Born to Make You Smile

TEN

The following Saturday evening, I was watching Charlotte and Mackenzie. I cuddled up with the girls on the couch as we watched TV. Eventually, Mackenzie fell asleep with her head on my lap.

“Grace,” whispered Charlotte. “What do you think of my dad’s girlfriend, Michelle?”

I shrugged with a smile. “She’s very nice. And her son Hunter is sweet.”

“Do you think she’ll end up marrying my dad?”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to be sure to say the right thing despite how much that thought pained me. I didn’t think Gavin marrying Michelle was even a possibility. Perhaps Charlotte caught a whiff of a seriousness brewing between them. “I’m not sure. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “She’s okay, I guess, but I don’t know if I want her to be my new mom. She can’t really cook or sing. Like you. And she kind of ignores us when we’re around. I can’t explain it.”

“Well, she’s still getting to know you and your sister. It can take time.”

“Maybe. Grace, you’ll be an awesome mom someday. I wish there was a way…” She tilted her head side to side with hesitation. “That you could be our—”

Mackenzie woke up with a groan, saying she wanted to go to bed. It was obvious what Charlotte was about to say, and it simultaneously filled my heart and broke it.

After tucking Charlotte and Mackenzie into bed, I went to clean the kitchen. The girls and I had made a macaroni and cheese bake with broccoli and chicken. They were becoming such great chefs. I figured having them more involved would push them to start doing things on their own, just like my mother taught me. However, with three cooks in the kitchen, we’d left behind a huge mess. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Charlotte had said about me being a mom. Perhaps their mom. Sometimes I felt like I could stand in and be that figure. Help fill that void for them. But obviously, that could never happen. An impossibility.

Shaking the thoughts away, I put on my apron, placed my earbuds in, then started to do the dishes.

Earth, Wind I couldn't help but move my body around. I wiggled my bum and swayed my hips. Tilting my head back, I completely lost myself in the music.

Suddenly, the pressure of a hand caused me to jump with a gasp, sending the wet sponge flying into the sink and splashing water all over me. I turned abruptly, and my body slammed into a delicious-smelling mass of white, which I quickly realized was Gavin’s firm chest.

“Whoa,” he said, placing one hand on my waist and the other on my arm.

My heartbeat quickened, and my whole body started to tremble. He smelled intoxicating, so without thinking, instead of moving back, I moved flush against him as if I was no longer in control of my body. My nipples firmed in response, and my lower body tingled. Oh God. Bad idea.

Backing away, I yanked my earbuds out and set them on the counter. My heart continued to pound. “Gavin. How long have you been here?”

Wiping my hands on my apron, I panted and blinked profusely.

He laughed. “Long enough to see your dance moves. Either that or you were being electrocuted. I wasn’t quite sure.”

My cheeks flushed, and I swatted a hand at him.

“You must have been listening to something good,” he said.

“‘Boogie Wonderland,’” I muttered, removing my wet apron.

Gavin chuckled. “Ahh yes, I can’t blame you for grooving out. That’s a good one.”

I looked him over and realized his white dress shirt was soaked. “Gavin. You’re all wet…”

He glanced down at himself. “Not to worry. A touch of water never hurt anyone.”

I watched as he undid the buttons and removed his dress shirt. My breath hitched. He remained in a white T-shirt. A very fitted white T-shirt. Leaving the outline of his chest and strong arms on display.

I quickly turned my reddened face away. My eyes focused on the clock on the oven. It was only five after ten.

“You know, you’re home early,” I said. “I wasn't expecting you so soon.”

“Yeah, I…” He looked away, then back at me, undoubtedly bothered about something. “Michelle was unwell.”

“Oh no. Is she okay?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his neck. “Grace, can I ask you something?”

I nodded, focusing on his concerned face. “Of course.”

“Do you think I'm too reserved? That I'm still too hung up on Judy?”

“No,” I answered without a thought. “What makes you say that?”

“Michelle seems to think I’m deliberately running from commitment. Using Judy as an excuse to put my walls up and not let her in.”

“She said that?” I was kind of surprised that Michelle would say such a thing. However, I couldn’t imagine how difficult and complicated it would be to date a widower, especially being in Judy’s shadow. It would be a tough spot to even attempt to fill.

“Well, she was very tactful with her words, but essentially, yes.” He ran a hand over his face. “To be fair, she might be right. I’m not sure why. I should be ready to open up more, but maybe I keep running away from the possibility of finding love again. Michelle’s wonderful. The kids get along. My family adores her. And believe me, they are a tough crowd to please. But I don’t know. I still feel out of sorts. I think it's hard for me—the guilt over letting myself feel those feelings after Judy. I’m not sure what’s stopping me. It's been seven years, and I know I should move on…”

As Gavin spoke of grief and moving on, I thought about my mother. The pain over losing the most important person in my life. Gone in what felt like an instant. A brain aneurysm. She seemed perfectly fine that morning. But hours later, I received a phone call alerting me she was at the hospital. When I got there, it was too late. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. Apparently, she’d been suffering from headaches and distorted vision for weeks. She never mentioned it to me. I wished I would have known. I would have told her to get checked out. Maybe it could have saved her life.

“Gavin, I've obviously never been in your exact situation, but I know the grief from losing someone you love never really goes away. The pain might go into hiding, but sometimes it comes out in other ways throughout your life. Seven years or one hundred years—no amount of time can heal wounds clean.”

I nodded, blinking tears away.

“You’re right,” Gavin agreed, rubbing a finger along his lips. “Maybe I'm still not ready...I know I don’t want to be alone, but I just don't know what to do.”

Gavin’s face fell. He looked lost and helpless, and my heart ached for him.

“Losing one love doesn’t mean you can’t love again. It’s just different. Changed. Maybe to feel more at peace, it could help to find a way to bring your past life and new life together. Talk about Judy with Michelle, show her photos, remember her. No matter where life takes you, Judy will always be a part of you and your children. Michelle has to understand that.”

“That’s so insightful. It puts a lot of things into perspective.” He nodded, pressing his lips together, his eyes searching my face. “Everything, in fact.”

“You know,” I said. “This might sound crazy, but sometimes I think about Judy and my mom together in heaven. Having coffee and peach cake. Sharing a laugh. As much as I miss them here on earth, I’m glad they have each other, wherever they are. Best friends reunited.”

“Yes. That’s…” He paused for a beat, blinking. “That’s actually a pleasant and comforting thought.”

Gavin scratched his temple, looking around at the catastrophe in the kitchen. “What happened in here anyhow? Did you cook for a rugby team?”

I smiled to hide my embarrassment, moving some cups on the counter into the sink. “The girls helped, and you know how it is. Every pot and pan and kitchen surface had to be used.”

With a long nod, he said, “I’ll take care of the rest.” He drummed his fingers on the counter, then pushed himself off. “Come on. Let me escort you home.”

We walked to my front door. The dim amber porch light accentuated the sharp lines of his face. My gaze traveled over the muscles in his arms and chest, emphasized by his tight white T-shirt. I swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. He gazed at me with an appreciative grin, then reached into his pocket and handed me my payment, folded in half. It was thick—definitely too many bills.

“Good night, Grace. I really appreciate your kind and insightful words tonight. It truly helped. And I’m so very thankful to have you in my life. For everything you do. Not only for me but for my daughters as well.”

My heart warmed, pleased that I was able to help. “Of course. Anytime.”

I suddenly realized we stood a hair too close together, that kind of space bordering on personal. He stared at me with a deep warmth in his eyes. He blinked, and I’d never noticed how long and gorgeous his eyelashes were before. He licked his lips, and suddenly, I had a strong craving to move closer to him, to lean forward slightly and put my mouth on his. I wanted to taste him. His skin, his lips, his whole body. I’d never felt such an intense urge to devour a man in my life. I wasn’t sure what was coming over me.

My skin seared with flames as I turned to open my door, fumbling my keys like I had no control over my hand.

When I entered my house, I pressed my back against the door and released a slow breath.

God. Why was this happening to me? How could I make it stop? How could I learn to ignore these dangerous blooming feelings buried within me?

***

That night, I couldn’t sleep. As I lay in bed, listening to the pattering of heavy rain on my windows and roof, thoughts of Gavin invaded my brain.

His handsome face, his strong features, his nose, his mouth, his jaw. I pictured his dazzling smile; the way the corners of his green eyes wrinkled gently, showing his age; his experience, his vast knowledge of the world. Then there was his scent. A mix of wood, fresh laundry, all man. I thought about his hands—rugged yet gentle with the fine motor skills of a surgeon. Hours upon hours, I’d watched those hands at work, knowing what they were capable of. I could hear his distinct accent and his tone in my mind. Deep and sexy.

Suddenly, my mind began to wander. I pictured the two of us standing on my front porch. Rain soaking through his white T-shirt. I’d help him take it off, then I’d lick the rain off his bare chest, moving up to his mouth. I imagined how incredible he’d taste. How satisfying it would be for our bodies to connect.

My body flushed with warmth, and I felt my clit pulse in a steady rhythm. It was as if I could actually hear the beat.

Bip. Bip. Bip.

Wait. That wasn’t my clit. That was the sound of actual dripping water inside the house.

I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs toward the source of the sound.

After flicking on the living room light, I couldn’t believe the sight before me. Water was dripping through the many large open cracks in the ceiling by the bay window, sitting in a puddle on the hardwood floor. My breathing picked up while my gut tumbled. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Scurrying away, I fetched some bowls, pails, anything I could find to hold the water, as well as several towels to sop up the mess.

I surveyed the disaster around me. This was definitely going to cost me. God. I should have dealt with the small cracks last month. What was I going to do?

***

Over the next few days, I did some research and called several contractors to assess the ceiling damage. The first quote I received for the repairs was so ridiculous I thought he was joking. Apparently, he recommended I replace the whole living room ceiling. He even suggested I redo the rest of the main floor, the entire outside, the shingles as well as the awnings and drainage systems. That Friday, I received another quote that was even higher than the first. My entire body became uneasy, and I couldn’t eat or sleep, unsure of how I would deal with this financially.

The second contractor actually suggested not to bother with the repairs, to just go ahead and sell the house. He told me I could make a fortune, as this area was in high demand for teardowns and rebuilds. While I appreciated his honesty, I wanted to laugh. Then cry. I couldn’t sell. This house was all I’d ever known; it was part of my family. A part of my mom. The only part of her I had left. This house always took care of me when I was lonely. The walls kept me warm and protected. My sanctuary. My haven. I couldn’t give up on it just because it was old and sick. Not to mention, I’d no longer be next door to Gavin or the girls if I sold. The Brinleys were my precious second family. I had to find a way to save this place. Telling Gavin about my situation and asking him for a raise or an advance crossed my mind.

With a sigh, I picked up my phone and sent a message I never thought I’d have to send.

Me: Hey, Vanessa. It’s Grace. I was wondering if that job at the club is still available by any chance?