Epilogue
Eliza
Two years later
I lay in Ian’s bed, wondering why on earth I still had an apartment. I was never there anymore. I generally just went there to get my things, but I was leaving more and more of my belongings behind at Ian’s house. I was going to have to talk to him about moving in. It seemed silly not to. I loved my apartment, but it was way smaller than Ian’s and his was more convenient for work for both of us. I looked at the time and grinned. It was almost ten in the morning, and I was still lying in bed. Ian had left early that morning for a breakfast date with his father, and I’d told myself that I was going to have a productive day. But so far, I’d just stayed in bed, dozing off or sometimes reading. It was nice.
Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I’d been with Ian for two years. We’d gone through so much in the beginning that we’d gotten close a lot quicker than a normal relationship. But I knew that I didn’t ever want to be with anyone else. He was the one. I just knew it. I’d taken him home to California about nine months prior. It was the first time that I’d gone home, and it felt strange to be back there. Ian had been worried that I would take one look at the place and want to move back. But that hadn’t happened. I knew it wouldn’t.
We’d stayed with my mother for a few days, and even though she objected to the relationship at the start, she was clearly enamored with Ian by the time we left. She’d told me that she had been in the wrong and that she had only been looking out for my best interests. Things hadn’t been good between my mother and I, but after going back home to see her, it had gotten better. She called at least twice a week now to catch up, and sometimes she spoke to Ian more than she spoke to me. She often asked if I would come back, and I always said no. I loved my mother, but Arizona as my home now. Ian was my home.
I heard the door open and close and then saw Ian’s face pop around the corner.
“You still in bed?”
I laughed. “Yeah. I’m in such a lazy mood.”
“Good, you deserve it. You’re the hardest working person I’ve ever met. I mean, I thought I was a workaholic. But you take the cake.”
“I love cake,” I said, and we both laughed.
He wasn’t lying about work, though. The company had gotten huge over the past two years and was now the leading party company in Arizona. John was now looking at expanding the business to more cities in the state, and was currently in the process of looking for staff members and venues. Mae and I were still the top party planners in the company, and we’d both hired an assistant to help us. On top of that, we’d hired an assistant for Paul, as well as a receptionist. The company was booming. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the outside of the building, which was still as derelict as before. I loved it.
“Have you eaten?” he asked me.
I pointed to the plate next to me, which now just had a few crumbs on it. “Yeah, I had peanut butter on toast. The breakfast of champions. How about you? How was breakfast with your dad? How’s he doing?”
I’d gotten close to Pop in the past two years. My own father had passed away when I was just a little girl, and my mother had never remarried. Ian’s father treated me just like the daughter he never had, and I loved him for it.
“He’s doing well. He’s almost fully recovered. It took a lot longer than he had hoped, but I suppose it’s because he’s a lot older now. But he’s doing well. He’s back to his old self again. And he’s asked me to take on the role as president of the club. Like permanently.”
“Really? I thought he’d want the job once he was better?”
“He said it was pointless. He reckons I’ve been doing a better job than him. He’s still going to be a part of the club, but he wants me to be in charge.”
“What did you say?”
He grinned. “I said yes. I was sort of hoping he’d let me do it anyway.”
“I knew you were.”
“And he’s asked me to officially take over at the shop. He’s still going to work there, but he wants me to be in charge. Who knew he would ever trust me enough for this?”
“So, you own the shop now? That’s amazing!”
“Yeah. Oh, and there’s something I want to show you there. I’ve been working on a little something. I want to show you before I show anyone else. Mind if we stop by there before going out for dinner tonight?”
“We’re going out for dinner?” I asked. That was news to me.
“We are. Wear your yellow dress.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? I haven’t worn that dress in ages.”
“I know. But I want to see you in it again.”
I smiled. That dress would always remind of that time in the clearing when we’d made love on the grass. There was still a small grass stain at the bottom of the dress that I’d never managed to get out.
“I like this. Dinner and my outfit all picked for me. I don’t actually see any reason to get out of bed until then.”
Ian laughed. “Oh yeah? Well, you might not see a reason to get out of bed, but I definitely see a reason to get into bed.”
I pulled back the covers. “Come on in.”
We spent the entire day in bed, getting up only for bathroom breaks and snacks. It was wonderful.
“All right, then, sleepyhead,” Ian said early that evening. “It’s time to get ready. Dinner has been booked, and we can’t be late.”
“Yes, sir,” I said and got out of bed. I climbed into the shower and then changed into my bright-yellow dress.
“Should I wear heels with this? Seeing as though we’re going out for dinner.”
“What? No way. Since when has that stopped you before? Sneakers for sure.”
I grinned. “I’m so glad you said that. I don’t know what got into me there.”
I put on my white sneakers, curled my hair ever so slightly at the edges, and put on a bit of makeup. I walked out and twirled for Ian.
“Beautiful.”
“So, where are we going?” I asked when we got out. We climbed onto his bike, and I wondered why I had even bothered with my hair.
“You’ll see,” he said. “But first, we’re going to the shop.”
We made our way to the shop, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. I loved going for rides on the motorcycle and would choose it over a car ride any day. It was night time, and the shop was closed, so Ian fished out his key and opened up. We walked past his dad’s office, and then Ian flicked the switch in the garage.
I gasped when the light came on. The entire shop had been decorated, and in the middle stood a table and two chairs. On the table was a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“Ian, what’s going on? How did you do all this?”
He smiled. “Well, I happen to know some very good party planners in town.”
“Mae did this?”
“Yeah, she worked all day on it. She did a good job,” he said and looked around.
“So, this is where we are having dinner?”
“Oh yeah. Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding me? I love it. This is amazing. Wow, it’s beautiful.”
It was one of the most romantic settings I’d ever seen, which was quite something considering it was in the middle of a garage. The motorcycles and tools somehow just added to the appeal. It was a mixture of romantic and eclectic at once, and I loved it. I looked back at Ian and saw that he was holding three presents in his hands.
“What’s this?”
“Gifts. Sit down.”
I took a seat and squealed.
“I thought you were going to tell me that I shouldn’t have gotten you anything.”
“No way,” I said. “I love presents.”
He chuckled. “And that’s what I love about you. Okay, which present do you want first?”
I pointed to the small one, but he shook his head. “No, you can have this one first,” he said and handed me a much bigger box.
I laughed and opened up the box, careful not to tear the paper.
“You can rip right into it, you know.”
“I know. But I don’t want to.”
I pulled out a box and opened it up. Inside was a pair of white shoes, with yellow laces. I laughed with delight.
“These are the coolest shoes I’ve ever seen. Wait, I’m putting them on now.”
I bent over and put the new shoes on and twirled around the room for Ian to see.
“Do you like them?” he asked.
“They’re perfect. I never thought of changing the color of my laces. I’m going to do that all the time now. These are so cool. Thank you! Wait, why am I even getting gifts? It’s not my birthday.”
“Does there need to be a reason?”
“I guess not.”
“Then you can have gift number two.”
Inside was my very own helmet. It was black with a bright-yellow flower on the side.
“I sense a theme here,” I said when I saw the yellow. “This is amazing. You sure you won’t mind riding with me wearing this thing? It’s very girly.”
“Well, you’re a girl,” he said. “And I thought you’d like it. It’s about time you had your own helmet.”
“It’s perfect.”
“And now, for the final gift. After that, we can start the eating and drinking part of the night.”
He handed me a small box. I opened this one even more slowly than before. I didn’t want the fun to end. I figured it would be something else yellow. But I didn’t expect to see a beautiful silver ring with a tiny yellow stone in it. I looked at Ian with surprise and saw that he was down on his knee.
“Eliza, you’re the most beautiful girl that I’ve ever known. You’re my sunlight. And nothing in the world would make me happier than having you as my wife. Will you marry me?”
I felt the tears fall down my face. “Yes! Yes, of course, I will marry you. Can I wear these sneakers to the wedding?” I said, and he laughed.
“You’d better wear them to the wedding.”
I laughed and wiped away my tears.
“I love you, Lashes.”
“I love you too, Gunner.”
“Did you just call me ‘Gunner’?” he teased.
I bit my lip. “Anyone coming in here tonight?”
“No, it’s just us. Come on, let me put this ring on your finger. Keep it on. Hell, keep the shoes on, too.”
I chuckled. “Do you just want to have sex with me so that I will enjoy whatever food you give me?”
“Maybe. You can’t blame me, though. I learned from the best!”
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STEPBROTHER SUMMER
By Alycia Taylor
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Ashley
I pressed my foot against the gas as the light turned green, and felt the slight jolt forward as the car made its way through the intersection.
I glanced at my GPS and sighed, thankful that I didn’t have to rely on the directions to the beach house from my memory. Because right now, I had no idea where I was. I figured that I probably should know exactly where I was, seeing how I spent every summer traveling this way from my family’s house, pressing my nose against the window, counting down the moments until I was awarded my first glimpse of the beach. But everything looked so different now. There was a large part of me that began to doubt I was even in the right place.
Five years is a long time, I reminded myself. Plus, the last five years in particular had felt like an eternity. Between the tragedy of my mother dying, rather suddenly, trying to put my life back together afterward when it kept changing faster than the shifting sands of the dunes I sifted through the last time I was here, my existence was far from easy. And this summer was only going to compact a whole host of feelings that I didn’t wish to have.
I dealt with my grief by compartmentalizing it. I packed it away in a space inside my mind, just like my father packed my mother’s things into boxes and stuffed them in the attic only a week after she passed away. I supposed doing the same relative concept with my emotions, I hadn’t actually worked through them. Instead, I had thrown myself into school in order to compensate for the lack of stability within my personal life. I had always been athletic and I did well in classes, but in order to get through the shock and tragedy of my mother’s passing, I had simply exited my own life, as per anything other than school and work. I lost touch with friends and stopped doing very much. Even though emotions, friends and attitudes changed, the only constant that remained was the lessons and structure of school.
That hadn’t stopped just because my mother died. The homework still mounted, the classes didn’t change, and throughout the week, there was always a practice or game to attend for sports. None of that stopped because I no longer had a mother, and that was what I needed in order to get through it. I didn’t need a father who was always angry or depressed, or friends and other family members who now looked at me like I was some orphan. Even though my father was still around, in many ways, he was emotionally unavailable. And even though everyone else was opened to giving me the space I needed, or the shoulder to cry on, I didn’t want any of it. I didn’t want their advice and I didn’t want their words of condolences. I just wanted my life to go on. In many ways, I wanted to escape and pretend like nothing had changed.
So while it wasn’t perfect, life was still better at school, buried up to my neck in papers, tests and assignments. I worked far too hard on them just to pass the time, so that I didn’t have to face my own reality.
When I went off to college though, it truly provided me with the new world I sought. I had friends who didn’t know that my mother had died and none of my teachers knew anything about me. I had a chance to be a normal person again and I enjoyed every bit of it.
But all of that was over for now, and I was having a hard time coming to grips with it. I wanted the safety of school, not the memories of my past, coming back to haunt me.
However, I tried not to think about any of that as I continued on. I glanced around the area that once was just a small town, but had seemed to grow three times the size since the last time I was here.
I glanced around as tiny fragments of memories skated past my vision. There was the drug store that had been there, probably since before most of the current locals were even born, and the movie theater that my family used to go to when the weather was unsuitable for the beach. Yet, all around the memories from a life that I could no longer begin to fathom without tearing up, there was so much that had changed.
Maybe it’s for the best…I thought as I came upon the bridge that would lead me back toward the shoreline. I have changed and my life has changed, so perhaps it is better that the beach I knew is left in the past as well.
This thought, after the initial upset of not knowing exactly where I was, despite the countless memories I had formed in this area, actually brought me some peace. After all, as I had gotten older, all that happened to the life I knew was either disappearing or disappointing me when I learned the truth.
These past five years, all I had ever wanted to do was get away. At school, I found that escape; but now, I was just returning home from my first year in college.
Well, this isn’t exactly going home, I reminded myself, feeling a seething sense of malice burning through my body as I stopped at the next light. Years ago, I would have thought nothing about calling the beach house home; but now, the closest thing to home I had was my dorm room.
Going to spend the summer at the beach house with my father, stepmother and my meathead of a stepbrother, both of whom I had only met once at my father’s wedding, was not my idea of a good time. After all, they were not my family. Just because my father needed someone to lay with on a constant basis and was okay with the baggage that she tugged, kicking and screaming, did not mean I had to be okay with it.
My stepmother was all right, I guess. She was a pretty woman, but nothing like my mother. She was younger than my father and more materialistic. I cursed myself now, because I was the one who had encouraged my father to get back out there and date. I thought it would help both of us, since for the past four years he had been swallowed up in a plague of depression that was volatile and began to affect his health. When he met and married my stepmother, easily and without much consideration for how it might affect my relationship with him, I realized that I was wrong, at least, about the fact that his finding a wife might make my life a little easier. I didn’t have to worry about him anymore, which was nice. But the way he acted around her caused me to think that perhaps he had conveniently forgotten all about my mother, like a bad dream, and that certainly was not okay.
My stepbrother was fun to look at, with his overdone muscles and enticing tattoos, but he was almost unbearable the second he opened his mouth. I didn’t care much for him from the moment I met him. I was all but dreading having to share my sacred place with these strangers, whom my mother probably wouldn’t even like anyway.
Plus, their existence would cause me to have to eventually come to terms with the fact that my life was now completely different. I hadn’t been able to make it over that hurdle in five years and, therefore, I doubted very highly that this summer was going to change my perspective for the better.
That thought was illustrated almost cruelly when I made my way up to the beach house. I realized that, like a solitary piece of my history frozen in time, although things had changed around it, it had stayed exactly the same.
With this realization, I slowed the car as I approached. I wasn’t quite sure how I was feeling. I was homesick for the school I had grown to love, even though I had only stayed there for two semesters. And I felt slightly sick at the thought of having to stay in this house with these people, since I was fairly certain I would have the same opinion I felt my mother would have of them.
On the way to the beach house, I had tried to think about my father and convince myself that he had always done his best.
After all, you were the one who told him that dating again would be a good idea, I reminded myself.
However, as I saw the house in front of me, unchanged by the years, though the tide seemed to go out on the beach that I remembered and come back with an updated version, forgetting the house, I lost all hope of the thoughts I tried to convince myself with the entire journey here.
I knew now that it wasn’t going to be fun to see the old beach house again and it wouldn’t be enough.
When I finally parked my car, with a great amount of effort, and gazed up at the unchanged form of mockery, I was convinced that what I truly wanted was impossible. I supposed then, as tears filled my eyes, that not so deep down, I knew that getting what I sought from coming back to this place wasn’t going to work. Seeing the ghosts of my past before me without substance and without conviction just wasn’t going to work, especially when I was forced to create new memories with people that were never supposed to be there in the first place.
This was not how my life was supposed to go… I thought as I shook my head in order to ward off the tears. I was angry and upset by the thought that this certainly wouldn’t be the last time that I really wanted to do nothing but cry hysterically, turn this car around and go back to the place where I felt safe.
However, I knew that I couldn’t do that. I owed it to my father, if nothing else, to give this summer a shot at being good. After all, he had talked with me about it for months.
Despite my feelings on the subject, that was all he seemed to want to talk to me about. He would ask briefly about school, but after the typical father questions, he would delve into his plans for the summer. Most of them included my presence, rather than my participation, which aggravated me a little. I t seemed that all he wanted to do was spend time showing his new wife all of the things he had fun doing with his old wife; as though he was happy to be rid of the source of the information, but thankful to still have the idea for the sake of fun.
I realized it wasn’t that way, though. I knew he just wanted to get himself off on the right foot with his wife of six months, but personally, I didn’t think bringing her back to the spot where he and my mother had every one of their special moments and family vacations was the right place to do it. Still, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. I knew that if he had a sense for how I really felt, my father would be devastated.
So instead of turning the car around and heading straight back over the bridge, I wiped my eyes clear of any moistness, took a deep breath and turned off the car. I didn’t get out right away, though. Instead, I just sat there, and prepared myself to grin and bear my visceral reaction to this idea for the rest of the summer, while I secretly counted down the days until I could once again disappear into my studies.
However, for the first few tries, each time I grasped ahold of the door handle, I felt myself become overcome with emotion almost immediately.
Each time that happened, I would gaze up at the house and realize that everything had changed about my life since the last time I drove up to this piece of property and set foot inside this beach house. The eerie unchanged nature of the house taunted me each time I looked at it and so, it took me three tries to finally pull open the door.
The salty air had a nice breeze, but I didn’t notice it as I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
It was, however, in this moment that I realized I had lost all hope of having any semblance of an enjoyable summer, as I defiantly took a few long strides forward, ready to take on whatever emotion or situation was about to come my way.