Broken Promises (21 page)

Derrick groans as his brother cackles from the living room a few feet away. He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me, and slips into a seat. He takes my hand. “Is everything all right with Katie?”

“Yeah, we just had a bit of a fight.” My stomach twists. I didn’t plan on talking about this with other people listening. I don’t want to make Katie look bad either, or cause the jealous green monster to arise again.

That’s a strange thing—jealousy. When I was younger, it drove me crazy when a guy acted jealous. It was hard to stay with someone when they were like that, always sneering at other men and oozing testosterone from every orifice. It gets old. But Derrick’s lack of jealousy with Trystan bothers me. We did date. I did sleep with the man. I don’t understand why it doesn’t bother him. It must be an act for my benefit. It sounds silly, but I wish he’d tell me that it bothered him—just a little—that Trystan is around. Instead, Derrick and Trystan are shopping for BFF charms. I’m not sure how that happened. It’s what I wanted, so I should shut up, but still.

“Mari, is Katie going to be in the wedding?” The sound of the knife slicing through carrots and tapping on the cutting board draws me back to the present. “I heard she’s your best friend. Derrick speaks highly of her.”

My eyebrows slide up my face and disappear under my bangs. “He did what now?”

Katie and Derrick have never been chummy. She always saw him as a placeholder, and he knows it, so this is a little weird. Derrick smiles and leans in and bumps my shoulder with his. “She’s teasing you, Ma. Of course I like Katie.”

Jared fake-sneezes something that sounds like bullshit.

Derrick ignores it, as does everyone else. “Katie’s had a rough time. Her husband recently died in combat.”

“I remember you mentioning that. I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible.” She dumps the veggies in a pot of boiling broth and turns to face us, resting a hip against the counter. “Did you know him well?”

“Yes, we went to high school together. Seth was the kind of guy you couldn’t miss and didn’t forget. They hated each other at first, and then something changed.” I can’t help but smile as I think about it.

“Mom, wasn’t it like that with you and Dad?”

She has a far off look in her eye and nods her head. She grabs a raw chicken and starts deboning the thing quickly and tossing the meat into a hot frying pan. It sizzles on contact. She adds a few spices and the kitchen suddenly smells delicious.

Derrick goes on to tell me the story of how his parents met. It’s not as love/hate as Katie and Seth, but they had an awesome story. She explains, “No one thought we’d be a good pair, but I knew.” She has a far off look on her face and then continues. “We’d both had hard lives and had to learn to trust again, but that was all it took. Trust is an important thing in a marriage.”

Derrick and I sit, chatting with her until dinner is ready. Jared joins us for soup and fried chicken with cornbread. Apparently it’s their favorite. The two of them are so close in age I sometimes forget Derrick is older.

I’m just starting to feel at ease when things get really weird. Derrick’s mom sits at the table, silently eating her meal, making pleasant conversation while the guys start ribbing her. It seems like they’re having fun at first, but the tone shifts, and I know her smile isn’t real anymore.

The backhanded compliments flying from Jared’s mouth are alarming. Derrick says nothing in her defense, laughing and joining in as the mood strikes him.

Jared picks up a piece of chicken. “Dinner is pretty good, Ma. Oh, you remember when Dad used to make this meal? It was so good, Mari. There’s just something about food when a guy cooks it. No offense Mom, but you know what I mean, it can’t be replicated.”

Derrick agrees and stuffs his face with the cooking he’s saying is subpar. “Yeah, Dad made this meal for years, Mari. It had this extra kick. It’s hard to explain, but you remember, right Ma?”

She nods and pokes a carrot with her fork. “I do. Your father was a good cook.”

Jared jumps conversational tracks. “So, who’s going to be chained to the stove when you guys are married? You or Mari?”

I laugh, not taking it seriously, but Derrick is confident. “Mari. Wait, you don’t want to cook for me?”

“Sometimes, but I work long hours, Derrick. It’s not going to be an everyday occurrence. We’ve talked about this.”

He gives his plate a grumpy look and stabs a piece of chicken. “I thought you were kidding.”

“The wife’s place is in the kitchen,” Jared says as if he has three wives chained up somewhere baking him a feast.

“Funny.” I point at him and then turn to his Mom. “This is delicious. My mom never cooked anything like this for me. Your boys are lucky to have you.”

She smiles weakly and doesn’t answer. There’s something going on here I’m not seeing. What sucked the wind out of her so abruptly? Before I can pinpoint it, she’s up and cleaning. Derrick and Jared don’t clear the table or offer to help. They just sit there bitching about some game on TV last night.

I smack Derrick’s elbow and scold him. “Get up and help your Mom.”

His face twists in that are-you-nuts expression. “She likes doing this for us, right Ma?”

“Of course. Why don’t you all go into the living room? I’ll put on the coffee.”

The guys leave, but I linger. I start clearing the table, and she doesn’t say anything. It’s not until I’m standing next to her scrubbing a pot that she speaks. “So, things with Derrick are good?”

“Yeah, we get along well.”

Her face crumples, but she doesn’t look over at me. “That’s good. Sometimes he seems so much like his father.” She says that like it’s a bad thing but doesn’t elaborate.

The conversation shifts to the wedding and our new plans of having a small gathering with close friends and family only. By the end of the night, I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to stay here. There’s a weird tension in the air.

Around midnight, I push off of Derrick’s chest. “I think I’m going to head home. Katie should have cooled down by now.”

“Why don’t you stay?” He kisses my forehead and pushes my hair out of my face.

Jared groans and covers his face with a pillow. “Don’t make out in front of me. I’ll have to burn my eyes out, and no one wants anything to happen to these beautiful babies.” He drops the pillow and blinks at his brother. Jared is sitting across from us on a beat up chair.

Derrick puts a hand behind my neck and pulls me in hard, crushing his mouth on mine and leaning me back into the couch. I fight him, because I don’t like kissing in front of other people, and Jared is hard to swallow on a good day. I smack his chest with my hands, pushing him back.

His lips are locked on mine as he crushes me with his body. I squeal and shove him hard. He doesn’t stop until his mother is in the doorway. Derrick gets a sheepish look on his face, sits up, and grins.

I shove him. “You can be an asshole sometimes, you know that?” Jared brings out the worst in Derrick. It's as if the two of them are constantly trying to one-up each other on the dick scale.

Before Derrick can reply, his mom is standing next to me. “It was lovely meeting you.” She leans in and gives me a hug, and whispers in my ear, “He really adores you.” When she pulls away, her hands are on my shoulders, and she walks me to the door with Derrick following.

He holds the door open and lets me pass through, then walks me to my car. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Well, I did.” My arms are folded tight over my chest, and my fists are shoved into the crooks of my elbows.

“Got it. I won’t try to kiss you again.” He sounds pissed.

“Derrick, don’t be like that. You know I don’t like having an audience, so don’t make me.”

He nods. “Right, sorry. I mean it. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He’s sincere and charming, but something feels off. It’s nothing huge, just this little sensation in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know why it’s there. Guys can be assholes, and everyone knows when two guys are together, their assyness increases. But they pretty much attacked their mom tonight, and she didn’t fight back. It’s like her spine was sucked from her body. She morphed from one woman into another, and then back again.

Maybe she’s going through something.

“Love you, babe. Be careful driving home. Call me when you get there, okay?”

I agree, and I’m pulling away, thinking about everything and not specifically thinking about anything. I drive past my exit and don’t realize where I’m going until I’m entering the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. The yellow lights whoosh by as I enter Manhattan around 2 am. I find a place to park at the end of the block and head toward his building. I stop in front of the glass doors and stare. I want to talk to someone. Katie’s mad at me and that leaves Dad or Trystan.

I shouldn’t be here. He’s a guy. I’m getting married. Shouldn’t I be talking to Derrick about this? I would, but since it’s about him and his mom, I can’t. I’m not going to Dad. Although he’s tried to fix things between us, he’s still a novice on the parental card. I think about it for another second and turn away. I can’t bother him in the middle of the night about another guy. That seems wrong to me.

It shouldn’t.

But it does.

I slam into a hard chest and splay my hands on a worn leather jacket, and pry my body away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mari? What’s wrong?” Trystan is standing in front of me with tousled hair and rosy cheeks. His gray shirt is sticking out from under his jacket, and I can see the seams. It’s inside out. He was with someone.

My bottom lip curls down and my lower eyelids fill with tears. Before I can speak, his arms are around my shoulders, and we’re walking inside. “Mari, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head and silently cry on his shoulder. When we’re in his penthouse, we pass the foyer and head straight to the couch. He sits me down and by the way he’s acting, you’d think there was nothing wrong with him. You’d have no idea his eyes betrayed him just like everything else in his life. Trystan crouches in front of me, his hands on my knees, and he’s looking at me from the side of his eyes.

“Don’t cry, Mari. Talk to me.”

“Why are you so great? Compared to you, my problems seem like nothing, and yet you drop all your worries to help me. I didn’t even have to ask.” My voice is soft and scratchy. I blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears.

He’s looking at me, and that gaze bores into me. For once, I’m not afraid. I let it. His hands find mine, and he rubs his thumb along the back of my hand, looking into my eyes like he can see my soul. The corner of his lips pulls up. “You never have to ask.”

“Why? Why do you know what to do and what to say to me? You always know, and he doesn’t. Katie doesn’t. No one understands me the way you do, and being here makes me feel guilty.” All the thoughts merge and come out as one sentence with a single rush of air. I try to lower my head, but Trystan leans in closer, and I end up pressing my forehead to his.

“I think you know why and I’m just glad it’s there. I can still see the shape of your face, but I can’t read your eyes anymore. If I touch you, I can feel your thoughts. I know what you’re feeling. I don’t know why I have that with you, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. You shouldn’t feel guilty for having a friend.” He squeezes my hand and pulls away, moving to sit on the couch next to me.

“That’s not what I mean. I can’t be here and dump this on you. I don’t even know what we are…” the question hangs in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled. I shouldn’t have said that. My jaw twitches and before I can bite it back, the question is out of my mouth. “Do you still care about me?”

Trystan is still, barely breathing. We’re not touching, not invading each other's thoughts. I’ll only know the answer to this if he chooses to tell me. The silence stretches on until all the hairs on my body are standing on end.

I stand, ready to run out, but Trystan is up and grabs my wrist. He pulls me back to him roughly and puts his other hand on my face and threads his fingers through my hair. “Why are you asking this now? What happened?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” Tears slip out of my eyes without my consent and roll down my cheeks. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You keep saying that like something bad is going to happen if you stay. Are you afraid of me?” His voice trails up as he asks as if he’s surprised. My lips part but I can’t answer him. My heart pounds like I’m going to die and I’m trembling. Fear is racing through my veins and making me act like someone else. He drops his hands and steps away with a hurt look on his face. “I see.”

“Don’t do this to me, not now.” My neck is so tight I can’t swallow, and I feel close to having a full-blown panic attack.

“I’m not the one doing it, you are.” He steps away, and walks to the kitchen. He grabs a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of water from the fridge. He fills it and walks back to me. “Here, calm down. Try to trust me. I won’t hurt you, Mari. You’re safe. I promise.”

I take the water, chug it, and then hold it between us, like it can prevent me from feeling any of this. Trystan keeps his distance but doesn’t sit. We’re both standing a few feet from each other, neither of us speaking. I wish he’d step closer. I wish he’d wrap his arms around me and let me cry until I fall asleep.

“Thank you.” My voice is weak, nervous.

Trystan is watching me, and it doesn’t matter that he can no longer see me because it feels like he can see through me. He takes a few steps, closes the distance, and takes the glass from my hand. He sets it down on the coffee table and swallows hard. He opens his arms wide and stands there, waiting for me. “Of course. Come here. Cry, get it out of your system, and we can talk tomorrow.”

I’m frozen in place. I should be able to go to him. I want to, but my feet won’t move. The longer Trystan stands there, the lower his arms move. They inch down little by little until it’s clear I’m not taking his comfort. My skin feels like ice, and I want his hands on my arms to thaw me. I want to drop my defenses and see what’s left of the girl I was, because I felt like she died with my mother, but when I’m around Trystan I’m not so certain.