The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) (11 page)

“
Why am I always the one in the dark?” Lisa guilted. “I didn’t even know you’d been dating. Who broke your heart?”

Lisa’s
last few words droned into a hum as Tracy took a sip of wine. A distinctive bold flavor touched her tongue. Tracy’s mouth filled with saliva and her stomach wrenched. The memories of Greece screamed through her veins.

With each heartbeat slamming inside her chest, Tracy’s
peripheral vision constricted. A film of perspiration instantaneously covered her body. She abruptly shot to her feet, mumbling excuse me and marching past Lisa toward the kitchen.

Her
hands trembled so violently, the goblet slipped from her fingers as she dumped the wine into the sink. Shattered glass resonated above the soft Christmas music playing through the house. She wasn’t breathing right and her skin burned with a prickly sensation. Tracy anxiously wrung her hands as if she’d been holding a ball of fire.

The sound of Lisa’s voice
garbled beneath the pounding in her eardrums. “Are you okay?”

JC
peeked around the corner. Distress immediately etched across her face. She came to Tracy’s side, asking questions and inspecting her hands. She yelled toward the living room, “No I got it, Momma. Everything is fine, just a broken wine glass.”

Tracy felt a little dizzy and weak.
“I think I’m gonna get sick.” Turning on her heel, she started for her bedroom.

She heard Lisa ask, “Maybe she ate something bad?”

JC followed, assuring Lisa, “I’ll take care of her.”

Tracy made a bee
-line for her bathroom, choking back tears pouring down her face and neck. Tracy leaned over the sink, rinsing her mouth and splashing cold water on her face. Tension gathered in her bones. She blew out a long shaky breath through compressed lips. She gripped the faucet handle so tightly she felt like she could rip it from the granite.

Glimp
sing her unfamiliar pale reflection in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose grumbling under her breath, “You are fucking pathetic.”

JC ventured into the bathroom, her hand rested on the doorjamb
. “Are you sick? Who’s pathetic?”

“
No, I’m not sick,” she said tersely. “Just go…I need to be alone.”

“Alone?” Confusion crosse
d her face. “What’s wrong?”

The air wouldn’t come fast enough to fill her lungs and her chest heaved
, gasping to find relief. She attempted to keep calm, but her entire body vibrated. Tracy snapped. “I just need some space from you right now.”

JC’s head reeled back, dropping her hand loosely to her side. “Me? What did I do?”

“I’
m sorry.” She scrubbed her eyes, hiding her frustrations in her the palm of her hands. Words stifled in her throat. “It’s not you. I never should’ve…stupid wine.”

“
Is it that bad? Lisa raves about that wine like she has stock in it.”

Tracy shook her head
stumbling into her bedroom, avoiding JC’s curious inspection. She didn’t know how to explain the physical pain, or strong sense of shame and anger lingering deep inside, torturing her heart.

JC’s hand swept across her shoulders.

Tracy’s face crumpled and contorted as another round of hot tears slid down her cheeks. “It…it tastes like him,” she confessed in an ache of a whisper.

“It tastes like him? Him who?”

Their gazes connected. Tracy’s brow furrowed and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

The consoling strokes came to a stop. “The Italian?”

Her sister’s shrieking insensitive voice only added insult to an already fragile heart. “Just go, JC. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“
What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you
don’t ever have feelings when it comes to men. You just do whatever and whoever you want.” Tracy cringed instantly, regretting the hurtful words. Her little sister almost always adhered to a strict three dates prior to sex rule.

JC
backed away slowly, offended and stunned. Crinkles rutted deep between the bridge of her nose and nostrils flared, shooting a dagger at Tracy. “That’s not very fucking nice to say. Don’t be getting all high and mighty with me just because some guy—“

She reached for her sister’s arm, but JC yanked it out of reach.

“I’m sorry. What I mean is…you don’t get attached. I can’t do—”

“Oh my God. Is this why you haven’t been calling me? You’re mad because I wouldn’t
let you have sex with him?” she questioned indignantly.

“I don’t know what
I am!” Tracy sobbed. “I’m not mad at you, but—“

“But what?”

“But part of me regrets, I mean really fucking regrets not staying with him.”

“Regret? Are you kidding me?
Just think of how bad you’d be feeling if I didn’t make you get in the car.”

“That’s what
makes it even worse. I completely, one hundred percent, realize I’m pitiful, stupid, and pathetic!” Tracy threw her hands in the air, disgusted with her own flimsy weak-minded misery. Pacing back and forth, the heels of her bare feet dug into the dense cream carpet. She halted and sat on the edge of the bed. “Part of me feels like I missed out on the best sexual experience I would’ve ever encountered in my life. I know it sounds crazy, but I get pissed at him for making me feel so…so passionate and then…ripping it from me. And on top of everything he promised!”

JC
sat next to her and both girls automatically flopped to their backs, a routine they’d been following since childhood. Without saying a word, they scooted toward the headboard of the whitewashed sleigh bed. Pulling back the ultra plush comforter, they laid on their sides snuggling beneath the down.

“
You sound slightly delusional.” She grumbled, repeating one of their dad’s favorite sayings, “And you know as well as I do, promises are only as good as the person making them.”

“
I can’t help it.” She closed her eyes sickly, shaking her head in disgust. Tears began to build again in the surrounding silence. Finding the courage, she faced her sister. “I…I’m such a mess…I even—“

JC looped her pinky finger around Tracy’s in show of moral support. 
“You even what?”

“I got two B’s this semester.” As the admission seeped from her strained voice, tears rolled into the hairline at her temple. Tracy had never seen a “B” etched in red ink at the top of a paper. She was the valedictorian, the girl the teachers praised, and the one all of her classmates wanted to cheat off of.

Her eyes bulged wide, comically.
“Not two B’s? We might have to call the doctor. Hey, remember that really hot doctor?”

This provoked a smile and l
aughter erupted amidst the sobs. Tracy appreciated JC’s humor, simply trying to make her smile, but everyone knew she strived for perfection when it came to academics.

“I
t was only one night, Tracy. Can you imagine how bad you’d feel right now if you’d had sex with him?” JC squinted sifting through the recollection, tugging on her finger. “Did you have sex with him?”

Unprepared for the direct
implication, she stammered. A clear admission of guilt. “No. I didn’t. No. Not really.”

“
Not really? It’s either a yes or no. What the hell happened that night?”

The night’s events spilled out. The quiet bedroom resonated with
sniffles, soft giggles and intermittent curse words spurred on by JC. Her little sister blinked repeatedly, hanging on every word as if they were little kids having story time and the prince was about to ride in on a white horse and valiantly save the day.

L
ying there quietly, Tracy asked, “Have you ever met a guy who made you feel that incredible? Like you could do anything. Be anything. I mean, like, you were so connected, not only linked with him but with yourself? He made me feel…” Tracy searched for the correct term. “Amazing.”

A
lump of envy rolled down JC’s throat when she swallowed hard. “No,” she whispered in a gloomy sullen tone. “You got more pleasure out of a one-night stand hand job then I’ve ever gotten out of all my hookups put together.”

Both girls scoffed
at the deplorable truth.

Her a
musement frayed, and her small smile turned to sobs. “But it hurts so badly, JC. I can’t get him out of my head. I feel like I can’t escape him. I can literally feel his hands on my skin or if I think of his grin, my chest physically aches. I can’t even drink the damn wine without having a meltdown. And believe me, I know how fucked up this all sounds. I’ve considered taking a course in psychology, just so I could figure out the crazy going on inside my head.”

“
There’s no explanation for what you’re going through, Tracy. And you’re not crazy. You don’t need Psychology 101 to label your feelings. It’s called anguish and heartbreak. You’re kind of grieving. And just the fact that I’m explaining this to you, is scaring me a little.” JC stated half joking, half serious. “Maybe you should talk to Momma. Do you want me to go get her?”

She shook her adamantly, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. “No. Normal
ly I can discuss anything with Mom, even sex, but I can’t imagine having this conversation with her. I feel better just saying it out loud and getting it off my chest.”

“
I know what you need.”

“Yeah. I need some sleep.”

“No. No more sleep. We’re going out.” JC tossed back the covers, jumped out of bed and headed for Tracy’s closet.

“
No way. I have no interest in going out.”

“Too bad.
Take your pick. Either I go get Momma or you can go out and have a fun-filled evening full of hot guys. Did I mention ski-patrol has a bonfire party every Wednesday night?”

“I’m not you, JC. Going out won’t make me feel better.”

JC emerged from the closet. Ignoring Tracy’s complaints, she dragged an inquisitive scan over her sister’s shape. “And tomorrow we are hitting the gym.”

Color flushed her face. She wrinkled her nose. “Can you really tell I’ve gained ten pounds?”
She ignored the gym for three months and cursed the scale, nearly breaking it when she tapped it too roughly trying to make the number change.

“Only
in your boobs. It’s so unfair,” she scoffed. “Like they need to be any bigger.” JC chucked a pair of skinny jeans and royal blue cable-knit sweater on the bed. “Get dressed. I’m taking you out!”

Tracy shook her head.

“Fine, then you’re taking me out. I’m totally depressed, in case you hadn’t noticed.” JC marched back into the closet returning with a pair of dark brown boots. “As a matter of fact, you’re so caught up in The Italian, and I hate to say it bluntly, but I’m going to, The Italian who never called! that you haven’t bothered to ask me, Hey lil’ sis! How’s your modeling going? Do you love it? Do you hate it?”

“I’m sorry.
You’re right. I’ve been pathetically preoccupied drowning in dejection,” she acknowledged. “Do you love it?”

“Yes,
I do. And as a matter of fact I think I’ve actually found something I’m good at.”

“You’re good at everything you do.”

“Don’t try sucking up to me now,” she teased. “I think I’ve found a profession that I actually enjoy. You’ve always had dance and college, I never found anything that inspired me.”

Tracy interrupted with a fake cough
and a playful dig. “Hmm funny, I always thought hot boys motivated your class schedule.”

Ignoring her
sister, JC continued without blinking an eye, “I don’t know if I’m going to enjoy all the people in the industry.”

Tracy raised an inquisitive brow.

“I’ll tell you all about the drama queens while I find you a hot guy to kiss. I know of one or two that will help take your mind off The Italian.”

“G
ood luck.” Her lip curled repulsively. “He was such a good kisser. I mean like mind- blowing good. He was—”

“Stop right there! No more of he was this or he was that. He
is down the road kicking cans and it’s time to move on.”

“I don’t know if I can.”
Hesitation played in her voice, her thoughts reaching deep into her childhood recollections. “Do you remember when we were little and we would spend hours building card houses with dad?”

There was a change in JC’s expression. A teary-eyed softness teetering somewhere between understanding and sorrow at the mention of their father.
She nodded. “We used to fight over the well-worn cards. They were the best. If you got stuck with the shiny cards, you knew your house would be the first to crumble.”

Tracy
agreed with a small nod. “I’ve turned into the shiny deck of cards. Giovanni was so put together, but not perfect and the layers of texture only made him more interesting to me. He was really smart, but not…”

“But not a walking Wikipedia? He didn’t try to impress you by acting all
intellectual?”