Wednesday (4 page)

That was the comment that gutted
me. She
had
wanted me to ask, but I was so chicken shit then.

“You did?” I said in shock.

“I did.” She smiled her beautiful
Aria smile. Then she reached out to me and that’s all it took.

Pulling her in, I crushed my lips
into hers. She tasted like Dr. Pepper, probably from the soda she used to OD on
while working at the diner, and I couldn’t get enough. I explored her perfect
mouth and it was better than I imagined. My arm fastened around her waist and
the other reached out to cup her head. I held her tight in place, terrified
she’d run.

She didn’t and it was… like nothing
I’d ever experienced. Even now. Nothing’s compared to that moment. It was like
falling, or dying. Yes, dying the most perfect death.

She wrapped her arms around my neck
and I half-carried, half-dragged her into the house, never breaking the kiss. I
set her on the couch, gently covering her body with mine.

At least that’s how I remember it.
Though I’m sure I was less suave about the whole thing. I had wanted her for so
long, it was hard as hell to keep it together. But when I parted her lips with
my tongue, she welcomed it. And when I pushed against her with all my weight,
she moaned.

Fucking moaned.

It was the sweetest sound I ever
heard. I could still feel the way my entire body lit up in that moment. The zip
of electricity that made me ache with want.

I yanked her T-shirt from her jeans
and that time there was nothing suave about it. It was clumsy and impatient,
but the way her fingers dug into my shoulder blades told me I was doing
something right.

My hand slid under her shirt,
gliding over her waist, up her rib cage, leaving goose bumps in its wake. When
it reached the side of her breast, time stood still. I moved slowly, ghosting
my fingers over her, lightly grazing her nipple as it pebbled at my touch.

I’m sure this was about the time my
eyes rolled back in my head. I’m also sure it was when I stopped breathing all
together. 

The next minute, however, was still
a complete blur. What was once soft and slow turned fast and frantic. Hands
were grabbing. Clothes flying. Bodies grinding.

But just as fast as it started, it
ended in a painful halt. I’d never felt so empty.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Aria said, out
of breath.

Though certain parts of my body
paid her no mind, my brain was on top of it, shutting everything down.

“What?” I said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she whispered.

“You don’t want to do this?” I
asked, cringing as I waited for her answer.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s the
problem. I want this. But with you, I want
–
”

She cut herself off and I pulled
both of us upright so I could look her in the eyes.

“Well.” She put a hand to my cheek.
“I just want it to be special with you.”

Emphasis on the
you.
Which
meant it hadn’t been special with someone else. Which meant… fuck!

Alex Anders.

“But I promise. I’ll be back,” she
said before she left.

It was a broken promise. And now as
I sit here all this time later, and after meeting Cade, it finally makes sense.
Shit, I do the math. 

The reason we weren’t together was
because of that night at the dance. The night that
hadn’t
been special
for Aria. At that point I know just how badly I fucked everything up when I
gave Alex his opportunity.

Aria must have found out she was
pregnant later that spring. It was why she’d never see me again and why she
married
him
.

It had to be.

I have only been
with two men in my life
–
only had sex with one of
them
–
and yet I’m already damaged goods. Not that anyone ever came outright
and said it, but I can always tell what people are thinking. It’s one of my
many gifts.

In Iowa, Alex’s friends thought I
was a slutty gold digger catching a free ride on his train to the NFL. Here?
I’m a washed-up girl with a shit-ton of baggage. Though if Alex was here with
me, I’m sure the town would have a parade in our honor. People are so messed
up.

Even Tristan.

There was judgment in his eyes when
he looked at me and Cade. But I could also feel tension – possibly of the
sexual variety – rolling off him. Yes, I still had an effect on him. And as
much as I hated to admit it, he still had an effect on me, not that it
mattered.

I mean, while most of my friends
are now hitting double digits in their number of bed buddies, that part of
my
life is over. I am officially closed for business. Though after my run-in
with Tristan, someone needed to explain that to the rest of my body. 

  I know I shouldn’t be thinking
about this now. It’s so not the time to cloud my vision with sex. But let’s
just say Tristan makes me feel all the things.

The way he filled out that T-shirt
he was wearing; I so wanted to see just how much he bulked up from high school.
He’d always been hot. Even though he never fit into the typical dream guy box,
the girls were definitely interested. Funny, I’m not sure he ever got that.
Maybe because he intimidated them. His self-awareness, intelligence, and
confidence made him seem off-limits to most girls. Maybe that’s why I always
felt special that he chose to spend his time with me.

I was so glad when Cade interrupted
our moment at the grocery store because I was getting flustered. Until I caught
the way he looked at us – Cade and me. That’s what I need to remember. He’s an
asshole. Just like Alex. Just like my dad – who I never met, but the fact that
he left before I was born gave me a good idea. 

Assholes.

I would never depend on one of
their kind ever again. Instead, I would make sure my son never became one of
them. Looking at him now, Popsicle in his hand as he sits with his Nana on the
sidewalk, he is perfect. The one thing I did right.

“Hey buddy.” I grab a seat on
Cade’s left side. “You gonna share that?” He turns toward Mom, hiding his treat
from me. “Okay. So that’s how it’s going to be?”

“He deserves it.” Mom beams,
clearly in her element. “My big boy. Growing like a weed.”

Cade snuggles against her, getting
grape Popsicle all over her shirt – not that she cares one bit.

“So how are
you
settling
in?” she asks.

We’ve already unpacked and Mom was
right, there’s plenty of room. She even decorated Cade’s room in cars, his
favorite. He loves it and the place feels warm and welcome. At least inside.
Too bad we have to leave our house and face people every day.

“Good,” I tell her, though I still
can’t be sure.

“You look tired, honey.”

“Well, a twenty-hour car ride will
do that to a girl.”

“I suppose,” she says. “But I think
there’s more to it than that. You seem tapped out. When was the last time you
did something for yourself?”

“What do you mean? I’m sitting
outside on a beautiful spring day with my two favorite people. Doesn’t get much
better than this.”

“I agree.” She reaches over and
rubs my back. “But what about a movie with a girlfriend or a long walk?”

“You know better than I do how hard
it is when you’re on your own.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of being
back home, my dear,” she says, eyes dancing.  Her long dark hair hangs over her
shoulder with a perfect stripe of white framing her face.  I forgot how
gorgeous she is – a true Italian beauty. 

“You aren’t on your own anymore,”
she continues. “You have me. And one condition of living under my roof is that
you take some time to yourself. We start today. Let’s call it Wild Wednesday.”

I shake my head. My mother, always
making an event of everything.

 “I want Wild Wednesday too,” Cade
pipes up.

“Then you shall have it,” Mom tells
him. “It’ll be our evening to do anything you want.”

“Park?” Cade asks.

“Yes, the park. We’ll have a picnic
down there for dinner. As for you
–
” Her demeanor turns a
bit more serious. “You are free to go do something for yourself.”

“Mom, I can’t do that to you.
You’ve already done so much for us.”

“We’re not arguing about this.
You’ll be better for everyone if you have a little breathing room. Plus, it
gives me a chance to catch up on all the Grandma time I missed. I’m not taking
no for an answer.”

I know she wouldn’t. Still, I have
no idea what to do. An evening to myself? What a completely foreign concept. 

***

Mom wasn’t kidding. At six o’clock,
she kicks me out. I say my goodbyes, grab my purse and sweatshirt, and take the
car down to the beach. 

It’s a nice warm evening so I
decide to go for a run, something I haven’t done in years. Once I get down to
the beach, I soak it all in. The smell of the salt water and the sound of the
crashing waves. Until this very moment, I had no idea how much I missed it.

I slip my shoes off and slide my
keys inside them and then I take off. I know I’d last longer with my sneakers
on, but I crave the sand in my toes.  I always have.

Starting out at a turtle’s pace, I
try to fall into a rhythm. It takes me a good half mile to get my breathing
down and it isn’t easy. My throat burns and I’m taking in too much air. Chasing
after Cade has kept me slim, but my cardio fitness is completely lacking. And
the extra resistance from fighting the sand has my calves on fire.  

Focusing on each breath, I slow my
panting. Inhale. Exhale.

Soon, I’m able to take in the
sights. The patterns of the seagulls in flight. The ships in the distance, the…

“Agh,” I scream as a sharp pain
shoots across the bottom of my foot.

Falling to the sand, I clamp a hand
around my ankle and pull my foot up to assess the damage. My stomach turns when
I see a huge piece of green glass lodged in the ball of my foot.

Gently, I work to get a grip on the
glass. I can’t. My insides are rolling, I’m getting light- headed, and feel
like I might pass out. I’ve never been good at this sort of thing.

And you’re going to school to be a
nurse. Nice one, Aria.

Punching the sand, I try to get a
grip.  “Motherfucker,” I finally scream at the top of my lungs. And it feels so
good, I let it fly. “Shit, fuck, shit.”

How the hell am I going to get back
to my car?

“Not the greeting I was hoping
for,” a deep voice says from above.

Tristan. That is just perfect.

Then I realize how close I am to
the beach house. Strange.

“So what kind of mess did you get
yourself into now?” he asks, condescending as shit.

Man, if I could get this glass out
of my foot I know exactly where I’d put it.

“Not my fault,” I growl, trying to
focus as the world begins to sway.

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out.

“Some asshole left a broken bottle
on the beach,” I add.

“Oh, Aria.” He sighs. “This is why
you don’t run on the beach barefoot.”

It’s something he used to tell me
all the time in high school. Though he was nicer about it then. Can’t believe
I’d forgotten that, how he always used to look after me. 

Tristan pulls his eyebrows together
and bends down to take a look. When his hand touches my leg, I jump.

“Geez,” he says, wrapping an arm
around my shoulder. “Hurts that bad, huh?”

He has no idea. Though it isn’t my
foot that has me on edge. I relax a little so he can take a look. Then before I
know what he’s doing, I’m in the air. In his arms, actually, as he makes his
way up to the house.

“Tristan, put me down.” I bat at
his chest.

“You can’t walk on this until I get
the glass out. We need to clean it too or you’re going to get a nasty
infection.”

Shit, he’s getting to me again.

This is so not good.

Tristan swings the door open and
sets me on the couch and in my head I’m eighteen again and about to have the
most mind-blowing kiss of my life. The place looks exactly the same: one open
area with a kitchen, dining and lounging space, and bathroom.  And I’m sure
there are still two bedrooms upstairs.  A traditional cottage with white
woodwork and distressed wooden floors. Large windows and protective shutters. 
Goose bumps pepper my skin as I remember the last time I was here.

“So where’s the kid?” Tristan asks
as he fishes around for the first aid kit in the bathroom.

His tone yanks me back to the
present and the goose bumps disappear. Right, he’s an asshole.

“Cade.” I draw out the word. “Is
with his grandmother.”

Tristan comes back with his
supplies and simply nods at my irritated response. Then he gets to work on my
foot.

“It’s a nasty laceration,” he says.
His voice sends an unwelcome tingle down my spine. This is not the same
Tristan. The sweetness is gone. Oh sure, he’s concerned about my foot – but in
a more aggravated
now I have to deal with this shit
kind of way.

And the effect is slightly
pleasurable, which tells me it’s been way too long since a man’s bestowed
attention on me. And mirroring the behavior of a neglected child, or animal, I
accept it willingly because any attention, even negative, is better than
nothing, right?

Aria tenses at my
mention of her son. I’m not sure if I said something wrong or what, but she
flashes me that irritated scowl I am coming to know intimately.

So I push.

“Nice to have a break, then,” I say.

“It wasn’t my idea. Mom insists on
throwing me out of the house on Wednesdays.”

Well, isn’t that a coincidence.

“I’m sure the girls will love
that,” I say, remembering Aria’s pack of beach brats she liked to hang out with
in high school. Most of them never left so I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of
time before the old gang is back together.