Where We Left Off

“So, how’s lover boy?”

Vickie swatted my shoulder with a bundle of daisies as she sidled past. I hunkered down on the stool and dedicated my attention to the bouquet in front of me, the first official one I was putting together for an actual, paying client. I’d rearranged it many times already, but was finally content with the current grouping.

“We’re not—” I stopped short, realizing Lucas was within earshot. “He’s not … It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please.” Vickie’s tone became hushed. “We’re both grown-ups here. You don’t travel all the way across the country with someone and not spend a little time in the sack. Am I right?” Like we were two boys in a locker room, Vickie jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow.

“In this case, you’re not right. We’re taking things slow.”

“You mean going in reverse.”

“I mean … it’s complicated.”

I’d revealed something incredibly telling with that statement, it seemed, because Vickie’s eyes rounded and her head bobbed in understanding. “He’s impotent!” she whisper-yelled.

“No!” It was my turn to smack her with a bunch of roses. “Oops! Sorry. Thorns.”

Vickie rubbed at her arm. “Whatever works for the two of you. I’m just happy that you’ve found some happiness. You and Corbin deserve it.”

I had found my happiness. Our happiness.

And my happiness happened to be walking right through the doors of the shop at that very moment.

“Sir.” Lucas tipped his head to Heath.

“Afternoon, Lucas. Mallory here?” And then he caught my eyes above the flowers that impeded my view. “Oh, hey.” With two palms flattened to the metal countertop, Heath leaned over and dropped his full lips to mine. “There you are.”

My body tingled, a bit from his gesture and a little from the fact that we had an audience.

“Here I am.” I smiled and scooted back from the table, then reached under it to grab my purse. I flung the bag over my shoulder. “It okay if I take my lunch now?” I looked at Vickie. “I’ll go wake Corbin.”

She halted me with her hand firmly placed on my shoulder. “Do not—on my watch—ever, ever wake a sleeping baby. You most certainly will not go near that break room. You will leave your little guy here and enjoy your lunch date.”

“That’s not necessary, Vickie.” I grimaced and felt thickness swell in my throat, guilty that I was always taking advantage of her good nature. She offered it so freely.

“I know it’s not necessary. Not another word. Off you go.”

I’d repay her somehow. For now, I just gave her a brief squeeze and followed Heath out the door. The afternoon sun burned intensely in the sky and I retrieved my sunglasses from my bag, lifting them to my face. I grabbed Heath’s hand. The way our fingers fit together felt like slipping into a favorite pair of blue jeans or cozy sweater.

“Sushi sound good?”

“Always.” We had found our preferred little spots around town and frequented them often. It was a three-block walk to Atomic Fish and we were promptly seated in the back of the restaurant, at our favorite table. I didn’t need to glance at the menu, and neither did Heath. We had our order readied for our waiter and once he left, Heath looked at me, a seriousness contained in his strong brow.

“Everything okay?”

He pursed his lips as though to speak, and then shook it off. “Yep.” Then he smiled, but only one-half of his mouth arched upward and it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I wasn’t convinced. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

It took half of our lunch for the discomfort to ease from our interactions. This was a first for us. From the first moment we saw one another, we’d reconnected in a way that was surreal. And maybe it was. Maybe this was as far as our fairytale would take us. At some point, we had to wise up and face reality.

It felt like my reality, though, to love Heath again.

As the waiter brought our check, I studied the man across from me. He was uncharacteristically silent. Where he’d usually have a quip or witty interjection, he held his tongue and ate without a word. I racked my brain and tried to call to memory anything I could have done or said to bring this about. What could have drawn in the rocky waves where we’d once had still and calm waters?

“You’re making me nervous, Heathcliff McBride.”

That got the faintest of smiles from his worried mouth. “Ah, my full name. I must be in big trouble.” It was the first joke—albeit a small one—and I latched onto it and sucked every bit of confidence I could from it.

“Huge trouble. I might have to punish you later.”

Not even a twitch of a smile.

“Okay, what’s up? This isn’t like you. You can tell me you’re fine until you’re blue in the face, but I’m calling your bluff.”

I thought his face was truly going to turn blue with the breath he pent up in his chest. He blew it out too forcefully. Dragged his hand through his cropped hair. Looked everywhere in the room but at my eyes, and I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him silly.

“Your dad sent me something.”

That was not what I expected. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you should see it.” The words were flat and monotone. Heath wasn’t allowing any room for interpretation here. “Can you come by tonight? Seven o’clock?”

“Sure let me call Sharon and Boone and see if they can watch Corbin—”

“Bring Corbin.” He brought his palms against the ledge of the table and backed his chair up. Looking down after he stood, he muttered, “It won’t take long.”

The one thing I’d anticipated about today—the delivery of my first bouquet—didn’t even register on my radar anymore. Lucas probably dropped it off and the recipient probably liked it, but I didn’t care.

All my available emotions were allotted to Heath and his cryptic words and our uncomfortable lunch. It was the stutter in our relationship, this awkward interaction of ours. I should’ve expected it sooner or later, but I assumed it wasn’t coming for us. We were easy together. So easy. I loved that the most.

Even when I’d said things were complicated, it was always the things surrounding us, never us. The emotions of divorce. The grief involved in death. Parenthood. Employment. The things that complicated what we had were common, normal, outside complications.

Today was not normal.

I had no idea how to prepare. Had there been an entire department store’s worth of clothing crammed into my closet, I still wouldn’t have been able to find something suitable to wear. What did one wear for a breakup? Did you dress in your finest in a last ditch attempt to flaunt what was being given up? Or did you wear your most comfortable clothes so you could make the seamless transition from being dumped to lounging on the couch with a half-eaten box of chocolates and a full tub of ice cream, no need for a wardrobe change.

I opted for something right in the middle. The peach silk tank hung low at my neckline and I knew Heath would like it because he loved my neck. Always talked about how it was the only thing he caught a glimpse of the day I fell off my bike and landed on the pavement. I had a nice neck, I supposed, with thin collarbones and enough cleavage that I felt womanly, but not so much that I needed a sports bra for daily activities. My favorite jeans were slung on my hips and I pushed my gray leather flip-flops onto my feet. My toes needed a pedicure, but I knew he wouldn’t notice.

At a quarter to seven, I stopped obsessing over my appearance, and instead obsessed over the very real possibility that I was minutes away from a breakup. As I guided my car out of the garage, I caught Corbin’s eyes in the mirror that hung against the backseat. He was so obliviously unaware. I envied that—how his little boy’s life was already stacked with so much pain yet unrealized, but he smiled through it all, the blissful naivety of a child.

“I understand,” I recited as the car coasted down the lane. “It’s okay, Heath, really. I figured this would be too much.”

My words couldn’t even convince myself. There’s no way he’d buy any of it.

Maybe anger would be a stronger reaction. But I just couldn’t muster that for him. Heath had the right to walk away from this. There was no obligation here. The memories we had could stay just that, memories. They didn’t need to morph into a future, as badly as I wanted it.

My eyes were wet with the emotion that contradicted my brave face when I pulled into his driveway. I took the keys from the ignition and listened as the engine hummed until there was no noise as all. I could see my heart pulsing under my skin and thought, for a moment, that the tank top wasn’t a good selection. I’d give away my nerves the instant he laid eyes on me.

I didn’t care. I wasn’t about hiding anymore, never really had been. I was allowed to feel scared about the possibility of tonight. Emotions were meant to be felt. That was exactly their purpose.

I wanted—more than I could express—for Heath to feel something, too. He had been a brick wall this afternoon, an impenetrable stone exterior. I planned to crack that.

After I scooped Corbin from the backseat, I walked up the steps to Heath’s second-story apartment. We’d never spent much time here since he had a roommate and I had a baby. My house was always our home base. The fact that he was about to break up with me on his turf intensified the ache in my gut even more.

With two knocks, I sucked in a breath and put on my big girl panties.

“Mallory.” Heath opened the door and then backed up quickly to allow me through, tripping over his feet like they’d suddenly grown two extra sizes. Instantly, out of habit and affection, Corbin reached for him. I let him. I could’ve been controlling and held my son to my chest, a vise grip of possession, but I allowed them their moment. Corbin deserved to have his own goodbye, too.

“I’m glad you could make it.” Though he said the words, nothing about his demeanor or tone showed any ounce of gladness. It was all rote and repetition. His gaze was sidelong, not meeting mine. “Want anything to drink?”

“You said this wouldn’t take long.” I tried so hard to hold the snarkiness from my tongue, but it wouldn’t obey.

“Right. I did.” Corbin’s hand repeatedly smacked Heath against his cheek, all in a playful manner, but I couldn’t help but laugh. With his free hand, Heath grabbed on to the little flailing arm and secured it to his side.

“So.” I looked around the room and pushed the hair from my face, letting out a breath. “What did Tommy send you?”

“You want to see it now? I was thinking we could wait a little bit.”

Waiting on heartbreak was the stuff of insanity. I didn’t want to drag the moment out any longer. I was not a glutton for punishment by any means. “Now would be good.”

“Um.” He swung around, eyes wild. Two huffs and an excessive amount of swallowing and he answered, “Okay, just give me a second. Is it okay if I hand you—?”

He started to push Corbin away from his body and I reached out to take him. “Give him here.”

Then Heath was gone.

“This is so weird,” I whispered against my son’s forehead. “Men can be so weird.”

Three minutes later and he was back, only to disappear again into an office just off the family room. Maybe he’d been drinking. That could explain this odd behavior. Or maybe he’d been drinking the whole time we’d been together, and only now, sobered up, did he realize the errors in his ways. In picking things right back up with me.

“Okay. All set.”

Heath brought with him a parchment paper package, one unmistakably holding a painting of my father’s under its protective cover. Propping it up against the wall, he stepped back like it was about to go off, some bomb under wraps. He brought his hand to his chin and tilted his head the way a dog does when you ask if it wants to go for a walk.

“Should I be doing something with this?”

“Open it.” Like he could nudge me with air alone, Heath bobbed his nose in the direction of the package. “I’m curious to see what it is.”

“You haven’t looked yet?” This was getting increasingly bizarre by the minute. I was definitely not ruling out alcohol. Heath was all jitters, springs bound in his muscles, ready to snap.

“I wanted to open it together.”

Breakups were never easy, but Heath had never been good at them, I supposed. The last time he broke up with me, he left town, never to be heard from again. At least this time we were both present. I guess I could thank him for that.

“So I just, what? Just rip it open?”

I looked over my shoulder at Heath, whose knuckles stroked against his scruffy jaw. “Yeah.” He broke from his daze. His eyes refocused as they met mine. “Just go for it. I’ve been waiting for this answer for weeks now.”

My head wobbled hesitantly. “Answer? There’s some kind of answer in here?”

“I asked him a question when we were in Kentucky. I’m assuming this is finally his answer to that.”

My forehead wrinkled, causing my eyes to narrow. I hooked a finger under the flap at the top of the package and balanced Corbin against my hip, over-exaggerating my stance to keep him securely there. “Do I get to know the question?”

“Depends on his answer.”

“Oh, Heath, you absolutely confound me.” Then, before going any further, I spun around on my heels to look him wholly in the face. “So this is not a breakup? You’re not breaking up with me?”

Every muscle in Heath’s body slumped, the air and strength sapped out of him. His head slunk forward and his gray eyes bulged. A tentative smile built on his lips, growing slowly like it was being pulled at the corners. “Are you serious?”

I was about to signal my answer with a nod when he propelled toward me. His arms were the pressure of a boa constrictor, bound all the way around, and it made me yelp in his embrace.

“Oh, sweet Mallory. You came here thinking I was going to break up with you tonight? How sad is that?”

“Super sad.” My words slurred against his chest and Corbin continued with the face-slapping thing now that Heath was again in arm’s reach. “Seriously, I was super sad over it.”

“You didn’t even seem sad. If anything, you seemed crazy pissed.”

“Well, you seemed nervous as hell! What was that about?”

“I am nervous as hell! I’ve been staring at that package for days now.”

That an inanimate object could derive so much emotion was impressive and a little intimidating. “So why didn’t you just open it?”

“I wanted you here.” Heath shrugged. “I want you here for everything.”

That was all I needed to hear.

“Well then, without further ado, let’s get to it, shall we?”

Like Christmas morning, I ripped into that package with gusto. The brown paper floated in strips to the floor. I shuffled back on my feet, my chest heavy, my hands sweaty.

I scrutinized Heath’s eyes more than the painting.

The artwork was like many of Tommy’s other pieces: colors spun together, brush lines crafting form from flowing and blended strokes.

“So … what is it?”

Heath’s lips lifted. “A yes.” His face lit up entirely, a one-eighty from this afternoon. This looked so much better on him. “It’s a definite yes.”