Chapter 31
31
[Genie]
“ W e should go out tonight,” Judd eventually states, after our round of oral tag on the dining room table and a shower that included naked hugs.
I’m still puzzled why Judd and I aren’t having sex. The final act. The full enchilada. But I don’t complain as I’m more or less completely satisfied by the attention he’s given my private parts.
However, I am surprised when he suggests we go out when I was looking forward to possibly snuggling into his side and eating my body weight in popcorn while we watched a movie.
We still haven’t discussed how I should be leaving tonight.
He isn’t asking me to stay. I’m not suggesting I go.
“We haven’t had a proper date,” he adds.
A proper date? Judd and I have had tons of private moments. Memory-making moments. But a date implies he wants to take me out in public. He wants to be seen with me.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask as Judd runs a towel over my overly-sensitive body, then wraps the soft terry cloth around me, tucking it tight above my breasts.
“Just something casual.” He purses his lips.
If I knew Judd better, I’d say he’s playing at something. But I can’t read his expression. His stoic reserve is firmly in place.
“But wear something that makes you feel pretty. I’m partial to the green dress with polka dots but wear your favorite.”
I smile at the suggestion Judd has a favorite out of my clothing.
“Okay,” I whisper, suddenly shy while thrilled at the prospect of a date with Judd. Maybe he’s simply making up for that failed prom date all those years ago.
Somehow, I doubt this thought, especially when Judd parks in downtown Sterling Falls and walks us hand-in-hand to Milton Roadhouse. He opens the door like the gentleman he is, but then he body-blocks me, which I find rather strange, and almost plow into him.
“Judd.” I chuckle as I catch myself, feeling the strength of his back muscles and heat of his skin through his shirt. He’s actually a little sweaty through the fabric when it isn’t that hot outside.
He steps to the side, and I’m hit with a resounding, “Surprise!” A chorus of cheers and clapping follows, and I’m stunned into silence, staring wide-eyed at the display before me.
Several tables are pressed together, surrounded by the adults in Judd’s family. Sebastian and Enya. Knox and Halle. Ford and Cadence. Clay and Mavis. Vale. Stone in his sheriff’s uniform.
And a giant pair of balloons in a four and a zero in bright green, my favorite color.
I blink back the well of tears blurring my vision, both shocked by this amazing surprise and guilty that I hadn’t told Judd.
“What did you do?” I whisper, turning toward him.
“Happy birthday, firefly.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth without pressing for answers about why I hadn’t told him.
Turning back to the group, I clasp my hands beneath my chin and stare. “This is too much.” And yet I’m overjoyed. My heart is too full.
I spin back toward Judd. “Thank you, baby.” Thank you for everything . I tip up on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him to me and holding on for dear life. Judd hugs me back in the same manner, squeezing me hard to his chest.
“I love—” I choke on what almost popped out of my mouth. Pulling back, I look Judd directly in the eyes. “I love this. This is amazing.”
If Judd is disappointed, he doesn’t say, but his body language suggests otherwise. His shoulders fall while his hand comes to my lower back.
“Make all the birthday wishes, Genie. I hope every one of them comes true.”
Ask me to stay . Say that you love me. Say you can’t live without me .
Three wishes. Each a tall order.
Breaking free from Judd, I step up to each of the girls, hugging them all in turn along with Judd’s brothers.
I’m pointed to a seat at the head of the table and two servers bring pitchers of margaritas and beer to the table.
I point at Sebastian. “You have some explaining to do.” It’s the only reason Judd would have discovered the significance of the day.
Judd’s hand slips up my back and squeezes my nape. “ You have some explaining to do. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug as I look over at him. His chair touches mine. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of the day.”
“But every day is a big deal to you. This one should have been the biggest. You’re forty.”
I cover Judd’s mouth with my fingers. “Shh. We aren’t discussing how I’m old.”
“You’re hardly old,” he murmurs against my hand, and then moves it so he can nip at my fingertips before leaning closer to me. “And that move on the dining room table tells me you’re still quite agile.”
I cover his mouth again, while giggling at the reminder of how Judd satisfied my body earlier. His fingertip heart feels like it’s actually etched into my lower back. His words still whisper on repeat in my head.
The memory makes me squirm.
“Okay,” Cadence calls out. “Who’s ready to karaoke?”
“Why would she need karaoke?” I tease, asking Judd. Cadence is a mega superstar and the last person I’d sing in front of.
However, hours later I’m on the stage, a bit blurry eyed and feeling a little loose, and deciding I can sing when I know I cannot carry a tune.
“This song is a duet,” Cadence announces to the group from her position beside me in the area blocked out for a band. Today, the karaoke machine is the entertainment. “Judd?”
“I’m good from here,” he calls to his future sister-in-law, and I’d call him a chicken if I didn’t know it would hurt him on a deep level, even in jest.
“I got this,” I state, like I know what I’m doing when I don’t. I know enough about karaoke to follow the words on the prompter but that doesn’t mean I can sing.
Thankfully, the song Cadence picked is more speaking-ish than singing at first, so I muddle through the lines about a country singer on the road, wandering into a bar, and latching her eyes on a cowboy. Which is when I narrow in on Judd.
In the chorus, the singer tells the cowboy he looks like he loves her and wants to take her home, and the words hit me hard in the chest. Like I’ve knocked the microphone against myself.
Judd does look at me that way. Like he might love me. And right now, he’s definitely giving me fiery eyes like he wants to take me home. Having his way with me again on the dining room table or the library ladder.
When the song finishes, I make an exaggerated curtsy and hand the microphone to Cadence. Then I skip toward Judd who stands as I near the table. I leap for him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and Judd catches me around the waist, swinging me side to side.
The motion sloshes the margaritas in my belly, and I sway a bit when he sets me on my feet. Thankfully, Judd keeps his hands on my hips to steady me.
“Looks like she wants you to take her home,” someone calls out behind Judd. Sounds like Knox.
“Did you hear me, Judd?” Although I’m not certain I’ve asked a coherent question.
“I heard ya’, beautiful.” He laughs.
“Did I sing well?”
“Like a lark.”
“Did I seduce you?” Why won’t he have sex with me?
“Every day with you is a seduction.”
I break into a fit of giggles and dip my head to his chest. I should put that on a calendar. Quirky Girl Seduction Calendar.
“You okay?” Judd whispers near my ear, brushing my hair around it.
“It’s my birthday.” I lift my head a little too fast and the room warbles.
“Yes, it is, firefly.”
Yes. And firefly. Check yes, Judd.
“Want me to take you home? Or do you want to stay a little longer?”
Home. Stay longer . Checking yes .
“Would you mind if we stayed a little longer?” I’m practically dangling from Judd’s neck, arms still around him but my body suddenly feels heavy, weighed down by both the day and the date.
The anniversary of my father’s death. My fortieth birthday. My mother never called me.
But Judd threw me a surprise party.
“How long have you known?” I whisper. Or I think I whisper.
“Sebastian is horrible at keeping secrets.”
“So, since this morning?” I’m definitely slurring. And Sebastian is a tattletale.
Judd looks at me. Both of him .
“We need champagne for the birthday girl,” a female voice says somewhere near the table. Sounds like Vale.
And the thought of champagne, the bubbles exploding in my mouth, the acidic aftertaste of cheap liquor. The burn going down and coming back up.
I burst into tears.
“Aw, fuck,” someone mutters as I slip my arms from Judd’s neck to cover my face.
“Looks like we’re going with plan A, baby,” Judd says, swooping me up. “I’m taking you home.”
And that’s the last I remember of the night.
“Hey,” I hear as my eyelids ping open. Sunlight slips into the room through the slanted blinds.
I turn my head a bit too quickly and notice Judd sitting in a black leather chair that typically rests in the corner of his room. He shifts like he slept there all night.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like the world needs to stop spinning. I want off the ride.” I scrub my forehead, finding my fingers shaky. My mouth feels like I licked a cat’s tail, and my skin is clammy. Slower this time, I roll my head on the pillow and stare up at the ceiling.
Judd chuckles. “Quite a party.”
I turn my head in his direction again. I should thank him. The party was generous, and kind, and unwarranted, especially when I hadn’t mentioned it was my birthday yesterday.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” Judd’s eyes hold that melancholy I witnessed too often upon first seeing him ten days ago.
Today marks day eleven.
I shrug, but even that motion feels like too much effort. “I just didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”
“But you’re forty. That is a big deal.”
“I’m officially over the hill, right?”
Judd’s brows cinch. “What hill? You’re currently on a mountain with peaks and valleys. Keep climbing or coasting.”
“I meant figuratively,” I snort.
“I don’t.” Judd slowly sits forward. “And you aren’t answering my question.” He pauses a second. “Did you want to be alone on your birthday?”
“I don’t think anyone ever wants to be alone on their birthday.”
“Then did you just not want to celebrate the day with me?” There’s a rawness in Judd’s voice as he lowers his eyes. Like he really believes I’d rather be by myself than with him.
We did spend the day together. A glorious afternoon where I drew new designs, discussed my business, and had two orgasms on his very sturdy dining room table. Plus, he threw me a surprise party.
“Judd, look at me,” I whisper, my voice shaky as my throat is dry.
He lifts his head, his expression weary. He looks almost boyish with his wide blue eyes. Caution is etched in the fine lines of his face.
“My birthday is always a difficult day,” I begin, not really wanting to share this story, especially as I’m hungover. But I don’t want Judd thinking my decision yesterday was about him.
My birthday is a me-problem.
Slowly, I press myself upright and shift the pillows to prop up my back.
“The night before I turned thirteen, I went to a sleepover at Heather’s house. I wouldn’t say we were friends. We were never friends, but we do have our mothers’ friendship in common and that meant sometimes we were forced together. This particular night, I hadn’t wanted to go to Heather’s. My birthday was the following day. My mom pushed the agenda, and I’d had a bad feeling about it all day. Not like a stomachache but a persistent, gnawing sensation in my gut.”
I fist my hand near my belly and swallow, feeling the lump in my throat from both the sadness this tale brings, and the awful reminder of all I drank last night.
“My parents had been fighting a lot. At first, I don’t think I paid enough attention or thought the arguments were out of the norm. My mother told me couples disagreed. But the disagreements seemed to grow more consistent.”
I lower my eyes and pluck at the blanket over my legs. My skin feels clammy for a new reason. I rarely tell this story. I’ve never dated someone long enough to delve this deeply into my past. Into the recesses of my history and my broken heart.
“That night, our dining room table was set with candles and flowers. I assumed my parents were planning to have a romantic evening with me away. Maybe they’d talk to each other instead of fight.”
I swallow heavily as the thickness in my throat grows.
“At Heather’s house, she’d stolen a bottle of champagne from her parents’ bar area. She said it was for my birthday. It wasn’t like she held the bottle to my lips and made me drink, but she did make me feel small when I said I didn’t want to try the stuff.” I toss my voice to mimic Heather’s. “ But you’re becoming a teen. You didn’t want to be a baby anymore, do you? ”
Judd’s eyes narrow as if he knows exactly how Heather made me feel. Like a coward .
I shrug. “I didn’t really care what she thought of me, but I was also twelve. There were other girls present. Turning thirteen is a huge deal, so I drank. And drank. And drank.”
I swallow thickly as if I can feel the bubbles on my tongue and taste the slightly acrid aftertaste of champagne. “I can’t blame Heather. She didn’t force me but . . . peer pressure, I guess.”
I risk a glance at Judd, who leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees and his fingers steepled at his lips.
“Anyway.” I exhale, blinking at the burn in my eyes. “I didn’t feel well. I wanted to go home. I called my mom first, but she didn’t answer. Then, I called my dad.”
I turn my head and stare at the window where the blinds are partially open, allowing filtered morning light into the room. “He sounded tired. He also sounded like he’d been drinking.” The slur in his voice only comes into my memories when I look back. That night, I’m not certain I could identify the sound.
I glance back at Judd. His shoulders are stiff. His eyes wide.
“He said he’d pick me up.” The worn-down whisper of his voice floats through my head. His promise sluggish. I’ll be there, Genie .
With my eyes focused on Judd, he blurs before me. “He never made it.”
Suddenly, I’m encompassed by Judd’s arms and pressed into his chest. Only, his closeness overwhelms me. The hangover. The memory of champagne in my throat. The slosh of margaritas in my belly.
I press Judd back, needing space. I’m suddenly too warm and if I don’t get some air, I’m going to be revisiting my fortieth-birthday drinks.
Judd leans away, slipping his hands down my arms before resting them on either side of my legs.
“I’m so sorry, firefly.”
I peer up at him. “There’s more.”
Judd runs his thumb beneath my eye, catching a lone tear.
“At the funeral, Heather found me in the ladies’ room, sitting alone, crying. She told me she didn’t know why I was upset. My father was leaving my mother anyway. He was leaving me.”
“Son of a bitch.” Judd hisses.
I choke. “A twelve-year-old whom I was never friends with was telling me my parents planned to divorce.”
The bile in my throat reaches dangerous levels and I swallow hard. “My parents never had that romantic dinner. They had a fight. My dad left. He might have told my mother he was leaving her. She denies it. I don’t even know where he was when I called him, but he’d answered his phone, and he said he would come pick me up.”
I whisper, “Or was he only saying that? Was he really leaving?” I glance back up at Judd. “I’ll never know because he crashed into a tree that night. His car was found on a road leading out of town, not in the direction of Heather’s house.”
Rumors circulated that my father had been drinking. Others suggested he swerved to miss an animal on the darkened road. The gossip about my father’s intention to leave my mother trickled around us.
Maybe he’d been coming to get me after all.
Maybe his car spun in the opposite direction.
Maybe he’d have gone home and changed his mind about leaving.
But deep down, I know the truth. In my gut. In my heart.
“He didn’t want me.” Or my marching beat . My voice breaks and I’m in Judd’s arms again.
This time, I melt into him. I’m tired, so very tired, and it wasn’t only the hangover and turning forty that drained me. All these years later, the events on the eve of my birthday are still a mystery and have forever marred the date. Every other date on the calendar is special, except my birthday.
“I can’t stand the taste of champagne,” I whisper into Judd’s shoulder. “Even looking at a bottle of it makes me shaky.”
And I hate Heather Remington. I shouldn’t have heard what everyone else already seemed to know at my father’s funeral. I shouldn’t have heard it from her of all people.
And if I hadn’t gone to Heather’s house. If I hadn’t drank champagne. If I hadn’t called my dad . . . he might still be alive, even if he left us behind.
I don’t have tears left for something that happened twenty-seven years ago, but a soul-crushing sorrow fills me.
“I’m sorry, Judd,” I say. “But I’m gonna be worthless today.” I pull out of his arms and slip down beneath the covers.
Which Judd sweetly pulls up over my shoulders and tucks around me.
“Can I get you anything? Do anything for you?” He hesitates. “I could stay. We don’t have to talk. I’ll just be here for you.”
I shake my head and close my eyes. “I just need to sleep this off.” I attempt a soggy smile. “Can’t handle my liquor anymore. I hear it’s a sign of getting old.”
Judd swipes his hand over my hair and cups the back of my neck. “You’ll never grow old, firefly.”
I huff. Everyone grows older.
I can only hope I grow bolder, and wiser.
Like telling Judd Sylver how I feel. I think I love him.