9. Sean
NINE
SEAN
I was sitting in front of the TV on my own—Mikey had decided he wanted to play video games in his room—when my phone buzzed. I picked it up off the coffee table and saw an unfamiliar number, then unlocked the device to see a picture message. Lizzie texted like she talked, bubbly and sweet and without advance warning. First was a photo, then a slew of follow-up messages.
Lizzie
As promised.
Lizzie
Fair’s fair.
Lizzie
Laurel is the one on the left, in case it wasn’t clear.
Lizzie
It’s Lizzie, by the way.
I clicked on the photo and huffed a laugh. There were only two people in the photo: Lizzie on the right, and another brunette on the left. I probably could have figured out who was who—and when I answered Lizzie to tell her as much, she sent me a string of emojis that only made partial sense.
I wasn’t sure when I started smiling, but at that point I definitely was. I opened the photo again and zoomed in. The other brunette, Laurel, was pretty and slim, with her head tilted toward Lizzie’s. Lizzie was wearing a figure-hugging black dress that hit just below the knee, her legs covered in sheer black tights that ended at shiny black ankle boots. Her hair fell in shiny brown waves around her shoulders. I’d never seen it down before, and I liked how dark and glossy it looked. I bet it was as soft as the rest of her, and my fingers flexed with the desire to feel it running through my fingers. The two of them were standing in a bar or restaurant, and the light was low, but Lizzie’s smile still shone through the picture.
A notification popped up at the top of my screen.
Lizzie
Thoughts????????
Lizzie
That’s the only photo I have of her, but I could probably get another one.
I blinked. Right. I’d zoomed the photo in far enough that the other woman had been partially cropped out while I studied Lizzie, so I panned over and had another look. Laurel was a good-looking woman. Her smile didn’t have the same kind of brightness as Lizzie’s, but she looked nice. Not sure she would’ve turned my head if I walked past her on the street, but that wasn’t saying much. I hadn’t been looking to date anyone recently; I’d been too focused on providing for Mikey.
Lizzie
She likes going to the gym, does yoga, and hikes a lot in the summertime. No kids. She’s an architect, super smart, very funny. You’ll love her.
Sean
You work fast. You sure your skills as a matchmaker haven’t just been bullying people into dating and not taking no for an answer?
Lizzie
Rude. She’s interested, btw. I’ll send you her number. I like her a lot, so don’t make me look bad. Kids are screaming, gotta go.
Another message came through with Laurel’s phone number. I stared at it for a while, then set my phone aside and rubbed my face with both hands. Being set up on a date wasn’t an awful thing. It’d been years since I’d been out with a woman, and I wasn’t opposed to meeting someone. This Laurel woman seemed to tick a lot of boxes.
So why did I not care about contacting her at all?
I let my eyes glaze over as I watched the TV for a while, pretending I didn’t know the answer to that question. Then I picked my phone up and probably made the wrong decision.
Sean
How should I save your number in my phone?
It took Lizzie nearly thirty minutes to answer, but when she did, all she sent was a string of question marks.
Sean
If I’m not supposed to use your name.
Lizzie
Har har.
Sean
Is that a childhood nickname?
Lizzie
This better be your way of telling me that you and Laurel have hit it off already.
Sean
You’re relentless.
Lizzie
One of my many talents.
My mind took about three milliseconds to go straight to the gutter, and my fingers moved before I could stop myself.
Sean
What other talents have you been keeping hidden all these years?
I hit send, then I froze. Three dots appeared on the screen to show that Lizzie was typing a response. Then they disappeared. Then reappeared and kept flashing for an excruciating two full minutes. Then they disappeared again.
I swore quietly and tossed my phone aside before scrubbing my face with my hands. The light from the TV flickered over the room as I slumped down on the couch, and a gust of wind blew against the house. My phone remained still and silent.
What was I thinking? I couldn’t flirt with Lizzie. And I had been flirting. I’d been thinking about those sparkling eyes and the curves I hadn’t noticed when I’d first run into her. Or the cute way she glared at me outside the school, and how it made fizzy bubbles explode in my chest.
I was thinking about untying that red sweater she’d worn to Thanksgiving and letting my fingers drift over the edges of her bra. I’d been thinking about laying her down on my bed and watching her back arch while I tasted her. I’d been thinking about how my cock ached to feel the heated clasp of her.
But I couldn’t have her.
She was my best friend’s little sister. Worse, I’d just moved back to Heart’s Cove, and the whole point of coming here was to try to build a more robust support system.
How would Aaron react if he found out I was texting his sister? He’d probably punch me in the face; he’d been protective of her when we were younger. He didn’t seem to appreciate her now, but that didn’t mean he’d want her dating the likes of me.
Indulging this attraction would only get me in trouble. Maybe contacting Laurel was a good idea. That way, I could get Lizzie out of my mind and get this tension out of my system. But instead of grabbing my phone and making contact with the other woman, I flicked off the television and made my way upstairs.
I’d rented this three-bedroom house for a year’s lease and hired movers to get all our stuff up here in one truck. The kitchen was half-unpacked and most of the furniture was in place, but boxes still gathered in the corners of every room. Mikey had unpacked his clothing and made his bed, and a few of his favorite toys were lined up along the wall, as if waiting for the appropriate shelf on which they could be displayed.
He’d been excited about the move, but it had been hard to pull him out of school and away from his friends. Now that we were here, I wondered if I’d made the right decision. All this upheaval, all these boxes, the packing and unpacking…for what?
I couldn’t mess it up. He only had me. I couldn’t afford to make big mistakes when my son was involved.
He pulled his headphones off when he saw me in the doorway. His game froze on the screen when he paused it, and he arched his brows at me.
“Almost bedtime, buddy.”
Mikey’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded and got up. He brushed past me on his way to the bathroom, then paused at the doorway. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we get a Christmas tree this year?”
My lungs collapsed on themselves and cut off my breath. The discomfort stopped the immediate refusal from leaving my lips. Instead, I swallowed hard, inhaled, and forced myself to sound as calm as possible when I said, “Your mom does Christmas, Mikey. You know that.”
The look he gave me was a punch to the gut. He nodded, lips turned down. “Okay. I just… It was fun decorating the tree with Zach and Hazel. I thought…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind.”
When he’d disappeared into the bathroom, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The coming month would be excruciating. It always was. Memories pressed on me from every direction, each and every one of them like a razor blade across my chest. I wanted to be the best father I could be, and I wanted to give Mikey the world.
But could I give him this?
Could I pretend to put on a happy face? Put decorations up with him and celebrate a holiday that had only brought me misery?