When You Make It Home

by Claire Ashby

  My mouth fell open. “Oh… you think I think…” My voice quivered, so I stopped and tried another tactic. “I don’t…” More quivers. I forced out the only response I could manage. “Whatever.” I snatched my heels off the floor, ready to go home.

  “Wait. What are you doing?” Theo scrubbed his hand over his face. “Don’t go.” His tone softened. “I shouldn’t be alone right now.” He was giving me those big, puppy-dog eyes, but I could see his smirk.

  “What? Now you want me to stay?” No more quivering. The words flowed when the focus was on him. “What’s with you?” I itched to make a run for it, but even so, he intrigued me.

  “Cut a guy some slack, will you? My social graces are rusty.”

  “Oh, please! I’ve been warned not to give you anything that might resemble sympathy.”

  “I don’t want your pity.” A spark flared in his eyes. “Are you always this sassy, or is your condition playing with your hormones?” He had a full-on grin, his white teeth gleaming.

  His audacity got the best of me. “Shut up, or I’m going to take your crutches when I leave.”

  My threat only made Theo roar with laughter, infuriating me more.

  “You’re a bad girl, teasing a hurt man. Just get in bed—you look tired. I’ll leave, if you really want me to.”

  I gave in because he was right: I was worn out. “No, don’t go.” I dropped my shoes, went to the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in, staying as far away from him as I comfortably could. “Let’s call a truce. I’ll stay over here, you stay over there.” I settled the plush bedding around me and rolled over to face his direction. The visible side of his body was flawless.

  “Fine, but you better not snore or I’m going to flatten a pillow over your head.”

  I stifled a giggle. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

  He jerked his head toward me, eyeing me suspiciously. “What did you expect?”

  “I just thought a war hero would be nice.” I yawned.

  “I’m not nice enough for you?” His voice, low and smooth, did nothing to hide his amusement.

  I relaxed, sinking in the mattress. “No, you’re a total asshole.”

  The bed shook with his laughter. “Well, at least you’re honest, but don’t call me a hero.”

  I heard the smile in his tone, but my eyes were closed. I really should have just stayed in bed today, I thought, drifting off to sleep.

  My eyes were open before I realized I was awake. Theo, bathed in moonlight, lay stretched out on top of the covers next to me.

  “You don’t have a ring on.” He searched my eyes.

  “I gave it back when I cancelled the wedding. Bradley wanted me to keep it…” I looked at my bare hand in the dim room. My ring finger felt naked without the karat-and-a-half, princess-cut diamond. Sometimes I still caught myself rubbing the area, searching for the phantom ring. “But I couldn’t.”

  “So what, you didn’t want a shotgun wedding?”

  “Wait. Bradley’s not the father.” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth.

  His eyes twinkled in the moonlight, and he grinned again.

  “So you are a bad girl.”

  Chapter Two

  In the days following Theo’s welcome home gathering, I constantly replayed the strange moments we’d spent together. After he’d called me a bad girl for the second time in one night, I’d bolted from the bedroom and called out goodbyes to everyone I passed on my escape to the front door. Sure, I hated what he’d been through, but the way he looked at me, and the way he talked to me, left me raw and exposed.

  I had my own problems to sort out. But like a good book I couldn’t put down, I wanted to know more about Theo. What was his story? What was next for him, with his body—his life—forever altered? I thought about interrogating Ellie or Jake, but I didn’t. That would only attract attention to my curiosity. Anyway, I wasn’t sure of my motives. Maybe I needed a mental diversion. Sooner or later our paths would cross again, but I didn’t expect us to gravitate to each other. I certainly didn’t anticipate him being drawn to me.

  “I smell bacon.” Steve’s warm voice came from behind me while I was setting up a display in the cooking section of The Book Stack. I snatched a copy of the newly released Bacontarian Diet and spun around to face him, catching my hip on the corner of the immense repurposed dining room table.

  The sensible part of me held steady, even though I twitched to chuck the book at him and bail. “Check out my Father’s Day gift display.” I kept the book level with my belly. “Doesn’t this cover make you hungry?” I tossed him a bar of bacon-like soap. “That’s what you smell.”

  “Soap? Now that’s original. I can stink like bacon all day.” Steve sniffed the bar and scrunched up his nose. “Some things are not meant to be. Think these will sell?” He cocked his head and gave me the inquisitive, younger-brother-by-seven-minutes look that reminded me how thoroughly he trusted me.

  My throat tight, I barely hung on to our conversation. “Sure, but not as well as the bacon gum, bacon-flavored toothpicks, bacon Band-Aids…” I tapped the items as I listed them. “Or my personal favorite…” I reached for the little red-and-white rectangular box and shook it. “Bacon jellybeans!”

  “Nice ensemble. I never knew such a vast array of porcine novelties existed. I can’t help myself.” Steve took the box of jellybeans, opened it, rattled out a handful of bacony beans then tossed them into his mouth. He studied the label, chewing away while I waited for his verdict.

  “Not bad.”

  My stomach rumbled loudly enough to catch Steve’s attention. He looked down, and I sidestepped to stand behind a stack of cookbooks.

  “You skip lunch again?” His brows pulled together, and I heated under his inspection. He read me too well.

  “I’m about to head to The Tavern.” The words rushed from my mouth.

  He shook out another handful of jellybeans. “Have a bacon bean,” Steve offered, his mouth full.

  I flinched at the smoky whiff of pork on his breath. “I’ll pass. You better pay for those. They’re six dollars a box.”

  “Ha! Put it on my tab.” He strolled away, loose limbed, all easy and light. Keeping a secret was bad enough, but keeping a secret from my twin felt like a tumor growing inside. If I told him some of the truth, he’d want to know all of it. And in the details, his heart would break.

  The Tavern, located on the opposite corner from The Book Stack, was my go-to place for a quick bite and a reprieve from work. That day, I passed through the big wooden doors and inhaled sharply. The restaurant was packed. Tuesday Night Trivia—always a good time to skip The Tavern. I slipped past the “Wait to be Seated” sign, which didn’t apply to regulars, and shouldered through the crowd to an empty, high-backed booth in the front corner.

  My favorite waitress, Karen, spotted me. “Hey, girl! Having the usual?”

  “No.” The usual was the healthiest item available: a grilled chicken salad with lite vinaigrette dressing. I smoothed my skirt, wiggling to adjust the bite of fabric sinking into my sides. The last time I had a lapse of self-discipline, I ended up pregnant, so at this point I figured I might as well live a little. Even though I knew the menu by heart, I grabbed one from behind the napkin dispenser. “I’ll have this…” I pointed to the chicken tender salad, justifying that the pile of greens canceled out the fried parts. I flipped the menu over. “Oh, and some of those.” I tapped on the shiny photo of potato skins, and my mouth watered.

  “Diet Coke?”

  “Lemonade.”

  She smiled broadly, jotting down my order. “I can tell it’s one of those days when someone is willing to eat what they’re not willing to say out loud.” My mouth fell open, but she laughed and sauntered away before I could change my order.

  The usual was safe. I shoul
d’ve stuck with the usual.

  With my back to the windows, I sat facing the crowd of people stopping in on their way home from work. The Maroon 5 song was loud, but the talk was louder. Stools circled the restaurant’s high-top tables, and booths lined its main walls. In the heart of the room, beneath stained-glass lights, an oblong bar pulsed with human activity.

  In a precise row sat five men, dressed casually in cotton clothes in tans, grays, and greens. They were well built, well groomed, and well received by the flock of women huddled around them. Although not in uniform, the fit and handsome group had the look of military. But in their current location, they stood out in an ocean of black and navy wool-blend suits, starched white shirts, and colorful silk ties loosened just a tad.

  In the middle of everyone sat Theo.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Neither could the tall, lithe brunette chatting with him. Her electric-blue top left three inches of perfectly taut, tanned stomach exposed, and her ample breasts fought against the shimmery fabric. Theo appeared completely enamored of her; his gaze trained on her boobs as if he’d never seen anything more tempting. And who could blame him? She radiated youth.

  I never worried much about my age, but something about being twenty-four, sitting in a bar, single and pregnant, watching a chick who was rocking the barely legal look flirt with the man who’d been haunting my thoughts… well, that left me feeling past my prime. Done with people-watching for one night, I switched to the other side of the booth for a view with 100% less cleavage. I zoned out, staring at my bookstore, and I thought about work, my favorite distraction.

  By the time Karen delivered my order, I was ravenous. I sucked down my lemonade and plucked the fried chicken strips out of my salad, dipping the chicken into creamy ranch dressing, moaning as I savored it all. After finding food repulsive for so long, I was suddenly infatuated with eating. The flavors and texture of most anything I put in my mouth tasted richer and more delicious than ever. So, there I sat, almost making out with my fried chicken strips, about to dive into the potato skins, when Theo fell into the seat across from me.

  “Slow down, blondie. No one’s going to steal your chicken.”

  “Don’t start with me.” I scooped up a potato skin covered in—yes—bacon from my plate.

  He also helped himself to a potato, not bothering with a plate or fork. Or my permission.

  “Why don’t you dig right in?”

  He nodded at my belly. “That thing is growing well on all this fried food.”

  I nodded right back to the cigarette tucked behind his ear. “Yeah, and you’re the poster boy for good health and wellness.” I pushed my plate away and folded the napkin in my lap.

  “No.” He leaned in closer and spoke in a firm almost-whisper. “I’m not well, and I’m not all that good either.”

  I tensed. Maybe I’d pushed too hard. Ready to apologize, I met his stare, but his lips stretched wide in a grin.

  “Don’t stop pounding food on my account.” He winked and scooted the plate back in front of me. “You’re pretty hot when you stuff your face.”

  A rare feeling bubbled up inside of me, and I laughed—something I hadn’t done in far too long.

  His attention lingered on my open mouth; a flicker of mischief flared in his eyes.

  “Look at that, Grumpy Girl knows how to smile.” Theo appeared pleased with himself. “So you’re still hiding your condition?” He gestured at my long, elaborately tied silk scarf.

  I cleared my throat and reached for the lemonade. “Yes, and I plan to for as long as I can.”

  “What’s the big deal? What do you care what anyone thinks?”

  “Because assumptions are made when a girl ends up like this.” I resisted the urge to place my hand on my stomach. “You don’t understand.” I lowered my voice and glanced over my shoulder. “The timing is awful. Everyone’s going to think my ex is the father.” I fished a twenty and a ten from my wallet and tossed them in the center of the table. “And then what?” My volume pitched higher. “Do I give details of my sex-life mishaps? I own a bookstore… I’m the go-to girl for information. Can’t you hear the jokes? Doesn’t she know how babies are made? Trust me, it’s bad all around.”

  “So let them assume. You shouldn’t have to answer to anyone.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I sat back and let out a long sigh, but I appreciated his concern.

  Theo raked his fingers through his hair. “What’s your ex think?”

  “Bradley doesn’t know.” I hated how the truth sounded like a confession. My pregnancy didn’t involve Bradley, but if he knew, he’d treat it like a problem he could solve. “He’s been out of town for several months. He got a promotion, proposed to me, and then we bought a house. Right after we moved in, his new boss assigned him to a quality-control plant in China. It was his dream territory, and he said at the time he’d only be on site for two weeks every quarter.”

  “He was out of the country when you dumped him? That’s brutal. I’ve seen what that does to a man.”

  “Hey, look how fast you’ve switched to assumptions.” My voice was louder than I’d intended. “It’s hard getting left behind.” I twisted the napkin in my lap, shredding the edges.

  “That’s not a good enough reason to call it quits.”

  “Sometimes at night, I’d call his room, and a woman would be there. He swore nothing was going on, but why was she always there? Worry consumed me, and I couldn’t let it go.”

  “So, was he guilty?”

  “I don’t know, but I was in the middle of planning our wedding, and he was preoccupied whenever we talked. I couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. I called off the wedding, took my condo off the market, and moved home.”

  “He didn’t come back for you?”

  “No.” I swallowed against my dry throat. Bradley was not the first one to forget about me.

  “He sounds like an idiot.” Theo’s words pleased me. “So just like that, no more house, no more wedding?”

  I nodded slowly, and I could almost hear the next thought click into place.

  “Where’d the little one come from?” he asked.

  “Nice try, buddy. I’ve given you enough dirt for one day. Your turn.”

  He lined up the salt and pepper shakers to the side of the napkin dispenser and straightened the menu behind it. “My turn?”

  “You got me to unload intimate details of my life. Now talk.” I leaned forward. “What’s your story?”

  Theo studied the room around us, and when his eyes snapped back to mine, they cut into me, exposed and restless.

  I knew that a roadside bomb had ripped him away from the life he wanted and pushed him back into a world that was no longer his, and I marveled how he could handle it all. Or maybe he couldn’t. I clutched the edge of my seat. My breath was trapped in my lungs, as if exhaling might blow away any chance to connect with him.

  The moment passed, and Theo returned to his guarded self. “No secrets here.” His voice betrayed none of the rawness his eyes had held seconds earlier. He held his palms open, his face lifted in a blinding, openmouthed grin. “What you see is what you get. End of story.”

  I smacked the table. “Yeah, right,” I said, and he chuckled. I glanced out the window to the bookstore and inventoried the things I had to do. “This has been delightful, but if that’s all you have to offer, I must get back to work.” I slid to the edge of the booth.

  “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

  “That wasn’t an invitation.”

  He shrugged, a gleam in his eyes. “I need a book.”

  I glimpsed his comrades lining up at the bar. The brunette moved to the seat Theo had previously occupied and busied herself flirting with another guy.

  “What about your friends?”

  “Nah,
we don’t have to invite them.” He positioned his crutches then heaved himself out of the booth. “Let me say my goodbyes.”

  At the entrance, I turned back in time to see the brunette help Theo put his backpack on. The gesture appeared oddly maternal, but then she slipped a folded napkin into his pocket, ruining the illusion. Theo laughed at something she said, and he turned to his friends, who got up to give him back-clapping hugs.

  Then he lurched toward me, and as I held the door, he thumped by. Theo stopped on the sidewalk in front of The Tavern. A neon Guinness sign buzzed in the window, casting a green glow across his profile. Theo pulled the cigarette from behind his ear, lighting up. I went to the crosswalk and pressed the button. He wobbled over as he puffed on the cigarette clenched between his lips.

  “What’s with the face?” he asked, speaking from the corner of his mouth.

  “That’s nasty.”

  He took a deep drag and removed the cigarette from his lips. Squinting at me, he exhaled; a bluish-white plume of smoke billowed into the night. He shook his head, smiling.

  “Um… what’s so funny?”

  He smirked. “It is nasty.” He dropped the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it with what appeared to be a brand-new Nike shoe. I pictured the mate alone in a box somewhere. Theo reached in his pocket, removed an almost-full pack of cigarettes, and tossed it in the trashcan by the light pole. “You happy now?”

  “You’re quitting? Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he said with confidence. His hands opened and closed, clenching the grips on his crutches. “Just something I picked up in the sandbox, anyway.”

  The light changed, and I turned to walk across the street, trying to go slowly enough for him to keep up.

  He trailed behind me and let out a low whistle, the kind that captures the attention of anyone in earshot. “Girl, you are working it in those heels with that short skirt.” His voice sailed to me. “I never knew pregnancy could look so hot.” The words sent a heat wave up my legs, not unlike a caress.