Part 18 (1/2)
He wasn't ready to admit to anything, especially to anything related to his mother. ”Are you?”
She nodded. ”For many years I tried to 'fix' her, and when I couldn't, I used to dream she'd finally do something so horrible that I could in good conscience cut her loose. I had this friend, Lisa, in high school, whose mother often disappeared for days at a time, leaving her to fend for herself-no food, no money. When Lisa turned sixteen, she walked out of there with her chin up and never looked back. She cut her mother off from her life. I was so jealous of her! I couldn't do that because my mother wouldn't let me. Every so often she'd do something nice or offer me a glimpse of the person beneath all that mess her life was, and I couldn't walk away. She couldn't take care of herself. I felt responsible for her inability to cope. How crazy is that, right? In the end the joke was on me because I was unable to manage a normal life too.”
Cole looked at her, feeling like a total shmuck for going on that pity party in front of Christy when she'd had it so much worse. She'd been depending on others for her sense of value, well-being, and happiness, and when that hadn't come, it had crippled her. No wonder she didn't know how to take compliments. No one had encouraged her, built up her self-esteem, taught her she had worth. Without self-esteem or a safety net under her, she'd been a scared little girl eating her feelings away every time she felt bad or unworthy, which, judging by the way she talked about her childhood, was pretty much all the time.
”Anyway,” she continued, ”the bottom line was I couldn't turn my back on her, but d.a.m.n, what I wouldn't have given for her to turn her back on me.”
He felt his lips quirking up. ”How did you solve your impa.s.se?”
”It's called the accept-smile-and-walk-away technique. She still has the power to riddle me like no one else, but all in all things are better. I won't lie to you; Fred and her focus on him has helped. You'll work out your thing with your mother too.”
”No, I won't. She died some months ago.” He hadn't told anyone before. Hadn't spoken with his brothers about their mother's death. His dad had called and told him the news, but he hadn't even been interested in going to the funeral.
She turned to him and touched him slightly on his arm. ”I'm so sorry, Cole.”
”Don't be. I'm not particularly sorry myself.”
She didn't seem to believe him, or if so, she chose to ignore his words. ”How did you find out? Did she reach for you at the end?”
He laughed drily. ”Nope, my dad had always kept tabs on her. I don't know why, probably some misplaced sense of responsibility. He told me she'd finally kicked the bucket. Drank herself to death, I suppose. Or maybe the loser she was living with helped a bit.”
Eyes glimmering with compa.s.sion, she climbed onto his lap and, without a word, curled herself around him, her head nestling in his neck. He stiffened, but she ignored it and hugged him tighter.
Christy didn't allow any s.p.a.ce between them. Without even knowing it herself, she demanded intimacy of a magnitude he'd never known.
When it became obvious she wasn't going anywhere, he relaxed into her embrace. She was soft and smelled of him and he loved it.
”You don't need to pretend around me that you don't care,” she whispered.
”I. Don't. Care.” When you cared, people disappointed you. He didn't need that.
”Yes, you do.”
His temper flared. ”Don't pretend to be telling me how I feel.”
He expected her to stiffen, give him some lecture about his lack of social skills; G.o.d knows he'd heard that before from his nonrelations.h.i.+ps. He didn't do feelings. s.e.x he could do, to everyone's content, but that was about it, the extent of his involvement. The total of his interpersonal skills.
Christy surprised him by laughing. ”Hold your horses, soldier. G.o.d forbid I'd tell you how you should feel or how you should take care of your own s.h.i.+t.”
Cole looked at her and felt something very unfamiliar in his chest. Heartburn maybe? He couldn't breathe properly, as if something was constricting his throat.
He wrapped his arms around her, marveling at how perfectly she fit in his lap, how perfectly she fit him.
”Let it never be said I stand between a man and his grouch,” she continued, ”but let me tell you something. When they asked Charlie Chaplin what was, in his opinion, the key for a long, happy life, do you know what he answered?”
”I don't know. Humor?”
”Nope. According to him, the key for a happy, long life is a short memory.”
Cole snorted. ”Wrong. The key to a happy life is to religiously base your life on a bunch of premises you won't, under any circ.u.mstances, ever test. Like the typical 'I know he's married, but if I ask him to leave his wife for me, he will.' The idea is to never ever test those premises. The f.u.c.kers who manage to live happily ever after are precisely those who wallow in blissful ignorance. They are all fools, but they are happy fools. My mother taught me that.”
He vividly remembered how it had felt when Rachel walked out. He'd been the only one home. When he realized she was leaving, he'd asked her to stay. Begged on his f.u.c.king knees for her not to go. Poor, innocent boy that he'd been, he hadn't known all those rules, and in his ignorance he tested the hypothesis. It had crushed him. The shock had cured him of any romantic fantasies about life. Never test the premises you're building your life on, or better yet, don't have them. No premises, no expectations, no needs, no disappointment.
Christy clicked her tongue. ”You're a cynic, Mr. Bowen.”
Well, he'd been called much worse. He could live with cynic.
She reached for him, her small hands cupping his jaw. ”But I like you anyway,” she whispered and, offering him a sweet smile, placed a soft kiss on his lips. ”You're a good man, one any mother would be proud of claiming.”
His heart all but stopped. G.o.d, s.e.x he could handle just fine, but genuine displays of affection, which to her came so naturally, unmanned him. He tucked her head under his chin, hugged her tighter, and breathed deep, wondering how long it would take for his hands to stop shaking.
For the first time in his life he wished he weren't a cynic, because by G.o.d, he ached for her. For something he didn't even know how to name.
But women left. That's what they did, that's who they were. So yes, s.e.x with Christy was fabulous. She made his d.i.c.k stand at full attention in record time, but that was all there was to it. The rules hadn't changed. Couldn't change.
He refused to think about the tight feeling he got in his gut every time he looked at her. Every time he thought of her, actually. The fact that his chest clutched up and his heart tumbled whenever she reached for him, he was going to ignore too.
They sat there in silence for a while. It didn't feel uncomfortable; it felt...right.
”Cole?”
”Mmm?”
”Your aunt invited me to a barbecue this Sunday. At your dad's place. I tried to decline, but it didn't work too well.”
Sure it didn't work. It was a miracle Aunt Maggie had taken this long to b.u.t.t in.
”I'd understand if you don't want me to go,” she continued. ”I can become suddenly ill, get bedridden.”
He laughed. ”And you truly believe that would save you? Unless you can fake a fatal disease, you better give up right now and spare yourself the pain. Aunt Maggie is stubborn that way.”
She lifted her face, her expression fierce. ”I bet she is, and I don't want to be disrespectful, but to me it doesn't matter so much what your aunt wants. I want to know what you want. I don't want to put you in an awkward position.”
He paused. What did he want? How did he feel about having her at the barbecue? He never took anyone to the family events. But he looked at those witch eyes, now watching him with uncertainty, and the answer was plain obvious to him.
”Come to the barbecue,” he said, cupping her face, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. ”But be ready for the third degree.”
”You know, I've overseen extremely complicated demolition projects overseas that have taken less time than this trip to the supermarket,” Cole said while standing in the middle of the grocery store, a frown marring his handsome face.
Christy laughed. ”This was your idea, remember? You wanted to know what I usually eat.”
”I had no clue about the magnitude of the whole enterprise. I'm growing old here, Christy.”
She rolled her eyes. ”That's because you're fis.h.i.+ng, Cole. If you stick to my aisles, we'll go faster, mister,” she said, striding away to get the milk while Cole followed, carrying the basket with groceries.
In spite of having to read almost all the product labels in this place to convince him of why she couldn't eat what he suggested, shopping with Cole was fun. She'd never shared this part of her life with anyone so openly. It was...exhilarating. And terrifying at the same time.
Her relations.h.i.+p with Cole was fast developing into something else. Yesterday she'd realized something she was sure very few people outside his inner circle knew-Cole's thick skin was a defense mechanism. He'd been badly hurt by the very woman who should have loved him unconditionally, and he was still nursing that hurt. No wonder that with his mistrust of women and his need for control, he was just ensuring he always ended up on top. In spite of understanding the futility of getting close to someone as unavailable and closed off as Cole, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. Which really wasn't smart.