Until Cece

by KD Robichaux

  At least stupid Mike had the decency to end our marriage face-to-face.

  “Get Mom and Chaz to put the rest of your stuff you didn’t bring here into storage at their place, and then put the doggies on a plane here. We’ll pick them up and surprise the girls,” I tell her, and she finally nods in agreement.

  “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind. They’re about forty pounds a piece, and they snore. And fart. A lot,” she warns, and I giggle.

  “So it’ll just be like having two miniature Mikes back in the house. Whatever. At least we won’t have to worry about Mercury and Retro putting their dicks in other bitches.” I snort.

  “I mean… they’re girls, but yeah,” she reminds me.

  “Oh yeah. Oh my God, there will be seven girls up in the hoooouse!” I whoop, and Mia cackles before shushing me again.

  “I’m going to see how much it’s gonna cost for my dogs’ plane tickets. You…. I don’t know. You go take a bath or something, ya crazy girl. I love you, sis.”

  I point at her with my now empty glass. “I…” Hiccup. “Love you too.”

  One month later

  “I just got the call! They said I got the job!” Mia tells me, and while there’s excitement in her voice and a smile on her face, I can’t help but feel completely guilty over the fact that she’s now getting a job here in Tennessee instead of moving back to Montana to continue with her work as a CNA.

  It’s basically a game of freaking Jumanji in order to get her CNA license transferred from Montana to Tennessee, so she decided to just find another job in the meantime, and like me, pickings were slim. And tonight, she just found out she got the job at the same dealership I applied at two months ago. They had called me back then to offer me an interview, but by then I was already in love with Winston’s and the people I work with, so I turned the offer down.

  “And the first thing we’re going to do is trade in your expensive-ass Tahoe and get you something with much lower monthly payments,” she tells me, and that actually makes me perk up.

  “Mia, you’re a fucking genius,” I reply, sitting up straighter.

  “And with me as an employee, I’m sure there’ll be some kind of discount we can get. My new boss, Ken, seems totally cool.”

  “Not to mention you can get your own car using the money Chaz got from selling yours in Montana,” I add, eyeing her and trying to keep the guilt at bay over that too. She sold her car without telling me in order to help pay the bills around here. When Mom mentioned something about it in a phone call, I ripped my little sister a new one. I had no idea we had depleted her savings that much. She made it sound like it was no big deal, that she had plenty to spare.

  My sister fibbed.

  As soon as I found out, I made her promise not to touch any more of the money she got for selling it. And with a short conversation with Stephanie and Winston about our situation, we got my schedule handled in a way to where I could be home with the girls on the days Mia would work. And it actually worked out perfectly, because most of Mia’s hours would be while the girls are at school anyway.

  We cancelled cable, keeping only our Netflix account. My gym membership is long gone. No more makeup box or workout clothes subscriptions. No more lawncare—we do that ourselves. No more shopping just for fun. Grocery shopping is done online on free pickup days, which saves a ton of money since we aren’t roaming the aisles and grabbing things just because they look good. It’s always done with a meal plan in place and only ingredients bought for each meal. Store brand, not name brand.

  I bring dinner home with me on the days I work the lunch shift, Winston whipping something up for the five of us, even when I told him it isn’t necessary. I told him early on that I didn’t want to burden him, and that I felt bad for taking his charity. He very quickly shot that notion down, looking downright heated that him feeding me was anything but charity. I could’ve sworn he mumbled something about taking care of what’s his, but I had to have been imagining it.

  We’ve gotten it down to where our only monthly bills are the mortgage, utilities, insurance, and my Tahoe, and still, the half Mike has dropped down to paying and what I’m making at the restaurant just wasn’t enough to cover everything, so we were dipping into my sister’s savings with the promise I’d someday pay her back.

  Now that her savings are completely gone, we had no other choice but for her to get a job. Hence the overwhelming sense of guilt that’s eating away at me, because not only is my life a dumpster fire, but now I’ve dragged my sister into the flames along with me.

  “The Tahoe will be a big chunk we can stop worrying about. A $700 note is absolutely ridiculous when it’s a car you don’t even want and can much less afford,” she tells me, and I nod.

  “I never wanted the damn thing to begin with. I’d be much happier with a minivan. I have no shame. Push a button and my freaking trunk opens? That’s way cooler to me than saying I drive a ‘sports utility vehicle.’ Um, okay, Karen. You going off-roading to a deer lease anytime soon? No. You’re driving to the fucking esthetician to refresh your Botox, so calm down. Shit.” I roll my eyes but then grin when Mia lets out a fit of giggles.

  “I saw some pretty nice-looking minivans while I was there doing the interview. We’ll get you hooked up, sis,” she assures, and we high-five.

  One month later

  “Click it.”

  “But we’re already struggling money-wise, and it’s not like I have a shitload of extra time on my hands to be wasting more on—”

  “Click the goddamn button, Cece. We’ve already talked about this,” Mia growls, and I scoff, my eyes widening.

  “Ugh, when did you get so freaking bossy? Fine.” I click the mouse, in which the arrow on the computer screen is hovering over the Submit button on an application.

  “And congratulations, sis. You’ve just applied for college. I’m so proud,” she mock-sobs, wiping away fake tears, and I swat at her.

  “Shut up. We don’t even know if they’ll accept me.” I shake my head, and she laughs.

  “It’s a community college, not an Ivy League university. You’ll get in. And most of the tuition is covered with grants and that scholarship money you won for that essay you wrote. Including the links to your Pinterest and a PowerPoint presentation on your different homemaker tips and tricks was pure genius,” she replies.

  “Ugh, it sucks having to start all the way from the bottom with stupid core classes. I thought I’d never have to step foot inside another math classroom for the rest of my life. Oh how the mighty have fallen.” I pout, my head coming down to bang on top of my arm resting on the kitchen island.

  “Yeah, yeah, but think how much fun you’ll have in the other ones. Sociology? Psychology? You’ll love that stuff. And if you’re lucky, you might have some professors who have the ability to actually make you like subjects you hated before. I absolutely detested History in high school, but my teacher in college had a way of explaining things that made you sit on the edge of your seat waiting to hear what happened next,” she tells me, and I sit up and narrow my eyes on her.

  “Wasn’t it your History professor in college you had a massive crush on?”

  She waves away my words. “Pish posh. That’s besides the point. Yeah, he was hot, but not even his good looks could’ve made World Civilizations interesting without his storytelling abilities.”

  “If you say so. But I’m sure there’s nothing that could make me like math.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know it’s a lie. There is one thing, or person rather, who would make me enjoy any subject.

  And that person just so happens to be my boss.

  Too bad it’s not units of measurement for cooking I’ll be having to learn in school, but stupid College Algebra. Ugh.

  A month after that

  “You made that?”

  The astonishment in Steph’s voice makes me blush. “Yeah.”

  She takes my phone out of my hand and zooms the picture. “Could you like… make it agai
n, only rainbow?”

  I tilt my head. “I can make it anything you can think of.”

  “Make what anything you can think of?” Winston’s deep voice comes up from behind me at the bar, and my nipples immediately go erect, like they always do the moment I hear his timbre for the first time each shift I work and it sends a skitter of chills across my skin.

  I glance at him over my shoulder then nudge my chin at my phone still in Steph’s hand. “A wreath.”

  “A wreath? Like for Christmas?” he prompts.

  Steph shakes her head. “Not just for Christmas. She makes them custom herself and can do any holiday or theme. Check this out. It’s one she did for her kids’ classroom in their school colors.”

  I shrug. “I do it for their teachers each year for their birthdays.”

  Stephanie looks up at me. “How much does it cost in materials?”

  I bite my lip and look upward, doing the calculations in my head. “With the wreath form, all the ribbon, the centerpiece, and everything? About forty bucks, give or take.”

  “I’ll pay you $80 for this same size, rainbow ribbon, with some sort of Pride centerpiece,” she tells me, and my eyebrows shoot up my forehead.

  “Are you serious? Girl, I’d do it just for the cost of materia—”

  “No way.” She shakes her head. “This is gorgeous, and you deserve to be paid for your time and effort. Eighty bucks. Can you have it done by next week for my girlfriend’s birthday?”

  “Of course.” I nod, and I watch as she pulls her wallet out of her crossbody bag she has slung around her, since she’s on her way out the door after finishing her shift.

  “Here’s the forty now to cover materials, and I’ll give you the other half on delivery. Deal?” she asks.

  I smile, looking down at the cash in my hand and then up at Steph. “Deal.”

  “Awesome. My girl is going to love it!” She looks over at Winston when he takes my phone out of her hand.

  “This is really beautiful, naekkeo,” he says, using the nickname he’s called me since day one, and my face heats further. “Do you have inventory, like on standby?”

  I shake my head. “No, I usually just make them as gifts. I do have the ones I use on my own front door for each holiday and season. You just watched my first sale.”

  He narrows his eyes as if deep in thought. “How about…” He glances back down at my phone. “Bring the ones you have for your house and line them up on that wall over there next to Steph’s girlfriend’s paintings. Put a little sign up saying you make them custom and that the ones on the wall are examples but not for sale. I can guarantee you’ll get some hits.”

  “Oh, for sure. Hannah has sold like eight paintings in the last four months since you let her display them, and they’re expensive as hell. These pretty babies going for eighty bucks a pop will fly like hot cakes. No doubt,” she agrees, and excitement fills me.

  Even if I could make a little bit of extra cash making the wreaths, that would be amazing. Not only because I could use the money, but because I would be making it doing something I absolutely love. I never thought to sell my wreaths before. But now that Steph and Winston are encouraging me to do it, I feel kind of silly that I hadn’t thought of it before.

  I smile up at Winston. “You sure it won’t look funny having a bunch of different holiday wreaths up on the wall? It might look silly with the green St. Patrick’s Day one hanging out next to my red, white, and blue 4th of July wreath, along with my bright-ass red Santa Claus one.”

  His eyes twinkle down at me, a softness taking over his face like it always does when he looks at me, making me feel all gooey inside. “It’ll be perfectly fine. No one will care nothing matches. They’ll be too blown away by how awesome each one is, and then their heads will explode with all the possibilities of what they’d choose for their own custom wreath. And then when they can’t decide on just one, you’ll make bank creating them out the wazoo.”

  “Shit, it might be smart to come up with a business plan before you set them all up, girl. Just let me know if you want help. When Hannah put it out there that she’d take commissioned pieces, she got super overwhelmed until she let me put some rules in place for her. Things like down payments so you don’t get fucked over. Agreements on how long you’ll hold a piece until they pick it up. Things like that,” she tells me, and I’m already nodding.

  “I’d appreciate that. I was great at organizing whenever it was just keeping up with my kids’ schedules, but now that I’m having to coordinate and manage me and my sister’s work schedules along with them, things are getting a little squirrely. I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  She grins with a nod. “Deal. I’ll come up with a little something and email it to you.”

  “Thanks, Steph,” I tell her, and she waves at us before she heads for the door. I turn to Winston, feeling suddenly shy. “And thank you, boss, for letting me display my wreaths. I feel kind of dumb I never thought about selling them before.”

  His knuckle touches beneath my chin, and I can’t stop the shudder that works its way through my entire body as he lifts my head to look into his eyes. He drops his hand, side-eyeing the room, probably to make sure no one saw him touching his employee like that. But then his gaze meets mine once more.

  “You are the farthest thing you can get from dumb, naekkeo. You are so smart, and creative, and talented that you take my breath away. I don’t know what you’ve been through that you don’t realize how fucking brilliant you are, but I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it,” he says low so only I can hear.

  And all I can do is nod.

  Another month later

  “But don’t you find it strange that he’s still living with his parents, sis?” Mia asks, looking over her shoulder to make sure the girls are still in their spots on the living room couch, sprawled with her dogs, Mercury and Retro, and watching Frozen 2 for the eight hundredth time. “I mean, it’s been five months.”

  “If he’s working as much as he always has, then he’s only at his parents’ for dinner and to sleep. He comes and gets the girls to hang out with them during the day on the weekends, which gives you and me the opportunity to work some great shifts, and then I have the peace of mind that they’re home to sleep in their beds each night, since there’s not enough room for all three of them to stay the night with their dad. I’m not going to question him about it, when things are going pretty okay for us right now,” I tell her.

  She eyes me, looking as if she’s choosing her words carefully. “You’re stuck, Cece. You’re in a holding pattern and aren’t allowing yourself to move forward in either direction, because you’re scared to make waves. You can’t live like this forever, sis. Has there even been any talk about… I don’t know, marriage counseling… divorce?”

  “No. Neither.” I shake my head. I try to think about my relationship with Mike as little as possible, choosing to focus all my efforts on the girls, work, school, and filling the extra time I might have by fulfilling wreath orders. Steph and Winston weren’t wrong. I get at least four orders a week and am loving it. I can only imagine what it’s going to be like when the holidays come around.

  “Do you even know what you want, sis? Have you allowed yourself to at least decide what you want to happen in the future?” she asks gently.

  I look down into my lap, twisting my paper towel in my hands anxiously before looking up at her. “Honestly, I have no idea. A part of me wants us to fix everything just so I can stop struggling, so things can go back to the way they were and I can pay you back for everything you’ve lost.”

  She leans closer and places her hand on my wringing ones, steadying them. “But what does the other part say? If you got a glimpse into the future and saw there was no more struggle and there was no more guilt over the sacrifices your family—me, that’s me, and kinda my job as your sister—has made, and you saw that Mike wasn’t a part of that future, would you be sad about it?”

  Her words immediatel
y make my eyebrows shoot upward, and I fall back against my seat, letting out a whoosh of air. “Wow.” I glance away, not really seeing anything with my eyes but the image that put inside my mind. “Um… well… just off the top of my head… no.” My eyes meet hers once again. “That thought doesn’t spark any kind of sad emotion in me, surprisingly. If I knew for a fact that things will work out good for me without Mike…” I shrug. “I don’t think I’d have any hesitation about letting him go completely.”

  I don’t mention that a blip of Winston’s handsome face crosses my mind at the end of that image of my future happiness.

  She smiles encouragingly. “And there’s your answer.”

  8

  Winston

  One month later

  “…fill the rest with pineapple juice, and garnish with a cherry,” Cece finishes, plopping a cherry on top of the drink she just made as part of her test I’m giving her. Completely comfortable in her role as a waitress for the past six months, she asked about becoming a bartender to help out with the schedule, since the duty was split between me and Steph. And since I needed to be in the kitchen during dinner, that didn’t give Steph much time off in the evenings. We had a bartender temporarily, but he quit after a month or so once he found a job in Nashville.

  “That was perfect. Now, the true test. Make me an Old Fashioned,” I tell her and smile as she eyes the ten drinks lining the bar that she’s made flawlessly. Anything Cece tries, she seems to be able to do it effortlessly. The woman is amazing and has no idea.

  “This seems kinda… wasteful, doesn’t it, boss?” She winces, the expression adorable on her pretty face.

  And is it sick of me to have to fight back a hard-on every time she calls me boss? It’s either that or Win, never Winston, at least not to my face. I overheard her telling Steph that no guy who’s as hot as me should have a geeky name like Winston. I was too busy floating on cloud nine that she thought I was hot to embarrass her that I heard her and point out that Winston is a family name, and my dad, in fact, is totally a geek. Hence why my family was loaded enough for me to have a trust fund large enough to open this restaurant.