“It is the actual best,” Cliff replies as zealously as he always speaks of Del’s guacamole.
“Huh. From a wing place, you say?”
“I say. It sends their nachos straight over the top, and those things are amazing all by themselves.”
I walk out of earshot and back to our booth. Mrs. Del stops by once she’s done talking to other customers, and I get our order put in.
Cliff must be getting along well with the girl—even better than I was—because their laughter is already filling up the dining room.
It’s a great sound.
Going back to killing time on my phone, I leave them to their conversation.
But after a short minute, new noise gets my attention. I look up and find Cliff walking the girl over to our booth, a noticeable spring in his step. They’re wearing the same glowing smile.
I don’t think he has ever smiled quite like that before.
“Hey, Beck, this is Noelle!” he tells me. “Is it cool if she joins us for our nacho feast? Her best friend just bailed on their early dinner plans.”
Noelle gives me an easy wave and lets out a matching laugh—and then sends an almost shy glance to my best friend, as if she likes him already.
Yeah, the happiness radiating from him is definitely unlike anything I’ve ever seen from him before. I think it’s safe to say he already likes her too.
Well, how about that?
“Yeah, of course you can join us,” I tell her. “I’m sorry about your plans.”
Cliff slides into the seat he was in earlier, but his eyes don’t leave Noelle for a second. “Yeah, and for your spilled water too! That towel helped some, though, huh?”
She’s nodding and sitting next to him, smiling between us but mostly at him, still pink in the cheeks. “Oh, it’s okay! It’s all—” she chuckles and tucks back some of the wispy hair near her ears, “—it’s all okay. I promise.”
Cliff’s grin is so sincerely delighted, there’s no way I can keep from grinning myself.
Even though it’s probably too early to tell, I dare to hope he’s found something special here, out of the blue, on this day that hadn’t been going great for him so far.
God knows he has earned it.
- 4 -
N O E L L E
now
On the second morning after Valentine’s Day, it’s an incredibly bittersweet thing that I wake up feeling better still than yesterday—that my mood isn’t merely acceptable, but that it’s back to pretty much being fine.
On one hand, I don’t want to feel fine waking up without Cliff.
On the other hand, there’s no helping the relief of not being overwhelmed with heartache as soon as I come into consciousness.
I still miss him and I always will, but the pain is a lot less exhausting when it only lurks here and there, rather than around every single corner. It’s manageable when it isn’t beating down like the rain I can hear outside my window and on the roof.
This is no great revelation, I guess. There’s no such thing as an onslaught that isn’t overwhelming, regardless of what it is a person is being attacked by.
These thoughts are interrupted by movement in my peripheral vision. I look over and find Theodora waddling into my storm-darkened room, her arms full of stuffed animals.
Smiling, I greet her in a slight rasp. “Hey, little angel. Whatcha doing?”
“Coming to snuggle. I missed you.”
Oh, my heart.
“Aw, I missed you too.” I scoot over to free up some space on the bed. “Come here.”
She drops her animals down, and I scooch Bee, Fifi, and Pumpkin out of the way so she can climb up. Then we work on getting her cozy under the blanket with me—including, of course, making the stuffed animals cozy as well.
I love the way she burrows into me.
No, I more than love it. I’m not sure there’s a word that surpasses ‘love’ in meaning, and I sure can’t come up with anything myself, but I feel it. All the way to my soul is where Theo’s cuddles reach, warm and wonderful, along with all the rest of her.
I wrap her up in my arms and give her a gentle squeeze. She lets out a giggle.
She’s fun to talk to (and very fun to tickle), but I decide to spend this first minute just holding her.
The rain outside is steady. The thunder that rumbles is light. Theo is the most comfortable bundle of person ever.
But when I finally murmur, “What does your tummy want for breakfast?” I’m met with silence.
I guess I’ve spent too long not engaging her; a glance down at her confirms she has fallen back asleep.
Precious.
I close my eyes…and press my lips together against a laugh when she starts to gently snore.
In an attempt to keep from accidentally disturbing her, I scramble for other things to focus on. Beckett comes to mind—namely, him laughing at me snoring the other night on the phone.
That was a great call we shared, in substance and in familiarity.
Over recent months, I had tried not to miss talking to him like that because his reason for stopping made all the sense in the world. Still, it was hard. No way would I insist on resuming, obviously; I respected what he was trying to do for Jenna. I just dealt with it the best I could, same as with everything else.
I’m so happy we have it back.
The thought has me sighing.
Part of me still feels bad about it. Still feels sad for Beckett that he and Jenna had to end like they did. No matter what he says, I feel a certain amount of responsibility.
Still, I am happy, and I believe him when he says he is too.
He had told me, ‘You and Theodora are my sword and shield,’ and I believed it so much.
And during our time together yesterday, I had no trouble seeing his contentedness in person. He was very much himself. In some ways, he seemed more like himself than he has over these last several months, though I couldn’t really pinpoint the changes—it’s not like he had been acting strangely or anything while he was with Jenna. Even unexpectedly seeing her didn’t bother him.
The pictures I snapped of him and Theo wearing the clearance Valentine’s stuff were so funny that I made one the lock screen image on my phone. And the taco salads he requested for his thank-you dinner were so good that he fell asleep on the couch after we ate; Finding Nemo hadn’t been on five whole minutes before he was out.
He apologized for it later, once he was back at home and we were on the phone again. With his voice full of regret, he said he felt like he wasted precious time with us.
It warmed my heart.
“It doesn’t matter what any of us are ever doing, Beck,” I told him. “Being with each other is never a waste of time.”
The breath of a laugh I heard over the line was soft, but somehow, I knew he was grinning.
I was disappointed to be unable to see it.
I had to settle for imagining it…
…and I find myself doing so now…
…and it nudges my comfort meter up, up, up…
…and I doze off again too.
When I awaken later, Theo is stirring. I open my eyes enough to brush at her soft hair, which is cutely crazy from our snuggling.
“I want some bacon,” she tells me.
“Mmm,” I hum in agreement. “So do I.”
We get up and start making bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast—well, brunch, since it’s late in the morning now.
And I wonder what Beckett is up to on this dreary Sunday.
After Theo gulps down some apple juice, she asks, “Mommy, can Uncle Beck come over again today?”
Looks like we’re on the same page.
“I’ll have to see what he’s doing,” I say. “He might have plans. Or he might just feel like sitting at home.”
“He can sit at home with us,” she suggests hopefully.
I chuckle and check a crisping piece of bacon. “Maybe so. I’ll ask him.”
“Can I do it?” She se
ts her cup down on the very edge of the counter next to me. “Can I FaceTime him?”
I scoot the juice safely out of the fall risk zone, then double-check that the bacon is doing okay. It is, so I grab my phone. “No, we can’t FaceTime him, ‘cause he could be busy. But I’ll take a video of you asking him, how about that?”
This is reasonable, she decides. I start up the video and give her the go-ahead.
“Do you wanna come over and see us again?” she asks, clasping her little hands together. A moment later, she unclasps them and points at the bacon. “We’re making breakfast! Please come eat breakfast with us and be with us all day!”
Laughing lightly, I interject, “Well, breakfast may be over before he gets here, if he can come. And he probably couldn’t stay all day.”
“Oh. Well, just come over, Uncle Beck, ‘cause—”
She gasps as her grab for her cup goes awry. Apple juice sloshes across the counter.
“Oops!” I end the video and pull a dish towel off the handle at the front of the oven. While I sop up the mess with one hand, I send the video to Beckett with the other.
Theo reaches for a towel, too, like she’s going to help me. Then she gasps again and scurries away. “Uh oh! I forgot to bring my aminals to breakfast!”
The abrupt shift in her focus is funny. “Uh oh! Your animals!”
By the time my phone is dinging with incoming messages, I’ve cleaned up the juice, ensured no sticky residue will be left behind, and kept the bacon from burning.
BECKETT: Omg LOL
BECKETT: That is so your child and I love it
BECKETT: Absolutely I’ll come over, but I won’t devour you guys’ breakfast. How about an hour from now?
It takes me a moment to figure out what his second message is about. When I do, a nostalgic smile overtakes me.
I made quite a mess with my spilled water that day at Wings by Del (and ended up spending quite a long time in those wet clothes), but if I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Again and again, I thanked Ceceli for not being able to meet up with me like we planned. Initially, I couldn’t believe she refused to leave her house just because a spider was near the front door, but I got over it quickly once I started talking to Cliff and Beckett.
I knew even before our food came out of the kitchen that my life had been changed. That I had been set on a new path out of nowhere.
I still remember a lot about that day.
Definitely remember the moment I realized how badly I wanted to know Cliff.
I’d already appreciated his and his friend’s help, already thought they were good-looking and warm in their different ways, already enjoyed the small talk I exchanged with each of them at my table. And not once but twice did Cliff offer to find me another towel if I needed one—he swore it would be no trouble, and those green eyes meant it.
But what truly hooked me was the way he answered when I asked how his day was going.
There was a pause as he looked at me and really soaked up my question.
“It took a dive earlier,” he replied honestly. “I wound up seeing my dad, and I hate when that happens.”
When I prompted him, he described how his parents’ latest issue with him was that he’d chosen to go to college for some kind of career in social work. They didn’t believe that was important—in fact, they looked down on it.
“They want me to be money-successful, not happy-successful,” he said. “And I’ve managed to dodge my dad a lot lately, but not today. He found out I was gonna take some groceries to my grandma, and he showed up at her house. Spent twenty minutes railing me for setting myself up for a pathetic future and embarrassing him and spitting on all the opportunities he’s given me.”
I hadn’t expected Cliff to give a response so real. So unjustly real. All I could return was a soft and sympathetic, “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
But he slanted a smile at me and spoke with more of his warmth, plus sudden optimism. “Thank you, but don’t be. Everything will turn out great—by my standards, not his, because this is my life. I’ve decided I don’t need his permission to love my life or myself, you know? Just ‘cause he’s miserable on the inside doesn’t mean I have to be.”
God, I was in awe of him so quickly in so many ways.
He wasn’t just good-looking anymore. He was gorgeous.
Right after that, I introduced myself. With a shining smile, he did the same. Then he learned Ceceli had canceled on me, and he invited me to eat with him and Beckett instead of leaving. Breathless, I accepted because there wasn’t a speck of disinterest in my mind.
It was so warm in the restaurant, but I loved sitting next to Cliff. We bemoaned being the same age but not having met in school growing up; Ceceli and I lived in a different district from the guys. And I haven’t forgotten how I felt when he clearly smiled at me from the heart, or how much I liked the open way he talked to me and to his friend—how well he listened when we talked. Or how genuinely humiliated he was when I tried the hyped-up nachos for the first time only for the guacamole to be rather ordinary. It came to light that Del was out of the special seasoning he normally used for it.
When I assured Cliff it was fine, he scrubbed his fingers through his short gold-blond hair and said, “No, I promised you the best guac and you didn’t get it. What if you never trust me with anything ever again?”
I laughed, and so did Beckett. It took a few moments for Cliff to join in, but he ultimately did.
We won each other’s heart with so much ease. I hadn’t known anything could be so easy, which is saying something since I’d been blessed with a good life and a caring family, unlike both of those boys. In general, things weren’t exactly hard for me in the first place.
Could that really happen again? wonders a quiet, curious voice in my head. Could I really let someone else in with so little effort?
No. Not after what I’ve been through.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, unable to help thinking back on how Ceceli and my parents have been gently mentioning me trying to date again. The customer from work still doesn’t pique my interest, but…well, what if he had? What if someone does next week or in a month? What if it does feel easy in some ways—and, equally important, what if it’s a struggle? What the hell is someone like me supposed to do with any of that stuff?
On top of sounding sad, it also sounds scary. Overwhelming.
I decide not to think any more about it.
After I take the bacon off the heat, I tell Beckett that him coming over in an hour will be great.
Even the simple thought of him calms the slight shake that has crept into me, calms the weird nervousness I feel.
I’m settled even more when he confirms that he’ll be here soon and he’ll be careful on the drive.
I look forward to his company. These days, he and Theo already individually know how to improve my moods; when they’re together, my sorrow and anxiety really don’t stand a chance.
With a heartened nod, I get ready to scramble some eggs.
And, of course, I have to smile at how excited Theo gets when she hears her video invitation won Beckett over—with great ease, indeed.
—
He arrives with rain-dampened brown hair, the coat he got cleaned yesterday morning, and a cheerful smile. Theo is in the bathroom at the moment, so he and I have time to greet each other before she barrels into his arms and commandeers his attention.
“I’m so sorry you got rained on,” I say as I peer out into the deluge. My carport only holds one vehicle, so guests have to park in the driveway, and the distance from it to the front hall seems awfully long on days like today. Grimacing, I shut and lock the door. “And it’s freezing out there.”
“Yeah, it’s unpleasant weather, but I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” I turn and see him pulling his coat off. After he hangs it on one of the hooks on the wall, he finger-combs a fallen piece of hair back from his eyes, then smiles even more cheerfully. “Thanks for i
nviting me over. This is already way better than what I was doing before, which was precisely not shit.”
I chortle. “Really?”
“Mmhmm. Trying not to fall back asleep. That’s it.”
“Ooh. Theo and I did fall back asleep earlier. She came and got in bed with me and snuggled us to sleep in, like, thirty seconds.”
His shoulders slump, like the idea is almost too comforting to handle. “Wow. I can’t fathom how either of you got up from that.”
“Bacon,” I explain with a nod.
Now he laughs. “Oh, bacon! It all makes sense!”
“Yeah!”
He comes toward me. “Whoops, speaking of breakfast….” I look down as he lifts a hand to the hair falling over my left shoulder. “You’re wearing scrambled egg.”
“Oh.” His tug of the food from my hair is so light that it almost gets a shiver out of me. I turn up a palm, and he drops the piece of egg into it. “Thank you. Who knows when I would’ve noticed that.”
“No problem.” He snorts into more laughter. “I don’t need to check for syrup, too, do I?”
I grin. It’s a widely-known fact that both Theo and I are terrible about getting syrup in our hair when we eat pancakes, even if we take the precaution of pulling our hair up and out of the way. I never know how it happens.
“No, we didn’t go anywhere near syrup this time,” I assure him.
“Smart!”
The sound of the toilet flushing reaches us from down the hall, and then the bathroom door is being flung open.
“Uncle Beck!” Theo cheers as she comes running.
“The-o-dor-a! Hey, did you wash your hands?”
She screeches to a halt, then whirls around to go back to the bathroom.
I give him an appreciative thumbs-up. Then I offer, “Want some peppermint hot chocolate?” even though I’m sure he does. He always does.
He gives an emphatic yes. We head to the kitchen so I can see to that and throw away this bit of scrambled egg.
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