Chapter 18 #2
“Not bringing the bag of candy with you?” Dennis teased as he pressed his hand on the small of her back. Her top had a tie there that she’d tightened earlier, hoping in vain to look… slim?
Impossible.
This really was not an ordinary date. So why pretend it was?
“Hah! Then I’d have to share,” she shot back, making him laugh, a sound she adored. Serious on the surface, Dennis definitely had a softer side, light and funny. He hid it from the world. Getting him to reveal it to her was an honor.
“We’ll make sure we have dessert. Are you a Hobbit, by any chance?”
“Huh?”
“A Hobbit. We can have second dessert instead of second breakfast.”
“Oh, I’d love to be a Hobbit, then!”
As expected, he was a gentleman in every way, opening the passenger’s side door for her. His truck was a beast, so high that she couldn’t climb up easily. Dennis dropped to one knee and made a step for her foot from his hands.
“Grab the bar on the door.”
“I never knew going for a drive could be so hard,” she joked. “Thanks for the help.”
“I was just looking for an excuse to look up your dress.”
“So much for my gentleman theory!” She looked down at her leggings. “And I’m wearing pants!”
Laughing as he walked around to the driver’s side, Dennis jumped in and started the truck. “We have two options tonight. Indian food or pub fare.”
“Yes.”
“Yes to which one?”
Her pregnant stomach growled. “Just… yes.”
His deep chuckle filled her heart even more.
“I like your direct approach to food. Are you this way when you’re not single-handedly building an entire human being from scratch with your body?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I mean, I like going out. Trying new foods. But pregnancy appetite is nothing like regular appetite.”
“I haven’t been to Love You India since I’ve been home. If we go to Bilbee’s, my cousins will tease me and interrupt us constantly. I know Meera and Davi on just a casual level. We’ve traded hellos and that’s it.”
“And if we go to Bilbee’s…”
“Let’s just say I’m already stuck with the nickname Scoundrel. The chef will probably spell it out in french fries on a plate.”
“Chicken tikka masala it is!”
A grateful smile came from him, his eyes quick to go back to the road.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ana. We don’t need that. I mean, how are you really doing?”
“Are you always this direct?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. You want reality?”
“I asked for it.”
“My underpants are doubling as butt floss right now, I need water, and since you mentioned Indian food, if I don’t have a samosa in front of me in thirty minutes, I might turn into an outraged Auntie Lucinda and slap someone.”
“We can’t have any samosa battery going on, so let’s hurry.” He hit the accelerator.
“What about you?” she asked, enjoying the view. His forearms were bare below the short sleeves, muscles running in parallel waves, corded and tight.
“My underwear fits just fine.”
“Oh, geez. Was that a little too real?”
“I was mostly asking how it’s going, staying with Miss Lucinda, but you gave me your own version of direct.”
“Oh!” She sighed, laughing a bit at the end. “I feel guilty. We came here for Brie’s wedding and I became the center of attention.”
“Oof. That’s my fault.”
“It’s not about casting blame.”
“I didn’t say blame. I said fault. There’s a difference.”
“Most people don’t realize there’s a difference.”
“As you know, I’m not–”
“–most people,” they finished in unison, then fell silent.
Lucinda lived in an old colonial house about three minutes from town, and they reached downtown fairly quickly. Ana was anticipating the big Love You, Maine sign and let out a soft laugh when it came into view.
“Every time I see that sign, I get so excited.”
“You do? Why?”
“Because it reminds me of my father–he always pointed it out to me.”
“Your father?”
“Until he died, we came up here every year. Brie’s parents and my parents were friends.”
“And that’s how you know Lucinda.”
“Yep! Brie and her siblings called her Auntie, and she told me I should as well.”
“You stopped coming when he died? When you were thirteen?”
“My mom and stepfather didn’t continue coming. Brie’s family brought me up once a year, in the summer.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah. Only-child syndrome. Coming here made me feel included.”
“Your mom didn’t just bring you and do the family thing? For continuity?”
“That’s a twisty story. Mom was having an affair with my stepfather.”
“Right. The reason she wasn’t on the plane.” He squeezed her hand as he turned into a small parking lot, finding a spot fairly close to the restaurant.
“Yes. And Hugh and Dad were close.”
“Hugh is Brie’s father?”
“Exactly.”
“That is twisty.”
“Sure is. Nothing like your family, right? Your parents look like they’ve been in love for decades. Like birds chirped and the sun sighed and Cupid shot them both with a chocolate arrow and they found true love instantly.”
“Have you been spying on them since before you were born? Because yes to all of that.”
“Must have been wonderful growing up.”
“How so?”
“My mom and dad were in love when I was little. Dad worked constantly–the trips here were one of the only family vacations. Obviously, their marriage fell apart, but I didn’t know it or see it.” She paused, then added. “And Mom and Rick–they aren’t demonstrative. Dad was.”
He put the truck in park, killed the engine, and turned to her, reaching to touch her cheek with his fingers.
“You’re amazing.”
“I am?”
“So open.”
“You, too.”
He let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Open is the opposite of what I usually am. You, though–you change me.”
“That’s a tiny red flag right there, buddy.”
“It is? Are you wearing your therapist hat now?”
“A little. I don’t change you. You choose to reveal a part of yourself with me. A part that maybe other people don’t deserve to see.”
His head snapped back, hand dropping to hold hers.
“Not so sure about the word deserve.”
“Really? What word would you use?”
“I spent more than two decades rescuing people for a living. Serving my country. Being unable to be open about much of anything. Only my team could know anything about my life.”
“Were you able to talk about your emotions with them? Process experiences?”
“Sure. We were debriefed.”
“Dennis.” Her fingers moved to those deeply grooved, strong arms. “I’m not talking about debriefings. Those are transactional. I’m talking about processing emotion. Or trauma.”
“Sometimes. The army had therapists. We went for the exact number of sessions required. Anything more was viewed as unstable.”
Ana let out a ragged sigh.
“Don’t blame me. I’m just the messenger.”
“I am honored that you’re so open with me.”
“Same here, Butt Floss Lady.” His hand migrated up her thigh, coming to rest on her hip. When she looked down, she couldn’t help but see her enormous belly.
Little Bean added a kick for good measure.
“Can we talk about the elephant in the truck cab?”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s me.” She patted her belly. “I’m the elephant.”
“You are the prettiest pachyderm I’ve ever kissed.”
“You’ve kissed other pachyderms?”
“Only once. At an animal sanctuary.” As his words turned to a hush, he leaned over the console, his lips finding hers for the briefest of brushes before–
BEEEEEEEEP!!
Dennis jolted so hard, he hit the top of his head on the rear-view mirror, letting out a grunt and pivoting quickly to stare at the offender.
It was a woman in what looked like a perfectly maintained 1990s Ford Taurus. A very old woman with bright red hair, the color of a clown’s. The corners of her mouth were turned down and she held her fist out the window.
“DENNIS LUVIEW! HOW COULD YOU?” she screamed.
Dennis gripped the steering wheel, ready to start the truck and peel on out of there.
“Oh, hell. It’s Nadine.”
“Who’s Nadine?”
“Police department admin. Older than dirt. Works with my brother.”
“Your brother, the police officer? The one who looks like a walking red Twizzler?”
Dennis rubbed the top of his head. “Yeah. Luke. He’s actually police chief. And speak of the devil…”
Just behind Nadine, the Pepto-Bismol-colored cruiser pulled in. Ana recognized Luke from the other day, dressed in red with a black belt and shoes.
“That is your brother! I saw him yesterday–you look like him.”
“I’m older. He’s the one who looks like me,” Dennis grumbled.
Nadine was struggling to get out of her car, her arm twisted in her seat belt. The difficulty seemed to fuel her anger, and when she finally extracted herself, it was with Luke’s help.
Dennis climbed out of the truck, leaving Ana to wonder if she should wait for him or just jump down without a parachute. Of course, he walked around, opening her door as Nadine shouted, “Honey? You don’t have to stay with him! What he did to you was criminal!”
Dennis’s face went blank with fury as he reached up and effortlessly lifted her from the cab to the ground. She felt like a pillow he was lifting off a high shelf.
The man was strong.
“Nadine,” Luke began, “Dennis did nothing wrong.”
“He–you heard Lucinda!” She waved a phone in her hand. “I caught it allllllll on tape!” A smug grin turned to a grimace as she sneered at Dennis. “Showed it to everyone in town, too. You can’t get away with this, you scoundrel!”
Luke’s eye twinkled again as he looked at Dennis, then shifted into professional mode.
“You didn’t stay for the rest of that argument on the common yesterday, did you, Nadine?” Luke said calmly, knowing the answer.
“There was no more! I trust Lucinda Armistead more than him!”
“Did she call you last night? Or earlier today?”
“Um.” Nadine’s face wobbled with uncertainty. “She–there was a message left on my recording machine.”
“You mean your voicemail,” Luke followed up.
Nadine waved the smartphone. “Whatever. I can’t understand how to make those messages play on this silly phone!”
Luke shot Dennis a look. “Here. Hand it to me. I’ll help you.”
Doing as told, she gave Luke the phone, but took three steps closer to Dennis, wagging finger at the ready, two feet from his nose.