Chapter 9
"Hey, Baby Boy," I coo at CJ, smiling when he grins widely, showing off a few pearly baby teeth. About a week has passed since his fever last broke, and I'm so thankful he's better now. I don't ever want to feel so helpless again. Reaching down, I tickle his tummy lightly, loving his belly laugh. That sound warms my heart. We’re sitting on the back porch. CJ is sitting outside on a blanket and playing with trucks, while Daniel pushes the lawnmower across the grass.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve become keenly aware of the man Daniel has become—and it’s not just because he’s pushing a lawnmower around in my backyard, shirtless and glistening sweat, though that does help. The luster defines his muscles, like he was perfectly cast by the gods and shellacked to endure the ages. I'm sure it's not the first time I've seen him shirtless over the years, but, for the first time, I’m paying attention.
His shoulders are broad, with smooth tanned skin. There’s a scar on his upper right arm, a thin white gash that’s barely noticeable due to the tattoo that bands around his bicep in an old Celtic pattern. I wonder if he did it to hide the scar or for another reason. It’s high enough on his arm that his t-shirt usually covers it. His muscles bulge as he pushes the mower up an incline. My bottom lip is in my mouth and although I’m watching CJ out of the corner of my eye, I can’t rip my gaze from Daniel. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing a black Calvin Klein waistband. The heat and work make the denim damp and heavy. I’d asked him once why he wears jeans all the time when it’s a hundred degrees outside, but he just smiled and said something about getting shrapnel tossed at him from the mowers. I think there must be another scar on one of those legs, one that he doesn’t want people to see—one that he doesn’t want to discuss – and I can’t blame him. At least my scars are hidden when I’m not hysterically crying.
I glance down at my hand. I decided to move my wedding band, and only the band, to my right hand. The engagement ring is upstairs in my room. Cade may be gone, but it still means something to me, and that little piece of metal is filled with memories that I don’t want to forget. At the same time, things have changed. This little change is a tiny step forward, but it feels like a giant leap. We’d talked about getting an anniversary band, but that wasn’t supposed to be for another ten years. This ring wasn’t supposed to be on this hand now. I smile at a memory that pops up. It’s one of the first times that the sharp blast of colors and shadows isn’t accompanied by tears and remorse. Cade was a good man.
I glance up and can’t help but notice another good man standing right in front of me. When he’s around, I don’t feel the age difference between us, even though any onlooker could spot it in an instant. I don’t want to think about it. Right now, it looks like I’m outside with my baby while the guy takes care of the lawn. No one knows that he’s been taking care of me, that we’ve been texting, and then calling. Daniel has become a bright spot in my day and right now I can't pull my gaze away from the sight of him and that washboard stomach I felt against me when we were dancing. And he's out here broadcasting that beautiful body to anyone who comes by. He knows he looks good, and he definitely knows how to use what he's got.
It’s as if Daniel can feel the weight of my eyes on him, because he turns to look at me as he grabs the rag that's been pushed through a belt loop on his pants and proceeds to wipe the sweat off his brow. An image flashes through my mind, uncalled, but it bursts like a firework behind my eyes in a display of glory—I can see myself drawing the pad of my finger over those toned muscles, tracing the rises and falls of his chest down to his waist. I gasp and look away. Where did that come from? My face heats at the thought, I feel like the world's biggest creeper. When I have enough guts to glance up again, I expect him to scowl at me, but he must like whatever he sees on my face, because he smiles and flashes his bright teeth at me.
Why did I check him out? That’s what I just did, right? He’s too young! I want to smack myself in the head, but it’d be more obvious that I’m crazy, so I just sit there and smirk back. I’m such a creeper. And now that I’ve noticed him, I can’t undo it. I finally see him—all of him—and the splendid way his strong body gleams in the sun. Damn, it’s hot out here.
I seriously need to use Lanie’s present that’s been sitting unopened in the box until now. She bought me a vibrator as a happy six weeks postpartum present. Really, who does things like that? The girl is absolutely mental. But thoughts of Lanie vanish when Daniel looks up.
Our eyes lock, causing my stomach to dip as I watch his blue eyes darken from across the yard. It makes my heartbeat quicken and I want to squirm in my seat and press my thighs together, but I don’t dare move. He can’t know what I’m thinking. What the hell is wrong with me? I look away, but it doesn't help. No man has made me feel this way since Cade. It's been more than two years since I even thought about sex, let alone entertained thoughts of having it. Having your husband die suddenly, leaving you to raise a child by yourself, doesn't do great things for your libido. Not to mention, even thinking about doing that with someone other than Cade not only terrifies me, it makes me feel guilty.
Cade should be here. Cade should be the one I'm having these thoughts about. My husband, who is the complete opposite of Daniel, with his blonde hair and brown eyes. He was tall and slim whereas, Daniel isn't quite as tall, but is far more muscular. Cade was strong, there's no denying that, but he was strong in a lanky sort of way, where Daniel's muscles ripple appealingly as he moves.
Oh. My. So my libido isn’t dead after all. Things tingle and I feel way too hot as a stupid smile spreads across my mouth. I try to stop it, but I can’t, not when Dan’s around. Then, it dawns on me that all the calls, the texts—the way we’ve been flirting. Oh god, this whole time, I’ve liked Daniel and didn’t even notice. My brain didn’t think ahead, but that half naked body parading in front of me has pushed my thoughts to the next step. I’m attracted to the man. My lip quivers and drops slightly. How? When?
The realization shocks me to the core. I glance up at him again, and duck my head before he can notice. This feels like middle school. My pulse is pounding and my heart is slapping around in my chest like a wonky tire about to fly off the axle and go flying down the highway. How did I miss it? The way he makes me feel doesn’t put us in the friend zone, it’s more than that. I feel like a woman when he looks at me, and it makes me feel good. I like it when those blue eyes land on me and Daniel flashes that sexy grin my way. I try so hard to draw it out, and it takes so little for him to offer one.
Cade always said my eyes were the most expressive part of my body, and the last thing I need is for Daniel to know that I'm attracted to him. I’m sitting frozen, with worry pinching my face. This is wrong. My friends and family could not accept a relationship like this. I grab hold of my mental reins and yank them back, hard.
My inner voice, the one in the closet, sticks her lips under the crack in the door and says, It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t think of you that way, so it doesn’t matter. Stop freaking out.
Now I remember why I don’t listen to that part of me. She’s annoyingly right, and brutally honest. In this case, she’s totally right, and I calm down. I glance up at the sun, feeling the warm light on my face and smile as I let out a long breath of air.
Then everything goes to hell.
The lawnmower stops and the silence nearly knocks me out of my chair. Remember that crazy chick in middle school—the one that had a mad crush on a guy and hid in her locker when ever he walked by?—yeah, that was me. If I hadn’t just figured out that I was returning Dan’s friendship with a mad crush, I would have invited him in for a drink, but now I'm freakishly frantic to get the baby inside before he can make his way over.
Just as I reach for the door handle, I feel his heat at my back. I stiffen and freeze, feeling an icy chill drip down my spine. A flurry of thoughts flutter through my mind:
Touch me.
Don’t touch me.
I’m Cade’s.
I want to be yours.
You’re too young.
I’m too old.
He’s right there, you ass, stop acting like a child and say something!
"Genevieve?" his voice is full of questions I don't want to answer, so I force myself to stand still, facing the door. I can just barely see his reflection in the pane, the concerned frown on his face is obvious. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pray that he will take the silent hint and go away. I'm not that lucky though and there’s no way I’m telling him a thing. I’ll deny my feelings forever. I can’t lose his friendship, it’s too important to me. Why did I have to sit out here? If I didn’t realize the way I feel about him, this wouldn’t be all awkward and weird. I hoist CJ up higher on my hip and try to decide what to do.
Before I can make a decision, Daniel's hand brushes my arm. Then he takes my hand in his, forcing me around to face him. I'm eye level with his chest and the sight of all that tanned, glistening skin gets to me. Add in the hint of his cologne, mixed with the scent of freshly cut grass and something that's all him. It's intoxicating. I want to lean in and sniff him from his navel to his nose. The thought nearly makes me giggle, but I swallow it back. The result is a stern, gassy look. Wonderful, I look like I’m going to burp.
Dan’s hand lingers on mine for just a few seconds, and he offers a boyish smile. It makes me feel like I can fly. Energy that was gone comes surging back and in that instant I think I could run a marathon if it meant I could run into his arms at the finish line. God, I hope he can’t tell how much I like him. I take a steady breath and Daniel releases me, but even after he lets go, I can still feel the sensation of his fingers against mine.
Fake it. Fake it. Fake it. Pretend nothing changed. You can do it. Just turn around and say it. I spin on my heel. "Oh, hi Daniel," I say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. I fail miserably, my voice too breathy, like a phone sex operator. But, when I try to lift my chin it’s like it’s tied to the ground. I’m unable to look him in the eyes. It’ll give me away and I’m afraid he’ll run if he knows what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. What twenty-year-old guy wants an old widow with a baby drooling over him?
Daniel bends slightly, tipping his head, and bringing us eye to eye. The look on his face is understanding, like he knows what I'm thinking and it makes me tense a little more. "How's CJ today?" he asks, his concern completely genuine.
We talked last night, so he already knows, but I’m glad he cares enough to ask. I look down at my little man and answer, "He's much better." I try to smile reassuringly at Dan, but it falls flat. All I can think about is how he saw me, and everything in my life, at its worst. Come to think of it, that’s all he’s seen for a really long time. Some psycho-babbler said the status of your household reflects the inner status of your being. In explanation, my life has gone to hell and so has my living room. Dan’s seen it all. I’ve called him in tears and covered his shirt in snot. He probably thinks of me like a second mother or something. Meanwhile I can’t stop inhaling his scent. I look like a druggie who found the glue aisle.
Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I swing CJ around to my other hip. "Thank you for helping me the other night.” I smile, but it feels like someone tied my tongue in knots. “I appreciate the texts and the late night calls. Really, I don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you." The words are hard to say. I hate having to rely on anyone but myself, it makes me feel weak, like I've failed somehow. But, Daniel has never made me feel like that. I called him. We talked, and hearing his voice helped.
Daniel shrugs, as his cheeks turn pink. "No worries. It really wasn't a big deal. I'm glad I could help." He looks nervous now, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "Uh...Genevieve?"
"Please, call me Gen," I tell him, feeling much more confident now that he's so obviously unsure.
Clearing his throat, he nods. "Right. So, Gen, I was wondering..." The blush on his cheeks gets darker, and I'm really wondering what on earth he's trying to say. A streak of panic races through me. Is there toilet paper hanging from my pants? Do I have something gross on my face? Oh God, did CJ spit up on me and I missed it? But I stand there and smile dumbly, resisting the urge to look at whatever he’s trying to tell me is wrong.
Finally, his words rush out and it takes me a moment to decipher what it is he's asking. "Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? You and CJ...not a date or anything, just, uh, hanging out." He continues in a hurry, "We don't have to go anywhere. I could just pick up a pizza and maybe a movie or something?" The way his eyes dart between mine and the ground is adorable, and it sounds like he’s asking me on a date at first, until he very clearly clarifies.
At first, I'm too shocked to say anything. I just stand there with CJ on my hip and my jaw dropped.
My inner voice, Little Miss Logic, is beating the door with a broom, but I’m not letting her out. She yells inside my head, SAY SOMETHING!
Blinking, I snap myself out of it and smile. I look down at CJ to hide whatever expression is on my face. "Oh...I...I don't know what to say. Dinner? As friends?"
"Yeah," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I just, I really don't want to go home yet." Something in his voice tells me that his invitation is the equivalent to a late night text from me. Empathy shoots through me and I get it. He just wants some company for a while, and to avoid whatever’s bothering him.
That's definitely something I understand. "Okay, sounds great." Turning, I walk inside, before holding the door open and gesturing for him to come with me.
"Do you mind if I borrow your shower before we leave?" he asks sheepishly.
I shake my head. “Of course not. I’m sure you’ll feel better after you get all the grass and awesomeness off you.”
His dark brow lifts. “Awesomeness?” He tries not to laugh.
“Yeah,” I mutter, not knowing exactly where I was going with it. It kind of just popped out. Daniel with no clothes—more awesome than Daniel with clothes. Yeah, I should say that out loud and see how fast he takes off. I laugh it off. “I have mommy brains. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.”
He smiles at me for a moment. I can feel his gaze on my back as we walk through the house. I set CJ down in his playpen and pluck a set of towels from the closet and when I get ready to hand them over, Daniel holds up a finger.
"Thanks. One second, I have some extra clothes—let me just go grab them."
Nodding, I watch him jog down the stairs before letting the door shut. Looking down at my son, I see him watching me, his eyes bright. "I guess Daniel's having dinner with us tonight. What do you think about that little guy?" CJ grins, clapping his chubby little hands together so hard that he falls over. I can't help but smile. I rush over and help him sit up again, kissing the top of his head as I do.
When Daniel comes back inside, he’s running his hand through his hair. “I really appreciate this, Gen. I know you have things to do. Are you sure it’s okay?” He’s standing there, holding a gym bag in one hand, half naked in my foyer.
“Of course it’s all right. God knows I’ve bothered you enough times.” No! That came out wrong.
He steps toward me, his eyes locked on mine, his expression serious. “You’re never a bother. I’ve told you that a million times. But this—am I overstepping? I really don’t mind if you need space.”
“I don’t need space, why would you think that?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. The way you reacted before, it was unexpected—like you were disappointed.”
Fear sends cold tingles down my spine, but I cling to the smile on my lips like it’s a life raft. “Why would you think I was disappointed? Of course not! We love having you here.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
He’s a step away. I’m not sure how he got so close, but I’m suddenly aware of my loud breathing and I can’t remember how to breathe normally. He looks down at me, at my lips, and then lower. My heart slams into my ribs as pins and needles race through my arms. Is he going to kiss me? What the hell is he doing? My stomach flip flops, and when he offers me his boyish grin I melt. “Genevieve?”
“Yeah?” I feel half-drunk with a midlife crisis crush on the lawn boy.
“Can I have the towels, then?”
He’s been holding out his hand. Oh God, I misread him. I laugh nervously and shove them into his hands, dropping the washcloth on the floor. “Oh, right! We wouldn’t want you walking around naked, would we?” I stoop over to pick up the little cloth at the same time Daniel does and stumble backward, not expecting him there.
He reaches out, grabbing onto me before I fall. His eyes instantly lock on mine as he stops the fall and helps me stand, his slick body pressed to mine. “No, no one would want to see that.” He offers a half grin, an expression that I can’t read. He holds me a beat too long, but I don’t step away either. After a second he swears. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined your shirt.” He releases me and I look down. My oversized maternity shirt is covered in his sweat, grass, and some grease.
I just smile and tell him, “It’s fine. I needed to grab a new shirt anyway. CJ got it all messed up at lunch.”
He stands there for a moment. We both do. His gaze makes my stomach flip. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was wondering what’s under this shirt, but I know better. He’s using me as a hide-out to evade whatever unhappiness waits for him at home. “So, then, I’ll just be a second.”
“Sure.” I watch him disappear up the stairs and let out a huff of air that I didn’t realize I was holding. I’m so stupid. I’m acting like a thirteen-year-old. Then it hits me. Flip our ages around and that’s what this is like—my feelings for him are like him having feelings for a thirteen-year-old. I lean against the wall and run my hand through my messy hair, while looking down at CJ. “I just want a friend. That’s okay, right?”
CJ smiles happily, babbling to himself and then tries to shove a block in his mouth. I watch him, thinking too many thoughts for words. Pushing off the wall, I decide to grab a salad and set the table before Daniel comes out. I’ll change my shirt last, because with my luck, I’ll spill something all over it. After the table is set and the glasses are filled with ice, I put a few sodas on the table, before heading to the living room. Daniel is changing in my room, so I grab a shirt from the laundry basket, peel off the nasty one, and slip a new, clean shirt over my head. My back is to the staircase and I don’t hear anything until the landing creeks.
Whirling around, I see Daniel standing there with a lopsided grin.
Pointing a finger at him, wide-eyed, I scold him. “You did not just watch me change!”
He smiles and slips his hands into his pockets. His hair is still damp from the shower and I swear to God that he’s blushing under that gorgeous tan. “I did not just watch you change.”
I smirk and walk toward him. Laughing, I shove his chest. “Liar!”
He laughs with me, holding up his hands. “I swear to God, I didn’t see anything. I came down the stairs and when I looked up, you’d already pulled the shirt on. Besides, it’s not my fault. I didn’t expect to come down here and have you for dinner. I thought we were just friends.” He’s laughing now, smiling like he can’t stop.
“I’m not on the menu.”
He kicks the toe of his shoe on the floor. “Well, that’s too bad. It would have made an interesting evening.” His tone is light and teasing. For the life of me, I can’t tell if he’s serious or playing.
*****
With both of us cleaned up and feeling human again, we order a pizza and I make a salad so that I'll feel like I had a healthy dinner. Once the food arrives, we sit down at the table to eat. CJ is in his highchair, banging his spoon on the tray while we talk.
"So, why didn't you want to go home?" Maybe I’m prying, but I really want to know.
Daniel puts his slice of pizza down on the plate, looking like this is the last conversation he wants to have. When I start to take back my question though, he shakes his head, holding up a hand to stop me. "It's okay. I don't mind telling you, it's just not a happy story." He runs a hand through his still damp hair before telling me, "My dad isn't thrilled about my choices. He wants me to go work for him, to be a part of his company, and I really don't want to be stuck doing his bidding for the rest of my life. I want to make my own way and be my own boss. I thought he'd understand that, especially since he built his company by himself. But, instead, he's angry. It's a constant battle with him over my landscaping business. He’s adamant that I'll never make it. He’s waiting for me to crawl back to him and beg forgiveness when I fail. What he doesn't understand is that his constant bitching and yelling just makes me more determined to work harder to prove him wrong."
I stare at him, my mouth open. I never would have guessed this warm, friendly man is constantly being ridiculed by his father. But, I understand. Poking at a leaf of lettuce, I confess, "I know how it feels to have a parent treat you that way. My dad is awesome, but my mom... she is hypercritical of everything I do. When I got engaged, she told me we'd end up divorced in less than a year. When we moved away to another base, she told me I'd never be able to handle his deployments and it would split us apart. Each time she was wrong, it was like she'd take it as a personal slight and she'd be even more critical the next time."
"But when I lost Cade—I still don't understand why they say lost, it's not like I just misplaced him—I had just found out I was pregnant, and she was great. At least, she was at first. Then, she started complaining about what I was eating, how much I was eating, and before long she was back to criticizing everything. If I bought maternity clothes, they were too baggy, or they made me look frumpy.”
I laugh, and mimic her voice. “Genny, you need to find a man.” Dropping my mom act, I go on, “Like my life won't be good and full unless I have someone to take care of me. It's a complete one-eighty from the way she was while Cade was around. Back then it was all, ‘you're too young and you need to live your life before you get tied down.’ Now she acts like I'm a spinster that no one wants."
I don't even notice the few tears that started to trail down my cheeks, not until he uses his thumb to wipe them away. He doesn't immediately remove his hand, leaving it cupping my cheek. I can feel my face flush at the way he's looking at me. His eyes are studying me, and I begin to feel naked. Like he can see everything I'm thinking and feeling, like he understands me.
"No one should ever treat you that way," he says fervently, his voice full of conviction. "You deserve so much better than that, Genevieve." The earnest expression on his face is too much and I have to drop my eyes to break the connection.
I still feel his gaze like a caress against my skin, and combined with him touching my face, I want to crawl across the table and wrap myself in his arms. He makes me feel so many things that I never thought I'd feel again. The problem is, after two years alone, I have the self-awareness to know that while I want to be as close to him as possible, I'm also terrified of letting someone else in. I don't think I could deal with any kind of loss again. It's easier to stay alone, keeping my distance from everyone and bearing the steady ache in my chest to avoid even the possibility of going through the kind of pain I went through losing Cade.
With the weight of the conversation hanging between us, we come to an unspoken agreement to lighten the mood. Daniel drags me into the living room and pulls me onto the couch beside him. The television flips on and we spend the rest of the night watching some reality show. It’s about people who have had deep, loving, online relationships, only to find out that the person they thought they knew wasn't real at all. I'd never seen it before, but by the end of the night, I'm completely hooked. I'm also absolutely positive that online dating is not in my future. Sorry, Mom!