The Love Series Complete Box Set (130 page)

“Um . . . well, no. . . . not exactly.” Lucy’s scrunched up and confused face clearly tells me that’s the wrong answer. “Well, I mean . . . yeah, but not like you think . . .” Okay so trying to clarify isn’t helping either.

Just as quickly as she hung me out to dry, Melanie swoops in for the save. Totally ignoring my comments of stupidity, she directs her words at her mom. “See? I told you, Mom. You still got it.”

Now it’s Lucy’s turn to feel embarrassed. “Okay, I’m going to head out with Maddy and Reid. We’ll meet you at home later.” Melanie leans in to kiss Lucy’s cheek. As she hugs her mom, she winks at me almost as if she’s giving me the go-ahead. Sneaky kid. I like her already.

Already? Listen to me. Like there’s going to be more.

As Melanie walks away, Lucy says, “Sorry about that. Sometimes her brain to mouth filter is completely turned off.”

“It’s okay. She was right, you know.” I lean in closer to whisper my next words. “I was checking you out.”

Her cheeks turn bright red, making her blue eyes pop even more. It takes mere seconds for both of us to get lost in a loud laugh, catching the attention of the few people left in the small room.

The last guests leave and Katie walks over to Lucy and me. Lucy stands and hugs Katie. “If you ever need anything, don’t you dare hesitate to call me?” She runs her hands up and down Katie’s arms, consoling and comforting. Something in me I thought was long gone, cracks open. Lucy’s only known Katie for two days at the most, yet here she is, offering her help in any way she can.

In the few hours I’ve known her, Lucy has proven to be a kind soul—and a beautiful one at that.

“I guess I should be going.” Lucy stands and pulls her jacket on. “Evan,” she offers me her hand, “it was really nice to meet you.” I pull her hand up to my lips and pop a gentle kiss there, causing the blush that was just in her cheeks a moment ago to return.

As Katie steps away, leaving us alone, the awkwardness descends upon us. “So . . .” we both say at the same before sharing another laugh.

“Goodnight, Evan. Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I can’t deny that I’m sad to see her go. There’s something about her that makes me want to get to know her more. But, the part of me that shut down long ago, the part that has kept me from ever being able to commit to anyone, screams loudly for me to just walk away and let Lucy live her own life, free of my problems.

Chapter Eight

January 27, 2013

“Well, now what?” I sigh and say those words to myself as I turn into my driveway. There’s no one else to speak them to anyway. It’s just me now.

It doesn’t have to be.
A small voice whispers in the back of my mind.

Sure, it’s been just me for the last eighteen years, but this feels different, somehow. Raising Melanie on my own was no easy feat and I relied on Ray and Linda a lot initially. But, as I knew they would, our lives took on very different paths.

Work consumed Ray’s. He stayed in touch in those first few years, but after he got married, his family came first. I can’t hold it against him; that’s how it’s supposed to be. We stay in touch, but it’s not the same.

A broken marriage nearly destroyed Linda’s. She got married about two years after Jimmy died, but her husband ended up being an “unfaithful pig”—those are her words, not mine. Personally, I think her words are too kind.

And a calendar full of ballet concerts and school plays filled mine. Being a mom was all I knew how to be, so I embraced it whole-heartedly. PTA volunteer, class mom, soccer coach—I never wanted Melanie to feel like she was missing out because she only had me. Some may say that I overcompensated; I just wanted to make sure my baby girl knew she was loved.

We always came together on important occasions—birthdays, holidays, high school graduation, but during the minutiae of my day-to-day life, I was always alone. Watching Melanie grow from a chatty and playful toddler, into a beautiful and poised young woman has been the most rewarding experience of my life.

If I’m being honest, it’s been the only experience of my life.

Sure. I thought about dating again, and the possibility of getting married flitted through my consciousness, however fleetingly. But at the end of the day, no one measured up to my Jimmy. Maybe I never let them, never gave them enough of a chance. That’s what Linda would say, after all.

“He’s got a good job and a kind heart. What could have possibly gone wrong?” Linda would ask after yet another attempt at setting me up with someone she kinda-sorta knew somehow through her grapevine of friends.

“Nothing went wrong,” I would defend lamely.

“Then what is it, Luce?” By the time the fifth date failed, I could tell her patience was wearing thin.

“He wasn’t Jimmy, Lin. None of them are. None of them will be. I’m happy enough. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

Her response on that particular occasion stung more than a little, and hit all too close to home. “Enough for what?”

I didn’t bother answering her; there was no point. I was happy enough to be Melanie’s mom, but that’s all I knew how to be.

There was Evan, but it’s foolish of me to hold on to a few flirtations that happened over a month ago. That’s real sad—in the last eighteen years, the only moments that stand out in my dating life are those from a casual conversation at a funeral.

Pathetic, Lucy.

My non-existent love life aside, there were moments of brightness. When Melanie met Maddy back in middle school, I felt, in some strange way, like she was meant to come into our lives. I never wanted Maddy to have to deal with loss, but maybe in some strange way, pain gravitates toward pain. Helping Maddy heal from the death of her parents and watching her grow up, helped heal me in ways I never knew needed healing. When she came to live with us last year, our family felt more complete, somehow.

I loved watching Melanie and Maddy grow up, become sisters. I loved being able to mother another child, to nurture someone else even though she wasn’t my own blood.

When they left for college last fall, it was not an easy adjustment. But Linda, my rock and a constant source of support in my life, was right there to help me. Her divorce left her disillusioned with men, so thankfully, after years of trying, she finally stopped setting me up with friends of friends.

We’d spend our weekends shopping or redecorating room after room in one another’s house. We’d go to the spa or the salon, learning to pamper ourselves rather than waiting around for someone else to do it for us.

Just as the girls’ first semester was coming to a close, and I was getting excited to have them home for a solid month, my world spun upside down once again. But, loss is a funny thing. You get accustomed to it. It lives with you, breathes your air, and thrums in your veins. It never dissipates completely, just fades into the twilight, hanging in the background, waiting for the chance to present itself again.

Maddy’s car accident brought me right back to the center of darkness; it brought the ever-present force of loss back into the foreground. When she recovered, I made a simple, but huge, resolution to myself.

I was going to stop existing and start living.

I just didn’t know how.

So I did what I knew how to do best. I threw myself into Melanie and Maddy’s lives. I supported them through their tragedies in order to avoid healing my own. I talked Melanie down from her ledge of self-doubt and helped Maddy see the error of her ways.

The irony of it all is I helped all of the people I love the most find their own pieces of happiness, yet in the process, neglected to discover my own.

So here I am, lost in thought in the driveway of my now empty home.

I can’t help but get a little misty-eyed at that idea. I’m really and truly alone. Feeling my throat constrict with those heavy emotions, I huff out a deep breath.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

That’s been my mantra since I dropped Melanie back off at school and then helped Maddy, move out of the house. That’s a lot of emotions to deal with in a short span of time, but I’m trying my best to deal with them.

I grab my purse and the bag of Chinese take-out from the passenger seat. As I unlock the door and step over the threshold, the only thing that greets me is the quiet darkness of my empty house.

I know the nest has technically been empty since Melanie went to school last September, but it’s different now. It feels more final somehow. During her first semester, she came home a lot and I went to visit her a handful of times, so it didn’t feel like we were really apart. Her being away was still so new I don’t think I let myself wrap my head around it, at first. I couldn’t be more proud of her, but there’s a new sense of being really alone now that’s hanging over me. My baby girl is all grown up and on her own.

But, I’d be lying if I said that I’d ever be anything other than a mom. I could tell that there was something just
off
about Melanie as I was driving her back to school the other day. My “mom instincts” were on full alert, but my “girl senses” knew better than to push. Because she was in such a funk, leaving her at school on her own was somehow more gut wrenching this semester than it was last semester.

My hand hovers over the phone as my fingers itch to dial Melanie’s number. “No. It’s okay. She’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing that a good, long chat with her girlfriends won’t fix.” Talking myself out of making what seems to be an unnecessary phone call, I laugh at my ridiculousness.

I’m talking to myself. Maybe I should get a cat. Nah, I’d probably adopt more than one and eventually turn into the crazy cat lady. A dog might not be a bad idea, though.

Shaking away the ideas of a pet and me, I get out a plate for my shrimp dumplings. Setting myself up in front of the television, I turn on the news. After a few minutes of hearing about “this” shooting and “that” tragic accident, I turn it off and finish my meal in silence.

When I’m all done, I load my plate in the dishwasher and lean up against the counter. Scanning the empty room, I feel a pang of guilt for every time I ever wished for peace and quiet when Melanie was a child.

I would give anything for a little bit of noise right now.

The silence is deafening. The solitude is depressing.

A bath. I need a bath.

But even that doesn’t help. The bubbles are soothing and the aroma of jasmine permeating the room is calming, but there’s still the gnawing emptiness that I feel creeping in. I guess in the last few months I’ve been able to shake it off most of the time. My ability to shake away my loneliness is apparently a superpower that’s fading.

“At least I have work tomorrow.” Talking to my reflection as I comb through my wet and tangled hair, I sigh sadly. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help.

I’m probably just feeling down because Melanie isn’t here. It’s been virtually just the two of us forever and now the only person who I have ever loved more than life itself is no longer here with me every day.

Feeling more than a little sentimental, I cozy up in bed and dial Melanie’s number. I know I shouldn’t be bothering her. Hell, I only dropped her off two days ago, but I just need to hear her voice.

Who am I kidding? I just need to hear
a
voice.

It rings and rings, but she never picks up. Sadly, even hearing her voicemail greeting is enough to calm me a little. They might be fitful, but at least I’ll be able to get a few hours of sleep tonight.

At least, I hope so.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Linda’s sarcasm is the last thing I need right now, but apparently that’s what she’s dishing out at seven a.m. on this fine Monday morning.

Through my yawn, I tell her to “shut it” as I playfully swat her sweatshirt-covered arm. We walk together every morning. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I must have overdone it this weekend, that’s all.” We begin on our usual route of two miles around the neighborhood. It’s been a fairly mild winter. So even though upstate New York in January usually isn’t the most ideal locale for a Monday morning power-walk, it’s been nice enough to actually walk more days than not. The only time we miss our daily walk is when one of us is sick.