Chapter 10
TEN
Jes s
It’s hard to watch your best friend spiral. It’s hard watching her flush a love like Liam’s down the drain. It’s hard for me to help her do it, but I try. I help her pick out clothes for a date with the other guy, I take care of her when she stops taking care of herself and gets sick, I even attempt to manipulate the situation, which ends up backfiring. (I know, I’ve learned my lesson, don’t worry.) But no matter what I do, Brit is hellbent on going through this rather horrific train wreck full steam ahead.
I just have to take a back seat and brace for impact, vowing to help put her back together in the end. She’s done it for me. I know she'll do it for me again, too. When we come out the other side of whatever it is she’s going through, I’ll tell her, and just like we do, the roles will swap. The caretaker will become the patient.
Her and I have that sort of symbiotic relationship. We find equilibrium i n being the other person's champion. (Yin and Yang.) And right now, I’m surviving on the fact that she needs me, her daughters need me, and Eden needs me. I can spread myself thin and let the “doing” carry me through this time, too.
A time when I haven’t heard from Tommy. At all. No text messages to check on Eden. And certainly no text message responding to my “fuck you” text. It stings, and if I dwell, I’ll dissolve. Can’t do that. Not yet. My girls all need me.
As I finish getting Eden dressed in her jammies, Caroline pokes her head into my room. It’s almost eerie how much she looks like her mom. She’s just a bit taller, but has those same green eyes, same golden blonde hair, same half smile.
“What’s up, babe?” I ask, snapping the buttons on Edie’s onesie.
“Do you think she’s okay?”
I sigh. “She’s going to be okay.” I look at her, trying to will some of that belief into her with a warm smile.
“I feel like they should be here by now,” she says, worried.
I shake my head. “Hospitals are slow. Even if they discharge you, it could be hours before you get to leave.” Brit ended up in the hospital…again. She had another fainting episode, but this time Liam was there for her. And oddly, that’s a huge relief. There’s no one better for the job of taking care of her. Which means I might be out of a job soon when we all move into his house at Spearhead Lake tomorrow.
Liam all but begged for us to move to his house, and reluctantly I caved .
I think I’m more curious than anything. Brit’s told me her house looks like a hovel compared to his place on Spearhead.
All I said when Liam texted me to make sure it was alright that the girls and I stayed with him while Britain recovers was, “I’ll help Alex burn your body if this goes south.” And he said, “message received.” I hope it is. For Britain and the girls, I really hope.
“Okay.” Caroline’s small voice betrays her. She is not okay.
“Okay, raid the pantry. Get your sister, meet me in the living room in five minutes.” I instruct her.
“Okay?” Is all she says before shuffling down the hall for Elodie. I blow a couple raspberries on Eden’s cheeks and listen to her giggle before sliding her on my hip and walking towards the living room. I text Damian on my way.
Jess
Where are you? Brit ended up in the hospital again.
Damian
Liam is with her, right?
Yes, and?
Jess, I can’t be there. With all of you. It’s killing me.
Oh, Damian. He left a couple days ago for a meeting in Silicon Valley. I think it might have been a farce, though. Watching Brit do this dance with Matt and Liam, it is killing him. I saw it firsthand. If I know him, he’ll have flown Summer out in an attempt to bury his hurt in someone else. I guess I’ll leave him to it .
“What are we doing?” Elodie dumps a pile of candy onto the coffee table.
“You girls ever seen Goodfellas?” I ask. They both reply, ‘ No. ’ “Well, you heard it here first, mob wife aesthetic is gonna be big. Your education starts today.” I may as well be speaking Greek, but they shrug and settle into the couch. Caroline takes Eden from me and cuddles her into her Boppy while Elodie sprawls out beside me.
Mob wife aesthetic might not actually go big, but at a minimum, I know I’ll smile when I hear Spider say, “ Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Tommy. ” (See, already smiling.)
The first time I came to Spearhead Lake, I’ll admit, I was underwhelmed. There’s not a lot to it. Three businesses housed in log cabins on one side of the road, the same thing on the other side, and just dense forest all around. We never even saw the lake that day. Just these sort of drab-looking, side-of-the-road, mountain-town businesses.
But the second time, when we crested the top of the mountain road where Liam’s house is, I caught a glimpse of the water, and it started clicking. Why Brit loves this place, why she feels at peace here, why she couldn’t wait to get back to it all.
Then seeing Liam’s house (think Arch Digest-level mountain house that could’ve been designed by Amber Lewis), meeting Carly (their chef) in real life, and walking around the back deck and lake front, it was even more obvious why she loved this place. (And Liam.) I’d convinced myself if Liam and Brit don’t work out, I’ll take a crack at it. Because this is the fucking dream.
It’s been a dream , being here. Really. The girls take Eden all the time. Carly cooks. There’s a staff of cleaning crew that comes every few days, and aside from hearing Brit and Liam have sex occasionally, I’m sleeping well.
I could be really happy, enjoying this break from reality. But I’m scared for when the time comes and I have to go back. To DC. To Tommy’s house. To deal with…that. And it’s coming, I know it.
As I sit with Eden on a blanket on the little beach area beside the dock, I think I probably look happy, pouring sand into buckets and watching Eden’s eyes go wide with delight. I laugh when she squeals, and we do it over and over again. A snapshot of us would be titled, “Mother and Daughter Enjoying Vacation.” But you know how that goes, it’d hardly be the truth.
When we head up the dock steps to reapply sunscreen and refill water bottles, I could die when I walk into the kitchen in just a bikini and see Alex sitting at the island reading a newspaper. (Who even gets newspapers anymore, you ask? Liam. Liam does, because he’s old.)
I freeze (my M.O. when it comes to this guy), but he barely acknowledges me. He lifts his head, sees it’s me, and then it’s back to reading. Cool. Fucking amazing even. (I’m obviously being sarcastic.) I know my body isn’t “bangin’” like it used to be. I’ve had a kid, and I’m in my 30s. But, like, not even a small glance? It’s always like this, though. Whatever this is. It’s one-sided.
No, it’s two-sided. It’s just that I like him, and he hates me, so now I have to hate him, too .
I thought for a while he didn’t hate me, maybe even liked me, but turned out I was just a distraction while he was trying to get over his real love, Amy. (Also my M.O. now, being the placeholder.) Hate that that’s who I am. I’ve never been a “poor me” type person, but fuck it. I just want to feel sorry about myself for a little bit.
One question, though: When do I get to start being the one that got away?
“Hi, Alex. Great to see you, too.” I deadpan without looking at him. I put Eden in her highchair, throwing some cheerios on her tray while I refill our water bottles. All while Alex says…nothing back. I don’t think he even sees me and the back of my throat burns painfully at that barb of truth.
I grab Brit’s tote bag out of the mudroom, throwing the sunscreen, a couple pouches, and some snacks in it. Looking at Eden, who’s still busy fingering her cheerios, then at Alex, I make the decision to leave her and run upstairs for the Pack ‘n Play. If Alex is here, I won’t be. We’ll be on the deck or the dock all day.
I set everything by the back door and start cleaning up the mess Eden just made.
“You need help?”
I slowly turn from where I’m squatting on the floor picking up cereal to look at the man who just spoke to me for the first time in…years. (Aside from when he said my name at Brit’s house. Which I don’t think counts, because I’m almost positive I imagined it.)
My mouth is almost certainly hanging open, staring at this stupid man who still makes me swoon. This attraction, it doesn’t even make sense. He’s got light hair (sandy colored) and blue eyes, and has a body only capable of being formed by hours in a gym per day. (He’s bulky, in the best way.) He’s just so not my type. Tommy is my type. Dark hair, dark eyes, slim, dresses like a city boy, might run, but that’s the extent of his exercise plan.
This Chris Hemsworth knockoff is not supposed to do it for me, for so many reasons. And I hate him for that. I hate that he ignores me, avoids me, and treats me like shit. Hate him for those reasons, too.
“Not from you,” I finally manage to get out. As if I wasn't already confused as shit by what’s happening here, Alex looks at me. I mean looks at me. Not in the eyes. He checks out my breasts, my ass, the v between my legs that’s spread wide open in my squatted position. It’s quick, but I see it. It makes me irrationally happy for the briefest of seconds. No clue if he liked what he saw, but he saw me. (Also glad I opted for the coral bikini, LSpace, with the low cut bottoms. It makes my olive skin and dark hair pop.)
Dropping the cereal in the trash, I wash my hands, throw my hair up in a claw clip and get ready to leave. But he stops me.
“So, where’s Tommy?” He’s looking right at me now and my heart stops in my chest. Alex asking about Tommy makes me feel queasy.
“Asia.” That’s all I say, staring back at him.
“With Jamie?”
The color drains from my face. This fucking dick. He knows. He saw my text.
“Yeah, with Jamie.” I stop looking at him. “Thank you for the reminder.” I dry my hands off, then head for the mudroom where I slip on the first sweatshirt I find. I suddenly feel exposed and I hate it .
“Sorry, bout that .” He says, going back to reading his newspaper.
I scoff, “I’m sure you aren’t.” I roll my eyes and shake my head.
“And how would you know?” he asks back, tone even, not invested in this conversation at all.
“Because I know you, Alex. Why are you even talking to me if not to hurt me?”
“Not true,” he says nonchalantly.
“Sure it is. But why? Why do you get to hurt me? Why would you want to? Why do you care, huh?” He pulls his head back slightly like he’s surprised.
And then he gives me the most I’ve gotten from him in six fucking years. “Because you hurt me first.”
No . I shake my head. He has it all fucking wrong.
“Not possible.” I’m vehemently shaking my head back and forth. In order to hurt someone they have to care. “You,” I accuse trying to solidify my tone, “called me a distraction, a no-body.” He shrugs. He shrugs and it deflates me like a three day-old balloon. “You made me feel so stupid,” I say, sounding (and feeling) about six inches tall. Just like I did when I overheard him talking about me.
He doesn’t say a word back. Not one fucking word.
“You know what, you were right, though. I am a distraction, just a ‘bump in the road,’ for a lot of people. So thank you for reminding me exactly who I am to everyone here.” I turn away, hiding my watery eyes, and march out the door with a baby on one arm, and the tote and Pack ‘n Play on my other.
In hindsight, sending that text to “Amy” may have been a mistake. Because now that I know Alex knows, I have to tell Brit. And then may be it’s time for me to stop being a supporting cast member, and just pack up our things and go.
Alex
She overheard me? I try not to think about that night. Mostly successfully. I think about her . A lot. Too much. But not that night.
I might have called her a distraction. I think I used the exact words calling her ‘a bump in the road.’ I think I said something worse, too, but it’s fuzzy. Whenever I think about that night, I think about other things, and all I see is red, so yeah. I don’t remember exactly what I said. Jess does, though. Fuck .
Soon to be in my new nightmare rotation will be Jess in that little bikini telling me I made her feel stupid. Right on cue, there it is again, that fucking pain in my chest I felt when she just told me that.
I’m practically living the nightmare now. I can see it. Jess and Eden playing on the beach, laughing together, having not a care in the world. And then it’ll be fucking slow-motion torture watching her bounce up the deck stairs. I’ll have to rush to the kitchen island before she spots me, and then pretend like I don’t see her. Which is fucking impossible.
She’s this leggy little thing with an ass that’s too round, full as fuck breasts, and tan skin that doesn’t come from a bottle. And that hair. That hair has haunted me from the moment I saw it. That long Disney princess-type hair that she almost never w ears entirely up. It’s always down and around her shoulders, a special kind of torture for someone like me.
That would be someone who’s dreamed about wrapping her hair around my fist while she moves over me. I’m so fucked.
It’s been six fucking years. And hating her, it’s been fucking miserable.
But maybe, for the first time I’m seeing it like I fucked her up first. Fuck! This doesn’t make shit better, though. It’s just the sixth circle of hell. Just another way this whole situation gets even more fucked.
I walk into the great room and stand at an angle from the large picture windows so no one can see me. And I watch her struggle. To set up the Pack ‘n Play with one hand. I should go down there. I’m actually itching to go because it’s painful to watch. And then she drops the Pack ‘n Play in defeat and uses her one free hand to wipe away tears from underneath her sunglasses. Fucckkkk . Alright, this might be worse than the chest pain earlier.
“Alex!” My niece Elodie exclaims from the front door.
“Hey, E.” I quickly turn away from the window.
“What are you doing here?” She asks with excitement. She’s just like Damian. Looks like him, too. It’s funny to see my best friend reincarnated as a kid. Not both kids are like this, though. Caroline looks just like my sister. Elodie looks just like him. Acts like him, too. Just happy, and charming all the fucking time.
“Liam asked me to come over for a bit. Hey, you got a minute?” She nods with a smile. “Can you go help Jess? I think she needs a couple extra hands. ”
“Aye Aye, captain!” she says, then bounds out the back door and down the deck. I go back to watching, making sure Elodie helps, but what I see next wrenches my heart.
It’s Elodie embracing Jess as she cries, baby still perched on her hip. I don’t know if she’s crying for me? Or about Tommy? But being the sick fuck I am, I hope it’s for me.
They break apart a moment later, when Liam, Caroline, and some other teenager make their way down the back steps hauling paddle boards. I was trying to leave Brit alone. Liam said she had “the talk” with Matt today, which thank christ for that. But does she know her best friend is out there crying by herself?
It’s not really my place to say anything, I don’t think. Also feel like maybe Jess and Tommy splitting up isn’t common knowledge. Damian would’ve told me if he knew. I think.
“Hey, man.” Liam comes through the door that leads out to the deck. “Thanks for coming.”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
Liam sort of bounces his palm against a leg. Nervous.
“Think you could stick around a bit longer? Just have a…let’s call it a…bad feeling.” Wasn’t really planning on staying here any longer than necessary. Not good for my mental health being around Jess, but bad feelings tend to actually mean shit to me. Whenever I’ve gotten one, there’s usually something pretty fucking shitty on the other side.
“Yeah, I’ll be here.” I take a seat in the great room, in a deep club chair that gives me a clear view of the back deck and dock. I’ll just burn the view of Jess in that bikini into my brain and accept that I’ll never sleep again.
The banging on the door instantly has the hair rising on the back of my neck. I was just about ready to leave, too. Something about sitting here, watching this sort of idyllic summer day unfold in front of me was unnerving. I’m still not in it. I’m just sort of existing on the outside, looking in. I know it’s my family, too, but it’s not my family. Make sense?
Bang. Bang. There it is again. Seven paces to the front door and I open it, already pissed off.
Matt looks fucking drunk.
“You made her cry, didn’t you?” I ask him
“If I haven’t yet, I will,” he spits back in a sadistic tone. For that alone, I could kill him. But I know how these things go. Can’t be the first to throw a punch, can’t actually kill him either. At least not right here, right now. Too many witnesses. Too many liabilities.
“Your daddy know you’re here?” I ask him, and his eyes practically bulge. “Should I give him a call?” I pull my phone out of my pocket, and taunt him with it.
“Fuck you, Alex.”
“Sick comeback, bro .” Bro . It’s a taunt. His dad treats me like the son he never had, and Matt knows it. “You about done here?” I ask. When he doesn’t immediately respond, because he’s moving slow, high on something, I slam the door on his face and lock it.
I hedge my bets with a quick call to the sheriffs, then send off a quick text to Constantine about his son just as the banging picks back up again. Just like I knew it would.
This time I open the door and slip outside. Could get ugly. Kind of hope it does, need to take out the self loathing on something. I back Matt up and away from the front porch so what I say doesn’t make it onto the doorbell cam .
“I fucking dare you, Matt. You have no idea how much you’d make my goddamn day by attempting to lay a finger on me. But you won’t do it…can’t, can you?”
He spits on the ground. Weak .
“You’re gonna beat the shit out of me? Just like your dad did to your mom?” His retort is a low blow.
“Nah, I won’t have to hit you that many times,” I say back coolly. Not letting him see how much that comment actually hits and hurts. I’ve tried so hard to be everything Ray couldn’t be.
“What happens when my daddy finds out you hit his precious son ?”
“He’ll probably give me a pat on the back for sticking up for his daughter .” He didn’t like that one. It sounds incestuous, but I promise, it’s not. Constantine just thinks of me and my sister like his kids. I don’t think I’d be lying if I said he loved us more.
Liam comes flying down the front steps, looking out for blood, but I can’t let him take this moment from me. I need it. Matt’s close to cracking, so I get between the two of them when Matt goes off. He really loses his crap this time. Spewing shit about my mom and my sister being whores and white trash. I let it go. Most of it rolling off my back.
Before I let Liam get a word in edgewise, I respond. “The only reason you’re not already unconscious is because you’re too fucking weak to take a swing,” I say viciously. “Your ass would be fucking toasted and you know it. But if you really wanna talk about scum of the earth, it’s you, bud. I should’ve fucking ended you 17 years ago. You’ve grown to be such a big man, talking about women like this.” I practically spit, “Pathetic. You are your mother’s son, Matt . ”
And that’s when Matt loses control and takes a swing. Finally .
I let him clip me, just barely on the chin, then stepping back, putting my weight into it, I slam him back and the audible crunch is almost as deeply satisfying as the view I have, looking down on him, knocked out cold on the ground.
Chances of him ending up with Britain -%100.