Feels Like Falling Read online

  “Hi, Mrs. Harrington,” I said, in what I hoped was a sophisticated way. One look from that woman took me from a confident and independent forty-year-old back to that scared eighteen-year-old I’d been.

  I could feel anticipation welling in me as she leaned over to give me the smallest hug you can even imagine. How would we tell her? And when?

  Then Frank just blurted out, “You’re not going to be the only Mrs. Harrington soon, Mom. Diana and I are getting married.”

  He smiled and put his arm around me and looked as happy as could be. I felt myself go whiter than that suit or those giant pearls around her neck. Just decided to dive right in, I guess.

  Mrs. Harrington turned and led us to the living room. Oh, that view. Water and sand in all directions. I wouldn’t hate living here when she kicked the—

  Mrs. Harrington interrupted my thoughts. “That’s fine. I’ve made peace with this whole thing.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Frank. That’s when my nerves finally began to subside.

  “Mom, we’ve loved each other for twenty-two years. We don’t want to wait.”

  “I’m too old to run,” I agreed. I winked at Frank. “Pretty soon I’ll be too fat too.”

  She gasped in shock. “You aren’t saying…?”

  Frank filled in: “Diana is carrying your grandchild.”

  “Good Lord.” She put her hand on her forehead like she was going to keel over right there from the mere thought of it. She smirked at me. “So this is how you roped him into it? You got pregnant.”

  Looking around her pretty living room with all her things, I kind of quit being scared of Mrs. Harrington. Instead, I felt right sorry for her. So I smiled and said, “Yup. That’s exactly right. I just knew that at forty I’d get pregnant, no sweat, and trap your son right into marriage. And it worked too. Lucky me!”

  Frank squeezed my shoulder and looked at his mom. “Diana didn’t rope me into anything. I tracked her down, and I wasn’t letting her run away from me again. I’ve loved her for more than twenty years, and I’m too old not to live my life and be happy.”

  She shook her head. “It keeps getting worse. Well, you need to go get married right now before people start talking.”

  Frank and I both laughed.

  “Mom,” he said, “with all due respect, I’m not sure that us being unwed is the most shocking part of this.” He added, “Just think, Mom. You can buy bootees and tiny pajamas.”

  It softened her a touch, and I about fell plumb out of my chair when she said, “Well, I have always wanted a grandchild.” She looked at Frank. “Darling, could you please go in the kitchen and get us all some iced tea?”

  Frank looked at me questioningly, and I nodded my approval. Frank had my back now. That was all I needed to know.

  When he was gone, she said, “Diana, I’m going to be honest with you. You weren’t what I wanted for my son—”

  “But—” I protested.

  She put her hand up. “Let me finish.” She started again: “You weren’t what I wanted for my son back then. But you have been between us for all this time. I saw you in every one of Frank’s far-off glances, in every quiet moment.” Tears were forming in her eyes. “I thought he was better off without you, but the only thing pushing him away from you did was keep him from ever marrying, from ever having children, from ever having all the things I thought I was giving him by breaking you two up.”

  I could feel the tears in my eyes now too. “Can I be honest with you?”

  She nodded.

  “I have spent twenty-two years feeling unworthy of your son, unworthy of his love. But, Mrs. Harrington, Frank and I have both realized that we aren’t whole without each other.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek now, and she whispered. “After Frank Senior died, I realized that life is short. You two both deserve to be happy. I might not be perfect, Diana, but I will never stand in the way of my son’s joy again.”

  I swear, she looked something right near happy. But it was only for a second. As Frank walked back in with a tray of iced teas, she sat up straight, composed herself, and said, “Have you two set a date? We need to start thinking about flowers—”

  “We don’t need all that,” I interrupted. “I think we’re going to get married somewhere simple by ourselves.”

  “Yeah,” Frank said. He turned to me. “We need to figure out where.”

  I smiled, so surprised and happy at how this day had gone, so relieved that, after all of it, I might just get another momma out of Mrs. Harrington. Family was all that mattered now. Family was everything. And I realized that when it came to our wedding, I wasn’t clueless about where it should be after all. In fact, I knew just the place.

  CHAPTER 19

  gray: happily ever after, the sequel

  If I thought I was good at social media, once I started following Brooke, I realized I was wrong. That made sense, because she had six more of her teen years to use it. I figure that, by the time Wagner grows up, kids will be born knowing how to make their YouTube videos go viral. It will be a biological adaptation like opposable thumbs. Brooke had started a blog to document her ever-fascinating life, and, much to my surprise, she had jumped on my idea for her and Greg to move down here as soon as he had pitched it. She loved the idea so much, in fact, that she had asked me to go house hunting with her.

  Before we left, Diana had sat me down and said, “Look, Gray. I know you don’t want to be friends with Brooke. But if you want to win the fight with Greg, she’s your best shot at getting what you want.” I had sighed and rolled my eyes. But I always do what Diana says.

  We had spent sixteen hours—yes, sixteen—over two days looking at every house on the market. Either they weren’t close enough to the water or they were too big, too small, didn’t have an office for Greg, didn’t have a nursery for their future baby (gag), needed too much work, didn’t need any work…

  Until we looked at the house next door. As in, next door to me. It was a cedar-shake, four-bedroom, four-bath house built in the late 1950s. It had tons of character, a chef’s kitchen, and a view that was almost as good as mine. The bathrooms hadn’t been redone to Brooke’s specifications, but that was good because it gave her a project.

  “Gray!” she had squealed. “It is perfect, perfect, perfect! Don’t you think?” We were sitting on the back porch, from which you could just make out my back porch. The exhausted realtor had claimed she had a call, but, really, I think she needed a power nap in the car.

  “It is a good house,” I agreed.

  “Gray,” Brooke said seriously. I could tell an abrupt subject change was coming. “Can I talk to you?”

  “We’ve been talking for two days,” I said with only the tiniest hint of snark.

  She laughed and looked down at her hands. “No, I just…” She trailed off and then looked back up at me. “I want to apologize to you. I’ve never really done it, and I want to now.”

  I was shocked. I looked back at her, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I didn’t think about you,” she continued. “I swear I didn’t. It was just like you and Wagner were this inanimate roadblock between what I wanted—Greg—and where I was. And I didn’t care about your family or the consequences or anything.” She looked into my eyes as she said, “I was wrong. And if you don’t want me next door, I understand.”

  This was my moment. I had the golden opportunity to talk her out of buying this house. But, again, sixteen hours. Sixteen hours. Don’t ever underestimate that woman. She knew what she was doing. It kind of made me like her.

  And I didn’t even try to talk her out of it. I just grinned and said what I was thinking: “Now Wagner will be right next door on my off weeks!” There was something seriously wrong with me. But that was true about Wagner.

  Now Brooke had a great excuse to walk the short distance between our two houses pretty much every day and ask for advice on her foray into the Internet. Truth be told, she was gaining followers so rapidly I thought I might need
some advice from her. She usually brought some sort of fresh-squeezed cocktail, which made it tolerable.

  Otherwise, life was getting back to some semblance of normal. Well, as normal as it can be with your ex-husband and his almost new wife living beside you and your kid going to a new school with new friends and sharing custody and your sister taking up what might be permanent residence in your house. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen Price, but we had talked daily, and he’d finally convinced me to go out with him.

  “What in the hell are you waiting for anyway?” Diana had asked me. “Your boobs to fall all the way to the floor?”

  “Yeah,” Marcy said, “He’s cute. Get in the game.” She paused, looking totally dejected. “And see if he has any friends. I’m not doing so hot on my finding-a-husband quest.”

  I looked at her in amazement. “Marcy, I had everyone in town trying to find you a man and then you started hooking up with the hot lifeguard.”

  “I know,” she pouted. “But you just looked like you were having so much fun with Andrew.”

  Fun, I thought. And now I am alone.

  I smiled at Diana, still a bit shocked to see her with that tiny protruding belly of hers. “Speaking of marriage,” I said, “you waiting for the delivery room to tie the knot?”

  In all honesty, selfishly, I wanted her to go ahead and get married before she got big enough that Wagner noticed. I wasn’t thrilled about having to explain to my kid that the whole “you fall in love and get married and have a baby” thing didn’t necessarily happen in that order. I was trying to hold on to his rapidly retreating innocence as long as possible.

  “I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said.

  “If you’re wanting her to be a bridesmaid and wear a hideous dress,” Marcy said, “I’ll be in the front row.”

  “No, no. No hideous dresses. It’s just…” She paused.

  “Oh my gosh!” I said, not even realizing that I was interrupting. “You should get married here! In the yard or on the porch or whatever.”

  She smiled. “Great minds,” she said. “That’s what I was going to ask. We won’t be a whole lot of trouble. We’re not inviting anyone. Just us and the preacher.”

  “Well, and me,” Marcy said. “I’m obviously coming. It will save the awkwardness of my hanging out the window with my binoculars.”

  “I’m coming too,” I said. “I’m a little hurt you aren’t inviting me, but it doesn’t matter because I’m coming anyway.”

  Diana shook her head. “I don’t want all that.”

  But I wanted it for her, I realized. “Just picture it,” I said. “A tent set up overlooking the water, a beautiful cross of flowers in between you and Frank, the sun dancing on the water, a quartet playing as you walk down the aisle.…”

  Now Marcy chimed in: “Rows of gold chairs with flowers on them and flowers on the tables and flowers everywhere—”

  “Hey,” I said, “flowers are my thing. You know that.”

  Marcy shrugged. “Well, fine. Get there faster.”

  “Peonies and hydrangeas and bells of Ireland.”

  “Sushi and prime rib and those little lamb chop lollipops.”

  This was when I would bring it home. “And a vintage black-and-white-checked dance floor, with you in the arms of the man you have loved for your entire life.” It actually brought tears to my eyes. Marcy and I were good.

  “Damn it!” Diana said. “Guess that means I’ll have to invite Frank’s mom.…”

  “Oh, we’ll make short work of her,” Marcy said.

  Diana smiled. “She’s actually kind of come around. I think it’s going to be okay.” Diana sat down and sighed. “Now I’m exhausted. I didn’t want any of that.”

  I smiled at her. Diana had gotten her happy ending. It made me hopeful for tonight with Price. It had been long and convoluted, but maybe I’d get my happy ending too. Well, maybe more like my happy ending mulligan.

  My phone rang, breaking me out of my thoughts. Andrew. Damn. It was as if he sensed I was thinking about another man. I wasn’t going to answer. But it was Andrew, precious Andrew. I couldn’t help myself. “Hello,” I said, walking out of the kitchen.

  “Hi, beautiful.”

  I smiled. He was so very adorable. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” he said. “But I’m missing you.”

  I didn’t say anything. But I was missing him too.

  “Look how good I’ve been,” he said. “I’ve left you alone. I’ve dated. But all I can think about is that whoever I’m with isn’t you.”

  I sighed. I wanted to agree with him. I wanted to give in and say, Forget about what I said. Let’s be together.

  But nothing had changed. He was still too young for me. It still wasn’t going to work out long-term. There was no reason to drag it out.

  “Andrew, look.” I bit my lip. I couldn’t bear to hurt him, but this would make it easier, right? It was for his own good. “It was a fun summer, but it’s over. Move on.”

  “But, Gray—”

  “Andrew, I’m serious. It’s probably best if we don’t talk anymore.”

  It was like ripping out fresh stitches.

  “Fine,” he said, his voice cold. “But I want you to hear me when I say this. I’m out, Gray. For good. And let me tell you right now that you are going to look back, and you’re going to wish that you hadn’t brushed me off so easily. Yeah, I’m young, but I want to be very clear about something: No one—and I do mean no one—is ever going to love you like I do. No one is ever going to take care of you like I do.” He was so angry and so hurt that it shifted something in me. Maybe I hadn’t taken him seriously enough when I’d had him. “I was willing to fight for you, Gray. I was willing to give you time to get over your hesitations. But it’s very clear to me now that I never meant anything to you. So, good-bye. For real. I hope you find what you’re looking for, because it sure as hell isn’t me.”

  And with that, he hung up—and I felt awful. I walked back to the kitchen, sat down on the stool, and put my head in my hands.

  “What?” Marcy asked.

  “I just broke up with Andrew. Again.” I paused. “And he was, like, super pissed.” My heart was still racing from our exchange—and also with the fear that maybe I had done the wrong thing.

  “Yikes,” Marcy said. “The good news is, you’ll be bringing Price home tonight to ease your pain.”

  “I will not,” I protested.

  “Will not what?” The back door slammed. Ah, Quinn. My pretty-much-back-to-normal sister.

  I’d never seen anything quite like it, the way she bounced back. I mean, she didn’t bounce all the way back. She was like a normal human now. She wasn’t snorting lines off my bathroom counter, but she also wasn’t pushing pamphlets. She seemed to have found some middle ground.

  “So,” Diana said. “I hear you’ve crossed back over from the dark side.”

  “Ha-ha,” Quinn said, opening the fridge. She grabbed a can of whipped cream and sprayed it into her mouth.

  “Quinn, honestly.”

  “What do you have all that whipped cream for anyway?” she asked.

  Marcy laughed, and Diana looked at me pointedly. Simultaneously, they said, “Andrew.”

  I felt my face redden. “Marcy, I shared that with you in the confidence of best friends.”

  “Oh, puhleeze,” Diana said, “do you think I was born yesterday?” She sashayed across the room, wiggled her eyebrows at me, and said, “Do you think I haven’t had my share of whipped cream?”

  “Ooh la la,” Marcy said. “Pregnant lady’s a little saucy.”

  “So,” Diana said as Quinn hoisted herself onto the counter, firmly planting her rear end on my marble, “do we need to get you in the witness protection program or something?”

  I was going to miss that wit of hers. Frank had been by and asked me to let her go. I liked Frank, I did, and I wanted the best for Diana. But if she wasn’t ready to let go of her job, I sure wasn’t going to push
her out. Plus, I couldn’t even think about not seeing her every day. I never would have imagined it from that day we met at Meds and More, but I felt like, in some weird way, we were always meant to find each other.

  Quinn shrugged. “Nah. I think stabbing Elijah scared him pretty good.” She sprayed her whipped cream can again. “I mean, I know the Bible says women should be subservient to their husbands, but, damn. I have limits, you know?”

  She still hadn’t told me exactly what happened that night, and I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to know.

  Marcy opened the fridge and popped the top on a can of sparkling water. She leaned over the counter, her impossibly long, tan legs peeking out of her frayed jean shorts. “So how, pray tell, did you decult?” She took a sip. “I mean, purely for therapy research purposes, of course.” She winked at me.

  “It’s so weird. It’s like, all of a sudden, I realized that this man was a nutjob. Like, I don’t doubt he loved me or anything, but I just saw him really clearly for who he was. And he wasn’t good.” She shrugged. “I’m still glad he got me in church and everything. But I realized that the Jesus I was getting to know would have wanted more for me than a man trying to tell me what to do every second.”

  “And the stabbing was because…?” Marcy prodded.

  “I came home from the store and was getting ready to cook the spatchcock chicken Elijah had requested for dinner that night, and I walked in the bathroom and all my makeup was gone.”

  She had all of our attention. “Just as I was cutting the whole chicken apart, Elijah came in, and I asked him where all my stuff was, and he said he threw it out, and he was super pissed because he found birth control pills in my makeup bag. Of course, I got pissed because he’d thrown out about five hundred dollars’ worth of Trish McEvoy and three months of birth control. And then he started getting all mad and crazy-eyed, so I stabbed him in the arm with a pair of scissors to keep him from getting closer.” I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. “In fairness, I warned him that I would.”

  She told the story in a tone that would lead you to believe she was saying, One day I was walking to the mailbox, and I saw a butterfly.