Chapter 10
A routine develops where Daniel comes over to work on the yard or fix something in this monster of a house, since something is always breaking, and then stays for dinner. He uses my shower, while I make dinner and then we watch really bad reality television.
Today’s no different, except that he brought me tacos from my favorite local Mexican place, and I wasn't expecting him tonight. Luckily, I was only planning on making myself a salad. I’m going to start slimming down this massive mommy butt. Watching sweat trickle down Daniel’s back each day has inspired me. Which is good, because it coincides with my mother's force-Genevieve-to-find-a-man plan. She told me all about it when she picked up CJ for the night. She scolded me thoroughly, told me that it was time to lose the thunder-thighs, and walked back down the walk, side by side with my boy, his little fingers wrapped around her pinky.
But, after the emotional assault, I was much more interested in what Daniel brought. Who wants a salad when there’s a taco and a burrito with my name on them?
We eat in companionable silence. But, noticing how quiet I am from the fight with my mom, Daniel starts to tease me lightly when we begin cleaning up.
"Here, let me help." Daniel laughs as he makes a move to grab the plates from my hands. Moving faster than I ever thought I could, I manage to keep them out of his grasp, but his arms end up almost around me.
I can't stop the giggle that bubbles up my throat. "No, really. It's okay. I've got it. You did dinner, I'll do the dishes."
"Don't be ridiculous." He’s grinning at me with a wonderful smile that makes me want to melt. "I didn't do anything. All I did was pick up the food."
"Really, it's okay. Go sit down and relax! I know how hot it was today, and you spent most of the afternoon outside in the sun." He watches me, but lets me get to the stove thinking that I've won.
Suddenly his hands are on my waist and he picks me up and moves me out of his way, before stepping into my place at the sink and handing me the dish towel. "You dry, I'll wash. Deal?" Still in shock at the way he just manhandled me, I don't respond. I stand with wide eyes, and my jaw dropped, for way too long before a giggly sound comes out of my mouth.
Jabbing a finger at the side of his face, I say, "You did NOT just do that! What the hell, Daniel? All thinking you can come into my house and toss me around like a rag doll." I'm trying to sound angry, but in reality the situation is so unreal that I can't decide if I want to stomp my foot or laugh out loud. The mischievous grin on his face makes the decision for me, and I bust out laughing.
He looks up at me from under his lashes and warmth pools in my stomach. “You are anything but a rag doll.” As Daniel says it, he reaches over like he's going to cup my cheek, but instead he drags his cold, wet fingers down my throat, letting drops of cold water drip down my shirt and run between my breasts.
Jumping back, I shriek "Oh my God, that's COLD!" I can't believe he just dripped cold water down my shirt! But, one glance at the smirk on his face tells me that he's not finished yet. He's still standing in front of the sink, a glass full of water in his hand, and I back away slowly. My hands are straight out in front of me, in desperate supplication. "Oh, no. Don’t you dare!"
Daniel laughs and steps toward me, and in a rapid move, I’m wrapped in his arms with the cup of water tipped slightly above my head. “Your call, Genevieve. Who’s cleaning up dinner? The correct answer is, you are Daniel, the most awesome lawn man I’ve ever known.”
I burst out laughing. “Yeah, I’m not saying that.” He tips the cup of water and it begins to dribble down my neck. I gasp and add, “Screw that! I am doing the dishes, not you. So take your tight butt over to the couch and—”
Cutting me off, I can hear the laughter in his voice. “We can discuss my butt later, but you need a lesson in listening and I know just the thing.”
“Don’t you dare!” He’s still holding me tight, my back to his chest. I struggle to get away, just going through the motions. I’m laughing so hard that I’ll probably fall on the floor anyway.
“Say it!”
“No!” I laugh and he dribbles more of the water down the front of my shirt. That’s when I fight him for the cup and seriously lose. He dumps the rest of the water right over my head.
It drips off the edge of my nose, and my hair is stuck to my face. My shirt is totally soaked and sticking to me like a second skin. I stand there, shoulders hunched, breathing hard. “You’re going to regret that.”
Darting out of the kitchen, I run to the bathroom, ignoring the makeup running down my cheeks. I lock the door and fill CJ’s bath bucket with cold water from the tub.
Pressing my ear to the door, I listen for any sound that will let me know if Daniel's standing in the hall, but it's dead silent. After waiting a few more minutes, just to be sure, I start to open the door. Before I can even peek through the crack, I'm pushed backwards by Daniel, and bump against the sink. This close to me, I realize just how tall he really is. I have to tip my head back to look him in the eye, and when I do he grabs the bucket from me and holds it above my head.
Just before he tips it over, there's a loud CRASH from the other room. We both stare at each other, eyes wide, for just a second before racing toward the sound. I know it's not CJ because he's with mom, but I can't think of anything that could have made such a huge crash.
We practically skid into the dining room and my hands fly up to cover my mouth. The beautiful antique chandelier is lying, shattered, on top of the dining room table. The floor is covered in shattered glass and crystal.
"Be careful!" My voice breaks with the emotions I can barely keep inside. There isn't anywhere in this house that doesn't have a memory of my husband. This chandelier was what drew us to the house, and now it's gone, just like he is.
Daniel picks his way around all the broken crystal while I run to get a broom and dustpan to sweep it all up. It physically hurts each time I have to empty the dustpan into the trashcan. It's silly, but it feels like I'm getting rid of another memory of Cade. I start to cry, and god, I'm so tired of crying. I’m transforming into a weepy mess, the opposite of the girl I want Daniel to see.
"Oh, baby, I’m so sorry," he says, coming over to hold me in his strong embrace. Clutching his shirt, I let the tears fall freely even though I know I'll regret it when I'm alone later. I don't even register the endearment he used. Daniel rubs my back, murmuring things I can't make out in an attempt to comfort me. When I finally stop crying, I'm mortified that his light grey shirt is soaked through with my tears. I have got to stop turning into an emotional basket case, especially when he's around.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, dropping my head in my hands and wishing I could take back the last five minutes. Of course, I got to be in his arms, so I don't really want to take them back. It's a vicious cycle of want versus guilt and it sucks. I want Dan, but I miss Cade. I don’t know how to sort out the two feelings. Wanting Daniel makes the guilt practically choke me.
Daniel puts his hand under my chin, tipping my head back so that I'm forced to meet his eyes. "Stop that. You don't have anything to be sorry for." He looks uncertain suddenly, but I understand why at his next words. "Do you want to talk about it though? I promise I'm a pretty great listener." His smile is one of my favorite things, and I never can say no to it.
"It's silly, really." He raises an eyebrow, and I know he's saying to tell him anyway, even though he doesn't speak a word. "Okay, fine," I huff when he doesn't give me the out I was hoping for. Or maybe I wasn't hoping for it. F*ck my life. I have no idea. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Daniel just smiles warmly, waiting.
"It's just that when we first saw this house, that chandelier was the thing that really sold it to us. I thought it was beautiful, and Cade wanted me to have whatever I wanted. Even when we made plans to do renovations and redecorate the house, we left the chandelier alone. We didn't make it to this room before his last deployment, only getting to the kitchen, the living room, and our bedroom. I haven't been able to bring myself to make any changes to this room because I have so many memories of him here."
A wistful smile spreads across my face as I remember. "The first night we were actually the owners, Cade set up a picnic in here. He had the gingham blanket, the picnic basket, champagne, and so many different finger foods. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. It's just hard, you know? I know it's only a light fixture—a thing—but it was attached to so many good times and now it’s gone, too. I feel like the objects he touched will all be gone and every memory I have will vanish." I offer a weak smile and sigh.
Daniel's face is full of compassion when he pulls me into him again. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, Genevieve. You're the strongest person I know." I snort into his shirt because I know he's just trying to make me feel better. Grasping me by my shoulders, he pulls me away from him and frowns down at me. "What was that about?"
"You and your silly questions. Dan, I'm not strong, and you don't need to pretend that I am." I shrug, trying to keep my voice light when really I want to snap at him. "I'm a lot of things, but strong? That's not one of them."
His eyes widen when he realizes I'm serious. "Genevieve, you've been through so much in the past few years: your husband deployed; you found out you were pregnant after having tried for so long; your husband died; you went through your pregnancy alone and raise your son by yourself every day. You’ve survived all of that, plus your mother.” That makes me smile. Dan’s gaze is burning with his intensity. “You're so much stronger than you realize. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're f*cking amazing. I'm proud to be able to say I know you, and I know Cade was proud to call you his wife."
"You really are the sweetest guy ever," I tell him, unable to tear my eyes away from his. His hand trails up my throat to cup my cheek, and I think he's going to kiss me. Am I ready for him to kiss me? I don't know if I'm up to taking that step, with him or anyone else. But the thought of his lips on mine makes butterflies swirl in my stomach.
He must see the hesitation on my face, because I was certain he was going to put his lips on mine. Instead, he presses them to my forehead in a kiss that is much more like the kiss a friend would give me. I'm shocked by just how disappointed I am that he didn't actually kiss me. He’s just a friend. I’ve been over this in my head a million times. I’m the one misreading his kindness as something more. He doesn’t like me that way, why would he?
After the water fight, the broken light fixture—I'm refusing to refer to it as a chandelier in order to keep my sanity—the crying, and the heavy conversation, I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. Daniel notices and says his goodbye, standing on the porch until I lock the door behind him. I shut off the lights on my way up to bed, fall face first into my bed, and am instantly asleep, dreaming of kisses that didn't happen and light fixtures shattering around me.