15. Gabby
Seth walks into the living room with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking like he’s walking to his execution. His eyes skitter around the room, and I realize this is the first time that he has been inside my apartment. He stops at a picture of my family and smiles.
“Your family reminds me of mine,” he says softly.
“Too big?” Pop says loudly.
Seth chuckles. “Big enough,” he replies.
“My mom already had three kids, me included, when she met Jake,” I explain. “And she was pregnant with number four.”
I don’t think I ever told Seth the story about how we all came to be at Lake Fisher. That’s a story for another day, though.
“I like my big family,” I say, “but I’m not going to lie and say I don’t like it when the holiday’s over and I get to come back to peace and quiet too.” I laugh.
“Why do you think I’m here?” Pop says drolly.
“I thought it was just to check up on me.” I shove his shoulder.
Pop stands a little taller. “Actually, it was to check up on Seth. I heard you’ve been abusing him.”
Seth rubs his eye lightly. “I can still smell the mace when I think about it.”
I high-five Pop when he lifts his palm and moves it toward me, but inside, I still wince a little. “Sorry, not sorry,” I say flippantly.
“Good job getting that Mimi girl home safely that night,” Pop says quietly.
Seth nods but doesn’t say much.
“Stop being so modest,” Pop grumbles.
“Somebody needed to do it. It just happened to be me.”
“We all need a little extra care sometimes,” Pop says. “A good man will take a drunk woman home and sleep on the sofa to make sure she’s all right.” He says it quietly, his voice low. He looks at me and quirks one eyebrow. “Are you about done being mad at him?” he asks.
I look everywhere but at Seth. “I’m not mad.”
“You were fit to be tied when I called you last week,” he says candidly.
“Some things are meant to be private!” I hiss.
Seth’s eyes meet mine. “I didn’t know you thought I was with her.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t know that until tonight, and I came here as soon as I figured it out. I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.” He reaches out a hand and hooks a pinkie with mine, giving my hand a gentle shake. He’s talking to me like we’re the only two people in the room.
A knock sounds on the door, making me jump from the trance I’m in. “That’ll be for me,” Pop says.
“Pop, did you make a date for while you’re in town?” I ask.
He opens the door and steps to the side. “Only if you can call this old jackass a date.”
Seth breaks into a genuine, heartfelt smile as a man walks into the room. “Henry,” he says, and he’s already walking across the room to hug the man. “It’s been a while,” he says.
The man thumps Seth on the back.
“Gabby, do you remember Henry?”
“I do.” Henry came to Lake Fisher with the rest of the Reeds at Christmas. “It’s good to see you again.”
Pop shrugs into his jacket. “We’re going out for a beer. I expect the two of you to behave yourselves. And if you can’t behave, you can at least be careful.” He winks at me, but he shoots a sarcastic glare at Seth, which makes Seth blush.
“Yes, sir,” Seth says quietly.
Henry chuckles.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Pop calls out as they step through the door.
“So, do just about anything!” I call back. “Got it!”
“You little shit,” I hear him murmur as they step out the door and close it behind them.
“What are they doing together?” Seth asks as silence settles around us. I can hear the clock ticking over the mantle; the room is so quiet.
“Pop comes to visit every few months. I think it’s just an excuse to get away from the kids and noise on a regular basis. We have dinner, he tells me stories from his youth, and then he goes out with Henry every time for a beer. The last time he told me that, he lied. I saw their picture in the paper the next day from where they went and served dinner at the local soup kitchen. He’s a mean old bastard, but he has a big heart.”
I heave in a breath, exhaling slowly since I don’t know what to do now. I realize that Seth’s pinky is still hooked around mine. I look down at our hands.
He lifts our hands and looks down at them too. Then he looks into my eyes. “We should probably talk,” he says. “If you want to.”
“I do want to,” I say quietly, my voice little more than a whisper. I really do want to.
“I like you a lot,” he says.
“I like you too,” I admit.
“Now that you know I didn’t fuck Mimi?” He asks playfully, but there’s a note of seriousness there, too.
“I liked you even when I thought you’d fucked Mimi,” I admit. “I just didn’t want to.”
“I am not a saint, and I’m not going to pretend to be one.” He clears his throat. “Not even for you.”
“I don’t want you to pretend to be anything you’re not.” I suck in another big breath and heave it out. “I just don’t want to share.”
He jostles the hand that’s still linked with mine. “You’re the only person I think about. You’re the only person I want to spend time with. You’re the only person I can’t get off my mind.” He uses his free hand to tweak my nose. “It’s all you, all the time, Gabby. I like you. And I never thought I would.”
“Is it because I said no?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He rocks his head from side to side like a metronome. “I don’t think so. I’ve had other women tell me no, and I accepted it from them. And if you spoke up and gave me a genuine no, I would respect that because I respect you. But I don’t think you want to say no. I think you like me too.” He grins sheepishly. “So, do you like me, too, Gabby?” he asks. “Do you more than like me?” He leans close, and his next words graze my ear. “Because I way more than like you.”
His hand drops mine, and then they slide around each side of my neck, his thumbs caressing the bottom of my jaw as he tilts my face up. He rubs the side of his nose down mine, his lips almost touching mine, so close I can feel the moisture and heat in his breath. He kisses the corner of my mouth really quickly, and then he steps back, his hands falling to his side.
I rock forward, suddenly unsteady on my feet. What was that? He kissed the corner of my mouth.
I stare at him, trying to figure him out, but he’s already walking toward the couch, where he kicks his shoes off. “Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks. He settles back against the couch cushions, one arm draped casually across the back of the couch.
“Do you want popcorn?” I call as I spin and turn toward the kitchen, which is just steps away. I can see him over the small island. I grab a bag of popcorn and pop it into the microwave without even waiting for an answer.
“Yes, please!” he calls back.
I wait three minutes for the popcorn to cook, pour it into a bowl, and then go back with two cans of soda.
I sit down a foot away from him on the small sofa and draw my legs up to cross them at the ankles.
“I’m going to call it, Gabby,” he says.
“Call what?” I ask as I pick up a piece of popcorn and pop it into my mouth.
“You’re going to marry me one day.”
I choke on the piece of popcorn. “What?”
He nods, reaching for a handful of popcorn himself. “You’re going to marry me. We’re not going to have kids, not for a while. We both have to become doctors first. And maybe not even then. Do you want kids?” he asks as he turns to face me fully.
“Not really,” I admit. I like kids, but I do not have a burning desire to be a mom.
“Same,” he says.
Maybe it’s because we both have such large families. I don’t know.
“So it’ll just be me and you. We’ll travel, see the world, and maybe we can do some charity work somewhere when we get vacations.”
He just described my dream life: a trip to Africa to give vaccinations, a journey to Ukraine to help soldiers, and a trip to Asian orphanages to offer life-saving pediatric care.
“You want to do charity work.”
He nods, his mouth full of popcorn. “Don’t you?”
I nod, too. “You haven’t even kissed me yet,” I suddenly blurt out.
He laughs. “I will. When the time is right.” He turns and picks up the remote. “What do you want to watch?” He’s already cycling through the listings. He doesn’t even ask as he picks a movie I’ve been wanting to watch and hits play. He reaches over, snatches the bowl of popcorn from my lap, and says, “Stop hogging the popcorn.”
I reach for the popcorn, lifting a little, but he uses it as an opportunity to hold the bowl outside my reach with one arm and draw me closer to him with the other. “Settle down,” he says with a laugh, tucking me against him. “And be quiet. The movie’s on.” He kisses my temple, lingering there long enough that I can feel him exhale out his nose against my cheek.
The movie starts, and he keeps one arm around me, holding me close.
As we watch, we eventually adjust so that my head is across his lap, and he runs his fingers absently through my hair as we watch the movie. As the credits roll, my phone rings from where it’s resting on the table. I sit up, grab it, and look at the screen.
“Do you mind?” I ask Seth.
“Not at all,” he says.
“Jake?” I say. It’s late, and Jake doesn’t usually call this late in the evening.
“Gabby,” he says.
“Is everything okay?” Seth’s curious gaze meets mine, and I shrug my shoulders.
“Yes and no,” Jake replies. Then he laughs. I can hear Mom laughing in the background, too.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s Pop,” Jake says. He snorts.
I put my feet on the floor. “What happened to Pop?” I hit the speaker button.
Jake can barely speak for all the laughter. “He got arrested.” Seth’s mouth falls open.
“He did what?” I ask.
“Apparently, he went out with Henry, and they stopped to get a chicken.”
“A chicken?” What?
“They wanted fried chicken, and Pop told Henry he could make fried chicken better than any chicken shack they could go to. So they stopped and bought a chicken and some peanut oil.”
“And how did this lead to Pop getting arrested?”
“They both got arrested,” Jake explains. “Apparently, on the way to Henry’s house, they saw a scuffle on the side of the street. A younger guy was getting beaten up by an older guy, and Pop thought it looked unfair. Pop threw the chicken at the guy’s head to break it up, and Henry threw the peanut oil when that didn’t work.” Jake can barely talk without laughing. He snorts and catches his breath. “Turns out that the older man was a plain-clothes police detective, and he was making an arrest.”
“And they put Pop in jail for that?”
“I think the peanut oil did them in. The container busted when Henry threw it, and it soaked the ground. Pop slid, and the detective fell into the oil as he tried to keep Pop on his feet. They both rolled around in it. Henry, too, although I heard he only got one leg dirty.”
Mom giggles. “I think it would have been all right if the suspected drug dealer hadn’t gotten away.”
“Oh, no,” Seth breathes. But he’s grinning.
“Get this,” Mom says. “The drug dealer took the chicken!”
I set the phone on my knee as I laugh. It takes me a minute to catch my breath.
Finally, Jake sobers, and he says, “So, you need to go and get Pop and Henry out of jail.” He snickers some more. “That man told me my whole life that if I were dumb enough to get my ass put in jail, he’d leave me there. And now I’m asking my daughter to go and get him,” Jake says with a snort.
His daughter. I freeze. Jake has never said that before.
Jake goes quiet as if he has just realized what he said. “I mean,” he starts. But he stops like he doesn’t know what else to say. “I meant,” he tries again with the same results.
“That’s what daughters are for,” I say as I blink back the tears that are suddenly, inexplicably welling in my eyes. “To go and get wayward pops out of jail after they throw chickens at cops.”
“And douse them in peanut oil,” Mom adds.
“Can’t forget the peanut oil,” I reply. I wipe the back of my index finger under my eye. “I’ll go and get him. I won’t be able to let him live it down, though. I am going to milk it as long as I can. You do know that.”
“Why do you think I called you?” Jake asks.
“Text me the info, and I’ll go bail them out.”
“Thanks, Gabby,” he says. “I love you, you know?” he adds.
“I love you too. I’ll text you when he’s home safe. Bye.”
I hit the button to hang up the phone. Seth stares at me. Then he cracks up laughing. “The drug dealer took the chicken.”
My phone pings with an address where Pop is. And I get a notice that they sent money to my bank account. I show Seth the screen. “Do you think that’s enough to get both of them out?”
“I’ve never been arrested, so I have no idea.”
“I hate to cut this date short, but,” I begin.
“Was this a date?” Seth asks with a grin.
My cheeks get hot. “This was a date.”
He nods slowly. “If you think you’re cutting our first date short and going to spring your pop and Henry from jail without me, you have another think coming.”
“Let’s go, then,” I say as I stand up and start to put on my shoes.
We get all the way to the police station, and as we walk in, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket.
“Mission aborted,” I read aloud. I look at Seth. “Jake says mission aborted.”
“What does that mean?” he asks as he follows me into the police station.
“I have no idea.”
I stop at the desk and ask for information about Pop and Henry. The attendant reaches over and pushes a button, and I hear the lock on the door next to me disengage. Seth reaches around me and pulls the door open. I step through it, feeling like I’m walking across a stage to accept an award I didn’t want.
An officer motions for me to follow him down a long hallway.
“Have you seen—” I begin, but I stop talking when he walks into a large break-room. Pop is sitting at a table with Henry on the other side. He has a stack of poker chips in front of him. Next to him is a red-haired uniformed officer who looks up and grins. “Fuck,” he says, pretending to be unhappy to see me. He points a finger at Pop. “Do not invite her to play. Gabby will steal my shirt if I’m not careful.”
“Freddy?” I say. He gets up and sweeps me into the biggest hug ever. How I know Freddy is a long story, but he used to be best friends with Jake, and then he slept with Jake’s ex-wife, and they had a kid together. Freddy took a bullet for Jake at Lake Fisher, and they talk regularly now. Freddy even brings his little girl to visit. The ex-wife is long gone, and he’s a single dad.
“Jesus, you look just like your mother did at your age,” Freddy says.
It’s always weird to hear that.
“What are you guys doing?” I ask as I stand behind Pop. I look down at his cards, but he tips his hand away.
“No cheating,” he warns. He tips his head back to look at me.
He’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, both of which look like they might have come from the lost and found. Henry, on the other side of the table, is still wearing his khaki pants and button-down shirt, but one leg of his trousers looks a little dark.
“What are you wearing?” I ask Pop.
Pop glances down. “I know it’s indecent. But it’s all Freddy had in his locker.” He says, “Call,” as he barely looks up from his cards.
Freddy cups his red beard and rubs his hand down it. “I hate you, old man,” he says.
“Live and learn,” Pop crows as he rakes the chips in the middle of the table toward himself.
Pop pulls the chair next to him out and motions toward it. “Take a seat. I’ll be a while.”
“I thought you got arrested.”
Pop snorts. “Never.”
Freddy pretends to grumble. “Jake called me. I should have let his old ass rot in the cell. At least that way, I’d still have my money.” He starts to tick items off on his fingers. “Drunk. Disorderly. Assault.”
“With a chicken?” I ask.
“An assault by chicken is still an assault,” Freddy says with a chuckle.
Pop picks up two twenty-dollar chips and gives one to me and one to Seth. “You each owe me twenty bucks. Sit. Let’s show Freddy how to play.”
I look at Seth. He lifts one brow in question. “He won’t shut up until we do,” I warn.
Seth drops into a chair, and I do the same.
“Fuck,” Freddy says. “Now I’ll go home late and broke.”
I look at Seth as Henry starts to deal. “I might play cards from time to time,” I explain with a negligent shrug.
“I taught her everything she knows,” Pop says.
“That’s why she beats you. I think the kid was born winning at cards.”
“I used to play with my dad,” I say quietly. “He was really good. He taught me a thing or two.”
“A thing or two?” Freddy asks. “Last time we played, you ended up with the keys to my truck. The only reason I’m still driving it is because Jake made you give them back.”
“He just wanted to be sure you could leave when the weekend was over,” Pop says drolly as he tosses the ante into the center of the table.
“Ha ha,” Freddy says.
“He’s not kidding,” I say sarcastically out of the corner of my mouth to Seth.
Pop winks at me as Freddy scowls playfully.
Three hours later, I have all the chips piled in front of me, and a small group of officers have amassed to watch the gameplay. “How did she do that?” someone whispers.
“She’s magic,” Pop says with pride, even though he’s broke too.
Seth glances down at his watch. “I have to go and medicate a cat,” he says. “It’s almost eight in the morning.”
“Is that code for something?”
Seth smiles. “No, I really have to go and medicate a cat.”
Pop gets up and pushes his chair in. “Oh, well, let’s go and do that. Henry, do you want to go?”
“Wait!” Freddy cries. “You can’t leave me in the hole!” He motions toward the chips.
“Cash her out, Fred,” Pop commands. Freddy pretends to grumble as he gives me the cash from the buy-in.
He leans down and whispers playfully in my ear. “I don’t mind paying you, but it would have hurt my feelings if Pop had won.” He kisses my forehead, shakes hands with Seth, and hands Pop a bag with his dirty clothes in it. “It was nice to meet you, Seth,” he says. He looks him up and down. “You’re not at all like Jake described you.”
“How did he describe me?” Seth asks.
But I spin him around and start for the door.
“Wait,” Seth says in protest, but I give him a slight push forward and then through a door.
“You don’t want to know,” I warn.
“I really do,” he replies, but he’s smiling.
We take a car back to Seth’s apartment building.
But Seth stops short when we get off the elevator. His neighbor’s apartment door is open, and people are walking in and out of the apartment carrying furniture.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Oh, no,” Seth breathes as he walks toward the apartment.
He knocks on the open doorframe, and a woman looks up. “Yes,” she says. She is dumping photo albums into a trash bag.
“Who are you?” Seth asks.
“Who are you?” the woman parrots, her nose rising in the air. She dumps another photo album into the trash.
One of the movers walks in, and the woman kicks the bag and says, “This one can go to the trash.” She blows a lock of hair from her eyes and addresses Seth again. “Who are you again?” she asks caustically.
He jerks a thumb toward his apartment. “I’m Seth. I’ve been taking care of the cats for Mrs. Collins.”
“Oh,” the woman says as she gets to her feet. “You won’t need to do that anymore. We’re moving Mom to an assisted living facility, and they don’t allow cats. I called animal control to come and pick them up.” She motions toward two cat carriers on the edge of the kitchen counter, and then she shows Seth her arm, which is covered with bloody scratches. “I hate those creatures. They’re mean.”
They’re not mean. They’re as sweet as can be. “Maybe they just don’t like you,” Seth begins. “Does Mrs. Collins know what’s happening to them?” he asks.
“I told her they’re coming to live with me. She’ll never know the difference.” She walks into the bedroom and drops a couple of framed photos into the bag she’d said was trash.
“Okay, well, let me know if you need any help.”
Seth walks out to find us all standing in the hallway. “She called animal control to come and get the cats. And she’s throwing away all Mrs. Collins”s most precious belongings.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “The cats are old and sick. No one is going to adopt them.”
Henry hitches his pants up higher. He looks at Pop. “Do you want to do it, or do you want me to?” he asks.
Pop looks down at his clothes. “You better do it. You look more presentable.”
“Do what?” Seth asks.
Henry adjusts his shirt and flattens his hair with his palm. Then he walks up and knocks on the open doorframe.
“What?” the woman asks.
“Someone called animal control?” he says.
She points toward the two carriers. “Over there,” she says absently.
Henry waltzes into the room and very nonchalantly grabs the carriers, one in each hand. Then he walks out with them.
“Have a nice day,” he calls out.
Seth opens his apartment door, and we all step inside.
“I’ll need their medications,” Seth says.
“I got it,” Pop says.
I stand to the side as Pop strolls right out into the hallway and into the kitchen, where he scoops all the medicines off the fridge and into the belly of his t-shirt, which he’s holding up. They make a rattling sound, but the movers are making more noise, so the woman doesn’t even notice.
He comes back to Seth’s apartment and dumps all the bottles from his shirt onto the table with a clatter.
“I don’t even know what I got,” Pop admits. There are about twenty bottles. Seth picks out the four he knows the cat takes and stands them up.
“These are the ones,” Seth explains, looking relieved.
“Why do you look so upset?” I ask.
“Mrs. Collins would hate this,” he says quietly. “All her photo albums and pictures are in the trash.”
“I got it,” Pop says. He stands in the open doorway until he sees the woman walk to the elevator. He goes through the open door, grabs the big garbage bag from the floor, and he even takes all the pictures off the fridge on his way out.
He sets it on the floor. “A lifetime of memories,” he says quietly. “Carelessly discarded.” He looks at me. “When I’m old and dead, please remember that I existed and cherish my things because they were part of my life, and my life is important.”
“I will, Pop,” I promise.
He opens one of the cat cages, and Calamity Jane teeters out. She rubs against his hand, and he picks her up. Henry sets the other one free. Pop scoops that one up, too.
“You guys want to go home with me?” Pop croons at them. “Yes, you do. You do want to go home with me,” he says, baby-talking at them. “You can climb all over Sally, who will just love you.” Sally is my sister’s huge dog, a gentle giant that likes to wear tutus.
“Oh, my god, Pop,” I say. “Trixie would be in heaven.”
“They have health problems,” Seth explains. “There’s a binder on top of the fridge with all their medical records in it.”
Henry goes back into the apartment and retrieves the binder.
“You are not seriously going to take the cats, Pop,” I say.
“Watch me,” he croons, picking Captain Twinkles up. The cat rubs his face into Pop’s shoulder.
“They’re old, Pop,” I say.
“Yeah, well, so am I. They can go home with me and be loved for however long they have left.” He glances at his watch. “Speaking of which, I have a flight to catch, and now I have to register two carry-ons.”
He flips through the binder until he finds their medical records.
“What if they won’t let you fly with them?”
“Then I’ll rent a car at the airport and drive back,” he says. He’s still cuddling Captain Twinkles.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Seth gives him a quick tutorial on Captain Twinkles’ medications as he gives him the morning dose.
The phone rings, and Seth pulls it from his pocket. “It’s Mrs. Collins,” he says. “Hello?” He hits the speaker button. “Mrs. Collins?” he says.
“Oh, Seth,” she says, amid tears and hiccuping sobs. “My daughter is getting rid of my cats. She says she’s taking them home with her, but she clicks her tongue when she lies. She has done it since she was a little girl.”
“I know, Mrs. Collins,” he explains. “But I got them.”
She sniffles. “You got them? How did you get them?”
“I sort of stole them,” he says with a wince.
“You stole them? Oh,” she says with a relieved breath. “You’re such a good boy. You really have them?”
“They’re sitting here on my girlfriend’s grandfather’s lap right now.” He winces again. “If it’s okay with you, he’d like to adopt them. Captain Twinkles is already in love with him.” Captain Twinkles is currently upside down, getting belly scratches from Pop.
“Put your murder mittens away,” Pop mutters when the cat gets excited and grabs him, but he’s also chuckling.
“Is your girlfriend’s grandfather a decent guy?” Mrs. Collins asks.
“I have never been called decent in my life,” Pop mumbles.
“You really haven’t, Pop,” Gabby says.
“He’s great. And I can give you his number so he can send you pictures.”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” she says, sounding relieved.
Seth finishes up with Mrs. Collins while I go and sit next to Pop. “Are you sure you want to do this, Pop?” I ask.
He scoffs in his Pop way. “I never do anything I don’t want to do, Gabby.”
That’s true.
“Okay, Pop,” I say as I reach to rescue Calamity Jane, who is about to fall off the couch. “If you insist.”
“Hey,” he says quietly. His voice is as quiet as a murmur, so only I can hear him.
“What?” I look at his face.
“Did he just call you his girlfriend?” He smirks at me.
My cheeks get hot. “Did he?”
“You know he did,” he says. He shoves my shoulder.
“You suck, Pop.” I lay my head on his shoulder.
“He’s a good boy,” he says quietly.
“He is,” I agree even more quietly.
“Don’t do anything stupid like getting pregnant,” he says in his Pop way. “Or do.”
“I will if I want to,” I toss back with a grin.
“When you marry him, I want you to do it at Lake Fisher,” he says as he blinks slowly at me. His eyes well up with tears, but he blinks them away.
“I wouldn’t do it anywhere else,” I say.
“Okay. Speaking of which, I have a plane to catch. And I still have to shower and change.” He holds out his hands. “Give me your keys. I’ll leave them under the plant outside your door.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Or you could spend the morning with Seth,” he says, waggling his brows playfully.
“Stop meddling, old man,” I say with a laugh.
He packs up the cat and the medications, and Henry goes to take him back to my apartment. I turn to look out Seth’s window. It’s morning, and we’ve been up all night. It’s Saturday, so it’s not a huge deal.
Seth walks up to me, and his arms wrap around me from behind. He kisses my shoulder. “How tired are you?”
I yawn into my fist. “Dead on my feet.”
“Me too.” He grabs my hand and gently pulls me toward the bedroom. “We should get a few minutes of sleep.” He grins.
“Just sleep?” I ask, my pulse racing.
“Just sleep,” he says.
“Are your sheets clean?” I ask.
His brow lifts. “I washed them two days ago. And no one has been in them but me.”
“I guess that’ll work,” I say flippantly. I sit on the edge of his bed and kick my shoes off.
He pulls the covers back and slides in. Then he grabs my hand. “How close do you want to sleep?” he asks warily.
I roll toward him and tuck my head in that space between his neck and shoulder. “Is this too close?” I whisper. I nuzzle my face against his chest.
“Not close enough,” he says. I lift my knee so that my leg falls across him, and he grabs me behind my knee and pulls me closer. “That’s better,” he says.
He yawns, and I settle in deeper, blinking my eyes to keep them open. “Pop told me not to get pregnant,” I warn.
“That’s a great idea,” he says with a chuckle.
Then he closes his eyes, and so do I.