Authors: Lauren Gilley
He had to give her credit for being blunt. And he hated to admit that, in that way, she reminded him of his sisters.
“Okay then.” He felt a genuine, unrestrained smile tugging at his mouth. “I will officially turn off the charm.”
She dipped her head in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“And in the interest of being honest, that guy your friend wants to set you up with? He’s married.”
Her brows lifted and she didn’t look disappointed.
“He’s my brother-in-law.”
“Really?” She reached for her slice of pizza again. “How’d you guys manage to fly that under the radar?”
Just like that, she’d chucked their awkward conversation over her shoulder and seemed to have no intention of leaving now that she’d clearly established nothing was going to happen between them.
He wanted to be disappointed, but stronger than that was the sense that somewhere in his cold little heart, he’d found a kernel of respect for the girl who told a guy “no” to his face and then stuck around for conversation. Like that stellar figure of hers, it wasn’t something he saw much of anymore.
**
Each minute weighed a hundred pounds as they waited. For Jo, the only thing heavier was the occasional touch of Tam’s eyes as they blasted over her, loaded with accusation and denial, stress and terror. She couldn’t remember him ever looking at her this way, and as she stared at the six pregnancy test sticks on the bathroom counter, she could feel his resentment like a physical entity sitting on the edge of the bathtub between them.
Their faces were grim, she knew, because Randy and Beth had done double takes as they passed through the kitchen, the Walgreens bag stuffed down in Jo’s purse. “What’s the matter?” Beth had asked, and Jo had felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes because the thing she didn’t understand was this cool silence coming off Tam. They weren’t teenagers anymore; a plus sign on one of those sticks wouldn’t hasten the urgency of some forbidden affair. They were married, and even if she knew the timing was terrible, this was what they’d both hoped for in the future…wasn’t it? Little black-haired, blue-eyed bouncing pieces of the two of them? But Tam was, in a startling and clear way that didn’t need saying, angry with her, and that’s what was the matter.
The timer went off on his phone with a series of electronic beeps and he reached to silence it. “Check ‘em,” was all he said, and the tone of his voice set her hands to quivering as she got to her feet and stepped toward the counter.
Let them be negative
, she prayed in a timid, ashamed internal voice. She didn’t want a husband who hated her, even if it meant giving this up.
But six positive test sticks stared up at her and all the breath left her lungs in a shattered rush. She glanced over her shoulder at Tam and didn’t want to tell him. He looked nothing like her friend, the man who told her she was incredible and who woke her up in the middle of the night with his hand sliding up her shirt. No, the man who stared at her now, his blue eyes flat, was the raging drunk who’d thrown himself at a rival in Ireland a year ago, the cold, unfeeling heartbreaker who’d left her standing up against her dorm building in the rain.
“You are, aren’t you?” he asked and it wasn’t really a question.
Jo swallowed around the ever expanding lump in her throat. “They’re all positive.”
“Great.” Goose bumps erupted down her arms as he got to his feet and moved past her to the door.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be
, she thought, chest aching with the urge – the need – to cry. She wanted his chest against her face and his arms around her when the tidal wave came, but that was looking less and less like an option.
She gave him a head start, put all the test sticks back in their boxes, trashed them, and wadded up a fistful of tissues to cover them in the wastebasket. Then she took a deep, useless breath and followed him down the hall to her – their – room. He was shirtless and barefoot already and was in the process of unbuckling his belt.
“Tam.”
He didn’t react and she stepped in and closed the door softly behind her, sealing them in, her back against the only exit.
“Tam, please talk to me.”
He stepped out of his jeans and tossed them over the back of her desk chair, the belt buckle clanging against the wood. In his boxers, he sat on the edge of the bed and dug under the pillow for his white wifebeater where she’d stowed it and her pajamas that morning. “What do you want me to say?” he asked like the last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation with her.
“I dunno.” A nervous, half-hysterical laugh bubbled out of her without warning. “Maybe you’d like to tell me you don’t hate my fucking guts for getting knocked up?”
The glare he shot her was awful. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Having a child
is
dramatic,” she fired back. She didn’t want to argue, but the defenses were coming up. She wasn’t going to let herself be painted a villain. “And it isn’t
my
fault. Pretty sure you were there too!”
“I didn’t say it was your fault!” he snapped, coming to his feet so fast her muscles jumped.
Tam caught himself, his eyes landed on her clenched fists and then lifted to her face, wide and full of apology. Ireland was the first and only time she’d ever felt apprehensive around him. Not afraid, not worried for her safety, just…cautious. Only in Ireland, and now.
He turned away from her and raked a hand back through his hair.
Jo felt a great, yawning pit open at the bottom of her stomach, the kind that wanted to swallow her whole. She’d never had a fairytale – had never wanted one – but the sudden knowledge that her own personal flavor of happy married life had come to an end was crushing. To know that her year of smiles and hand-holds under the table, the entangled nights and constant kisses were over left her feeling empty and raw. Tears filled her eyes and clogged up her throat. Each breath was more painful than the last.
“I’m sorry I said anything,” she said, and slipped out of the room before he could comment.
Jo took a long shower and then retreated to Mike’s old room. She listened to Jordan come home, his voice mingling with those of her parents. They came upstairs in an endless symphony of footfalls and doors closing, water running and toothpaste spitting. Long after the house grew quiet and darkness overtook it, she waited, but Tam never came, and she fell into a fitful, haunted sleep.
**
Ellie bent over the smooth, white cream cheese frosting covered red velvet cake in front of her and lifted her piping bag in what was now a familiar series of movements. She lacked Paige’s artistry – roses and leaves escaped her – but she could lay a nice thick stripe of icing around the top and bottom of the cake and pass it along to Paige for further detailing. It was almost midnight; both of them looked like ghosts, dusted in flour head to toe. Their fingers were cramping and the sweet smell of baked goods was almost nauseating, but Pop of Paige Cakes had received its largest order yet, and seeing as how Paige’s ability to pay her half of the utilities was directly tied to her baking, Ellie wasn’t opposed to the all-night bake-off. Especially not when she had a rather entertaining sequence of events replaying in her mind.
“Guess who I had dinner with,” she said once her friend’s monologue had come to an end.
Paige cracked an egg with a flourish, the inside of it landing in her bowl with a puff of flour and sugar mixture. “Johnny Depp.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Coach Walker.”
“Oh. You know, for a PE coach, he doesn’t totally suck. He kind of - ” Her sentence ended in an abrupt gasp and her huge, cornflower blue eyes came tearing up from her bowl. “Wait,
what
? You had
dinner
with him? You went on a
date
with our
teacher
?”
Ellie lowered her bag, shoulders grateful for the break. “Not a date,” she said firmly. “He was on a date and she bailed – probably because he flirts like a trained chimp – and my shift was over so I helped him out with the pizza. But I repeat,
not a date
.”
“Well that’s boring,” her friend said in a huff. “Only you could turn a possible dangerous liaison into something boring.”
“’Dangerous liaison’?” Ellie chuckled. “Really?”
Paige shrugged. “He’s not my type, you know - ”
“I know.”
“- but he’s kinda cute and he’s older, our teacher…that coulda been exciting, you know.”
“I don’t want exciting,” Ellie said, the same way she’d been saying it for months. She’d thought that’s what she’d wanted once upon a time: the thrill of waiting and wondering, the chase, the butterflies in her stomach and the jealousy of other girls eyeing her boyfriend. But it was funny the difference a year made, and now she craved stability and honesty.
“Ellie.” Paige heaved a dramatic sigh as she began whisking. “It has to be exciting. If it’s not, then you might as well be making out with your cousin.”
“Oh, Jesus,” she groaned.
“I mean, don’t you want the butterflies? Don’t you want to be so hot for a guy you can’t wait to get home?”
“Not if it’s a lie.” She picked up the piping bag again with a scowl, wanting to be done with this line of conversation. She didn’t know why she’d even brought up her impromptu dinner date. It wasn’t like she’d been thinking about Jordan Walker’s blue-green eyes or anything…
“See? This is exactly the kind of attitude that’s going to make you an old spinster with seventeen cats.”
“Paige.” Ellie didn’t intend to snap, but her voice was like a whip crack across the tiled island where they were working. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”
Paige, her blonde and pink locks tied up in a black bandana decorated with pink Jolly Rogers, tilted her head at a defiant angle, hand stilling on the whisk. “And you.” Her blue eyes were serious. “Don’t have unlimited time to wait on something perfect if you want a family, El. You know that. So don’t say ‘no’ to a good time if Coach Calves asks you out for real. Deal?”
She knew Paige was right – as physically painful as that truth was – just like she knew she was not at all attracted to her teacher. She
wasn’t
. But she glared at her friend and said, “Fine. Deal.”
5
“
I
t’s a shame that Walt and Gwen couldn’t make it,” Delta said with a proud little smile that said
see? I’m learning how to be a person who cares about this whole family
. She was wearing a tailored white blazer over a champagne colored blouse that probably cost more than the dining room table. Her dark hair was slicked back in the sleekest of ponytails and she looked more ready for work than a Saturday brunch with the family. But Jo had to give her credit; she was trying hard these days. Her efforts, even if misguided at times, were genuine. She was still painfully perfect to look at, polished and tidy and shallow, but she was here with the Walker clan, eating Beth’s quiche with dainty bites and trying to make conversation.
At the mention of Walt, Jo’s already dark mood plummeted. He would have loved this – seeing her and Tam on opposite ends of the table, a bristling, sharp silence hanging between them. He would have laughed in delight to know that Tam, like his father, was allergic to his own flesh and blood. Mom and Gwen had worked in tandem to try and get Jo back on speaking terms with her oldest brother, but Walt had made it clear – in his calm, irritating way – that he was completely right about the whole thing and that he was never going to accept Jo as a Wales.