All Fixed Up (36 page)

Once it was ascertained that everyone was safe, and the initial shock had dissipated, Mom and Auntie Mo organized us into teams to sweep up glass and tape thick sheet plastic over the broken windows. Before Mark left to wade through red tape and tie up loose ends for his bosses, I pulled him aside into the library and music room. All the family pictures had toppled from the piano, and books were scattered on the floor.

“What is it, Howdy? I need to go make sure things are getting wrapped up.”

“I know. I won't keep you. I just wanted to tell you … I mean, this past week has been so busy, I never got a chance … it didn't feel right to text you, and Billy was with me every minute, like you told him to be, so I couldn't call, and well, I, um…”

His face went carefully blank, but not before I saw a flash of something—disappointment?—in his eyes. “You started your period.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. Not because
I
was disappointed—I honestly wasn't sorry not to have impending motherhood hanging over me like some big procreational Sword of Damocles. “Yup. So you don't need to worry about me anymore.”

His mouth quirked. It was almost a smile … but not quite. “Old habits die hard. But I'll adjust.” He ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head, just like old times.

I stopped him when he turned to go. “Mark…”

He looked back, with a questioning tilt of his head.

“It might have been good for us, right? If things had been different.”

“Yeah, Howdy. It might have.” This time it was a smile, but it was the kind you see on the face of someone having a pleasant memory of a loved one who'd died. Melancholy. It simultaneously broke and melted my heart.

“I never stopped loving you, you know,” I blurted, appalling myself.

Jesus, Ciel, just because something is true doesn't mean you should say it out loud, especially if saying it might hurt the other person.

I rushed on, trying to fix it, to make him understand. “Not even after my relationship with Billy grew so fast. You said it yourself … old habits.”

God, that sounded worse, like he was in the same category as a nicotine addiction or something. Crap, shut up before you fuck up your friendship beyond all repair.

But my mouth wasn't taking advice from my brain. “See, the problem is, I love you both—and nobody can tell me that's not possible, because I damn well know it is.” I sucked in a breath too fast, and nearly choked on it. “Jesus, I'm really making a mess of this, aren't I? Like I do everything. The thing is, Billy doesn't just love me. He
needs
me. And I guess … I need to be needed.” I screwed up my mouth in an effort not to cry. “It's one of my quirks.”

He nodded, not touching me, his eyes as soft as I'd ever seen them. When he spoke, his voice was a tiny bit hoarse. “Howdy … I understand. I do. Don't worry. It'll be okay. We can make being friends work. I promise.”

And then he was gone.

Shit.
Why had I said anything beyond letting him know I wasn't pregnant? That would have been the smart thing, the kind thing, to do. Now he probably thought I was trying to keep him dangling, in case things didn't work out with Billy. And I
wasn't.

The lady doth protest too much
,
methinks.

Great. A fine time for my bitch of a subconscious to channel Shakespeare.

But this time I didn't automatically leap into denial. Instead, I worked like a fiend for the next hour, trying to assess my feelings in an adult way. Sweeping, taping, hauling things too damaged to be repaired out to the garbage, anything to keep my hands busy while my mind tried to sort out what I truly felt, and for whom.

Molly found me in the basement. “Ciel, come on—Auntie Ro says we've done everything we can here for now. We're all going to my house. You have to carry a cat.”

So we all trooped over to the Doyle homestead, dusty, disheveled, and exceedingly happy no one was injured, cats inclusive. Grumpy had draped himself over my shoulder and was, near as I could tell, actively engaged in unraveling the Grinch sweater I'd changed into. When Uncle Liam started singing “Jingle Bells” along the way, we all joined in. Molly switched to the “Batman smells” version for the second verse. We all—even the parents—joined in on that one, too, laughing it up in our post-trauma giddiness at being alive.

Happily, the Doyle house had escaped damage. Mom and Auntie Mo set to work in the kitchen preparing lunch, deftly maneuvering between cats who were trying to convince them feline starvation was imminent. (Another thing to be thankful for: the peanut butter and oyster quiches had been forgotten in the chaotic aftermath of the blast, and had burned to a crisp.)

Dad and Uncle Liam retired to the study to research building plans for a new, improved grotto and a bigger pond. Thomas, Bri, James, and Devon helped Molly set up her new drum set in the basement while Laura, Sinead, and Siobhan watched and offered suggestions. Looked like there was an after-lunch recital in the offing. Considering Molly only knew the one number, it was probably not such a bad thing all of our ears were still a bit numb from the blast.

Billy cut me away from the herd and took me upstairs to his old room. He closed the door and produced a small package from behind his back.

I must have looked alarmed, because he tugged my hair and said, “Don't worry, it's not a ring.”

“Huh. I wasn't worried at all,” I said, relieved all the same.

I ripped off the iridescent light green paper and flipped open the velvet case. The piece was almost exactly like my parachute pin, only with two canopies instead of one. I looked up at him, puzzled.

“I got it back from Thomas after he told me how you ran into your burnt-up condo like a big dummy”—I stuck my tongue out at him—“to get it. Even after I was such an idiot in Houston.”

“Why the extra canopy? It's beautiful, of course, but you didn't have to do that.”

“It's the emergency 'chute for when I'm acting like a fool. Ciel, I
will
always be there to catch you, I swear. But I can't promise I'll never do anything stupid again.” He smiled ruefully. “Being me and all. The extra is to remind you not to give up on me. And to remind
me
that you're my parachute, too.”

“It's gorgeous. I love it. But, damn, it's going to make my other present to you look so lame by comparison.”

“I don't need anything else—I love my necktie. Actually, I was kind of hoping the rest of my gift would be what we
do
with the tie.” He grinned wickedly.

“Oh, you can count on that. But I got you something else you might find handy.” I rummaged through my shoulder bag and pulled out a package wrapped in blue paper with a flat silver ribbon around it.

“Feels like a book,” he said after careful inspection.

I quirked my mouth. “Can't put anything past you savants.”

“Ha ha. Now, let's see what you think I'd like to read…” He ripped it open and burst out laughing. “Can't fault your reasoning.” He tossed
Relationships for Dummies
onto the water bed and jumped on beside it, sending waves rolling through the mattress. “But I think I prefer hands-on learning. Come here.”

“Billy! This is your parents' house.”

“Wuss.”

“We can't—”

“Wimp.”

“Someone might hear—”

“Chicken.”

“I am
not
chicken. I simply have certain standards of behav—”

He started clucking.

And that's all it took. My heart leapt so high I thought it might fly out the top of my head. I knew part of me would always love Mark, but Billy was the one who made my soul sing with laughter. I might tell myself I chose him because he needed me to fix him, but I needed him every bit as much.

“
Argh.
You are impossible,” I said. My heart might be singing, but my brain was still worried about getting caught.

“Improbable, maybe, but not impossible. Aren't we all?”

I wasn't sure if he was talking about men in general or adaptors. I was going to ask, but the question somehow evaporated when he shifted his weight, making the mattress ripple enticingly.

I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to stem the rush of heat to my … um, yeah. To be honest, I'd wondered more than once what it might be like to make love on his relic from the seventies. The possibility of all that wave action was intriguing.

“Damn it,” I said, admitting defeat. I locked the door and returned to his side. “Okay. But we have to hurry. They'll be waiting for us downstairs.”

He pulled me down and rolled on top of me, rocking us both on gentle waves. “Finally having the object of my adolescent fantasies in this bed with me? For real this time, instead of my lurid imagination? Trust me, hurrying won't be a problem.”

I lifted my mouth to his and kissed him, slowly, ending with a heartfelt sigh. “Pleeease tell me you have a condom.” I know. Not exactly romantic, but I wasn't quite ready to trust my future to the patch on my hip yet.

Dimples dented his cheeks. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful, in assorted colors and textures, no less. “Lady's choice.”

 

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I'd like to extend a very special thank-you to Robert Hanley (NASA Flight Operations) for his helpful—and entertaining!—information about all things astronautical. If anything I've written seems off-kilter to the NASA nerds (Renee' Ross, I'm looking at you) who may be reading, let's just blame Robert, shall we? Oh, all right. Let's
not.
My conscience won't allow it. The fact is, I may have taken a few liberties here and there. It's what fiction writers do. But the kidney stone?
That
we can safely blame on Robert.

Second, thank you to my brother Eddie for introducing me to Robert. (See above.)

Third, thank you to my other two brothers, Steve and Rick, so they won't think I'm playing favorites.

Fourth, thank you once again to my mother for the “God punishes right away” thing. I've gotten a lot of mileage out of it over the years. Plus, if I mentioned all my brothers and left her out, no telling what The Big Guy Upstairs might do to me.

Special thanks to Karla “Kuddles” Nellenbach, aka “Grumpy Bear,” the sweet … er, I mean totally badass cruise director for the Ciel Halligan Advance Reader Copy tours. She's the one who sees to it that an ARC gets mailed through the pipeline from one volunteer early reader to the next. Speaking of which, thank you to all my early readers! You guys are the best.

My eternal gratitude goes (again) to my generous crew of critique partners, beta readers, and cheerleaders: Elise Skidmore, Kris Reekie, Julie Kentner, Sarah Meral, Tiffany Schmidt, Tawna Fenske, Emily Hainsworth, and Sara Walker. You guys have saved me from more typos and continuity blunders than I'll ever admit to publicly. (Oh, wait. I guess I just did. Oops.) Of course, some mistakes always slip through, no matter how many eyes search for them. What can I say? It's like some sort of law in the publishing universe.

Additionally, I'd like to thank my lovely niece, Allie Cappelli, for the family discount on proofreading. There's more pumpkin-spice pound cake where that came from.

My heartfelt gratitude goes once more to the members of Team Ciel: Super-Agent Michelle Wolfson, Editor Extraordinaire Melissa Frain, Editorial Assistant par Excellence Amy Stapp, and the host of other Tor denizens who have made it possible for me to share Ciel's stories with you. You guys rock!

Finally, thank you to Bob, always and forever the keeper of my heart.

 

Tor Books by
Linda Grimes

In a Fix

Quick Fix

The Big Fix

All Fixed Up

 

About the Author

LINDA GRIMES
is a former English teacher and ex-actress now channeling her love of words and drama into writing. She grew up in Texas and currently resides in northern Virginia with her husband. You can sign up for email updates
here
.