One to Tell the Grandkids (18 page)

She raised her head to give her friend an incredulous stare. “Really?” She grabbed his hand and pressed it against the obvious swell of her belly. “It couldn’t possibly be because I’m pregnant with another man’s baby, right? Not just any guy but his best friend. Tell me that doesn’t have disaster written all over it.”

“Babycakes, everything good has disaster written all over it. If it were boring, we wouldn’t be attracted to it, and it wouldn’t be worth doing.”

“You know what else has disaster written all over it? Actual disaster. Do you know how quickly I can destroy my own life?” She gestured at her stomach. “I mean, obviously I’m good at making those kinds of decisions, but I’m not—”

“Taryn.” Rob shook his head. “Calm down. Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I’m not telling you to drug the guy and drag him off to Vegas under the influence. I’m saying would it be so bad to see how he reacts to a gentle flirt?”

“I don’t think I am overreacting. If he wanted me, he’d have kissed me when he had the chance. I can’t make things awkward between us.”

“What if he’s worried about the same thing? You won’t know until you ask.”

Taryn’s breath caught. She’d only just accepted the fact she had a crush—maybe more than a crush—on Caleb. Her protesting mind had not yet had time to contemplate the idea that maybe, just maybe, Caleb might have been harboring a crush of his own. Her head swam and her heart leapt at the thought, hope burgeoning before she could squash it flat. For the space of a breath, fairy-tale images of happily ever after floated before her.

She shook her head to clear it. “And what if he does feel the same?” Her voice was strained and tired as she spoke. “What then, Rob? What are we supposed to tell Slate?”

“You and Slate have already had that conversation. If you’re not interested in each other, you’re both on the market again. One day you will have to have that conversation with him anyway.”

“Caleb is Slate’s best friend. His brother.”

“The only thing that matters is he’s not
your
brother.” When Taryn glared, he continued. “What if the situation were reversed? What if I wanted to date Slate? Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. That boy is too cute and sweet.”

That coaxed a smile out of Taryn. “I’d be fine with it.”

“Well then.”

“But what if Slate wouldn’t be? What if Caleb feels the same? What if we could figure it all out, but Slate isn’t okay with it?”

“Then honestly, baby, fuck him. Really. He doesn’t get a say in who you date. Knocking you up doesn’t give him special privileges over your life.”

“Doesn’t it?” Taryn looked away, her hand protective over her bump, her daughter. “If it pissed Slate off, made things strained between us, don’t I have a responsibility not to do it?”

“Not for nothing, but you know what my answer to that is going to be.” He crossed his arms, his expression stern. “I was raised by a mother who didn’t leave my father ‘for the kids.’ That’s the biggest load of bullshit ever spouted by anyone. Honey, you know life isn’t a picnic. It wasn’t for you, and it’s not going to be for her, even if you do try to shelter her. The best thing you can do for your baby is teach her by example to go for what makes her happy in life, despite what anyone else says, as long as it’s reasonable. It’s reasonable for you to lust after your baby daddy’s bff.” He grinned. “He is so very pretty.”

Taryn closed her eyes and leaned against Rob’s chest again. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. If we could tell the future, it would make life a whole lot less interesting.”

“Sometimes I think I could do with less interesting.” Taryn rubbed her hand over her daughter. “But then again—”

Her cell phone ringing interrupted. She straightened up and pulled it out of her pocket. “Speak of the devil.” She connected the call. “Hey, Caleb.”

He didn’t speak right away. In fact, for a few seconds, all she heard was his labored breath. “Caleb? Are you okay? Caleb?”

He swallowed hard.

“What’s wrong?” Taryn asked. Her stomach twisted.

“It’s my sister.”

Taryn’s heart plummeted to her toes. “What happened?”

“She stopped breathing.”

For two heartbeats, Taryn did, too. “Are you at the hospital now?”

“I’m getting in my car right now. I just . . . I don’t know why I called you.”

“Stay put a second. I’ll get you. We’ll go together.”

“Taryn . . .”

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

He paused. “I . . . thank you.”

“I’ll be right there.”

On the way back from the convalescent home, Caleb couldn’t think.

It was not so much that he couldn’t, but he simply wasn’t. He wasn’t thinking, and he wasn’t feeling anything at all. Thoughts buzzed in his head and emotions tugged at his heart, but they were pushed away, muted for the moment. He sat in the passenger’s seat of Taryn’s car, watching the buildings go by, watching people mill as though it were any other day.

Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, images played, memories. He remembered when Ann had been first diagnosed. Though he had always been a man who believed you determined your own destiny, when they got the news, he knew her fate was written. She would die of that disease. There was no maybe. It was a certainty, a piece of her future already preordained at birth. He knew then it would be horrible to watch. She would deteriorate and waste away, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. The only uncertainty was the exact date.

He filled it in now in his mental calendar along with every other important date. Ann’s birthday, his father’s, Slate’s, his parents’ anniversary—he still remembered—his mother’s date of death, and now Ann’s. The numbers went around and around his head—markers he would remember every year for the rest of his life.

They arrived at his house, the house where they’d all been a family, and Caleb remembered wrestling on the grass with his sister. Ann was every bit as tough as a big brother would have been. When she beat him and he pouted, she teased him. “
Don’t be mad, Caley. There’s no shame being beaten by a girl. I’m just better than you
.”

“Can we, um . . . do you think we could go to your place? Just for a while?” He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I shouldn’t be inviting myself over.”

“No, it’s fine. Anything you need.” Taryn put the car in reverse and backed out of his driveway. The weight on Caleb’s shoulders lightened in an instant. It wasn’t gone by a longshot, but he couldn’t deny he was relieved.

“Thank you,” he said. He wanted to speak again, to tell her how grateful he was for all she’d done today. She’d never left his side. More than that, she seemed to have an instinct for what he needed. Like now. Taryn didn’t question his motives, and she didn’t ask any questions at all. Not a lot of people could have let the silence stretch between them, especially given the circumstances.

She was still quiet when they pulled up to her house. She waited for him by the head of the car so they could walk in her door together. They were close enough that their fingers brushed, but she didn’t reach for his hand. Again, he was grateful. More than one knot in the snarled mess of emotions he’d pushed away to be dealt with at some undetermined time belonged to her.

There was a buzz beneath his skin that made him want to power through the next few days, the inevitable sequence of events that had to happen whenever a person died. Ann’s funeral had to be planned. He would have to deal with his father and other relatives and friends who’d pushed Ann to the back of their minds, waiting for this moment. They’d all written her off so long ago, nothing left to do until they could pay their last respects. Then he would put his sister in the ground, and this whole ordeal, from diagnosis to death, would be done.

But there was nothing he could do right then except wait for time to pass. He had an appointment with the funeral director the next day, but his official duties were done for the night. He stood in Taryn’s entryway and stared forward, unseeing. His hands twitched at his sides, but he couldn’t figure out what to do with them.

“Have you eaten anything at all today?” Taryn asked. “I could make you something. Or we can order pizza.”

His stomach was as empty as his head. “No, I . . . thank you.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

Her voice was so gentle and unassuming. Caleb considered her question, but he couldn’t find the will in him to want to move. If he couldn’t fast-forward through to after the funeral, after the last relative left, he wanted to stay absolutely still. If he didn’t move, didn’t try to breathe, maybe he could remain in this anoetic state. He shook his head to answer Taryn’s question.

“Caleb—”

“That’s not normal, by the way. The way she died I mean. It’s not normal.”

Taryn was quiet. She took a step toward him, but she didn’t say a word.

“The nurse was getting her dressed for the day. He turned away to get her socks, and when he turned back, she exhaled and went still.”

“Caleb.”

“I always wondered how she would go. More often than not, it’s not the disease that kills them. I’ve heard so many stories. Some die like my mom, in accidents because of the jerking. People bash their heads open falling out of beds or choke to death. Annie, I think she just decided she was done.”

“Caleb.”

“I don’t blame her. Who could blame her? It wasn’t a life, what she had.” Caleb shut his mouth because that line of thinking was dangerous. If he thought about Ann’s life as it had been the last couple of years, he would have to acknowledge part of the reason he was so pissed off at his father was because he knew John had a point. The woman in the bed hadn’t really been Ann. The truth was, Ann had slipped away in between fits of rage and a progressive deterioration of function.

Caleb rubbed his eyes. They felt sore for some reason. “I don’t—”

“Caleb.” Taryn wrapped her hand around his wrist and tugged to get his attention.

His eyes found hers. He thought of how different it had been the last couple of weeks. Every other day or so, when he went to visit Ann, Taryn was with him more often than not.

Ann would have liked her. She would have teased Caleb about his crush. That was what big sisters did with their little brothers.

Caleb didn’t want to think about alternate universes where his big sister was alive and well.

Taryn moved her hand to his shoulder and squeezed with a light touch. Still locked in her stare, Caleb put a hand to her waist. He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe he expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. He took a step forward so their bodies nearly touched. Her eyes searched his, but still, she didn’t move away. He pressed forward again, and she had to step back because they couldn’t occupy the same space. They were out of room and her back was up against the wall. He paused and stared. He waited for her to tell him to stop.

She didn’t.

So he kissed her.

He felt the shudder of her breath hot on his lips, the smallest sign of her surprise or disbelief, but then she kissed him back. It was everything Caleb had imagined it could be, the culmination of every intense moment between them these weeks or months—who could tell how long he’d wanted this. Lightning shot down his spine, and he felt like he could fly.

But what was he doing? His sister was dead. This happiness couldn’t be right. Guilt threatened, and Caleb growled because he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He wanted this. He wanted a handful of seconds that were only him and Taryn and this thing that existed between them.

He kissed her again, harder this time, needy. He kissed her like a man who was about to be ripped away from the woman he loved, and when no one came to drag her from him, he lifted her up into his arms.

He needed her then because he was acutely aware that time was only granted in undefined increments. Taryn was warm in his arms, but it wouldn’t be that way forever. He had now, and he had no desire to waste this precious gift. With his mouth still connected to hers, he carried her to her room and lay her down on the bed. He was over her in a heartbeat, claiming her lips again.

With his hand on her shoulder, he paused. He brushed his lips over her chin, giving her the chance to tell him to stop. She didn’t. Instead, she reached between them and cupped him through his pants. He groaned because it felt good, and despite how good it was, he instantly wanted more. He told her so with that one word. “More,” he said as his deft fingers made short work of the buttons of her shirt.

“Want you,” he said as he dipped his head, covering her mouth in possessive, desperate kisses.

“Need you,” he said as his fingers found the curve of her breast. He traced the shape of her nipples, memorizing the hard feel of them between his fingertips and the way she whimpered when he touched her like that.

His hand fell to her belly, and he rested his palm over the taut convex line of skin. His sister’s life was over, but here a life was just beginning, just forming, her possibilities limitless. Pain and joy. Terror and wonder. Moments just like this, so perfect despite everything that said it should not be, laid out in front of her, undefined and unclaimed.