Before and Ever Since (9781101612286) (13 page)

“Well, that's unfortunate,” she said.

“Isn't it?”

I put the towel back on the rack, since I wasn't at my house, where I'd throw it somewhere in the vicinity of the sink, and I gave her the best smile I could come up with.

“What's going on?” she asked, her wise eyes seeing more than I wanted her to.

I shook my head. “Nothing I can get into right now, okay? I'm gonna load up some boxes and I'll be back later for dinner.”

She nodded, a look of concern definitely playing on her face, but she knew me. She knew that I'd talk when I was ready.

“Okay. Wash your hair.”

I laughed and rubbed at my eyes, which no longer had an ounce of makeup. “I'll be presentable, I promise.”

I chanced a glance from the corner of my eye when I passed the garage with the next box, and he was leaning against the workbench with his head down. It gave me a little rush of—something—just knowing I wasn't the only one fighting myself.

I nearly ran the next two trips up to my room and back, grabbing everything that would possibly fit in my trunk, not even caring what it was. I nearly had to sit on it for it to latch closed, but as soon as it did I was gone. I drove off without even looking back. I needed space from him. From the chemistry that had sparked the second he'd arrived and had been simmering ever since. And that particular day, with the paint and the roof and the flashback and then that whole mouth-to-mouth fiasco—I felt like I needed to shower in ice.

I remembered his kisses, for the most part. It had been many, many years, and a long stretch of Kevin in between, but I did remember that he had skills in that area. Skills that had turned me into a puddle of gush and given me Cassidy.

Nothing in my memory bank had prepared me for the fire he'd just lit up in me from head to toe. In that thirty second stretch at my car, I'd thrown out my worries, my dignity, and all the reasons I needed to stay away from him. In fact I would have probably done him right there in the driveway, forgetting about the neighbors and my mother and aunt as well.

“I am such a slut,” I said to myself as I made it to my house, walked in the door, and knocked three open magazines out of the way so I could flop onto my couch and wallow in the chaos that seemed to blanket me.

•   •   •

O
THER THAN DINNER THAT NIGHT, WHICH WAS
B
EN-FREE DUE
to his plans with his brother, I managed to stay away from my mother's house for four whole days. Four days. I met with clients, made new spreadsheets, created a house tour schedule where I bounced from showing to showing like a chicken on crack. I made sure I was busy, and I made sure I was rarely even home, spending one of those days at the office I detested just so no one could drop by looking for me.

Not that I thought anyone would really drop by looking for me. Or try to find me. Or call. He—or whoever—wouldn't have my number, but it was listed in the real estate section of every newspaper and then there was always my mother. She'd handed over my address like it was a recipe for cheesecake. Why would my phone number be any more of a hassle? He would just have to ask.

Or I could stop obsessing about a man I had no business thinking about or wanting to think about. Ben Landry was everything I needed to avoid. A gorgeous man with the ability to drain my brain of logic with one touch. And Cassidy's father. That was reason enough. I couldn't “move forward” with him, when eventually he or Cass—or even Kevin—would put the pieces together.

Plus, he could talk all the noise he wanted to about leaving the past in the past and all that, but how could I ever trust him not to bail on me again without knowing why he did it the first time?

No. It was infinitely better for me to stay away while he was there, and keeping a distance from that house had an appeal as well. I enjoyed having entire days spent in one time period.

I was stir-frying some chicken and vegetables, feeling very liberated and domestic even though it all came from a bag, when my doorbell rang on the fifth day. I looked at my reflection in the microwave door, knowing that Cass was at work, Holly and Greg were on a date, and Mom was busy with Aunt Bernie. Was that hope I was feeling, or dread? Or both.

I turned the fire off and headed to the door with a positive attitude, refusing to even look out the window to see who it was. It would be whoever it was supposed to be.

And when I swung the door open, it was Kevin. My arms dropped to my sides along with my spirits.

“Funny. You didn't figure into any of the possibilities,” I said, smiling at him and his perfectly ironed shirt and bleached teeth.

“What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. What's up?”

He shrugged and tilted his head. “Just wanted to talk to you for a second.”

“Is my phone not working?”

“It tends not to, when you see it's me,” he said, smiling back.

I laughed. “Okay, come in. I'm making some dinner; have you eaten?”

“Nah, but Sherry's making an organic vegetarian etouffee, so I'd better wait.”

I stopped and gave him a look. “Are you sure? I have chicken.”

He appeared to waver for a second, then shook his head. “It's okay. But go ahead, keep doing what you're doing.”

He headed to the collage of Cassidy while I went back to the stirring. I felt a pang of guilt that I hadn't felt in years, as he smiled at some of the photos. With him raising her, and Ben not in the picture, it got to where I thought of Kevin as her father. It was easy to believe the lie when there was nothing around to dispute it. Now, she was grown and living her own life. And lately, I constantly felt about two hairs away from everything being yanked out from under all of us.

“This is when she loved me,” he said with a sad little laugh.

I swallowed the lump rising there. “She loves you, Kev; she's just trying to make her own way. You have a hard time letting people do that.”

“I guess.”

“So, what's up?” I asked after a pause. “I don't know if Cass has done anything with that paperwork, if that's what you're wondering.”

He shook his head minimally, still looking at the pictures, and the little warning bells went off in my head. Kevin was nothing if not opinionated and in-your-face. For him to come to my house and then not come look me in the eye—told me it wasn't going to be his normal rant.

I decided to abandon my dinner for the moment and pour myself a glass of wine. I poured two on instinct and offered him one as I sat at the table.

“You aren't going to eat?” he asked, glancing back at the stove as he sat down.

“It can wait; what's going on?”

He met my eyes and chuckled. “Is something going on with you and Landry?”

My whole body relaxed. “Jesus, Kevin, is that what you came over to ask me?”

“No, I'm just wondering.”

“Well, quit,” I said, getting back up to revisit dinner.

“Sherry wants to get married,” he blurted out.

I looked back at him, at the genuine worry and anxiety in his face, and sat back down.

“O-kay. I'm guessing you don't?”

He toyed with his glass. “I should. I mean, yeah, I guess I do. I just—”

“You've been together long enough to know.”

“I know,” he said, pushing back his chair and rubbing at his eyes. For the first time, I noticed the perfection was waning. There were the little lines around his eyes, and some gray in his eyebrows. “And in that respect, I do.” He blew out a breath. “She's perfect for me. We have a great relationship.”

“You have a great relationship?” I leaned across the table toward him. “You sound like you're describing a dog. Or a car. Or an insurance agent. Do you love her?”

He met my eyes. “I loved you.”

That backed me up a good foot. I sat up and blinked at him. “Wh—What—”

“I loved you with all I had, Emily. Since junior high, I was in love with you. And look what I did with that. I still had to screw it up. I couldn't be happy with what I had, I still needed what I
didn't
have.”

I didn't want to go down that road. I scooped my hair up and tried to look patient, but reminders of what the whole town knew my husband was doing behind my back was not my idea of memory lane.

“So you're saying you might do it again?”

He scoffed and looked away. “I've already done it again. And again. That's my point.”

I dropped my hair and stared at him. “Seriously?”

“I love her, Em. She's amazing.” He got up and pushed his chair in, lining it up with the others. “But clearly, that's not enough to keep me faithful. Should I let her marry into that?”

I wanted to shake him. “No!” I got up and left my chair out on purpose. “Kevin, grow the hell up. You're not special. Everybody has temptations—hell, I could have had three different flings while we were married, but I never gave it a second thought. I made the choice. You have that ability, too. Get help if you need to, or let her go.” I walked up to him and put my finger on his chest. “But if you love Sherry like you say you do, be a man. Don't fuck her over.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Who could you have had flings with?”

I turned around and headed back to my cooling dinner. “Really? That's all you heard?”

He followed me. “I'm sorry.”

I looked at him, annoyed. “For what?”

“Cheating on you. Messing things up.”

His voice was soft. Sincere. Probably for the first time in all the apologies he'd made.

“I know,” I said, and then looked back down at my chicken that wasn't looking so good. “Things happen as they're supposed to, Kevin. Maybe Sherry's the one for you.”

“Maybe.” He started to leave, then turned around. “Thanks for talking to me.” He shrugged. “I didn't have anybody else.”

I gave him a small smile. “Anytime.”

“So is Landry the one for you?”

I closed my eyes. “Bye, Kevin.”

He chuckled and left. But I knew he'd registered the fact that I hadn't said no.

CHAPTER

11

T
WO MORE DAYS OF GIVING MY MOTHER'S HOUSE A WIDE BERTH,
and I didn't know if I was happy with myself or depressed. Mom called to check on me but said nothing about Ben. Holly called to talk about Mom's party, which she and Cass had decided would just be a girls' night out somewhere.

Ben hadn't made one single effort.

This thought kept poking away at me as I tried to enjoy a quiet evening at home with a good book and my fleecy pajamas. The same paragraphs passed in front of my eyes over and over, but I wasn't seeing the content. I kept checking my phone, and Facebook, and e-mail, and then I'd end up playing a puzzle game I downloaded an app for, and then get disgusted and go back to the same tired paragraphs.

Isn't that what I'd wanted? To stay away from him? To keep my life all zipped up in its neat little pouch, without the distraction and danger of him messing it up? Maybe. But I had to face the additional fact that while that may have been what I wanted, I'd expected him to give it a little more of a fight.

That last kiss of his had certainly felt like more than just a passing interest. Almost a week afterward, I could still remember every second of it, the way he smelled and the way he felt and the look in his eyes that had gone with it. But maybe afterward, he'd second-guessed it. Maybe he wished he hadn't gone there and had decided to back off as well. He'd certainly done it before.

Irritated, disgusted, and put out with myself for feeling so pathetic, I decided I deserved a treat. Ice cream. And not just any old wannabe ice cream in a bucket, either. I wanted the real deal with scoops and mix-ins and a waffle cone. There was the dilemma of putting on real clothes, versus going to a drive-through, but I was always paranoid of getting in a wreck and being left to stand on the side of the road in my silkies.

So I split the difference and threw on black sweatpants with a purple T-shirt, found a pair of sneakers to slide into, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and off I went in search of two scoops of Dutch chocolate with chopped pecans.

The place I had in mind—Crème de la Cream—was only a mile and a half away, and I could already taste the perfection. When I pulled into the lot, there was only one car there, and I rejoiced at my good fortune, not having to show my bare face and mismatched attire to a crowd.

The aroma of freshly cooked waffle cones in various flavors hit me as soon as I opened the door, and my mouth reacted. I opened it to spill out my favorite combination when the bathroom door opened and who should rush out with a flourish but Dedra Powers.

“Emily,” she breathed, all happy and fresh and made-up and clearly on her way home from a date or something nice. Unless she was one to park on the couch in Prada heels and a Gucci bag, Dedra had had a better night than I did. Her smile curved, cat-like. “Have a craving, too?”

I made a point to close my mouth, and then smiled. “Yes.” I turned to place my order before my head started spinning all the way around. Then the chime went off signaling another customer coming in, and we both turned to see Ben walk in.

“Really?” I said under my breath. Or I thought it was. Seemed to bounce around that room, so maybe it wasn't.

He hesitated in the doorway when he saw me, like he wasn't sure if he should turn back and run the other way. While I understood that feeling all too well, it hit me a little too close to home. After a few seconds passed, he walked up slowly, looking a little distant but never breaking eye contact with me.

“Emily.”

I would have given all the ice cream in the world to have Dedra's clothes at that moment. In my size. Looking at him in his worn, soft jeans and blue sweatshirt with the sleeves shoved up, all I could think of was the hideous purple shirt I had on and the fact that I sported no makeup. What a way for him to see me after six days.

“Hey, Ben.”

“Oh, Ben—Landry?” Dedra piped in, leaning between us so we had to look at her. “Are you Ben Landry?”

Ben blinked and looked at her. “Yes, ma'am.”

She fidgeted and smiled the way I'd seen women do around him since we were old enough to fidget. “Wonderful,” she said, holding out a hand. “I'm Dedra. Dedra Powers? Mrs. Lattimer told me about the work you're doing at her house.”

Eyebrows moved up slightly, and I knew he fought not to glance toward me. “Dedra Powers. I do believe I've heard your name.”

“Well, not in vain, I hope,” she said on a giggle, and I shook my head. She looked my way. “My goodness, your mom has a lot of questions,” she said. “You'd think she'd absorb some of your knowledge.”

I smiled as I remembered my mother's words about calling Dedra night and day. “Well, I guess she wants to get her money's worth.”

Dedra smiled back, although her eyes showed something else. She turned her charm back to Ben. “I told Mrs. Lattimer that I'd love to get someone with your talent under contract as a handyman.”

I saw his eyes light up with amusement, and he nodded. “Well, we'll have to talk then.” He pointed ahead. “Right now, I just want something sweet.”

“Oh, I love their frozen yogurt,” she said. “They have the best nonfat peaches and cream yogurt. I get it sprinkled with crushed almonds just to be bad,” she said, leaning into me conspiratorially.

I stared at her. Down at her. Because she was one of those tiny petite people that wear size zeros and model Barbie clothes. Then I turned my back on both of them and smiled at the clerk behind the counter.

“I'll take two scoops of Double Dutch Chocolate, mixed with chopped pecans—and almonds,” I said.

“In a bowl or cone?” the clerk asked.

“In a cinnamon and sugar waffle cone,” I responded, stepping to one side. “Your turn.”

The smile Ben was fighting to keep off his face was worth all six days of self-banishment. And it hit me like a ton of cinder blocks to know just how much I'd missed it.

Dedra ordered her nonfat pointless drivel in a plastic cup, and then Ben pointed at mine as the clerk handed it to me.

“I'll have that, too,” he said, then walked around Dedra like she was a traffic cone. “Busy this week?”

I felt my heart speed up as he stepped closer, and I took a slow breath to even things out. I refused to show a reaction, knowing he'd expect one.

“Crazy. Had a lot of appointments on hold from the previous weeks, it was time to get people taken care of.”

He nodded as if trying to tell if I was lying. “Well, I have those papers signed for you; they're in my toolbox at your mom's house.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah.” He nodded over my head toward where Dedra was chatting with the ice cream girl about the nutritional content. “Interesting choice to hang out with. Did I interrupt a big night on the town?”

I laughed in spite of myself and gave up waiting to eat my cone as it began dripping down my hand. I licked my fingers with all the grace of a hippopotamus. “Yes, don't I just look ready to hit the town?”

“Well, Ben,” Dedra said from behind me just as he was about to say something. She clicked her little heels right around me and laid a beautifully manicured hand on his arm. “I'd love to talk to you about your work. Here's my card,” she said, deftly pulling one from the side pocket of her bag. “Please call me.”

I knew that please-call-me tone. It was the universal please-fuck-me tone known to women everywhere.

“I sure will,” he said, smiling down at her in such a way that probably melted her yogurt. He met my eyes as she left. “What?”

I chuckled. “You just can't help yourself, can you?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up. “Oh, come on. You jealous?”

Any playfulness I'd felt was doused by the bucket of cold water that comment brought. “No,” I said coldly. “And don't ever play that game with me over her.”

I headed for the door and he double-stepped it to get in front of me. “Em. Emily. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, that wasn't cool for me to say that.” He leaned over to make me look at him. “Seriously. I'm sorry.”

“Okay,” I said, acting like I didn't care. I held up my cone. “Gotta go.”

He pointed to the little outside patio tables and chairs off to the side. “Or you could sit with me a minute and eat our ice cream together.”

Crap.

“Or—I could do that,” I said.

Thinking that didn't sound very upbeat, I smiled, but he didn't look wounded or anything so I let it be. I claimed a chair and worked methodically at my cone, trying to think of brilliant conversation.

“Not too cold tonight, that's good,” I said. Not what I had in mind.

He nodded, licking around the sides of his cone, and I was momentarily paralyzed by the memory of his tongue in my mouth before I pinched myself to grow up.

“Did Cassidy bring those books to you?” he asked.

All other thoughts blew away like the wind. “Cassidy? What books?”

“She found like three boxes of books in a hall closet, and your mom said they were yours. She stuffed them in her car and was going to bring them over.”

Hearing him tell me what Cassidy was doing had a surreal feel to it. Like I needed to hit rewind and do it right.

“Oh. Um, no, she hasn't made it by, yet. When was this?”

“I don't know, a few days ago. She's been helping your mom out quite a bit.” He pointed randomly. “She's funny.”

“Funny,” I repeated.

“Yeah, the way she sees things,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She can get into some babble fests, but somehow she always brings it around to make perfect sense. She's got a good head on her shoulders.”

I couldn't even taste the chocolate anymore. “Because?”

He looked at me funny. “Because she knows what she wants.”

I laughed. “Really? How on earth did you get all that?”

“She talks,” he said matter-of-factly. “All the time,” he added with a laugh. “By the way, your mom's party is day after tomorrow in case no one has told you yet. I've heard the plans more than once.”

“Yes, I knew that,” I said.

“She may not know what she wants education-wise, but she's smart about life. She sees the world—really sees it. Not just what she's told to see.”

I nodded, feeling clammy all of a sudden. He'd just described himself at that age, and he was too smart to not figure that out soon.

“Yep, she's a one-of-a-kind all right,” I said, and I tossed the little remainder of my cone in a nearby garbage. I pushed out my chair. “Well, I'm going to head back home.”

“Okay.” He sat back in his chair, looking like he was staying awhile. “It was good to see you.”

“You, too.”

I stood to go, but the problem was that I couldn't seem to actually follow through. He had that look going on. That pin-me-to-the-wall, root-me-to-the-floor look, where he mastered the phenomenon of not blinking. I gripped the cold metal chair instead and thought about kissing him. Why the hell not. That's where my head kept veering off to anyway, the way he sat all slung back with his clothes clinging to him just right.

“Are you not talking to me again?” he said, his face showing no emotion.

I blinked myself back to reality. “What?”

“I'm just curious, so I know when to leave you alone,” he said, rising to his feet in one slow movement. “When you start answering questions like a robot, that seems to be the time.”

I sighed. “There isn't a grand plan for what I'm doing, Ben,” I said, hoping I sounded world-weary and sophisticated. “And I'm standing here talking to somebody; I thought it was you.”

He laughed, but not a happy kind of laugh. “I'm guessing you're avoiding the house so it doesn't suck you backward. You're avoiding me so I don't”—he leaned toward me—“suck you forward. Life's just easier that way, isn't it?”

“You know, you're one to talk about avoidance.”

My roots had been released, and I turned on my heel and headed for my car. Quickly, before he could catch up and glue me to my car with his tongue again.

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“You know damn good and well what it means.”

“So you keep telling me.” I kept walking. “See you tomorrow,” he called out.

“We'll see.”

That was weak and we both knew it. I might have been strutting away like I had Dedra's haughty little pumps on, but in reality I had Emily Lattimer Lockwood's sneakers on, the ones with holes in the toes.

•   •   •

M
OM'S HOUSE LOOKED FANTASTIC.
L
IKE WHY-WOULD-YOU-EVER-
want-to-leave kind of fantastic. The den all done up in the earth tones, with no crappy paneling, made it look almost like a new house. Well, a new house with the old carpeting, but that would have its day as well. It looked empty without Mom's chair and the big old couch that was supposed to be there, and I wondered where she and Bernie were hanging out. I guessed the kitchen.

The cabinets had been given just a simple piece of trim around each door, giving them a whole new look. The windows all had snazzy new trim and fresh paint. The downstairs bathroom had new brushed nickel faucets and some new shelves that weren't there before.

Ben had been busy.

“You like?”

His voice directly behind me as I admired the new showerhead massager startled me so badly I had to grab the wall to keep from taking the shower door out. His rumbling laugh sounded warm as I turned around, and the smile in his eyes that went with it made me falter.

“Told you I'd see you today,” he said, pulling some of the smile back.

“It's night.”

A fact I thought I'd planned out well. Facing the house, avoiding him. So much for that.

“Yes, it is,” he said, crossing his arms. “It's been a crazy day. You?”

“Something like that.”