“Must have been some other woman in my bedroom you’re thinking about.” I can’t believe I said that. Holy fucking hell. I do remember when we’d do that. But I—Jesus, what is wrong with me? I don’t want to pick a fight with him. Or, actually, I do. But I don’t. I want wine. I want to keep the peace. I want to shut up and see if my son’s okay because it worries the fuck out of me that he insists on taking a bath now without me there every second.
Tony yanks hard on my arm. “What?”
I wince, because Tony’s good at intimidating me, waving his arms around, closing me into a tight corner. But he’s never hurt me. Until now. This is the second time during the conversation where he’s gotten too rough, and I know I’ll bruise. I suck in a dry breath, clutching at my shoulder, pain shooting up my arm and into my head.
“Fuck.” Tony hisses, capturing me again in a looser grip. “Moira, why’d you—what the hell has gotten into you?”
He doesn’t apologize. He never has. Probably never will.
I look up into his brown eyes. Eyes I memorized. Eyes I looked into with love. And I don’t feel anything like I used to. I don’t know if it was Joe or my weird awakening before meeting Joe, but I suddenly can’t summon the instant forgiveness I used to for Tony.
There’s an ugly monster inside of me that wants to fight him. But I’m no longer sure if this beast is bad. I wonder if it’s my last shred of dignity, clawing its way out, trying to give me strength when all I want is a fucking glass of chardonnay.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Tony exhales slowly. He steps closer again, holding me in his arms, sliding his chin on the top of my head. “I guess…I guess you’re due to get pissed at me. I did fuck things up pretty good.”
I don’t want him close. I don’t want to feel his stubble on my head. I don’t want him to feel he can hold me like he is.
He nods against me. “Just…Moira, I love you. You know that. I know I fucked up, but…I love you.”
I nod and push away from him, saying, “Jamie.”
He catches me by my shoulders, turning me back to him. “Ever going to say it back? Or too pissed at me?”
I can’t look at him. He wants me to tell him that I love him too. And sometimes, I give in and do. It’s just easier to give in. But I hate the way it feels inside my body, like black tar has morphed into my blood, how I’m sludge, I’m nothing. Even though I don’t utter the words, I feel the same—forced into a corner where I give in. And I hate how I’m not me right now.
He hugs me again. “You don’t have to say it. I know you’re pissed. It’s okay. I know.”
Once more, I push away from him. “Gotta check on Jamie.”
He smiles tightly. “I’m going to go. I’ll say goodbye to Liv and go. You can be pissed at me. I understand.”
Thank you so much for giving me permission, asshole. God, I wish I could say that.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I nod and finally he lets me leave to check on our son.
I’m a robot when I see Jamie, forcing a smile into place, acting like everything’s fine. This is my default, and I’m only thinking of chilled white wine as I go through the motions. Liv fights me about her own bath and bedtime. She runs out of steam and collapses in a heap in the hallway, where I scoop her up and remind myself to make her brush her baby teeth in the morning, since she didn’t tonight. I’m such a bad mom, not forcing her to brush her teeth.
Jamie and I spend an hour together, talking and playing, then he goes to bed too. He’ll be such a good man when he grows up. But I worry. I’m so scared he’ll tell a woman he loves her and not really know what that means.
Or maybe it’s me that doesn’t know love. I’ve always, like an idiot, thought it was some cure-all. Love conquers all, they say. But right now, I don’t think it can. I think that’s a cliché people tell each other to keep from reality.
I’m thinking about going to my medicine cabinet and drinking some cough syrup to find my numb. I’ve never done anything so drastic, but I can’t stand the way I feel after Tony. I feel insignificant and yet have all the weight of the world on me at the same time. It’s a hopeless feeling that’s been my closest companion for far too long.
After cleaning up the kitchen and tidying the sunroom—I don’t know how Liv can make such a big mess in less than thirty seconds, I slowly walk my way through the hallway. I check Liv. She’s softly snoring, funny girl. Jamie’s holding onto his GI Joe in a death grip while he’s sleeping, his blond brows furrowed. Oh, how I worry about that boy.
No, in actuality, I don’t think my son will be like his father. I’m scared he’ll be like me. A fool for love, someone who tries and tries and tries so fucking hard and feels so beaten at the end of the day.
I turn off the lights and air kiss my babies, so happy they’re back home, then realize I’m going to drink cough syrup. I’m not going to go to another AA meeting. I can’t take this shit any longer.
Turning into my bedroom, I’m feeling like I’m broken in a million places when I see a massive form, placing the window screen back where it goes. I race to Joe, jumping on him before he’s ready and clobbering him to the floor on a grunt. I’m laughing quietly and so close to tears.
He’s softly chuckling too. “Happy I broke into your house again?”
I nod and wrap my arms around his neck. I want to tell him how he makes the tightness in my chest and throughout my shoulders go away, how he’s saving my life, but that would mean telling him more than I’m willing to spill. So I clutch onto him, smiling, wiggling until I’m on top of his huge body, straddling him.
“I’m so fucking happy to see you, Joe.”
15
Joe stayed the night, promising he’d leave before my children wake. Still, I startle myself from sleep in the predawn light, for a split second thinking he’s here with me, but I turn and he’s not. A note left on the pillow beside me, reading...
I don’t want to leave your bed. But I said I would, so I will. You’re adorable when you sleep.
You have symmetrical bruises on your upper arms. If I find out your ex-husband did that, I’ll kill him and make it look like an accident.
See you tonight after your kids go to sleep.
Joe
My heart stutters at both the threat and his sweetness. Glancing down at my arms, I notice what tipped Joe off. There’s blue and purple handprints. Right where Tony held me in place. Today, I hate Tony. That might sound juvenile, but I’ve never allowed myself to feel this...rage. I had to deal with my mother’s diagnosis and then her treatment and eventually moving her into the nursing home. I had to deal with my babies and visitation and trying so damned hard to make sure the kids didn’t think less of Tony.
So, I make the decision to not talk to him. He calls me about every day, often more than once a day, in fact. But for today, and maybe the next few days, I need space. A little time and distance to allow myself to hate him, to be angry.
I spend the day enjoying my children and feeling like I’m getting reacquainted with them. At night, Joe comes again. He doesn’t ask me about the bruises and I never admit how I got them. It’s not like I’m trying to protect Tony. All right, maybe I am a little. Since I’m not exactly sure what Joe did for the military, I’m a little afraid he might not be kidding around about that death threat.
A few days pass. I have my kids during the day. Joe at night. By Wednesday, Tony’s calling every hour. By dinnertime, I finally snap and answer.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the phone while I’m in my en suite bathroom, the one place I can get privacy. For a few minutes, at least. “But I don’t want to talk about this right now. Maybe I should have told you that, but—”
“Don’t you look at caller ID when you answer your phone?” The voice is shrill. And feminine.
“Bit?”
“Yeah, Moira. Are you and Joe already fighting?”
I sigh. “No. It’s my ex. I—never mind. What’s up?”
Now, she sighs. “Like you don’t know. I’m at the meeting, wondering where you are, wondering if you’ve fallen off the wagon.”
The doorbell chimes, and I nearly groan. That’s got to be Tony.
I leave the bathroom and walk though my house, the TV loud as Liv and Jamie are watching something where animals sing a lot.
“I haven’t fallen off the wagon. I just—I don’t have a babysitter. And I think my ex is here.”
“And you two are fighting, right?” Bit pauses as I’m threading my way through the kitchen and the minefield of Legos and naked dolls. The doorbell chimes again. This time with a knock.
Jamie spies me as I’m wincing from stepping on a Lego man. “Mom, I think someone’s here.”
“Got it.” I try to smile.
“Got what?” Bit asks.
“I’m talking to my son.”
“Listen, Moira.” Bit sighs. “You really need to come to the meeting. I can hear how stressed you are.”
In the front room, I return to whispering. “How the hell can I when I don’t have a babysitter?” I purse my lips, realizing I’m chewing off the head of a person I don’t know very well, but who I like. A lot. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Bit sighs yet again. “I’ll come over and watch them. You need to be here.”
“I gotta go, Bit. My ex—” There’s knocking again and I’m so frustrated I just open the door. “What?” I say, sounding half crazy.
Shane’s golden brown eyes widen. “I—I must have caught you at a bad time.”
“Who’s that? Is that Joe?” Bit asks. “I want to talk to him. He can babysit.”
“It’s Shane Whitaker.” I look at Shane apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else. And I—I’m sorry.”
“It’s Shane?” Bit’s voice goes really high. “Oh my god, I had such a crush on him in high school. That man is so hot he got me to crush on him. Me. He’s so intense. Those crazy colored eyes. And he’s so smart too. Oh! He could babysit.”
“I’m not going to ask him to babysit.”
“Why not?” Shane asks, a smile slowly stretching his lips.
I stare at him but then say, “Bit, I’m going to have to call you back.”
“Is that Elizabeth Smith?” Shane asks. “Joe said he ran into her. Such a bright girl.”
“He tutored me for English,” Bit says. “I didn’t need it. I just wanted to be closer to him. Is he still super intense? Kind of like a cross between Johnny Depp and Natalie Portman?”
I snort laugh.
“What’d she say about me?” Shane asks and steps into my house, closing the door behind him.
I shake my head. “You don’t want to know.”
His dark brows furrow. “Let me talk to her.”
The funny thing is, I’m handing the phone to him, ushering him into my house, saying, “Welcome to the loony bin.”
“Bit,” he says, smiling and following me into the Lego and naked doll minefield that is my kitchen. He’s quiet for a long time, his grin waning. Finally, he reaches out and takes my wrist. “You’re going out with Bit. I’ll watch your kids.”
I shake my head, opening my mouth, but Jamie’s standing on the other side of the kitchen island, shouting, “Who’s that, Mom?”
“This is Shane. He’s Auntie Eva’s son.”
“He’s old.”
Shane starts laughing, while I shake my head at my own son. “No, he’s not. Be polite, please.”
“Shane!” Liv screams, running around the dining table. What it is about the table, I’ll never know. “Shane, Shane, Shane.”
“Right. I will, Bit.” He nods at me again, still holding onto my wrist. “Yep, I will. Okay. Bye.” He hangs up my phone and hands it back. “I’m going to babysit your kids.”
“Why?” Jamie asks. “Where’s my mom going?”
Shane looks down at Jamie, removing his hand from me. “I’m Shane and your mom needs to see her friend, Bit. And I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to hang out with you while she goes. What’s your name?”
“I didn’t say—”
But Jamie interrupts me. “Jamie. That’s my sister Liv. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Almost twenty-nine. How old are you?”
“I’m six. I’ll be seven…I forget—my birthday is in November. How tall are you?”
“Six-feet and two inches. Two-and-a-half on a good day.”
Jamie narrows his eyes. “I think that’s taller than my dad. Are you tall?”
Shane shrugs. “Kind of. But my younger brother is now taller than me.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Liv finally stops and looks at Shane. “What did you eat for breakfast?”
Shane takes a deep breath. “I think I made a couple eggs.”
“Eggs!” Liv shouts and starts running around the table again.
“I’d like to say they’re not usually like this.” I smile at my children. “But they’re always like this. And the house is always this messy.”
Shane smiles and it’s wide and genuine and takes my breath away. “It’s all good.” He looks down at Jamie again. “So is it okay if I hang out with you and your sister while your mom visits a friend?”
Liv races towards Shane and jumps. It’s something she only does with me. Mid-air she yells, “Catch me!” And Shane does. He sweeps her up and somehow spins her around over his head so she’s sitting on his shoulders, laughing her little head off, while I’m clutching at my heart.
“Mom?” Jamie says.
“Yeah, babe.” I glance at my son, who’s still looking at Shane.
“Does the man like GI Joe?”
“His name’s Shane, sweetie. Remember?”
“I love GI Joe.” Shane kneels down to Jamie’s level, Liv pounding on his head. “In fact, my brother is named Joe and he’s a soldier.”
Jamie’s mouth opens. “Wow.”
“I know.” Shane nods.
“Shane?” Jamie asks. “Do you—do you want to play with me?”
“Yes, I do.”
Jamie runs towards the sunroom. “Come on, Shane.”
Liv smacks poor Shane on the head again. “Come on, Shane.”
He stands and smiles at me. “I got this. Go. Have fun. Say hi to Bit for me.”
I shake my head, and Shane takes me by my shoulders and turns me toward the front room.
“Go, Moira.”
“Go, Mommy. Go.” Liv is so happy smacking her newest pony.
I look up at my daughter. “Be nice to Shane. Don’t hit him.”
She then pets Shane’s golden brown hair. “I wasn’t, Mommy. I very nice to Shane.”
I purse my lips. “Little fibber.”
Liv laughs.
“Seriously, Liv. Be nice to Shane. No hitting. Or there’ll be consequences.”
She frowns. “I hate conse-conse-consequenthes.”
Shane pats her knee. “Don’t we all.” He smiles yet again and pushes me closer to the front room. Then he smacks my ass. “Go.”
I’m so startled I do leave. In a blur. Feeling Shane’s hand on my butt. He didn’t hit me hard, but…it was such an intimate thing to do. And so…not what I was expecting from him.
* * *
Bit was right. I needed to go to the meeting.
Being that I live in a liberal university town, the AA meeting I attend is…different. There’s a lot of latitude about the twelve steps, and mainly there’s only the focus on one: Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Our group is only for women and only for volunteers. No one can be sentenced to our group—the leader somehow made that possible. And men…well, I didn’t know about it until Bit told me. There’s something called the thirteenth step in regular AA meetings that has to deal with romantic relationships. As Bit’s said, it’s frowned upon to start a relationship when recovery is begun. What’s even more discouraged is having a romantic relationship between two alcoholic
s. The thirteenth step is when men, usually, find vulnerable women and prey on their weaknesses.
There are far too many murder victims who have died because of the thirteenth step, Bit told me.
So, I’m taking it seriously. As I drive home, feeling stronger than when I drove away from my house, I think about Joe. The thing is, and Bit agrees with me on this, Joe doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would take advantage of me. Bit cringed when she said, “It’s just really fucking bad timing.” She also said to watch out for my ex, because from the little I’ve told her, he might be more the kind of man to take advantage of my vulnerability at this stage. Or to take advantage of my vulnerability, period.
I didn’t say anything when she’d said that. But I’m amazed at her instincts. And I can’t help but wonder about my relationship with Tony. Was there ever a time I wasn’t vulnerable around him? When we’d met, I felt so stupidly honored he even talked to me. He was so handsome and every woman at college wanted him, fantasized about him. I didn’t necessarily fawn over him, but I…I didn’t see him for the man he was.
It’s doubly reassuring to have Bit say that Joe didn’t seem to be the kind of man to take advantage of me because I worry about my internal detector. With Tony, other people saw him for who he was. He’s not a bad man. He’s just…self-involved, might be the word. He pays for the lovely home I live in, pays for the kids and me to have a comfortable life, even pays for my mother to be well-taken care of. But he, even when we were together, is never there. He was out, getting laid and telling me lies about it. He said he needed his private time. I always wondered why he never figured I did too. Maybe because when I wanted private time, I truly wanted to be alone, while he…oh, Tony.
And I don’t think Shane is the kind of man to take advantage of me, either. I’m nervous as I drive home, wondering just who he is or why he stopped by. Then it hits me that I don’t know anything about him. And he’s watching my kids.
Shit.
Joe said he’d been a good babysitter when he was a child. And I couldn’t believe how great Shane was with my children. Even Jamie seemed to like him, and Jamie doesn’t attach quickly to men. Hell, Bit seemed to think the world of him.
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 15
