I was feeling warm and gushy again.
"That's a fantastic goal, Grady," I said quietly.
"Do you got kids?" Dylan asked.
"No, honey, I don't have any kids."
"That's good. When you marry Uncle Slim, you can be Mom to Rex and Joel," Grady offered and I blinked.
"Sorry, honey, who?"
"Rex and Joel, Uncle Slim's kids, our cousins," Grady told me, my body went completely still including my heart and lungs, the warm gushiness evaporated and Grady kept talking.
"Aunt Olivia used to be married to Uncle Slim and Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Jill, Uncle Fritz and Uncle Levi aren't her biggest fans. I'm really not allowed to say the word Mom calls her. Dad too. And Uncle Levi said if he saw her again, he'd break her neck."
I stared at him.
"She has a pinchy face," Ellie added to the conversation, making her own scrunchy face that stated clearly she felt the same about Aunt Olivia as everyone else did.
"She never brings snickerdoodles to the family reunions," Dylan put in then sucked back more milk before he musingly went on, "Or anything."
"She wouldn't think about snickerdoodles. She doesn't care about snickerdoodles. Mom says she only cares about looking good and that's why she's always gettin' her nails done,"
Grady authoritatively told Dylan.
"She has pretty nails," Ellie told me. "I like her nail polish even though it's almost always red. She should try pink."
Although I was nowhere near processing the information they'd provided me, Grady kept spouting it. "She brings Rex and Joel to the family reunion every year and she stays and Mom says she stays even though she's not family anymore just to show off her fancy outfits and be a wet blanket. I can't say why Uncle Levi said she does it because most of the words are bad."
Uncle Levi clearly had a mouth much like his brother.
And Brock Lucas had an ex-wife and two sons. A pinchy-faced ex-wife who had a perma-manicure and two sons.
This, I did not know. This, a thing you shared. This, I did not know what to do with.
To be fair, I had known Brock as Brock for three days.
Still.
"Can I be your flower girl when you marry Uncle Slim?" Ellie asked.
Again, my body, lungs and heart went completely still then the latter two started pumping and when they did this, they did it hard.
Damn! Now how did I answer that?
I decided on honesty.
"Right now we're just seeing each other, Ellie, but I'll keep a line open to you if it looks like it's getting serious," I promised and she giggled.
Then she placed her order. "Okay, but I want my dress to be pink."
"I'll keep that in mind," I told her and she grinned at me.
She had a milk mustache too.
I grinned back.
The door swung open and people flooded through starting with Laura and ending with Fern, Brock sandwiched in the middle. He came direct to me, eyes on my face and my eyes slid away. Fern went direct to the table to gather glasses. Laura started herding kids.
"All right, kiddos," Laura started, snatching a towel from a rack, "wipe off those milk mustaches and inspect Uncle Slim's living room for your stuff. We're packed up and in the car in five minutes. March!"
Grady grabbed the towel, swiped his face, tossed it vaguely in his mother's direction and raced out. Dylan followed suit. Ellie skipped to her mother like she had all the time in the world to tiptoe through the tulips, rubbed the towel across her face once mostly smearing milk and not lapping it up then she skipped out.
"So sorry about crashing your date, Tess," Laura said, pushing the towel back on the rack.
"We were just driving by, saw Slim's truck and bike and that's unusual so we took our shot.
We'll be out of your hair before you know it."
"Not a problem," I told her on a smile, feeling Brock leaning into the counter with a hip, the front of his body facing my side but I kept my eyes glued to his sister at the table.
Laura smiled back and stated, "I'll have to bring the kids to your bakery. They'll love it.
I've been in a couple times but never with the kids, just to pick things up. Ellie talks about your pink cupcakes all the time."
"Give me a warning call and I'll batten down the hatches," I quipped and her smile got bigger as Brock's body got closer and when I say this, I mean his arm circled my ribcage, he turned me so that now I was leaning one hip against the counter and the rest of me was pressed back against him.
Laura's eyes dropped to his arm, they warmed then she looked back at my face and was grinning like a madwoman again.
At this point, Fern dampened the mood by proclaiming, "Slim, I hope that doesn't happen often."
I turned my head to see her at the sink. She had rinsed the glasses and loaded a rickety dishwasher which might, though I wasn't certain, have been the first of its kind, and she was currently shutting its door.
"Mom, we'll talk about it later," Brock said in a warning tone.
She turned and tipped her head back to look at her son. "Does it happen often?"
"Did I say we'll talk about it later?" Brock asked.
"Simple question, Slim," she returned and he sighed.
"If you mean does he stop by? Not often. But he does it. If you mean does he ask for money? No. Not anymore," he answered.
"Not anymore?" Fern prompted and Brock sighed again.
"He saw my truck and bike just like you, Mom," he said quietly. "He's an old guy with not a lot of friends left that he hasn't fucked over. He comes by. We sit around, drink beer and watch a game. This does not happen often but it happens."
She stared at him. Then quietly back, she stated, "I remember a time when you wouldn't even look at him."
"Yeah, well, I've grown up. He's my father. I don't like that he's lonely. What can I say?"
Brock replied softly.
Fern studied her son. Then her eyes shifted to me. Then she seemed to realize this was not the time or place and that was when she sighed.
Then she said, "I'm sorry, Tess. You must think we're all nuts."
"My parents are divorced, Fern, and my Mom hated my Dad from when I was nine to the day he died and even then she announced she wanted to go to his funeral so she could spit on his grave. Luckily, the next day, she got the flu and was bedridden for a week or she might have done it," I told her, she stared at me, Brock's arm got tight around my ribs then I finished, "I guess what I'm saying is, I get it."
Her eyes warmed and her mouth got soft. Then she nodded.
Then she whispered, "Thanks, sweetheart."
"Mom! Dylan's pulling my jersey!" Grady shouted from the living room.
"Cue exit," Laura muttered and I looked at her. "See you later, Tess?"
"Yeah, Laura, nice to meet you."
"You too," she replied then rushed out.
Brock pushed me gently in front of him, slid out from behind me and went to his mother, bending low for her to kiss his cheek.
"Have fun, honey." I heard her whisper.
"Right," he murmured and she moved away from him and her eyes came to me.
"Have a nice night, Tess. Lovely to meet you."
"You too, Fern," I replied.
She made to move out; Brock caught my hand and followed her, pulling me behind him.
We hit the living room and got separated as the kids shouted good-byes to me, went into attack mode in order to give Brock's legs hugs (this, he allowed from his nephews but he swung his niece up in his arms, gave her a fierce hug while he kissed then blew into her neck through which she giggled with childish abandon and while observing this I fought a tidal wave of warm gushiness), a brief period of pandemonium ensued for what appeared to be no reason at all then I stood in the middle of Brock's shabby living room as he closed the door.
Then he locked the three locks (knob, deadbolt, chain) and turned to me.
"Your Mom wanted to spit on your Dad's grave?" he asked, eyebrows up.
"In the bitter divorce department, although your folks clearly have a frontrunner, my folks beat anyone by a mile."
He grinned at me.
I tipped my head to the side and asked, "So, Rex and Joel?"
His grin spread to a smile then he moved and before I knew it, in fact, even after it happened I wasn't sure how I got flat on my back on the couch with Brock on top of me. All I knew was that I was there.
"Rex and Joel," he stated, his eyes holding mine, his holding mirth, his hands moving on me in ways not conducive to relaxing or having a life sharing chat. "My boys. I was married to their mother for five of the most miserable years of my life. Then I was divorced from her for five of the second most miserable years of my life. Then, two years ago, she got remarried and now she's making her new husband's life miserable and, lucky for me, she's not able to multitask. Rex is ten, Joel is twelve. They're good kids, I get them every other weekend, two weeks in the summer and whenever Olivia's at the spa, which, considering her new victim is loaded, is often and this works for me because I think the world of my boys and clearly my genes are dominant because they aren't pains in the ass like their mother is."
"I'm reading from that you two did not have an amicable divorce and remain friends," I noted and the mirth in his eyes hit the room and also hit his body which shook over mine with suppressed laughter.
"Yeah, babe, sorry I didn't make that more clear."
"So being with her was the five most miserable years of your life?"
"Yeah, and she made being without her miserable too but being without her was not the miserable part."
"So why did you marry her?"
His head tipped slightly to the side and his face got slightly more serious.
Then he answered, "Because there was the Olivia I met, dated, fell in love with and asked to marry me. Then there was the Olivia who I went on my honeymoon with. Night and day.
Dark and light. Kid you not, sweetness, it was like she wasn't even the same woman. It was whacked."
I stared at him, shocked and intrigued by this story.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really," he answered.
"That's kind of..." I hesitated, "scary."
"You're tellin' me," he stated with feeling and I thought about Ada and Vic and how Ada showed Vic everything he wanted to see then the minute she got his ring on her finger, Ada showed him Ada and set about making him the Vic she wanted him to be.
"Why do women do that?" I asked.
"Seein' as I have a dick, I was hopin' you'd answer that question," he replied.
"I've no idea," I told him and his mirth came back through his smile and his body shaking on mine.
Then he asked, "Are you gettin' it yet?"
"Getting what?" I asked back.
His roaming hands stopped and one came to frame the side of my face as he dipped his close.
Then, he whispered, "With Tessa O'Hara, what you see is what you get. No bullshit. No games. No masks. No lies. No nothin'. Just her, all her. I'm forty-five years old and, baby, I gotta tell you, I'm so sick of that shit you wouldn't believe it. Meeting a woman who doesn't have a clue how to even initiate a play was fucking refreshing."
Oh my.
At that point, for some totally unhinged reason, my mouth blurted, "Ellie has ordered a pink flower girl dress."
Brock stared at me. Then he burst out laughing and shoved his face in my neck to do it.
Then, while still doing it, he rolled to his back so I was on top and I lifted my head to watch as the laughter died to chuckles and his hands came up to gather my hair at the back of my head.
And when he controlled his hilarity, his warm, quicksilver eyes locked on mine and he said quietly, "There it is. My sweet Tess doesn't have a clue how to initiate a play. No bullshit. No games. No masks. No lies."