CHAPTER 14

gray: corporate takeover

As I adjusted the collar buttons on Andrew’s shirt, which he had paired with freshly pressed khaki shorts, I realized I was pretty sure that I’d never seen him in an oxford. It was sweet that he was dressing up for me to take him out in public for the first time.

“So why is this thing in the middle of the day?” he asked.

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” I said. “I am happy to say that I didn’t have one thing to do with planning this soiree.”

“It’s because it’s a fund-raiser,” Marcy said. “And, theoretically, people drink less during the day and then the charity doesn’t spend as much money on booze.”

“Theoretically,” Andrew said in a tone that implied they hadn’t met us yet. We all laughed.

“Hello,” I said. “Three for Howard.”

The lady sitting at the table, wearing glasses with a chain to keep them around her neck, said, “I see Howard for two.”

Andrew put his arm around me. “That would be her idiot ex-husband.”

He kissed me on the cheek, and Marcy added, “And his trampy new fiancée.”

The woman looked shocked underneath her half-glasses and sort of stuttered, “Um… yes… I see Howard for three right here. Sorry I missed it before.”

Andrew took my hand, and we walked into the party, surveying the scene.

“Oh, man,” Marcy said. “These people just keep getting older.”

Andrew snickered behind his hand.

“Y’all need to behave, okay? I brought you both out in public under the condition of good behavior. You can shotgun beers at the Beach Pub later as a reward if you can keep it together now.”

In his haughtiest voice, Andrew said, “Well, my love, in that case, I shall go rustle us up some chardonnay. Not too oaky. No, not on a day as warm as this.”

Marcy and I giggled. As I watched Andrew walk away, I could feel eyes on me. I turned and did a double take.

He was tall, dark, and age-appropriate. He was handsome, but not ruggedly like Andrew. There was something that made him imperfectly attractive, like maybe his nose was a little bit too big for his face. He didn’t have to say a word for every person in that room to know that he was powerful. He was in charge. He was a man.

“Oh my gosh,” Marcy whispered to me. “Who is that guy?”

As if he had heard her, he turned. His eyes met mine for a moment too long, but it was as if I couldn’t look away. He had me locked in his gaze. He winked and smiled and sauntered to the bar.

“You can’t be serious?” Marcy said.

“What do you mean?” I asked breathlessly, using all the energy I had not to follow him.

She took a step back and turned toward me. “Do you see me?” she asked, running her hands down the length of her torso in a body-skimming dress with her tan, mile-long legs peeking out from underneath.

“You are stunning. If I were into women, I would be all over you.”

“Awww, thanks, sweetie. So why was Mr. Corporate Takeover there giving you the stare-down and didn’t even notice me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“What did I miss?” Andrew said from behind me, making me jump.

He handed me a drink. I smiled, coming back to earth, to this cutie-pie I was with.

“Oh, noth—there they are!” Marcy finished in a sharp whisper.

I looked toward the sign-in table to see Brooke gliding in, her long blond hair waving in the breeze, looking about as gorgeous as one could expect, on Greg’s arm. He was smiling victoriously, as if he were signaling that he had won some sort of contest. You couldn’t blame him, really. She was stunning, to say the least.

His smile vanished when he saw me. I waved and slipped my hand into Andrew’s. It probably seemed like a ploy, but, in all honesty, I felt like I needed his support. It was the first time I had seen my almost ex-husband and his new fiancée out together, like, at an event. It wasn’t that I wanted him back. But she was on his arm where I had been for so many years, and that was undeniably strange.

Brooke smiled at me. While she was chatting with the hostess, Greg beelined in my direction. “Hi, Greg,” I said nonchalantly.

Andrew put his hand out and said, “Hi, I’m—”

Greg cut him off. “I know who you are.” He peered at me. “Gray, could we have a moment, please?”

Andrew looked at me questioningly. I nodded and smiled at him, and he gave me a quick kiss on the lips and said, “It’s time for a new beer. Can I get you one, man?” as he walked off.

Greg looked at him as if he were speaking Greek, which was not one of the five languages that Greg was fluent in.

“Are you serious, Gray? Bringing our son’s tennis teacher to the party? Are you trying to make me jealous or something?”

I laughed and took a sip of my wine. “I’m definitely not trying to make you jealous. I tried to fend him off, but the man is very persistent.”

“So you’re telling me that this isn’t a one-time thing.”

I waved my hand. “No way. We’ve been together a couple of months now.”

He looked at me in astonishment. “You have to be kidding me. What is he, twenty-five?”

I smiled into my glass, trying not to laugh at Andrew and Marcy making faces behind Greg’s head, about twenty feet away. “Well, twenty-seven.” I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it, so I said, “Wait. How old is Brooke again?”

“Twenty-eight,” Greg said, his face getting sort of red. I knew I couldn’t push him much further, and I loved that I could have this effect on him.

I made a face like she was on her deathbed. “Gosh, Greg. That’s kind of old.” I patted him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Maybe try going a little younger with your next fiancée.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh, and just so you know, there’s no way I’m letting you off the hook for that piddly sum you offered me.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s more money than most people make cumulatively in their lifetime. I think it’s very fair.”

“I’m glad you think that,” he whispered. “I don’t, and my lawyers don’t either.” He paused. “See you in court.”

That made my stomach turn, but I just smiled brightly and said, “Good move. After I testify, you’ll get nothing. I can’t wait!”

I was lying, but it felt good to say it anyway. Then I walked past him and bounded in what I hoped was a charming and adorable way toward my charming and adorable date.

“So how’d it go?” Marcy asked.

“Let’s just say that giving someone a taste of his own medicine has never felt so good,” I said. Andrew’s arm felt familiar and comforting as it slipped around my shoulders. But I had to admit that when I saw Mr. Corporate Takeover at the top of the steps, staring at me again, a shiver went down my spine.

diana: sink the ship

Walking up the steps to Frank’s house that day, all I could hear in my head was trailer trash orphan over and over. And Frank’s momma, she wasn’t wrong about me. Back then, I had been making crazy good money waitressing at the Island Grille, and I’d got me some nice clothes and rented one of them cute, tiny houses on the outskirts of Cape Carolina. But that didn’t mean Frank’s momma couldn’t see right through me. I was, at my very core, a trailer trash orphan—or, more aptly, a project orphan, which was even worse.

Frank squeezed my hand and looked at me funny like he thought I was going to throw up or something. “She’s not here, Diana. It’s not like my momma’s going to pop out of the paneling.”

But, oh my Lord, she was everywhere. She’d sewn the curtains and decorated the bookshelves and found all them shells lining the coffee table. “We’re being crazy, Frank. Nothing’s changed. Your momma’s still going to hate me.”

He shrugged. “I’m almost forty-five years old, Diana. I don’t care what my momma thinks.”

It was easy to say, standing there in her living room, in the family house she always knew she would pass down to Frank one day, that he didn’t care. But he had to care. Or maybe that was just the fear talking. It was waiting in the wings, hiding in the background of every happy moment, asking, What’s going to sink the ship? What’s going to go wrong this time? I didn’t consider myself a pessimist, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around things being this good.

He led me into the tiny kitchen and poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. “You just need to relax,” he whispered in my ear, kissing its lobe, then the nape of my neck, then my collarbone.

I took a sip, feeling soothed.

“I thought it was going to be just me, so I was going to throw a steak on the grill, but I’m happy to take my girl out if you’d rather.”

I smiled. “I think dinner in sounds like just what the doctor ordered.”

Cooking dinner with Frank felt easy, like we’d been doing it forever. He put the steaks on the grill, and I chopped the zucchini and onions and squash and tossed them in a little olive oil and threw them in a pan. He popped the bread in the oven, and I took the butter out of the foil. We carried our plates and wine to the tiny dining table on the corner of the porch. The house was small, modest, and nothing fancy. But the view of the ocean, waves crashing on the shore, was spectacular.

“Momma and Dad built them a new house over on Ocean Ridge right before he passed,” Frank said. “So this one’s all ours if we want it.”

All ours. It wasn’t lost on me. I smiled at him, the second glass of wine washing away my worries. He was right. He was a grown man. His mother didn’t control him anymore.

“What about the stores?” I asked. “How can you live here and keep them all going?”

He chewed his steak and smiled. “I sold out of all of ’em but the Cape Carolina one.”

I looked at him wide-eyed. That chain of stores was his family’s pride and joy. They had something. Not just one but five stores that were real profitable. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged. “You see it, the chain stores—the real big ones—they’re popping up on every corner. I knew I couldn’t compete.” He wiped his mouth and took a sip of wine. “Walgreens wanted my corner lot in Charlotte and paid me all kinds of money. And one of the auto parts giants bought the other three all in one deal.” He shrugged. “It was kind of hard because it’s family, but, I mean, I still got this one to tool around in—pun intended. Wasn’t like I was ever going to make that kind of money out of the stores. Selling out was the right decision.”

I got up to clear the plates. I rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher that his momma must’ve finally installed. They aren’t a fad, I wanted to tell her again. Frank followed me.

I told myself that I didn’t want to ruin our perfect night, taint it with the stain of our past. But it was true whether I said it out loud or not. And now was as good a time as any. “I thought I was punishing you,” I said.

He cocked his head as I closed the dishwasher door. “When?”

“Having the abortion. I thought I was punishing you.” I paused, picking up the dish towel on the sink. “When you said you were going to Charlotte no matter what, I felt so alone, like you didn’t care about me. And that’s why I disappeared that night to Cheyenne’s. And you didn’t come. I know you didn’t know I was pregnant, but in my mind, you were abandoning me and your baby. I was trying to punish you. But I only punished myself.”

It made no sense. I felt that now. In my mind, I had punished Frank for twenty-two years for something that was my fault. No, he didn’t stand up for me the way I wanted him to. But I had left him. I hadn’t told him about the baby. I had taken a piece of him away without even asking him. It hurt me to admit it, but I was the one to blame for so much of this.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I’m angry that you didn’t tell me. I’m trying to push it away because I’m trying to win you back and say all the right things, but, damn, Diana. That was my kid too.”

My instinct was to argue with him, but I knew he was right. Maybe it was my choice, technically. But Frank and I had loved each other. That baby was his too. It wasn’t a one-night stand; it wasn’t a mistake. The mistake was on me. “You have every right to be mad,” I said. “I thought about it a lot, Frank. I swear I did. But all it came back to was that I was eighteen, and I was going to be alone. I didn’t believe that you would stand up for me, and even if you did, I didn’t want to spend my life knowing that you only married me because I was pregnant. That wasn’t the life I wanted.” I could feel tears in my eyes as I said, “And I paid for it, Frank. I paid for it by never getting to be a mother.”

Frank reached out his hand and pulled me into him. “I was too proud to come get you. I was too proud to beg.” He shrugged. “What we lost hurts, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the idea that we might never have a future together because of the mistakes of our past.”

“We both made mistakes,” I repeated, resting my head on his chest. I felt cleansed somehow, ready to really, truly move on.

He grinned down at me. “How about we take a walk on the beach? There’s a dune down there that I’m quite fond of.”

I thought about telling him, but what in the hell was the point of that? So he could feel all sick every time he had to look at that dune too? No. Some things you just keep to yourself, and it isn’t lying so much as it is protecting. I was protecting him because I loved him. I had caused him enough pain.

As Frank led me by the hand toward the pitch-dark beach and onto the backside of that dune that nobody on earth could see unless they were at Frank’s house, I realized that I’d follow that man anywhere.

So I decided to let it go. I’d make love to Frank on this dune for the second time. And this time I wouldn’t get hurt. This time it wouldn’t be hard. This time I could look out onto this beach and smile and think about the beautiful thing that had happened here. But, just like it had all those years ago, when the best day of my life had turned into the worst one, that damn dune kept on surprising me.