Chapter Twelve
After weeks of using Bruno as a messenger between her and her parents, Joy woke up early on Easter morning knowing where to find one of them. Ducking in the back of the church, she scanned the parishioners until she spotted her mother’s poufy platinum hair.
Once the service ended and everyone filed out, she stepped in line behind her mother, tugging gingerly on the woman’s elbow to get her attention like she’d done as a child.
Sophia whipped around, feisty fists clenched. “Get your meat hooks off m—Oh, God, Joy, you scared the hel—” She slapped her palm over her mouth, then made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer for forgiveness. “What’re you doing here?”
Joy had no fight left in her; she’d been wrung dry. When she wasn’t tending to Tristan and his flu, she’d been plotting this reunion, praying it worked, knowing any success or failure would fall on her. She didn’t return to Scenic View to be closer to her parents only to wind up avoiding them. With nothing left to lose, and the most apologetic smile she could summon, she put out her arms and hoped for the best. “Hi, Ma. Happy Easter.”
As quick as her mother’s expression brightened at the unexpected sight of her estranged daughter, the corners of her mouth fell fast as if every bad memory came rushing back. What’s wrong? was written in the soft creases of her aging face.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Joy put up her palms. See—nothing to hide. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just…miss you. And Daddy. How’s he doing?”
Sophia’s left eyebrow lifted in doubt, weighing her daughter’s words. “Your father’s the same. Sleeps late on Sundays. Eats too much cheese despite what the doctor says. He worries more about you than his own health. We both do. And don’t tell us not to—it’s what we do best.”
Standing in the presence of all that is Holy must’ve changed her mother’s tune because before Joy had to plead for forgiveness as she was prepared to do, on more levels than she could fit in a single breath, Sophia grabbed her daughter’s hand and squeezed, not letting go. “Did you eat? Let’s go to the diner for eggs Benedict. My treat. Wait—you don’t eat meat.”
Even though Joy’s appetite was already sated after devouring lemon Greek yogurt topped with blueberries at Tristan’s, she didn’t mention it. Instead she sighed a thank you to God and let her mother lead the way, two blocks down on Main Street. “It’s okay, Ma. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“So…” Over their second cup of coffee, Sophia tapped her pointy red nails on the Formica as she broached the sensitive subject Joy’d been expecting. “Are you going to invite me over to see your place?”
“Sure.” Joy smiled. Poised and prepared, she’d already prepped Tristan on the possibility of giving her mother the grand tour of her place, omitting any facts about a male roommate.
“Is this your new car?” Sophia wrinkled her nose at the tailgate mobile parked in the lot behind the barbershop, drawing admiration from three college hunks jogging in a line.
Without letting her mother’s distaste play on her nerves, Joy nodded. “Well, it’s not brand new, but it’s new to me. I think the boys’ll love it. Plenty of room for them and their stuff. More practical than the Jaguar.”
Sophia shrugged then climbed in. To keep small talk at a minimum, Joy took the shortcut with a lead foot.
When they pulled into Tristan’s driveway, Sophia clucked her tongue and shook her head in disgust at the eyesore next door, where Nick’s crew unloaded building material and tools from the silver pickup truck into the single-car garage. Tristan was over there, somewhere. This was his new job site for the next month or so, since he’d convinced Nick to let Joy rent the property once it was up to code.
As excited as she was to tell her mother about the arrangement, it was too soon to raise anyone’s hopes, especially her own. Besides—after learning the hard way to never get her heart set on anything in this life—it was a good idea to keep Plan B in her back pocket, just in case…
“Tsk…what a sin.” Sophia couldn’t tear her attention away from the wreck, even as she followed Joy to the front door of Tristan’s pretty little cottage. “It didn’t look like that when your father and I owned it, that’s for sure. Such a shame no one took care of it.”
Before her mother got the nutty idea of going next door to check out the damage up close, Joy rushed inside where two fur-balls charged down the hallway, yipping in unison.
“Geez, Joy, you didn’t get another dog, did you?”
“Cookie’s not mine. I found her in the yard the other day.” Premeditating the lie made the words fall out without flinching. “I called the phone number on her collar, but no one’s gotten back to me. She’s been keeping Rex company while I’m at work. Isn’t she sweet?” Joy picked up two plush toys and flung them toward the master bedroom, enticing the pups to scram, knowing her mother would detour in the opposite direction of the animals.
“Hmmm…” Sophia’s gaze bounced around the stark walls of the small living room with a flat smile that matched her unreadable tone, as enthused as a crime scene investigator. The floor plan was similar to the Barbieri’s old home but brought up to date with an earthy palette, raised panel doors, hardwood floors, and a gas fireplace.
“Lily’s husband got this as a foreclosure and fixed it up as a rental.” While Joy hung her keys and cardigan on the hook by the door like she’s lived here forever, Sophia inched toward the kitchen.
“Looks good.” Her mother nodded. “It came furnished and everything?”
“Uhhh…yeah.” While filling the kettle with cold tap water and setting it on the stovetop to boil, Joy ran through the sketchy story in her head before opening her mouth. “The…uh…previous tenants moved out-of-state.” She shrugged, adding a dash of drama to the mystery. “I guess it was easier to buy new stuff than take it with them.”
From across the side yard, the clamor resonated from the open windows. Deep voices shouted over the din of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s dueling guitar solo, a whining circular saw, and vigorous hammers pounding out of sync. All good sounds indicating progress being made was music to Joy’s ears.
With a regret-laden sigh, Sophia peeked between the kitchen curtains at the dilapidated Cape next door. “I’m sorry I let your father sell that house. But he wanted to downsize. Does Lily’s husband own that too?”
“Yep.” To avoid saying too much on the subject, Joy bit her tongue and kept busy setting teacups, saucers, spoons, and sugar on the breakfast bar, listening to her mother ramble.
“Is your new friend, Whatshisname, the handyman, fixing it up?” The way Sophia spat the words, Joy wasn’t sure what bothered her mother more: that he was a carpenter? Or a man, in general?
“You mean Tristan? Uh-huh.” She nodded, unaffected, folding paper napkins into perfect triangles.
“Did you ask if you can rent it when it’s finished?” Sophia slid a sideways glance at Joy.
“No.” Joy paused before pulling the screaming kettle off the heat, twisting her face at the absurd suggestion despite it already being in motion. “That house is going up for sale,” she lied as she poured scalding water with a steady hand.
“You’ve got a job now. Maybe you could buy it?”
“Owning a house is a lot of work, Ma. Renting is more my speed. Plus I don’t have that kind of cash. If I did, I’d probably look into buying Lorraine’s Christmas Shoppe.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Owning a business is more work than working for someone else—trust me when I tell you. Your father started out working at his uncle’s shop before deciding to open his own. It did well for a long time. But you know, times change. Men go to spas and salons now like women. That’s why Bruno’s here—to help Bob’s Barbershop get with the twenty-first century.”
“Why doesn’t Daddy just sell it and retire?”
“That’s what I tell him.” Sophia waved her hand, dismissing the thought. “But he says he’s not ready yet. It was Bruno’s idea to change the name to Bellas & Fellas to draw a new clientele.”
“Bob’s Barbershop is a landmark.”
“I know it. You know it. Everyone in town knows it. But if your father wants to keep the business alive, he’s gotta make changes. It’s a gamble, but modernizing it and adding day-spa appeal should draw the Scenic View Inn guests and the wine-tasting tourists passing through town. That’s why your father’s been cranky lately—he’s worked so hard for so long to put his name on something, and your cousin came along and convinced him to change it.”
“Change isn’t always a bad thing.”
“I know.” Sophia sighed and rested her chin on prayer-hands. “If it works out, it’ll be more money for everyone. Then your father could quit his crazy obsession with hitting the lottery. Still, I think his feelings are hurt that his name is coming off the building.”
“And, as if you don’t have enough going on, I show up out of the blue, tell you I’m divorced, and ask to move in.”
“Yeah, there’s that element of surprise we weren’t expecting.”
“I should’ve told you when it was happening, but…I was afraid of disappointing you again.”
“We love you, although we may not agree with all your choices. You’re a mother—you’ve got to understand wanting the best for your children. Honestly, I never liked Victor. I only pretended to because you were already pregnant.”
“You knew?”
“Are you kidding?” Sophia reached across the counter and squeezed Joy’s hand. “Of course I knew. We saw you at graduation and I knew, but I didn’t tell your father because he’d get upset. A mother always knows. But when there was no baby, I figured something must’ve gone wrong. You didn’t say anything, so I didn’t say anything.”
“I lost that baby, but I still married him anyway. I lied about eloping. About being pregnant. About the divorce. I’m a liar. How do you stand me?”
“Sometimes we lie because we think we’re protecting the ones we love from a painful truth they can’t handle.” The lines in her mother’s face softened. “More often than not, we lie to protect our self because we can’t handle the fallout. Mistakes hurt. Admitting you made a mistake hurts even more. If you never make a mistake, you’ll never grow. No one is perfect. The key is to learn from the mistake and move on. Do better next time. That’s all anyone can hope for.”
Joy nodded, absorbing the wisdom. When was the last time she spoke to her mother like adults? Never.
“I admit…” Sophia sighed as she rolled a piece of the napkin between her fingers, turning it into a paper thread and tying it into a tiny knot. “My first reaction isn’t always pretty, so I can understand why you might’ve omitted a few details.”
Squelching the urge to cry at her mother’s sincere words, Joy swallowed the lump in her throat with a gulp of sweet tea. “I’m such a disappointment to you and Daddy. I ruin every good thing I touch.”
“That’s not true. I’ve always been proud of you. You just lived so far away you couldn’t see it. And my voice doesn’t translate well over the telephone.”
“I should have been honest with you.” Tears erupted, hard and fast, in an emotional cocktail of shame and redemption, but Joy stifled them.
“Forget about it. That’s in the past. I’m over it already.” Sophia handed her daughter a clean napkin. “Maybe you did me a favor keeping your secrets to yourself. For years, I lived in bliss, figuring your life must be perfect since I hardly heard from you, never mind hear you complain. But now, knowing how much you suffered, I want to choke your ex-husband for ruining your life.”
“He hurt me, but he didn’t wreck my life. He gave me two beautiful babies. I wouldn’t have them if it weren’t for Victor. I just wish they loved me.” Joy buried her face in the napkin; she’d need a roll of paper towels to blot this wet mess.
Sophia hopped down from the stool to console her daughter. “You’re a good mother, Joy. Of course they love you. What’s not to love? You learned from the best.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Joy halted her tears long enough to smile. She held her mother tight, like holding onto a memory she never wanted to forget, burning this moment into her brain—her mother loved her, her mother was proud of her.
“So…” Sophia wiggled free to pour another round of tea. “You really wanna buy Lorraine’s store?”
“She says she wants to sell it one of these days, but I’m not sure how serious she is. We talked about it in passing, and she mentioned holding the loan and I’d just pay it off. I figure if I bought the business first it would help me afford a house down the line.”
“Whatever makes you happy.” Sophia scooped sugar into her teacup and stirred slow, in awkward silence. “By the way…” She tapped the spoon against the brim before setting it on the saucer. “I didn’t really mind your friend…Christian.”
“Tristan.”
“Yeah, him. He seemed like a nice guy. And if he’s friends with Lily’s husband and helped you get this rental, he can’t be that bad.”
“Daddy didn’t like him.”
“Don’t worry about your father. He worries about you more because you’re his only daughter—your brothers can take care of themselves. A father and daughter have a special bond. I’m sure he’ll warm up to Tristan once he’s over the shock of your divorce.”
Joy felt better having her mother on her side for a change, although her confidence still wavered. “Ma…” Her heartbeat stalled as she hesitated in making a split-second bad decision that had her mouth moving quicker than her gut instinct. “I wanna be honest with you. This is Tristan’s house. I’m staying here, with him, until the house next door is ready.”
“What?” Sophia’s eyes widened. “You two are living together?” Instead of screeching an octave higher as usual, her tone dropped to a rational whisper. “You just met. You hardly know him.”
“Yes. But…” Joy held her breath.
“Look…” Sophia put her palm up. “You’re a grown woman. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me the truth about things like this. Just, please, don’t tell your father. I’ll fill him in when I think he can handle it.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
“He’s really fixing up the house for you?” Intrigue in Sophia’s voice gave Joy new hope.
She nodded. “Lily’s husband bought it from the bank as an investment. He was planning to sell it but said I could rent it until I get my finances in order.”
Sophia bit her fist as if she might cry. “I can’t believe your getting our family’s house back. Your father will…” She pulled a hanky from her sweater pocket and dabbed the tip of her nose. “Your father will be so happy. I know he regrets selling it as much as I do. We were always so happy in that house. Your boys will be happy there, too.”
“I hope so.”
****
When Joy returned to Tristan’s place after dropping off her mother at home, the open garage door piqued her curiosity. Before she could step inside to sneak a peek, Tristan emerged, wearing goggles and gloves, carrying a long board.
“Hey, sunshine. Don’t you look as pretty as an Easter egg. Stand back. Don’t want ya to get dirty.” He flicked a switch on the worktable that started the circular saw whirring and fed the wood to the blade at the pencil mark, sending sawdust flying. A short piece hit the driveway with a thud and he turned off the machine.
“Almost done?”
Tristan pulled up the goggles to his hair, wiped his face with a bandana from his back pocket. “With the job? Or for today?”
“Both.” There was no way the house could be done yet, could it?
“Soon.” He pulled off his gloves and wiped his palms on the thighs of his faded jeans. “Couple things to do before I quit for the day. Should be finished by the middle of May if nothing gets in the way.”
“The guys left?”
“I sent them home after your mother left.”
“Sooo… Can I…uh…” She nodded toward the garage door. “Have a little look-see?”
“Not yet.” His broad body blocked her view of the dark interior, cluttered with mystery materials and unidentifiable tools. “How’d it go with your mom?”
When Joy warned him a week ago about her peace offering plot and the possibility of inviting her mother to see her new place, Tristan agreed to stay away, which worked out perfect since the crew didn’t mind putting in a few hours on a holiday after Nick offered to pay them double time.
“Well…” Joy sighed. “She likes your house.”
Tristan cringed. “You told her?” He rubbed a hand down his dirty face. “Why?”
“I felt bad lying.”
His expression softened in sympathy as he nodded. “Did she flip out on you?”
“No. But she wants to keep my dad living in the land of perpetual bliss, so she told me not to mention we’re living together.”
“I can go along with that. But what if he shows up at the door?”
“Would you mind saying you’re visiting? Sorry to ask you to lie for me in your own home.”
“Look, I don’t wanna do it, but I will if I have to ’cause I don’t wanna upset your folks. And I don’t wanna see you get sick over all this. I’ll say and do whatever you want.” He put up his palms, surrendering to the story.
“Thanks for being so cool.” Joy tugged the front of his T-shirt, bringing him close enough to kiss—a little salty, but just as sweet as ever.
A drunken smile tilted one side of his tired face. “Why don’t you go on home. There’s a few things I wanna finish first. Then I’ll wash up and we can go to the diner for an early dinner. There’s wine chilling in the fridge.” Before she walked away, Tristan called her back. “Hey. I hid your Easter present so your mother wouldn’t find it.”
Her stomach fluttered at the thrill of receiving a gift. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten one, besides on Christmas and her birthday from her family. Despite her tiny heels sinking in the soil, Joy raced home, giddier than a little girl on an egg hunt.
Tristan didn’t give her a clue or a starting point, so she began in the kitchen, with the wine of course. After peeling off her shell pink jacket and draping it over the back of the stool, she warmed up her biceps, preparing to apply some muscle action with the cork screw. However when she looked in the refrigerator, the slim bottle was already open. “What a guy.”
Glug-glug-glug. With a shaky hand, Joy filled an oversized goblet to the brim and gulped it on her way to the living room. Rex and Cookie trailed behind, picking up toys, dragging them along. “We’re not playing now, pups. I’m looking for something.”
He didn’t say whether the gift was smaller than an egg or bigger than a basket. Still, with his uncluttered décor, it couldn’t be too hard to find—could it? For all she knew it could be hiding in plain sight.
She reached between the couch cushions. Shook out the blankets. Flipped throw pillows. Checked the entryway closet. And pulled out the six chairs tucked against the dining room table. Yet found nothing out of the ordinary.
The quest was harder than she expected. Was she even close? Hot? Cold? Getting warmer?
Joy narrowed her eyes as she scanned the space. “If I were an Easter present, where would I be?” She went back to the kitchen, ditched the glass, and grabbed the bottle by the neck.
Ah-ha. “The Christmas decorations.” Maybe he hid it downstairs in her hiding space, figuring she wouldn’t think of the obvious, but she was wrong. She took a swig as she checked the cup holder on the treadmill. Nothing. Behind the free weights. Nothing. Inside the dryer. Nothing.
Back upstairs, she checked the four corners of Nicole’s future bedroom. Still nothing.
Nothing in the bathrooms either.
She opened the walk-in closet in Tristan’s room. Looked high. Low. Then lifted a blanket…and there it was. As big as a laundry basket, wrapped in the familiar purple cellophane from Violet’s Valise. According to the card attached to the bow, he shopped online, which is handled by the warehouse rather than the local shop.
“That sneaky devil. He shouldn’t have.” But she was glad he did. Even with her employee discount, the prices were out of this frugal mom’s budget. After draining the last drop from the bottle, she set the basket on the bed and ripped into it.
The first thing she spied were two sets of shiny silver handcuffs just like Tristan’s real ones; definitely not part of VV’s catalog. There was also a set of the chintzy fuzzy red cuffs, the play-kind men thought women wanted. She tested the toy’s strength and the center link cracked like a pretzel.
“Junk.” She flung them over her shoulder and the dogs snatched them. “No, no, no. Not for you.” Cookie gave up hers easily while Rex bolted for the living room. Joy caught him and pried the splintered plastic from his fangs then nudged both pooches toward the hallway and shut the bedroom door.
Fishing around the purple paper grass, she dug out crystal earrings. Aww, he bought me jewelry too? When she held the dangling sparkles to her ears, she noticed the unusual clasps. Oh, wait… Not earrings—but nipple clamps? She might experiment with a little bondage, but no way would she consider putting her boobs in the itty-bitty titty vises. “Nice try, Casanova. I don’t think so.” However as the wine wove its way through her veins, Joy’s willpower wavered. “Okay…maybe…if he asks nicely.”
Sifting through layers of satin and lace, she pulled out the undergarments and measured them against her torso. Sheer nighties revealed more than they concealed. Crotchless panties and G-strings matched skimpy bras with cut-out cups. Beneath the clothing was a long-handled French tickler. An opalescent shell containing Ben-Wa balls. Honey-flavored body dust. And exotic massage oils.
As the full force of the booze kicked in, the room started to spin, yet it didn’t stop her from fighting her way out of the pale slacks, thin blouse, practical bra, and nude thong, and into a black teddy. Somehow she got twisted inside the fabric, and her head poked through the armhole. Dammit. Like an escape artist, she maneuvered out of the nightie without ripping the seams. On the second attempt, she got it right then checked her reflection. After a double-take with her double-vision, she crawled onto the bed and leaned back on the pillows propped up against the wooden slats of the headboard. She tested a few sultry poses before getting comfortable with arms stretched wide and legs curled to one side like a pin-up girl. Now all she needed was Tristan to find her like this.
What’s taking him so long? She sighed. Every minute felt like an hour. Holding the sex kitten position was harder than she calculated.
After nearly nodding off, a bright idea popped in her head—handcuffs; that ought to boost the fantasy to the next level. She pushed the arch of the metal circles until they clicked opened, then attached her left wrist to the headboard. Sooo easy.
All she had to do now was attach the second set of cuffs dangling from the headboard to her other wrist, only it was too awkward to operate singlehandedly.
Humph. Maybe I should start over?
Joy strained to grab the key on the bed, tugging the blanket to drag it closer, but instead sent it flying into the air. It bounced off the wall with a clink and landed in the abyss of the shag carpet. Even if she could see it, she couldn’t reach it now.
Maybe if she rolled onto her stomach she could stretch her leg far enough to find it with her toes? But the more she fought against the handcuffs, the more she realized it was a bad idea.
There was nothing left to do but wait for Tristan to rescue her from herself.
****
Joy jolted at the sound of her snoring, unable to sit upright with one numb arm locked to the headboard. The bedroom was dark like the sky outside the window. Either Tristan wasn’t home yet or he hadn’t bothered to look for her.
Then the jangle of keys hit the entry table.
Thank God. Tempted to shout his name, she bit her lip instead. After the trouble getting into this predicament, she might as well finish what she started. She shoved the web of hair out of her sleepy eyes and stifled a giggle.
“Don’t tell me you got another dog?” said an unfamiliar feminine voice.
Shit. Joy rolled away from the door, as far off the mattress as she could, which wasn’t very with one arm attached to it. Gnawing off her hand at the wrist suddenly seemed more appealing than being caught like this. Heavy work boots aimed toward the kitchen, followed by a second set of sharp heels. Who the hell could it be?
“Never mind the dog. I asked you to call before coming—didn’t I?” Tristan’s voice vibrated through the wall.
“I left a message on your cellphone. It’s not my fault you didn’t get it.”
“You shoulda waited ’til I called you back.”
“I couldn’t. We’re leaving earlier than expected to catch the tulips blooming in Holland. Tell me again, how you were lucky enough to find a housekeeper who doubles as a nanny?”
“Through a friend,” Tristan lied.
“Are you sleeping with her?” A toe tapped nonstop like Morse code.
“It’s none of your business what I do. And who I do it with,” he huffed.
“It is my business if you think I’m gonna let Nicole live here for six months while you bone the babysitter under the same roof. I’m her mother—I have a right to know who comes in and out of this house.”
Stacy’s here. Joy cringed, praying the footsteps would lead toward the front door.
“Have I ever asked you twenty questions about your life?” he said.
“No.”
“Then stop busting chops about mine.”
“Is that her jacket? She gets kinda dressed up for housecleaning, dontcha think?”
Joy wanted to die. She clenched the blanket in a fist and whipped it over her body like a burrito.
“Uhh, yeah…” Tristan hesitated. “That’s hers. So, what? It’s Easter—she went to church before coming. She must’ve forgotten it here.”
“I can tell when you’re lying. She’s your girlfriend, and you just don’t want me to know.”
“You’re backpacking across Europe with your man-child lover. Why do you care what I do?”
“I don’t. I’m concerned about my daughter being around some random slut.”
“Quit worrying. She’s gonna be just fine with me. The place is perfectly safe as you can see. A regular home sweet home.”
“I’d feel more comfortable if I had a look around.”
“Let’s start in the basement. I’m gonna convert it into a playroom.”
“Nicole will love that.” Stacy’s footsteps faded as she followed Tristan, but they were back soon enough.
“First door on the right is bathroom,” he said.
“Mind if I use it?”
“Knock yourself out.”
When she was sure it was safe, Joy took a chance and whispered, “Tristan.”
The bedroom door opened a crack and he poked his head inside. “Why are you hiding?” He flicked on the light switch.
Buried in the blanket, she waggled her wrist, jingling the shiny metal bracelet.
“You did that to yourself?” He smirked.
“I thought it would be fun.” When the toilet flushed, she ducked under the covers.
“Don’t move.” Tristan shut the light and closed the door as another opened.
Trusting that he would protect her silly secret, Joy sighed and waited for this nightmare to end.
“This’ll be Nicole’s room,” he said. “The spare room will be an office.”
“And in here?” Fingernails tapped on the master bedroom’s door.
“My room.”
“Can I see?”
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“Forget it.”
“Just a peek.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “That’s all you get.”
The knob turned. Joy held her breath. Watching with one eye, she prayed the pillow blocking her hand didn’t slip out of place.
Tristan braced his arm across the doorframe, filtering out the stream of light that spilled across the bed. “See. Just an average bedroom. No biggie.”
“Turn on the light so I can have a better look.”
“Nope.” Tristan’s biceps held her back. “There’s nothing to see.”
“From what I can see, looks like a tornado swept through it. Your housekeeper sucks.”
The insult made Joy flinch, which caused the metal to pinch the soft part of her wrist. She exhaled a whimper that Tristan obscured with a sudden hacking cough.
“I didn’t hire her to clean my room. You oughta get your nose outta here ’cause I just got over the flu so it’s loaded with germs. You don’t wanna get sick for your trip.”
“You have a nice place—I’ll give ya that.”
“It’s not mine. It’s Nick’s rental.”
“So, you’re working full-time for him now?”
“Until I figure things out.”
“You were always good with your hands.” Joy heard the innuendo loaded in Stacy’s words; she wondered if Tristan noticed it too. “Don’t you miss being a cop?”
“Eh. Sometimes.”
“Are you happy?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m happy.”
“I mean, are you happier without me?” Stacy inched closer to him.
The last thing Joy wanted was to witness his ex-wife making a pass at him as he lingered protectively in the open doorway but she couldn’t look away.
Tristan blasted an audible breath through his nostrils. “Let’s not talk about the past.”
“Was it so bad when we were together?”
“You left me. Not just once. You left a few times.”
“But I always came back. You’re the one who filed for divorce.”
“And you’re the one who asked your uncle—the big, important judge—to push it to the top of the pile.”
“I know. It’s all my fault.”
“And it’s way too late.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Yes, it does. And it is. You’re going to Europe. Backpacking. With Whatshisface.”
Stacy sighed. “I just don’t know if Garret is the one for me. I think, maybe…you’ve been the one all along. I was too blinded—by motherhood and fantasies of what a marriage would be like—to see straight. That’s why I’m going with him—to see if we can last the trip without breaking up.”
“This isn’t the time or place for this conversation. And I’m definitely not the person you should be talking to.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Not my problem anymore. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
“Are you really sorry? Or are you just saying it to make me feel better?”
“Just saying it. And now I’m saying it’s time for you to leave.”
“I should have loved you right when I had the chance. Do you think we would’ve stayed together if I never left?”
“Who knows what might’ve happened. But it’s too late now. I just want my daughter—”
“Our daughter.” Stacy’s voice dropped an octave. The sliver of light between their silhouettes narrowed as she pressed herself against him, pushing his back to the door, swinging it wide open they almost fell through. “Just kiss me, Tristan. Kiss me, this way I can be sure it’s over. If I don’t feel anything then I know I made the right choice. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I have this sick feeling I made a huge mistake.”
“Kissing me would be the biggest mistake you could ever make.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m throwing myself at you.” Stacy’s voice cracked.
“I don’t wanna boot you outta here, but I will if I have to.”
“Let me guess, you’re still pissed I got half your pension in the divorce?”
“Forget the pension—you won’t see a penny until I retire, and trust me when I say I have every intention of staying on the job until I croak.”
“You bastard.” Stacy gasped as if shocked by his claim, no more surprised as Joy who had hoped there was a solid chance of him becoming a permanent resident of Scenic View.
“When you see your boyfriend, kiss him, and if it feels right then you know you made the right choice. If it doesn’t, then that’s your own fault. I’ll walk you to the car.” Tristan glanced over his shoulder then shut the bedroom door.