Chapter Sixteen
The sun hovers just above the ocean. Orange, gold, and pink streak across the sky. I open the top of the grill and set the cedar plank that carries a side of salmon inside.
“Here you go.” Tara walks up and hands me a glass of white wine. There is a peace winding through me that I haven’t felt in maybe forever. I sip my wine and place my arm around Tara’s waist. This is how I want life to feel; smooth and soft and silky with beauty and love and a slow joy that permeates the air around me.
“Good day?” Tara asks.
I don’t even know how to quantify this day. This very simple day of throwing a ball into the waves and running into the surf with Lily by my side while Rachel and Tara sit on beach chairs talking and reading. Today is the best day I’ve had in what feels like a lifetime. I look into her blue eyes that I’m starting to call home.
“The best day.” I kiss her. “I love you.” I say, and I know that this moment is seared into my memory. Could a lifetime possibly be made up of moments like this one and all the brilliant moments strung together during this day?
“Do you think Rachel will mind? I invited our neighbor over for dinner.”
“Naw, she won’t mind.” I turn away, lift the lid and give the salmon a peek. “Is he single?”
Tara nods. “Very. Well-adjusted. Widowed. And has a good job.”
“She may end up thanking you.”
Tara’s gaze drifts to the house and I follow her gaze. Rachel brushes Lily’s wet hair. She’s fresh out of the bath and wears summer pajamas. “I don’t know. I think she’s pretty determined to get Lily raised before she gets involved with anyone.”
I understand that determination to stay un-involved, but I also now understand that sometimes it’s not a choice. Sometimes the person you’re meant to be with doesn’t wait for the perfect moment, they simply arrive, unrequested and unwelcome, and their presence requires you to do the work you need to do to share your life with them.
“She’s focused on Lily,” I say. “But sometimes being in love isn’t a choice, it simply is.”
She turns her face to me and presses her lips to mine.
Warmth flows through my body because I want a lifetime of this. What today and tonight is, this is what I want. Tara’s stomach growls.
“You’re hungry.”
“Starved,” she says. “And that smells amazing.”
I lift the top and peek in. “Five more minutes.”
“I’ll go pull the potatoes,” she says.
I watch the woman I love walk into the house. I turn toward the surf. The sun slips into the calm ocean. The waves caress the shore and I know that everything is right in my world.
***
“How have we never met?” I ask. Alex is the type of man that in my business I feel I would’ve run into at some point.
“You do VC, I make movies. Your kind isn’t exactly pounding down the doors to invest in films.”
“Fair enough.” I take another sip of my wine and squeeze Tara’s hand. Lily’s eyes are heavy and she looks like she may fall asleep at the table.
“Rach,” I whisper, and nod my chin toward my niece.
“Excuse me, I’m going to put my little one down.”
I’m up before the words are out of Rachel’s mouth. “I’ve got it,” I say. I lift Lily from her seat and without a peep, she snuggles her head onto my shoulder. Her hair smells fresh and of sun and wind and strawberries. I smile at Tara who stands.
“I’ll help.”
I walk up the stairs and down the hall to the room with a double bed. Tara pulls back the blanket and I gently put Lily in the bed.
“That’s the good kind of sleep,” I whisper. “The kind that comes after a day of sun, family, and fun.” Lily is so deeply asleep her eyelids don’t even flutter.
“There’s nothing sexier than seeing a man carry an adorable child and tuck her into bed,” Tara says. She tilts her head toward mine and we kiss. A soft and gentle kiss, the kind that comes with love.
We walk out of Lily’s room and I shut the door but leave the tiniest crack. Rachel’s laugh comes up the stairs. Big Sis sounds happy.
“He’s a nice guy,” I say.
Tara wiggles her eyebrows. “I know. I was kind of hoping that Rachel would think so too.”
Another laugh from downstairs followed by a deeper, masculine laugh.
“It sounds like they’re having a good time. Well done. You think you can fix up both the damaged Reynolds’ kids in one month?”
“I can try,” she says.
“That would be quite an accomplishment when you consider our failure in love.”
“Not really a failure on either of your parts was it?”
I pull her into my arms and close my eyes. “It felt like a failure.” The warmth of Tara’s body feels good pressed against me. Almost as though failure isn’t possible when she’s this close and my feelings are this good.
“No failure,” Tara whispers. “Sadness, but no failure. You tried to do everything for the woman you loved. How is that a failure?”
A breath shudders through my lungs. Heat builds in my eyes but the weight of guilt that compresses my chest when the topic of Susie comes up isn’t present. The loss is still there and I guess the loss of Susie will be with me for the rest of my life, but the guilt over not being able to save her seems to have gone.
“Her death wasn’t your fault.”
I open my eyes and nod. And while I know that Susie’s death wasn’t my fault, I’m still not ready to let go of the belief that if I’d only let her go, she’d still be alive and living her life.
“There you two are.” Rachel stands at the far end of the hallway at the top of the stairs. “Lily okay?” Rachel brushes by me and peeks into the room. I stand behind Big Sis and peer into the room too.
“She’s the best thing I’ve ever done,” Rachel says.
“She’s perfect,” I say.
Rachel turns back to me and Tara, “I started the coffee and Alex is breaking out the dessert he made.”
“He bakes?” I ask.
Tara nods.
“He’s perfect for Rachel,” I whisper in Tara’s ear.
We follow Rachel down the stairs. The table and kitchen have already been cleaned and the dishwasher loaded. Big Sis may be the best house guest ever.
We head to the living room where Alex has built a fire in the fireplace. Tara brings over a tray with coffee cups, plates, a carafe and silverware, and Alex follows behind her with the chocolate torte. Rachel starts to cut pieces while Alex tells me about the next film his company is putting into production. Rachel hands me my piece and I cut into the torte and take my first bite.
“Hey,” Alex says, and nods toward Tara. “How’s that new book of yours going?”
“You’re writing a book?” Rachel asks.
I glance toward Tara. A book? She hasn’t mentioned a book to me… My gaze is locked to hers but she won’t meet my eyes.
“It’s nothing, just this idea that I have and I’m thinking—”
“Nothing? Ha, it’s not nothing,” Alex continues. “Every publishing house in New York has made her an offer. I’ve even made her an offer for the film rights for this yet to be written book.”
My belly squeezes and suddenly the untangled knot in my chest is tangled and tightened again.
Because I know. I know before anyone asks.
“What’s it about?” Rachel balances her plate with a piece of torte on her knee and takes a sip of her coffee.
“It’s uh—”
“It’s that brilliant article she wrote for the LA Post,” Alex breaks in. “Everyone wants a piece of that. The click rate was off the charts and if they can’t find the guy then they definitely want his story.”
I put my plate on the table beside my chair. I can’t eat another bite. I swallow. I look at Tara but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she gazes at her plate and scoops some of the torte onto her fork.
“You never mentioned a book deal,” I say. I try to keep my voice thoughtful and light as though simply surprised by the idea that the woman I’m seeing has a book deal when on the inside I’m screaming, What. The. FUCK?!
“I’ve gotten some offers based on the article but I haven’t taken any of them.” She finally meets my gaze. “I’m not sure I want to write it.”
I nod. Her response makes me feel a bit better, if not entirely. She’s lied by omission. She should’ve told me that people wanted her to write a book, that she’d been approached. I feel lied to with her decision not to say anything.
“I loved that article,” Rachel says. “It resonated with every woman I know.”
“You don’t think he’s a little creepy?” Alex asks. “I mean a guy just wanting to fuck a boatload of women and claiming it was his vocation? Doesn’t that sound like the world’s worst pick up line to you?”
“No, it seemed like he never had to pick them up. That they were always reaching out to him.”
“They were”—Tara’s eyes flick to me—“He’s legit. According to all the women I spoke to and when I met him, he truly believes that this is his vocation and he does it because he loves women and he wants them to feel good about themselves.”
“Was he gorgeous?” Rachel nearly pants.
I stand with my plate. I can’t sit here and listen to my sister pant over a man that she believes is distant when actually it’s me. That is simply too strange.
“Come on ladies, really?” Alex smiles and shakes his head. “Tara, you didn’t embellish any of what the women had to say?”
I stand in front of her and reach out for her now empty dessert plate. Her gaze meets mine and I can’t hide my disappointment, my discomfort, or the sadness that radiates from my heart. Her gaze screams, ‘I’m sorry’, but my mental state in this moment won’t allow me to accept her apology.
“No, they all felt as though he’d saved them,” Tara says, and her gaze locks with mine. I break away from her, unwilling to give her the acceptance she seeks.
“If you heard the stories that my women friends tell, you’d understand why,” Rachel says, and hands me her empty dessert plate.
“It’s that bad?” Alex asks.
“It’s that bad.” Rachel says. They look at each other and there is this moment between them. I feel the spark.
Rachel takes a breath and looks away from Alex. “My goodness, I ate too much,” she says, and lets out a nervous laugh.
“Go for a walk with me,” Alex says.
Rachel glances at him. The invitation is for her and her alone, and in his tone, his words, is more than simply a walk. Rachel glances at me and Tara. “You guys mind?”
“Not at all,” I say.
Alex stands. Rachel is on her feet and grabs her jacket from the closet.
“Have fun,” Tara says, and Rachel and Alex are out the sliders and across the deck and onto the beach.
Silence.
Uncomfortable silence.
I take the plates into the kitchen and turn on the water to rinse them off.
“I didn’t tell you because…”
Her words drift away as though she’s waiting for me to break in, waiting to see my reaction to her lie.
I turn off the water and turn to her. “Because why?”
“Because I thought you’d be upset.”
“I am upset.”
“I haven’t taken any of the offers.”
“Do you want to?”
“Of course I want to. They’re offering me sick money, and what writer doesn’t want a huge book deal?”
I step to the island that separates us. “If it’s only about the money, I can match any offer you’ve received.”
She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. Her gaze slips toward the window and the ocean beyond. “It’s not just about the money.”
“Of course it’s not. It’s the prestige. You want the prestige of a big book deal with a super-sexy topic.” I wipe my hands on a towel and toss it onto the counter.
“I can’t do it anyway. I’d need your permission and you won’t give it to me.”
“You didn’t ask for my permission before.”
She closes her eyes and takes a big breath. “I want us more than I want that. I don’t want this between us, I want—”
“You want everything for yourself is what you want. You want me and you want the book deal and you want the film and your ego wants the prestige that comes with having that big thing that everyone is talking about.”
“Do you know how many interviews I’ve turned down?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’ve turned them down so we could have a chance at this, and now you want me to feel badly for the success I have?”
“No. I want you to admit that the success you’re having comes at the expense of the trust we need to build a relationship.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“You don’t see how not telling me that you got offers for this story, my life story, which includes my private decisions and my pain and how I’ve managed to cope, is lying to me?”
Rage thrums through my body. My voice tightly restrained. This is nearly the exact same argument we had a month ago, only this time it’s over a book deal. I’m an idiot. I’m a fucking idiot who is lead around through life by my cock.
“I didn’t agree to do the book because I want to have a relationship with you.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“Why do I have to? We were barely speaking until three weeks ago. Sure we were fucking, but that is all we were doing. You wouldn’t talk to me about anything and certainly not this. If I’d brought this up when it happened? The first time I told them no—”
“The first time? They keep asking?”
“Of course they do. It’s a great story, Jake. I’m sorry, but you’re crazy fucking life makes a great story. Must be horrible to be you.” She tosses that last line at me with loads of sarcasm. I don’t know what to do with her words.
“Yeah, well, it’s much harder to live the story than it is to rip it off.”
Her mouth drops open and I brush by her because my anger is too deep and running too fast. If I stay in this room with Tara I’ll say things that she might not be able to forgive, and part of me still holds out hope for her. For me. For us.