“I’m just shooting for the later side of that,” he continued.
“Me too,” I whispered. Thank God we were on the same page. Sort of.
“Because—”
“We have a long way to go,” I said.
He nodded. “And if we went there now,” he began.
“It could—It would get—” The words froze in my throat.
“Complicated.”
Boom.
Exactly. I saw my every thought looking right back at me.
Translation: It wouldn’t just be once. And more than once equaled need. Need turned to feelings.
Neither of us could afford that.
“Yeah,” I said. “So—”
He glanced down at himself. “So I need to quit talking about this or we’re never getting out of this pool.”
Was it bad that him being turned on by me was a hot rush? That I really wanted to reach over and feel it for myself? Yes. Yes it was, Lanie. I smiled.
“So tell me about your daughter, then,” I said.
He frowned. “That’ll do it.”
“Her name is Addison and she’s brilliant and beautiful and wants to go to art school,” I said. “That’s all I really know about my stepdaughter.”
“Oh man, that sounds weird,” he said. “Shit, I need to tell her.”
“You haven’t told her?” I said. “You talk to her every other day.”
“I talk to her once a week, thank you very much,” he said. “She just texts a lot. Teenagers do that.”
“And?”
He blew out a breath. “Tell her over the phone that her old man got married for the money to send her to college?” he said quietly, lifting his eyebrows. “No. That hasn’t come up.”
All the hot steamies and the warm and cozy moments of the last half hour felt decidedly cooler.
“I’ll tell her tonight,” he said on a weary exhale.
“That’s still over the phone.”
He shook his head. “I’m headed home tonight.”
“You’re—what?”
I had no claim and he owed me absolutely nothing, but something in that sentence stabbed me in the gut. He looked at me funny.
“It’s Addison’s graduation on Monday. I put it on the calendar on the fridge.”
That sounded so married and domestic. Except that truly married and domestic would have probably involved a conversation. And possibly travel for two.
And that’s where my brain shut down my heart. Right there on that thought path. With a roadblock from hell. Where in this journey had I ever thought he’d bring me home to meet his family, his daughter, his life? That was never in the plan, and I was breaking my own internal rules.
I shook my head and laughed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I just—never think to look at that.”
“So you’re okay with it?” he asked, looking a little confused. Probably wondering why he was asking.
I scoffed. “Please. It’s your daughter’s graduation. Go! Enjoy!” I pushed at his shoulder like a friend would. Like a buddy. “Video like all the other nerd parents.”
He chuckled. “That’ll be her mom.” He shook his head. “For someone who never wanted to grow up and be a mother, she loves these big moments. Goes all out.”
The woman who always got under his skin was going to be there. Fuck, of course she was going to be there. Where else would she be on her daughter’s high school graduation?
“Tell me about her,” I said, sensing he was actually open for once.
“About Tara?” I nodded so he’d continue, but his eyes took on that slightly pissed off look they always did when the subject of his ex-wife came up. “She’s usually the person I try to avoid if at all possible, but this time is out of my hands.” He exhaled slowly and stared off into something I didn’t see. “She was the spoiled rich girl I had no business having. Then she was the love of my life. Until that wasn’t enough.”
“You’re always so anxious to grow up, my girl. Slow down. One day you’ll be begging to build a blanket fort in the living room to hide from life.”
Chapter Ten
“Y’all need to step it up.”
That was Carmen’s grand advice. Nick’s departure that afternoon led to a little girl’s night therapy at Rojo’s. A Mexican restaurant that had been there since before our time and possibly before Aunt Ruby’s. Not that I needed therapy. Or was upset or uptight in any way. But venting was definitely in order, and Ralph wasn’t cutting it as a sounding board. He wouldn’t even come inside much anymore he was so into his kingdom in the backyard.
“Step it up how?” I asked. “I flashed my boobs to the entire town, defending his honor, and then we practically rounded third base as he defended mine.”
Carmen clapped a hand over her mouth before she could spit out a mouthful of chip and salsa, and laughed silently in her chair.
“God, I wish I’d been there,” she said finally. “That has to be the story of the year. It’ll definitely be the story of the festival this year. You know that, right?”
“Whose side are you on?” I said, throwing a chip at her.
“I didn’t know we were picking sides,” she said. “I’m just saying. Telling Katrina Bowman off like that—it’s epic.”
“Well, you don’t wish you would have been there, because Lean Mean Dean was working the next election like a pro,” I said, using the nickname he used to call himself.
Carmen shook her head and dipped another chip. “Sad that he’s become that—that thing. That stereotypical politician. He used to be a good guy.”
I gave her a look. “A good guy that worked you like a puppet and then threw you under the bus when his ego took a hit.”
She chewed in silence, ever the protector of the innocent. Carmen was always the pretty one. The one that turned guys’ heads. The striking looks with the perfect boobs and bouncy blond hair that could have any man she ever wanted, except for the one she truly did. She never cheated on Dean, not even when they were kids. Not even when Sully entered the picture. They were broken up when it started, and after he left—well, after that, maybe her heart strayed but her body never did.
At least to my knowledge.
“So, back to you and your apparent exhibitionist streak,” Carmen said, ducking when I aimed a chip at her head. “You’re right, that’ll be hard to follow.”
“And why do we need to?” I asked. “We’re doing just fine—or sort of. Except for that leaving without telling me thing. But the town is buying it. We’re playing it.”
“The town isn’t who you need to convince,” she said. “It’s those rotten cousins of yours.”
Wow, how far we’d come from the polite and respectable presence of Attorney Carmen just a few weeks ago.
“I think Alicia is up to something,” I said.
“They’re all up to something,” Carmen said. “Bryce has been schmoozing at City Hall, I’ve seen him there twice. And I just got the heads up that he’s paying Alicia to play private eye.”
I sat back in my chair. “Say what?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There weren’t enough what-the-fucks for that.
“She needed the money, and he probably figured she was a hell of a lot cheaper than the real deal. So all these times you see Alicia?”
“Oh man, I’m totally upping the freaky scale,” I said. “Maybe I’ll start wearing wigs and pick my nose in public.”
“Just start showing a little more intimacy,” Carmen said. “Don’t give them a reason to go digging and find out you just got married.” A big bowl of queso came and we both moaned.
“Again—flashed my boobs and stayed that way in his arms for what felt like half the day,” I said. I wasn’t thinking about the massive hard-on and his hands gripping my ass and how close his mouth had been. Nope, not at all. “Stepping that up in public would probably get us arrested.”
“Not step that up, dorkus,” she said. “K
iss him.”
My entire body broke out in goose bumps. She said that like it was so simple. The one time we’d bumped lips was at the diner for Alicia’s benefit, and it had nearly given me a coronary. If I would have gone there today along with the—I couldn’t even think about it without going hot in all kinds of places.
“We don’t do that,” I said.
“So start,” she said, her eyes wide like she was talking to a child.
I licked my lips at the mere thought of it, and she pointed at me.
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” she said.
I frowned. “What?”
“You might not do that,” she said, doing finger quotes. Really. Finger quotes. “But you want to.” She narrowed her eyes at me with her lawyer stare and a grin pulled at her lips. “You want to, bad. You’re falling for your husband.”
I scoffed. “I totally am not.”
“You are, and you’re buying the next round for lying,” she said. “The next two, if you’re really that clueless and don’t see it.”
“I’ll throw in a dessert just to bring an end to this topic,” I said with a wild grin.
“So let’s look at all the points, shall we?” she said, ignoring me.
“Oh hell no, you aren’t lawyering me.”
“First, you’re all out of sorts because he left town,” she said.
“I have no problem with Nick leaving town,” I countered.
“To see the love of his life,” she added.
My jaw locked a little on that one. And my left thumb twitched. That wasn’t a problem, right?
“He’s going to see his daughter graduate,” I said. “Have dinner with her tonight. Perfectly normal. The love of his life chick just happens to be there.”
“And if you only saw your face just now,” she said. “That bothers you.”
“No it doesn’t, lawyer lady, move on.” I stopped to point at her. “And I was not out of sorts. I just had a problem—not even a problem, actually. Just an issue with him springing it on me like that. I mean, married people tell their spouse when—”
“And so you see the two of you as a real married couple,” she said. “Check.”
I picked up my drink and shook my head. “Uncheck.”
“Point two,” she continued. “The thought of Katrina Bowman hitting on him drove you to rip off your clothes—”
“Excuse me?” I said. “There was no ripping. I calmly untied the string and—”
“Held your baubles up for the world to see,” she finished. “To show her just whose man he was and to keep her grimy hands off.”
My mouth opened and closed twice like a friggin guppy. Had I done it like that?
Yes. I had.
“Next,” I said. Rather weakly.
“Third, you just went ten shades of panicked when I mentioned kissing him,” she said. “And finally—I know this droopy preoccupied look of yours. It hasn’t changed in all these years.”
“What?”
“When you have it bad, Lanie,” she said, taking a long swig from her fruity drink. “You wear it all over you. You get all flushed and blinky when you talk about him, or when his name comes up unexpectedly.”
I just glared.
“You’re full of shit,” I said. “Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick. No blinking. No pinking. No problem.”
“So if I said he just walked in?” she said, glancing past me.
My heart felt like it went up my throat and hurtled itself against my skull, as I whirled around in my chair, knocking my beer over in the process.
“Fuck!” I exclaimed, grabbing at it, my napkin, my wallet, my phone—all while craning my neck to find him. “Seriously?”
“No.”
I turned back around, my ears still pounding with my heartbeat. “What?”
She started laughing. “No, he’s not here. And you just made my case for me. Thank you, Your Honor, no more questions.”
I sat there blinking, catching my breath, one arm and thigh drenched in beer.
“I hate you right now.”
Carmen tilted her head sympathetically, handing me some more napkins. “Sorry?”
“No you’re not,” I said, sopping up the mess. “You love that lawyer shit.”
“Not really,” she said. “I’m good at it, but it’s just going through the motions.”
I glanced up. “So why do it? Do something else.”
Carmen scoffed. “Right, just do something else? Blow off the fact that that’s the only thing I’m trained to do?”
“I mean, if you’re not happy,” I said.
God, I was a hypocrite. California, much?
“Happy would be travelling the world, drinking coffee in dive cafes and never having a mailing address, remember?” she said. “It’s not about happy, it’s about reality. And that’s here. Chasing court dates instead of dreams.”
I remembered. Carmen’s mom was a big dreamer, raising her on her own but working odd jobs because she was always looking for some magic fit she never found. Carmen inherited that itchy nature in the form of wanderlust. Not that she ever got to act on it.
“Anyway, we were talking about you,” she said. “And your love life.”
“No,” I said. “No we weren’t. You were making a court case all by yourself and I was listening.”
“The point is, y’all do need to make more appearances,” she said. “Intimately. Holding hands. Kissing. You know Alicia will be everywhere. What about the dance?”
I laughed. “I don’t see us going to the Honeycomb Dance, Carmen.”
“Perfect opportunity,” she said. “Will he be back?”
“Supposed to be back on Wednesday, and the dance is that night, so yes, but—”
“No buts,” she said. “I’ll even—ugh,” she began, rubbing her face as if the words she had yet to say were going to hurt. “I’ll even meet you there.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You? At a Charmed public event? With people?”
“I know,” she said. “Take that as proof that I have your best interests at heart. I want to see you get what you want.”
There was a double meaning all up in her eyes and tone, but I refused to let her steer me there.
“What if Mayor Dean is there?” I asked.
“I’ll say, hey Dean, and keep walking,” she said. “Alan’s a different story. Him I might have to maim.” She held up a finger. “I have one other question.”
“Crap.”
“Why haven’t you called that California job back?”
I huffed out a breath as I sat back in my chair. “How do you know I haven’t?”
“Have you?” she asked, one eyebrow lifting.
“Sort of.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“I still have to schedule an interview.”
Carmen nodded and signaled our waitress for another beer for me. “So what’s stopping you?”
“I’m kind of stuck here, Carmen,” I said. “Thanks to Aunt Ruby, I still have another two months left on my sentence.”
She chuckled. “You can still do the interview, and tell them it’s something else. Make it sound important. You’re on a special project at work and can’t leave them in the lurch till it’s done in two months. You’re willing to take three weeks’ vacation instead of four in gratitude for their patience.”
My jaw dropped. “They aren’t going to give me four weeks, anyway.”
“Play it like they are,” she said. “Build your worth up. Lanie, this is the chance of a lifetime. A chance to get the hell out of here.”
Sounded more like the chance of her lifetime. She’d settled on life in Charmed with Dean after Sully Hart left her behind. It hurt my heart a little that maybe that’s why we drifted apart after I left. Because I got to leave.
“I was already the hell out of here,” I said. “Not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“This one’s different,” sh
e said. “It’s your dream job. It’s starting over. You can tell them whatever you want them to believe.”
I shook my head and grabbed my new beer. “Maybe I need you to do my interview for me.”
My phone dinged, and my belly tightened as I saw the name on the text message.
Nick.
Only because we kept talking about him. Shake it off.
Then I pressed it, and there was a different belly burn.
A selfie of Nick and his daughter, head to head, at a restaurant. It was an adorable photo. She looked so much like him it was incredible. He looked so friggin proud I could feel it through the pixels.
If only it wasn’t photo bombed.
By his ex-wife grinning over their heads.
Looking like a family. The real kind. I inhaled slowly and took a long drink from my bottle. Tried not to think about the earlier activities of the day. Tried not to let anything cross my face where Carmen could pounce on it.
Evidently, I failed, because she plucked the phone from my hand and looked at the screen.
“Why did he send you this?” she asked.
My stomach felt nauseated, all the chips I’d just ingested turning into concrete.
“It’s—it’s a good picture of him and his daughter,” I managed.
“That’s what you see there?” she said. I took my phone back and started pressing and scrolling. “What are you doing?”
“I’m filling out a Skype form,” I said.
“Life’s too short for melodrama and uncomfortable shoes.”
Chapter Eleven
I ran through the door at precisely 11:28, having ditched out of work fifteen minutes before my lunch hour officially began. One of the tellers quit unexpectedly, so I’d been pre-promoted from the cursed assistant position to a real girl with my own station. At eleven o’clock, however, while listening to yet another female customer in my line wax on about the Greek god that was my husband and how he made her want to eat at the Blue Banana every day of the week and how lucky I was… I’d looked down to see that my phone had 2 percent battery left because I couldn’t find my charger that morning and my Skype interview was at eleven-thirty. I was going to have to go home, and pray that my laptop (still in its case) was working.
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