Cookie Cutter (27 page)

“Get the door, Ally!” I yell and she does.

When I get inside, I practically throw the bags onto the counter, fumble through my purse to find the phone and then finally . . . finally I find it and slide the bar at the bottom to answer.

“Hello?”

Nothing. I check the caller ID and it still says
Carter
but it also says,
CALL ENDED.

“Hello?” I call out again out of sheer denial but there’s no one there. I check the voicemail again but get that stupid, crappy error message, again.

I try him back but nothing. I look across the street, despite the fact that I know he’s not there. This is when I notice for the first time today that there’s a FOR SALE sign up in his yard and despite the fact that I knew he was pretty much done with his renovation and that this would happen eventually, I didn’t think it would happen so fast.

I close the front door and turn to see my daughter, prepping our baking area. It’s enough to distract me from wondering if I’ll ever see Carter again.

* * *

Sunday comes and goes in a haze of baking and running Ally around.  When I check my phone, I see a missed call or two from Carter but nothing else. When I try him back, I get nothing but endless rings. Once, I think he answered but the connection was horrible and all I got out of him was a few broken sentences before the call ended.

I’m sleepless at night, thinking of everything that’s been going on lately. Not just Carter but Ally, the baking, my job and where it’s going, and lastly, James. On Monday morning, I make the unlikely decision to call in sick. Luckily, Mark doesn’t have anything urgent going on or I’d feel extremely guilty about that.

After I drop Ally off at school and she promises to call or text me if anything changes with dance practice, I head for the Social Security services building downtown, because aside from getting my license renewed on time, there’s another ID card that needs updating. The traffic is bad but I pass the time by playing music and trying hard not to think about what Carter might be doing right now, or where he went to in such a hurry. I know I’m not supposed to text and drive but peeking down to see if he’s responded since I last checked while I’m waiting at a stop light surely doesn’t count. Right? Nothing. Serves me right for looking.

I get to the downtown parking garage. I haven’t exactly reached out to Carter since he called and didn’t leave a message so after I park, I try him again. When I get to the fifth ring, I decide to be an adult and text him.
Call me
. My finger hovers over the send button for a few minutes. My heart races. After I press it, as an afterthought, and because I feel more daring than I have in a very long time, I add another text, using words similar to what he used when he asked me out forever ago.

Say yes, Carter.

I smile despite the fact there’s an unknown here. I kind of enjoy the unknown with Carter. I kind of hate it too. I slide the phone into my purse, take a deep breath in and go inside to finish up what I came to take care of.

* * *

Quite frankly, government agencies have never been my favorite to deal with. About mid-afternoon, when I’m finally done with all the form filling out and signing and what-not at the Social Security services building, I drive home.

I’m not going to check my phone until I’m home. I refuse to come off desperate with Carter, even if I’m the only one that knows it. When I turn down my street, there’s still no sign of Carter or his truck, but there is
something odd going on in his yard. I nearly run up over the curb to my house gawking at it as I pull up. Once I regain control of the vehicle and park it in the driveway, I step out, slowly. I look up and down our street then I walk across the road.

The FOR SALE sign is now laying on its side. It taunts me and I cannot get my feet to leave Carter’s front yard. It is bad enough he put it up for sale but someone bought
it, that fast?

“What the
fuck
?” I breathe out, asking no one – maybe the sky, and completely
not
caring who hears me or what they might think of my vulgar expletive. I half expect the clouds to respond with some dramatic flair like a clap of thunder or a flash of lightning and when it doesn’t, part of me wants to curse some more. All I can do is stand there, glaring at the wooden post that sits in front of the home that’s now finished – I guess it is finished.

My heart sinks and the pain stings through my chest worse than any heartache I’ve felt in my life. I sit there and wonder where the time went since he first showed up on my doorstep, wanting to borrow a hammer.  Why did I let him and all his boyish charms into my life? When exactly was it that I fell so hard for this man? Wonderfully, unexpectedly, and so unforgivingly.

A smooth voice answers my silent questions, from behind me.

“I can explain that.”

Chapter 20.  Carter

“You gonna turn around, Iris?”

She doesn’t move when I say her name. That’s not encouraging. When I flew back home, I hoped to beat the realtor to the punch and stop by her place to tell her what’s going on.  As I pulled up to the house and saw her standing there, staring at the FOR SALE sign I took down today, I knew I was screwed. Her shoulders rise and fall. She’s trying to steady her breathing, which means she’s trying to compose herself before facing me – which means she’s pissed. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I try to lighten what’s heavy between us.

“Calling Mrs. Alden.”

She turns slowly.

My breath catches in the back of my throat when she looks up at me and I see the hurt staring back at me.

“I’m---”

“It’s Benning, actually,” she says. The tone in her voice smarts, I’m not gonna lie.

“I’m sorry, what?”

But still, I try to cover that fact up with some sarcasm. “Did you get married since I left, Iris? That’s a little sudden, don’t you think?”

As far-fetched as that sounds when I say it out loud, I can’t help but wonder. Iris is, after all, a surprising kind of woman. When she doesn’t say anything, I’ll admit it, I think I might be on to something but then I see the lips twitch – ever so slightly.

“It’s my maiden name,” she says with a sly smile.

And I can breathe at last, out of sheer relief. “Well played.”

Iris gives her bottom lip a slight bite before saying anything else. When she does, she takes the sting away. “It’s good see you, Carter.”

She tilts her head like she’s trying to figure something out, but there’s not much to know about me right now. I’m just glad to be here. For now.

“Why’d you change your name?” I ask her before she can start questioning me.

She shrugs and in true Iris fashion, she lays it all out for me. “Half the reason I kept it after the divorce was because I didn’t want Ally to have to explain to all her friends why she had one name but her mother has another.”

Fair enough.

“And the other half?”

“I don’t . . .” She stops. “It felt . . . safe,” she says. “Keeping James’ last name always made me think maybe there was a chance that things would normalize for us; that maybe we’d end up back together some day, a full family, and everything would be . . .”

“Back to the way it was,” I finish for her, and she nods.

“But . . .?” I prod. I want to know what else she’s thinking.

I also don’t want to know, but most of me, wants to know. She hesitates, but not for long. “I don’t want back to the way it was, anymore.”

I breathe the heaviest sigh of relief on this side of the world. I like that response. Hell, I love that response so I go for the gold, because I have to know. I push some hair out of her face and behind her ear.

“What do you want, Iris?”

She looks up at me, her brown eyes soft, honest. “I want you.”

The sides of my mouth pull into a smile I couldn't ignore even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. I bend down and slip a hand behind her neck.

“What a great answer.”

I kiss her for the goodbye I missed, and the hello we’re having. I kiss her for every moment I’ve known her – and for the hope of knowing her for the rest of my life. For the first time since things began to go sour for me over in California, I’m grateful for every mishap, mistake, mis-step, mix-up, fuck up, and bad decision I ever made.

They brought me to Iris.

It doesn’t get any better than this.

“Do you want to tell me why you left?” she asks when the kiss ends and just like that, my moment of bliss without talk of the weekend has passed. But I know she deserves the story.

“Let’s go inside.” I pull at her hand and she follows.

It feels just like Frank said.

Home.

At the kitchen counter, I tell her about the call I got while I was at her house the other day. About my Dad’s status and my brother’s misguided loyalty to the firm. I explain the situation, and the guilt, and how although my father condition is looking good currently, the next time, we might not be so lucky.

“So your options are; break your father’s frail heart, literally, or go home and what?”

“Run the firm.” I finish what she doesn’t want to say any more than I do. “Provided I could get a reinstatement.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s rare but it happens.”

Iris nods. I knew she’d understand, that’s who she is. She’d never ask me to stay.

“When do you go back?”

Here’s the true test. I breathe in and let it go. Then I tell her, “I’m not.”

Iris’s eyes grow big, startled.
Perplexed.

“I don’t understand,” she says, so I explain it as best I can.

“I had a long talk with my brother. I told him about building houses, and fixing things . . . and you.”

“Me?”

I nod. “Mmmm Hmmm. I told him how incredibly relentless you’ve been with my heart.”

She breathes in deep but doesn’t let it out.

“Iris my dad doesn’t need me; not like he thinks he does. And my brother might not be the smartest when it comes to running a business, but I’m just a phone call away. And, lucky for him,” I bounce my eyebrows a couple of times, “I do consultancy work.”

The air finally rushes out of her and she nearly laughs but holds it back.

“See I don’t wanna go back to the way things were either,” I say.

“You don’t?”

I shake my head.

“But the house . . .”

I look around, happy with the work I did here.

“I know, I know. Leaving here means I’d actually miss this place.” I look down at her. “And the people around me.”

“Carter, I don’t---”

“Technically, I sold the house.” My grin creeps out.

“But w---”

“To myself.”

“You . . .” Her mouth falls open and then without warning, she flies forward, swinging her hands around my neck, damn near knocking me over, as per usual.

“I love you, Iris, Alden, or Benning,” I whisper to her. “Whoever you are.”

I’m not afraid she won’t say it back. I simply want her to know. She pulls her head back when it hits her, what I’ve just announced. Her eyes shine brighter than anything I’ve ever known. More than anything I ever
want
to know.

This is it.

This is where I’ve been heading my whole life.

“You’re okay with that, right?”

“So . . . you don’t think I’m high maintenance?”

I bark out a laugh. “No, Iris.  I don’t think you’re high maintenance.”

“But I---”

“Control freak? Stressed? Slightly overprotective, yeah, maybe, but not high maintenance. You’re the opposite of high maintenance.”

“I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”

“If I wanted easy, I’d have stayed in California,” I say.

“I’ve been known to be obsessive compulsive.”

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I know.”

“And very opinionated, apparently.”

“Ya think?”

“And---”

I kiss her again before she can convince herself I don’t feel the things I’m feeling. I figure the rest will have to sink in on its own time. We haven’t known each other a very long time, Iris and me, but I can think of someone I knew for a lifetime who didn’t turn out to be the person I thought she was, and I figure I’m making out on the deal.

Iris is exactly who she says she is.

She’s hectic at times, slightly OCD, a mama bear when it comes to her loved ones and so many more things that make me want to be around her, always. She’s perfectly imperfect. Just like me.

“By the way,” she says in between tongue touching and lip syncing.

All I can do is hum in response because her voice, when it dips low and sultry like this, it does things to me – but they don’t do nearly the things that her next words do.

“I love you, too.”