26. Chapter 26
Knox and I repeated our new ritual for a few nights, getting better at finding ways to navigate the uncomfortable sofa bed and somehow finding pleasure in loving each other again. But neither of us dared to speak about what was happening.
I was thinking about the night before when, in the middle of slumber, I felt Knox reaching for me, pulling me to him from behind, burying his face in my hair and, eventually, himself inside me, all the while grunting my name like a whispered prayer on his lips, when Clyde’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I glanced down at him sitting on the closed toilet seat before me, face tilted up, half-covered in shaving cream, as I rinsed off the long blade I used to shave his face.
The sound caught me off guard because Clyde didn’t say much these days, and he never talked while I was shaving him.
Embarrassed I didn’t catch what he said because I was too involved in my sexy thoughts, I asked, “What was that?”
Clyde swallowed. “I said, all that thinking will give you wrinkles.” And I swear he almost, almost smiled.
I looked out the window next to us in the small bathroom, and Clyde followed my gaze over to Knox, who we could see trying to fix the riding lawn mower. He had grease on his arms and hands, and he was cursing as he struggled to loosen something, or tighten something. It was one of those beautiful fall days, when the wind blew but it was still warm on your skin, and although you could smell autumn, the sun shone so bright it almost hurt.
“Oh, Clyde, believe me, if I could stop my mind from the places it goes sometimes, I would.” I brought the blade back up to his face as he tucked his lips between his teeth to make the skin taught so I could drag it over his upper lip. I could feel myself mimicking the action as I tucked my own lips between my teeth.
When I leaned over to the sink to rinse off the blade, I felt Clyde’s hand on my forearm.
“You know what I regret?” he asked, and I turned my face to him. I was afraid to ask. I didn’t want him to say it out loud, whatever it was. But, he didn’t look scared, or sad. He looked … OK.
I didn’t answer as I did one final swipe of the blade over a patch on Clyde’s neck that I missed. Then I put the blade down and grabbed a towel to wipe off his face.
He gently took my hands in his as I stood before him, his knees caging mine. “You know what I regret about my time with Monica?” he pressed again, and I searched his eyes for a clue but came up empty, so I just shook my head. “Not one thing,” he said matter-of-factly.
I think my lip may have quivered.
“I’ve been thinking about all the time we spent together, all the big moments and life experiences and travel. And then about all the down time that one might think is just wasted time, but it wasn’t. It’s not. I loved Monica with every living cell in my body for every moment since we met, and she loved me back just the same. I’m sad she’s gone. I’m so incredibly sad. But there’s not a thing I would have done differently.”
As tears threatened to fall, I let out a heavy breath while Clyde looked back out the window, and this time it was me who followed his gaze over to Knox, who was kicking and cursing at the lawn mower as he stood back, hands on his hips, assessing the damage in front of him. I giggled, and then my hand flew up to my mouth, as if I had done something I needed to hide.
Knox’s dad rose as he pulled my hand away from my face, and then we were standing face-to-face, our clasped hands held up between our chests. I felt the chain around his neck where he wore Monica’s rings.
I swallowed. “I’m afraid I hurt him very badly, Clyde,” I said quietly. “I was scared, and I pushed him away. And I think we can get back to where we were, but what if I do it again?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t,” was all he said.
I tilted my head in question.
“Don’t do it again. Just make the decision you won’t do it again. It’s that simple.”
We stared at each other for a second before I said in a rush, “Well, I mean, when you put it that way …” and then I felt his chest move, like maybe, maybe he laughed a little.
Clyde gracefully let go of my hands and slid by me toward the door, pausing with his hand on the open doorframe, looking back at me.
“We’re all going to smile again, one day,” he said. “We’re all going to laugh. But in the meantime, I just don’t want my boy to have any regrets. Or you.”
I nodded and looked back out the window. Knox was crouched in front of the lawn mower with tools.
“And, Lizzie,” Clyde pulled my attention back to him one last time. “Call me Dad, will ya?”
A single tear streamed down my face as I smiled, he knocked on the doorframe once, and then walked away.
Of course, the fucking thing wouldn’t start. It would have been way too kind of the universe to let one damn thing go right for me.
I ran a hand through my sweaty hair, replaced my backward ballcap, and stepped back, hands on my hips, as I glared at the machine. Then, like a rabid animal, I reared back and started kicking it, over and over and over again.
I heard the screen door slam shut and stopped my assault, looking over my shoulder at Lizzie standing there, pensive. She had that look on her face like something was on her mind, and everything inside me seized up. We hadn’t so much as acknowledged what was going on between us since Mom died, and we spent every single night together … and then started “sleeping” together.
And I wasn’t ready to have that conversation. Because the truth was, even if she was coming to tell me she was heading back to her apartment, that whatever we had been doing was a mistake or whatever other bullshit excuse she had, I wasn’t going anywhere. I let her push me away before, and I was never going to do it again. She could doubt me, hate me, be annoyed by me, but she was stuck with me.
Plain and simple.
Lizzie slowly prowled toward me, as if she could see I was coiled up like a snake, ready to attack.
She pulled a hand up to shield her eyes as she looked up at me, and in the shadow of her hand I got a good look at her eyes. They were red, like she had been crying. I saw her inside giving my dad a shave, and I could have sworn I saw them talking.
“What did that lawn mower ever do to you?” she asked as she stopped a few steps away from me.
I huffed out a rough laugh as I kicked the tire one last time. “Oh, nothing, I guess. Just the last shitty thing in a line of shitty things that have been coming at me as of late. Guess it’s not fair for the old thing to take the brunt of my aggression.”
A slight breeze pulled a lock of Lizzie’s hair across her face, and she dropped her hand from her eyes to tuck it behind her ear at the same time I reached out to do the same, and we both stopped short when our hands touched. She pulled back, but my hand lingered.
“Go ahead,” she said to my surprise. “I like when you do that.”
Slowly, I swept three fingers over her brow then behind her ear, effectively tucking the stray strand of hair away. “Shit,” I said, breaking the moment. “I, uh, I left motor grease on your face. Damn, hang on.” I grabbed the rag out of my back pocket and tried to rub away the black mark, but it remained. “Hang on,” I said again. Then, without thinking, I licked my thumb and rubbed it across the line. She smiled and placed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she let me tip her chin up at me with one hand, while I rubbed at the mark with the rag in the other.
These were the moments I missed most with her.
When I was done, Lizzie kept her eyes locked on mine. “Can I ask you something?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” I said, cautiously. “But I can’t guarantee you’ll like my response.”
She squinted up to the sun, then back at me. “You seem OK, since your mom died. I know you’re sad. I’m not saying you’re not. It’s just, you seem oddly at peace. Your dad, on the other hand. I mean, obviously it’s a different kind of loss for him. And Bram is just … well, you know. But you seem OK. Is it just a front? Are you just being the strong one?”
I drew in a breath, then crossed my arms over my sweat-soaked gray T-shirt as I leaned back and perched my ass on the seat of the lawn mower, so I was half-sitting, half-leaning on it. I looked at my feet, then back at the woman I loved.
“The truth is a little complicated, and it might take a little rambling for me to get it right. That OK?”
She nodded, hands still in her back pockets, chest rising and falling.
“It’s the finality of it all, if I had to guess. I think that’s the hardest for my dad and Bram. What was the last thing they said to my mom? What was she wearing the last time they saw her? They didn’t have any warning so they couldn’t memorize her smell or the way her hair fell around her shoulders. They want to tell her again how much they loved her, how much they appreciated her, how brightly she shined, you know?”
Lizzie nodded. “I do. When my dad died, I remember feeling guilty, selfish even, because I was glad we had some notice. It was awful for him, that he had to suffer for months being so incredibly ill. But my sister, my mom and I all got the chance to do just that—all the things you said.”
“Exactly,” I said, unfolding my arms to stroke the scruff on my face with one hand. “But, you see, this wasn’t my first rodeo.” I peeked up at her and saw her draw her brows together, a slight tilt to her head. Swallowing, I laid it out for her.
“I mourned you after you ended things. I was wholly unprepared for it, and I swear to God, Lizzie, it was like mourning a death. You wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me see you, wouldn’t return a text. It was like you died. And I had no idea that last day we spent together—that last awful day—would be it.”
I saw Lizzie’s lower lip tremble, and I wanted to reach for her, to soothe her, but I also needed her to hear this. “So, as hard as this past year has been, it also taught me you never know if it’s your last moment with someone. And this part is hard for me to explain,” I scratched my face with one hand and then cupped it behind my neck, my other hand resting on the seat my ass was perched on. “It’s like it’s easier that she’s dead. I will never run into her at the store. I will never feel my phone buzz and look down to see her name on the screen. I can shut that right down in my mind because it’s not an option.”
This time when I looked up, I saw Lizzie’s eyes cast downward, wet streaks on her face. I didn’t have to spell it out completely for her, because she understood what I was saying. What she did to me.
“Knox …” she breathed.
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, ba—” I cut myself off from using a term of endearment. “I get your head was in a bad place. We went through something terrible. And everything you said to me was right. We were like a tsunami. We crashed into each other, and one thing led to another, quickly. But you need to know,” I pushed off the seat, took two slow steps toward Lyzbeth and gently grasped her chin in my hand, tipping her face up to mine. “You need to know that you were never some sort of situational girlfriend for me. Hell, we just blew past the whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing anyway.”
We both chuckled, and teardrops stuck to her eyelashes while others rolled down and pooled in the curve of her upper lip.
“You were it for me then, and you’re it for me now,” I said.
With our eyes locked on each other, Lizzie mumbled something inaudible.
“Hmm?” I responded.
“Ask me again,” she said, more confidently.
It was my turn to bunch my brows and tilt my head in question.
Lizzie’s eyes went to the bathroom window, then back to me. “Almost a year ago you asked me a question. We were scared and overwhelmed, and young and in love, and I messed it all up.”
My chest burned. It was a combination of grief over the relationship I had mourned for the past year and hope it was coming back to me, and love for the woman before me who was opening herself back up to me, as well as fear of letting myself think we could have another chance and all the “what ifs” that came with it.
“I’m still three out of four of those things,” Lizzie continued, wrapping her fingers around my wrists as my hands cupped her face.
Swallowing a dry gulp, words tumbled out of my mouth. “A lot of things were just said, and I’m a little bit in shambles right now, so I’m going to need you to recap,” I said.
Lizzie smiled. “I’m not scared anymore,” she said, her tears now dry, as resolve flashed across her face. “Please, Knox. Ask me again.”
I pulled her forehead against mine as I gasped a breath, then quickly regained my senses. To her shock, I pushed her away, and her eyes widened.
“Right here,” I said, as I pulled away and pointed a finger to the ground, indicating for her to stay put. I headed toward my truck in the driveway. “Stay right here. Don’t fucking move,” I ordered, a Cheshire cat smile on my face. “Just, just stay right there,” I nearly barked as I tripped over my feet and pivoted and ran up to my truck.
I yanked open the passenger side door and then the glove compartment and dug through some condoms to pull out the small box that had been tucked in there since the trip I took with the company, the one I was on when I got the call from Lizzie about the miscarriage. I never had the strength to return it.
I galloped back over to Lizzie, who looked like she had no idea what the hell was going on. I was fucking giddy. No drug I had ever taken had given me a high like this.
“OK,” I said as I grabbed her hands, then quickly dropped one to whip my hat off my head and toss it aside. Then I turned us this way and that until we were both in a direction that the sun wasn’t blinding us. “Lizzie, I didn’t have this for you last time because, well, because apparently we aren’t the planning type of people, but I’ve had it with me for almost a year now.”
As I let go of her hands to pull the box out of my pocket and open it, Lizzie’s hands went to her mouth and a sob broke free.
“I never loved before you, I will never love after you,” I said, as I slid the simple white gold band with a cushion cut diamond on her trembling finger, looking up to make eye contact with her, pausing, waiting for her to nod, to give consent.
She did, and I slipped it all the way up and secured it in place.
“I will love you until the day I die. Marry me.” It wasn’t a question, this time. It was a statement.
“Yes,” she choked out. But before she could reach for me, I grabbed her shoulders in my hands and bent so I was looking directly into her eyes. “But, Lizzie, no more shit, you got me? For real, this time. You can’t gut me again. I won’t survive it. You understand? We’re in this together, 100 percent. No going back. Yeah?”
Nodding through my whole speech, Lizzie answered, “Yes. Yes. Yes, Knox, I promise.”
We hugged. We kissed. We went to the courthouse the next day and obtained our marriage license and were at city hall saying our “I dos” by the end of the week, because we didn’t want any more wasted time.
And then we lived happily ever after.
Until we didn’t.