The Ground Rules: Undone (29 page)

As soon as Gwen sees me, she throws her arms around me. The platter of goat cheese covered crostini I’m holding makes an actual hug impossible. “How are you, sweetie?”

I haven’t seen Gwen in a few days. She and Greg have been at their beach property, their house sitting empty. Thankfully, we are their official house-sitters and that gives us privileges to the pool. Every time we drive in her neighborhood, past the brick house with the oval window and the red door, my heart skips a beat.

My house
.

It could have been my house. But I’m glad it isn’t.

She walks over to the cooler, wearing a stylish gold accented tunic and matching flip-flops. “Can I get you something? I have pomtini coolers and margarita mix.”

I smile. I can drink. I can get drunk if I want. “I’ll take a pomtini cooler please.”

“Atta girl,” she says as she pops the cap off with a silver bottle opener.

It’s nice and cold and tastes
so
good.

Greg and Gabe chat by the barbecue. They get along relatively well, but they are so different. Greg is as straight as they come, and Gabe is a free-spirit. Greg would never understand what Gabe and I were involved in. I’ve sworn Gwen to secrecy. The only thing Gabe and Greg have in common is a love of sports and beer. Although Gabe likes your classic American beers like Budweiser, Coors Light and Rolling Rock, and Greg seems to favor foreign beers like Heineken, Stella Artois, Alexander Keith’s and Corona with lime… like a certain person I know, who shall remain nameless, who I shall stop thinking about.

I shake my head. Maybe Gabe is right. Maybe I need to put some distance between us. But I have a bad feeling that even if we were miles apart, on different continents even, oceans dividing us, we’d still think about each other every day. I blow out a breath at the thought. I wish I had never met him. I wish I could just forget him.

Gwen cheers, giving me a squeeze. “It’s so nice to see you.”

We clink bottles. “You too.”

My eyes dart from her to my kids splashing in the pool. Claire wears her pink princess water wings. She can swim now, but I would never trust her in there without water wings. She always looks like she’s struggling when she swims, but I suppose that’s the way all kids are when they first learn.

“I can’t believe school starts this week,’ she says. “I’m not sure I’m looking forward to it.”

“I am. I need the distraction. But it is a little earlier than usual this year.”

She studies me for a moment. “Yes, how have you been? Are you well enough to go back?”

I smile at her. “I’m good.” And this time, I don’t lie. I’m actually pretty good, all things considered.

We have a great afternoon, splashing around in the pool, chatting, laughing and enjoying Greg’s gourmet burgers and Gwen’s macaroni salad — one of the few things she can make.

We chat about Gabe’s work, the new school year, summer escapades, the girls’ new obsession with creating pictures with tiny glittery foam squares and making bracelets with tiny colorful elastics. Gabe tells them all about the little squares stuck to the floor and the tiny elastics found in the strangest of places, tucked in all corners of the house.

“I should probably vacuum more often,” I joke.

And all the while, I wonder what Weston is doing. Is he with his children? With Bridget? Could they have possibly gotten back together, or is he still waiting for me? I hope for all our sakes, that he’s sitting beside her today at some fancy country club luncheon. I can almost see them…

She’s dressed in a smart cream chic two-piece. She presses the folds out of her skirt, and adjusts her little stylish hat. He’s dressed in a sleek suit, tells his kids to use their linen napkins, and makes idle chit-chat with old money.

Yes, I want everything to be as it was before we all fucked things up royally.

The girls are so excited this morning I can hardly get a spoonful of food in them. The first day of school is always like this. I’ve dressed them in matching black shorts and frilly tops and matching flowered headbands. Claire’s is pink and Chloe’s is purple. Chloe was none too pleased with me and I begged her to cooperate, just this once. I’ve worn a soft coral skirt, sheer white blouse, camisole with pink colored lace detailing, and sensible pink ballet flats.

Our home life might not be perfect but at least, we look good. I’m so glad to be going back to work. I definitely need the distraction. With the separation, the miscarriage and this on-going drama with Weston, I’m going absolutely bonkers. And work always grounds me. That’s exactly what I need right now — to be grounded. Because I feel like I’m flying in all directions, caught up in a windstorm.

My school kids are adorable, as always. I take in the details of them, focusing on remembering names, twenty-one little humans thrown at you all at once. I had the list but I haven’t perused it. I’ve been so naughty.

I can tell straight away which ones will be the leaders and the Chatty-Cathies, and which ones will be the introverts; the quiet ones in the corner, faces buried in books. I’m always drawn to those quiet kids. They remind me of myself. And there’s always the ‘troublemaker’ — it never fails. This year, it’s a red curly haired, freckled boy by the name of Sebastian, and he’s a handful. He manages to break two toys, completely messes up the counting station, and makes three classmates cry…all on the first day!

I suck in a deep breath of relief as I tidy my classroom after the kids have all left. If I can survive the first day, the rest of the year should be fine. I smile at the memory of Sebastian. He’s going to make me earn my paycheck this year. That’s for sure.

The next few weeks get a bit easier. We spend a lot of time as a family, going to the park, Gwen’s pool, the library, and the city. We play board games and watch family movies at night. And after the girls go to bed, we watch episode after episode of
The Sopranos
, cuddled up under the old fleece throw. It’s just like the old days, but not quite. These days, Gabe doesn’t stroke the inside of my thigh and turn off the TV for a quickie. With the exception of the lack of sex, life is pretty much just as it was before. Except Gabe is more attentive now. He treats me like a princess.

Gabe and I are still not officially back together. He stills sleeps on the sofa downstairs. We tell the girls it’s because he snores too loudly, which is true. But in fact, I usually sleep like a log, and am not bothered by the snoring. I’ve asked him if he’s okay on the sofa, and he tells me he is.

We talk about his work, about the opportunity in Phoenix which is still on the table. We talk about the logistics of moving. I’d have to leave my work, and we’d have to leave our families and our friends. But we’re not too close with our families, especially mine. And although Gabe has a lot of buddies, I only have the one friend. Gabe is so outgoing, I’m sure it wouldn’t take him too long to find himself some new friends.

Truth be told, I’m still not too keen on the idea. I don’t like change. Gabe seems to be more serious about it and something tells me it’s not just about the opportunity, about a change of pace. It’s also about Weston.

As long as we’re close to him, as long as he calls and pursues me, I’ll always be a risk of falling into his arms again. Gabe is unaware of many things; the house Weston bought for me, the two encounters we’ve had in the last few months, but he’s not an idiot. He knows Weston is still around, still longs to see me, to be part of my life.

He knows Weston is not letting go.

Gabe looks gorgeous in dark wash jeans and a plain white tee — I can’t help but ogle. He’s fiddling with the DVD remote, setting up an episode of
The Sopranos
. I’m wrapped up in the cozy fleece throw. I doubt we’ll be sharing it tonight, like we used to. He shoots me a smile and I smile back shyly. It’s like I’m sitting next to a beautiful stranger.

Life with Gabe back at the house has been strange. It’s all nice and proper — ‘how are you?’ and ‘I’m fine, and you?’. It’s weird as hell. We’ve lost that playfulness, that little spark that made us…us.

But on the upside, he’s been more helpful than ever with the girls and the chores.

I want to know what’s going on inside his mind. Why is he here? Has he forgiven me? Is there still a chance for us?

And I want him. I want to cuddle, to laugh, to play with him.

“Do you remember what episode we were on?” he asks, not quite looking at me. He hasn’t looked at me much lately, and it’s absolutely killing me. It’s almost like he’s afraid to, afraid to love me again.

“Twelve, I think,” I say, and I wonder if he’ll sit next to me.

He locates the episode menu and sits back on the recliner. My heart sinks. Gabe never sits on the recliner if I’m with him, but lately, that’s what he’s been doing. Things really have changed.

“Did you kiss the girls goodnight?”

He turns to look at me with a smile. “Of course.” His face stretches into a grin. “Apparently, Chloe wants a pool.”

I laugh a little. “Yes, she’s been talking my ear off about it. But to be fair, it is pretty damn hot these days.”

He smiles. “Well, you never know, this Phoenix thing…”

I perk up. “Oh, is that still on the table?” If he’s talking about us and Phoenix, maybe there’s still a chance.

He nods. “Big time. Williams wants me to give him an answer in the next few weeks.”

My heart skips a beat at the thought of all of us packing up and moving way, saying goodbye to all our friends, to everything we know. “Do you think this is something we should seriously consider?”

He swallows hard and there’s a certain intensity about him I don’t see too often. “Yes, we should seriously consider it, Ella.”

“You’re ready to leave your job, all your friends, your family?”

“We can make a new life, Ella. It’ll be hard, but we can do it.”

My spirits lift. There is still a ‘we’. He hasn’t turned his back on us, despite all I’ve put him through. I know he loves me still.

He leans in on his elbows and his eyes are dark and serious when he tells me, “You need to get away from him.”

My stomach seems to tighten at his words. He’s right. This would be for the best, for me, for us and for our family.

I don’t say a word and he smiles at me. “So, are we watching this show, or what?”