Chapter 8
chapter eight
Reid
I’m late getting back to the house on Wednesday, my doctor’s appointment running long. I hate getting bloodwork done, not because I’m squeamish about needles or blood, but because every time something gets checked, there’s the possibility of getting bad news. It’s a little pessimistic, considering my otherwise positive views on most things, but I figure it’s okay to have a few areas in life that are less than perfect.
Shoving out of my truck, I drop down onto the dusty drive, slam the door, and walk through the clearing between our two cabins, straight up onto Busy’s deck. There’s no use going into my house, looking for Sydney, stepping out on my deck, and calling her name when I know exactly where she is—where she has been on the handful of days I’ve left her at home over the past few weeks that Busy and Junie have lived in the cabin next door.
Junie’s sweet giggles escape from the open windows, and I stand at the edge of the deck, just listening to the sound.
“You’re a princess,” I hear her say.
“Oh, am I?” Busy replies, her tone teasing. “I thought I was the queen.”
“Granna’s the queen.”
At that, Busy bursts into laughter. “She certainly is, isn’t she?”
I lean back against the wooden siding, knowing I should just head in and get my dog and call it a night, but for whatever reason, I just want to stay here for a minute. Maybe two.
It’s been a few days since our near-kiss, and my hope is that enough time has passed that we can move past it without causing any kind of rift. I truly enjoy my time with Busy and Junie, and I don’t want the fact that I’m attracted to her to fuck up this burgeoning friendship we have developing.
I listen to them playing whatever princess game they’re enjoying for five minutes. Something in my soul feels soothed by it, then just as I tell myself it’s time to head in, I hear a phone chime.
“Hey.”
I’m instantly on alert at the sound of Busy’s voice getting sharp, the muscles in my body going taut as I shift my head, listening for her next words.
“No, Jay. That’s not what we…”
She trails off, but only a few beats pass before she’s talking again.
“What do you mean you’re not going to come?” Her voice drops slightly, becoming hushed. “It’s her birthday . You said you would be here.”
I grit my teeth. I can only assume this is Junie’s dad. The only thing I know about the guy is that he obviously let Busy get away, which was very clearly his first mistake. Now, I’m starting to feel like I might have some inkling of the type of man he is.
“Of course she’ll care,” she continues. “Someday, she’s going to look back on these moments and she’s going to see that her dad wasn’t there.” A pause. “It does matter, and you saying it doesn’t is just your way of trying to make yourself feel less guilty for wanting to drink yourself into a coma on a holiday weekend instead of spending time with your daughter.”
My fists clench.
Yeah. I know exactly who this guy is.
“Okay, so what if I move her birthday party? It doesn’t have to be on the Fourth.”
More silence, and something inside me knows whatever it is the guy is saying, it isn’t what a father should being saying.
“Fine, Jay. Fine. You want to make up excuses? That’s your choice. But your daughter misses you, and that’s a truth you’re going to have to live with.”
A few more beats pass and I don’t hear Busy speak again, so she’s either hung up on the guy or moved into a different room. Quietly, I step down off her deck, giving myself a minute to collect myself before I noisily step back up and cross over to the door, hoping she thinks I’m just arriving.
When I look through the screen, though, I don’t see anyone.
“Knock, knock,” I call out.
Junie comes barreling around the corner wearing a purple gown that’s about three sizes too big, a crown on her head and a wand in her hand, Sydney following dutifully behind her. “Misery!” she shouts, giving me a big smile as I open the door and step inside.
I tilt my head to the side, amused but also wondering where she learned that word.
“Hi, Junie Bee.”
“Mommy’s a princess,” she tells me.
I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly. “She is.” I crouch down and pet Syd’s head, then give a tug to the dress Junie’s wearing on top of her clothes. “Are you a princess, too?”
She twists from side to side then sits on the ground, her hands caressing Sydney’s tummy. “Uh-huh.”
Glancing around, I take in the stack of particle board and box of screws in the corner that I’m assuming is going to become a bookshelf or small table. I’m not completely surprised that Busy doesn’t have a lot of furniture. She did just graduate from college and had to pick up her entire life to move home, after all.
Still, though…I’m sure it would be nice to come home and be able to sit on a couch or turn on a TV. My brain scrambles over the pieces I have in the shop, wondering if I might be able to help out in some way.
“Where’s your mom?” I finally ask Junie when it seems like Busy isn’t going to appear any time soon.
Junie shrugs.
“Will you take care of Sydney for me while I go talk to her?”
She nods her head dramatically then reaches out and wraps her arms around Sydney. “Yeah.”
I grin. “Thanks, kiddo.”
I walk through the house and over to where I assume Busy’s room is, knocking twice on the door jamb as I come to a stop outside.
She looks up at me from where she’s sitting on the floor, her eyes red. It’s like a punch in the gut, seeing that, but I don’t want to bring attention to something if she doesn’t want to talk about it. Busy seems like the type to keep things close to the vest, something I understand.
I glance around, taking in the pieces of metal scattered around her, the mattress and base leaning up against the wall, and the white folded paper she’s reading that looks like directions.
“I was just going to say I’m grabbing Sydney, but…do you want some help?”
She looks back down at her instructions, and for a minute, I assume she’s going to tell me no. I’ve offered to help her several times since she arrived, and she’s always turned me down with a very clear, “I can do it by myself.”
But then she surprises me when she nods. “I bought this thing online and the instructions seem easy enough but, I don’t know, maybe I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Hey, not a problem. Just gimme a second to grab my tools.”
I make quick work of heading outside, grabbing the smaller of my kits from the toolbox that sits in the bed of my truck, and going back in.
Busy snorts when she sees it in my hand. “I don’t think you need that. It’s supposed to all be able to fit together with just this thing.” She holds up an Allen wrench.
“We’ll see.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re still both sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor as I re-read the directions again.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I finally say out loud, not wanting to look like I have no clue what I’m doing, but also not wanting to just sit in silence anymore staring at the worst instructions I’ve ever seen.
Busy sighs and leans back against the wall. “Thank god. I thought it was just me.”
“It’s like they sent only half the parts and the wrong instructions. I would recommend sending this back and just getting something completely different,” I offer, scratching at the back of my head. “There are probably tons of similar bed frames that will be way easier to put together than this.”
She groans and then begins crawling around on her hands and knees, collecting the pieces and shoving them back into the long cardboard box they came in.
“At least I’m off the air mattress,” she says, though part of me thinks she’s actually saying it out loud to herself more than she’s saying anything to me. “Even if it is on the floor for a little longer.”
I studiously look away from where she’s bent over, instead reaching out and grabbing a few pieces myself. Once I pass them over, I push up off the floor, wincing at the way my right knee pinches. That’s new.
“Thanks for trying,” Busy says, standing as well. “I appreciate it.”
“Seriously, any time. I’m normally a lot more competent than this.”
She smirks. “I’ll believe that when I see it. So far you can’t put furniture together or figure out how your dog is sneaking out.”
I chuckle, especially at the furniture jab, and we both walk out to the kitchen, finding Junie using a brush on Sydney, combing her hair gently.
“Here, Sinny,” she says, her voice quiet, almost like she’s telling Sydney a secret. “You’re a princess, too.”
Then she puts her own crown on Sydney’s head, and my heart melts just a bit.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” I say, tugging my attention away from Junie and back to Busy at my side. I slip my hands into my pockets. “But once you get the new bed frame, let me know. I’ll help you get it set up.”
Busy nods. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
We stand there for a few minutes, just watching Junie as she continues swiping a brush through Sydney’s fur, talking quietly to the dog about who knows what. She really is a sweet kid, and I can’t help the frustration that bubbles up at the reminder that she has a dad out there somewhere who doesn’t care enough to visit his daughter for her birthday.
“Hey, listen,” I say, turning to Busy, my mind mulling over the conversation I overheard.
But when she looks my way and I spot the faint hint of redness from her earlier tears, I realize I can’t say anything about what I heard. Who knows if it might make her cry even more, and the last thing I ever want to do is make Busy cry.
I lick my lips, suddenly scrambling for something to say, something to ask.
“I’m heading out on a hike on Saturday morning. You and Junie wanna join me?” I don’t know exactly why I asked, especially when I keep telling myself I need to spend less time with Busy, and this is the exact opposite of that. But I can’t seem to help it.
She gives me a tired smile. “Can I think about it? I might need to work some this weekend because the bookstore is opening next weekend, so I’m not sure how it will all shake out.”
I nod. “Yeah. Just let me know.”
Something occurs to me then.
“And actually, I should probably give you my number. That way you can just text me one way or the other.”
Busy blinks but then pulls her phone out of her back pocket. She unlocks the screen and hands it to me, and I punch in my number. When I pass it back, I see her give me a call and feel my own phone buzz in my pocket.
“And now you have my number, too.”
It’s the simplest thing in the world, but still, I can’t help the spark of excitement I feel at knowing her number is in my phone.
We stand there for another beat or two before I realize I need to head out or else I’m at risk of asking her something stupid, like if she wants to meet me out on the deck for a beer after she puts Junie to sleep for the night.
I clear my throat. “Alright, Sydney. Let’s go.”
Sydney looks up at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, and I laugh at how ridiculously pathetic she looks.
“Let’s go,” I say again, and she finally gets up, walks over to the screen door, and waits patiently.
“I’ll see you later Miss Junie.”
Busy snatches Junie up as she tries to race past us, and she squeals, the sweet sound piercing something inside my chest.
“Say good night to Sydney,” Busy says.
“Night Sinny!” Junie calls out.
“And good night to Mr. Reid.”
“Night Misery!”
We both laugh, and Busy shrugs. “She’s still learning her ‘st’ sound.”
I grin and shake my head. “What a nickname.”
“Have a good night, Misery,” Busy says teasingly.
I shove open the door and motion for Sydney to head out. Once she’s past me, I turn back to Busy and Junie. “See you two later.” Then I head home.
When I pull up in front of Ugly Mug, I spot Sarah immediately, sitting at a table outside, talking on her phone. I can tell just by the way she’s moving her hands, the stern focus on her face, that it’s something related to work. She was always that way about her business. Extremely focused, nose constantly to the grind, something I always admired about her.
Sarah waves as I step out of the cab of my truck, but when Syd jumps down to the asphalt, even behind the fancy sunglasses, I can tell she’s displeased. She holds up a finger, letting me know she’s almost done with her call, and by the time I’ve approached the table, she pulls it away from her ear and presses a button.
“I didn’t realize you were bringing her,” she says, standing to give me a hug. “Now we can’t sit inside.”
I shrug. “The weather’s not too bad this morning. We can sit out here, right? It’s shaded.”
Sarah is easy to read, and I know finding a solution other than taking my dog back to hang out in my office isn’t what she wanted.
“I’ll grab our drinks and be right back,” I say, before I look at Sydney. “Be good for Sarah.”
I turn and head inside, walking right up to the counter to put in our orders—a black coffee and a croissant for me, an iced americano for Sarah.
Almost the first thing I did after we got divorced was get a dog. I had dogs growing up and always wanted one of my own, but Sarah’s allergic, and no amount of discussing allergy meds or air filters or grooming schedules could convince her to get one. I even tried offering to get one of those frou-frou hypoallergenic dogs, but she didn’t budge.
I guess you could say Sydney was my divorce present to myself.
Once I return outside with our drinks, I rip off a piece of my croissant and feed it to Sydney, then take a piece for myself.
“So, how have you been?” I ask, settling into my chair, resting my ankle on my knee and holding my coffee with both hands. “It’s been a few weeks. You went out of town right?”
“I’ve been good. I went with Alton on that work trip to Texas.”
I nod.
Alton. Her new boyfriend.
I have a few feelings about the guy, mostly because I think he’s self-absorbed. But that’s Sarah’s problem, not mine, and I have no plans to turn our friendship—which is already complicated enough—into one where I offer critique about her new choice of partner.
“Have a good time?”
There’s a beat that passes where I wonder if she’s going to say something other than yes. It’s a particular way her mouth opens, like she’s considering her words before she says them.
“We did,” she finally says. “But I’m glad to be back in town and back to work. You know I love my work.”
“That I do.”
Soon before we got married, Sarah got her real estate license. Over the years, she has created quite a reputation for herself as the go-to person if you’re trying to buy in several of the small mountain communities around here, including Cedar Point.
After the divorce, I think she got sort of lost in her work, trying to distract herself from the end of what we had. As much as I might not be a huge fan of the guy she’s dating now, I’m glad she has someone. The last thing I would want is for her to be alone. We might not be together anymore, but I still care about her, still want the best for her.
“So, what’s new with you?” Sarah reaches her hand out and very lightly taps my knee with two fingers. “How are things?”
I know what she’s really asking, but I don’t want to talk about it. I never want to talk about it. So I play dumb.
“I started working on a new custom project for Ellis Darrow, for the new buildout at Dock 7,” I offer. “A dozen leather chairs like the ones I made for Cedar Cider.”
Sarah nods. “I love those chairs.”
Everyone does. They’re gorgeous chairs. I had planned to make two additional ones for us to have in the living room of our apartment, but we ended up getting divorced instead. So I used the remaining wood to create the frame of a dog bed for Sydney.
It wasn’t supposed to sound as vindictive as it does.
“How’s Marie and the kids?”
At that I smile wide. “They’re doing really good. Leo’s picking up all kinds of things right now, so I have to be careful what I say around him.”
She laughs. “I’ve heard that’s a fun time. I’ve been meaning to connect with her recently. I feel like we used to be so close, and now…” She trails off. Now, with the divorce, it feels awkward is probably what the rest of her sentence would have been.
It makes sense. Marie and Sarah became close friends while we were dating and then even more so after we got married. I know the divorce came as a shock to everyone, but particularly my cousin, probably because neither of us ever truly explained it. The two of them have tried to maintain their friendship to some degree, especially because I have explained to Marie over and over again that our decision to break up was mutual and I wasn’t angry about it.
There might be a tiny lie in there somewhere, but Marie doesn’t need to know that.
“Well, I’m sure she’d love to hear from you,” I reply, taking another sip from my coffee.
“And how’s the cabin?”
I snort. “Still perfect.”
Sarah grins at me and shakes her head. “You and your lakefront dreams.”
Shrugging, I set my coffee on the table between us, leaning forward slightly. “Don’t deny it. You’re a little jealous.”
“Not of that little cabin, I’m not,” she says, laughing. “You know I always preferred the shiny new over the old and rustic.”
I nod, still smiling. “Ain’t that the truth.”
When we moved in together after we’d been dating for a year, the only option for Sarah was the apartment complex just off Main Street. She wanted walkable access to town and sparkly new finishes. Having only ever lived in a much older home with wood paneling and a wood-burning stove and super old appliances, the apartments on Main felt like a hospital to me.
I made do. We tried to ‘warm it up’ a bit, as Sarah referred to it, by adding décor to the stark white walls and bringing in a handful of pieces of furniture that previously belonged to my parents. But it always felt plain and bare and boring to me.
The cabin is a much better fit. In many ways.
“Although, if Lois ever decides to sell, make sure you point her my way.” She tilts her head from side to side. “If she doesn’t hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” I insist. “But there’s no way she’s selling. Especially not now that the green cabin is back to being a full-time rental.”
Sarah’s eyebrows rise. “Oh you must be so relieved.” She chuckles, having heard a number of my stories about the antics of my variety of neighbors over the past year.
“Definitely.”
“New neighbors are better?”
I nod. “Much. Busy Mitchell moved in with her daughter about a month ago.”
“Huh.”
I blink, my brow furrowing. “Huh, what?”
Sarah’s smile stretches slyly across her face. “Oh, just…she had a huge crush on you when she was a kid,” she says, laughing quietly to herself.
My head jerks back. “What? No she didn’t.”
Sarah nods, leaning back in her chair. “She did. She used to go into Cohen Custom and hang out because she wanted to bump into you.”
I scoff, feeling like she’s making it up, even if it is flattering. “That can’t be real. How do you even know that?”
“Kelsey’s younger sister was friends with Busy in junior high,” she says, referring to one of her old friends from high school.
Knowing someone you’re attracted to now had a crush on you a decade ago is…an odd feeling, a convolution of emotions. And I’m not too ashamed to admit to myself I’m pleased to hear the rumor, even though I would never admit it to someone else.
“But don’t tell her I said anything about it,” Sarah says, reaching out and placing her hand on mine briefly. “Keep it to yourself, okay?”
I laugh. Like I would ever bring it up to Busy.
“Don’t worry. I plan to repeat this to nobody, ever.”
Except maybe Nick, but I’m even on the fence about that one. Because…what would be the point?
We move on to other topics, touching briefly on my mother’s trip to the Caribbean with Vance and how Sarah’s parents are adjusting to their new life in Oregon, before saying goodbye and promising to catch up again soon. We do this every other month or so, both of us leaning into a friendship instead of cutting off all communication like most people do.
I mean, we care about each other. If life had turned out differently, we would have stayed together. So, maintaining our friendship, especially when we were friends first, before we started dating, felt like a natural choice. An easy choice. A simple one. A way to maintain a slice of normalcy even as we grieved the end of what we were.