Happy Ever After
Page 74
He stopped, shook his head. “There, that’s what I come from, and don’t tell me you understand.”
“I’m not going to argue with you now, but I will say if you think I’d blame a boy and his grieving mother in any way for the situation you were caught in, you must think very little of me.”
His tone went as frosty as the air. “I told you, Parker, it’s not about you.”
“Of course it’s about me, you idiot.You idiot, I love you.”
She caught a glimpse of the utter stupefaction on his face before she stormed away.
She caught another glimpse of him during the reception, talking to the newlyweds, and again a bit later, seated at the bar with the FOG in some intense conversation.
She kept her eye on the Franks, prepared to move in if they headed in Malcolm’s direction. Maybe he thought it was none of her business, maybe he thought she didn’t understand, maybe he was just stupid. But she wouldn’t allow anything or anyone to cause trouble at one of her weddings.
She was almost disappointed when it didn’t happen.
“Did you and Mal have a fight?” Mac eased up beside her when the crowd began to thin.
“Why?”
Mac tapped her camera. “I know faces. I know you.”
“I wouldn’t say we had a fight. I’d say we appear to define relationship differently, except he doesn’t acknowledge we’re in a relationship.We’re in a situation.”
“Men can be dumbasses.”
“They really can.”
“Women should all move to Amazonia, or at least vacation there four times a year.”
“Amazonia?”
“It’s the girl world in my head, where I go when I’m annoyed with Carter, or just men in general.There are five shoe stores per capita, nothing has any calories, and all the books and movies end happy ever after.”
“I like Amazonia.When do we leave?”
Mac draped an arm around Parker’s shoulders. “Amazonia, my friend, is always there, inside every woman’s head. Just close your eyes, think: Manolo Blahnik. And you’re there. I’ve got to go get some more shots, then I’ll be right behind you.”
Amused, Parker let herself imagine a calm, soothing, shoeladened female world, but had to admit, she wouldn’t want to live there. An occasional short vacation? It sounded very good.
She watched as the bride and groom took the floor again for the last dance of the evening.
So in love, she thought. So in tune. So ready to start their life together, as partners, as lovers, as companions and mates.
On their way to their happy ever after.
And that, she admitted, was what she’d always wanted.
To make her mark, yes, to do good work, to be a good friend, a good sister, to build something and share something. And with all that, to love and be loved, to promise and accept the promise. To find someone and take hands with him in their own happy ever after.
She couldn’t try for less.
She didn’t see Malcolm again until she’d stepped outside to wave the newlyweds off.
He’d changed into his own clothes, she noted, and looked considerably calmer and more himself.
“Got a minute?” he asked her.
“Yes, a couple of them now.”
“I took a bad reaction out on you, something that’s getting to be a habit. I don’t like the habit.”
“All right.”
“I thought I’d moved on from having that kind of a reaction to Artie. Apparently not.” He dipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t like going back there, so I don’t. There’s no point. I understand you were trying to help.”
“But you don’t want any help.”
“I don’t want to need any. I think that’s a little different.That’s no excuse for lashing out at you.”
“I’m not asking for excuses, Malcolm. I don’t need excuses when I know the reason.”
“I guess I’m still working on the reason. So . . . I’m going to take off. Give us both a little time to smooth out.”
“While you’re smoothing, ask yourself this. Ask yourself if you actually believe I think less of a boy, one grieving for his father, for striking back, for looking for an escape from an abusive bully who held every control. Or if I think less of the man he made himself into because of it.When you’re sure of the answer, let me know.”
She opened the door. “Good night, Malcolm.”
“Parker? Whatever the answer, I still want you.”
“You know where to find me,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HE LIKED TO THINK HE’D SMOOTHED IT OUT. HE COULDN’T REMEMBER ever making that kind of a misstep—much less two in a row—with a woman before.
Then again, Parker was a first on pretty much every level.
He understood a couple of major screw-ups required a reach into the wallet for a token, a symbol—generally for something smelly or shiny. Even the girl who had everything or could easily get it for herself liked a basic I Was an Idiot gift.
He considered flowers, but her house was already loaded with them. Flowers probably hit the low end of the idiot scale anyway.
He mulled the idea of jewelry, but it seemed over the top.
Then he thought of her weakness.
What the hell, since his mother would gnaw on his neck until he got a new suit, he had to go shopping anyway.
He hated shopping, so that part of it felt like a kind of penance. Worse, he had to shell out money for clothes that made him feel like he’d decked himself out in some kind of package. It all took too long, included way too many annoying or baffling decisions, and came perilously close to giving him a headache behind his eyes.
But when he was done he had the suit and a nicely gift-wrapped box—and promised himself he would never, not in this lifetime or any other, go through that experience again.
He texted her twice, and he never texted anyone. He hated texting. His fingers were too damn big for the keys and made him feel clumsy and stupid. Still, he figured his strategy to stay out of her way for a few days had to include basic contact.
By Monday, he calculated he’d stayed out of her way long enough, and called her. He got her voice mail, another technology he hated, even when it included her cool voice.
“Hey, Legs. Just wanted to see if you were up for a drive tonight. We could grab a pizza. I miss your face,” he added before he thought it through. “So, let me know.”
“I’m not going to argue with you now, but I will say if you think I’d blame a boy and his grieving mother in any way for the situation you were caught in, you must think very little of me.”
His tone went as frosty as the air. “I told you, Parker, it’s not about you.”
“Of course it’s about me, you idiot.You idiot, I love you.”
She caught a glimpse of the utter stupefaction on his face before she stormed away.
She caught another glimpse of him during the reception, talking to the newlyweds, and again a bit later, seated at the bar with the FOG in some intense conversation.
She kept her eye on the Franks, prepared to move in if they headed in Malcolm’s direction. Maybe he thought it was none of her business, maybe he thought she didn’t understand, maybe he was just stupid. But she wouldn’t allow anything or anyone to cause trouble at one of her weddings.
She was almost disappointed when it didn’t happen.
“Did you and Mal have a fight?” Mac eased up beside her when the crowd began to thin.
“Why?”
Mac tapped her camera. “I know faces. I know you.”
“I wouldn’t say we had a fight. I’d say we appear to define relationship differently, except he doesn’t acknowledge we’re in a relationship.We’re in a situation.”
“Men can be dumbasses.”
“They really can.”
“Women should all move to Amazonia, or at least vacation there four times a year.”
“Amazonia?”
“It’s the girl world in my head, where I go when I’m annoyed with Carter, or just men in general.There are five shoe stores per capita, nothing has any calories, and all the books and movies end happy ever after.”
“I like Amazonia.When do we leave?”
Mac draped an arm around Parker’s shoulders. “Amazonia, my friend, is always there, inside every woman’s head. Just close your eyes, think: Manolo Blahnik. And you’re there. I’ve got to go get some more shots, then I’ll be right behind you.”
Amused, Parker let herself imagine a calm, soothing, shoeladened female world, but had to admit, she wouldn’t want to live there. An occasional short vacation? It sounded very good.
She watched as the bride and groom took the floor again for the last dance of the evening.
So in love, she thought. So in tune. So ready to start their life together, as partners, as lovers, as companions and mates.
On their way to their happy ever after.
And that, she admitted, was what she’d always wanted.
To make her mark, yes, to do good work, to be a good friend, a good sister, to build something and share something. And with all that, to love and be loved, to promise and accept the promise. To find someone and take hands with him in their own happy ever after.
She couldn’t try for less.
She didn’t see Malcolm again until she’d stepped outside to wave the newlyweds off.
He’d changed into his own clothes, she noted, and looked considerably calmer and more himself.
“Got a minute?” he asked her.
“Yes, a couple of them now.”
“I took a bad reaction out on you, something that’s getting to be a habit. I don’t like the habit.”
“All right.”
“I thought I’d moved on from having that kind of a reaction to Artie. Apparently not.” He dipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t like going back there, so I don’t. There’s no point. I understand you were trying to help.”
“But you don’t want any help.”
“I don’t want to need any. I think that’s a little different.That’s no excuse for lashing out at you.”
“I’m not asking for excuses, Malcolm. I don’t need excuses when I know the reason.”
“I guess I’m still working on the reason. So . . . I’m going to take off. Give us both a little time to smooth out.”
“While you’re smoothing, ask yourself this. Ask yourself if you actually believe I think less of a boy, one grieving for his father, for striking back, for looking for an escape from an abusive bully who held every control. Or if I think less of the man he made himself into because of it.When you’re sure of the answer, let me know.”
She opened the door. “Good night, Malcolm.”
“Parker? Whatever the answer, I still want you.”
“You know where to find me,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HE LIKED TO THINK HE’D SMOOTHED IT OUT. HE COULDN’T REMEMBER ever making that kind of a misstep—much less two in a row—with a woman before.
Then again, Parker was a first on pretty much every level.
He understood a couple of major screw-ups required a reach into the wallet for a token, a symbol—generally for something smelly or shiny. Even the girl who had everything or could easily get it for herself liked a basic I Was an Idiot gift.
He considered flowers, but her house was already loaded with them. Flowers probably hit the low end of the idiot scale anyway.
He mulled the idea of jewelry, but it seemed over the top.
Then he thought of her weakness.
What the hell, since his mother would gnaw on his neck until he got a new suit, he had to go shopping anyway.
He hated shopping, so that part of it felt like a kind of penance. Worse, he had to shell out money for clothes that made him feel like he’d decked himself out in some kind of package. It all took too long, included way too many annoying or baffling decisions, and came perilously close to giving him a headache behind his eyes.
But when he was done he had the suit and a nicely gift-wrapped box—and promised himself he would never, not in this lifetime or any other, go through that experience again.
He texted her twice, and he never texted anyone. He hated texting. His fingers were too damn big for the keys and made him feel clumsy and stupid. Still, he figured his strategy to stay out of her way for a few days had to include basic contact.
By Monday, he calculated he’d stayed out of her way long enough, and called her. He got her voice mail, another technology he hated, even when it included her cool voice.
“Hey, Legs. Just wanted to see if you were up for a drive tonight. We could grab a pizza. I miss your face,” he added before he thought it through. “So, let me know.”
