Rugged (31 page)

“Laurel?” Callie sounds more than tired; she sounds sad. “What if my marriage really is falling apart?” She looks up at me, her eyes bright with tears. “What if David is tired of me? Of us? All of it, the kids, the house, the—”

“Hey.” I crouch down next to her, giving Lily a dropped bottle. “No one could get tired of you. You’re a gorgeous, fun, snappy woman. I mean, who doesn’t love that?”

Callie sighs and takes the tissue I offer. “I’m just afraid we’re never going to get back to where we were before the kids were born. You know? Rested. Happy. Having sex. Happily having sex.”

“Well, there’s always another chance,” I say, grinning as we get up and I point to the doors. “Look who just waltzed in.”

Callie turns around, a puzzled look on her face. The bemused expression evaporates when she finds that the mystery man, standing there with a suitcase in hand, is none other than David. Flint’s next to him, looking from his brother-in-law to his sister with quick, calculating glances. I can practically see the thought bubble over his head: ‘Okay, no one’s killed anyone yet. Things are going smoothly.’

“David?” Callie’s voice is soft and startled. She looks a lot younger when she’s surprised—the almost permanent frowny V crease in her forehead lifts entirely. David comes toward his wife slowly, looking like he’s walking into a dream.

“Callie?” David sets his bag down. The two of them stare at each other for a minute. Neither moves; it’s almost like they don’t dare to breathe.

“David,” she says, her voice soft with wonder. A small smile.

And then the toddlers in their stroller squeal, “Dada!” Callum shrieks and kicks his legs, and Lily starts crying. Both David and Callie blink, as if coming out of a trance. Their children’s squeals are all it takes to get the potential lovebirds to start pecking at each other.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Callie snaps, reaching down to shush Lily. She bounces her daughter on her hip while glaring at David. “Don’t you have to work? Isn’t that what you
always
have to do?”

I sidle away from them and next to Flint. “This was a good idea, right?” I mutter out of the side of my mouth.

“Last I checked, it was your boyfriend’s idea, not mine,” Flint answers, sounding gruff. That stuns me for a minute; he thinks Thomas is my
boyfriend
? I mean if I had a penis, he might be right on the money. Still, not the time to think of it. I might have to step in and referee before one of the Winstons kills the other.

“At least I put a roof over my family’s head with all my terrible goddamn work,” David snaps, picking up his bag again. Uh oh. Ten four, he’s leaving the hotel. “I don’t sit around all day watching bad television, wishing my life was different.”

“Oh, because being neglected all day long with no one over the age of 2 to talk to and an endless load of housework is such a picnic!” Callie steps into David, and he looks a little startled. Well, to be fair to him, Callie angry is a pretty terrifying sight. I think her face is actually turning a shade of puce.

“I just want to be appreciated,” David says, straightening his shoulders and meeting Callie glare for glare.

“So do I!” she says. Okay, more like she shouts. We’re starting to attract attention from hotel guests and the concierge. I step in quickly, before we get asked to leave and have to dump a squalling David and Callie at the Motel 6.

“I have an idea.” I hand them a key card, which David takes. He stares like he doesn’t know what it is. “What say Flint and I take the kids and leave the pair of you in the Mandarin Penthouse? They have a spa hot tub, champagne, and soundproof walls in case you want to continue this conversation in private.”

“Champagne?” Callie says, looking at David with amazement.

“Soundproof walls?” he asks, incredulous. Then, together, they say,

“You’ll take the kids?”

I get the stroller away from Callie, and Flint and I slowly make our way to the hotel doors. Lily and Callum don’t mind being away from Mom and Dad, now that they have Uncle Flinty with them. I pause at the doors to look back, make sure Callie and David haven’t started throttling each other in five star splendor. But they talk for a minute, then head toward the elevators, a bellhop taking David’s luggage. I heave a sigh of relief. Fantastic. That’ll at least give them a chance to talk.

“What do we do now?” Flint asks when we’re outside. He picks up a fussing Callum, who gleefully tugs on his uncle’s hair. “You know the area better than I do. Is there a ball pit we can throw these tikes into?”

“Tikes?” I say, laughing. Flint puts Callum back in his stroller, and I lead them toward the parking lot. “Well, if you’re in the mood for some fresh seaside air, I know a good spot.”

“Let me think,” Flint says, helping me load the fussing kids into their car seats. “Do I want to enjoy the great outdoors, or do I want to be stuck inland breathing in Los Angeles’s finest exhaust fumes?” He weighs his hands in the air, like it’s a tough decision. “Hmm. How the hell do I pick?”

“Maybe you get in the car and stop mouthing off like a smartass,” I tease. Then I look back at the kids in mock panic. “Oh no. I meant smart-butt!”

“Auntie Laurel’s a potty mouth,” Flint tells the kids as he slides into the car. “That’s what we like about her.”

My heart beats quickly at his words while I struggle with my seat belt. What we like. What
we
like, not what
I
like. There’s a difference, Laurel. Learn it and fast.

I drive us out of the smoggier, traffic-clogged parts of the city, until we hit the glorious Pacific Coast Highway. We drive along, marveling at the nearby sand and the sparkling blue waves. Flint rolls down the window and lets his hand trail in the breeze. For the first time since coming to the city, he looks at home, an easy smile on his face.

“You might be part golden retriever,” I say, grinning as I think of Flint running around in a collar. That is, not a fun kind of kinky collar. More like a dog collar, like…I’ll shut up now, brain. Thanks.

We turn up the ramp to get to the pier, which welcomes us with a bright, flashing sign. Once parked, we rumble down the boardwalk, lifting Lily and Callum up to see the sights. Look, there’s a man selling pink and blue cotton candy! See, there’s people riding on a giant Ferris wheel! Look, over there, that’s a couple of drunk guys arguing about who gets the best fishing spot and hitting each other with empty clam shells!

We have to leave once the men start throwing punches. Some things little kids shouldn’t see.

“This was a good idea,” Flint says, as we do our best to help Callum and Lily eat strawberry ice cream. Callum seems like he prefers dunking his face into the cup and coming up with a pink smeared nose. He chortles, then puts a sticky hand in Lily’s hair. I laugh as I wipe their faces with a wet wipe from their diaper bag.

“I always thought the pier was the nicest place for a family gathering,” I tell Flint, then instantly wish I’d shut up. Flint clears his throat and looks down at the ice cream, carefully spooning some for the kids. Right. Not family. Not even close. We’ve known each other biblically, yes, but not the same thing.

“Was that a carousel back there?” Flint asks, looking at the pink and blue domed building near the front of the park.

“It’s from the 1920s. I love it,” I say, grinning. Who doesn’t love a good carousel? Answer: people with no soul.

“Then I think we should take these two rascals for a ride,” Flint says, hoisting Lily onto his shoulder while she shrieks with glee. Seeing him so relaxed with the little girl, my heart does a traitorous squeeze. Maybe he’ll have kids with Charlotte. Adorable little munchkins with Flint’s gorgeous hair and eyes and Charlotte’s beautiful face. They’d be perfect.

We roll the kids to the carousel and buy tickets. I sit with Lily in the carriage pulled by a wooden swan, and Flint sits on a magnificent white horse, holding Callum in front of him. As we ride in slow circles, we chat.

“This your favorite place in LA?” he asks me, going up and down in the air on his trusty mount. Heh. Mount.
Stop it, Laurel
.

“I think the Malibu coastline is what really gets me,” I tell him, picturing the crashing white foamed waves against the beautiful beaches and rocky terrain. I’m a nature girl myself, in a way. I just prefer the ocean. “But I love this place.”

“Ever come here with that guy, what’s his name? Thomas?” Flint asks casually. My stomach sinks. He sounds fine with the idea of me dating someone new. Well, why shouldn’t he be fine? Besides, I want it to look like I’ve moved on as well. That would be for the best. Both of us healthily moving forward. Going our separate ways. Separately.

“Oh, all the time,” I say lightly. I mean, Thomas and I do come here. It’s a good way to get some fresh seafood and scope out the hot guys with their shirts off. But Flint doesn’t need to know that.

Once the ride is over, we put the kids back in their stroller. Apparently the overstimulation is catching up: Callum yawns, and Lily rubs a chubby fist in her eye. We amble over to a set of arcade games on the other side of the building. One of them is a figure of a man with a genie turban, and a sign saying LEARN YOUR FUTURE: $1

“My future’s not worth that much,” I laugh as I put in the change and watch the machine come to life, colored lightbulbs turning on and off rapidly. Flint leans against the machine, rolling the stroller back and forth. The kids are fast asleep now, drooling adorably.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he tells me. “You’ve got everything you want, don’t you?” He clears his throat. “Like yesterday, with that guy at the restaurant. You seem happy, like you’re in a good place right now. Like you have everything you wanted.”

I nearly scream ‘I don’t have you, you beast!’ before ripping his shirt open and terrifying the old women and pigeons. But we’re not going there. I saw the photo of Charlotte; I know what’s going on. If I brought the ‘are you back together?’ question up at this point, it’d be both pathetic and uncomfortable. I don’t want Flint to see how torn up I still am when he’s clearly moved on, so I am not going to say a damn thing.

“I don’t know,” I say. He studies me, then looks away.

“You don’t? You mean you’re not as happy as you could be?” It’s my imagination that he sounds hopeful. Right?

“I do have everything, mostly,” I say, feeling defensive. And that’s not a complete lie. “My career’s going in the direction I always dreamed. I love it.”

“Your career. Right. It makes you happy.” It’s not a question, the flat way he says it. Flint watches me as I wait for the genie’s fortune. “Everything out here makes you happy. Career wise, other things wise.”

“I guess. I mean, LA used to be a place where dreams happened to everyone else,” I say with a shrug. “Now, I’m finally becoming everyone else.” That didn’t sound as special as I wanted it to.

“That’s good,” Flint says, sounding distracted. “I’m happy for you.”

Look at us two. A bunch of happy, happy people. So happy. I force a smile and try not to grind my teeth.

The fortune finally pops out of a slot at the bottom of the machine. I pick it up and read it: YOUR AMBITIONS WILL ALL BE FULFILLED

“See? I’m on my way,” I tell Flint, grinning again to mask my unease. Ambitions fulfilled, but not desires. That’s a real shame.

31

“Can you see your mommy and daddy?” I coo to the twins, kneeling down beside them in their stroller. They wave and giggle as their parents step into view from the elevators. Callie and David are both grinning happily, walking hand in hand and not throttling each other. That’s a good sign if I ever saw one. “Did you two lovebirds have a good day? Or a
very
good day?” I ask, nudging Callie in the arm.

“Don’t answer that. I’m right here,” Flint says grimly, shaking his head. “There are some things brothers don’t need to know.”

“It was a good afternoon,” Callie says, looking at David with a warm, contented smile. “I think we’ve just been missing each other.”

“What I like about this woman,” David says, kissing Callie’s hand. “She makes up as good as she fights.” Then he winks at her.

“Please no,” Flint says, closing his eyes in pain.

“One of these days, buddy, you’re going to know what it’s like to really screw something up, and be so relieved when it comes back together,” Callie says, slapping her brother on the arm. My stomach jolts at that. Oh, I’m pretty sure he’s already got that figured out, what with Charlotte and the house he built for her. Nothing says ‘let’s get back together’ like ‘I worked thirteen hour days to build you a fairy tale chateau in the woods. Come, enjoy my mountainside hearth. I have made you elk stew and cheesecake.’

Okay, some of my own fantasies are crossing over here.

“You two are looking okay,” I whisper to Callie as David picks Callum up and bounces him on his hip. Callie beams at me. She looks radiant.

“We got a massage. And things. And then we talked. Honestly, Laurel, I think we were just taking each other for granted,” she says. “Lesson learned: don’t do that shit.”

“Are you going to go to counseling? Learn how to reconnect more often?” I ask. Man, learn to reconnect. I think Jessa is starting to rub off on me.

“Oh hell no,” Callie says. “But when it gets too hairy, we’ll know to drop the kids off with my brother for a night and go have hot sex in a hotel.” She sighs. “David is much more limber than I remember.”

Okay, we’re entering the land of too much information. Looks like Flint’s getting a similar earful from David, because he’s saying things like, “Yes, yes, I totally abstractly understand. I have to leave. I have an appointment. An appointment to do something.”

“And we’ve got to get you back on schedule,” I tell him, desperately grabbing my purse. But before I can escape, Callie grabs me, loops her arm through mine, and walks me toward the elevators. “What’s up?” I ask, surprised. Are we going upstairs? Did she not get enough afternoon delight? I’m a pretty liberal minded person and all, but—

“Listen,” Callie whispers. “Whatever went wrong between the two of you, you should try clearing the air.”