“Good,” Gus interrupted. “Because I didn’t do it for that,” Gus declared as she sucked back her tears. Real lady-like, Augusta, she heard her mother’s disapproving voice in her head. Yep, hormones. God, I hate ‘em.
“I hope you hold to that as we give you this. It is NOT payment. It’s just…I can only explain it as overflowing with love. I, we, are so full of love, we are bursting. We want to share that love with you, and the only way I can begin to do that is this.” He gathered the envelope off the floor.
“If you don’t want it, it will break my heart, but it is yours, and there’s nothing you can do about that now but sell it. We love you, and we want you to be happy and, short of dragging John naked to the altar, this is the next best way we could think of.”
With jittery hands, Gus unwound the red thread and slid a pile of papers out of the top. Sure enough, there was her signature, along with ones she didn’t recognize. It was a purchase agreement of some sort, but she couldn’t read it, the words were blurred. “What is this?”
“It’s fifteen thousand square feet of whatever you want it to be. The property is on the edge of town. The contractor has been paid and is just awaiting your renovation instructions. You can open a gym and teach martial arts, get back to your roots if that’s what you want. Or, you could open an alternative therapy retreat; you always seem happiest when you’re helping people. Hell, Augusta, you can leave it open and let John build a damn plane in there, if it makes you happy. And if you decided to be stubborn and do nothing, then just leave the doors open and punks will show up with skateboards.”
Gus was taken aback. More than that, blown away was more like it. Andy sounded so passionate about gifting it to her, how could she say no? She should. Like her mother says, a lady sends the wrong message if she accepts large gifts from men. But her mother didn’t know Andy, she didn’t know Gus, and she didn’t know what was best for Jan. In short, her mother didn’t know squat.
It was the most generous thing anyone had even done for her, and it honestly seemed to make Andy ecstatic to give it. She threw herself into his arms and let her hug speak for her.
An orderly burst through the door with a wheelchair. “Your chariot awaits.” Gus released her hold on Andy.
“You’re the best, you know that,” she said while she sat and Marco lifted the baby into her arms.
Both men kissed her cheeks. Andy whispered, “No, Pixie, that would be you.”
John didn’t remember ever being this nervous before. But then again, he had never felt such a burning desire to make another person happy for the sole purpose of seeing them smile.
He waited for the out of control feeling to come, but it didn’t. It felt like a freedom he had never experienced before. It was ironic, finding freedom in getting tied up in a relationship—freedom to be himself, even if that wasn’t a claimer or flirt or a cupcake.
Augusta doesn’t need me to slap her ass and kiss her silly in front of everyone, as long I do behind closed doors, she’ll know she is loved. The realization that love didn’t have to look like gooey-eyed Hugh Grant on the big screen was a relief. If Augusta was right for him, and he thought just maybe she was, he would be enough.
They had been friends for what seemed like a lifetime. Augusta knew him better than everyone alive except Stacy. And, now, she’d said she loved him, even after he made love to her, so it’s not like she doesn’t know who he is as a lover, too.
A sliver of doubt crept in. Maybe she didn’t really know what she was in for. He had dialed his desires back because of her pregnancy. Would his intensity in the bedroom scare her? A knock at the door derailed his train of thought.
“I’ll get it.” January bounced to the door, humming an infectious tune the whole way. John had heard it before but couldn’t put his finger on it. He started humming it too, hoping it would come to him eventually. It would drive him nuts until he grasped it.
His light mood didn’t last long. The voice at the door grated on his nerves. Jimmy or Jerry or something. “Hi, I’m Jesse.”
Jesse, that was it.
“I know Augusta isn’t home yet, I’m actually on my way to drop off some paperwork to her. Anyway, here.” John heard him rambling and wanted to see what “here” meant. Maybe, just maybe, a bit of him was a claimer. Because he also wanted to let Jesse know his “here” wasn’t needed.
“Oh,” he heard January say, like he had handed her a twenty-pound bag of potatoes. John came around the open door to find the biggest vase of flowers he had ever seen. Poor January struggled under the weight.
“Those are for Augusta.” The uh sound died on his lips when John hoisted the monstrosity from January, and Jesse noticed him. He swallowed so hard, John had to wonder if he sucked back a few of his molars. John puffed up. January backhanded his chest. Good, if she noticed, so did Jesse.
John was stunned and a little ashamed of his own behavior. Here he was, acting like a chump and trying to intimidate a kid half his age. Properly scolded, by himself and Augusta’s little sister, he turned and took the flowers to the counter. They were obnoxious; the kid must have spent three hundred dollars or more. The card caught John’s eye. Glancing toward the door and seeing January still chatting with the little asshole, John made a choice—one he would have never expected to make in a million years. He snatched the card from the spike and pulled it from the miniature envelope.
Dearest Augusta,
I had a lovely evening with you, and when you’re ready, I anxiously await the pleasure of your company.
Spending time with you is my newest obsession…but not in a creeper way.
Yours,
Jesse
January came up behind him tsking. “Well, look at that.” John spun, trying to hide the card like she didn’t already know. “What do you have there, big guy?” Her arms were folded and eyebrows raised.
Screw it, he brandished the card her way. “Who writes like this? What year does that punk think this is?” He was flustered, so before he could ask any more stupid questions, he settled on the one he really needed an answer to. “Is this what Augusta wants? A guy who sends her a half a week’s pay of flowers? Who writes sappy shit on a card? Borderline creepy, but sappy.”
Resolved, John returned the card to its envelope and to the spike in the center of the arrangement. He turned back and spoke from a place of defeat. “I can’t be like him, January. I don’t do syrupy cards or flowery words. She’ll never get a metric ass-ton of petals or sonnets about her beauty from me.” John glanced at the refrigerator where the bouquet he got her sat. It was nowhere near as big and consisted of pineapple and strawberries and other fruits that she liked.
“What she’ll get from me is a private pilot who lives paycheck to paycheck. Who isn’t big on public displays. A man who is a hell of a lot older than that guy and way more jaded. What if that’s not enough? Augusta deserves to be with someone who will do that for her, and that’s not me.”
For someone who was riding high earlier, he sure felt low now. Like a Frank Sinatra song. He needed to think and couldn’t do that looking at Jesse’s flowers, taunting him with everything he’s not. More than anything, he hated the insecurity; it went hand and hand with control.
John had always been a self-assured person, some might have gone as far as to call him cocky, but right now, he felt neither of those things, and he hated it. He hated questioning what Augusta needed, and he hated himself a bit too. This is exactly why control is important. People in control do not act untried, unsure…unmanly. “Oh, my Lord, now I’m questioning ridiculous shit.”
“Excuse me?” Thank the stars she hadn’t heard him at the most indecisive moment in his life.
“I’ll just finish up here, then head next door to get everything flowing. After that, well, I think I’ll let Augusta settle in tonight. Maybe call her tomorrow.”
January seemed genuinely shocked. “Wow, after everything Augusta told me, I never expected that. Then after meeting you, I damn sure didn’t,
but here you are, running away. The stoic and quietly commanding John, afraid of some roses and a kid who still remembers what his mom’s snatch smells like.”
“It’s not like that. It’s just…I want Augusta to have what she wants, who she deserves. She should have a man who will look at her like she outshines the stars then put that into words and proclaim it to the heavens because she does. She needs—”
“Okay, let me just stop you right there. You sound like an expert on what she wants.”
“Maybe I am.” Was that response childish? Yes, it was. Did he give a shit? No, he didn’t.
“Then by your own admission, wouldn’t an expert be the right choice for the job, hmm?” It was getting increasingly hard to argue about it.
“Just because I know, doesn’t mean I can be.”
“Oh really, so if I could prove to you what she wanted was in fact you, warts and all, or plain words and fruit bouquets, would you stop acting younger than that Jesse fella? Give my sister a chance at happiness, with you?”
John simply shrugged an agreement.
“All right then, come with me.” She led him to her bedroom and opened her laptop. When John followed her unspoken command to sit, she logged on to her social media site and entered a group. He noticed Augusta’s face with the play triangle in front of it.
January scrawled something on a sticky note and handed it to him. “I suggest you start with these six videos. If you want to watch the others, you can, but I think these will make my point. I’ll work on dinner while you do that.”
Five minutes or more passed as he sat staring at the triangle in front of her smiling face. It felt a little like invasion to push play, but he reasoned with himself since these were online, it wasn’t like they were private.
Once he could rationalize it, he pushed play on the video. Her voice buoyed his heart, and her face lit up the room. There was a subtle sadness to her at first, but when she spoke of their date, even as crappy as it had ended, the sadness lifted. Her eyes sparkled with what he could only call love.
She described their dinner as if it was the most magical night of her life. She spoke of how she knew the date would end badly between them, but she savored the steps from the car to the house. Questions and comments popped up with times beside them, and Augusta answered. Her voice was puzzlingly sad and upbeat, and while he could tell her heart was bruised, she encouraged others to chase love.
She is too good for me.
He pushed play on the next one on the list and so on and so on. Each video was more honest than the last. Augusta was unbent, unbroken through it all. Not only that, she was worried more about helping others than herself.
When she spoke of him, it was like she saw through to parts of him he had convinced himself no one noticed, no one knew.
No one could love…or desire.
John was not a man to cry, but he most certainly had something in his eyes right about now
He was more convinced than ever that she was too good for him, but he was also more determined not to give a shit.
After signing off January’s account, he closed her laptop and sought her out on the kitchen. Not only was he looking at himself and Augusta differently, he saw January a little differently too. She was basically a shorter—if that were even possible—less snarky Stacy. From this day forward, she was his little sister, too.
A loner by nature had just gained a new family practically overnight. The tiny blonde he sought was stirring a bubbling pot on the stove. It smelled like jambalaya. When she took a step back, John caught her in an embrace and swung her around the kitchen, just like he used to do with Stacy, and just like Stacy, she squirmed. “Put me down, you big galoot.”
When he complied, she returned to cooking. “So, I take it I’ve made my point, or rather, Augusta did.”
“Yes, and I thank you.”
“You can thank me with the new summer Coach beach tote, if you really wanted to show your appreciation.”
John had a great laugh. “You will fit in just fine around here. I better get to work”
After he finished up with what needed to be done at Augusta’s, he headed next door to tweak the fine details.
I’ve never been so happy to see that familiar chipped paint and crooked shutter. I can’t wait to get inside and see what surprise John has waiting for me.
It was a fuss all the way to the door—who would carry Cephina, who would open the door for Augusta. It was like dealing with five-year-olds arguing over what to play at recess.
Jan burst through the door and almost tackled Gus, leaving it open behind her. “Umph. Well, at least that solves one problem, fellas. I’m going inside, y’all can join me or continue to fuss over who gets to do what.”
Gus was thrilled to have her sister, but a twinge of disappointment stained her homecoming. Where was John? When she broke the plane of the threshold, she was welcomed by the scent of sausage and spice. “Mmmm, jambalaya?”
“Yep, but it’s spicy as fuck.”
“Jan,” Gus scolded. Jan didn’t look the least bit sorry and ignored Gus’ interruption.
“Might be too spicy for you. Not sure how, you know, how things are moving along. So, I have a pussy version in the small pot and some plain buttered rice if that’s what is called for. Plus…”
Before Jan could finish, Gus noticed the biggest arrangement of flowers she’d ever laid her eyes on. So many, in fact, that as she entered the kitchen, they overpowered the scent of the jambalaya.
Appreciation and disappointment bloomed in her heart. While she appreciated the gesture, and the obvious investment, this was not like John at all. It was sad that he felt the need to try to be someone he wasn’t. A touch of that disappointment sat in the realization that he didn’t know her as well as she thought either. It’s not that she hated cut flowers, they were beautiful, it’s just, she’d rather them be left to grow and flower again.
Gus felt that cut flowers were a waste of money and beauty. Why someone would want to possess such beauty for a short time, when they can appreciate it every year when it blooms, was beyond her. Give her a bush of roses over a bouquet any day.
Still, John had made the investment, she could at least read the card. She reached for the card, removed it from its envelope, and began to read. This is so unlike John. She let her sadness overtake her as he thanked her for a wonderful evening, making her feel a little slimy about the whole thing.
She continued to read.
Finally, the signature line sunk in. “Oh, thank God, they’re from Jesse.” She was so happy they weren’t from John, she must’ve spoken aloud.
“Wow, so you really like him. I think he’s the good sort, that’s why I set you up, but I didn’t think much would come from it because I thought you were truly in love with John.” Augusta spun to see Andy deposit Cephina in the bassinette, which they had wheeled into the living room. It was mobile, so it could go anywhere around the house, for when the baby needed to be here during the transition.
Seeing Cephina here, in her home, helped the reality sink in. This was not as cut and dry emotionally as she expected. Lucky for her, Andy planned, expecting as much. While she didn’t think of Cephina as hers, she had given birth to her, so there was a special connection.
Augusta was so lost in thoughts of transitioning Cephina to their house full-time, her silence spoke lies. Andy took her in his arms and apologized, “I am so sorry, Pixie, I was way off the mark. I thought, well, it doesn’t matter, I can fix this. John’s a mature adult and will handle it with dignity when I send him packing. I don’t know how I could have misread the situation so poorly.”
Shoving Andy away, Gus took a few minutes to try to understand why he wanted to send John…
“Oh, that?” Gus tossed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the monstrosity of dying blooms. “That wasn’t because I’m gaga over Jesse, that was because I thought they were from John.” Andy seemed puzzled, but Marco stepped in.
“She was d
isappointed in silver fox because she thought he was basic as fuck and didn’t know a thing about her.” Marco slapped Andy’s bicep with the back of his hand as he passed. “Why do you think we always send her a potted plant for special occasions instead of an arrangement?”
Jan and Gus simultaneously dropped their jaws at Andy, who still looked clueless. Marco took the lid from the pot and waved his hand into the steam. “Girl, this smells amazing, you better cough up the recipe,” he ordered Jan.
January came up to Andy and patted his chest. The sight was rather comical, considering she had to reach up to do so. “Don’t worry, handsome, it’ll come to you. Should we show her the surprise so we can eat? I’m starving?”
Everyone had a good laugh at Andy’s expense. Their amusement deepened when it appeared he realized that by not knowing that detail, Marco had basically dimed him out for not picking out gifts.
Andy asked, “Where’s John?”
Jan was leading them toward Gus’ room, motioning for them to hurry up the whole way. “He’s next door, tweaking shit, but everything is functional.”
When they got to her room, they all stood staring at her television like it was something new. “I don’t get it? Where’s my surprise?”
“Let’s see.” Andy grabbed two remotes from her dresser—one she recognized, one she did not—and started punching buttons. The TV powered on to the last channel she watched.
“Why am I not surprised?” January joked at the site of Animal Planet. Gus just shrugged.
The screen went fuzzy, then black as Andy punched more buttons. “Ah-ha,” he proclaimed as John’s face filled the screen. It only took a minute for Gus to identify what, or rather where, she was seeing. She turned her questioning gaze toward the two men staring back at her.
“It’s closed circuit, direct to the little angel’s crib.” Gus glanced back at the screen. Sure enough. If you looked past John staring straight up at them from a ladder, you could see the crib slid out of the way to accommodate what he was doing.
Inevitably Yours (Imagine Ink Book 4) Page 19
