CHAPTER SIX

James

“So, what looks good?” I ask, hoping to break a little bit of the tension. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable around me. I was honest with her when I said I was willing to be just friends. Even though I definitely wanted her to consider more, I just want the chance to get to know her. To figure out why she has invaded my every waking and sleeping thought since the moment I met her.

“Pizza. Definitely. That okay with you, Mom?”

“Hmmm?”

“Pizza. Sound good? Or do you want pasta?”

Carly smiles at her son. “No, bud. Pizza is good. It smells incredible in here, right?”

“It does.”

She turns her eyes to me and I shift in my seat, wondering if she felt me staring at her. She’s so beautiful I can’t help not to. “How did you know about this place? I’ve never heard of it before, and we’ve lived here for a few years now.”

“The owner, Stephan, called me to help salvage this place. It was in bad shape when I first visited. That was two years ago.”

“But, still no one knows about it?” Jack asks.

“Well, it’s still building, but it’s become really popular. Just not local. Which is different. Usually the locals are who flood the doors of small restaurants like this, knowing about them, but in this case, it seems that he’s attracted people from the city,” I tell them, motioning to the full restaurant.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Carly says, finally starting to seem more relaxed.

“It is.”

“You must be good at what you do.” Jack’s eyes take everything in before they land back on me. “Look at this place. It’s incredible.”

I shrug. His praise humbles me, even though he’s not the only one who tells me. “Nah, I just give them the tools. It’s up to the owners to do the hard work.”

“But still. How did you get into it?”

I lean forward, my forearms resting on the table. Jack does the same while Carly sits back in her chair, hands folded on her lap. “Well, my dream was always to own my own restaurant. I thought I was on my way to that, but my ex-wife had other plans. When my daughter, Lily, was just three years old, Nicole left a note. The only time I’ve heard from her since was when I received divorce papers through certified mail.”

“So, she just… left? You and your daughter?” Carly asks, straightening in her seat.

“Yup. It’s just been me and my Lily Bug for almost twenty years now.”

“Why couldn’t you open a restaurant then?” Jack asks.

“It takes a lot of time to own your own place, bud. Time I didn’t want to take away from raising her. I only chose restaurants to help makeover that were either close enough that I could visit them during the day or bring her with me in the evening. And if they were too far away, I made sure to visit only when I wouldn’t have to leave her or pull her out of school.” Putting my own dreams on the side burner never bothered me. I would have given up anything for Lily.

“Wow. That’s kind of incredible,” Carly says.

“What do you mean?”

“Not many men are willing to give up everything for their… well, for anything,” she says as a shadow seems to cross over her face.

“I don’t know about that. Good men are willing to set aside their selfish ambitions if it means their loved ones are happy. At least, that’s how I was raised.”

She narrows her eyes at whatever she’s staring at in the distance and rolls her lips together. “I suppose that’s true,” she replies, her voice soft.

“It is,” Jack says to her. “It’s very true, Mom.”

The look that passes between the two of them tells me that whatever happened in her past had everything to do with her ex-husband. I just hope it isn’t something that is so damaging that she can never recover from it.

Our waiter appears to take our order, but we’ve been so busy chatting that we haven’t even discussed what kind of pizza to order. Since I am possibly the least picky eater on the planet, I ask Jack to do it for us, reassured that he will know what his mom likes. Plus, I really want to see what his tastes lean to. Was he a typical sixteen-year-old boy who would order something simple like pepperoni? Or did he have more unique tastes?

When he adds roasted red peppers to the toppings, I know that he has a more distinctive sense of taste than a typical sixteen-year-old, but still isn’t too adventurous. Yet. I have a feeling he’s willing to explore, and I hope that I can be the one to teach him. It isn’t every day that I come across a kid his age who is interested in culinary arts.

After placing our order, we settle in to easy conversation.

I learn that Carly is an only child, and that her father died before she was born; she doesn’t have much of a relationship with her mother. I steer clear of asking any questions about Jack’s dad, sensing that it was a topic neither of them want to wander into. Jack reveals it was his request that Carly start boxing, so that she knows self-defense. That way, when he is gone at college, and he isn’t here to protect her, she will feel safe. Hearing this tells me more than I think either of them realize, but, again, it was clear neither of them want to delve more deeply into the real reasons why.

“So, Jack, what made you decide you wanted to become a chef?”

He looks at his mom briefly. “I’m not really sure, I guess. After Mom and I moved to Liberty, we started cooking a lot of meals together. Before, I wasn’t allowed…” he shifts in his seat and clears his throat when he notices Carly stiffen, “I mean, I didn’t cook very much where we used to live. It just didn’t work out. But here? I don’t know how to explain it. I love coming up with recipes and using ingredients that are new to me. It just… when I’m cooking I feel free and it’s the only place where I don’t have to think.”

“Then I’m glad you discovered it. Never let go of it. Even if you don’t run a restaurant or become a chef one day, you’ll always need that skill. It sounds like your mom was smart by encouraging you to learn.”

“She’s pretty great.” He smiles at her and I look over just in time to see her blush before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“What are you planning to rename Tony’s?” Carly asks and knowing that she’s invested enough in the conversation to ask questions of her own makes my heart speed up a little.

“Balance. I’m mixing in the recipes I grew up with and the foods I’ve come to love as I have gotten older.”

“I love it!” they both exclaim together. It’s weird but knowing they approve, and that they’re both curious about this part of my life – creates a sense of pride inside of me I didn’t know was there.

Once the food comes, conversation slows down, allowing us to enjoy the meal Jack ordered for us, and when we’re finished, Stephan himself delivers a trio of desserts to our table. There’s a sense of intimacy in the three of us sharing a meal. The entire evening has been so much more than I expected when I walked into Tate’s gym a few hours ago, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Our waitress lays our bill on the table and I snatch it up quickly.

“James, you don’t have to do that,” Carly objects.

“Sure I do. Friends pay for each other’s meals sometimes, right?”

“I’m getting it next time.” At her words her eyes widen and cheeks flush. I wink but don’t respond with words.

We walk outside to the darkening sky, and even though I don’t want the night to end, I know I had pushed it enough for one day.

“Thank you for letting me tag along with y’all today,” I tell them.

“Y’all, huh? You suddenly from the south?”

I smile, feeling happy that Carly is able to make a light-hearted comment. Over the course of the night she’s relaxed exponentially.

“Nah, but my father is. He’s a Southern transplant living with the Yankees.”

“Ah, so you’ve picked up a little of the lingo along the way, huh?”

“That’s right. And sometimes, when I’ve been around him for a while, I even take on the accent.”

“Gotta love a guy with an accent.” As soon as the words escape her lips, she covers her mouth in embarrassment.

I could have let it go, but it was the first time she said something even remotely flirty in front of me.

“You dig the Southern accent, huh?” I say in my best twang I’ve got in my arsenal.

She looks away and bites the corner of her mouth. I want to reach up with my thumb and pull it away but yeah, boundaries, friend-zone, and all that.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go wait in the truck,” Jack says looking between us.

“Alright, kiddo. Right behind you.”

“Take your time, Mom. See ya later, James. Thanks for supper and stuff.”

I don’t know what and stuff is, but I tell him he’s welcome anyway.

“Hey, Jack!” I call out before he can walk away. “Barrett, you know, Maggie’s dad?” I ask, teasing him a little.

He chortles, “Yeah, I know the guy.”

“He and I will start working on the old diner this week. You should stop by.”

His eyes light up and he grins. “Really?”

“Sure, why not? Maybe you can even have a turn with the sledge hammer.”

“Cool,” he says with an awkward thumbs up. “Thanks, man. Have a good one.” He gives me a low wave as he walks back toward his pickup and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“So.” I turn fully to Carly, hoping to catch her eyes.

“So?”

“At the football game, I was actually going to ask you two questions, but I punked out on both accounts.”

“Oh yeah?” She looks up at me from under her lashes, those giant chocolate brown eyes sucking me in.

“Yup. I was going to ask for your number,” I put my hand up to stop her when it looks like she’s going to interrupt me. “Friends, right?”

“Just friends?” Her voice is full of trepidation.

“I promise. I won’t push. I won’t pressure. But, Carly, I had a lot of fun this afternoon.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes going soft. She looks at me, really looks at me, and it feels like she is trying to see what is hidden below. If I am pretending to be someone I’m not. Whatever she sees must make her realize I’m being real because she reaches out a hand, palm up, asking for my phone. I place it in her hand, my fingertips grazing hers very purposefully. Her eyes that were focused on our hands shoot up to my eyes. I may have promised just friends, but that doesn’t turn off my attraction to her.

Nor does it change the fact that my end goal is becoming more than friends, no matter how long it takes.

She quickly pulls the phone close and programs her number into it. As soon as she hands it back to me, I open the camera app and snap a picture of her before she can protest.

“Hey! I look like crap!” I notice she isn’t fighting me taking the picture, just that she’s afraid she looks bad.

One side of my mouth turns up. “Beautiful, remember?”

She bites that lip again and murmurs a thank you. She looks over at Jack waiting in the pickup and throws an arm in his direction.

“I’d better go.”

“Okay.” I nod

She hesitates, not moving a single inch from her spot, which only makes my heart soar, knowing that she doesn’t want to leave either.

“Jack’s waiting.”

“He is,” I agree, not hiding the now enormous grin on my face.

“Yeah.” She’s staring at me, and her voice is light and airy.

“Want me to walk you over there?” I ask.

She shakes her head fast and jerks back in response. “What? No! I mean. Ugh. I’m sorry.” And even though I can tell it bothers her, I love that I can make her fumble with her words.

Her entire body deflates as if she’s embarrassed, her head dropping down.

“Carly. Don’t be sorry. I get it, okay?”

“I’m going now, before I can act like even more of a doofus.”

I bark out a laugh. “Doofus, huh? I haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t think of a better word to describe myself at this moment.”

“Oh, I can think of a few.” I wink at her.

She smiles at me. “Bye, James.”

“Not goodbye.”

“See you later?”

“Better. I’ll see you soon, Carly.”

 

 

“Did you find a gym?”

“Oh yeah,” I reply with a note in my voice that hopefully lets Barrett know there’s more to the story. We’re chopping wood in his back yard for his fireplace, and he places a newly cut log on the pile behind the house.

“That sounds interesting.”

“Carly was there.”

He pauses in lifting a large log and looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. “Carly, as in Harper’s teacher Carly?”

I nod my head and reach for the log to place on the wood splitter that he apparently has already forgotten. “The one and only.”

“Oh boy.”

“Oh boy what?”

“Tess is gonna have a field day with this one.” He snickers and shakes his head.

“Tess doesn’t need to know,” I tell him with my eyebrows raised.

“Ha! Right.” He laughs again. When I don’t respond, he does a double-take and looks at me. “Shit. You’re serious? No. Nuh-uh. No way. I don’t keep things from Tess. Besides. I’m a terrible, terrible secret keeper. Everyone knows this. I’m the guy people tell a secret to hoping that I’ll spread the word.”

I bust out laughing because it’s so true. I can’t believe he was able to keep the whole re-proposing thing from Tess until he actually did it. “Alright, well, I’ll amend that. Let’s just not make a big deal of it. I don’t really think Carly is interested in dating, anyway.”

“Captain James Cole? Surely not!” He gasps. “She was what Tess and Lauren say, swooning all over you before the football game. Hotty McHotPants, remember?” He waggles his eyebrows.

I bite back a laugh. Tess and Lauren have been friends since they were kids but even more, she’s married to Barrett’s business partner, Josh. They’re rarely apart.

“You’re such a jerk.” I roll my eyes. “And, be that as it may, she definitely isn’t interested.”

“She’s interested. I saw the way you two looked at each other at the game. The entire game.”

“Did you also happen to see her bolt from me when I was walking her to her car?”

“Oh, that was classic. Maverick crashed and burned,” Barrett says using his hand to simulate as he picks up another piece of wood.

“I thought I was Captain?” I brush some sawdust off my flannel shirt and move the newly split piece to the neatly stacked pile of wood.

“Ah, potato po-tah-to,” he says turning his head side to side.

“You are so weird. Besides, when I saw her at the gym, she basically told me I was in the friend-zone,” I argue.

Barrett winces like he actually has a clue how that feels. He fell in love with his high school sweetheart. He never really experienced being friend-zoned or major heartbreak, for that matter. “Ouch.”

“Word.” I nod my head a few times seriously.

“What are you, living in the nineties?” he asks, laughing.

“Well, I didn’t say word to your mutha.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “May as well have.”

“Whatever. What were even talking about?”

“Carly. Gym. Are you seriously getting so old that you can’t remember back five minutes?”

“This is what talking to you does to a person! I don’t even remember what day it is!”

“It’s Saturday,” Barrett adds helpfully, picking up another log and placing it on the wood splitter. The wood splinters in two pieces, and sawdust flutters to the ground, lightly covering our dark brown work boots.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So… the gym? You sure you don’t want to just workout here? With Grady?” Barrett motions toward the outdoor arena Grady and he built together.

“No thanks.”

“What’s the matter? Think he’ll kick your ass?” He runs the thick log through the splitter.

“I don’t think so. I know so. That thing is a torture chamber.” I pick up the two split pieces and reposition one to run through the knife.

“Right?” He grins. “I don’t see how he does it every day.” He tosses the split pieces aside while I put the other half back on the tray.

“He’s eighteen.” I give him a perfectly logical answer.

“Word.”

I bust out laughing. Barrett is such a dork.

We keep working on the pile of wood in relative silence, stacking up the wood as we go.

“Anyway, yeah, I found a gym. Tate’s? It has a boxing ring, does some MMA-type stuff, too.”

He nods his head. “Yeah, I know the place. Tate’s a good guy. We actually did some work for him when he remodeled his house.”

“Yeah? He a good guy?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Seems like it. I don’t know. Didn’t really have many in-depth conversations with him. He did come over one day to check out what Grady designed and built, to make sure it was safe and all that.”

“That’s cool,” I say distractedly. I look away from his questioning eyes. “He’s married, right? Has a couple kids?” I briefly look back toward him but regret it immediately.

Barrett gives me a funny look as he finishes the last of the wood. He shuts down the wood splitter then leans against it, folding his arms across his chest and crossing his ankles.

“Why do you wanna know?” He smirks.

I look away from his all-knowing eyes and shrug my shoulders. “No reason. Just didn’t want to be giving my money to some roided-up asshole who’s on a testosterone power trip.”

“Uh, yeah. Not really sure what that means.”

“Is he a gym-rat asshole, or is he a good guy?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that maybe Tate is working with Carly?”

“Who? Huh? Not sure.” I keep my eyes focused on the woodpile. What is it about talking and thinking about Carly that makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old? Hell, not even a sixteen-year-old because Jack is more mature about all of this than I am!

“Dude.”

I hang my head with my hands on my hips. “I know.”

“Du-u-ude.”

“I said I know! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me!” I yank the cap off the top of my head and hit my leg with it before placing it back on.

“You got it bad, huh?”

I nod my head. “I think I do. Which is frickin’ dumb. I’ve known her like… what… a day? But there’s just something about her. It’s more than her looks. I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful if I’m being honest, but it’s so much more than that with her.”

My mind drifts back to last night when I went for pizza with Carly and Jack. We spent three hours in that tiny Italian restaurant.

Now the place looks like it walked off a movie set, but when I found it almost two years ago, it was a disaster. The menu was decent enough but, much like Tony’s, the ambiance left a lot to be desired. He wanted something that screamed “my mob family owns this joint” and what it said back then was “the gang busted all up in here.” He wanted authentic, or at least what Americans view as authentic. So, he put a lot of thought and work into making it a cozy place.

And cozy it was. Last night, the red-and-white-checkered tablecloths covered all the tables, with single white votive candles in a glass jar flickering in the center. Italian instrumental music softly piped through the speakers while the waiters and waitresses bustled around the small establishment.

When we sat down, Carly seemed nervous, fidgety. She kept looking around the restaurant and pulling the sleeves down on her bright green top, even though it was long enough that her thumbs could fit through the little thumb holes. She thought she looked gross and sweaty, and said so a couple times, but I thought she looked beautiful, even though she was clearly uneasy.

When I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about our evening together. I could tell something major had happened in her life, something that changed her. Something that changed Jack, too. Boys are protective of their mothers, but Jack? It is more than that for him. He looks at her like he would do anything to shield her from hurt.

“Did you hear me?” The sound of Barrett’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts and into the present.

“What?”

“Man, you really do have it bad already. You totally zoned out just now.”

“Sorry.” I shake my head, though I’m not sorry at all. “What was it you were saying?”

He luckily lets it go and moves on. “I can’t really say that I know her that well. She’s Harper’s teacher, but it’s not like I go there and hang out. I know she and Christine are pretty close, though.”

“Yeah, I figured as such when I saw them sitting together at the game a few weeks ago.”

“Ohhhh, that’s what the look was for.”

“Look?”

“The look. Yeah. When you found out that Christine was going to be here for Thanksgiving. You were hoping to get the deets on Carly.”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“Well, yeah. The words come out of my mouth, and I sound different in my own head than out loud. But, of course I hear myself.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s not… Never mind. But deets? Really?”

He shrugs his shoulders and grins, unashamed.

“Anyway, I think they’ve been good for each other, both being single moms to teenagers, you know?”

“I bet.”

“And I was thinking… since you didn’t bring it up at Thanksgiving, go to the coffee shop and talk to Christine about her?” he hedges.

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not about to go around snooping and gossiping about Carly. I want to get to know her. From her. Not from someone she’s confided in. Not cool, man. This isn’t high school,” I tease him.

“That’s how we did it in my day.” He laughs.

“We didn’t all fall ass-over-elbow in love when we were seventeen, either.”

“True. Not everyone can be as awesome as us,” he said with a straight face.

“You’re such a tool.”

“But you kinda love me.”

“Whatever, weirdo.”

“So, what was the look, then?”

“Nothing. I wanted to talk to her about the restaurant. Since it’s next door to Dreamin’ Beans.”

“Makes sense. Let’s finish up this wood-chopping so we can go inside.”

“I think Tess has soup in the Crock-Pot for us.”

“What kind?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not even a little bit.” I smile.

Ten minutes later, we walk inside covered in sawdust, arms full of wood. We drop the sticks in the metal firewood rack and make our way into the kitchen where Tess is grabbing some soup bowls from the cupboard.

Barrett walks up to her and nuzzles into her neck and gives her a kiss below her ear. “Hey, babe.”

I smile at their easy love. They’ve had their bumps in the road, sure, but who doesn’t. And they’ve always made their way back to who they are, together.

“Hey, there. Get it all cut?”

“Yup. Your man lumberjacked all over it.”

She giggles at him and lifts up on her toes and places a kiss on his lips, her hand resting the side of his face. “Thanks, stud.”

He smiles cheekily at me, and I roll my eyes in return.

“Where is everyone?” It’s never quiet in the Ryan’s home. Never.

“Lily and Harper are still shopping. Maggie went with Grady and Bri to a movie. I have a feeling that Jack is going to just so happen to be seeing the same movie.”

I laugh.

Barrett growls.

“Cole is over at Brandon’s with Mia.”

“So… it’s just the three of us?” I ask, suddenly feeling like the third wheel.

“Yup, thanks for hanging out, dude. We wouldn’t know what to do with our alone time,” Barrett teased.

“Yeah, I’m taking this downstairs. You guys enjoy your quiet while you can,” I say to them, grabbing my food and making my way to the basement.

“I was just joking, man. You know that.”

“I do. I also don’t want to have to bleach my eyes later tonight. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“We won’t!” Barrett hollers, and I hear a smack, and Tess squeals his name.

“Gross!” I holler back.

His cackling follows me all the way down the stairs.

I settle in on the couch and turn on Netflix. As much as the crazy, shameless shenanigans of the Gallaghers are keeping my attention, my mind keeps drifting over to Carly. I press pause on the episode and pick up my phone. Knowing, or assuming, that she is home alone tonight, I take a chance and settle on sending her a friendly text, when what I really want to do is rush over to her house and take her in my arms, bend her over backward and kiss the crap out of her. But that’s a little too friendly, now, isn’t it?

 

Me: Hey there.

 

That seems innocent enough, right?

I watch with bated breath as those three little bubbles pop up then disappear, only to repeat the action a few more times.

Finally, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

 

Carly: Hey.

 

I chuckle that it took her that long to return the one simple word to me. I also quickly change the simple name of Carly that she had put in before I return the text.

 

Me: What you up to?

Beautiful: Relaxing, watching some TV.

Me: Oh yeah? Me too. What are you watching?

Beautiful: It’s embarrassing.

Me: Why? Is it dirrrrttty?

 

I type, hoping that she’ll catch on to my teasing. I follow with a couple winky-face emojis.

 

Beautiful: Not really but…

Me: But? Just tell me. I’ll tell you what I’m watching if you tell me.

Beautiful: What are we, five?

Me: That’s beta rice.

Beautiful: ???? ha ha what!?

Me: Beta rice? WTH! I swear Tess’s autocorrects are like a virus. I meant negative! That’s a negative that we’re five.

Beautiful: How in the world did it turn negative into beta rice?

Me: I have no clue. So… whatcha watchin’?

Beautiful: Ugh. Don’t judge me, okay?

Me: Never.

Beautiful: Shameless. **insert monkey covering eyes emoji**

 

There’s no way she’s watching this show. What are the odds?

 

Me: No way.

Beautiful: You said you wouldn’t judge me!

Me: I’m not! I promise! That’s what I’m watching, too!

Beautiful: Nuh-uh.

Me: Oh yeah. The Gallaghers have sucked me into their crazy world and I can’t seem to stop.

Beautiful: Right? It’s like a bad car wreck! I can’t look away!

Me: Exactly!

 

I sit and watch a drunken Frank do something to screw over his family once again, only to say something that makes me burst out laughing.

 

Me: So what episode are you on?

Beautiful: I’m in season 4, episode 2.

Me: Oooh you’re just a few behind me.

Beautiful: No spoilers!

 

I smirk at how serious she is. This show is so addicting it’s ridiculous. For about two seconds, I consider my next words then decide to hell with it and go for it.

 

Me: I wouldn’t dream of it. But you know…

Beautiful: I know what?

Me: If two friends wanted to watch it together, we wouldn’t have to worry about giving each other spoilers.

Beautiful: And we’d have someone to chat about it with. Clearly I can’t watch this with Jack.

Me: That’s a beta rice. ;)

Beautiful: Ha ha ha ha! Oh my gosh! LOL

 

I smile just picturing how she giggles. I’ve already learned she has several different laughs: one when she’s embarrassed (which I hear quite often); one when she’s nervous (which she also does a lot around me); one when she’s happy, one when she thinks something is funny. Her happy laugh? That’s my favorite. It’s when she has let her guard down completely, like she started to do last night. She throws her head back and her deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners.

My knee bobs up and down several times, wondering what she’s thinking. She did follow up with her own benefit to watching it together, but it may be her making small talk, I suppose.

After a few minutes of waiting and no other response, I decide to bite the bullet.

 

Me: So, what do you say? Want to watch Shameless together?

Beautiful: I don’t know

 

I like that, an honest answer. But what I like even better is that it’s not a no.

 

Me: How about this. You get caught up to the same episode I’m on and if you want to watch the next episode after that with me, you let me know?

 

There. Ball is in her court.

I watch as the three bubbles pop up and go away again. I’m likely to blow my knee out with as much bouncing as it’s doing.

Finally, she responds.

 

Beautiful: That sounds perfect.

 

I don’t know exactly what she’s saying sounds perfect — watching together or her letting me know — but either way, it’s communication, and I can definitely live with that.

 

Me: Have a good night, Beautiful Carly.

Beautiful: You too, Captain.

 

I’m not even ashamed to say that I throw a fist in the air.