Mariah

“My, you look beautiful today.” Lance starts the engine and pulls out onto the street. “Did you do something new to your hair?”

“Why are you being weird?” I laugh, fastening my seatbelt. I have no idea how we can fall into such an easy rhythm, like this is what we do and nothing awkward ever happened, but we do and I’m more grateful for it today than ever.

He looks at me over his shoulder. “I read a book on manners. It said I should compliment you when I see you.”

“I believe the first thing you said to me was, ‘I knew you’d cave,” I say, yawning.

“I tried.” He wrinkles his forehead. “Sleepy?”

“A little. It hit me around two this morning what I was up against today. Makes it hard to sleep.”

The car pulls onto the highway toward Lancaster and the address I gave Lance earlier. The traffic is light, the sun bright. Now that we’re in the car and on the way, a sharp, almost bitter sensation has its claws in my gut.

Instead of focusing on that, I focus on Lance.

He’s wearing a collared shirt the color of jade with a pair of dark jeans. He’s chosen to don the pair of black glasses I love which he wears on occasion. It’s the confidence, I think, that his glasses portray that makes me swoon when I see them on his face. There’s a fraction of stubble along his jaw that lends a casual vibe to his ensemble It’s glorious.

Tucking my hands under my thighs just so I don’t touch him, I try to refocus my attention on the road ahead.

“What’s the game plan today?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are we going eye-for-an-eye or playing nice? I can do either, but I’d like to have some operational direction before we go in.”

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I worry it back and forth.

There’s no telling how this is going to go. I haven’t seen Chrissy in forever except for an accidental run-in at the pharmacy during Easter. Every interaction between us is heated, the result of a lifetime of competition that I didn’t sign up for.

It hurts. When I was a little girl and Mom and Chrissy would take off to do a pageant or go for a girl’s day at the spa and I was left home alone, I would get angry. Not that I wanted to do those things; I just wanted to be included. Then, in my early twenties, I switched. Numbing myself from it was easier. I didn’t need them. When I met Eric I was sure I’d met the man I was going to start my own family with—and then he leaves me for them. It was like he conspired with the enemy and they all laughed in my face. The pain, the anger, wasn’t just from losing Eric. It was from losing him to them, losing him to the same people he was supposed to protect me from.

“I don’t know what the plan is,” I admit. “Maybe we should just go back home?”

Expecting a witty retort, I hold my breath and wait. Lance surprises me instead.

“I think we should go,” he states.

“Why?”

He mulls over my question, tapping out the song on the radio against his thigh. We speed around a car and he takes a drink of coffee from a to-go cup before turning to me.

“I think we should go because I’d give anything to celebrate a birthday with my Mom,” he says.

My heart pulls at his expression. He looks so lonely, even though I’m right here, so I pull his hand off his thigh and hold it gently in mine. The contact isn’t the bolt of lightning it usually is. It’s a soft, gentle buzz that I feel in every cell of my body. In return, he gives me the slightest upturn of his lips, but that’s all.

“I’m sorry your parents passed away,” I say. His hand is warm and firm, sturdy just like he is, as I roll it over in my palm. His fingers move against mine in a lazy dance that feels entirely too good.

He squeezes my fingers, holding them tight for a long second, before pulling his hand away. He uses the now-freed palm to turn the steering wheel leading us off the highway and into downtown Lancaster.

“My family isn’t like yours though,” I say. A bubble of anxiety hits me as we stop at the first light in town. “It’s almost like they aren’t my family. I’m just an attachment. I got thrown in at the last second like those apple pies at fast-food joints that you add for ninety-nine cents and then never eat. That’s me.”

“Come on,” he jokes. “You’re at least the chocolate pie.”

“I don’t know …” I say, the end of my words tinged with a laugh.

“You want to leave? We leave. You want to be the last person there? We stay. I’m here for you.” He looks me dead in the eye and I fight hard not to let him see me melt into a puddle. “If things get rough, just climb on my back and I’ll haul your ass out.” His head goes side-to-side like he’s thinking. “I might grab your ass on the way out though. Just warning you.”

“You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hell no,” he grins. “I might do it just to show your ex what he’s missing.”

My face twists up as I come to terms with seeing Eric. There’s a question dangling in the air but Lance doesn’t ask it. I wait until we hit the next stoplight and then just ask him what’s on his mind.

“This Eric, that’s his name right?” He asks as I nod. “How serious were you?”

I think back on the day he broke things off with me. How he called me at work and asked me to come right to his apartment because he wanted to talk. How that day I thought maybe, just maybe, this was the talk I was waiting for—the one that came dotted with a simple ring and a promise of a lifetime.

This is not something I want to discuss with Lance. It’s somewhat embarrassing, even though I know it’s not necessarily a reflection of me. It took me a long, long time to even semi-believe that and I’m not to the point where I can rock that attitude like it’s my job. Yet.

“I thought I’d marry him,” I admit. “I knew he’d been looking at rings because he left a browser open on the computer. I was really just waiting on him to pop the question,” I say, refusing to look at Lance. “Then he breaks up with me out of nowhere, so I figure he’s getting cold feet. It happens. But then six weeks or something later, I’m asked to come to lunch at Mom’s and there he sits with Chrissy.”

“Your mom just let this happen?” he asks in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” I nod enthusiastically. “It was my fault I was boring and didn’t fix myself up or stay exciting. What’s a man to do?”

Lance’s knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel. The tires bark a little as we take the final turn. I watch him in awe as he physically reacts to this story. That he cares enough, in any respect, to even react at all is both a little shocking and mind-blowing at once.

As the house comes into view, my breathing becomes ragged. I blow out a measured breath as the car climbs the hill up to the driveway.

“Here we are,” he says, parking behind a giant white SUV. “If I need bail, call Walker. You’d think Machlan because he owns a bar and this is more his speed, but he’d just find Eric and go at him for round two.”

Swatting his shoulder, I giggle. “You won’t need bail. They aren’t fighting people. Just assholes.”

“Yeah,” he says as he pops open his door. “But I am fighting people and I have a thing against assholes.”

He shakes his head, warning me not to open my door as he rounds the corner of the car. I sit like a princess, waiting for my door to be opened. It’s amusing and endearing at the same time because, although he’s done this a few times, something is slightly different about it now. And I’m okay with that.

“Listen,” I say as we start up the long sidewalk lined with rose bushes. “They are different from me.”

“I met your mother, remember?” he groans.

“Yes, but today will be different. Today she has Chrissy and the baby.” My throat is tight as I force a swallow. “They’re her pride and joy. I’m used to it. I know what it’s going to be like. But—”

He whirls me around to face him. Startled, I gasp but the breath falls slowly away as my eyes catch up with his.

He peers down at me, his green eyes sparkling. “You’re here because you’re the bigger person. I’m here because I’m with you. If they try to make you feel any less than you are—less smart or beautiful or talented—it’s because they’re insecure.”

There are hundreds of responses to that, but I can’t seem to utter a single one. His compassionate words have incapacitated mine.

My heart pounds as his hands cup my cheeks. “If I even think you’re starting to let them get to you, we’re gone.” He presses a sweet, simple kiss to the center of my cheek. It’s the most unloaded kiss I’ve ever received from him, but maybe my favorite one too.

Like a fool, I just nod, unable to come up with a coherent reply.

Lacing our fingers together, ignoring my sweaty palms, he leads me to the door. He presses the doorbell, still holding onto my hand.

Each second that passes feels like a lifetime and I want to turn around and go. I have no idea what to expect other than knowing I’ll be leaving with the understanding of how much I fail to make the cut in my mom’s eyes. That’s a given.

As we wait on her, the good ol’ script that always runs through my head starts playing. It reminds me that her mother died when she was ten and her grandmother passed away before that. It’s not totally her fault she doesn’t know how to behave in this role; she’s never been shown. It’s an excuse, I know, but one that does make her inadequacy a little easier to swallow.

The door opens. Mom is standing on the other side, a baby nestled in a soft pink blanket in her arms. “Good morning, Mariah,” she says. “I’m so happy you could make it.”

The sight of her with the baby startles me. I knew Chrissy’s daughter would be here and it’s really the main reason I agreed to this idiotic idea. But seeing the little button nose sticking out of the top of the blankets is enough to sock the wind right out of me.

Lance swoops in for the save. “Happy birthday, Taylor,” he says, squeezing my hand. “It was nice of you to invite us.”

“What a wonderful surprise,” she coos. “I was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks.

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sure you have more interesting things you could be doing today than accompany my daughter.”

My initial reaction is to turn away and head to the car. Her jab coupled with the sight of the baby is a bit much for the first twenty seconds, but Lance’s hand grips down on mine. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“How sweet,” she purrs. “Come in. Your sister and her husband are already in the living room. I was going to invite some friends to brunch with us, but thought we could have a family get together instead.”

It crosses my mind that she might intentionally be trying to drive me crazy as we head through the foyer. The house is nothing like I remember it. It’s nearly all-white now with lots of gold mirrors. Oversized vases sit here and there with sprays of fake flowers jutting out the top. There’s nothing comfortable or home-like about any of it, not that it felt like a home when I lived here.

We go through a newly-rounded doorway where the crystals from a chandelier send sparkles of light throughout the room. We turn a corner and I stop in my tracks.

Chrissy and Eric are standing along a wall of windows. They’re clearly awaiting our arrival. Lance takes a step closer to me as I try to maintain my composure.

My brain is muddled trying to decide what I should say or need to say or whether or not I should say anything at all.

Chrissy looks older than the last time I saw her. Her hair is now a reddish brown and her cheeks fuller than before. She reminds me of our father, in a way, and I wonder if she’s seen him lately.

Eric sports a beer belly that sticks out over the buckle of his belt. His hairline is receding slightly, even earlier than I predicted. There’s no twinkle in his eye, no joke on the tip of his tongue, and I wonder what I ever saw in him to begin with.

“Hello,” Lance says, breaking the ice. “How’s everyone doing?”

Eric darts across the room. “Hi. I’m Eric.” He offers Lance a hand, pointedly ignoring me. Lance bites back a smile as he shakes Eric’s hand.

“I’m Lance. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He looks at me and then right back to Lance. “That’s my wife, Chrissy, and our daughter, Betsy.”

Lance forces a swallow. “This is my girlfriend Mariah, but I think you already know that.”

My elbow finds his side and I can feel his body shifting with a silent chuckle.

“Nice to see you, Mariah.” Eric nods in my direction before rejoining my sister a few feet away.

I don’t want to look at any of them. It’s safe tucked against Lance’s side, depending on his predictable way of taking the reins when I need him to. I just wish we were some place else together.

“How are you, Mariah?” It’s Chrissy’s voice, soft and careful, that breaks the awkward silence.

“I’m good.” I pull my gaze away from Lance and settle it on my sister. “How are you, Chrissy?”

“I’m good.” She tries to give me a smile, but seems to be unsure whether it’s the right thing to do.

“Mariah,” Mom calls out. “There are appetizers in the dining room. I know how hungry you get and it’ll be a few minutes before brunch is ready.”

It’s a dig. It’s a dig as deep as the Mariana Trench. My teeth grind together knowing it’ll likely be the first of many.

Lance crooks his head so he can look me in the eye. It’s like he pulls me in, reminding me of who I am and who I’m not. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Giving him a quick smile, I turn to my family. Mom is still snuggling the baby on the sofa. Since she’s the real reason I agreed to this, I make a play. “Can I hold Betsy?”

Mom seems thrown by my question. My sister looks at me, slightly less thrown than our mother.

I don’t say anything and neither does she, but we quietly agree. Heading to the sofa, I wait as my mom lays the baby still swaddled in pink in my arms.

“Oh,” I say softly, pressing the blankets down so I can see her face. My eyes fill with tears as I take her in. Chrissy’s long, dark eyelashes and Eric’s full lips are present. I gasp when I see her tiny birthmark just above her upper lip like mine. “Hey, you,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I’m your Aunt Mariah.”

I feel a connection to this beautiful little angel that supersedes the emotions I have about her parents. She’s tiny and innocent and deserving of so much love that I hope I can be a part of her life in some meaningful way.

Raising her to my lips, I press a kiss to her sweet-smelling skin. My heart clenches as I hold her close, rocking her gently back and forth. When I open my eyes, I’m looking at Lance.

His brows are furrowed, his jaw working back and forth. He doesn’t look angry as Chrissy approaches me. He doesn’t look worried either. He looks like he’s thinking about something that is taking every bit of his mental power to process.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Chrissy whispers, coming up beside me. There’s a hesitation in her tone, like she’s feeling me out.

“She’s beautiful,” I say softly. “She has my birthmark.” I pull her away from my chest and look at her again. “You are so pretty, Miss Betsy. Your great grandma would’ve loved you so, so much.”

“Let me see her,” Lance says, reaching for the baby.

I’m not sure I heard him right. But, sure enough, he takes the few steps toward me with his arms outstretched. He holds my gaze as I lay the baby in his strong arms.

Our skin brushes against one another’s as we make the transfer. It sends a rush of warmth down my spine that I can’t explain, but know I want to experience again.

I watch Lance take in Betsy from a few steps back. He looks so big holding the tiny little baby. She doesn’t even take up the distance from his hand to his elbow. He holds her like he’s done it a million times, like holding a baby is a routine thing he does every weekend. There’s no clumsiness, no protest from Betsy to give her back to someone who knows what they’re doing. She sleeps just as soundly in his arms as she did mine.

“You’re a cutie,” he tells her. “You look a lot like your Aunt Mariah and that’s totally a good thing.” He lifts his eyes to mine and then drags them to my sister. “She’s gorgeous. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Um, she has so much hair,” Chrissy says, a nervous edge in her voice masked with an abundance of cheerfulness. “I hope it stays kind of curly like this.”

I’m not sure who she’s taking to so I don’t bother responding.

With a final look at the baby, Lance offers her back to me. “You want her?”

“Yes,” I say, feeling her nuzzle up to me. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. Her little eyes open slowly as she gets comfortable. “Hey, there,” I say, as she tries to focus on me. “How are you, sweet baby?”

Her lips twist in a cry that’s not really a cry.

“I think she’s hungry,” I say, turning to my sister. I hand her over, still unsure how to navigate this with Chrissy. I can tell she wants to talk, to pretend like we’re long lost friends, but we aren’t. We were never friends and I haven’t forgotten.

Once the baby is settled in Eric’s lap with a bottle, I exhale. “Congratulations,” I tell both of them. Or neither of them. I don’t know.

“Thank you,” Chrissy says. “I’m glad she got to meet you.”

“Me too,” I say, rocking back on my heels.

“I’d like to add to this little tribe,” Mom declares out of nowhere. “Do you think you and Mariah will be discussing children soon, Lance? I’d love her to finally settle down.”

“Really, Mom?” I ask, disdain thick in my voice. “Are you really going to do this today?”

“Do what, honey? I’m just asking about your plans. That’s all.”

Lance lays a hand on my arm. He looks at my mother. “Whoever Mariah chooses to be the father of her children will be a lucky man.”

“Are you saying you’re not up for the job?” She doesn’t even try to pretend she’s not putting him on the spot. “Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Mother,” I growl, glad I’m no longer holding Betsy. My fists are clenched at my sides as I watch her play one of her maddening games.

“I think you should let your daughter decide who she wants to procreate with and you should worry more about whatever is burning in the kitchen,” Lance shrugs.

As soon as he says it, I smell the odor of burnt toast. Mom must too because she gets to her feet and heads towards the kitchen.

“Babies come when the time is right, but I’m starting to wonder if she will ever find a man to settle down with,” Mom says dryly like she just commented on the color of the sky.

“That’s none of your business,” I sputter.

Lance smiles at my mom. “Maybe Mariah is pickier than most women. Maybe when she does settle down, it won’t end in divorce.”

With her eyes narrowed in our direction, Mom heads through a doorway to the right. The room heaves a collective sigh as soon as she’s out of sight.

“You have to cut her some slack,” Chrissy says. “She’s under a lot of stress right now.”

I must not have heard her correctly. “She’s under stress?”

“Yes. You know she doesn’t handle it well.”

“And how does that make up for the other years I’ve been alive?” I ask.

“It’s not you, Mariah,” she contends. “She just can’t deal normally like you or I can.”

“It is me and that’s fine. It can always be me,” I shrug. “I don’t care anymore. That’s where you both lose.”

There’s something freeing about putting that into the world. A weight is lifted off my shoulders as I watch Chrissy’s reaction to my words.

“Mariah …”

“No, Chrissy,” I say, shaking my head. “No.”

“I …” Chrissy looks at Betsy on Eric’s lap before looking back at me. “I’d like to talk to you alone one of these days. Do you think that’s possible?”

There’s no easy answer to this. I have so much to say to her and yet nothing at all. So many years’ worth of questions but none of the answers even matter anymore.

I look up at Lance and he smiles down at me.

“Maybe,” I say to Chrissy. “Let’s talk about it later.”

Chrissy agrees, forcing a smile. “Come on, Eric. Let’s check on Mom.”

Lance’s chin dips as soon as they disappear. “I’d like to talk to you alone one of these days. Do you think that’s possible?”

“You’re talking to me alone right now.”

“Talking was a euphemism.”

I giggle, twisting in his arms so I’m facing him. If there is one easy part of today, it’s being with him.

He looks at me with an incredulous, almost reverent glimmer in his eye and the entirety of it—that look, his gorgeous face, the way he stood up for me today and let me lean on him—is too much.

I’m sure I could’ve faced this on my own, but it was so much easier with him by my side.

Every brick I’ve stacked between us is starting to fall down. It’s getting harder and harder to remember why I shouldn’t want anything to do with Lance. It’s becoming impossible to tell myself to stay away from someone I’ve been attracted to for so long, especially now that he’s showing me so many sides of himself.

He rests his chin on the top of my head, lacing his fingers together at the small of my back. It feels good to be able to rest on him for a moment, feel the strength of his arms around me.

“What the fuck is wrong with your mom?” he asks.

“I warned you,” I giggle.

“You couldn’t have prepared me for that. Wow.”

“I’m never prepared, even though I know what’s coming.”

He kisses me just behind the ear. I’m running on adrenaline and his touches; his sweet little gestures are enough to make my head nearly explode.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I breathe, feeling my body go limp in his arms. “Seriously, Lance. I can’t take it.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Be a dick,” I laugh. “Stop being sweet and kind and touching me …”

He rolls his hips ever-so-slightly against me. “Do you feel how hard I am for you?”

“I think you’re always hard.”

“This isn’t for some app girl or another version of you. I’m so fucking hard for you, Mariah Malarkey, that I can’t stand it. But I will stand it because you hold all the cards. Why I’m okay with that, I have no fucking clue and it might be my undoing,” he chuckles.

Feeling more confident, more brazen than I’ve ever felt in my life, I turn and stand on my tiptoes. It’s my mouth on his ear, my breath hot against his skin. In a voice so low I can barely hear it myself, I whisper, “I’m so wet for you, Lance Gibson, I’m going to have to take my panties off.”

His jaw falls to the floor. I get a quick glance at it before I have to look away so he doesn’t see the pink in my cheeks.

“Come on. Let’s get lunch,” I call out, walking away as quickly as I can.