Chapter 7
Late October
Manny
It’s only a little after five in the afternoon, but the relief I feel when I pull in my driveway and park alongside Leah’s truck is a balm to what turned into a hellishly long day.
All the day’s stresses, mostly because Jorie can’t mind her own damned business, disappear like mists on the mountain.
I know it’ll all still be there waiting, but the workplace drama is somehow much less important than it was a few minutes ago.
“Hey, Mama, something smells good.”
The tension in my shoulders and spine melts away at finding Leah in the kitchen.
Things have been going great since she moved in.
I feel like the life I always wanted is finally within reach.
Coming home to someone instead of a dark and empty house has been a dream come true. Coming home to her? Indescribable.
“Mm, thanks. Just some pulled beef and gravy from last night’s roast and some homemade buns. Why don’t you clean up, and then we can eat?” She glances at the clock on the stove and then back at me.
It’s a little early for supper, but I nod.
There’s something on her mind, but I can’t tell if she’s in what she calls ‘creative mode’ and is designing a new quilt in her head or if something is bothering her.
Either way, she’ll tell me when she’s ready, or I’ll get the gist of it while she’s talking to herself.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m freshly showered and dressed in a t-shirt and a ratty pair of gray sweatpants.
I grin when she mutters something about unicorns and real-life romance novel expectations.
I shrug and pull out a stool at the breakfast nook.
A quilted pair of colorful fall placemats have taken up residence on the countertop, and there’s a matching quilt thrown over the back of the sofa.
The house I’ve been renovating for years is magically becoming a home, and I couldn’t be happier.
My mouth waters as Leah slides a plate filled with a couple of sandwiches, some potato chips, and a dill pickle spear in front of me.
Before I can thank her, she sets a bottle of my favorite beer in front of me, too.
Beer I’m pretty sure I drank the last of last night, so she must have gone shopping.
“Eat up,” she orders, but I shake my head.
“Nuh-uh, I’ll wait until you join me.”
The pleased little smile gracing her lips as she grabs her own plate and settles next to me says it all. We eat in companionable silence, and when I pop the last chip into my mouth, she turns to me.
“I have good news and maybe not-so-good news,” she announces.
Fuck. Here it comes. The old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ schtick again.
She’s leaving, I just know it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
Even with her sleeping in the guest bedroom, I’ve been living on cloud nine.
Hell, we haven’t done anything but hugs and snuggles on the sofa, and a few tame kisses goodnight at the end of each day.
“Alright, give it to me straight.”
She gives me a concerned glance. “Hmm, the good news is I found a place in Great Falls that can repair the camper.”
“Okay?”
“The not-so-good news is there’s a winter storm advisory forecast for Sunday, so I should probably drive there tonight or, at the latest, in the morning, so I’m back before the storm.”
I sag in relief. “That’s almost a four-hour drive. They’ll be closed by the time we get there if we go tonight.”
“You’re coming with me?”
There’s that pleased little smile again. The simplest things make my lady happy. It’s like no one has ever done anything for her, yet she’s constantly doing nice things for everyone else.
“Why not? I’m off until Monday. Why don’t we leave early in the morning? That way, we can grab lunch and do some of that shopping in the big city you girls seem to love.” I bounce my eyebrows, tossing her a cheesy grin.
Great Falls isn’t really that large, but compared to Wintervale, it’s a metropolis. Hell, they even have an Applebee’s.
“Really? I’m not much of a shopper unless it involves a fabric or bookstore, but I’m game if you are.”
“Alright, let me change into some jeans, and you go put on your coat. We’ll go get the camper hooked up to your truck and ready so we can roll out bright and early.”
“You know, Emanuel, if you keep being this sweet to me, I’m never going to leave, don’t you?”
I smile as she blushes. I don’t think she meant that to sound as provocative as it did.
I lean over, giving her a peck on the tip of her pert little nose before sliding off my stool.
I can’t believe she doesn’t realize she’s the sweet one, and I’m just following her example.
She’s so easy to please, I can’t help but want to do more.
“That’s the plan, Mama.”
“Well, Mama, are you ready for our first date?” I ask as I fiddle with syncing my Bluetooth to the radio in her truck as she drives.
Leah had gotten up at the crack of dawn, with me following shortly behind her when the smell of bacon and cinnamon rolls coaxed me away from the warmth of my blankets.
We’re forty-five minutes into our road trip and already in the middle of a heated but fun debate about songs and their remakes.
Leah’s musical choices run more toward classic rock, while mine tend to be the modern versions of those classics.
We’ve come up with a list of songs we’re going to listen to back-to-back and play the game of ‘who did it better.’
“Why do you call me that? Not that I don’t like it, but is it because I’m older than you?”
“What? Hell no! It’s actually because of a song. Wagon Wheel by Darius Rucker was playing on the radio the first day I met you. Besides, you’re what? Maybe five years older than me? Big deal.”
If I were a teenage girl, I’d be rolling my eyes. Leah snickers but keeps her eyes on the road. I like that she’s an attentive driver.
“I hate to break it to you, but Wagon Wheel was an unfinished movie demo written by Bob Dylan in 1973. The complete version was co-written by Dylan and Ketch Secor and released by Secor’s band the Old Crow Medicine Show in the early two thousands.”
“How do you know that?” I pull the history of the song up on my phone. “Well, shit, you’re right. To the top of our list it goes.”
“I know because I was a teenager when it was released. My grandpa was into that folksy-country, bluegrass stuff, so we listened to it a lot.”
I flash her a grin and begin downloading both versions of the song. This is the first time she’s mentioned any family. One thought leads to another, and I replay the conversation and start doing the math.
“There’s no way you’re in your forties!” I shout.
She shakes her head, but that little intriguing smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “I’ll be forty-two in January.”
My mind is officially blown. “I’ll be thirty in December. You look so young. Wait. That came out wrong, but holy shit, Mama… you’re the hot older woman fantasy come to life.”
Thank God, she starts giggling instead of my big mouth hurting her feelings or pissing her off.
“If it’s any consolation, I think the last time I was carded was when I was thirty-eight? Yeah, thirty-eight. I was teaching a three-day workshop in Wisconsin, and the students invited me out for dinner and drinks after our last class. Ah, the good old days.”
We’re laughing and discussing the differences between men and women being carded when my phone begins ringing through the truck’s speakers.
“Mind if I answer it?” I ask. At Leah’s ‘go ahead,’ I tap the button beneath the radio tuner. “Hello?”
“Hey, Manny. Can you come in and work for me today?” Jorie wheedles, using the little girl voice that seems to turn Ezra on.
I know they have a Dom and brat relationship at home, but I really wish it didn’t spill over into working hours at the garage. I’d be lying if I didn’t say hearing them in his office makes me uncomfortable, but I’ve kept that to myself so far.
“I can’t, Jorie. I’m out of town for the day.”
“You are not. I drove past your house on the way to work, and your truck was in the driveway. Try again, Manny.”
That’s weird and kind of stalkerish. My house isn’t on her way to work. In fact, I live on the opposite side of town. Granted, it’s a small town, but still. I swear, since Jolie left, Jorie has gone off her rocker.
“I am out of town, and my truck is there because I’m riding with someone else. Now I’m going to let you go because we’re being rude to my date.”
“Oh my gawd, it’s that rebound chick you have living with you, isn’t it? I can’t believe you’d do this, Manny!”
“Goodbye, Jorie.” I push the button to end the call; it immediately begins ringing again. Sighing, I mute the damned phone.
“You have one voice message from Jorie,” an accented voice announces a minute later through the truck’s speakers. “You have two new voice messages,” it announces a second time in the same amount of minutes. Shit. I power off my phone, our song game forgotten.
“She sounds… interesting. Sibling or girlfriend?” There’s something off in Leah’s tone. Her knuckles are also turning white against the dark gray of the steering wheel.
“God, no! Jorie is my boss, Ezra’s wife. She’s also a mechanic at the shop. It’s how they met.”
Her grip relaxes, and after a few moments, she takes one hand at a time off the wheel and flexes her fingers. I decide there’s no time like the present to fill her in on my last relationship.
“I did date her twin sister, though, for a while.”
Leah is quiet while I explain how Jolie and I were always thrown together as a couple in group settings and how even though we weren’t really attracted to one another, it was just easier to go with the flow to keep Jorie happy.
In hindsight, I can see how Jolie and I are at fault for letting Jorie manipulate us into something that shouldn’t have gone beyond friendship.
“I don’t want you to think Jorie is a mean person. She’s not, but there’s been something off with her since her sister left. Talking about her like this doesn’t showcase her in the best light. She really is a wonderful person once you get to know her.”
“Hmm, maybe she’s pregnant?”
“She can’t be pregnant. She just had a baby in June!” I stare at Leah in horror, having flashbacks to the previous months of poltergeist-like vomiting, mood swings, and crying jags.
“Of course she can, you’ve heard the term Irish twins, haven’t you? Plenty of women have gotten pregnant while breastfeeding and had two babies in the same calendar year.”
“I wonder if Ezra knows this? It would explain so much, although I haven’t noticed her walking around with a puke bucket, so maybe she’s not, but I’ll mention it to him.
I’ve been meaning to talk to him about other things that I’m uncomfortable with at work.
Might as well bring a list and get it over with all at once. ”
“Mm, good for you. Setting boundaries and protecting your own mental health can be difficult, especially when it involves work or family relationships.”
“Yeah, exactly. I’m guessing you know this from experience, too.”
“Yup.” She pauses. I can see she’s struggling with how much to tell me.
“Mama, you don’t have to tell me anything if you aren’t ready to share.” I reach my hand across the center console and rest it on her thigh.
“It’s not that, Emanuel. I’m just trying to… Do you know who Bucky Trench is?”
“Maybe? Top-fuel drag racer, right?”
“Right. So, my family owns… owned Goodwin Performance.” She pauses again, only this time the space between us is stretched with tension, and then it hits me.
“You’re Bucky Trench’s wife? That was you?” Her hand drops to her lower abdomen, but her voice is steady when she continues, as if she didn’t suffer and almost die from being fucking stabbed. The media tried crucifying her, until poof—the scandal disappeared from the headlines as if by magic.
“Ex-wife. We’re divorced. Bucky got everything in the settlement, including my parents, but honestly, good riddance. In the long run, my Grams, that’s my mom’s mom by the way, made sure I was the one who came out on top, and yeah, that was me.”
“Pull over.”
“What? Manny, I can’t just pull over. W-Why are you so upset?”
“Yeah, you can. There’s an exit coming up. Take it and then pull over.”
Leah’s lips pinch together, and her hands shake as she flips on the blinker and takes the offramp.
When she finally puts the truck into park, I throw the passenger door open and jump out. She probably thinks I’m disgusted, and I am, but dammit, it’s not at her—it’s for her. I need a minute to get a handle on my emotions.
Stomping around the back of the camper, I come up on the driver’s side and yank her door open.
“Manny… Emanuel…”
God, I love that she’s the only one who uses my given name.
Releasing the seatbelt, I pull her out of the truck.
Wrapping her in my arms, Leah stiffens. I squeeze her tighter, the urge to protect her from every bad thing, past, present, and future, riding me hard.
I’ve never met anyone who was so starved for touch or someone who needs it more than Leah.
I rock my little mama slow and easy just like the song.
The gentle swaying motion is the opposite of the storm rolling inside me.
That is, until she melts against me and tentatively puts her arms around me, too.
I bury my face in her neck and just breathe in the lemony-sugar cookie scent that is uniquely Leah.
The soft pat, pat, pat of her hand on my shoulder blade as she tries to comfort me is what tips me over the edge.
It’s probably too soon to tell her I love her, but I damned sure can show her every day.
When I finally relax the tightness of my hold, I catch a glimpse of our happily ever after shimmering in her pretty brown eyes.