Bent Not Broken (A Cedar Creek #1) (33 page)

“I see your point, son. I’m just not sure what to tell you.” This wasn’t really getting us anywhere. I hesitated to step in and give my five cents, but both Cal and Tommy wanted me to be a part of this, so I figured I should be as honest and supportive as possible.

“Listen, Tommy,” I called his attention to me. His eyes moved from his father to me and he waited. “I know this is all very confusing. Your dad and I feel the same way. But you know what, this isn’t about what is the right choice and what is the wrong choice. It’s more about which choice you can live with and which you can’t.” Tommy narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in confusion. “Imagine your life ten or fifteen or twenty years down the road, maybe you have your own children by then, maybe you don’t. But imagine yourself in the future, not having given your mother a chance to be a part of your life, which means not having given
yourself
the chance to get to know your mother and be a part of her life, would you regret it? Would you regret not knowing what could have been? Even if it doesn’t work out and she goes back on everything she said. At least then you know that
you
have tried, that
you
opened that door and gave her a chance. Is there a chance that you might get hurt in the process? Absolutely. But you still have a pretty awesome dad, who will make sure that if that happens, you’ll come out the other side.” I paused. Then I took his hand in mine and squeezed it as I continued. “And Tommy, I’ll be here for you was well if you’ll have me. Even if your dad and I weren’t dating, you can always talk to me, and I’ll do anything in my power to support you.”

Silence.

Absolute silence surrounded me.

My stomach dropped.

Oh my God. Had I gone too far? Damn it! I should have kept my mouth shut.

Tommy was staring at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. When he moved his eyes away from mine and looked to my side at his father, my head moved with him to see that Cal was staring at me. His eyes had an intensity to them I had never seen before. They were almost always intense, but this was something else.

Not knowing what it meant, my body went still instantly. We stayed like this, staring at each other for what seemed like hours, though it could only have been a minute. Then in a flash, I wasn’t sitting next to him. I was sitting in his lap with his mouth on mine, and he was devouring me.

This was not just a kiss.

It felt like a statement, a promise, a vow.

I had never felt anything like it. Sure, I had read a lot of romance novels and the heroines always shared life-altering kisses with their destined men. But nobody had ever told me that kisses like that actually existed.

I felt claimed. Totally and completely.

Body, mind, and soul.

When Cal tore his mouth from mine, we were both breathing hard. He framed my face with his hands, touched his forehead to mine, and again looked deep into my eyes when he said in a voice rough with emotion, “That was beautiful, baby. Thank you for giving that to my son.”

Wow. That was really nice.

“You’re welcome,” was all I could reply in my current state of newfound claimedness. Cal touched his lips to mine again for a soft peck this time, then moved me back into my original position next to him on the couch, but kept me close with an arm around my shoulder.

Tommy’s mouth was no longer hanging open and his eyes were no longer wide. He was grinning at us huge, so huge that his face looked in danger of being split in half. I was a little embarrassed at exposing him to heavy PDA like that, but neither him, nor Cal seemed to mind. So I decided to get over it.

“So, what’s your advice?” Tommy asked me. I took a deep breath. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“How about we start with a compromise? You haven’t seen or talked to your mother in almost nine years. She left when you were a baby. You and your dad are understandably a little wary. Though, I do give your mother credit for the fact that she didn’t just show up at your front door out of the blue, but contacted your father first to see how receptive he was going to be. That’s pretty huge and I’m sure that took a lot of courage. But ultimately, you are the one that is calling the shots in this scenario, so my advice would be to go slow. Let her call you, talk on the phone, test the waters. If that’s all you wanna do, she’ll have to respect that. If you’re willing to go a step further, start skyping with her. That works, great. It doesn’t, then it doesn’t. Meet her in person when you’re ready for it,
only
when you’re ready for it. Don’t let anybody push you into something that you aren’t ready for.” Cal gave my shoulders a squeeze and I stopped talking, suspecting he had something to say. I was right.

“Ivey is right, Tommy. Everything she’s said is absolutely right. I’m your dad. You can always count on me. Ivey will be in our life always, so you can count on her as well. Your gramma and grandpa, too. Your aunt and your uncle. This is a big life lesson, son. Giving forgiveness to someone, who has hurt you, is not easy. Asking for forgiveness is just as hard, if not harder. I agree with Ivey. Start slow. Talk to her. Get to know her over the phone, then move it up a step if you feel comfortable. And, son, there is no guilt on your part. If you don’t feel comfortable, you stop. No guilt, no accusations. You have a good head on your shoulders, and I am confident you’ll make the decisions that are right for you. But remember, I am you’re dad and it’s my job to take care of you. That means I feel like it’s getting to you or you’re doing it for the wrong reasons, I’ll put a stop to it. Yeah?”

“Yeah, dad.”

“You agree with going slow? Talking to your mother on the phone?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I’ll call her tomorrow. Let her know what we decided.” Tommy nodded hesitantly.

“You sure you’re okay to do it like this, honey?” Tommy nodded again.

“I just… I… what do I call her?”

“Whatever you want, honey,” I told him.

“I don’t wanna call her
mom
, but isn’t that what she would want me to call her?”

“Son, you don’t wanna call her
mom
, you don’t have to. Call her by her name, then see how it goes. Good?” Cal said gently.

“Okay, dad.”

Later that night, Cal showed me his appreciation and gratitude for saying what I had said to Tommy. And he did so phenomenally, namely making me come first with his mouth and fingers, then taking me there again by using three different positions, ending both of us on our knees, with Cal behind me pounding and slamming into me hard while at the same time playing between my legs, and me holding onto the headboard and moaning my release.

After, he held me in his arms. His fingers were gently drawing patterns on my naked back as we whispered sweet nothings to each other. It had been the best night of my life. Not just because of the out of this world orgasms Cal had given me, but because I felt a level of intimacy between Cal and me that touched my heart. I never,
never
wanted to let go of that feeling.

That was eight weeks ago. Since then, Tommy had talked to Stacy on the phone about once a week. It was going okay so far, though something seemed a little off. I had a feeling that Tommy was confused or undecided about something. Every time as soon as he hung up, he would go and sit by himself for a little while, lost in his thoughts. This made me a little edgy, since with everything else Tommy was the most open and outgoing eleven-year-old I knew. But I told myself that he needed time to adjust. So for now, I would keep my eye on him and so would Cal. Soon, though, if he didn’t start talking about it on his own, we would have to sit him down.

*****

As we had done form the start, from Friday through Sunday, we stayed at my house—and every Sunday I set out a phenomenal breakfast spread, it was one of our new traditions—, school nights we spent at Cal’s house. It was an arrangement that made sense, but quite frankly, it was getting kind of tedious.

I had doubled up on all my toiletries, so at least I didn’t have to schlepp that back and forth all the time. On my days off on Mondays, I also switched out my overnight bag, washed all my dirty clothes, ironed what needed to be ironed, packed new sets of clothes that would last me for a few days until I came back to packed new things a couple of days later, and cleaned my house top to bottom.

I missed my house.

I missed coming home, not just for a weekend or to grab something I needed or pack a new bag of clothes, but to settle in for the night, not having to worry about where I left my stuff, if I put things where they were supposed to go, if I cleaned up after myself, or if being a little messy would annoy Cal. He was freakishly tidy. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a big fan of messes myself, but I also didn’t have the urge to have everything squeaky clean and one hundred percent tidy all the time. For example, I didn’t hang up my clothes when I took them off before going to bed. Well, most of the time—or let’s say every night—Cal took them off for me and they ended up strewn all over the floor anyway. But even in the morning, I didn’t make sure they either ended up in the laundry basket or went back in the closet. When I was at Cal’s, I would grab them off the floor—but only because I knew it annoyed him if I didn’t—and stuff them in my bag. At home, I wouldn’t even bother picking them up for a few days. My house was clean. I cleaned the whole thing top to bottom once a week. But my bedroom was messy and I didn’t care. It was my room, it was comfortable, and it wasn’t like you couldn’t see the floor for all the dirty underwear covering it. But spending as many nights as I did at Cal’s house, I had to adjust to how he liked things done at his house. Or so I told myself.

I also missed my porch.

Sitting out there at night after a long day, music playing in the house so I could hear it sitting in my Adirondack chair, looking out over the town, sipping my beer, was something, before Cal and I got together, I did whenever I could, almost every night. And every morning with my coffee. Even in the winter, I would bundle up and bring a blanket, so it wouldn’t get too cold. Cal didn’t have a porch like mine, and I really, really missed it.

Not to mention now that we had Stella, I always had to be on the lookout. It was a little easier now that she was house trained, but I still had to make sure that she stayed in her routine and didn’t think she had the run of the house. We had set her up at both places, which also meant doubling up on everything a puppy needed. Tripling up actually, because I had been taking her to
Serendipity
with me, and let me tell you, logging all her stuff around was no fun. Stella loved being at the store and getting cuddles and kisses from everyone. Sometimes, I would take her with me to the front of the store, sometimes I would set her up in the back room, depending on how busy it was. She was doing great. The most perfect puppy I had ever had. Okay, she was also the only puppy I had ever had, but I couldn’t imagine a happier and better puppy than my Stella. She was eager to learn and easy to train. Thinking about watching Tommy train with her every afternoon after school made me smile to myself.

My Friday Spa Nights were something else I missed.

It had been awhile since I could turn on music and soak in the tub for hours, enjoying a beer or a glass of wine, and letting my thoughts roam, recapping my week, spoiling myself with a mani and pedi and maybe a facial, and just be. Yes, we spend Friday nights at my house, but seeing as it was the end of the busy work and school week for both Cal and Tommy and it was time to wind down and relax into family time, they always wanted to do something, like go to the movies, go out for dinner, cook a big and complicated meal for the three of us, or sit down and make plans for the weekend. Don’t get me wrong. I loved that we spent that much time together and that being together as a family was as natural as it was necessary to them.

But sometimes a woman just needed some time to herself.

So today, I would do exactly that.

I wanted my quiet Spa Night and I was going to get it.

It was Monday morning, the Monday before the long Thanksgiving weekend. I was looking forward to this weekend. It was going be a blast. Thanksgiving would be spent at Betty and Pete’s house. Cal told me it was tradition and I loved that. Loved that I was part of something that meant I would be part of that tradition, too.

Cal’s sister Carla, who I had met before but didn’t know she was his sister, was coming to town with her husband and two kids. I was excited to meet them as Cal’s girlfriend. As far as I could remember, Carla was fun if a little crazy, so I figured we would get along just fine, since I have been informed recently that I could be a little crazy as well. I hadn’t met her husband John, yet, nor did I know their children, but Tommy gave me a run down on what they were like, and they all sounded really down to earth. Crazy, but I liked that. Carla was older than Cal by five years. She and John were college sweethearts and got married right after they graduated. They started a family right away, so their children were a little older than Tommy. Dylan was fourteen and Hunter was twelve.

Betty had also invited Macy and her family over for Thanksgiving.

“No way a woman that far along should slave in the kitchen all day. She’ll come over and kick back, gab, and let us deal with the cooking. Her husband and kids can play football with my boys and be outta her hair for a few hours.”