27. Teeny
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Teeny
NOW
It’s a beautiful summer day. The kind that’s not stiflingly hot with the beaming sun but more breezy and tolerable with the occasional waft of cool air rolling through to pick up the ninety-degree weather.
In contrast to the weather, my mood might as well be described as a storm cloud. A cumulonimbus floating over me with the threat of a storm, matching the cyclone twisting away at my insides. Everything hurts. My head, my muscles, my heart. It all aches, reminding me that pain doesn’t really go away. As soon as there’s a twinge in a familiar place, like right in the center of my chest, it all comes back like muscle memory.
I’d just texted Sadie to remind her to wear sunscreen when I hear a knock at my door. I trudge off my couch, shuffling around in my sweatpants and loose T-shirt with a tattered image of 98 Degrees on it, Nick Lachey’s flirty smile disappearing into the creases, and answer the door to find Josh on the other side.
“Hey,” he says, taking in my haggard appearance. Bags under my eyes, hair being held together by an overstretched hair tie, a crusty coffee stain on my thigh, right next to the Nike logo, and a smear of peanut butter from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I made for dinner last night. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice hoarse. I turn around and walk to the couch, my feet sliding across the hard floor with the lack of pep in my step. I slump into the cushions and pull the throw blanket I’d been wrapped up in for the last forty-eight hours before peeking at him through the tattered edges. “If you came here to check on me, I’m obviously fine.”
Josh settles into the armchair facing me, slouching forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “Are you?”
My throat tightens, my emotions threatening tears. “Yeah,” I whisper.
“Teeny, I wish you would’ve told me.”
The first tear falls, seeping into the knitted fabric of my blanket. “I didn’t know how.”
“I know,” he says, the kindness in his voice almost too much to bear. “But I wish I would’ve known. I wish I could’ve been there for you. Me and James, we could’ve been there for you together.
“You didn’t just lose Everett. You lost…I mean, I know it was your choice, and given the circumstances, it was probably for the best, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to mourn.”
A sob breaks loose from my chest, and I realize what he’s saying. I didn’t just lose Everett. I lost something that was a part of us. While I didn’t go through with the pregnancy, the idea of this baby that could’ve been was swiped away the second I decided for us. And Josh is right. It was probably for the best, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about the what-ifs.
What if I had gone through with it? With or without Everett. I could’ve possibly been a mother to two beautiful girls. I would’ve had a part of Everett with me for the last twenty years, reminding me that something good came from our love. And what if I called Everett, braced myself for the possibility of yet another rejection with the news that he’d fathered a child? Would he have come back then?
Josh lets me cry, letting me bury my face into the cushions while the tears continue to pour out of me. He moves from his chair to the empty spot next to me, and I shift so I’m wrapped in his arms. As close as we are, we don’t do this. We don’t use physical affection as a way to comfort each other. It’s usually done through cheeky insults or the occasional physical blow, especially between my brothers, but it seems necessary right now. Because he isn’t just comforting his sister, but he’s comforting a woman who’s suffered through a loss and is finally coming to terms with it twenty years later. He’s letting me find the closure I needed after all this time, guiding me to that place so I don’t feel ashamed of my choices.
“Do you still love him?”
I don’t even need him to clarify the “him” he’s talking about. I nod. “But I’m so scared,” I tell him, my words carefully trickling out of me in small drips, too reluctant for them to mean anything. “I want to trust that he’ll never hurt me again, but if I’m wrong, and he hurts me again…Josh, I don’t think I could survive that.”
So what if I love him?
I’m realizing it doesn’t matter whether or not I love him. How far can that love go if I can’t trust him? It almost feels like loving him is the easy part, but deciding if giving us another chance is worth it? That’s the true dilemma.
“That’s completely understandable, Teen. You don’t need to explain yourself,” he tells me calmly, letting me feel all the things I want to feel.
“What if this doesn’t pass?” I ask him, and I realize that’s my biggest fear. Because what if I walk away from this and another twenty years pass only to realize that even with all of the time between us, I still love him? The thought of loving him so deeply and not having him in my life makes the hurt twist and coil inside me.
“Then you take your time. He’s not going anywhere.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Just a hunch.” A watery chuckle rattles through the sad tears, and Josh smiles bleakly at me. “Want to go somewhere? I’m craving some Sprinkles.”
A smile matching his stops the tears. “Sure.”
* * *
I’m sitting in the front seat of Josh’s Jeep, a box of Sprinkles cupcakes resting on my lap. I managed to change into something more presentable, jeans and a top that wasn’t a portal to my late-nineties boy band obsession, and the smell of sweet cupcakes is starting to make my mouth water. The music on the radio is something I don’t quite recognize, and Josh sifts through his playlist as we turn into an unfamiliar neighborhood.
“Where are you going?”
He keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, his throat bobbing with a forced swallow. “I just need to make a stop somewhere.” I lift the lid to the box, peeking inside for the fourth time. “I told you, no eating in my car,” Josh scolds. I catch him glancing over at me, a side-eyed warning attached to his words.
“You know, they have handheld vacuums. Amazon sells them for like, fifty bucks.”
He ignores me, taking a few turns down a winding road, driving deeper into a neighborhood filled with large homes and fancy cars.
“Seriously, where are we going?”
He pulls to a stop in front of a house with a for sale sign on it, a bold “SOLD” stamped across the marker with some real estate agent’s corporate smile and her phone number.
It’s a beautiful home. A wide cobblestone paved driveway with in-ground lights along the edges leads up to a three-car garage and brick siding lining the side of the house. Small palm trees are planted along the curb, and the grandness of the house is near overwhelming with the large pane windows. Leading up to the entrance of the house sits a small set of stairs and a two-door entrance. And Everett.
He’s sitting along the steps with his elbows braced on his knees. He’s wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt, exposing his tan arms. He looks up at Josh’s car at the same time my eyes land on him.
“What is he doing here?” I ask Josh, the two of us still inside the safety of his car.
My reaction is to lock the doors and demand Josh to drive off, or even slouch down so Everett doesn’t see me, but then I see him watching me as he pushes himself off the steps and walks down the long driveway in our direction. Those jeans he’s wearing hug his hips and thighs almost indecently, and all I notice is the way his narrow waist sways seductively, no matter that it isn’t his intention.
His steps are intentional as he reaches the car and waits at the end of the sidewalk. He nervously shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet, and his triceps muscle bulges as he squares his shoulders. I almost roll my eyes at the absurdity of how attractive he looks, even with the confusion and uncertainty swirling in my head.
“He wanted to show you something.”
I look at Josh, unable to comprehend his involvement in this. “You planned this?”
“I just facilitated an opportunity.”
I huff a scoff. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Always yours,” he answers with no hesitation. “But I think it’s worth a shot to hear him out.”
“Don’t. Go. Anywhere,” I instruct him, using the same tone our mom uses when she’s told us something for the third time. “I’m coming back in five minutes.” I stamp the end of my sentence by holding out five fingers between us.
He raises his palms up in my direction. “I’ll be right here.”
I sigh, my breath coming out shaky and nervous, before I open the door. I gently place the box of cupcakes on the seat and throw one last glare at Josh. It’s a mixture of a warning and a death stare so he knows we’ll be talking about this whole behind-my-back setup when I come back, but also so he doesn’t steal one of my cupcakes.
“Hi,” Everett says just as I turn to meet him. His expression looks solemn and pensive, though there’s a softness in the way his eyes aren’t narrowed, and his jaw is relaxed.
“Hi,” I answer, squinting up at him from the blinding sun. I take him in, noticing that he’s trying to read me, and how it makes him look worried and sad. It causes my heart to soften, wondering if he’s okay. I want to ask him, but I know I shouldn’t. “Is this another property you’re renovating? Really digging into those real estate investments there, aren’t ya?”
He smirks, ducking his head toward the ground. “Can I show it to you?”
“Sure.” I sound the complete opposite of sure as I take one last glance back at Josh before turning away. He gives me an encouraging smile, and I follow Everett where he takes a key out of his pocket and unlocks the front door.
It’s even more stunning on the inside. A split-level staircase leads up to the second floor, and the foyer breaks off to a living space with a large open floor plan covered in a clean gray-toned white oak wood flooring. The ceiling has to be at least ten feet high, and hanging over the main dining area is a glittering chandelier that looks like it’s dripping with diamonds. Showcasing the glimmering pool and breathtaking cliffside view, the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the far walls cause a light gasp to climb up my throat.
“Everett,” I whisper. “I—” I press a hand to my chest, imagining Everett in this home. Building a life here, maybe even meeting someone one day and bringing her home and raising a family. “It’s a beautiful home.”
I peer over at Everett as he watches me take everything in with my hands braced along the kitchen counter. The way my eyes go gaga over the kitchen with the farmhouse sink and glossy wood grain finish on the cabinets, and more windows letting in natural light.
A sudden pang twists inside my chest, and it spreads through my entire body. Why am I here? Why did I get out of that car as if I’m ready to face Everett like this? I know I’m not ready to see him or talk to him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. I need to leave.
“Everett—”
“There’s more outside if you want to take a look.”
I turn to face him, and I swallow back the tears making my throat tighten and my breath hitch. I’m ready to tell him no. To tell him that Josh is waiting for me outside. To tell him that I can’t do this. I need to be able to move on. But then I look at him, his eyes urging me in a way that I want to say yes. Because I don’t see the man I don’t know how to trust or the man who came back for me even though he wasn’t sure I’d be here for him.
Instead, I see the boy I fell in love with with my entire heart and soul. That menacingly messy hair that laid rumpled on his pillow and those brown eyes that watched me as I drifted off next to him, surrounded by the warmth of his arms. He promised me the world then. We talked about our future like we’d never not be a part of each other’s lives.
“Sure.” This time I sound less unsure and more placating, hoping that we can at least be in the same room without the reminder of how much hurt we’ve suffered through in our past. Because the thought of letting another twenty years pass without ever seeing him actually hurts more than this. It’s self-destructive, this idea that he can remain a constant in my life while believing I can actually move on, but the latter. The thought of never seeing him again…It suddenly feels calamitous.
He slides open the large glass door leading outside, and he takes a few steps ahead of me to what looks like a small pool house. I step carefully around the edges of the pool, noticing how beautiful it is with the infinity edge. He opens the door to the pool house, holding it out for me to enter first, and when I do, I see that it’s the only place in the entire property that’s furnished.
There’s a small love seat sitting on one far wall, right next to a wide workstation. There’s an easel positioned right next to an entire wall of windows, floor to ceiling, where all the natural light flows in.
“What is this, Everett?” I finally ask.
“It’s your studio.”
“ My studio?”
He nods. “I spent a lot of time wondering where home was,” he starts, and I’m taken aback by the calmness in his voice. The genuine frankness and vulnerability. “I used to let my work dictate where I lived, and it never really bothered me. But then I came back here, and I saw what I’ve been missing.” He takes a step closer to me, gauging my response with heed as he watches me for any signs of protest. When I don’t give any, my curiosity outweighing any doubt or reservations, he continues. “And I realized that this place is the closest thing to home I’ll ever have.
“I’d like to say it’s the weather or the sandy beaches, but…it’s home to me because you’re here.”
My throat tightens, and I feel like giving up. I don’t want to fight this anymore. I don’t want to search for all the reasons I shouldn’t be here, listening to this man while he tells me how he feels about me.
“So, this is where I’m going to be.”
“You bought this for yourself?”
He nods. “I’m not going anywhere this time.” I exhale a shaky sigh, and my chin starts to tremble. “And, this may be a bit presumptuous, but this home is yours too.”
“Mine?”
He nods. “If you’ll have it.”
“Everett, I told you,” I cry. “I can’t…” I start to cry, wiping away at the tears spilling out the corners of my eyes while working on the last bits of my resolve to stand my ground.
But even as I stand on the brand-new wood flooring, I can feel it start to shake. It’s starting to break and crumble, making me want to run into Everett’s arms. And I realize the fear of never getting over Everett is completely valid. It isn’t some irrational thought I’ll look back at one day only to learn I just needed some time to get over the greatest love of my life. I will never move on.
“I know,” he answers, taking a step closer to me. “And I’m not here to badger you into changing your mind. I’m just here. That’s all Teeny.”
It’s then my eyes catch a large, covered canvas. The corners of it peek out through the torn paper it’s wrapped in, and I recognize the colors pop even from the small, exposed inches of the painting. I walk over to it and lift the ripped corner, tearing it back. The loud harsh sound echoes around us, and I feel Everett stand behind me.
“You bought my painting?” I remove the last bits of paper, pull at the twine holding everything together before taking a step back to take it in.
I don’t know why, but it’s more beautiful than when it was hung in the gallery. Where it looked commercial and manufactured on display for sale. Here, it looks like it’s at home. To be enjoyed by the only two people it was meant for. The blues and yellows and purples glow with a warm fluorescence, and that lifeguard tower stands out as a reminder of the Teeny and Everett we used to be.
“I was storing it here for now,” he explains, his warm breath close to my ear. “I thought maybe you’d want to decide where to hang it, so…”
My shoulder blades brush his chest, and I feel my body lean into him. I want so badly to give in. To let my weight fall against him, to let his arms wrap around my stomach while my head tilts to the side and his chin rests on my shoulder. I’m suddenly back in my garage, Everett’s looming presence there to listen to me talk and learn about all the things that I loved. To be engrossed in whatever my hands and fingers were bringing to life.
“I thought it wasn’t for sale.” I turn around to face him, and I see him hanging on to my every word. To my movements, my breathing, the way I’m taking everything in, the way the tears have stopped but my cheeks remain stained.
“I made a pretty good offer.” He thinks to himself before adding a reserved smile and, “Actually a really good offer.”
“Why?”
He lifts his hand to cup my cheek, his movements keen yet somehow apprehensive. Like he’s gauging my reaction as he moves, wondering if the way my shoulders sag or how a sad smile twitches at my lips is a sign that it’s okay for him to touch me. I curve into his hand, letting his warmth sink into my skin. And that feeling that everything feels right returns, making me realize how I don’t ever want there to be a time when he has to think twice about touching me. How it should be second nature for him, like breathing or sleeping.
“Teeny.” His voice is almost mocking, shoving aside every question in my head wondering why he would go to such lengths to buy my painting. “How could I not?”
I reach up to lay my hand over his, turning my cheek so my lips press a soft kiss into the palm of his hand.
“I’m scared,” I tell him, the truth too conflicting for me to keep inside.
“You have every right to be.”
“I’m going to be scared for a really long time,” I continue. “And I might rub it in your face until you become sick of it.”
He nods.
“To the point that you’ll wonder why I even considered giving this another shot. And you’re going to wish you never spent all that money on the painting or this house.”
“Teeny, there will never be a life where I would regret another chance with you.” He pauses to smile softly, a flash of our life scrolling at lightning speed across his glistening eyes. “You’re it for me. And I will wait the rest of my life for you to come back to me.”
My chin trembles. “Don’t break my heart, Everett.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He kisses me, softly and gently, taking his time relearning the ways to kiss me, knowing there’s no time constraint to worry about. We have the rest of our lives.