Breaking the Plan: Mill Street Series #1

by Calla, Jessica

  “Her heart is broken, George. That’s the big picture here. Don’t you see?”

  Dad huffed. “I know, but …” He pointed to the trash. “It’s an iPhone.”

  “Taryn, baby,” Mom said, glaring at Dad as she reached for me. “Put down the turkey legs.”

  I did as she said, then held up my dirty hands.

  “George. Wash your hands and get your daughter a paper towel.”

  He did as she said too. Then he sat back down.

  As I wiped my hands, my parents bookended me, waiting for me to say something. My bottom lip quivered. Then I burst into tears.

  “Oh sweetheart.” Dad put his arm around my shoulder. “Gloria, do something.”

  I bawled, letting the tears roll down my cheeks into my lap, hoping there was some magic they could do that would make everything alright.

  Mom rubbed my back. “Oliver is an idiot if he goes back to Violet. Especially if he knows that you’re in love with him.”

  I moaned out a sob. Between sniffs I said, “I …didn’t…tell…him.”

  She picked up her napkin and handed it to me. “Blow.” After I blew my nose in it, she scowled. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  My cheeks were hot and wet, but the look on my mother’s face told me I had some explaining to do. “Because I don’t deserve him. He should be with Violet.”

  They both gasped.

  “Where did we fail her?” Mom asked Dad.

  “My daughter didn’t just say that, did she, Gloria?” Dad shook his head. “My perfect daughter? Who works hard? Who’s getting a college degree? Who wants to see the world? Who’s moving to California after graduation? She thinks someone doesn’t deserve her?”

  “It’s true,” I shouted at them, finding my inner fourteen-year-old persona. “I have nothing to offer him.”

  They gasped again.

  Mom pouted. “We really did screw up something along the way, huh, hon? How could you say that, Taryn? You’re Taryn Michelle Markos, and you are the world.”

  Dad nodded, and I cried again. “Listen,” he said, grabbing another napkin and dabbing at my face. “If that dope doesn’t know what he’s got in you, then he doesn’t deserve you. Not the other way around. And if you want to stay here, you’re welcome to. This is your home. I know you’re a big girl and you’ll have to figure out how to handle this situation yourself, but I’m going to insist on giving you two directives.”

  “Okay,” I muttered, wiping at my tears.

  “One,” he said, holding out a finger. “You will never, ever say that you have nothing to offer and that you don’t deserve someone. There is nobody in this world that you don’t deserve, do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Two.” He held up a second finger. “If that punk gives you one ounce of trouble, you tell me because I know people—”

  “George!” Mom yelled. “Don’t listen to him. Maybe this is a simple case of miscommunication. Tell Oliver how you feel. Put it on him to make the decision if he wants to be with you or Violet.”

  “He already picked me,” I said, remembering Ollie’s words. “He said he’d transfer to California if I wanted to go there.”

  They exchanged looks of confusion, having the silent conversation they’d had many times when I’d done something that baffled them.

  “I got scared.” There. I admitted it. “I was scared that he’d upend his entire plan for his life for me and then be disappointed. I told him he’d get bored of me and have regrets. Not to mention Violet would hate me.”

  “Well, that’s not nice of you to tell him how he’d feel, when he clearly loves you enough to change his path. And what little faith you have in your friendship with Violet.” Mom shook her head and tsked. “Miss Lovely New Jersey and you have all this low self-esteem. I’d have never guessed. You always seem so confident.”

  “I’m not when it comes to Oliver. What should I have done?” I asked, looking between them.

  Mom tilted her head, studying me as she pushed my hair over my shoulder. “Maybe you should have told him that you love him and that you choose him too.”

  I scoffed. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is that simple.” Dad stood and went back to the garbage. He lifted the bag out and dug around until he found my phone. Wiping it with a dishtowel, he handed it to me, grimacing. “Call him.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s over. He’s back with Vi. I have to get over it.”

  “Giving up is taking the easy way out,” Dad said, sitting back down at the table with us. “We don’t give up in this family.”

  I shrugged. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but believe me, it’s not the easy way out. I live with Violet. I’m going to have to see them all the time. Hell, she’ll probably ask me to be her maid of honor.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Mom put an arm around me. “We’re not disappointed in you, and we know it’s not easy. We support you in whatever you do. Right, George?” She gave my dad a death glare.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “I just hate to see my baby girl so sad, eating like a medieval king and swinging around turkey legs. You’ve been a fighter all your life. I’m not sure why you aren’t fighting now.”

  I tried to hide my smile at his turkey comment. “Because even if I fight, Daddy, there’s no prize this time. I end up heartbroken either way. I lose Ollie, or I lose Violet.” He shook his head. My mother glared at him, but I knew I was right. “How about this? I am going to fight—for myself. I’m going to get over these dumb feelings for Ollie and try to be a friend to Violet, and soon I’ll be in California. Maybe I can stay here for a while?”

  After a long sigh, my mother offered a tight-lipped grin. “We love you. Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

  I wrapped an arm around each of them and hugged them to me. “I love you both too.”

  * * *

  Oliver

  Violet came to my parents’ house on Wednesday night, but I’d told her that I wanted us to stay in our respective homes for the weekend. I didn’t want to sleep with her and needed some space to figure out what to do. She didn’t seem thrilled, but she didn’t object either.

  We always had Thanksgiving Day catered. Free for the day, my parents and I woke up at the crack of dawn and headed to the Macy’s parade like we did every year. We walked the ten or so blocks to Midtown to the firm’s bleacher seats in the main viewing area. My phone buzzed with a text from Violet.

  Violet: Have a great time at the parade! I’ll come later with pie.

  Every year, Violet brought a pie for Thanksgiving night dessert. After, we’d go out to see our high school friends at the bar.

  I wasn’t in the mood for pie. Or our high school crowd.

  It took her until the end of the parade, but eventually my mom picked up on my mood, like she always did. As we were walking home afterward, she asked me what was up.

  “You don’t seem like yourself lately.” She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. “What’s going on with you?”

  I wanted to tell her, but I wasn’t sure I wanted a lecture. At my surprise-not-so-surprise dinner the night before, they’d all gushed about how great Vi and I were together and how it “seemed natural” that we would be at Cambridge the next year. “I’m fine, Ma. Really.”

  The weight of her stare judged me. “You’re lying.”

  I scooted a few steps forward to walk with Dad instead. He never asked me the personal questions my mother did, although I did risk another when-I-was-at-Harvard story.

  Back at home, we had dinner, and then Vi came over with her pie. My parents were thrilled. I tried to be, but I couldn’t get Taryn out of my mind.

  I wondered if she’d watched the parade on television. I wondered what she did for Thanksgiving. If she had family around her, or just her parents. I wondered if she got dressed up or if she lay around in sweats all day. Mostly, I wondered if she missed me the way I missed her.

  My mother finally asked again. I knew she w
ould. She sat next to me on the couch while Violet and Dad ate pie in the kitchen.

  “You know,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re a grown man now. I get it. But you still have your mom. Always.” She reached for my hand and whispered, “What’s going on with you?”

  I debated making an excuse but gave her a vague rendition of the truth instead. “I’m not sure I want to get back together with Violet.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded deliberately. “Then don’t.”

  “I love her. I’m just confused. And…” I knew this one would bother her more. “I’m not sure about law school.”

  Mom wrapped an arm around me, but she was so tiny it hardly reached across my back. She sighed. “I kind of figured.”

  I whispered so Violet and Dad couldn’t hear. “I don’t want to hurt you and Dad. I know how much you want me to go.”

  “Let me ask you something.” Taking my hands in hers, she turned on the couch to face me. “Do you think I’ve spent the last twenty-one years meddling in your life and obsessing over every little thing you’ve done so that you could end up unhappy?”

  I scoffed, and she continued, “All I’ve ever wanted for you was to be yourself, follow your dreams. If your dream isn’t the same as your father’s and mine, then that’s fine. And if you’re dream isn’t Violet, then that’s fine too.”

  “I’m not saying that. But when she was gone, I…” I couldn’t tell my mother that I’d been with Taryn.

  “Remember what I said about meddling and obsessing? I saw you at the charity ball, noticed when you took the dance floor and when you left. Your car was in our spot in the garage for almost four days, and you didn’t text me.” She laughed. “I may be a lawyer at one of the biggest firms in Manhattan, but I’ve never been as good at that as I am at mothering. I’m a professional, Oliver Randall Stoneridge. I have the sixth sense when it comes to you. I knew something was up when you wanted to go to the Parson House event, and it was easy to figure out what that was as soon as I saw your expression as you watched Miss Lovely New Jersey.”

  “Fuck, Ma. You’re like a witch.” I pulled her shoulders to me and kissed the top of her head. “A good witch.”

  She huffed. “I’m more like an Oracle of Wisdom.”

  “Oh jeez,” I started. “Then, Oracle…what do I do?”

  Smiling up at me, she touched my cheek. “You be kind and honest, patient and empathetic, and respectful of others. All the things I tried to teach you when you were little apply to this situation and every situation. Kindness. Empathy. Respect. Then you follow your heart, baby. Always.”

  I embraced her and smelled her perfume—the same scent she’d been wearing since I was a little kid. Her words filled me with hope and confidence, like they always did. “I love you, Ma.”

  She sniffled against my shirt. “Love you too.”

  We joined Violet and Dad for pie. I didn’t go out with Violet to the high school reunion. Instead, I told her I was tired and would walk her the block to her family’s home.

  On her doorstep, she kissed my cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, Oliver.”

  I pulled her into a hug. “It’s nice to have you back, Violet.”

  After I dragged ass home, I excused myself for the night and texted Taryn.

  Me: Thinking about you. Hope you had a nice day.

  I’d fallen into a turkey coma and passed out on the couch in my room by the time her ringtone sounded close to midnight. I grabbed it and tapped the message.

  Taryn: Thanks. I’m probably going to commute for a while. I talked to Vi. Not sure if she told you.

  “No,” I whispered to the dark room. Then I sat up and looked down at the phone. I didn’t know what to say, so that’s what I texted.

  Me: I don’t know what to say.

  Taryn: You don’t have to say anything. Just wanted you to know.

  I stuck with my honest approach.

  Me: Makes me so fucking sad, Tar.

  The dots that indicated she was replying seemed to blink forever. Then they stopped. Then they started again. Felt like she was writing a damn novel, deleting it, and then starting over. Finally, her text came through.

  Taryn: Me too. Goodnight, Ollie.

  Then that was it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Taryn

  I stayed home and commuted to classes for the rest of November, but in early December, Grant started to get on my case about working the holidays.

  He called my cell to ask me to take more hours. I’d tried to find a polite way to say no, but he was insistent. “Taryn, you know in retail we need all-hands-on-deck until winter break.”

  The money wouldn’t hurt. I hadn’t been paying much attention to finals anyway, and I had gotten my dumb communications paper finished during my time at home with my parents.

  “Fine,” I’d told him. “Hook me up with all the hours.”

  “Thanks,” he’d said. “Maybe we can get a drink one night after work.”

  I’d stopped the words, “Don’t push it,” from leaving my lips and instead said, “Maybe.”

  After kissing my parents goodbye, I took the bus and the train back to NJU and walked toward Mill Street to finish out the semester. I can do this, I told myself with each step toward the apartment. I missed my parents’ house already. God knew I didn’t want to be around Violet and Oliver, especially during the holiday season.

  Oliver.

  Damn I missed him. Sometimes I would sit in class and remember our crazy weekend. Little things, like how his bottom lip felt between my teeth or the way he moaned my name while he came inside of me. Just thinking about it made my body spark to life. Then it kind of pissed me off though.

  I knew it was my fault we weren’t together, but the fact that he was letting Violet back into his life aggravated me. She called and texted me about all the things they were doing and how they were “rebuilding” their relationship. Barf. Hadn’t our time affected him at all? How could he be across the hall from where we’d spent our nights and not feel even half of the desperation that I felt?

  Even though it would be hard to be around them, I was strong enough to get through it. They shouldn’t stop me from living my life, and right now, my life consisted of finishing the semester and getting in hours at the store. So I went back.

  But I hated everything.

  When I reached the metal staircase in the alley, I didn’t look at the spots where Ollie and I had kissed. I even skipped the stair I’d sat on when we’d made out, him between my legs and kissing me like a madman. I said a silent prayer. Please don’t let him be here. Please don’t let him be here.

  I unlocked the door and found Violet on the couch. She held a pillow over her body and stared at the television. When she looked my way, she had tears in her eyes. “Hey,” she muttered.

  With a glance around to confirm she was alone, I threw down my bag and walked toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and pointed at the television. No ring on her finger yet. “The Christmas movies started. I…can’t.” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

  On the screen, a royal looking dude in a crown was on one knee proposing to a regular-looking lady. The lady said no and stomped away.

  “Oh, Violet.” I sat down and put an arm around her tiny shoulders. “You know these movies always make you cry. Why do you do this to yourself?” Every year since I’d met her, she’d obsess over these dumbass Christmas movies, and the night would end with tissues everywhere. I’d have to counsel her back to reality.

  “Just watch,” she said. “Please?”

  With a sigh, I settled back on the couch. She rested her head on my shoulder and caught me up with the plot. “And there’s a baby, but he doesn’t know, and...” She sniffled. “The baby needs a transfusion, or he’ll die by Christmas...” She sniffled again. “And she’s going to tell him now.”

  I rolled my eyes. “For the love of Christ.” B
ut I had to admit slowing down and watching the movie kind of gave me all the feels. Soon, I was crying too.

  “I hate you,” I told Violet as I wiped my eyes with the last tissue in the box. “Thank God the baby is okay.”

  “See? I’ve been trying to tell you that you have to watch these—”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll never watch another one again.” I laughed through my tears.

  She giggled too. “I’m glad you’re back. It’s lonely here without you.”

  I swallowed hard and feigned surprise. “Thought you and Ollie could use some privacy, with your rebuilding of the relationship and all.”

  She shook her head. “He hasn’t been around much.”

  “But weren’t things going great at Thanksgiving?” I gulped down the lump in my throat. “The picture of the ring?”

  Pouting, she looked at me with tears in her eyes, not from the movie this time. “Apparently not until Christmas. I’m in a holding pattern. I’m just here, waiting. I think he’s trying to trust that I really do want to be with him.”

  A million thoughts ran through my mind. I didn’t know how to feel or what to say since Vi was waiting for my response. I ended up blurting, “Fucking Oliver.” The man was so damn confusing.

  “He’s coming over tonight. Should be here any minute.”

  My cheeks warmed and I stood up. “Oh, well, I can go to Rachel’s.”

  “No, you don’t have to. I need you, Taryn, and you keep running away.”

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to be there anymore. It wasn’t fair to anyone. I picked up my bag. “All packed already anyway. You talk to Oliver. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Why are you acting so weird?”

  “Weird? Me?” I touched my chest. “I’m not being weird.”

  “Now that I think about it, he’s acting weird whenever I mention you too.” She tilted her chin. “Did you two fight while I was gone?”

  I took a deep breath and then sputtered out an odd sound. “No, I mean, he’s annoying and all, but—”