Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
I scrub the roasting pan, watching soap bubbles form and pop, letting my mind wander. Is it just me, or am I always scrubbing pots and pans? I suppose this is what we call ‘adulting’. I sometimes wish there was less ‘adulting’ and more ‘playing’ in my life.
The sound of Reeves’s deep voice drifts from Liam's room, reading I Love You to the Moon and Back for what must be the hundredth time this month. He never tires of it, always begging for just one more read.
His voice rises and falls with the story's rhythm, and his tone is uncharacteristically soft and sweet.
My heart swells despite my exhaustion. For all his faults—the late nights, the temper, the endless pool and jam sessions with his buddies—he's an amazing father.
Liam adores him, especially during story time when he brings his favorite stories to life.
Once Liam is finally tucked in, Reeves appears in the kitchen, vape pen in hand, his long dark hair tied back loosely. "Need to unwind?"
I hesitate, then nod, my shoulders screaming. "Just a little." The weekend was brutal at the pool hall, and my body aches from carrying drink trays through the crowded room for hours.
The doorbell chimes, and Liza bounces in wearing her ridiculous SpongeBob PJs, arms loaded with enough junk food to feed an army. “Movie night!”
"You're terrible," I laugh, eyeing the family-size bag of Cheetos with equal parts desire and guilt. "You know I'm trying to lose weight."
"Live a little.” She dumps everything on the coffee table in a colorful avalanche. "Now, let’s dish about Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious,” she whispers. “What's up with this Tuesday meeting?"
I grab us two glasses of red, and sink into the worn couch cushions, pulling my feet under me. "I have no idea. He was so... intense about it. It was so weird.”
"Maybe he's secretly in love with you," she wiggles her eyebrows playfully. "I mean, I know he barely knows you, but have you seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching?"
"Stop it." But my cheeks warm at the memory of his piercing green eyes. "He probably just wants to discuss business. The pool hall's been struggling. We’ve been late on our rent more than once.”
"Business doesn't look at you like that." Liza takes a long hit from her vape, blowing mango-scented clouds toward the ceiling. "He's different, you know? Like he exists in his own world. All slow and controlled and..." She waves her hand vaguely.
The opening credits of Dirty Dancing roll across the screen, but my mind keeps drifting to Tuesday. What could Caine possibly want with me? The uncertainty makes my stomach flutter in a way I'm not entirely comfortable examining.
I settle deeper into the couch, my gaze drifting toward the garage. I can hear Reeves and his bandmates in the garage, the rough strumming of Reeves’s guitar, his voice weaving a raw, magnetic energy through the room.
A flicker of appreciation hits me; he's so fiercely passionate, and in these moments, he shines like the man I fell in love with. I try to focus on him, but thoughts of Caine's intense eyes intrude, sparking a strange mixture of excitement and guilt.
I get up and close the mudroom door, the sound fading.
When I get back to the sofa, I’m still distracted, my brain full of this mysterious man I barely know.
Liza's voice pulls me back to the moment. "Jenna! Are you even watching?"
I snap my eyes back to the screen, but my mind flits. Why does he look at me like that? The image of his full lips curling into a soft smile, his slow laughter that feels almost intoxicating, invades my thoughts again. I bite my lip, trying to dispel the warmth pooling in my stomach.
The movie ends, and I feel like I haven’t watched it at all. Between a few puffs of vapes and thoughts of Caine, my mind was completely somewhere else. But my stomach was completely present—I think I’ve eaten half the bag of Cheetos.
Liza and I sit in the garage with the boys like the groupies we are.
As Reeves strums the guitar effortlessly, I admire his uninhibited energy.
I want to cheer him on, to revel in the essence of who he is—the father, the husband, the man I adore.
But then the memory of Caine flickers through my mind again, and I’m shocked by how a single man, a stranger essentially, can affect me so.
My heart races as the sound of Reeves’s voice wraps around me, creating a perfect backdrop, yet it seems almost muted compared to what I'm feeling inside about Caine—who really is no one to me. I glance back at Liza, who’s a little too busy flirting with Sam, blissfully unaware of my turmoil.
Shouldn’t I feel guilty? Shouldn’t I be focused on my husband? I want to chase these thoughts away, the excitement, the thrill of it all, but to do so would mean denying a part of myself I’ve kept buried so long.
It’s not just about Caine; it’s the thrill of something new, something forbidden. Every time I think of our conversations at the pool hall or the shared glances, my pulse quickens. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and I don't know what to do with these feelings.
“C’mon, Jenna,” Liza's voice pulls me back again. “You’re daydreaming again. Let's go dance!”
I glance up, forcing a smile, and nod, still trying to shake off the swelling tension in my chest. I stand up and join her, my heart hammering, torn between the safety of what I know I should cherish and the intoxicating pull of something that offers an uncharted territory of the unknown.
As I sway to the music, the flickering lights dancing around me, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to give in—to reach beyond my comfort and my usual rule-following, and do something crazy—what it would be like to kiss him.
I shake my head at the forbidden thought. What is wrong with me?
Liza's already making eyes at Sam across the room as he tunes his bass. "Girl, look at those arms," she whispers, nudging me with her elbow.
I smile, but something in my chest aches. I love my life, my family, our cozy, chaotic home, but sometimes... sometimes I wonder if there's more, if I'm missing something I can't even name.
I'm pouring coffee when Liza stumbles into my kitchen, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes.
Her hair's a wild mess, and she's wearing one of Sam's band t-shirts over her jeans from last night.
The morning light filtering through the kitchen window makes the dark circles under her eyes even more pronounced.
"Coffee. Need coffee." She slumps into a chair at my kitchen table, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair.
I slide a mug across to her, the ceramic making a soft scraping sound against the wooden tabletop. "Rough night?"
"Amazing night." She grins, wrapping her hands around the steaming cup like it's a lifeline. "Sam has the moves—"
"Please spare me the details." I peek out the window above the sink, my hands still damp from rinsing the coffee pot.
Through the maple's branches, I catch a glimpse of Sam sneaking out the garage door, his collar turned up against the morning chill.
"You know he's done this with half the women in Cumberland. I know for a fact he hooked up with that new waitress at Dave’s Diner. "
"So?" Liza shrugs, taking a long sip. "I'm not looking to marry him. Not everyone wants the whole domestic package."
"But don't you want..." I trail off, watching a cardinal land on the maple, its red feathers vivid against the dark branches. "Something real?"
"This is real. Real fun." She winks, stretching her legs under the table. "Not everyone needs the white picket fence, honey. Some of us are perfectly happy without the mortgage and the responsibility."
I turn back to face her, leaning against the counter. "How do you do it? Just... disconnect like that? I've never understood."
"Who says I'm disconnecting? I'm living in the moment. Feeling what I feel." She stretches, catlike, her joints popping audibly. "No expectations means no disappointments. It's actually quite liberating."
The cardinal flies away, and I feel a strange emptiness watching it go, like it's taking something with it I can't name. "I could never be that casual about... intimacy. It's always meant something more to me."
"That's because you're a romantic," Liza says, coming over to squeeze my shoulder, the scent of last night's perfume still clinging to her. "You fall in love with love itself. Me? I fall in lust and enjoy the ride. No complications."
I shake my head, amazed at her ability to keep her heart locked away while giving her body so freely. It's like we're speaking different languages when it comes to relationships. Maybe that's why we've stayed friends so long—we're never competing for the same thing.
She shrugs, taking a long sip of coffee. “It’s no problem, really. We’re just having fun.”
I lean against the counter, studying her. “But seriously, I don’t get how you do it. Sleep with guys and not get attached.”
Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she sets her cup down. “Jenna, it’s simple. I don’t let myself get attached in the first place.”
“But don’t you ever... want more?” My voice comes out softer than I intended, betraying the longing I often try to hide.
Liza tilts her head, considering me for a moment before shaking her head slowly. “Not really. Love complicates things too much. It’s easier this way—no expectations, no heartbreak.”
I sigh, turning back to my oatmeal. The idea of detachment feels so foreign to me—like trying to imagine living without air.
Love is messy and complicated and often painful, but it’s also what makes life rich and meaningful.
It’s what keeps me going through the tough times, the glue holding my frayed edges together.
“Doesn’t it ever get lonely?” I ask quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
She shrugs again, more thoughtfully this time. “Sometimes maybe... but I’ve got friends like you to keep me grounded.” She smiles warmly at me before adding with a wink, “And there are always new adventures around the corner.”
I can’t help but smile back at her easy confidence. Liza lives in a world that feels miles away from mine—full of freedom and spontaneity, where heartache doesn’t seem to exist. Her carefree spirit is both admirable and bewildering to me.
I watch her sip her coffee with that relaxed grin on her face, and part of me envies that ability to float through life without getting weighed down by emotions. It must be liberating, not having to constantly worry about the future or the consequences of falling for someone you shouldn’t fall for.
“Just be careful,” I murmur, my voice laced with genuine concern.
She smiles. “Always am,” she points out. "Honestly, I'm more worried about you than I am about me right now."
I stand speechless, pondering her words for a second too long. I laugh nervously. "Seriously, there's nothing to worry about."
She shakes her head. "That's not what I've observed, my friend. Trust me when I say… you're the one who needs to be careful."
Her words shut me the hell up, because as crazy as it sounds, she might just be on to something. I think of my upcoming games with Caine next Tuesday, and I do worry a little.
I’ll definitely need to keep Liza’s advice in mind.
Just to be safe.
The door chimes at exactly one o'clock. Caine strides in, his strong energy instantly filling the quiet, empty pool hall. My heart nearly stops as he nears the bar, his eyes locked on mine. Why is he always so intense?
Damn.
"Take a break," he says, his voice low and smooth. "It's show time."