Destiny

I knew I shouldn’t have come here. How was I supposed to know that was going to happen? I couldn’t. There was no way. Now not only did everyone in this damn town still hate me and think the worst of me—Jordan, too, and he didn’t even know the half of it—but now Toby hated me.

At least that’s what he screamed at me as soon as we got back to Tillie’s two hours ago. He cried the entire way back and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. A thousand excuses and reasons to give him raced through my brain, but they all jumbled and tangled in my throat.

As soon as we got inside, he ran to the room he was staying in and slammed the door.

With frustration and anger and guilt building inside of me, instead of wandering aimlessly around her small house like I’d done last night, taking in all the pictures she hung on her walls, noting that not a single thing had changed in a decade, I got to work.

I had to get her house packed up.

I had to get things stored. Things I wanted to save and ship back to our home in a suburb of Houston. On Monday, I had a meeting with the lawyer in charge of Tillie’s estate and then I was meeting with a realtor to get the house listed. I had to get everything cleaned, the house decluttered and staged to sell quickly.

In the meantime, I planned on holing up in the house except for a brief trip to the grocery store to stock up on food for the next few days. Then, Toby and I were getting the hell out of this godforsaken place.

As I opened the first box, I jumped at the sound of Toby’s music blaring so loudly upstairs the walls shook, in danger of knocking down pictures all over the place.

One included my prom picture. Jordan was in a tux, white shirt, dark red vest that had matched my dress and deep red corsage on my wrist. We stood side by side, and his hand was settled low on my hip. I couldn’t believe Tillie still had that photo hanging and Toby had seen it.

As soon as he saw it last night, he slammed to a halt on the stairs. Pointed to it. Turned to me and asked, “Who’s that?”

“Some guy I used to know,” I’d muttered, body already shaking with fear of what I’d say if he asked another question.

He’d stared at me for a beat, then two, and went to his room.

Hearing the name Jordan today, seeing that very same man in flesh and bone, a man who I’d obviously known years ago, a man who was responsible for my son’s middle name—yeah, my kid wasn’t an idiot.

“Freaking Cheerios,” I muttered and went to the pictures hanging on the walls. They were shaking from the bass of Toby’s music. Might as well pack them before they crashed to the floor.

I’d give him time to settle. We’d eat. After, I’d tell him everything I could.

Then, I’d ask him what he wanted once he had all the information. He was old enough to have some say.

“Only you, Destiny. Only you would get yourself into this dumbass, stupid and horrific situation.”

My phone rang on the coffee table, but I ignored it. There were only two people who would call me. My boss and friend, Allison, who ran the graphic design firm where we’d become friends years ago, or Paul. We dated for three years and I had only recently broken up with him.

Shortly before Tillie died, she called me and told me she knew my heart wasn’t with him. To let him go. That life was too short to live safely and not fully in love with the man you had at your side. I’d argued with her, but I hadn’t been able to get it out of my mind.

Then, everything made sense once she was gone. She’d been wrapping up loose ends, knowing the end was coming for her and she’d never hinted at it. The truth of what she’d said, why she said it, and what I was doing hit me within days after I got the call from Pastor Emmerson letting me know she was gone.

Only I would be so selfish as to hang on to a guy I knew I wouldn’t marry. It wasn’t because I didn’t love him. I did. He was strong and stable. He loved Toby. Hell, he’d coached his basketball team one year. He was a major fixture in our life and I wanted to keep him.

I just didn’t love him enough to marry him, and I could never tell him the reason was because when I dreamed of my wedding, it was never him I envisioned walking toward.

He was such a good guy, that even after he found out about Tillie’s death, he’d called and asked to come with us, to be there for me. To be there for Toby. I hadn’t been blind to the pain and disappointment in his eyes when I told him no thank you.

God freaking damn it. I was rotten.

Everything Jordan had said to me was true.

I had grown up and turned into my mother, minus the drug addiction and child abandonment. But I certainly had her selfishness and self-destructive patterns nailed to a T.

* * *

I’d finished boxing up the photos and chicken parmesan was baking in the oven. All of the pictures were going into storage except a small handful of my favorite photos of Tillie and me when I was younger, and the prom picture I couldn’t bring myself to toss into the trash.

I wrapped a serving platter in newspaper and stuffed that into the bottom of a new box, figuring I should pack up the kitchen since I was in there anyway.

Three years ago, I had all new appliances delivered to Tillie for her Christmas present. I’d been thoughtful, choosing mid-line, white appliances instead of the high-end stainless steel ones I’d wanted her to have. When it came to Tillie, I wanted her to have the best. Yet I knew she’d think that was frivolous and unnecessary.

When it came to Tillie though, nothing was frivolous. I owed her everything. I owed her my life considering she took me in and raised me after my mom abandoned me in our dilapidated apartment, strapped into a car seat with nothing more than a small package of diapers and enough formula to last for one more feeding.

If I could have updated the mustard-colored Formica countertops circa 1975 with granite or marble, I would have done that for her too, but she’d insisted what she had worked for her. I’d pushed my luck with the appliances, so I held back.

That was going to be her Christmas present this year.

I sniffed away the emotions brought by that thought and pressed my palms into the countertop. She taught me all about baking and cooking in that very same spot, and as I closed my eyes, memories of me as a little girl, coming home with my hair pulled out of my braids and tears running down my cheeks assaulted me.

“It’s stupid. Girls are stupid.”

“Tell me all about it. But don’t say stupid. Name-calling isn’t nice.”

I sniffed again, flinching as Grandma rubbed alcohol on my skinned knees. Girls were stupid. At least the ones I knew were. Grandma Tillie wasn’t so bad, though. “My name is stupid, too.”

She blew on my knees and like always, the sting burned worse before it got better. “Your mama gave you that name because she knew you were destined for great things, girl. Take hold of that and live it.”

“The girls say their mamas say I’m destined to end up like Mama. That’s why she gave me that, so everyone would always know I’m gonna be like her.”

“You ain’t ever going to be like your mama, sweetheart.” Her cool hands pressed to my cheeks. “Your mama had problems she couldn’t beat, and it’s too bad because she’s missing out. But I was there the day you were born and when she named you. She looked at you and kissed your forehead and she had said, ‘I want my girl to be everything I’m not. That’s her destiny.’ So you see, she loved you more than anything.”

“Then why’d she leave?”

Like always when I asked about Mama, Grandma’s lips thinned. “Some problems take strength and your mama never thought she had it. But you do, sweetheart. You’ve got all the strength inside of you to live like she wanted. No matter how hard it is, you don’t ever give up, okay?”

A loud knock on my front door, loud enough to rattle the windows, jolted me out of that memory and I spun, hurrying to the front door.

Upstairs, Toby’s music still blared even though I’d given him a twenty-minute warning on dinner.

Without looking, I gripped my hand on the knob and right as another pound hit the front door, I yanked it open.

And shit. I should have peeked.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Rebecca Marx shouted right in my face.

God, I couldn’t escape them. What next? His mom would be right behind probably, threatening me and trying to get me to take off like she’d always done.

My heart raced at Indy500 speeds and I blocked her way from getting inside. Rebecca was a couple years older than Jordan. The girls in her grade had been some of the meanest to me. Rebecca didn’t participate much, but she still made it clear she thought I was trash and not good enough for her brother. She’d also had no problems standing by and letting their torture happen. When Jordan and I started dating she’d stopped some of it, but only because it looked bad for Jordan. I was pretty certain the day I disappeared she and her mom threw one helluva celebration party.

The last thing I needed was Rebecca showing up at my door screaming in my face.

“He has a son? And you never told him? And you think you can bring him back here without letting any of us know and what? You’re going to steal off into the night again and not give my brother a chance to know his son? Do you know what he’s going to do when he finds out?”

“Jesus, Rebecca,” I whispered. I whipped my head in the direction of the stairs and cringed. She had to be shouting louder than Toby’s music. “Can you stop screaming?”

“Answer me!”

“How do you know?” She hadn’t been at the funeral. But shit… blood rushed from my face, chilling me to my bones. “Jordan—”

“He doesn’t know. I figured it out. He took a picture of your kid walking away from him. Only Jordan would be dumb enough to not realize that kid looks almost exactly like him.”

I stepped forward, pushing her back onto the porch and I closed the door behind me. Toby didn’t need to hear this. Not before I talked to him. “Did you tell him?”

Rebecca had always been beautiful. All the Marxs were with their jet black hair, but where Jordan had these eyes that were so light blue they sometimes sparkled like glass, Rebecca’s were almost as black as her hair.

When she glared at me, like she did now, it was frightening. Her lip curled. “Not yet. But you’re going to or I will.”

“I know.” She opened her mouth, but I held up my palm. “I will, but I have to talk to Toby first.”

Tears filled her eyes and her chin wobbled. The sweetness of the look on her face almost made me cry. Damn it. I had royally screwed all of this up. “Toby? Toby is my nephew’s name?”

Shit. Her gaze went to the windows upstairs like she was searching for a glimpse of him and came back to mine. Her chin wobbled stronger. “I have a nephew.”

“Tobias Jordan,” I said, my own tears clogging my throat. “His friends call him Toby.” Sometimes TJ, but that wasn’t as common.

Her mouth formed the words, but no sound came out.

“Listen, Rebecca. I’m sorry. And I’ll make this right somehow. But I need to explain it to Toby first and see what he wants before I talk to Jordan. Can you give me some time?”

All emotion she showed evaporated in a blink. “He’ll want his family. Or at least he better, Destiny, because if I find out you took off with him again and are going to hide him from us, you are mistaken.”

“Rebecca—”

She turned on her heels, holding up her hand. “You can have until tomorrow, but then I’m telling Jordan.”

She ran down the driveway, hopped into a silver truck and took off.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

The door behind me opened and Toby glared at me. He was shooting daggers out of icy eyes exactly like his father did earlier.

I pressed the palms of my hands to my forehead and groaned.

“Who was that?”

It was time. Do or die. Sink or swim. Time to completely blow up my precious son’s little life. Putting the final nail in my coffin where I unequivocally earned the title of Worst Mom in the World seemed like a fun way to end the worst day ever.

“Let’s go inside,” I said, my shoulders falling with the weight of everything that was bound to come at us. I pulled open the screen door. “I’ll explain everything.”

Toby’s gaze went behind me. “Who was that woman?”

Several moments passed.

God give me strength and not have him run upstairs and slam his door again.

“That was Jordan’s sister.” My voice was so soft I barely heard myself. His icy glare slid to me and his jaw tightened. “That was Rebecca. Your aunt. Can we go sit down and talk?”