PIERCED - A Stepbrother Romance (11 page)

“What are you doing here?” She slips her phone into her pocket and pulls out keys, jamming them into her door. The door bursts open, bringing a gush of ice cold air, and I follow her in.

“I want to make sense of this.”

“Sense of what?” She’s playing dumb, and it’s really fucking pissing me off.

Lauryn kicks her heels off, which lowers her about a good four inches, and tosses her purse on a nearby chair. She rifles through her ‘fridge and pulls out a bottled water. “Fuck, it’s hot today.”

“Lauryn, look at me.”

She takes a swig and prolongs dragging her gaze my way. She’s acting like a goddamn rebellious child. I step into her space, grabbing her water and setting it down on the counter.

“Don’t do this,” I say. “Don’t shut me out like this. We were making progress. What happened? Don’t you at least have the decency to tell me what the fuck is going through that complicated little head of yours?”

“I know I’m fucked up, Sut,” she says with a breathless, desperate sigh. “I’m damaged. I’m angry and confused, and nothing going through my head makes any sense most days, but my mind is made up. I’m going home.”

“So that’s it? You’re going home. You don’t even want to entertain…
us
?”

“Don’t make this harder than it is,” she says.

I huff. “Yeah, it’s
so
hard on you, isn’t it?”

She’s already started packing. There are boxes labeled with black Sharpie marker. Perfect Lauryn has labeled everything perfectly.

“When are you moving?” I ask.

“Next weekend,” she says without pause. “Plane tickets are booked. Movers are scheduled.”

She rifles through her mail, as if that’s more important than this conversation we’re having. It pisses me the fuck off, and before I realize what I’m doing, I rush into her space, flinging her mail across the room. She freezes, her arms stiff and her eyes two wide circles.

“Stop running,” I growl. Her lips separate slightly. The thought of taking them as mine crosses my mind. It occurs to me that perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong. I back away, and I swear I catch a hint of surrender in her beautiful eyes. “God, it must be exhausting being you.”

“It is,” she says through gritted teeth. “More than you possibly know.”

“Then fucking do something about it.” I back away. I don’t like the way I’m speaking to her. I’ve never yelled at her before. The fear in her eyes sickens me. I’m disgusted with myself. She might frustrate the fuck out of me, but she doesn’t deserve this.

“Give up on me,” she whispers. “I’m telling you. Give up now. It’s not going to get any easier.”

My fists clench at my sides. I’m racking my brain, mentally listing all the reasons why I never gave up on Lauryn Hudson even after all these years. She’s been my everything for as long as I can remember. A life without her is not any kind of life I ever want to live. Something happened that last summer we shared together. It wasn’t the sex. It wasn’t the incessant make out sessions. It wasn’t getting drunks and skinny dipping in the pool in the middle of the night. It wasn’t late night drives, cruising the boulevard and listening to music only we ‘got’. Something changed in me that summer, and then I lost it all before I had a chance to tell her how I felt.

Our past is just as much a part of us as our future, and our future is already written. I fucking know it. I refuse to believe I’m destined to live a life without the only girl I’ve ever truly loved.

I slip away before I say or do anything that might possibly hurt or scare her again. I need space. I need to figure this out.

“Where are you going?” I hear her call out as I reach for the door.

I keep going.

“Dr. Pierce, can you take a picture with us?” My fifth delivery that day stares at me from her end of the bed, a half-crying baby swaddled in her arms. Her husband smiles. I know these two – Monica and Roberto De La Rosa. I’ve delivered all of their kids, and their firstborn was one of the first babies I delivered as a resident.

“Of course.” I flank Monica’s side, and we all lean in while her mother-in-law snaps a picture with her phone.

“You’re practically a part of our family,” Monica says. “This is the fourth baby of ours you’ve delivered.”

It warms my heart, but I’m finding it hard to smile that night.

“When are you going to settle down and have kids?” Monica asks. She pulls her gown aside, and her baby latches on to her swollen breasts. She’s a natural. She probably doesn’t even feel it anymore. “I bet you’d be a great dad.”

“I don’t know,” I say with a polite smile. “Maybe it’ll be on the horizon for me someday. Have to meet the right woman first.”

“Family is everything, doc,” her husband says. He reaches for the baby, who wraps her tiny hand around his pinky. “Being a dad is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“That’s what I hear.” I smile and nod, trying not to think about all the ways in which my life might have turned out differently had my father stuck around. My mom always said it just got to be too hard for him, so he took refuge with a showgirl in Vegas and drank himself to death. I’ve always wondered what kind of father I’d be, never having a good example. “Hopefully someday.”

Even if I won’t be the world’s greatest father, I at least want the chance to try.

I pat Monica on the shoulder and head out to finish charting. When I have a moment, I slip into the on call room and make a phone call.

The number has been in my phone for years, transferred from phone to phone every two years. Never deleted.

My thumb hovers over her name until I take a deep breath and press down.

“Hello?” She answers on the third ring.

“Diane? It’s Sutton.”

“I’m so glad I socked away all that money I made when I still had my looks.” My mother nibbles on the center of a piece of unbuttered whole-wheat toast. Her free hand is looped through the handle of a white porcelain coffee mug. She takes her coffee black, no sugar or cream.

Some things never change.

“You’re still beautiful, Mom.” I cut into the fried egg her housekeeper-slash-chef made me that morning. It’s funny going home and not seeing a team of five people running the household. She’s had to condense over the years.

“Then why can’t I land a single role that doesn’t require I wear gray wigs and go by Mimi or Nana?” She takes an angry sip of her coffee and places it carefully on top of the glass table in the breakfast nook that hosts us. Her gaze is fixed on the tranquil infinity edge pool outside. The water is still without so much as a ripple from the wind. She cocks her head at an angle, still staring ahead. “It’s fine, Lauryn. I’m going to be fine. I saved my money like a good girl. I just miss working. Irrelevance is hard, is all.”

“You’re not irrelevant. Besides, all you ever did was work,” I say. “You should be thankful you could retire at fifty.”

She coughs. I know she’s not fifty. She’s much older than that. She could probably pass for it though. She’s still beautiful and it’s not because of the Botox and mini-face lift.

“I probably worked too much.” She nibbles her toast once again, eating only the crunchy middle and leaving the crust. It reminds me of the way she used to eat pizza, dabbing the grease from the cheese and leaving the crust behind. She’s way too skinny, then again, she’s always been. “I should’ve spent more time with you when I had the chance.”

It feels good to hear her say that. I know it isn’t easy for her to admit. “It’s okay, Mom.”

“I missed out on your childhood, and by the time my career had begun to unwind, you were a teenager. I hardly recognized you. And I’d neglected your father. I abandoned our marriage long before he did.” She pulls her shoulders back, blinking rapidly as if she’s uncomfortable airing the regrets of her past. Good to see years in therapy with Dr. Richmond is finally paying off. Her blonde hair is cut shorter than she used to wear it, with big wide curls surrounding her face. If Marilyn Monroe would’ve made it to my mother’s age, I bet they’d look like sisters. Her fingers twitch, like she’d give anything for a cigarette. It’s been a long time since she kicked her nicotine addiction, but some habits never fully go away. “I made a lot of mistakes, Lauryn. I’m not proud of them.”

“No one’s perfect.” I take a sip of my orange juice, feeling like a kid. I should be drinking coffee like a grown up, but it feels good to slip into our mother-daughter roles. They’re comfy, like an old pair of jeans. At least for me. Sure, Diane Hudson has rows upon rows of Oscars, Tonys, and Emmys, but her biggest achievement was raising me. Her love for me was fierce and unwavering, even if she spent most of my childhood hard at work. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“My point, Lauryn, is that I blamed a lot of people for my own pain and suffering,” she says, still staring at the tranquil pool. She takes a slow sip of coffee and turns her body toward me. Her hand slides across the table, covering mine as if to tell me she’s about to say something important. “If we are unhappy in life, it is no one’s fault but our own. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

I stare down at my empty plate.

“Are you happy, darling?” she asks. Her brows raise and her mouth curls into a half-smile. I’m torn between telling her the truth and telling her what she wants to hear. Her blue eyes sparkle and shine, something I missed for many years. It’s good to see it back. “You can be honest.”

Pulling in a deep breath, I declare, “I’m miserable, Mom.”

“Is it because of James? You miss him?”

“Oh, God, no.” I laugh. “Colette DuBois can have him. Good riddance.”

“In the end, Lauryn, it’s people who matter. Not awards. Not accomplishments. Not accolades and achievements. It’s relationships.” Mom pulls her hand back and offers a full smile. “Those should be the driving forces in your life. Don’t let someone go because you think you need to find yourself. You’ll always find yourself no matter what.”

It’s as if she knows about Sutton, but I know that would be impossible. She hasn’t spoken to him in years, nor has she spoke of Sandra and Dad. She couldn’t know.

I stand up, taking my plate to the kitchen. “I’m going to go on a run. Need to clear my head a bit.”

***

I’m glazed in sweat, my heart pounding. Thirty minutes of jogging the gated, tree-lined streets of my mother’s neighborhood and I’m almost as good as new. I’m gulping water and gasping for air, but my body will thank me later.

“Hey, Mom,” I call as I kick off my sneakers at the back door. I wipe my forehead against the sleeve of my running jacket and fan my cherry red cheeks. “Thinking of going to the farmer’s market after I shower. You want to come with?”

My mother doesn’t respond, but she could be anywhere. That big mansion of hers had a tendency to swallow people whole sometimes.

“Mom?” I call out.

I round the corner and peek my head into her office, the library, and inside her dressing room.

“Mom?” I yell at the top of my lungs, the way a kindergartener might.

“In here.” Her voice trails from the south end of the house, near the family room. I jog down the hall, stopping short the second I see she’s not alone. “There you are.”

My mother smiles, and my eyes land on the back of a man’s head. His hair is dark and shiny, perfectly combed. His shoulders are taut and familiar. He turns to face me and my breath catches in my throat. The room smells of his cologne. My mother’s house hasn’t smelled of ‘man’ in years.

“What are you doing here?” I fight a smile. A small part of me is happy to see him and the rest of me hates him for complicating everything. My  travels to my mother’s face. I have to know she’s okay.

Mom smiles, giving me her silent blessing, and stands to leave without saying a single word.

“Hi, Lauryn,” Sutton says. He rises and motions for me to sit next to him. He’s wearing dark jeans and a fitted polo in an exotic shade of aquamarine. I’m not used to seeing him in much else but scrubs. He looks…ordinary in the best of ways. He’s not a doctor. He’s not my temporary colleague. He’s just Sutton Pierce.

“Why are you here? In Brentwood?”

“Had to get your mom’s permission,” he says with the kind of half-smirk a rebellious teenager might wear when up to no good.

“Permission for what?” My arms cross.

“To relentlessly pursue you.” He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I haven’t moved. I’m still standing in the doorway. He comes to me, placing his hand against the side of my rosy cheek. I’m still flushed and hot from my jog, and standing in his presence, I’m now fifty degrees hotter. Just when I gain my breath, I lose it all over again.

“I’m not giving up on you this time, Lauryn,” he says. “I’m not letting you walk out of my life for another ten years.”

Our eyes catch. I’m not sure what to say.

“We’re not getting any younger.” He traces the side of his thumb across my lips, and I can feel the weight of his  on them. I shut my eyes, breathing him in, basking in this moment and trying to comprehend if it feels amazing or terrifying or a little of both. “We could’ve had a life together these last ten years. We could’ve been jumping from airplanes, backpacking through Europe, scaling Everest. Shit, I don’t know. But instead you stayed hidden away, and I buried myself in my career. Thought I could make a life without you but I’m not happy without you.”

I release a captured breath and open my eyes. He’s concentrating on my face.

“You push, I’ll pull even harder,” he says. He lowers his mouth to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. “And that’s a promise.” His lips hover over mine. “Kind of the way it’s always been, right?”

I nod. “You don’t know when to stop.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Everything.” I bite my lip. “But mostly you.”