by Andrea Ring
I smooth a hand over the top of her head. “Daddy just had to run out real fast. He’ll be back. Let’s make you that bottle.”
Em looks at me. A single tear glides down her cheek.
***
Erica comes home just as Em is finishing off her bottle.
“Where’s Sam?” she asks. “He asked me to come over.”
“He just stepped out for a bit,” I say. “Let me put Em down for her nap, and we’ll talk.”
Erica nods and plops down on the couch. I carry Em to her crib.
“Time to sleep,” I tell her. I give her one last kiss and snuggle and lay her down gently. She smiles up at me and closes her eyes.
I return to Erica and sit beside her. “We have a situation with Em,” I say. “It looks like Dacey enhanced her in some way. I don’t know what way, but I do know her brain is growing at lightning speeds.”
Erica sits forward suddenly. “Is it dangerous? Is she okay?”
“She’s better than okay,” I say. “I mean, it looks like she might be a Dweller.”
Erica’s face falls, and I bristle.
“I don’t know that for a fact,” I clarify, “but I do know she healed her head wound already, and this morning…she started speaking.”
“Speaking?”
I nod, and Erica laughs. “That’s ridiculous! She’s a month old!”
“She’s also smiling, gesturing, holding her head up, and even sitting without help.”
“But…I just watched her yesterday. She didn’t do any of those things yesterday.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” I say, lowering my voice. “Dad and I have experience with this, and we’ll deal with it. But Sam can’t handle it. He didn’t want to touch her. He walked out, and I don’t know when he’s coming back.”
Erica leans back and closes her eyes. “Damn him.”
“Could be he just needs some time to process,” I say. “It’s a little scary when a baby starts doing adult things. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“Like his father?” Erica says.
I don’t have a response for that.
Erica opens her eyes. “I guess I should go close up the gallery so I can watch Em. Do you have time to wait for me? You probably need to get back to work.”
“Actually,” I say, “my load’s a lot lighter now that I’ve healed you and Tessa. I can watch Em. Why don’t you go back to work?”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Thomas,” she says. “This is my son, and my granddaughter, and my problem.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say. Like I’m not a part of your family.”
“Oh, Thomas, that’s not what I meant,” she says.
“I know you don’t want me to marry Tessa any time soon, but you’re marrying Dad as soon as you can, and I’m his son. I thought that was important to you.”
“Of course it is,” she whispers.
“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” I say. “Your actions and your words reveal the truth.” I stand up and look down at her stricken face. “I thought I’d proven myself by now. I thought you knew how much you and Tessa and Sam and Em mean to me. I’ve made mistakes, sure, but all in an effort to do right by you guys. I’m sorry I’m not worthy.”
“Thomas—”
“Don’t bother getting up. I’ll go close the gallery myself. You stay here and work out your problems.”
I head for the door.
“Thomas!”
I ignore her and keep going.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I get home after work to find Dad rummaging in my fridge.
“Sorry I don’t have any beer,” I say. “You’ll have to settle for orange juice.”
He straightens and closes the fridge, holding up a bottle of the local microbrew. “I brought my own,” he says. “Thought I might need it.”
I sigh and throw my laptop case and keys on the counter. “Is Sam back yet?”
“No,” he says. “Won’t answer his phone, either.”
“Shit.” I make my way to the fridge and grab a beer for myself. “You mind?”
Dad shakes his head. “I think you’ve earned one. But only one.”
I smile, flip off the cap, and take a long swig. “Ah, this stuff tastes like elephant piss.”
“You know what elephant piss tastes like?”
“I must have ancestral memory,” I say, taking a smaller sip. “So how’s Em?”
Dad smiles. “Amazing. She’s farther along than you were at her age.”
“How’s Erica taking it?”
“Hard,” Dad says. “Dwellers are a challenge to raise, especially when you aren’t one yourself.”
“So you haven’t told her she’s a Dweller yet?”
Dad grimaces. “I was planning on telling her tonight, and then this Sam thing happened, and then you had to go and put her in her place—”
“She deserved it,” I say.
“She loves you and doesn’t want to burden you any further,” he says. “She owes you her life, Thomas.”
“Then maybe she should start acting like it,” I say.
Dad gives me a scathing look. “So she’s not properly grateful, is that it?”
I chug my beer and swallow loudly. “Of course not. I just want to be treated like I belong, like I haven’t done anything extraordinary.”
“Erica has never treated you like you don’t belong,” he says. “She’s been through a nasty marriage and is trying to find her independence, and here you are, rescuing her left and right. It’s hard for her.”
“I just did what anyone in my position would do,” I say. “I had the means to help, so I helped. Why does it always end up making me feel like the bad guy?”
“Maybe because of the way you react,” he says. “When Erica said she had to deal with Em and Sam herself, why didn’t you just respect that? Why argue?”
“Why couldn’t she have just accepted my help?” I say.
Dad sighs. “Look, Erica wants to apologize. You just need to give her the chance.”
I hang my head. “That’s fine. I’ll apologize, too. I get it.”
“Good.” Dad throws back the last of his beer and goes for another one. “Now let’s talk about you and Tessa.”
“Let’s not,” I say.
Dad ignores me. “You screwed up big time, and Tessa’s feeling so guilty she can barely get out of bed. I think when school ends next week, she’ll just pull the covers over her head and refuse to get up.”
My heart aches to hear this. “What can I do?”
“Damned if I know,” Dad says.
I slam my beer on the counter. “That’s it? That’s the sage advice you’re giving me?”
Dad shrugs. “She loves you. She misses you. But she owes you so much, and she feels like she’ll never be able to repay you.”
“I don’t want her to repay me!” I yell.
“I know that, and she knows that, and that almost makes the guilt worse. She doesn’t feel like she’ll ever be worthy of you. She has nothing to contribute.”
“But that’s not true!” I scream. “She’s everything. She keeps me sane. She keeps me honest…sort of. She’s my conscience. She’s everything.” I suppress my tear glands and concentrate on breathing.
“I know that,” Dad says again. “Unfortunately, I’m not the one you have to convince.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
On Tessa’s last day of school (that’s how I’m counting time—whatever Tessa is supposed to be doing), I get a call from Erica.
“I’m wondering if you’re free this afternoon and evening,” she says. “Jack and Tyrion just got back, and we want to go to San Diego to see them. I’m hoping you can watch Em, maybe even for an overnight?” It sounds like Erica is holding her breath.
I smile to myself. “I’d be happy to,” I tell her. “I can get out of the lab at, oh, two o’clock. Is that early enough?”
“More than,” she says. “I know it’s last minute, and I know—”
/>
“Erica?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for asking me.”
She sighs. “You’re welcome.”
“So,” I say, “is Tessa not around?”
“She’s going…she has this thing…you know, a graduation party, I think.”
Oh. “No word from Sam?”
“Actually, he called this morning. He’s staying with some friends in Santa Cruz, trying to get his head on straight.”
“Any luck?”
“Apparently not,” she says, “as the ass still hasn’t come back.”
We hang up and I call Olivia Brooks, the girl I healed last year. I’m supposed to have dinner with her and her father tonight. When I explain that I got roped into emergency babysitting duty, Olivia actually squeals.
“Oh, can you bring the baby?”
“I guess I can do that,” I say. “I don’t think I can really bring her to the restaurant, though. It’s not a place for babies.”
“I’ll just have our chef whip something up,” she says. “We can eat here. I’ve never been around a baby before! Oh, I can’t wait!”
I laugh. “Okay, then. I’ll be at your house at what? Six?”
“Six it is,” she says. “But only if you can’t come earlier.”
***
At five-thirty, I knock on Olivia’s door with my elbow. I’ve got Em in her carrier in one hand, a diaper bag on my shoulder, and a playmat in my other hand.
“You ready?” I say to Em. “Remember, no talking. Try to act like a baby.”
Em giggles and nods.
Cyrus Brooks opens the door wide and waves us in. “Thomas! So good to see you!”
“Hello, Cyrus,” I say. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little overloaded.”
Cyrus chuckles. “This is a sight! I should take a picture.”
“Don’t make me hurt you,” I say with a laugh.
Cyrus generously takes the mat and diaper bag and guides us to the couch. “I have an orange juice at the ready, but if you prefer something stronger…” He gestures to his bar.
I smile. “Orange juice is great, thanks.”
He pours me a stiff one, and Olivia bounds into the room. “Thomas!”
“Hey, Olivia.” I stand up and give her a hug, and she quickly pulls away to squat down next to Em. “Oh, she’s so tiny! What’s her name?”
“Emmaleth, but we call her Em. Would you like to hold her?”
“Oh yes, please!”
I unbuckle Em and carefully lay her in Olivia’s arms. Olivia takes to Em right away, and they start cooing back and forth.
“Don’t get any ideas, now, Olivia,” Cyrus says with a wink. “I need a few more years before someone calls me Grandpa.”
“Dad,” Olivia says with a roll of her eyes.
We chat and munch on incredible hors d’oeuvres, and just as dinner is announced, Em starts to fuss.
“She probably needs a diaper,” I say, taking her from Olivia. “I’ll just take care of that and I’ll meet you at the table.”
“Can I help?” Olivia asks.
“Sure.”
We go to the restroom, and I lay a pad on the floor and change Em quickly. Olivia seems to be in awe.
“You’re so good with her,” she says. “How did you learn to do all this baby stuff?”
I laugh. “It took a lot of practice. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing at first. Em’s grandma was very patient and taught me everything.”
Olivia leans in close as I finish buttoning up Em’s onesie. “It’s sort of…amazing, the way you take care of her.”
“Thanks,” I say, “but it’s really nothing.” And when I lift my head, Olivia’s lips are inches from mine.
“It’s really…amazing,” she whispers, licking her lips.
I’m frozen watching her pink tongue dart from between those lips.
“Um…amazing?”
“Amazing,” she breathes, and she closes the gap between us and seals our lips together.
Oh…those lips. I’ve never thought about Olivia’s lips before, but I’m thinking about them now, and they are soft and lush and pillowed and completely different from Tessa’s lips in every way…Tessa’s lips…
I pull back hard. “I can’t do this.”
“You can,” Olivia says, and her sweet breath washes over me, and I almost fall over trying to back away from her.
“No, I can’t. I have a girlfriend.”
“I heard you broke up.”
I cock my head. “Where’d you hear that?”
She shrugs. “People talk. I know some people who go to school with your girlfriend.”
I’m completely crushed that Tessa would tell people we broke up.
“We didn’t,” I say. “Well, we did, but we’re getting back together.”
“But are you together now?”
I hesitate. “No.”
“Then you have nothing to feel guilty about,” she says, and she dives for my mouth and I welcome her.
How dare Tessa!
My anger fuels the kiss. Olivia’s heat matches my own. She pulls me to the side so we don’t crush Em, and I grind myself on top of her. She grips a handful of my hair and tugs, just enough so that the bulge in my jeans swells.
And Em lets out an ear-splitting shriek.
Olivia and I both pull back panting. I kiss her forehead and stand. I hold a hand out to her and pull her up beside me.
“I can’t do this, Olivia, I’m sorry.”
She nods. “That was out of control.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m just not ready.”
Olivia kisses my cheek. “I wish you were.”
I put a finger to my swollen lips. “Me, too.”
***
Em is quiet on the drive home. I try to talk to her, but she ignores me.
Great. Another female in my life avoiding me.
I put Em down for bed in a portable crib and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
Lord, I’m a first-class asshole.
I can still feel Olivia’s lips on mine. The urgency, the desperation, the heat…Tessa and I have never had that.
Not even when we were first together.
Because we’ve always been together.
But even if we’ve never had that, we have something so much better. Something so much more real. Tessa knows me.
And even though Olivia revved me up, and she’s smart and beautiful and rich, Tessa is mine.
I am hers.
Tessa does this thing with her lips, where she sort of purses them and shifts them to the left side (always the left), so she’s got a smooshed-up mouth. She does it when she’s thinking hard, or when she hears something she doesn’t agree with. I’ve told her that smooshing her mouth will cause wrinkles, but she doesn’t care.
She likes to sit with her legs crossed. I’ve told her that this pressure can cause varicose veins. She always listens politely and says, “Interesting.”
And just keeps on crossing those legs.
Tessa has the cutest little pinkie toes. The nails are so small she has trouble painting them. She tried growing them out one time to make them easier to paint, but one night her little claw nail cut my ankle when we were snuggling. I clipped the nails myself while she slept.
I’ve never seen Olivia’s feet.
One time we kissed when Tessa had a cold, and she got snot on me.
The first time we really made out, I ground against her so hard I rubbed the skin off my thigh, and blood stained my jeans. Tessa had the imprint of my jeans button in her stomach for two days. She didn’t complain once. Okay, she laughed at the results of my enthusiasm, but we laughed together.
God, I miss her so much, it’s like a hunger only one food can satisfy.
I have to get her back.
I have to get her back.
I have to—the doorbell rings.
I rush to answer it.
Ch
apter Thirty-Eight
Tessa stands on my doorstep, her car keys dangling from her hand. Every nerve in my body sings.
“Can I come in?”
I nod and step aside.
She goes straight to the living room and sits on the floor, since I have no furniture. I stand to the side of the room, watching her with desperate eyes.
“Can we talk?”
I nod again.
“Can you come a little closer?”
I walk over and lower myself to the floor in front of her.
“Do you think…we’ll ever be free?” she asks.
“Free from what?”
“Each other.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
She looks at her hands and twists her engagement ring. It’s still on her finger. My heart stutters.
“Do you think, if we never get back together, that we’ll be able to get over each other?”
I try to draw her eye, but Tessa’s staring intently at her hands.
“No. I’ll never get over you,” I say honestly.
She finally looks up. “Is that because you like to be tragic, or because you really love me?” She doesn’t say this in an accusatory manner—I get the impression that it’s a genuine question.
“Do you think I don’t love you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Our relationship is comfortable, most of the time, and convenient. We’ve never known other people. Our parents are getting married. I was sick, and I knew you could save me, and you saw healing me as a challenge. There are so many reasons for us to be together that mean absolutely nothing to me.”
“Sure those things exist,” I say, “but they’re not the reason we’ve been together.”
“Aren’t they?” she says sadly.
“Not for me,” I say. “Cyrus once told me that I was poised for greatness, but that even evil can be great. You are the thing that keeps me good, Tessa. You are my reason for living, my compass that guides every action and every thought. I can be great, but I can’t be good without you.”
Tessa’s eyes fill with tears. “Sometimes I feel like all that good goes to your work and to other people, but it doesn’t go to me. I mean, you’re not bad to me, that’s not what I mean…you just…you have to see that I’m my own person. I’m not an extension of you, and I don’t exist to make you good. I have my own dreams and my own needs, and I want to make my own decisions.”
