STANDING over to one side of the dance floor, I watched her come out of the bathroom and made sure she got back to her table. Then I stood nearby like a sentry, making sure no one laid a finger on her or Ari.
Xander told me I was being stupid, then gave up talking to me completely and went to find someone to flirt with.
I stayed right where I was until Veronica and Ari left, then I stealthily followed them outside, making sure they made it to their car okay. It was only when I saw them drive away that I went back inside and ordered a beer.
Xander found me at the bar. “Dude,” he said. “That was the most obvious tail I’ve ever seen. They totally saw you following them out.”
“I don’t care,” I said stubbornly.
“I don’t fucking get it.”
I tipped up the bottle. “You wouldn’t.”
“Why don’t you go after her?”
“I can’t.”
“Because . . .”
“Because she’s afraid that if we keep messing around, she’ll end up hurt when she has to leave.”
“And she has to leave?”
“She has to leave. She wants to leave. This isn’t her home.”
Xander cocked his head. “You sure about that?”
The following week was better—and worse.
Better because Veronica didn’t ignore me, I made an effort to include myself in conversations, and if we happened to find ourselves alone in a room, we didn’t run in the other direction.
But it was torture that I couldn’t touch her. Every time she got close to me, I battled the urge to take her in my arms.
Better because Tuesday night, she and the kids came out to the garage and invited me to watch a movie with them, and instead of staying out there alone, I said yes and joined them.
Worse because I could hear her laugh, but I couldn’t put my arm around her in the dark.
Better because Thursday was my dad’s birthday, and we all went out for dinner at The Pier Inn. More than once I saw her glancing over to the table by the window we’d shared.
Worse because I was doing the same and wishing I could have that night alone with her all over again.
Better because Friday evening, she went out with Ari, and this time I forced myself to tell her to have a good time and go to bed early. My bedroom window was open, and I was relieved when I heard her come home around ten and go up the stairs to her apartment.
Worse because I so desperately wanted to go knock on her door and kiss her goodnight, but I couldn’t.
Better because Saturday morning was their 5K, and I tagged along, signed up to run it at the last minute, and waited for them at the finish line, pretending to be asleep. The four of us had such a good time together. That night I thought she might hit The Broken Spoke again with Ari, but she didn’t, choosing instead to spend her evening in the backyard with me and my dad and Xander and the kids, roasting marshmallows on the grill, sipping a beer, and watching the twins and some other neighborhood imps dance around with sparklers.
Worse because I wanted to pull her aside where no one could see and put a hickey on her neck, so I’d still feel like she was mine.
I wanted it so badly that when we found ourselves alone, I lost control.
She was just coming out of the bathroom off the kitchen—I’d watched her go into the house and followed her a minute later—and as soon as the door opened, I barreled in and shut it behind me.
“Austin, what—”
But I didn’t let her finish the question. I took her roughly in my arms and put my mouth on hers, kissing her hard and deep. She fought me for less than two seconds, then gave in, her hands skating over my back and down my ass, pulling me against her. Sliding one hand into her hair, I used it to tilt her head to one side and moved my mouth down her throat.
“Stop,” she begged. “No more.”
Grudgingly, I tore my mouth from her skin and rested my forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Placing her hands on my shoulders, she pushed me away. “I should leave.”
I nodded. “You go out first. I’ll wait a minute.”
She shook her head, her blue eyes shining with tears. “No, I mean leave your house. My living here is making this really hard.”
“No!” It killed me to think of her gone. “Don’t leave, Roni. The kids would be devastated. They adore you.”
“I adore them too. I don’t want to go.”
“Then stay. I won’t do this again. I promise.”
She put her hand on her stomach and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll go out first.”
I watched her leave and pulled the door shut again. Then I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink, furious that I’d upset her.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Sunday morning, we went to Moe’s for breakfast. After I handed the kids a bunch of quarters, all I could do was stare across the table at the woman whose existence I hadn’t even known of two months ago, but whose departure in two weeks was tearing me apart. What if I never saw her again?
Ari came and poured coffee, and the two women chatted for a moment. When Ari turned to leave, Veronica caught her arm. “Hey, can you bring some almond milk?”
“Of course.” Ari smiled at me. “Sorry I forgot. Be right back.”
When we were alone again, Veronica smiled hesitantly at me. “So I got the job,” she said.
“The job?”
“The assistant choreographer’s position.” She lifted her coffee mug to her lips.
“Oh.” My heart sank. “That’s—that’s good.”
“Yeah. I was getting nervous.”
“And you have a place to live?” My eyes fastened onto the beginnings of the bruise I’d left on her neck last night. She’d worn her hair down this morning, which hid it fairly well, but I knew where to look. I knew so many things about her body.
“I think so. Morgan connected me with someone looking to sublet their studio apartment in Little Italy. I just have to confirm what I’ll earn before I say yes. Then book my ticket.” She set the mug down.
“You’re probably excited to get back to New York.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes dropped. “Although I’ll miss it here. It will be hard to leave. In some ways, I wish I had a reason to stay.”
Maybe it was her words that made me do what I did next.
Or maybe it was the red lipstick mark on her white coffee cup.
Later that afternoon, I took the kids over to see my dad. While they ran around in his backyard, which still had the playscape we’d built them when they were younger, we sat on his patio under the shade of an umbrella.
“Where’s Veronica?” he asked.
“She’s at home. She had some things to do.” The truth was that I hadn’t asked her to come along.
“Boy, that was lucky, finding her. Wasn’t it?” My dad chuckled. “Someone like that doesn’t knock on your door every day.”
“That’s true.”
“Too bad she’s got to leave,” he mused. “Kids are crazy about her.”
“So I’ve been thinking about that.” I leaned forward in my chair, elbows on my knees. “I was thinking I’d ask her to stay.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I was thinking that it might be nice to have her around this fall, and—and beyond. For childcare, while I work.”
“Won’t the kids be in school?”
“They will, but they’re getting older, and they’ll need help with homework and rides to activities. I might be too busy to handle it all.”
“Why’s that?”
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.” I took a breath. “I’d like to cut back at Two Buckleys and go into business for myself.”
“Oh yeah?” He rubbed his chin. “Making those tables? I was looking at your work in the garage last night. It’s beautiful. You’ve got a gift.”
“Thanks.” I felt proud that my dad liked my work. “I can make a lot of things. But yes, there’s a lot of interest in tables. I have orders I’d like to fill. I just need time to do it.”
My dad looked away from me, his eyes shifting to the twins chasing each other around the playscape. When Owen caught his sister, he tackled her and threw her to the ground. She quickly flipped him over and sat on him.
My dad laughed. “Looks like you and Xander out there.”
“I wouldn’t need to leave Two Buckleys completely,” I told him, impatient for him to comment on what I’d just said. “I could still help you out.”
He continued to watch the kids, a nostalgic kind of smile on his face. “I didn’t get to do this all that much when you guys were young—just watch you kids run around and have fun. It’s nice. And going out on the boat last week—that was nice too.”
I shifted in my chair, rubbing my hands on my knees.
“Course, you didn’t get to do much of that once your mom was gone. You always had to work. Then when Harry died, you stepped into his shoes. Kept us in business.”
“Right. But maybe now, I could go part-time. Maybe work for Two Buckleys in the mornings, and then work for myself in the afternoons. What do you think? Would that be okay?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then he simply said, “No.”
Closing my eyes, I leaned back in my chair. “Okay. Forget I asked.”
“You need to go full-time for yourself.”
“Huh?”
“I know Two Buckleys isn’t your dream. You know what? It’s not even my dream anymore.” He pointed to the kids, who were now elbowing each other out of the way to get down the slide first. “That is. Being with my grandkids. Going fishing with my friends. Sleeping in a little. Taking an afternoon nap. I think I’d like that.”
I stared at him. “You mean it?”
“I mean it. Two Buckleys has provided a good living for three generations, but I think maybe it’s time to let it go. History is important, but so is the future.” He looked at me. “Sometimes, change is good.”
My pulse had started to race. “So what will happen to the business?”
“Well, we’ll hang on to it until you’re sure this furniture thing takes off, and then we’ll sell it. I’ll keep some to live on, and we’ll invest the rest in your business.” He held my gaze. “You’ve invested a lot in me over the years. It’s about time you invested in yourself.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I could hardly get the words out, my throat and chest felt like someone was standing on them.
He looked out at the kids again. “So what about Veronica?”
My heart skipped a few beats just hearing her name. “I’m going to ask her if she’ll stay on as the kids’ nanny.”
My father nodded slowly. “And will she?”
“I hope so.” Truth be told, I was nervous about it. “But she’d have to walk away from a pretty cool job she just got offered in New York.”
“Well, then, I guess you’ll just have to make her a better offer.”
“Right,” I said, starting to sweat. “A better offer.”
