8. Victoria
Chapter 8
Victoria
“ I made so much. Take more.”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to force me.” I added another hunk of eggplant parm to my plate. It smelled so damn good. There was no way I wouldn’t come back for seconds.
Alice was always feeding us, which made her one of my favorite people. The woman was an excellent cook. I was not, so I rarely ate as well as I did when she was the one putting on a meal.
Her home was a big timber-style lodge up on the mountain. Her husband, Henri, had built it years ago as some kind of man cave fortress, but Alice had added small touches here and there, making it feel like the inside of a magazine.
The house was almost as beautiful as the love the two of them had for one another.
No one deserved that kind of devotion more than she did.
Her two children were incredible, rounding out the most inspiring kind of family unit.
Being here strengthened my resolve. When I had my own home, when I’d figured myself out career-wise and financially, I would follow her example. For so long, I’d wanted to foster, and each time I was with Alice, that longing only grew.
Graham had scoffed at the idea. But every day I became more convinced that it was the right path for me. Maybe my journey to parenthood wouldn’t be conventional, but I was ready to explore the possibilities. Finances were a consideration and my primary stressor right now. But I’d deal with that eventually.
Making friends in one’s thirties wasn’t for the faint of heart. By this time in their lives, most people were entrenched and settled. In the city, I’d never found my people.
But within weeks of returning to Lovewell, I had been adopted by Alice and Becca. It had started with an appointment for a haircut. I walked in needing a trim and left with dinner plans.
Now the three of us got together regularly—usually at Alice’s house—to check in, have dinner, and decompress.
We were an unlikely trio. The newlywed, the widow, and the divorcée. All of whom had come to Lovewell for different reasons.
Alice had come to help revive a failing school and make some big changes in her life.
After her husband died, Becca had moved to his hometown, looking to provide stability and healing for her young daughter.
I’d returned because I had nowhere else to go. Aunt Lou was here, and Lovewell was the only place that had ever truly felt like home.
“When are you coming in? Your roots are making me twitchy,” Becca groused, slicing a loaf of bread at the kitchen island.
I shrugged.
“Hair that gorgeous needs care.”
Head tipped to one side, I ran my fingers through the end of my ponytail.
Graham thought long hair was juvenile. While we were married, I maintained a sharp, angular bob. With blond highlights, of course, because, according to him, the color was sophisticated and sexy.
But now, I’d let my hair grow wild and free. It was more wavy than curly, and a little frizzy. It did what it wanted when it wanted.
Most days, it wanted a ponytail.
Alice was curvy with blond hair and deep green eyes. She had the kind of all-American apple-cheeked beauty that stopped people in their tracks.
Becca was tall and lean with an edgy vibe. Her hair was cut in a trendy short style and she had several tattoos. She was part soccer mom and part badass.
And then there was me. Medium height, medium build, frizzy hair, and a can-do attitude.
See? Quite a trio.
Alice leaned back against the couch cushion, smiling. “I think the I don’t give a fuck look suits you.”
The bark of a laugh that escaped me echoed off the tall wood-paneled ceiling.
“That is true,” Becca said, scooping up a bite of eggplant parm. “After you had that stick up your ass surgically removed, your complexion has improved. Your skin has never looked better.”
Alice sipped from her glass of water, then carefully set it on a coaster on the end table. “You’re glowing. Are you finally sleeping again?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m getting less sleep than usual, actually. I’m helping out my neighbor. His baby won’t sleep, so I’m walking circles with her in the middle of the night.”
“So the rumors are true?” Becca clapped, her face lighting up. “You’re boning the hot single dad?”
Alice wiggled in her seat. “I heard it from Steph, who heard it from Cole at knitting club, so I know the intel is good.”
“Guys. No.” My stomach sank. Damn Lovewell and its rumor mill. “Not at all.”
As if choreographed, their faces fell simultaneously.
“We’ve become friends. He recently moved cross-country with a baby, and I’ve been all messed up about Alexandra’s pregnancy and the wedding.”
Alice gasped, her eyes widening. “Alex is pregnant?”
I nodded.
Becca stood and paced to one side of the room, then stomped back. “Your ex is a motherfucker. Your sister too. I hate them both, and I’ve never even met them.”
Alice shimmied off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. A moment later, she returned with another bottle of wine. “How did they even end up together?”
The answer to that question was more than a little complex. So I went with the simplest explanation I could. “Alexandra is the princess of the family. She’s a lot younger than Elizabeth and me, and what she wants, she gets.”
Becca cocked a brow. “Including your shitty ex.”
I shrugged and held out my empty wineglass to Alice. “I guess so.”
She obliged, using a heavy hand as she poured. “Is Elizabeth okay with this?”
“I guess. She lives in her own world. She’s got her own problems. Two homes, three kids, and one semi-public cheating scandal. A few years ago, Ralph slept with my niece’s kindergarten teacher.”
“Jesus.”
“They moved and pretended it never happened. Now she’s addicted to Pilates and Adderall.”
“God, your family sounds like the definition of dysfunctional.” The second the words left her mouth, Becca grimaced. “Sorry. That was harsh.”
I shrugged. Therapy had given me some perspective. I wanted to love them, and I wanted relationships with them all, but I had grown to accept we were too different.
“How did they take it when you got divorced?” Alice asked.
“My mom was furious. Screamed at me and then gave me the silent treatment for weeks. She doesn’t believe chronic cheating and infecting one’s spouse with an STI should be grounds for divorce.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Yup.” My stomach twisted painfully. “So much fucking fun. I was the family disgrace, especially after my sister stayed with her husband when he cheated. My mother said to me, ‘You think you deserve better, but you don’t.’”
In unison, my friends screamed.
Alice leaned forward, bottle held out to top off my wine again.
“I can’t.” I cupped a hand over the rim. “I have to drive.”
She shook her head. “After a confession like that, we have to open another bottle. I’ll have Henri drive you home.”
“Or you could call Noah,” Becca teased.
I stared at her. “We’re just friends.”
Unfazed, she grinned.
“He’s good-looking,” I admitted. “And one of the best people I know. But that part of me is broken.”
It’s as if the anger and betrayal that overtook me during my divorce festered and bubbled violently enough that it killed any ability to be attracted to men.
“You’ll recover.” Becca tipped her glass my way, confident.
“Did you?” I countered.
With a deep sigh, she shook her head. “It’s different. I can feel physical attraction, trust me. I’ve had a couple of flings since I moved here.”
I didn’t know much about her not-quite-love life, but she did, at one time, have a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Noah’s oldest brother Gus. That ended on good terms, and the two of them were still friends. He’d reconnected with his ex-wife, and they’d recently welcomed a baby.
“But love another person?” She lowered her chin and gave her head a shake. “No. I still love Dan. I could never give my heart to someone else, especially while Kali is young. Together, she and I—my in-laws too—keep his memory alive. We celebrate his birthdays and talk about him all the time. He’s a presence in all of our lives.”
“But it makes it impossible for you to move on,” Alice said.
“I don’t want to move on.” She straightened, shoulders back, certain. It broke my heart a little, knowing she’d loved Dan so deeply, only to lose him in such a traumatic way. “When he passed, I wasn’t sure I could function. I could barely get out of bed, let alone go through the motions. But moving here helped. Now my business is thriving, and my little girl and I are doing well.”
“This town gave me my life back,” Alice said.
Becca raised her glass. “Same. It’s allowed me to figure out how to live again. How to be happy. But falling in love? Can’t do it.”
“Then you know where I’m coming from,” I said, wine sloshing over the rim of my glass.
Alice patiently handed me a napkin.
“No. The opposite, in fact. I had the real deal, and I’ll never have it again. You, though? You may have been married, but you’ve never had that real, true, perfect love. It’s out there. You’re afraid of getting hurt again. Eventually, the fear will subside, and you’ll feel things again.”
If only it were as easy as waiting for the bad feelings to pass. The primary substance of my cellular makeup was a jumbled mess of those terrible emotions.
When we were married, I would lie in bed while Graham answered emails on his phone. The frame was a weird slab of wood that had cost a ridiculous amount of money, and our sheets were a bright starched white. Our housekeeper came every Tuesday and was always sure to iron them.
Our bedroom was stark and lonely. All the lighting was recessed and our bed faced massive windows that looked out at the harbor and Logan Airport.
I’d lie there, wearing fancy silk pajamas with a weird waistband that dug into my skin, watching planes fly in.
The runway was a tiny strip that abutted the ocean.
But the lights and signals always did the trick.
Even in the dark, those pilots trusted themselves enough to land, to keep their passengers safe.
I’d stare at the blinking lights of the air traffic control tower, aching from the inside out. Because of the man sitting a foot away from me. The man who would roll over any minute and expect me to fuck him didn’t know a damn thing about me. Nothing that mattered, anyway. And he didn’t want to know me. Or see me.
He ignored me unless I could be of use to him. Sometimes, he’d go entire days without really looking at me or speaking to me.
And the agony of the loneliness that ate at me left me hollowed out.
When he betrayed me, when he cheated, lied, and blamed me for it all, I swore I’d never put myself in that position again. I killed off that lonely, sad, vulnerable woman. I’d never be her again.
“I mean it. My lady parts are offline. It’s not happening for me.”
“Sure.” Alice waved me off. “But you get horny, don’t you?”
My chest opened up like an empty crevasse. “Nope.” And it was the truth. I was practically dead inside.
Becca angled forward, elbows on her knees, cradling her wineglass. “Do you have a vibrator?”
“Four.” I sighed. “I tried them all, hoping one would do the trick so I could, you know, finish. But no luck.”
“So you have no orgasms?”
“Nope. No desire, no attraction. No orgasms. It’s not surprising, really. My husband cheated on me, which led to a nasty divorce, and just as I thought the end of the dark tunnel was in sight, he knocked up my baby sister.”
Alice sat back on the couch, massaging her temples. “I’m so sorry. No orgasms? How do you function?”
Becca rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to her. She’s getting railed by her hot lumberjack husband all the time.”
Alice’s cheeks went pink. She was such a blusher, and the wine didn’t help. “Not all the time.” She smirked. “We have kids and jobs, so it’s hard to make it happen more than two to three times a week.”
Groaning, Becca dropped her head back. “Kill the bitch.”
She set her wineglass down, then picked up a throw pillow and chucked it at our friend. I followed suit, and soon we were all giggling uncontrollably on the floor of the living room.
I loved these women. I hadn’t expected to find true friendship and support in rural Maine. When I returned, I figured Aunt Lou would be my one and only confidant. But the universe knew I needed badass women in my life and sent them my way.
We were still catching our breath when Henri and the kids walked in. He was a beast of a man, always in a flannel shirt and work boots, but his grumpy exterior softened the minute he laid eyes on his wife.
Alice popped up and kissed the kids’ heads. Her son Tucker, a lanky preteen with dark hair that obscured his eyes, was now taller than her.
“Did you have fun at Auntie Adele’s house?”
“I got to play with Thor,” Goldie, a little blond firecracker in human form, gushed. “He’s so funny and cute.”
“Auntie taught me to use a soldering iron,” Tucker boasted.
Alice frowned, but Henri laughed. Tucker was always building and fixing things. He’d even helped me figure out the broadband at the food pantry.
“Good. It’s time for showers and bed,” Alice said. “I’ll be up in a bit.”
Henri put his arm around his wife’s waist and kissed her cheek. “Everything okay here, ladies?”
“All good. Brawny.” His wife beamed up at him. “But my friends could use rides home in a bit.”
Though he wasn’t much for smiling, his lips quirked beneath his beard, and he gave us a small bow. “At your service.”
Becca nudged me with a pointy elbow. “See? You, too, could have a lumberjack to attend to all your needs. First, you have to get your head out of your ass, then you jump Noah.”
Hands flat on the plush rug on either side of me, I rolled my eyes. “We’re just friends. Also, he’s a firefighter, not a lumberjack.”
Alice dropped to the floor next to me. “Lumberjack is not a vocation.” She giggled. “It’s a state of being.”