A Measure of Love (8 page)

Riley frowned. Although the thought of leaving the godforsaken place filled him with nothing but joy, he didn’t like the idea of leaving his mom or the chance that they might hear something about his dad. “You’ll be okay?”

“Go,” Aunt Carol ordered. “I’ll stay. Get some fresh air.”

“And bring me back something sweet,” Joan added.

Cranking the AC up to blasting in her car because the air outside wasn’t so much fresh as it was hotter than Hades, Maggie drove the three of them to the nearest McDonald’s drive-thru. Riley was more than happy; fast food was his vice.

The park was a fifteen-minute drive from the hospital and, because of the weather and the fact that it was school summer vacation, it was busy. On a blanket Maggie rustled up from the trunk of the car, she and Riley sat in the sun and watched Rosie as she played in the large sandbox, throwing the stuff and building castles with two other children she’d commandeered for the project.

“So how’re you doing?” Maggie asked, slurping her chocolate milkshake.

Riley shrugged, leaning back on his hands, watching Rosie through his shades. “Doctors say Dad’s a fighter. Can’t ask for more than that.”

Maggie nodded. “Your mom looks tired.”

And it was no wonder. “She’s been at the hospital every day for at least twelve hours.”

“How long are you staying?”

“As long as she needs.”

Riley had spoken to Max that very morning, filling his friend in. Max had told him to take as long as was necessary and Riley didn’t argue. He had to be with his family. It was as simple as that.

Riley grimaced as Maggie pulled off the lid of her shake and dipped a fry into it. “These cravings are kicking my ass,” she said by way of explanation. Riley chuckled and smiled as Rosie approached,
handing him a leaf and a twig she’d collected as she’d played.

“Thank you,” he said with a grin. She skipped back toward the sandbox, her pretty pink dress covered in ketchup, chicken nugget bits, juice, and sand. Her hair, which had been tied up in cute, neat pigtails, was now flying around and sticking to her face.

“There’s no point in me even trying to keep her looking respectable,” Maggie said with a resigned sigh. “She’s a hot mess.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Riley uttered with a smirk.

Maggie adjusted herself on the blanket, leaning against Riley’s shoulder. “And I was going to say how nice it is to have you back in Michigan.”

With the blue sky above them, the relative quiet of the park, and the heat, Riley had to agree. Despite the circumstances, it was nice being home. Sure, he missed the bustle of New York, but there was always something about Traverse City that hugged a deep part of him.

“Do you ever think about moving back?” Maggie asked.

“Not really,” he answered honestly.

“Best thing I ever did.” Maggie had moved back to Michigan from Indiana just before Rosie was born, buying a house with her husband not two hours away from Riley’s mom. “I want my kids to grow up here like we did.”

It was a nice idea. Riley wasn’t sure he’d like his kids to grow up in New York, and Michigan was a nice place to do it. But then he’d have to actually have children, and that wasn’t looking all that likely given his current relationship status. Rosie threw off her sandals and began rubbing her small feet in the sand, much to the exasperation of her mother. Riley had to admit, Rosie was as cute as a button, and seeing her play without a care in the world eased the stiffness between his shoulders.

Rosie threw sand into the air, giggling as she did. Riley got to his feet and wandered over to where she was digging and creating
a pile of the stuff between her legs. He crouched and started helping, ignoring Maggie’s complaints about having sand all over the damn car.

Looking back at his cousin to unleash a barrage of “chill the hell out,” Riley noticed a slim woman with light brown hair standing by the slide not fifty feet away. He pulled his shades down his nose and narrowed his eyes in an effort to see her more clearly, even though his gut knew exactly who she was. He stood slowly, wiping his sand-covered hands on the ass of his jeans, noticing the small blond-haired boy she was playing with. He couldn’t have been much older than four.

Maggie looked over her shoulder to where he was staring. “Who is that?”

“It’s Savannah,” he answered, glancing around quickly, his pulse galloping at the idea that Lexie might be somewhere close by. But he couldn’t see her. When he looked back, Savannah was staring straight at him, her blue eyes wide as though he were a ghost.

“Sav,” he managed, taking a slight step forward. He had no idea how she would react to him. She was Lexie’s sister, after all, and there was a shit-ton of water under that bridge.

Savannah didn’t reply. Instead, she muttered something to the little boy as he made to climb the steps of the slide again and clutched his hand, all but dragging him away, even though the poor little dude complained about wanting one more go. Rather than fighting with him, she picked him up and placed him on her hip.

Riley didn’t breathe until they both disappeared in the crowds, dropping his chin to his chest.
Shit.
Despite the law of averages stating it was bound to happen, he’d been totally unprepared for dealing with Lexie or her family. Adrenaline coursed through him, picking up his heart and throwing it against his ribs.

“You okay?” Maggie’s voice came from his side. Riley knew Maggie didn’t
know the entire story of his and Lexie’s relationship, but he would have put money on his mother having given her the highlights at some point.

He nodded, speechless, and turned back to play with Rosie, praying his burger didn’t suddenly make a reappearance in the kids’ sandbox.

Lexie Pierce leaned her hip against the counter, which stretched halfway across the back wall of the store, smiling at the young woman who’d been debating for the past twenty minutes about whether to buy a ring for her index finger or a bracelet to wear with her watch. For some it may have been frustrating in the extreme, seeing a person um and ah over a piece of jewelry, but for Lexie, it was the best part of her job.

“They’re both so pretty,” the woman said for the eighth time, holding the ring in one hand and the bracelet in the other, as if weighing their worth.

Lexie had to agree. They were her favorite and newest designs, and both—the ring embossed with the word
laugh
and the bracelet,
sing
—were very beautiful. The woman sighed and dropped her hands. “I can’t decide.”

Lexie chuckled and placed a hand on the woman’s forearm. It was something she tried to do with all her indecisive customers. Touching seemed to help calm them and usually aided in their making a clearer decision. “What’s your name?”

“Amanda.”

“Amanda, my name’s Lexie. Can I suggest something?”

The woman looked instantly relieved. “Yes, absolutely.”

Lexie gestured toward the far wall of the store—a wall that was originally covered entirely in mirrors but had, over the three years the store had been open, been slowly buried under hundreds of
pink sticky notes. Lexie wandered toward the vast array of pink, smiling at the words written on each one.

“This is the ‘love wall.’ ” She pushed her glasses up her nose before she picked a note and pulled it carefully from the mirror. “I ask each customer who comes in to leave a love note before they leave. Here.”

She handed the note over as Amanda asked, “A love note to whom?”

“To themselves,” Lexie answered. Some notes made Lexie laugh, others made her cry, and some simply made her thank God for the family she loved and friends who cared for her. “I ask my customers to look in the mirror and write a note detailing at least one thing they love about themselves,” Lexie continued. “Each one is signed off already.” She placed a finger at the bottom of the note where it read simply:

Love, You.

“The name of the store,” Amanda murmured as she read the note Lexie had handed her:
I love your green eyes, your red hair, and your tenacious attitude.
Love, you.

The note that had been next to it merely stated:
Your ass! LOL!
Love, You.

“Some people find it easy to write a few things,” Lexie mused. “Some find it hard to write even one.”

“This is great,” Amanda said, her attention on a note that read:
Your mad kitchen skillz!

Lexie smiled. “So, my suggestion.” Amanda looked back at her and Lexie handed her a love note that was blank, save for the Love, You at the bottom. “Write down three things you love about yourself and I’ll knock twenty percent off the bracelet.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re honest, sure.”

Seemingly panicked by the prospect, Amanda asked, “Wait, three things?”

Lexie placed a hand on Amanda’s arm again. “Use the mirror. It might be easier than you think. Come find me when you’re done.”

Lexie made her way from the “Love Wall” across the store, smiling at her regular customers and stopping to introduce herself to those who were new. She glanced over to a far corner where Jaime, her store manager, was explaining to a young guy who’d bought a necklace for his boyfriend the difference between engraving and embossing. The store did both, and it was usually done while the customer waited. Each piece of jewelry, depending on design, could fit a personal message of up to ten words.

“Lexie?” Lexie turned to see her newest staff member, Annie, looking a little flustered. “I’m sorry, but this gentleman”—she gestured toward a well-dressed man standing by the register—“wondered if you would be able to design a piece for his fiancée—well, his future fiancée. He’s going to propose and wants a special ring.”

“No problem.”

Yeah, it was going to be a busy day. And Lexie loved it. As much as she’d worried and fretted over putting money into a dream she’d had for years, every time she saw the receipts and price tags with her brand, Love, You by Lexie, printed on them, she felt a surge of pride and excitement. It had taken a lot of hard work, patience, and resilience to be where she was today, but it had all been totally worth it.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall as she approached Annie’s customer, Lexie found she liked what she saw. Her hair, which she’d twisted up and fastened with two pencils, was still as blonde as it had been when she was small, and the glasses she wore when her eyes were too tired for contacts were the same shade of pink she’d loved forever. The tattoos on her left arm, reaching from her shoulder to her elbow, as well as the ones on the inside of her right forearm, added color and a story to her otherwise boring, pale skin, while the several piercings in each ear and the one in her septum glinted prettily under the store spotlights.

As they had gotten older, her sister, Savannah, described Lexie as having a “sexy edge,” and she was happy to agree, especially coming from someone as beautiful and intelligent as her younger sister.