CHAPTER 8

gray: first-time feeling

When it rains, it pours. Diana was trying to keep me calm, but how could I be calm? We’d lost two midsize clients to a competing affiliate firm in the past week, I was behind on a proposal for a new A-client I was trying to snag, and my boy was coming home. It had felt like the longest three weeks of my life, but it was almost over. That was the best news in the world. Knowing he would be back any minute was like anticipating the first day of spring after a long, freezing winter.

All I could think about was the books we would read together, the long days at the pool, the time on the beach, dinners out, having all his little friends over, making s’mores. I absolutely could not wait. I wanted to make this the best summer ever for him.

Andrew had texted me earlier: Dinner?

When I hadn’t responded right away, he had added, Please?

I had seen him a couple more times after he showed up at my dock, and I was trying to tell myself that was enough. But in those quiet moments, all I wanted was more of him.

I had texted back: Crazy day at work and Wagner comes home day after tomorrow. Can I let you know tonight?

Sure. We could take the boat. Have a really special night. May have to be our last one for a while?

A question. I knew that Andrew wanted to ask me how everything was going to work when Wagner got back. I was totally positive that I wouldn’t let Wagner know we were seeing each other. That was set in stone. But I wasn’t sure about anything else. Would tonight be it for us? The thought made me sad, but I also thought that maybe that’s the way it had to be.

That night, when Andrew rang the doorbell, I was dressed and ready for dinner.

He just smiled. “So you’re taking me up on my offer?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “I guess it’s my boat, right?”

“Hell if I know,” Andrew said.

He looked around. “No Trey?”

I shook my head. “He went back to Raleigh, so Wags and I could have a little time to ourselves.”

We walked down the dock, and he stepped into the hull. Instead of taking my hand to help me, he put his hands on either side of my waist and lifted me. I squealed.

He eyed my shoes. “It didn’t seem safe for you to climb in here with those heels on.”

They were wedges. I sat on the bench seat right beside him. But when he turned the key, the engine cranked and promptly died.

In my life with Greg, that would have equaled pulling out a cell phone to call the mechanic and that our boat date was DOA.

“Oh well,” I said. “I guess we can drive to dinner—or we can cook if you want to.”

Andrew gave me a strange look and then turned his attention to the console. He stuck his head in, made some noise, and then walked to the back of the boat, where he did something near the engine. Returning, he turned the key once more—and, lo and behold, the thing cranked.

“Okay,” he said.

“Wow. That was amazing,” I said, snuggling up under his arm and kissing him. He ran his hand down my bare arm, and I moved closer.

“Not that amazing. The engine bulbs just needed to be pumped. For a boat owner, you don’t know much about boats, do you?”

Seeing him take charge like that made me see Andrew in a different way.

We’d been riding for a couple of minutes before I noticed the huge dark cloud looming just ahead of us. “Uh-oh,” I said. “Think we should turn around?”

Andrew looked up and put his hand out just as the first crack of thunder broke and a few drops began to fall lightly from the sky. “It’s probably only a summer shower,” he said, “judging from the size of the cloud. Let’s go back for a few minutes, and we’ll try again later.”

As he spoke, it was as if the sprinklers were turned on full blast and the bottom fell out of that cloud. “Oh no,” I said, laughing over the roar of the engine and the beating of the rain on the windshield.

Andrew laughed too. “Note to self: get a T-top.” He pulled me closer as the rain soaked us. “On the bright side,” he said, “there’s nothing more romantic than kissing the most beautiful woman you know with rain pouring down.”

I smiled. “That is true.”

A few minutes later, Andrew was docking the boat, running from the bow to the stern to tie it up, while I stood there uselessly, watching the rain drench my shoes. I took them off, and we ran through the grass, laughing as we finally made it through the front door.

Andrew paused and looked at me. He leaned in to kiss me like he was savoring it, like he was memorizing the moment. I realized that I was memorizing the moment too. He nuzzled my neck and, squatting down and reaching for the bottom of my dress, said, “We can’t possibly go traipsing through your house in these soaking wet clothes.”

I raised my arms over my head, suddenly acutely aware of my near-nakedness. I unbuttoned his shirt very slowly, my mind trying to catch up with my heart.

I was thankful that the lot jutted out into a bit of a peninsula. No one could see us.

I noticed Andrew glance behind me, and I turned to follow his eyes. My wedding photo, in a sterling silver frame, engraved with my monogram and the wedding date. I bit my lip and said, “Sorry.”

“For what?” he asked.

“I should probably take that down now. I guess I was just so used to it—”

He shook his head slowly. “You shouldn’t take it down.”

“No?”

“No. Wagner needs to have that picture to remember that even though it’s over, it was happy.”

I smiled sadly. “Then why were you looking at it like that?”

Focusing on me with laser precision, Andrew leaned down and kissed me again. Then he whispered, “I was just thinking that if I could ever make you smile like that, I’d make sure I never let you stop.”

I felt his lips moving down my cheek and my neck and my collarbone. “Andrew, I—” I heard myself start to say. But then his lips were on my ear, and he was whispering, “Everything is going to be fine, G,” and whatever objections I was going to raise didn’t seem to matter. I laughed as Andrew carried me up the stairs to my room. And I didn’t think about how I hadn’t done this in well over a year or how this was the bed I had made love to my husband in for all those years or whether my stomach looked flat. I didn’t think about anything at all. I was lost in Andrew and the way he made me feel like none of that mattered now. He saw me, and I finally saw him too, for all the amazing things he really was. He was a man. He was an equal. And he didn’t have to say a word for me to realize that he was all mine.

Later, happy and drowsy and lying on my freshly pressed sheets, I was astounded. I had done it. I had had sex for the first time in twelve years with someone who wasn’t Greg. This feeling—freedom and happiness and fun—was what my life had been missing for more time than I would like to admit. Andrew and I lay in complete silence, lost in that sweet afterglow that I hadn’t felt in so long I had honestly forgotten about it.

In the vulnerability of that moment I said, “I get why Greg left me.” It just gurgled up out of my mouth, and I wanted to pull it back in as soon as it did. Why would I ruin tonight of all nights?

But Andrew just yawned, his hand trailing lazily up and down my back. “Greg is an idiot.”

“I understand the feeling of first-time passion and not wanting it to end,” I continued. “I understand the sweaty palms and beating heart and racing pulse he probably got with Brooke. I get wanting to have that all the time.”

He rested his forehead on mine and whispered, “I get that feeling too.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He kissed me so softly.

“That’s kind of what it feels like when you win your first tennis match,” he said, stroking my cheek with his finger. “You can’t imagine anything ever feeling that good.” He paused. “But then you go to practice every day. You drill and play and hit bucket after bucket of serves. You put in the time. And you win again. And again. And again. It still feels good, but you’re used to it now. The butterflies are gone, but the joy remains. In so many ways, it’s deeper, and it’s sweeter because you worked so hard for it. You committed to it. And that feels even better.” Here I was, complaining about losing that first-time feeling, and here he was, young and fresh and so incredibly wise. The butterflies end, but it’s the love that’s forming all along the way that really means something.

“Wow,” I said. I looked into those brown eyes, and I felt more than I wanted to let myself feel. “How do you even know that? You’re too young to understand the things you do.”

He shrugged. “You know, Gray, everything in life is a metaphor for pretty much everything else. If you can get one area under control, the others come a lot easier.” He winked at me.

I sighed, that glowy feeling seeping away, remembering that I had no area of my life under control. A familiar panic welled up in me as I realized that, despite what I had promised myself, I wasn’t ready to let him go. But I didn’t want anyone, not even adorable Andrew, to be in Wagner’s life. I felt trapped.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted.

“Do what?”

“I don’t know how to be a single mother. I don’t know how to date and have a son. I don’t know how to balance all these things and it’s not fair to you.” Andrew put my fingers, which were wrapped around his, to his lips. It was one of the most endearing things he did.

“No one expects you to have it all figured out, G.”

I laughed incredulously. “Yes, they do, Andrew. Of course they do.”

He sat up and looked down at me. “Well, I don’t.”

It was next to nothing. And, yet, it was everything. The knot in my stomach uncoiled, just like that.

“How about this?” Andrew added. “What if we figure it out as we go along?”

He was right. One step at a time. He assured me so well. I panicked again as I realized that I was developing real feelings for him—and I knew I needed to break the intensity of the moment. So I jumped out of bed and raced to the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around me. I grabbed the whipped cream, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and two spoons, and raced back.

When he saw me, he said, “I can’t imagine life ever, ever getting mundane with you.”

I don’t know if it was the words, Andrew, Ben, or Jerry, but I know for sure that, of all the nights in my life, that was one of the sweetest.

diana: trailer trash orphan

When I was developing the photos down at Meds and More, I realized right off that people only take pictures of the good times. But I say we’d all be a darn sight better off if we’d take pictures of the bad stuff too, so we wouldn’t keep making the same mistakes over and over.

As I tried to pick up that margarita glass with my hands shaking, I wasn’t sure if this moment would fall into the category of “take a picture so you can remember” or “take a picture so you’ll learn your lesson once and for all.” My mouth was so dry I couldn’t talk.

“We couldn’t believe it,” Cheyenne whispered, as if Frank would be able to hear her across the crowded bar.

“Ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since…” Robin trailed off.

She didn’t have to finish that sentence. I knew better than anybody when the last time we saw him was.

“Di,” Janet said softly, which was when I realized that I was staring into my margarita glass. “You okay?”

She reached over and touched my hand. Janet had been there with me that day, the only one who had the stomach for it, I guess. Cheyenne and Robin, they’d been there waiting when we got home, and every last one of them, they worked real hard to make sure I was okay. We were in it together, in a way. But in a much, much bigger way, I was the only one who had to live it over and over, and I was the only one who realized that maybe, in a situation like that, you can’t ever truly be okay again.

And Frank? Well, Frank had got off pretty much scot-free. Frank had been wandering around all these years not knowing one damn thing I’d been going through. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing here now. I felt pretty sure that he had some beautiful wife and a bunch of kids and a big house. His momma and daddy were probably real proud. He’d found himself a suitable woman, not a trailer trash orphan like me. It almost embarrassed me how fresh the wound felt, remembering his momma calling me that—and knowing she wasn’t wrong.

I looked up at Janet long enough to say, “Oh yeah. You know me. I’m gonna be fine. Just surprised to see him here, is all.”

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes that had passed, but it felt like it had been an hour, me sitting there frozen in my seat. “What are you going to do?” Robin asked.

I glanced over just in time to see Frank setting his money on the bar, getting up off the stool. Before I could answer, before I had time to think about it, I bolted right up out of my chair and, with the ladies calling after me, I was out that door, quick as a wink. It took me about until I got to my car to realize I’d left my purse on the table inside the Beach Pub. “Shit,” I said under my breath.

“Diana,” I heard that strong, deep voice say. Oh God, that voice. Even after all of it, after how he hurt me, after all the history we had together, that voice still made me weak in the knees. Don’t look at him, I thought. If you just don’t look at him, he’ll go away and it’ll be like this never happened.

Then I felt his hand on mine, that prickle on my skin, the way his touch almost burned it felt so good. I exhaled slowly, trying not to remember it, the way it took my breath away when he held my hand, the way my heart told me he was the one I should be with forever.

“Was it all that bad that you had to run out of the bar like that?” Frank asked.

Then I made the worst mistake a girl can make. I looked at him. Straight in the eyes. Those deep, navy-blue eyes, the ones I thought I’d be looking into at the altar, the ones I thought our babies would have. I felt that familiar pang in my heart, that emptiness in my belly. Our baby.

My heart stood stock-still for a few seconds until I got the nerve to say, “You know, Frank? Yeah. It was that bad. In fact, it was worse than that bad.”

His face fell. “But, Di, come on. My parents. And I was just a kid.”

“You were just a kid?” I practically spat at him. “No, I was just a kid! You were old enough that you should’ve known better. You were old enough that you should’ve fought for me.”

He nodded and swallowed hard. “I know, Di. I knew it then; I know it now. I’ve known it the whole time.” He paused. “But, damn, Di. You were the one that left me. It took me a long time to figure out why, but back then, you broke my heart. I was devastated.”

But I bet you still don’t know why.

I shook my head. “I find that hard to believe, that you, smart as you are, couldn’t figure out where I was.” I tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed my hand. “Where have you been for twenty years, Frank? What have you been doing all this time that kept you from coming back before now if all that’s really true?”

He stared at me and burst out, “My dad, D, he’s gone.”

And just like that, I was in the past, back in Frank’s house, laughing on his porch while his daddy grilled hot dogs. I put my hand over my heart as my breath caught in my throat. I had loved Frank’s daddy. He had loved me. I used to dream that I had a daddy out there who was just like him, that he would come find me one day.

“Frank,” I said, his name tasting warm and familiar in my mouth, as if it hadn’t been twenty-two years, as if no time had passed at all. “I am so sorry.”

He shook his head. “For all these years, Diana, I haven’t been able to move on. All I’ve dreamed about is you.” He seemed sort of out of breath, and I found myself, as much as I didn’t want to, reaching over to touch his arm, to steady him. “I just wanted you to be happy. I thought my staying away was the best thing, even if it meant that I would be miserable.”

“So why now? Did you suddenly decide that you didn’t care about me being happy?” I was trying to lighten the mood, but I could tell by his serious expression that that wasn’t in the cards.

“No. I’ve known all this time that I’d never really be happy without you.” He took my hand in his and said, “But it took me until now to realize that maybe this is how it is with true love, that it never goes away. And I thought that maybe you couldn’t really be happy without me either.”