Chapter Fifteen
Tristan’s cell phone vibrated on the nightstand and he reached for it. With squinty eyes, he struggled to decipher the text message on the glowing screen. Maybe it’s time for reading glasses.
—going 2 work?—Nick wrote.
With Joy cradled in his other arm, he typed back one-handed with his thumb.
—maybe later—
—no prob. i’ll bring niblet home b4 dinner. have fun ;P—
Thank God he had a friend like Nick. No doubt his daughter was in good hands.
Thinking of good hands…Joy’s limp body stirred to life. Her warm palm cupped between his thighs and caressed his sleeping dragon, rousing the beast. The sudden sensation of her delicate, deliberate touch had his body humming.
“How ya feeling?” He curled her closer against his side.
“Pretty good.” Even with sleep still fresh on her face she was stunning. “How ’bout yourself?”
“I guess you can say I’m feeling pretty lucky.”
Joy propped up on her elbow and smiled down, licking her lips. “How ’bout I return the favor from last night? If you want.”
Tristan bit back a smile. “Oh, sunshine, I want.”
“I was hoping you would.” She threw the blanket over her head and wiggled between his knees, giving him the sweetest morning wakeup call a man could ask for.
Polishing his morning wood with her lovely little mouth felt like heaven and he had a hell of a time holding back from exploding too soon. Joy had a knack for knowing the right amount of suction, as her head bobbed to the rhythm of her stroking hand like a fine-tuned machine.
Unable to stand much more, Tristan covered his face with a pillow and bit hard on the softness to keep from bursting. He wanted to save it so they could finish together. After another minute of terrific torture, he reached down to pull her off, flipped her on her back and straddled her. “It’s that time again.”
“Ooh yesss…” she hissed.
Firmly in place with his erection in hand, ready to go for it…Joy’s cellphone rang.
Dammit. Tristan recognized the intrusive air raid siren that belonged to her good-for-nothing ex-husband, calling to mess with her head. Now the guy was messing with his moment and his orgasm.
Joy’s eyes widened. “I gotta take it. It could be my boys.”
Knowing how much it meant to her, he rolled off the bed to grab the cell from the dresser. “Sure you don’t wanna call him back later?”
“Please, Tristan.”
Unable to resist her plea, he pressed the speakerphone button as he handed it to her.
“Hello?” Her eyes locked on Tristan for moral support.
He squeezed her shoulder and whispered, “Be cool.”
“Joy?” Victor sounded surprised, as if hoping for her voicemail instead.
“The boys want to wish you a belated Happy Mother’s Day—”
“They do?”
“Yeah, but they just left for school, so I’ll have them call you later, after baseball practice. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
Joy shook her head, gnashed her teeth, then with a feistiness Tristan had never witnessed, she exploded. “Why the hell couldn’t you have my boys call me yesterday?”
“I totally forgot. We were busy. What’s the big deal?” Victor’s unsympathetic verbal slap made Tristan want to lunge through the phone.
“You were sooo busy?” Joy spat in disbelief. “On Mother’s Day? Really? Doing what?”
“We spent the day with Felicity’s family. On their boat. It’s more like a yacht,” Victor rambled as Joy’s eyes rolled up into her head so far Tristan got scared that she might be possessed. “No reason to get all pissy, Joy. I said they’ll call you later.”
“Why didn’t they send me a card at least?”
“You’re mad over a stupid card? God, you’re such a baby. Why don’t you grow up—”
Tristan grabbed the phone.
“Don’t, Tristan, please,” Joy squealed and buried her face in her hands.
“Listen, dude—” Fuming, he unleashed his bad cop. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Who is this?” Victor’s voice cracked.
“Never mind who I am. You’re the father of Joy’s children. It’s your responsibility to make sure they call their mother on Mother’s Day and to send the woman a card when they’re on your watch. You’re the one that ought to grow up and stop teaching your boys to be disrespectful jerks like yourself.”
Victor snickered. “Joy, tell your girlfriend to get off the phone.”
The unexpected insult smacked Tristan’s ego like a metal folding chair in the face at a professional wrestling match, egging on his inner warrior. “Girlfriend?” He snorted, accepting the challenge. “I’ll get off the phone after you apologize to Joy for being such a loser.”
“Joy, I apologize you’re such a loser,” Victor mocked with a guttural laugh. “And your friend’s a loser too. I hope I get to meet your loser-friend when I drop off the boys in a few weeks.”
“Yeah, you’ll meet me all right. I’ll be waiting for you. You can count on that.” Tristan squeezed in the last words when her cellphone beeped, indicating Victor hung up first.
While he pounded his fist into his palm, ready to rumble, Joy shook her head with wide shell-shocked eyes. “Why…why did you get involved? I could’ve handled him without you butting in.”
“I’m sorry. But I can’t believe what a prick he is.”
“I told you he was…but you had to open your mouth, didn’t you? I just want my boys. No controversy. No conversation.”
“Someone needs to put that piece of garbage in his place. He can’t treat you like this.” Enraged, he shoved his way into his clothes: jeans, T-shirt, socks. It was time to get to work, building her house a-sap, if that’s what it took to ease her worried mind.
“That’s the way he is. Now I have to fix this.”
“Fix what?” He rammed the belt through the loops, taking out his stress on the thick leather strap.
“Fix everything. I know…” Joy snapped her fingers. “I’ll just tell him you’re a friend from work.”
“What does it matter?” He slapped a baseball cap over his shaggy bed-head. “He brags about his relationship to you.”
“I’m not like him.”
Tristan paused halfway through the sleeves of his worn flannel work shirt. “Are you ashamed of being with me or something?” He spewed the jealous words before he could stop them, without considering that surprise visit from his ex-wife when he claimed Joy was the housekeeper-nanny rather than admitting she was his woman. But that was more for Joy’s sake, protecting her from Stacy’s interrogation than anything else.
“Seriously?” Joy gave him the evil eye, as if reading his mind. “You, of all people, are going there?”
“Your mother already knows about us. So what’s the problem? You’re still concerned your father’s gonna find out we’re living together? I’m working on your house as fast as I can.” That was a big fat lie; Tristan delayed the project to keep her under his roof, at least until her boys arrived, because he loved having her around, even next door was too far away.
“This mess has nothing to do with any of that.”
“Then why don’t you want Victor to know you have a boyfriend?”
“Because…” Joy squeezed the corners of her eyes at the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. “If things don’t work out between us, I don’t want him to know another one of my relationships failed.”
Tristan squinted, trying to comprehend this unforeseeable future that had her so worried. “What are you talking about?”
“The less Victor knows about my love life, the better I feel. Just like you not wanting Stacy to know your business.”
Touché. “Okay. But, Joy, you don’t really think we’d fail, do you? I mean, I don’t think that that all, on any level. In fact, I think the opposite.”
“You say that now because things are so new but who knows what’ll happen down the line? What if you don’t get along with my boys? Imagine having to deal with pint-sized Victors, times two.”
Tristan did, and his whole body clenched. If Joy’s kids were anything like their father, he’d have a hard time keeping his temper under control. From all he’d heard, her boys made Damien seem like an angel. He hadn’t even met them but already diagnosed them with a dire need of a swift kick in the ass and a lesson on how to treat women, especially the woman who gave them life. Maybe they’d be fine once they settled into Scenic View, being around their mother and maternal grandparents, and under Tristan’s watchful eye.
“Look, I’m not in love with your boys—” The words tumbled out without him thinking but they were true.
“My point exactly. If they don’t like you, and you don’t like them, where does that leave us? I can’t send them back to be with their father just so I can be with you.”
“Joy, don’t get crazy. Let’s see what happens when we come to that bridge.”
Fat drops rolled down her cheeks and onto the pillow in her lap. “I’m afraid I already know what’ll happen.” She curled up on her side, pulling the covers over her head.
Her agonizing tears shredded his heart. “Please don’t get upset over something that hasn’t happened.” Tristan sat on the edge of the bed to rub her back but she moved an inch away to escape his fingers. He took the hint and stood. “I’m not going anywhere, sunshine,” he whispered, doubtful she heard him over her sobs, “I just wish you’d believe me.”
****
Joy wished it were so easy. Believing Tristan was one thing, but knowing how difficult her boys could be was another.
Tristan’s daughter was so easy to love. A sweet little girl, with a typical three-year-old’s temper tantrum tendency, but beyond that she was a breeze compared to the boys. Being around Nicole brought on the itch to have another baby. No. Wait. Don’t even think about it.
Right now she had to get through today, and the next, and the next. One day at a time was all she could handle.
Mason and Owen would be arriving soon and their nest still wasn’t ready.
Across the yard, the heavy hammering indicated something was happening. With hope, this secret project was near completion. The exterior seemed done, with mocha shingles and crisp white trim, however she still hadn’t seen the interior but Tristan promised she’d be pleased. He was doing his best. Doing it for her. For her family.
There was no doubt in Joy’s mind Tristan loved her. No doubt he’d stick around even if her boys were their usual tough-to-love selves. He didn’t come across as a quitter when the going got rough. But how long would it last before he grew weary of adjusting the attitudes of another man’s brood? Especially around his impressionable child.
Maybe being in the new surroundings, without their father, would spark a positive change.
Joy only prayed these weeks apart were worth it. Enough to remedy the major issues, like the disrespectful backtalk, public meltdowns, and treating her like a doormat.
After a quick cry in the shower, she gave herself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, then slapped on some make-up and tugged her Everyday’s Christmas T-shirt over her head.
Second to making love to Tristan, working was the best medicine for de-stressing. Not only was she reeling from the usual menu of tension—her ex, her boys, her parents—today she had to figure out how to undo the damage she caused with Tristan, hurting his feelings.
She cruised downtown in the Green Machine, windows open, radio cranked to some unfamiliar pop song with a cool beat and undecipherable lyrics.
In the lot behind the shop, parked in Mrs. Claus’ spot was Lorraine’s red convertible. With a careful maneuver of the steering wheel, Joy fit the wide ride into one of the designated spaces for Santa’s Helper—except some punk reversed the N and T in black marker.
Joy stepped through the open backdoor where Lorraine sat on an upside down milk crate, sorting through delivery boxes. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“Late?” Lorraine glanced from the pages on the clipboard to her diamond-studded wristwatch. “I wasn’t expecting you at all.”
“Really? Why?”
Lorraine shrugged. “Maybe I misunderstood. I thought you’d asked for the day off. Last week you mentioned having to do something the day after Mother’s Day. I figured you were going somewhere for a long weekend. Maybe down to see your boys. Never mind.” She waved the words away. “I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.”
Joy cringed, remembering how she’d anticipated the worst Mother’s Day and the likelihood of drinking herself into oblivion, which would require the day after to nurse the hangover. “Oh, yeah, well, I had a change of plans.”
Lorraine flashed big blue eyes at Joy, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it quick as if tempted to ask about yesterday but knew better based upon their prior conversations. She sighed. “You know, if I hold the mortgage on the Christmas Shoppe, and make you a partner, you’d collect a regular paycheck, with a raise, of course. Think you can live with that?”
“Yeah.” Joy nodded slightly, refraining from being overly enthusiastic, afraid of getting her hopes up. “Of course.”
“I’ll be a silent partner. We can hire some off-season help while you run things. And during the busy season we can bring in two or three more people.” Lorraine tapped her pencil on the legal pad. “If my numbers are right, this place’ll be all yours in…ten years.”
“That’s all?” Joy feigned optimism with a hollow chuckle and a heavy heart. “Ten years?”
She diverted her attention toward the calendar pinned on the corkboard to avoid the boss seeing the defeat her frown couldn’t hide, and sighed, struggling to accept the bad timing of fate’s generous hand. Scoring this job was enough of a blessing. But being invited to buy into it was more than she’d ever dreamed.
Everything happens for a reason, right? Too bad the old adage did nothing to ease the disappointment.
Damn Victor for his part in this pitfall.
Divorce was a burden, not only for her head and heart, but her bank account as well. If only she could win in one area of her screwed up life for a change—to afford this prosperous business or purchase the dream house; she’d graciously accept either at this pathetic point and still work toward the other.
A vision of her childhood home on Hollyhock Hill flashed in her mind. Some of the best days of her life were spent under that roof; she was certain her boys could be happy there too. Even though she’d be renting it, that was almost as good as owning it.
In that blissful image, Tristan stood on the porch in worn jeans and a dingy T-shirt covered in sawdust, sweat, and splatted paint. Joy’s heart swelled. Despite this morning’s communication breakdown, she was sure she could trust every word he said about not seeing an end to their relationship, but rather just the opposite, because deep down, whenever she’d let herself think about it long enough, she couldn’t deny feeling it too. However, she refrained from speaking the truth for fear she might be wrong.
At the end of the day, Joy didn’t need to be a business-owner or a homeowner in order to feel complete when she had Tristan on her side. The man was more than enough to keep her happy. She just had to work harder at not sabotaging a good thing.
“I can’t read these tiny numbers.” Lorraine handed the clipboard to Joy. “Mind taking over for me?”
“Sure.” Joy flipped through the pages, seeing how much new inventory was left to sort.
“Just a reminder, I’m flying down to Florida tomorrow to keep an eye on my mother while my brother picks his daughter up from college.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“With some luck I’ll convince her it’s time to move up into a nursing home—as much as she’s dead set against it.”
Joy dreaded the day she would have to do the same for her parents; she didn’t even want to think about it.
“She’s ninety. Her mind is going.” Lorraine shrugged. “That’s what happens. But the alternative to getting old is what—dying?”
A clammy chill of guilt crept along Joy’s spine for feeling sorry for herself when life really wasn’t as bad as it could be. Compared to most people, she was still kind of young-ish and in good health, which was worth more than…what did Tristan call it? Anti-matter. “Aww, Lorraine. I’m sorry.”
“I was only planning to stay a few days but now Ray wants to tag along. He suggested we extend it into a lover’s getaway at his condo on the beach.” Lorraine giggled like a schoolgirl. “He’s so romantic. How can a girl say no to that? We’ve been trying so hard to keep a low profile around town. It’ll be nice to not worry about everyone minding our business.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Well…” Lorraine blushed. “He’s semi-retired now that his son runs the liquor store so he’s in no hurry to get back to Scenic View. Maybe two weeks? Surely not more than three or four. Do you mind running the show while I’m gone?”
“Not at all. Stay as long as you want. Don’t worry about a thing.” Joy said over the warm glow of the trumpet’s timbre in Herb Alpert’s Christmas Album, which Lorraine kept on repeat. “I’ve got it covered.”
“I know you do, hon. And I appreciate it.” Lorraine paused. “This thing between me and Ray is heating up like a wildfire, I’d hate to pick up and leave him when the going is good, you know?”
As her thoughts drifted to Tristan, Joy nodded. I sure do.
“He’s such a sweet man. I got the funny feeling he wants to get serious. I’m not sure I’m ready for it though. I really like him. After my husband passed away six years ago, I figured I’d live the rest of my life alone. I never imagined dating again. I mean, after all these years of seeing Ray at the civic meetings who knew he’d be interested in me? He’d lost his wife two years ago so we had that trauma in common which is what started us talking, strictly as friends. Then last October after the meeting we went to Brawny’s Farm for their Fall Festival. After some spiked cider, we went into the corn maze. Can you believe the son of a gun kissed me? I was shocked although it wasn’t half-bad. I felt like a teenager. A week later he took me to the movies. After that we went for walks on the beach, ate ice cream at the pier, and just started spending all our free time together. At first I felt guilty, but my kids assured me their father wouldn’t want me to be lonely, so I just went for it.”
Joy’s heart swelled as she listened to Lorraine and Ray’s love story. It made her think there truly was hope with Tristan.
“Even though I’m not certain where it’ll lead, I’m looking forward to finding out. I ain’t getting any younger. Oh never mind me, I’m a ramblin’ fool. I gotta hustle. How do I look?” Lorraine fluffed her white-blonde hair and wiggled her plump hips.
“Great. As always.”
“Thanks, hon. I’m meeting my main man for lunch. Between you and me and the Christmas trees, I’ve been staying at his place for the past few weeks. I only go home to water the plants and pick up my mail. Don’t mention any of this to my sister. She thinks we’re still just friends. The last thing I need is for Marie to flap her yap to the biddies at bingo while I’m not around to defend myself.”
“My lips are sealed.” Joy twisted the imaginary key to her mouth then tossed it over her shoulder.
After a quick hug, Lorraine was halfway out the backdoor before she stopped short, snapping her fingers. “Would you mind watering my plants while I’m away?” She pulled a keyring from her purse.
“Of course.”
She pressed the cool metal into Joy’s palm. “I know you have a lot going on. If you ever need to escape, feel free to use my place. And as long as your dog doesn’t mistake my new carpeting for the backyard, the little guy can stay too. I just figured I’d put it out there, in case, you never know. Oh, and when your boys show up, if you need to take off a few days to get them settled, just tape a note to the front door so the customers know when we’re reopening.”
“Thanks, Lorraine.” The farewell hug lasted longer this time before the woman was out the door again.
With a newfound calm and a secret smile Joy sat on a stool at the counter, combing through inventory paperwork, with Lorraine’s words reverberating in her head: I’m not certain where it’ll lead; I’m looking forward to finding out. That’s exactly how Joy felt about Tristan, only with a dash of fear of the unknown, multiplied by heavy baggage on both sides.
If only her damn ex-husband wasn’t such a vindictive prick.
The memory of this morning’s phone call drowned out the sleigh bell song playing over the speakers.
Now that Victor knew Joy had at least one friend willing to stand up for her, she could only imagine the wicked wheels turning in his balding head, weaving a way to sabotage her relationship. The sonofabitch got off on making her miserable. When they’d tried couples counseling during their first year of marriage, the therapist warned Joy she was in for some trouble after suggesting Victor had a Napoleon complex and narcissistic tendencies, to which he gave the therapist explicit directions straight to hell.
How could she ever live happily with Tristan while her ex was still an albatross around her neck?
Joy sighed, propped her elbows on the counter and cupped her cheeks as she figured out a solution. “I just need to keep Victor away from Tristan, that’s all.” For all she knew, the lazy louse would send the boys on an airplane with a hired sitter, just to avoid the trek himself—especially since Felicity was too far along to fly.
All her worrying was probably for nothing.
But then again she’s never known Victor to back down from an argument. After the words exchanged on the phone this morning, it wouldn’t be a surprise if her ex made the trip especially to pick a fight. However, if he didn’t know where to find Tristan then he would’ve showed up for nothing.
Joy reached into her sweater pocket and squeezed Lorraine’s house key like a lucky charm.