This Time Around, page 5
“Absolutely! Where would you like to do it?”
“Upstairs. Come on, you can sit on my bed and work the iPod.”
The idea of his mother serving as a DJ to a ten-year-old made Jack smile, or maybe that was the sight of his mom and his little girl looking so happy to see each other. Paige didn’t have a close relationship with Caroline’s parents, who lived in Florida and visited once a year at best. The girl saw her aunt Missy—Caroline’s sister—a couple times a year, but the visits had become less frequent as more time passed since Caroline’s death. That left Jack’s mom serving dual roles as primary grandma and the lone, consistent female presence in Paige’s life.
Considering she’d raised Jack alone, he knew she was up to the task.
Paige and her grandma were halfway up the stairs now, Jack completely forgotten. It was just as well, since he needed to head back to the temp office he’d rented so he could nail down the final details of Clearwater’s move to Portland. He had contracts to review, moving trucks to coordinate, job postings to consider, transfers to—
“Hey, Daddy?”
Jack looked up at the top of the stairs where his little girl was biting her lip. “I think I left my sweater at Allison’s house last night.”
—and sweaters to retrieve, he added to the growing to-do list.
“What have we talked about, Paige Anne?” he scolded. “About being more responsible for our belongings?”
God, he sounded like a parent, or like Allie used to sound when he’d lost his damn keys for the hundredth time.
The thought of Allie made him realize that Paige’s forgotten sweater gave him an excuse to see her again. He couldn’t decide whether to feel pissed off or giddy, or pissed off at himself for even thinking the word giddy. Was he sixteen?
“I’ll go get your sweater,” he said. “But you’re going to have to do an extra chore from the chore list to earn it back.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it before you get back. Then me and Grandma will make that chocolate mousse you like.”
“Grandma and I,” he corrected without thinking.
“Nope, just us. Ladies only!” She giggled and ran up the stairs before he could say anything else. It was just as well. He was glad they’d be spending time together. Paige needed more girl time in her life, more female influence than he’d managed to give her in his years as a single dad.
He headed for the door and out to the silver Toyota he’d rented until the moving company brought his Audi out with the rest of their things. He didn’t go for ostentatious sports cars, but he did like nice automobiles. Not that there was anything wrong with the Toyota. He’d owned one in college, though that had been covered in rust spots and sporting an odometer that had keeled over somewhere around three hundred and fifty thousand.
He spent several hours at the office going over contracts, then hit Fred Meyer for a few groceries and toiletries they needed at home. The route back from there took him right by Allie’s place which was a good excuse to grab the sweater. Halfway there, it occurred to him he should probably call first, but he was on the interstate and didn’t have the hands-free option set up in the rental car. Hopefully she was home, and she wasn’t writhing beneath Wade in the throes of ecstasy. The thought made him a little queasy, so he pushed it out of his mind as he turned off the ramp and onto the little side road that led to her place.
As he pulled into the driveway, he noticed a blue BMW that looked like the one she drove in college. That seemed odd. It had been a nice car then, brand new when her parents gave it to her as a high school graduation gift with a personalized plate that read anus tart.
At least that’s how Jack had read it until Allie’s mom sniffed and pointed out that a nu start was a celebration of their baby’s departure for college. Jack hadn’t said so at the time, but he guessed it also underscored their hope Allie would set off for her new life and leave her deadbeat boyfriend behind. Jack got the last laugh there. For a little while, anyway.
As he parked beside it now, he knew it was definitely the same car. The license plates had changed, of course, and it showed a bit of age. Eighteen years was a long time to keep a car, especially for someone with the sort of taste Allie had.
He got out and surveyed the fading paint, the body style that harkened back nearly two decades, and wondered why he hadn’t noticed the car the night before. Peering through the back window, he felt an unexpected rush of nostalgia. He knew that backseat well. He recalled fumbling and groping and having sweaty, passionate sex too many times to count that summer before they started college. Back when they were young and dumb and full of hope and hormones.
Jack clicked the alarm on the rental car and turned to Allie’s place, taking the steps more quickly than he had the night before. He was starting to think showing up unannounced was a dumb idea, and if he hurried, maybe he wouldn’t change his mind. It was a habit he’d started after Allie dumped him and he dropped out of college. In a rare moment of nostalgia, he’d tracked down his father’s number and called him for the first time in years. He’d been hoping for a meaningful father-son talk, maybe even a few words of wisdom.
“Get your shit together, son!” his dad had barked over the phone. “The road is paved with flattened squirrels who couldn’t make up their minds.”
It was one of the last times he’d spoken to his father.
Jack shook off the memory and steeled himself to knock on Allie’s door. He waited, hearing footsteps on the other side.
She answered faster than she had the night before, almost as though she’d been standing right next to it with her hand on the knob.
But as Jack took in her appearance, he decided that was unlikely.
She wore baggy sweatpants with a pink stain on the thigh. Her hair was in a sloppy topknot, and her entire face was covered with something that looked like split pea soup. The television over her shoulder blared something that sounded like Real Housewives of New York City.
Allie gaped at him. “Holy shit.”
And with that, she slammed the door in his face.
CHAPTER FOUR
Allie leaned back against her front door with her eyes closed, listening to the blood pounding in her head.
Or maybe that was Jack knocking.
“Why are you here, Jack?” she yelled through the door.
“Paige forgot her sweater.”
Great. Of course she did. Allie gritted her teeth.
She’d assumed she’d never see Jack again after last night, and she sure as hell wasn’t in any shape for entertaining. The mud mask she’d smeared on her face smelled nearly as bad as the blue silk tank top she’d pulled on before realizing it had hollandaise on the hem. But she hadn’t had the heart to remove it—the shirt or the sauce—because she’d gotten both on a brunch outing with her grandmother just a few months ago.
“Allie?”
“I’m thinking.”
Crap, where was the sweater? She glanced around the living room before remembering she’d stashed it in the coat closet at the far end of the hall like a stupid fucking perfect hostess.
She sighed. “How about I mail it to you?”
On the other side of the door, Jack stayed quiet. She thought for a second he’d gone away, and it annoyed her that she felt the tiniest hint of disappointment. She should probably just grab the damn sweater and toss it to him. It would take all of thirty seconds, and then he’d be on his way and out of her life for good.
“Allie, come on. Don’t be vain. I’ve seen you looking worse.”
“Thanks, Jack. That makes me feel much better.” Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, but she’d infused her voice with enough steel to cover it.
“Just toss it out the door,” he coaxed. “I won’t look at you, I swear. Or just have your fiancé bring it out.”
Something bubbled hot and shameful in her chest. She felt tired and embarrassed and really, really exhausted. Maybe it was the stress of planning her grandma’s funeral. Maybe it was the evening spent surveying the dilapidated B&B. Maybe it was something else entirely. Something that had been brewing long before last night’s silly game of make-believe with Jack.
Before she realized what she was doing, she turned and flung open the door.
Jack jumped back, startled either by the door opening or by her appearance again. Probably both. “Allie—”
“Look, I’ve had the week from hell,” she snapped. “My grandma died on Sunday and I had to visit both my parents in prison to tell them, which was about as much fun as ripping off my own eyebrows with duct tape. I just spent my whole evening crawling around in basements and crawlspaces to realize I’ve just inherited a massive tax liability filled with dry rot and woodpecker holes and cat fur. Pardon me if I’m not thrilled by unexpected company.”
Jack blinked, his expression ashen. “Your grandma died?”
The sympathy in his voice was enough to make her eyes sting with tears. Allie nodded, afraid to trust her own voice.
“God, Allie. I’m so sorry.” He started to reach for her, then seemed to stop himself. “Your dad’s mom? The one with the B&B?”
Again she nodded, and felt something thawing in the center of her chest.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved her. Why didn’t you say something last night? We could have cancelled dinner or—”
“No, we couldn’t, Jack.” Allie shook her head, feeling deflated. “I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted you to see how fabulously awesome my life has turned out without you. I wanted to impress you and your gorgeous wife, so I cleaned my house and faked a fiancé and squeezed into Spanx so tight I still can’t feel my thighs, all so I could spend an enchanting evening listening to you talk about your amazing, perfect life.”
Jack just stared, and it occurred to her she hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. She sounded like a crazy person. Looked like one, too, considering the mud mask and hair that looked like she’d been electrocuted. God, she was pathetic.
“My amazing, perfect life,” he repeated, looking a little dumbstruck. He nodded once, then turned. “Wait here.”
He jogged off down the driveway, and Allie stared after him. She should probably shut the door. This was her chance to lock it behind him and pretend none of this had happened. Last night, right now—hell, maybe even sixteen years ago.
But instead she turned and walked down the hall, leaving her front door wide open. It was probably a dumb move, though not much dumber than opening it in the first place when she looked like this. She opened the coat closet. The little cream-colored sweater was right in front, and Allie pulled it off the hanger.
It had daisies stitched around the collar and on the front pocket, and a silly pang of longing rattled through her chest. She’d always imagined herself buying clothes like this for her own daughter, laughing and smiling as they sipped Italian sodas at the coffee shop next to Nordstrom. She folded it over her arm and walked back to the front door.
Jack had already returned from wherever he’d gone, and had set up camp in her living room. He’d closed the front door and parked himself right in the middle of her sofa with a shopping bag on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up as she walked in, and gave her a smile that made her traitorous heart surge in her chest.
“Hi,” he murmured, and her heart thrummed faster.
“Make yourself at home,” she muttered, trying to muster up some indignation. In truth, she wasn’t that annoyed. It felt good to have another living, breathing human in her home, someone who wasn’t looking at her like she was crazy or pathetic despite all evidence to the contrary.
“Please join me,” he said.
“Just let me change into—”
“No.”
The forcefulness in his voice surprised her, and she was about to tell him to stop bossing her around in her own home. That’s when he reached into his shopping bag and pulled out a box of Crest whitening strips.
Wordlessly, he opened the package and peeled the back off one of the strips. He pressed it against his front teeth, using his oversized fingers to smooth out the edges. He repeated the process on his bottom teeth, then worked his way around the sides.
Allie stood watching, fascinated, not sure if she’d entered some sort of Twilight Zone episode or if she’d finally gone crazy.
“You’re whitening your teeth,” she said unnecessarily.
“Yep,” he said, applying another strip to his teeth. “Would you mind shutting off the TV? This is the episode where Ramona looks at real estate, and I’ve already seen it.”
“You’ve watched Real Housewives of New York City?”
“Yep. It’s my guilty pleasure after Paige goes to sleep. Can I have some of that green face goop?”
Allie stared at him a moment, then picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “Why are you doing this?”
“So you stop feeling embarrassed and exposed and sit down on the damn sofa with me and have a snack.” He put down the box of whitening strips and turned to grin at her.
Allie felt something soften in the center of her chest. “You look like a dork.”
“Yep. That’s the idea.”
The corners of her mouth twitched up, threatening to morph into a smile. “And you can’t eat snacks with those things on your teeth.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” He reached into the shopping bag again and pulled out a can of non-dairy whipped topping. He popped the top off and opened his mouth, aiming straight down his throat.
The hollow, foamy sound was both familiar and foreign, and Allie tried not to remember the times in college when she’d walked in to find him doing this in the kitchen. Or the other times when he’d brought the can of whipped cream into the bedroom and—
“All right,” she said, stepping around the sofa. “You win.” She sat down beside him, her butt landing a little closer to him than she’d aimed for. Her thigh touched his, but it would be awkward to move away, so she grabbed the can of whipped cream out of his hand. She hesitated a second, then squirted it straight onto her tongue.
“Nice,” Jack said.
“This is disgusting.” She lifted the can again and took another hit, enjoying the creamy sweetness more than she expected.
Jack grabbed the can back and squirted another mouthful, smacking his lips. Then he set the can down on the table and rested one massive palm on her knee, just like it belonged there.
“Look, there’s nothing I can say about your grandma that will make this hurt any less,” he said. “Anything I have to offer will just sound trite and clichéd and won’t cancel out the fact that you won’t bake cookies together again, or hear her tell you how much she paid for the antique carving set at Thanksgiving dinner. You’ll never get to hug her or smell those fancy roses she put all over the house. You’ll go to buy Mother’s Day cards and you’ll realize you need to buy one less than you did the year before, and you’ll end up standing there in the aisle at Target bawling like an idiot while people bump into you with their shopping carts, and it’s going to suck like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”
He held her gaze with his, and Allie felt a tear slip through the green goo on her cheek. “Hypothetically speaking,” he added softly.
“Hypothetically speaking,” Allie whispered as the tear dropped onto the leg of her sweats, making another discolored spot. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You get it.”
“I do.”
She bit her lip, then thought better of it when she tasted minty clay. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve spent enough time telling random strangers how one shitty car accident left my kid motherless and made me a widower. I don’t need to relive it.”
“I’m sorry.” Her throat felt thick again, but it was clear from the look on Jack’s face that he didn’t want her to ask more questions. “And I take back what I said about your amazing, perfect life. You’ve obviously been through some tough stuff.”
He nodded and picked up the whipped cream can again. He tilted his head back and took another hit, and Allie felt her shoulders relax for the first time since she’d gotten the call about her grandma.
When they looked at each other again, there was something different between them. Allie couldn’t put her finger on it, but it felt like things had shifted.
“So . . . Wade—” Jack prompted. “Not your fiancé after all?”
Allie shook her head, grateful to the green goo for hiding her flaming cheeks. “Not my fiancé. Sorry. I spent yesterday evening worrying you’d notice the engagement ring I was wearing was an old pinkie ring my grandmother used to wear.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I kept close track of your grandmother’s pinkie rings.” He picked up her left hand, an absent gesture, but one that sent goose bumps up Allie’s arm. He studied her bare hand, turning it from side to side before setting it back on the sofa. His palm rested lightly on the back of her hand, and Allie wondered if it was force of habit or something else that left his fingers touching hers.
“So Wade’s just a friend, then?”
Allie hesitated, then nodded. “Yep. Just a friend.”
“So you’re not sleeping with him?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Hey, we’re putting it all out there, right?”
Allie shrugged and took the whipped cream from him. She fiddled with the nozzle. “Wade’s just a great friend. The two of us have zero chemistry.”
“I kinda noticed.”
Allie snorted. “Thanks.”
He shrugged and took another hit of whipped cream. “Figured we’re being open and honest and everything.”
Allie glared at him, though she wasn’t actually annoyed. Mostly just ready to move on with the conversation. “So who is Lacey, anyway?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You told me last night that you didn’t care.”
“I don’t,” she said, pretty sure that was true.
“She’s not my girlfriend, like I said.”
“That’s fine.” Allie shrugged with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “It’s really none of my—”
