46. Chloe
forty-six
The rest of the weekend, the restaurant is packed. Between the Locals’ Pass and the news of Samuel and David’s arrest, we’re the center of attention in Emerald Creek.
Luckily, this town takes care of its own, and the way they show support, is to line up at the door and wait for a table.
Corine insists that we take in all walk-ins.
“We don’t need to do this,” I tell her.
“Boss, we do need to do this. For them, for you, and for us. Everyone’s coming together. Let it happen.”
And I get it. We can’t turn away people who came to show support. The staff wants their tips. And they know the restaurant needs the extra money to tide us over while we’re closed, even if it’s only for a week.
I promised them PTOs. This is their way to thank me.
Saturday night I go to bed at two and get up at seven. Corine convinced me to offer brunch on Sunday.
And it’s brilliant. With the church right up the street, we start to fill up at eleven with walk-ins, and then we’re nonstop into the evening.
But all through these days, in the back of my mind, is the nagging feeling that something’s going to turn ugly. That, as hard as I try, I’ll lose what I want so much.
There’s too much stacked against me.
Saturday night we sleep at Justin’s.
Sunday, we stay at the cottage. “This way, you can sleep in tomorrow,” Justin says.
Tomorrow’s demo day at the restaurant. I’m definitely not needed. It’s actually best if I stay out of Thalia’s and Lucas’s hair.
With no work to immediately tend to tomorrow, my thoughts start twirling again in my mind. Staring at the ceiling while Justin sleeps heavily next to me, I try to make sense of these thoughts. I try to analyze what’s rational and what’s fear-based. Who am I really to Justin? Who will I be in one year, in five years?
Can I be who he needs?
Can he be who I need?
And I fail at finding answers.
Anguish settles in the pit of my stomach. I know it’s my insecurities, and they have nothing to do with Justin, and everything to do with me.
Tomorrow, in the light of day, I’ll see everything differently.
I know one thing. I can trust Justin.
And that’s all I really need. I spoon against him and let his warmth finally lull me to a restless sleep.
His kiss on my bare shoulder is what wakes me up from my short and agitated night. I turn slowly, the cobwebs of my insecurities pinning me to the night. Forcing myself to open my eyes, I say his name softly, hoping for an embrace, the feeling of his arms around me, the reassurance that he’s real.
But all I get is the front door shutting, then his truck roaring as he peels from my driveway.
I blink. Light is pouring into the bedroom. I overslept. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I’m jolted awake by the time on my phone and a cup of coffee on my nightstand.
And I know what I was doing. I know why I was giving into my staff’s insistence that we take more work.
I was trying to chase away the sense of doom. But now there’s nothing else for me to focus on.
I still need to stop these thoughts.
I take a sip of coffee. Coffee at home without Justin is just plain sad. And I don’t need sad right now. Feeling slightly guilty, I pour the coffee he made me down the drain. I go to the bathroom, pull on a light summer dress, my sandals, and decide to walk to Easy Monday, using the cut through the woods that continues alongside the river.
I plug my earphones in and call Fiona. I wish I could video with her, to show her the beautiful countryside, and maybe make her think over not ever wanting to come back here. But there’s not enough network coverage, so we have to stick to audio.
I need to update her on the fact that I’m buying the restaurant, but more importantly, on the new family developments. Only she can fully understand me about this, and boy do I need to offload on someone right now.
“How do you feel about it?” she asks when I’m done giving her the bare facts.
I take a deep breath, focusing my gaze on the meadow on the other side of the woods, buzzing with insects. “How is it that the people I love most can just lie to me? I mean, I can maybe get that Mom and Dad never shared that story before, but knowing I was taking over Uncle Kevin’s restaurant? Knowing I was going to be right next to Justin? You’d think they’d give me a heads up. What’s up with that?” Anger mixes with disappointment.
“You feel taken for granted,” Fiona says.
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever happens, people think you’ll be cool about it. That you’ll accept it.”
Yeah, that sounds about right. “That stinks. Why are they like that?”
“Because you let them?”
“I don’t let them!”
“Clo, when was the last time you called them out on their shit?” She stays silent for a beat, then, “Lemme guess, last night, you just sat there, listened, nodded, and said—what? What did you tell Dad?”
What did I tell him? Nothing that I can remember. “I—what was I supposed to say?!” She’s getting on my nerves because she is so right. I am taken for granted, and it’s all my fault.
“It’s alright, Clo, it’s who you are. You have to understand that about yourself. You’re a good person, and people are going to take advantage.”
“But—but these are people I love! People who are closest to me.” Tucker’s astonished reaction when I confronted him about cheating crosses my mind, and then stays there. He, too, took me for granted. He thought I should be cool about it. Cool about it!
Am I really bringing this upon myself?
“You’ll be okay, sis. The good ones always win in the end,” Fiona says as a matter of goodbye. “But it doesn’t hurt to fight the bad people, once in a while.”
Fighting the bad people? I don’t know about that.
Besides, there are no bad people in my life.
I hang up, confused and slightly disappointed from my call with Fiona. I don’t feel better. If anything, I feel worse.
Easy Monday has outdoor seating next to the river, and after I pick up my obligatory Road to Heaven from Millie at the counter (“You look like you need a Back From Hell, but you’re the boss”, she said), I sit at a table hidden behind a large hydrangea in full bloom. Stretching my legs in front of me, taking a deep breath, I force myself to be in the moment. Nothing else exists other than the sunrays warming my skin, the river flowing peacefully below me, the hum of the bees feasting on the light pink, oversize flowers right behind me.
This moment is perfect.
“I’ve talked him into going to Lamaze with me.” The grating voice shrills through the morning, zinging through my system like an electric shock.
Gisele.Gisele is sitting within earshot, talking to someone on the phone, oblivious to my presence right behind the hedge of flowers.
Lamaze?That’s prenatal exercises, right? Isn’t that for couples to attend together? Is she talking about Justin? Is he going to hold her, accompany her breathing exercises?
Does that mean he’s preparing to be in the delivery room with her?
That would make sense, right?
Does that mean he’ll whisper sweet little nothings to her when the time comes to deliver the baby? Hold her hand?
Oh god, god!
Of course he will. He’s that kind of person.
“We’re working on becoming a family,” Gisele says and my heart stutters, my body goes cold. “We’re going to couple’s therapy… He’s changed, since I’m back in his life, and… our child has matured him. I know he’ll be a wonderful father. Very present.”
My heart hammers in my rib cage, my breathing constricts, and the table looks like it’s twirling below me. I lower my head between my knees, trying to get some air in, trying to shut off the outside world.
Couples’ therapy?
Justin did mention going to see a therapist. I didn’t ask questions. Maybe I should have. Maybe I’m not seeing what’s right in front of me.
What else does a perfect dad do? My mind goes down a deadly path, filling with images that torture me. Justin sleeping on a cot in Gisele’s apartment so he can help with night feedings.
I mean, why not? She doesn’t have the support of her own family. So, who else? Justin won’t let her deal with this alone. He’s not that kind of person.
And who will change the baby after the feeding?
Oh god. I can just see it. Her breastfeeding, him plucking the child from her carmine nipples as she lulls back to sleep, changing the baby so she can get some rest.
Her arousal at the sight of Justin’s bare chest, all muscles and tats, taking care of their child. What woman wouldn’t want him?
His gaze trailing on her offered breasts. What man could be insensitive to that?
One thing will lead to another…
I mean, of course. What was I thinking?
We were supposed to be a one-night stand anyway. Life threw us back together, and okay, we have great chemistry, but between me and the mother of his child? I don’t stand a chance. The man used to have a different woman in his bed every… what? Week? Day? Who knows?
If he’s going to commit to someone, it’ll be the mother of his child, not little old me.
I don’t want to fight.
It’s just not who I am.
I don’t want to be the nagging girlfriend. So what if he goes to Lamaze and couples’—couples!!—therapy. Isn’t that his right?
I’ve been so stupid.
Again.
Tears blurring my vision, I leave my coffee on the table and run back home, not caring who sees me or what state I’m in. I didn’t think my legs could carry me, but somehow I find myself at the cottage, clearheaded enough to shoot a quick email to Aunt Dawn and Scott Johnson about “something coming up” and the close on the restaurant needing to be “rescheduled.”
No date, nothing.
I need to clear my head before making more decisions. Before I box myself into a situation I won’t be able to get out of.
I shut my phone off, get in the car, and drive aimlessly the rest of the day, thinking.