Page 45

TOMMY

“Got the steak. Made potato salad and regular salad. Got soda for Franky. And wine for Alana.” I stride from my kitchen sink to the table.

Then back. Then around again as nervous energy sends me into a meltdown.

“I don’t even know if she likes wine. But it’s classy, right?

It’s what people have with dinner. Tequila is for bad choices. ”

“You look like an idiot, just so you know.” Chris sits on the counter, his feet crossed at his ankles and a cold beer nestled between his hands.

“Remind me again; are you playing nice so she’ll spill her secrets and you’ll get your revenge, or are you in love and completely incapable of surviving if she walks again? ”

“Shut up.” I stop in the middle of my dining room and push my hands through my hair. Scratching my scalp and tugging the locks. Anything so I can feel something other than nerves. “Don’t mention any of those things while she’s here.”

“What things? Revenge?” He sips his beer. “Love? Complete and utter devotion to someone other than yourself?”

“Yes. Those things.” The sound of tires on my driveway sends my heart into a galloping frenzy. The reality that she’s here, in the house I bought for her, on the lake we fell in love in, makes my pulse skitter and my hands sweat.

My hands are sweating!

“Fuck.” I grab paper towels and wipe my palms like a fucking idiot, striding to the trash can and stomping my foot on the pedal that pops the lid open. “You wanna see her. You like Franky. I wanna see her. I like Franky. It’s gonna be like how it used to be, except now we have Franky, too.”

“And he’s kind of the coolest little dude I’ve met since… ever.”

“Exactly! He’s cool. He’s smart. He’s protective as fuck; I can get behind that. He’s his mother’s son, for sure, with her sass and ability to put me on my ass with just a look.”

“And the fact she has a husband?”

“We don’t talk about that.” I release the trash lid and stride to my back door.

Which works out, since the front door is all the way on the opposite side of the house, away from the driveway, the porch we sit on at the end of a long day, the view I bought, and the memories I like to keep bottled up, right here where a large portion of them were created.

“We don’t talk about the husband?” Taunting, like he enjoys seeing me sweat through my shirt, Chris drops to his feet and follows me across the kitchen to hover near my shoulder.

“Pretty sure, here in the Plainview, the fact she’s married to someone else, but banging my brother, is actually illegal.

You want Ollie’s dad to come over here and lock her up for her adulterous actions? ”

“It’s not adultery.” I shove him back and watch through the glass panes of my door as Alana and Franky climb out of their car. “They’re separated, so shut the fuck up.”

“She’s married.” He taunts, whistling under his breath. “Do you ever feel like there was a glitch in time? Like, we saw Ollie get older. And Eliza. You and me. We saw it all, so it’s fine. But she bolted at eighteen and came back at twenty-eight. It’s like the ten years between didn’t exist.”

“Shush. They’re coming up the stairs.”

“And of course, they did exist. Since that’s when she grew up and got hitched and all that. My logical brain knows it. But sometimes, when I’m not concentrating, I forget. So then I’m surprised when I see her again.”

“Yep. Now shut up.” I rearrange my expression and paste on a friendly smile, then I open the door before they get a chance to knock, looking to Franky first and the little chessboard he carries tucked under his arm. “Hey.” I set my hands on my hips and wait for his hazel eyes.

If he was a toddler, I’d get down on his level, crouching so I’m not towering over him.

But he’s not a toddler. He’s not fully grown, either.

He’s in this weird in-between age, and I figure, if I try to crouch, or God forbid, bend at the hips and fold myself in half, he might pop me in the face with the same jab I’ve been teaching him down at the gym.

“You brought your own chessboard? We have one if you wanna try ours.”

“I like mine.” He studies me through dirty lenses. “Mine’s magnetized, so the pieces don’t accidentally fall over.”

“Smart. Thanks for coming.”

“It’s okay. Did you start cooking yet?”

“Franklin,” Alana warns in a murmur. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’ve got the grill already warming,” I tell him. “Just as soon as we’re ready, we can toss the steaks on. Then, ten minutes after that, it’s time to eat. You hungry?”

He merely shrugs, peeking past me and smiling at my brother.

I mean, it’s not like I think he hates me or anything. But damn, he for sure prefers Chris’ company.

“We had a snack at three,” Alana fills in when Franky wanders through the open door. She links unadorned fingers in front of her sundress and anxiously fidgets. “We’re not starving. But we’re ready to eat when you are.”

“You look pretty.” I step forward instead of back, and surprise her when I pull the door closed behind me. Then I take her hand in mine and bring it up.

She’s made a change, a massive change, and my obsessed brain can’t help but notice. “You took your ring off.”

“Oh…” Nervous, she nibbles on her lip. “Yeah. I’ve mailed it back to Colin.”

“He asked for it back?” That cheapskate motherfucker. Now he’s gonna nickel and dime her all the way through divorce. “Aren’t rings a gift? They don’t have to be returned.”

“I wanted to.” She draws a breath, filling her lungs and expanding her chest. Then, exhaling again, she brings her eyes up and rewards me with a sweet smile. “I suppose you’re probably intent on hating Colin. He’s the villain in your story.”

“Obviously.” I draw her closer and slide my hand around to rest on the small of her back. Mine. Mine. All mine. “He kinda swooped in and married the girl I was gonna marry. Gonna be honest; felt a little unfair to me.”

I lean in, intending to take her lips with mine, but she backs away and gives me her cheek instead.

Ouch.

“Colin isn’t the bad guy, Tommy.” She reaches around and grabs my wrist, peeling my hand away from her body.

I could stop her. I’m stronger. But there hasn’t been a single moment in our lives when she couldn’t control me, body and soul.

“He’s actually a really decent guy. He’s very kind. Generous. Sweet.”

“Forgive me for not giving a shit about the guy who stole the woman I loved. If he was so generous, he’d understand the tradition of wedding rings.

As in, they’re intended to be a safety net for women in the event of separation.

You’re supposed to sell the ring and use that money to support yourself. ”

“I don’t need that money to support myself, and the ring belonged to his mother and grandmother. It’s only right that I send it back.” She attempts to step around me. “Should we go in?”

“Thirty more seconds.” I yank her back and bury my nose in her hair, right where I smell lavender most. “I can’t touch you in front of Franky, so I just need?—”

“You shouldn’t touch me at all.” She slips out of my reach again, robbing me of what I want so desperately to have. Smell. Taste. But she takes my hand, at least, twining her fingers between mine and looking up into my eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“You said that last time.” I press a kiss to her wrist and grin when her thundering pulse pounds against my lips. “You say no, but then you say yes . Then you try to backtrack to how we should just be friends and?—”

“And how it would be best for you to see me as a friend.” Gently, she peels her hand free of mine and destroys me with pity in her eyes.

Anger, I can deal with. Rage is even better. I can handle her tears—most of the time—and fuck knows, I can be what she wants when she’s wet and needy.

But pity… pity is where men go to die.

“I think we could use the next little while to learn to get along,” she murmurs. “To be in the same space and be friends.”

“We are in the same space. We’re even getting along.”

“You’re trying to wear me down.” She lays her hand on my chest, predicting my next move. “We need to learn how to coexist, but not be together.”

“I disagree.”

“For the sake of your happiness,” she groans. “We both know it’s the right thing to do. And of course, it’s not going to be fun at first. No one likes change.”

Oh, you mean like how you left ten years ago, sneaking out of town without a word of warning and no chance to change your mind?

“I think you’ll eventually realize I was right.

Once the hard part is done and hearts are mended, and you meet someone else…

Someone better.” Her voice crackles with the lies she speaks.

The fucking atrocities she attempts to will into existence.

“If you really tried, we could be doing dinner like this again in two or three years. I’ll still be here.

And Franky, too. But you’ll have healed, and whoever you choose, whoever is lucky enough to capture your heart, maybe she’ll be here, too. ”

“You’re lying to us both,” I growl. “You’re gonna come to a fuckin’ barbecue while I have this hypothetical lover on my arm? She’ll be pretty. Maybe even blonde. She’ll have amazing tits and legs for days.”

Her eyes flash with bitter hatred.

“She’ll be sitting on my lap since you know I like that.

” Remember, Alana! Remember back to what it was like before.

“When I’m no longer fighting for my life and trying to stop a woman from running away all the damn time, you know I like to pull up a chair and keep her close.

A beer in one hand and her leg in the other. ”

“Exactly.” It’s like she’s sucking on a lemon. Her lips, twisting in anger and her voice breaking on the word. “You see it, too. The future you could have, if only you’d try.”