.

  Christ, was she always this shallow and stupid?

  "You'll regret this," she spouts, grabbing her purse from the bar.

  I don't react or play into her tantrum, but Dave's like a dog with a bone and using this as entertainment. "Thinkin' he already regrets it, sweet cheeks. Now get gone."

  "Holy hell, what'd I miss?" the red-haired bartender, Jessie, questions as she props her tall, lean body in front of Dave.

  "Yeah, me too. What’d I miss?" a familiar female voice behind me inquires. "'Cause if you're talking about your friend, Cam, I think her name was, leaving in such a hurry, there's not a lot to talk about."

  At the same time, Dave and I turn on our barstools and watch as a smiling Ryleigh bounces in and slams her purse beside me on the bar.

  "Well?" she prods. "Where's she off to?"

  Dave speaks first. "Your boy here gave Cam the heave-ho."

  "He so did and it was awesome!" Jessie puts in next.

  Finally, in order to settle the crowd, I add, "It wasn't that dramatic."

  "Sounds like it." Ryleigh smiles. "I'm sorry I missed it."

  "What are you doin' here?" I'm guessing by the red streaks beneath her eyes that my brother has at the very least disappointed her. I can't think to what degree without letting on I'm pissed, so I ask, "You want a beer?"

  "No," she replies quickly, but looks around me and Dave to Jessie. "Can I get a shot?"

  Jessie's eyebrows lift and she smiles. "Absolutely. What'll ya have?"

  "Um." Ryleigh hesitates, seemingly not having a clue what she's asked for. "I'm not sure?"

  Dave busts out in a laugh and he doesn't hide it, but then offers, "Grab her a shot of tequila." He throws down a twenty-dollar bill, before telling Jesse, "And it's on me."

  "Thank you," Ry tells him, pulling out the stool and getting comfortable in the chair next to mine. Her arm brushes my elbow and when I turn to look at her, she's still grinning.

  "So, where'd Cammypants run off to in such a hurry?" she questions, giving Cam a nickname I love but she'd hate.

  "God knows," Dave utters, sucking back the last of his beer. "Good riddance, though."

  After Jessie's brought the shot, and Ryleigh's sucked it down without waiting for us to explain the need for salt and lime, Dave slaps the back of my shoulder. "I gotta run." Bending slightly so only I can hear him speak, he finis
hes, "Don't do anything stupid."

  Pulling back and sending him a hard glare, I snap, "What the hell?"

  Dave smiles and it's not one I trust. "And by stupid, I mean don't mess this up."

  "Bye, Dave," Ryleigh says to him. She must've heard what he said because now she's grinning like a one-shot-is-too-much fool.

  "Later, Ryleigh."

  "I've always liked him," she states as he walks away. Lifting her hand to get Jessie's attention she asks, "Can I have another one of those?"

  "Wait." I raise my finger to stop Jess from starting the shot. Turning in my seat, I ask, "You know what you're doin', Ry?"

  Shaking her head, she admits, "Nope. But I feel better than I did when I walked in here, so I'm thinking I could use another."

  Shaking my own head with exasperation, I look to Jess. "One more, then she's done."

  "What?" Ryleigh cries. "You can't cut me off!"

  "Not my intention. Finish your shot. We're leavin'."

  Her face scrunches. "What? Why?"

  "I brought the truck. Cam's gone. The bar's dead. We'll pick up some beer and take a drive."

  Her eyebrows wiggle in jest. "Can I drive?"

  Still and forever the answer is, "No. Now can we go?"

  "Cancel the shot," she tells Jess, pushing the lime and salt away. "Let's go."

  Chapter Seven

  RYLEIGH

  "You're ridiculous," I accuse before I laugh aloud, listening to Chase reenact his version of me as a kid following him around the fields. "I didn't talk to all the animals like that. Maybe just the pretty ones."

  As he comes off his own chuckle, his hand grabs then shakes my wrist. The playful banter has been fun.

  "You did, Ry. Those poor horses had no choice but to listen to you explaining to them where they came from." Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he continues, "And Jesus Christ, neither did I."

  We're hanging out in the bed of his big red truck. Chase is sitting with his back to the side as I'm seated next to him, facing the open tailgate.

  As he drove us out into the middle of nowhere, he didn't ask about where Myles had run off to or why I looked upset in the bar earlier. I know he saw the disappointment on my face, but being the gentleman he's always been, he gave me an out and didn't probe further. Between being dissed by my fiancé then having an unexpected heart-to-heart with Mom, I'm relieved he didn't push. Since being with him, I haven't thought of either instance at all.