Chapter 19
19
[Genie]
A fter Judd drives us back to his place, he makes me lunch, and we sit on his deck discussing everything and nothing while we eat.
I like the color green. He likes purple.
His favorite number is 3.14159265359. Mine is simply 13.
He can multiply large numbers in his head, which has never been my specialty. We discuss Mr. Martin and Math Club. Mrs. Chapman and the middle school library.
I explain how I once had a friend who thought antidisestablishmentarianism was the longest word in the English dictionary, however, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is actually longer and officially a word according to Merriam-Webster.
Judd tells me how he loves to garden, growing as much as he can for himself.
I tell him more random calendar dates.
When our conversation settles into silence, Judd excuses himself, suggesting he should check in on a few things for work. After he heads to his home office, I step into the library. I don’t know how it goes for him, but I cannot concentrate and eventually wander back into the great room where I find him behind the island counter working on dinner.
“Can I help?” I sidle up next to Judd, who has taken chicken breasts out of his refrigerator along with an array of fresh vegetables.
“Sure. I was going to grill all this, if you want to chop up some of these veggies.”
“Hand me a knife, chef master.” I’m not great in the kitchen but I can chop a carrot.
Only Judd doesn’t seem to like how I’m cutting the long, thick vegetable, so he steps up behind me. “Like this.” He cups the back of my hand and positions my other one a safe distance away, then moves our collective hands in a steady rhythm. Up and down. Up and down. In a measured beat. In an even spacing, until I’m no longer certain who is doing the slicing.
I’m too focused on his hand over mine. The heat of his touch. The tenderness of his instruction. The patience and pace.
“Good girl,” Judd whispers near my ear, his voice low, sending a shiver down my spine. Why is that praise phrase so freaking hot?
I clear my throat, realizing that I was leaning into him. “You’re a good teacher.”
“I still have a lot to learn.” His tone remains quiet.
I don’t turn toward him, keeping my focus on the now slivered carrot. “Like what?”
“Like how to better express myself.”
I drop the knife and spin to face Judd. Our bodies close. When he doesn’t step back, I’m pinned between the warmth of his chest and the counter at my back.
“I think you’re doing just fine expressing yourself.”
I’m standing here wanting you . You don’t get more direct than that, but Judd also gave me an out. Telling me if I didn’t want the same thing as him, feel the same way as he does, nothing has to happen between us.
Suddenly, my hands tingle, a need to touch his chest and soothe his heart.
Judd offers me a half smile. His eyes meeting mine only briefly before he notes our proximity. If he leaned forward just the slightest, my breasts would brush against him. My nipples are already erect and tingling. Something unfamiliar but not unpleasant rushes up my middle. If I tipped up on my toes, I could kiss him and?—
“I should probably get the chicken on the grill.” Judd reaches around me, his arm brushing mine. We aren’t finished cutting vegetables, but he rushes for the back door, and I need a minute myself.
Throughout dinner, we eat as if the crackle between us isn’t like a third person seated at the kitchen island. Once we finish, we clean up in silence, washing dishes and putting away leftovers like an established couple.
The moment feels . . . nice.
Eventually, Judd asks, “Want to watch a movie?” Strangely, he sounds nervous.
“Sure. What do you typically watch?”
Judd shrugs, and I’m puzzled.
“Well, when you’ve gone to the movies, what did you pick?”
“I didn’t pick.” Judd quickly glances at me and away, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while we stand in the great room.
“What do you mean you didn’t—” I stop myself, sensing Judd’s discomfort and the possibility that Judd didn’t ever get to decide on a movie. When he had dates. Or when he was with a certain someone.
“Okay. Let’s see.” I hold out his remote, nodding toward the television for him to find the streaming service, and then we scroll through some options.
“I love this one,” I pause on The Adjustment Bureau . A little intrigue. A little romance. A little fantasy. Basically, a movie about free will and fate and the choice to love whomever you wish. “Want to watch it?”
I want Judd to feel he has a choice as he focuses on the preview. “Sure.”
We settle in on the couch that faces the fireplace and television head on, sitting not exactly next to one another, but not necessarily tucked into opposite corners. It’s a relief that I’ve seen this movie before because this anxious electricity is circling around me again due to the closeness of Judd’s body.
To break the tension, I slump to the side and rest my head on a throw pillow, tucking my knees to my chest and my feet in the space between Judd and me.
Judd picks up my ankles and moves my feet to his lap, rubbing his thumb deeply into the bottom of my bare foot. The strength of his thumb. The pressure in the arch of my foot. I flinch.
“Ticklish?” Judd teases.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” There are places I am ticklish. Areas that are sensitive. But I can’t share that with Judd, and I don’t know why I said what I said. My zero filter is zero-filtering.
Still, the snap-crackle-pop exists.
Judd hums in response and I close my eyes a second as the purr in his throat shoots straight to a part of me that wants to feel the vibration of his mouth.
And suddenly, I think I’ve made a grave mistake.
I should be kissing my fake fiancé.
The next morning, I enter the great room and see Judd dressed and moving about his kitchen like he has plans for the day. A bag rests on the floor near the large island. Two travel coffee mugs sit on the surface. Two water bottles rest beside it.
“Are you going out?” Judd hasn’t left my side other than Saturday night for his fight.
He pauses after filling the first mug with coffee. “I was hoping I could take you somewhere today.”
“Really?” I’m surprised and thrilled that he’d like to take me out.
Judd looks up at the crack in my voice. His eyes assess me. Like he can see inside me and wants to. I’d love a better understanding of myself as well.
“How do you take your coffee?” He watches me. “I feel like, as we’re dating, I should know.”
“Oh, black is fine.”
Judd tilts his head. “But is that how you really take it?”
My cheeks heat. “Actually, I love a splash of almond milk and honey but that’s complicated and?—”
Judd turns away from me, miraculously producing both products. “Do it for me once. I want to learn.”
Has any man ever said that to me? He not only wants to learn my coffee order, he wants to learn how to make it himself.
Don’t swoon . I rejected him yesterday. I cannot play wishy-washy. Less than ten days now. That’s all we have.
I step up to the counter and make my morning drink. Judd watches with meticulous attention. When I finish, I take sip to measure my perfection.
“Ah,” I groan, and Judd’s bright eyes dilate.
He clears his throat. “Dress comfortable. Shorts. Gym shoes. Whatever.” Then his gaze roams down my body. “Is that my shirt?”
Busted . I’m wearing his Sylver Seed & Soil tee I found in a basket in his laundry room.
“How much time do I have?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen?” I gape, needing at least twenty to shower and shave all the important bits. Dry my hair. Do my makeup.
Judd sets the coffee carafe back in the machine and glances at me. “You look beautiful.”
“I’m wearing your T-shirt,” I remind him, tugging at the hem that ends just above my knees.
“Like I said. Beautiful.” Judd continues to stare at me, while lifting one of the travel mugs like he’s going to take a sip.
That pause does me in, like he’s contemplating something. Like when he stalled and considered being my friend when I was eight. Only now, he looks like he’s considering things that are very much adult and very inappropriate, and I want to know more.
What do you wish for, Judd?
Pulling up in front of a single-story house I don’t recognize is not where I expected Judd to take us. He was exceptionally quiet on the ride here and he appears nervous as he pops open the driver’s side door and exits his pickup.
I’m about to exit the truck when Judd meets me on the passenger side and holds out his hand.
“The people inside this house are important to me.” He isn’t warning me to behave, he’s simply making a statement. Like meeting his family, I want to make a good impression, for Judd.
He knocks on the fiberglass doorframe on the screen door and a beautiful woman answers. With ebony-colored skin and soulful gray eyes, her smile is wide and exposes a set of perfectly white teeth when she sees Judd.
“Hey Trudy,” Judd greets her. “This is Genie Webster. My fiancée.”
Trudy’s eyes widen as she glances from Judd to me. “Well, my, my, my . Sounds like you have some explaining to do, Judd Sylver.” Her tone is friendly and playful as she reaches out for him and hugs him.
She holds out a hand for me next and covers the top of our hands as we shake. “Trudy Wallace. And it’s a pleasure to meet you girl.”
My mind is reeling, wondering what the connection between this woman and Judd could be, when a boy around nine, ten, eleven—I’m terrible with guesstimating ages—saunters up to Judd and hugs his waist.
“What’s up, little man?” Judd greets him and the two bump fists. “Heard you weren’t feeling well today?”
Trudy chuckles and runs her hand over the thin boy’s dark brown hair that flops over his forehead like Judd’s does. “I think he has a case of summeritis, as in wishing it was here.” She winks at me over the boy’s head. “I told him just this one time.” The warning is clear in her voice. She’s letting him play hooky today only.
“I really appreciate this, Judd,” Trudy states, glancing at him.
“Any time. You know that.”
I have so many questions, but I smile back at Trudy and then glance down at big blue eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses that are watching me. The resemblance to Judd is almost uncanny, and a bit unnerving.
“Simon.” Judd speaks directly to the boy as he squats to his level. “This is my fiancée, Genie.”
“Fiancée?” Simon chokes, eyeing me before staring wide-eyed at Judd. “You getting’ hitched?”
“Someday.” Judd glances at me before looking back at Simon. “I thought she could hang out with us today.”
Simon looks me up and down once more. “What happened to that other lady?”
What other lady? Oh, he means Heather.
Before Judd answers about the other lady , I extend my hand toward Simon. “Nice to meet you, Simon.”
“Remember what we talked about,” Judd questions. “Shaking hands is a polite way to greet others.”
Simon clasps his hand in mine. “Nice to meet you.” He enthusiastically pumps my hand once and offers an extra-large grin. I can’t read kids, so I don’t know if he’s being genuine or sarcastic, but I follow Judd’s lead. This boy is important to him, and I can’t help my next thought. Is he Judd’s son?
We haven’t discussed children. Not as in us having them, but rather, if Judd has any. My heart is racing at either thought.
Judd stands and Simon is patting Judd’s pockets. “You bring me anything?”
“Simon,” Trudy chides.
Judd chuckles while affectionately rubbing his hand over the boy’s head and then gently cupping his chin. “I told you, not every visit comes with a gift.” Judd pats his firm chest. “Today, I’m the present.”
Simon phffts , but his smile says he’s just as happy to see Judd as receive something from him.
“Simon, show Judd your new summer clothes, and then outside with the two of you.” Her voice is kind while direct. She isn’t taking any nonsense from anyone. “Us ladies will step into the kitchen and grab a cool drink.”
Judd runs a hand up my back before kissing my temple and I relax a little bit. Simon takes off for somewhere in the house, but Trudy places her hand on Judd’s arm, halting him from following Simon.
“You still doing that thing.”
Judd side-eyes me and he slowly lowers his head like a chastised child. “Yeah.”
Instantly, I understand that Trudy Wallace knows Judd has been fighting but strangely the topic never came up with his family.
“When you gonna quit?” Her tone is soft with concern.
Judd shrugs, keeping his eyes lowered.
Trudy purses her lips like she has more to say about that thing he’s doing but won’t speak of it in front of me. She releases his arm with a gentle pat, and he heads toward wherever Simon went.
Trudy leads me to a kitchen that is small but bright, with stainless-steel appliances and fresh white cabinets.
“Finally got myself a cozy cottage just for me and now I got Simon.” She chuckles unbegrudgingly as she opens her refrigerator. “Lemonade okay or would you prefer sweet tea?”
“Sweet tea would be great.”
As she busies herself retrieving a pitcher from the fridge and removing glasses from an upper cabinet, I notice pictures of Judd and Simon on a bulletin board near a door that exits to the yard. The collection appears to be recent. Both boys are wearing Chicago Anchor gear in one image. In another, they are inside what looks like a tree fort. Another picture includes a beautiful woman with tan skin and silvery eyes like Trudy. Her and Judd have Simon between them, the camera close to their faces and all three are smiling.
Suddenly, my throat is tight, and I blink a few times, certain I’m missing something. Did Judd love someone else before Heather? Did they have a baby? I stare at the picture of Simon, trying to see a connection between Judd and this beautiful woman.
“That’s my niece. Tallulah Alexander.”
I turn to find Trudy standing close behind me, staring lovingly at the picture.
“They make a beautiful couple,” I say. A beautiful family . Instantly, I’m jealous, when I have no right to be. Judd could have loved someone once upon a time. He should have a lovely partner and adorable offspring. Maybe I’m only hurt that he hasn’t mentioned her or Simon before today.
Trudy chuckles and grimaces. “Judd and Tallulah would never be a couple.” She laughs harder. “He’s too reserved for her over-the-top personality.”
“Oh.” I can’t explain the rush of relief that washes through me. The gratitude that Judd wasn’t with this other woman.
“They’ve made a beautiful child, though,” I continue, certain Simon is theirs.
Trudy laughs loudly, like I’ve told the funniest joke.
“Simon is my grandson of sorts but doesn’t belong to either Tallulah or Judd. I used to foster children. Most of them my own kin. Nieces and nephews. But then I took in a few stranglers.” She smiles with a fond memory. “And Simon belongs to one of them.”
Strange relief that Judd did not love this Tallulah person, nor is he the father of such a sweet looking boy, swims through me. Then I realize, as Judd’s fiancée, I should know these things about him. All his secrets.
“Would have taken in all those Sylvers if that dang fool daddy of theirs hadn’t been against it.” Trudy lowers her voice. “Violet would have been so disappointed.”
Violet is Judd’s mother, and I glance down at the ring on my finger.
“Hmm,” Trudy hums. “He finally gave it up.”
Looking up at her, my brows pinch in confusion.
“That ring was her mama’s. She’d been pleased as punch when Flint proposed. She had big dreams, and that man intended to give her everything. Then the Lord took her away from all of us, and Flint . . .” Trudy shakes her head. “He just lost his head when he lost his heart.”
After what I’d learned last night about Judd’s father, my heart aches all over again for him and his siblings.
“Anyway, Simon belongs to one of my foster kids. Babies having babies.” Her pursed lips show her displeasure at the concept. “And now, I’ve got him. And he’s got me.”
I pause thinking they are one in the same thing, before accepting they are not.
“And Simon has Judd. Judd needed him as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s take our drinks outside. We can chat there.” She offers another smile, and I take the glass of sweet tea she offers me, then follow her into the backyard. The space is vast with a fence around a freshly cut lawn. A large wooden playset stands near one corner and the picture of Judd with Simon in a tree fort makes sense.
“Judd built that thing himself.” Trudy states with pride before taking a sip of her sweet tea.
“Being Judd’s fiancée,” Trudy exaggerates the term, “I suppose you know a thing or two about his daddy. His beautiful mother, Violet, was one of my best friends.” Trudy smiles fondly. “And her man treated her well.”
Trudy shakes her head once, pursing her lips again, and squints toward the yard. “I’ll never make excuses for him. He had seven beautiful children, each a spitting image of his lovely wife. He should have done right by her by loving them.”
She nods, almost like she’s deep in her own thoughts. “But the only person who could save Flint Sylver was Flint.”
I don’t know what to say. Judd’s clearly only given me a sliver of the abuse he endured from his dad and that truth is as weighty as a boulder sitting on my heart.
“Anyway.” Trudy shivers like the body shimmy will clear her mind. “I’ve known Judd since he was in diapers. Timid thing. Tiny thing. Loved his mama hard.” Trudy shakes her head again, and I’m realizing that shake is a thousand unsaid words. “Been hard on all of them growing up without Violet. I know. I raised a handful of kids who’d gone without their mothers.”
“But they had you,” I finally speak knowing how special being a foster parent is.
“And I had them.” She smiles. “There’s healing in love, girl.”
I sit with that thought a second while Trudy adds, “One day Judd will find acceptance in himself and stop fighting his demons. Stop fighting period.” Her gaze lands on me. “And I’m hoping that day is soon with you here.”
I don’t know what to say, but I agree. I don’t want Judd fighting, demons or otherwise.
“Judd is fortunate to have you in his life,” I offer, knowing whatever their shared history, Judd already admitted Trudy is important to him. He loves her without saying the words.
“And I’m fortunate to have him. He helps me out with Simon. The boy needs a man in his life and Judd has stepped in to take that role when he can. When he had that other lady he couldn’t come around as easily.”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
Trudy waves her hand. “Heather wasn’t a fan of children, and she’s a demanding thing.” Trudy scoffs, shaking her head once more with disapproval. Then she smiles warmly at me.
“Let me see the ring again.” She holds out her hand and wiggles her fingers, and I hold out my hand for inspection. “He must really love you, child.”
My head pops up. I want to ask her what makes her say that, but then I remember I’m supposed to be his fiancée and I’m wearing his mother’s ring. The two items in combination should say enough, but it’s only make-believe. And I feel a little queasy lying to this woman who means so much to Judd.
A cold trickle runs down my spine. I can’t make Judd any false promises. I don’t plan to marry. I don’t plan to have children. And the last thing I want to do is hurt Judd, or have Judd hurt me.
I’m almost forty. Even if I did plan to marry Judd, I don’t know that children could be a possibility, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him. The inability to have children would be another reason Judd wouldn’t want to marry me for real.
The thought of children collides with a rumble of emotions I don’t recognize. Visions of Judd with his nephew Dutton the other day flit through my head. Then the tender moment between him and Simon. Judd would be a great dad.
And I don’t want Judd to have children with someone else.
Suddenly, my heart is racing and I’m struggling to find my breath. I reach for my sweet tea as if that will help regulate the hammering in my chest or restore my lungs which feel like they are constricting. I’m such a contradiction, which is another reason it was best I didn’t kiss Judd yesterday. I don’t want to cross fragile lines and complicate things.
We’re pretending .
But then Judd steps out of the house, his smile wide and his too-often sad eyes are filled with love and contentment as he watches Simon, and I realize lines have already been crossed.
Things are getting complicated.
And that’s the reality of pretending.