Until Now (8 page)

The same wave of fury that tore through me the day he told me his parents were coming tore through me again, but this time, I didn’t have a phone in my hand to squeeze. This time, I wanted to crush his windpipe instead. “The twins are not
bargaining chips
,” I yelled at him. “You don’t use them as pawns to get
revenge
. And why the fuck do you want full custody of them, anyway? You’re never even home.”

“That’s why they’re staying with my parents,” he replied, unruffled by my shouting. “They’re perfectly happy there.”

“Are they?” Had he even called his parents to check on them? I had, on numerous occasions, even though I knew they didn’t want me to. I’d received the same answer each time:
They’re fine
. But since they wouldn’t let me actually speak to the kids, I had my doubts.

“I plan to go and see them whenever I can,” Alan said. “Spend weekends there.”

“Oh.” I threw up my hands, like
How big of you, to make time in your busy schedule to visit your own children
. “So am I invited to come along on these visits, or am I banned on account of being a crazy bitch like my mother?”

Alan laughed.
Laughed
. Like I wasn’t standing right in front of him, angry tears in my eyes, so desperate to visit my brother and sister that I’d willingly spend four hours in a car with him and stay in his judgmental parents’ house just to see their round little faces again. Just to make sure they didn’t forget me.

“Never mind,” I said, and then I swung open the fridge door and snatched up what was left of the Red Stripe. “I already know the answer.”

Incensed, I took the half-empty six-pack in one hand and a bottle opener in the other, and carried both upstairs to my bedroom. Once again, I felt like a young teenager, hiding in my room with stolen alcohol because I didn’t feel up to dealing with life.

Fuck it
, I thought, cracking open the first bottle. My two biggest reasons for behaving like a decent, honorable human being were no longer around to motivate me.

I managed to last three more days in the Redwood Hills house before calling Taylor’s father and stepmother to ask if they’d mind if I moved in sooner rather than later. No problem. I spent Friday and Saturday nights packing up my room, then loaded up my Nissan on Sunday morning, my day off.

The Brogans lived in an established area of the city in a seventy-year-old, two-storey house, renovated inside to look more modern. Taylor’s old bedroom was on the top floor, next to her fifteen-year-old sister Emma’s room. Emma was only there on weekends; during the week, she lived with their mom in Oakfield, a town located a few miles outside the city. Across the hall, there was a bathroom and two more bedrooms, both of which were empty. Taylor’s stepsister, Leanne, had moved to Switzerland a couple of weeks ago after her college graduation, and Jamie, her fourteen-year-old stepbrother, had relocated last year to the bedroom in the finished basement.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here,” I told Taylor’s father for the millionth time as he helped me carry my junk up the stairs.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart,” he said, placing my biggest suitcase next to the bedroom closet. “You know you’re like a daughter to us.”

I smiled. I
had
spent a lot of time here over the years, eating meals at their table and spending entire weekends with Taylor, my sleeping bag spread out on her bedroom rug. We’d grown apart for a few months when I was seventeen and in perpetual self-destruct mode, but I always knew she’d be there if I needed her. Her family, too.

“You won’t even know I’m here,” I said, glancing around the room. It didn’t look much like Taylor’s anymore. They’d turned it into a guest room after she moved in with Michael, complete with throw pillows on the double bed and neutral prints adorning the walls.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Steven said, scratching his beard. He was the quintessential college professor—facial hair, sweaters, charmingly flakey. “We
want
to know you’re here. It’ll be a pleasure having a young woman living with us again.”

“What about Emma?”

“She’s a teenager. There is nothing pleasant about those.”

I laughed, trying not to wince at the resulting throb in my temples. Last night, I’d gone to a cocktail bar with Abby, my co-worker at Bay Street Fitness, and made up for some lost drinking time. My body, no longer accustomed to large amounts of hard liquor, was repaying me with a monster hangover. Hopefully the Brogans wouldn’t notice. They hadn’t said as much, but I knew they wouldn’t appreciate it if I ever came home drunk in the middle of the night, or stayed in bed until noon nursing a dehydration headache. Neither would Taylor, for that matter. I hadn’t told her about my hasty reunion with vodka.

“I’m afraid your first dinner here as an official member of the household won’t be very fancy,” Steven said as we walked downstairs to get the last of my stuff. “Lynn’s just picking up some pizzas on her way home from work this evening.”

I paused on the bottom step. Lynn was a nurse—surely a medical professional would recognize hangover symptoms. “Thanks, but I have plans for dinner tonight,” I said, slightly relieved to have an excuse. In all the craziness of the past few days, I’d almost forgotten about Jane’s invitation to join them for their barbecue today. I didn’t
have
to go—I wanted to. Jane’s family, and all their rowdy normalcy, had a comforting effect on me for whatever reason. I wasn’t truly part of it, but I could pretend. And being around Mason and his cousin made me miss Drake and Lila a little less.

“Ah, I see,” Steven said, giving me a knowing wink.

Seriously?
I knew Taylor had apprised them of my issues with my mother and the twins and Alan, but I didn’t think she’d tell them about Jane and the supposed hots I had for her DILF son. Just as I was dreaming up cruel and unusual ways to repay her, Steve’s stepson appeared in the foyer.

“Hi, Jamie,” I said, smiling. I’d known the kid since he was seven, but his face never turned completely red upon seeing me like it was doing now. He mumbled something unintelligible before scurrying past us to the living room as fast as his tall, gangly body could carry him.

“Terrific,” Steve muttered, watching him go. “Like he isn’t already distracted enough by video games.”

I laughed again. Apparently, now that he was in the throes of puberty, Jamie no longer saw me as a big-sister type.

I hung around the house for another few hours, arranging my new room and getting ready to go out. Like last week, I made sure to call Jane beforehand and ask if I was still invited to dinner, to which she answered, “Of course, silly.” It was a beautiful spring day, sunny and warm, and my hangover had dissipated enough that I was starting to feel ravenous.

The Brogans didn’t have any wine bottles I could re-gift, so I stopped at a bakery on the way to pick up a fresh-baked apple pie. By the time I arrived at the cozy brick house, the warm cinnamon aroma had roused my appetite even more.

This time, the youngest daughter, Nicole, answered my doorbell ring. “Oh, hey,” she said, her blue eyes skimming my outfit—a black knit mid-length skirt and red cowl-neck top. Too dressy for a barbecue, I realized too late. Nicole herself wore ripped skinny jeans and a blue tank top that showed off the intricate tattoos on her slim biceps. “Just come from church?” she asked wryly as she ushered me inside.

I snorted. “No.”

She appraised me again, her lips twitching into an almost-smile that reminded me of her brother, and took the apple pie off my hands. “Everyone’s out back,” she said, gesturing with her head for me to follow her. She led me to the kitchen, where she placed the pie on the counter and then pushed open the garden door to the deck. “The chick who looks like she just stepped out of a
Forever 21
ad is here again,” she announced to her family, most of whom were sitting or standing on the large deck.

“Nicole,” Jane scolded as she rose from her padded wicker chair and smiled at me. “Robin, honey. So good to see you again.” She came over to hug me, and I couldn’t help but melt into it. It wasn’t often that I received heartfelt hugs from parental-type adults.

The rest of the family—same faces as last week, minus Ryan, who I assumed was still at the bookstore—greeted me warmly, and little Mason paused in his game of child-sized horseshoes to come over and hug me too. I liquefied even further, the kid-shampoo-and-peanut-butter scent of him reminding me strongly of Drake and Lila. Missing them was a constant, steady ache, but sometimes I’d see or smell or hear something that intensified that ache into a stabbing pain to the gut, leaving me breathless. Like now.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jane asked. “Wine? Beer? Coke?”

Still feeling the tiny remnants of my hangover, I chose Coke. As Jane headed back inside to get it, her husband Graham stood up from the patio table and offered me his chair. “I have to get the grill started anyway,” he said when I protested. With a nod of thanks, I took his spot between Nicole and the oldest son, Garrett, who was talking about computer stuff with Alicia’s husband, Kenji. Going by their conversation, Garrett was some kind of software developer.

“So what do you do?” I asked Nicole. She looked around my age, maybe a couple of years older. “For a living, I mean.”

“I’m a hair and makeup stylist,” she replied, both hands curled around her bottle of hard lemonade. “Mostly for brides and their wedding parties. And what did you say you did?”

I’d talked about my job and career plans plenty last Sunday, but I reminded her again. We discussed our jobs for a few minutes before Nicole veered the conversation into more personal territory.

“You have a boyfriend?” she asked, peering at my face like she was looking for confirmation on something.

“No, I’m depressingly single. How about you?”

“I’ve, um, never had a boyfriend.” She flicked a chunk of blond bangs out of her eyes and raised her brows at me significantly.

Oh.
Oh
. Now I understood. “I don’t have one at the moment,” I said carefully. “But I
have
had one. Well, more than one. Lots.”

“Ah.” Her cheeks turned slightly pink and she took a long sip of her cooler, smiling at me around the rim. “Too bad for me, then.”

I smiled back at her, feeling flattered. Even though I liked men, being the object of an attractive person’s interest—male or female—was always good for the old ego.

Jane returned with my Coke then and placed it in front of me. I thanked her, and she scurried back inside. “Should I offer to help?” I asked Nicole. I was still unsure about how to tread in situations like these.

“You’re a guest, so no. Take a load off. Fuck,
I
don’t even offer to help.”

I laughed. My first impression of her had turned out to be correct—we were going to get along just fine.

The garden door opened again, revealing Ryan. Before he could even get his bearings, Mason flew up the stairs to the deck and catapulted himself at his father, almost knocking him over. I watched as Ryan’s face lit up with that same disarming smile he’d unleashed last week by my car. He swung his son up into his arms, and Mason wrapped all four limbs around him like an affectionate chimpanzee.

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it,” Nicole said with a tinge of playfulness.

I spun my head around to face her. “What?”

“You, eyeing up my big brother.” She nudged my elbow with hers. “I bet you’d be good for him. You seem normal, and he could really use some normal after that train wreck ex-wife of his.”

My brain whirled, trying to settle on a response. For one, I wasn’t normal, if by normal she meant stable and well-adjusted. Two, I wouldn’t be good for anyone, let alone a vulnerable single dad who’d obviously had his heart broken. And three, my curiosity about this useless train wreck ex-wife of his had now reached a fever pitch. But just as I was about to toss out a line and fish for more info, Jane stepped out onto the deck, arms weighted down with serving dishes, and announced that it was almost time for dinner.

We ate outside, paper plates balanced on our laps because every available surface was covered with food. I’d never seen a family eat so much and not be three hundred pounds each. But an hour later, after dinner had been devoured and cleaned up, I found out at least part of the reason why they all stayed so trim.

“Come on, Robin.” Nicole grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the yard. “We’re going to play some baseball.”

Baseball? The back yard was pretty big for a house in the city, but not quite extensive enough for a proper baseball diamond. Still, they managed, placing paper plates on the grass to represent bases and another one to mark where the pitcher would stand. They obviously did this a lot.

“Um,” I said, peering down at my skirt and heels. Not the best outfit to run around in, and it wasn’t like I could borrow some sweats from Jane. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“Suit yourself,” Nicole said, and went to join her family on the lawn.

Jane had a bad knee, so she begged off too. The two of us sat side-by-side on the deck, wicker chairs facing the yard so we could watch the game. The evening air was cool and brisk and carried the scent of freshly-bloomed flowers. This, along with the lingering smell of the grill, assured me that summer was officially close.

About ten minutes into the first inning, Jane’s son-in-law Kenji appeared on the deck behind us. He was carrying baby Ellie, who’d been napping. I watched as he gazed wistfully at the makeshift baseball field.

“I’ll hold her,” I offered.

He handed the baby over without a moment’s hesitation and took off down the steps. Jane laughed at his eagerness. At first, I was afraid Ellie might have stranger anxiety and start screaming, but she settled on my lap like she was thrilled to be there.

“You’re a natural,” Jane said, watching me.

I shrugged, and Ellie twisted around to look at my face. When I smiled, she smiled back, her entire face lighting up in delight. She looked more like her father with her straight black hair and delicate Asian features. Looking at Jane, with her wavy blond hair and hazel eyes, I never would’ve guessed they were related if I hadn’t known it to be true.

Ellie stayed content on my lap for the next half hour, blowing spit bubbles and waving her arms like she was conducting a symphony. She smelled like the baby body wash that Lila and Drake used to have as babies, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

“Oh!” Jane exclaimed suddenly, causing us both to look her way. “I have to go inside for a moment and…grab a pitcher of water for everyone. Be right back!”

She jumped up and dashed toward the house with uncharacteristic speed, making me wonder if she suffered from a bad stomach as well as a bad knee. But I caught on to her game when I turned back to the yard and saw what she’d seen—Ryan approaching, sweaty and out of breath. I sighed. I’d have to tell Jane, and soon, that I wasn’t interested in dating her son. He was nice to look at, sure, but I wasn’t in a good place for a relationship right now. And from what I’d gathered, neither was he.

“Strike out?” I asked as he gingerly lowered himself into Jane’s vacated chair.

“Yeah.” He shifted in the chair and winced. “And I think I twisted something that’s not meant to be twisted.”