Spicy (Palate #1) (8 page)

My relaxing day off quickly turned into a whirlwind of activity.  Packing clothes, toys, snacks and various other essentials for a toddler without a list is not an easy task.  Doing it with said toddler and one’s mother underfoot is even more of a challenge.  Oh and then there was the fact
that they had a flight to catch
in three hours’ time! 
Trust my mother to make things as difficult of possible at every turn.

I frantically threw everything together, got Joel’s travel documents in order and gave my mo
m approximately a million instructions about his bedtime routine, favorite stuffed animal, meals and so on.  Even as I was telling her, I knew I was being silly.  She was my mother.  She’d raised me and, despite what she might say, I happened to think I’d turned out pretty decent. 

She had everything under control.

Joel would be just fine with my parents – in fact, he’d have a blast.  Deep down, I knew that.  As a matter of fact, maybe that was precisely why I was having so much anxiety about his leaving. 

By the time I got my mother and son along with all his bags out the door and into a taxi, I was
mentally and physically exhausted.  After waving goodbye and seeing them off, I trudged back upstairs to collapse on the couch. 

Immediately, I missed the commotion and upheaval of having a toddler running around screaming at the top of his lungs.  Yes, I’d wished for peace and quiet countless times – but now that I had it, I
no longer wanted it.

As I laid there on the couch feeling completely alone, I broke down.  I wasn’t exactly sure why I was crying.  All I knew was it had been a long, long time coming. 
All the stress, worry and heartache that had been bubbling beneath the surface for the past couple of years broke free as though a dam had burst.

I didn’t try to stop it.  Instead, I did an ugly cry. 
Silent sobs wracked my body and my nose got so stuffed up it was hard to breathe.  Tears poured out of me like my eyes had decided to masquerade as waterfalls.  It was disgusting and glorious.  Sometimes nothing feels quite as liberating as doing an ugly cry, you know? 

Of course, I couldn’t have my little meltdown in peace.  That would be asking too much. 

As though right on cue, the buzzer rang.  I choked back my tears and looked at the clock that hung above the couch in alarm.  My mother and Joel were supposed to be at the airport by now.  If they’d had to turn around because I’d forgotten to pack something important, I wasn’t sure they’d have time to get back to the airport and through security before their flight left. 

There wasn’t time to pick up the phone – or to make myself look decent.  Instead,
I wiped my red, tear-streaked face with the sleeve of my ratty sweatshirt and frantically ran downstairs.  But it wasn’t my mother and son who were standing at the door.

It was Gavin Rothe. 

Relief and horror washed over me at the same time:  there was no travel-related fiasco to deal with, but I looked positively hideous.  I hadn’t even had time to get dressed.  And now Gavin was seeing me in all my repulsive, ugly cry glory.

He looked every bit as surprised as I felt.

“Are you…are you okay?” he stuttered, wide-eyed.  Had I not been so embarrassed at having him see me in such a state, I would have laughed.  His discomfort was obvious and I could tell he didn’t quite know how to react.  What a typical man, squeamish about dealing with an emotional woman.  He looked almost fearful, like I might spontaneously combust or something.

“I’m fine,” I replied, sticking my
reddened nose in the air.  Doing that served two purposes:  it made me look confident and it kept my nose from running…kind of.  “I need a tissue,” I announced and then abruptly retreated upstairs.

Gavin followed me.

“You’re crying,” he pointed out, standing awkwardly in my entryway as I blew my nose into a wad of paper towels I’d grabbed from the small adjoining kitchen.  He looked like he couldn’t quite decide if he should come in or give me my space.

“So?”

“So
why
are you crying?”

In all honesty, the answer was probably a complex one.  But we didn’t need to get into all that.  I
nstead, I gave him the simple, straightforward explanation. 

“My mother took Joel back to Vermont for a visit and I miss him.  I was going to take him to the park this afternoon and now I can’t.”  My lower lip was t
rembling by the time I finished talking.

I’d expected Gavin to scoff, roll his eyes and say “is that all?” like I was an idiot.  But he did none of those things.  Instead, he took a tentative step forward and put a hand on my shoulder.  Maybe that was a strange gesture, but as simple as it was, it showed that he cared.  Actually, it was kind of the perfect thing to do.

“What were you going to do at the park?” he asked.

“
There are ducks in the lake.  He likes to feed them.  Well, technically he likes to throw bread at them, but thankfully his aim leaves something to be desired.  The bread always lands at least three feet away from them.”

Gavin s
queezed my shoulder.  “Let’s go to the park and feed the ducks.”

I stared at him like he’d just sprouted horns.  “Why?”

“You can practice for when he comes back,” Gavin said like it was the most sensible thing in the world.  In a way, the subtle reminder that Joel would be back soon
did
make me feel better.  “And besides,” Gavin added, “it’s a beautiful, sunny day.  You should be outside enjoying your time off instead of crying in here all alone.”

“
Why are you even here?”

“Your car is fixed – the parts that were on order came in early.  I was going to take you down to the shop to pick it up but that can wait.  Let’s go to the park.”

“You’re really serious about that?”

“Of course I am.”

I noticed then that he was wearing a suit, a stark contrast to my tattered old college sweatshirt.  His attire probably meant he’d been planning to go into work.  “What about the restaurant?” I reminded him, thinking maybe he’d forgotten.

He shot me a grin.  “The nice thing about being my own boss is that I can take off whenever I want.  And
I’ve decided that I want to spend the day at the park with you.  You can’t tell me no.  Think of the ducks.”

I had to smile at that.  “Well, if it’s for the
ducks
…”  The thought of getting out of my apartment was appealing, and the idea of spending the day in the sunshine with Gavin was even more attractive.  “Give me a minute to change my clothes and brush my hair, okay?”

He shrugged.  “Alright, but you look fine the way you are.”

I burst out laughing.  Sure, you saw all kinds of interesting looking people out and about in the city but even so, the suggestion that I leave the house looking the way I did was absurd.  “Gavin,” I exclaimed with a snort, “I’m a mess!”

“You look good to me.”

*****

The park
wasn’t far from my place, so we walked.

When we got there, it
was full of joggers, bikers and young mothers pushing strollers.  It felt strange to be there without my son but the sun was warm and the birds were chirping.  With Gavin at my side, I started to enjoy myself in a way I hadn’t in a long, long time.

We’d stopped at a grocery store on the way so we could buy a loaf of bread.  Now, as Gavin leisurely strolled along the gravel path, he looked rather silly. 

There he was, happily swinging a bag of bread while dressed in a business suit.  Everyone around us wore shorts, capris or sundresses.  A few of the more daring women wore only bikinis (welcome to California indeed).  Even I was only wearing a fitted blue t-shirt and denim cut-offs.  It was a park, after all, not a place of business. 

And comically enough, Gavin looked like the only one who hadn’t gotten the memo.

As we approached the still blue lake, I grabbed his tie and used it almost like a leash.  I gently but insistently pulled him over to an empty park bench.  Then I looked at him and pointed to it.  “Sit.” 

“What am I, your dog?” he grumbled good-naturedly.   Even though he complained, he did as I said.  Once he was seated, I stood in front of him and purposefully undid his tie.  Then I opened the top of his dress shirt so he didn’t look quite so buttoned up. 

“There.”  I stood back and admired my handiwork.

He raised an eyebrow.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you not look like a crazy person who wears a suit to the park,” I informed him.  “You should be thanking me.”  Then as an afterthought I handed him his folded up tie, unsure of what to do with it.  “Here, put this in your pocket.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said dryly, giving me a little salute as he did so.  Then with a knowing smirk he looked at me suggestively.  In a deep voice, he teased, “Is there anything else you’d like me to take off?”

I knew he was just trying to get me flustered, but hell, he’d seen me in the midst of an ugly cry (and he hadn’t run away).  After that, it was going to take a little more effort on his part to get me to blush.  I crossed my arms and looked him up and down before answering.  “Yes.”

Gavin’s eyebrow shot up.  Clearly he hadn’t expected that answer.  “Oh?”

“Lose the jacket,” I ordered.  “You must be burning up in it.”  Then I gave him a playful grin.  “What were you expecting me to say?” I inquired innocently.

Rolling his eyes, Gavin made a face at me.  
“Ah yes, I love it when you get that bossy tone….”   He slid his jacket off and rolled his shirt sleeves up.  “Hmm, that’s actually much better.  You do know I’m only overdressed because I had no idea I’d be spending the day at a park, yes?”

“
Yep, but I still like to give you a hard time.”

“You can say that again.”

I swallowed hard.  Somehow our playful banter had taken on a blatantly sexual undertone…or was I imagining it?  I looked at Gavin.  He pulled me down on the bench beside him.  “Here,” he said, thrusting the bag of bread into my hand.  “Show me how the pros do it.”

Maybe I’d imagined it.

“Are you glad you moved to Los Angeles?” Gavin asked as I opened the package.

“Yes.  I think so.  I hope so.”  I sighed.  “The thing about being solely responsible for another person’s life is
that you constantly second guess your decisions.  At least I do.  I feel guilty sometimes for moving so far away from my parents.” 

“You don’t talk about them much.”

“We’ve never exactly gotten along…especially not after I got pregnant.”

Gavin reached into the bag I held and pulled out a
slice of bread.  Breaking it in half, he examined it thoughtfully before tossing it out to the ducks.  “Why is that?  Did they not approve of Joel’s father?”

“They didn’t know who he was.  They still don’
t.”  I took a deep breath and then confessed, “I refused to tell them.  I think they jumped to the conclusion that I don’t even know.  Do you have any idea what it’s like for your parents to assume you’re a slut?  Well I mean no, of course not.  Guys don’t have that problem, do they?  It’s embarrassing.  But it’s for the best.”

“But you
do
know, don’t you?”  It wasn’t a question so much as an observation.

I nodded.  “
Yes.  No good would come of telling them.  They wouldn’t approve if they did know, so as bad as it is, I’d rather they just assume I’m a slut.  I haven’t told anyone who Joel’s father is, actually…not even my closest friends.”

“Who is he?”

  I hesitated.

“Come on,” Gavin
pressed.  “You’re a long way from home.  We’re all the way in Los Angeles.  I don’t even know anyone in Vermont.  You can tell me.”

“He was one of my college professors,” I blurted out. 

There, I’d said it.  And surprisingly, it felt liberating to say it aloud, like a weight had been lifted.  I hadn’t realized how heavily secrets could weigh on a person, and it was a secret I’d been keeping for a long, long time…or at least part of it.

“I see
.”  There was no judgment in Gavin’s voice and for that I was grateful. 

“
I was a twenty-five year old grad student,” I explained even though Gavin hadn’t asked.  “He was nearly twenty years my senior but that didn’t matter.  He was just so worldly and charming and different from the college guys I’d been dating.  He swept me off my feet for a while.”

“…A fairytale romance?” Gavin guessed.  Once again I couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.

“No, not at all,” I replied at once.  “I guess I got caught up in the idea of him.  The reality was far less glamorous.  But I was young and idealistic and didn’t have any idea who I was back then.  I suppose I still don’t.”

“
It was only a few years ago.  You talk as though it was a lifetime ago,” Gavin observed.

“In a way it was.”

“Do you really not know who you are?” he asked as though that was hard to believe.