Sparkle (Lock & Key MC #11)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

“Ma?” Wes’s voice bellowed from the front door. Slam.

“In the kitchen!” I poured a cup of coffee for my boy.

Wes blew into the kitchen, blue eyes gleaming as he parked a bright red bakery box tied with a red ribbon from the Meager Grand Café on the counter in front of me.

“What’s this, baby?” I passed him his coffee as he lowered the hoodie from his head and shook out his dark hair. “A Valentine for my one and only mother.” He planted a messy loud kiss on my cheek, and we both broke out in laughter as we hugged.

Every year Wes gave me a Valentine’s Day present, often goofy, usually super tasty. He wasn’t a card-giving kind of guy, but he’d always got me a present since he was a little boy and he’d kept up that tradition.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I cut open the red ribbons and lifted the box cover. “Oooo, Wes!” A heart-shaped flourless chocolate cake with big curling white and dark chocolate shavings and red glitter all over it. “Yum, honey, thank you!” I kissed his cheek once more. “Let’s have a bite.”

“Don’t ruin it. Save it for you and Ronny.”

“We’re going out tonight, and we’ll be having dessert. Come on, let’s taste it.”

He took a knife out of a drawer and handed it to me. I cut a slice for him and one for me.

“So damn good,” he said through a full mouth.

“Perfect breakfast, huh?” Laughing, I wiped my hands on a napkin and gave him one too. “What did you get your girl for Valentine’s Day? Did you make any plans?”

“What do you mean?” He swallowed another mouthful of the rich cake.

“The girl you’ve been seeing. I never got an introduction, but I’ve seen her around town. What’s her name? Tracy?”

He tilted his head. “Tilly?”

“That’s it. What did you get Tilly? What are your plans for tonight other than sex?”

He cut another thin slice. “We aren’t seeing each other anymore. That’s over.”

“Over? You just started dating!”

“Dating? It was a New Year’s Eve hookup, Ma, and that was that.”

“But you kept hooking up.”

“Well, yeah. But once February rolled around, it was time for me to put a stop to it, because as you just demonstrated, she’d be expecting Valentine’s Day shit to happen and that was not going to happen.”

“Oh, Wes.” I swiped at the chocolate glaze with my finger and licked. “Are you kidding me?”

He snapped up a thick shaved curl of chocolate and popped it in his mouth. “This holiday is bull crap, and we all know it. It makes us paranoid, wondering if our partner likes us enough to spend a zillion bucks on a zillion roses and an overpriced dinner at a loud crowded restaurant. Buy the card with just the right sentiments. And on top of that yet another present is expected or you’re a failure. Some kind of real jewelry or else. Who’s got the time or the cash, I ask you? And then a night of perfect sex must be had. That’s a lot of pressure and a ton of money if you ask me.”

“You just exhausted me.”

“I rest my case.”

I closed the cake box. “You do this every year. If you’re with someone, the second you see February 14 on the horizon, you take off for the hills like a bandit on the run.”

He raised his hands in the air. “Being honest.”

“But when are you going to let yourself like somebody? Actually really like somebody?”

“I like plenty of girls.”

“I know you do. But you know what I mean.”

“I’m not interested in going steady—that’s what you called it in your day, isn’t it? Or was that in Grandma’s day?” He cracked up laughing.

I rolled my eyes as I washed the slick of chocolate off the cutting knife. “Honey, you’re twenty-five years old, and you’ve never been in any kind of relationship.”

“Are you saying there’s something wrong with me, or are you just super eager to pick out a mother-of-the-groom dress and have grandchildren to babysit?”

“See what you just did? You’re deflecting.” I dried my hands on a towel. “What I’m super eager for is to see you happy and fulfilled, and I really don’t think you’re either. Frankly, it’s not just your personal life, it’s your professional life too.”

“Excuse me? I work for you, remember?”

“Honey, I could have you booked all day, six days a week at the tattoo shop, but you refuse to work more than two to three days at most.”

“Cause I’m working two days a week with Lock at Eagle Wings too. Then I have to take a “me day” to recover.”

“Did you really just say that?”

“Ma, I work, I pay my rent on time. What’s wrong? What I do isn’t good enough for you? You expected more from the college grad, is that it?”

“The opposite! You’re good, Wes, so good, so talented. And you’re putting that graphic design degree to use. Lock loves your work, and your clients at the tattoo shop love your work. I have a waiting list for you, and I’m not only referring to the teenage girls who have a massive crush on you.”

“See? I’m special.”

“That’s just it, baby. You are special. So why are you?—”

“I thought your twenties were supposed to be the decade of exploring and discovering.”

I let out a sigh. “You know the Jacks would love for you to prospect for the club.”

“Not interested. And as for women, just because you and Dad got married young doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

“No, of course not. I didn’t expect that. Not that we were any inspiring example of a good marriage for you.”

He leaned back against the counter, his face shuttered. “You said it, not me.”

Boom.

My mouth dried. It killed me to know my and Jump’s crazy had affected our son so badly. And now the last thing he was interested in was a committed relationship. Or committing to anything.

He let out a huff of air. “Sorry, Ma, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I think I did.”

“You didn’t. You were the one who never let go of the ball. You kept trying.”

“Maybe that was a mistake. I don’t think it should be that hard, and there comes a point when you need to let it go.”

“Have you?”

“Let go of Jump? Haven’t I?”

“You and Ronny have been together for over five years now. Or is it hooking up for five years?”

“It’s way more than that, smart ass. It’s a real relationship. but I don’t want to get married again.” I threw the bakery box ribbon in the garbage. “Ronny knows that. He’s not interested in a piece of paper either. It’s not important to us.”

“Cool. But you’re not really living together a hundred percent either, right? He stays over here, your and Dad’s house, a house that looks the same since you and Dad separated, and you stay over at his place. You carry your shit around in one of your designer tote bags in your car, and he’s got a bag with his shit in his truck.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Don’t you want to officially live together, full-time? Ever? Don’t non-hook up, fully committed couples do that kind of thing?”

I shifted my weight. “We are fully committed.”

“In neutral gear.”

“That’s not?—”

The doorbell rang.

Tilting his head, he let out a laugh. “Saved by the bell, huh?”

Rolling my eyes, I turned and went to the front door. Jimmy, the delivery guy from the Meager florist, stood at my doorway with a huge bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. “Hey, Alicia. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Thank you, Jimmy. You too.” I handed him a tip from my handbag on the table and took the flowers. Their fragrance was intense, thickly sweet. Seductive. I loved roses. In some things, I was a traditionalist.

I brought the bouquet to the kitchen.

“Whoa! Two dozen red roses? Oh, baby, somebody’s getting lucky tonight.”

“Westley!”

“I said that on purpose to illustrate my point. You see what I’ve been saying?” He unwrapped the flowers from their protective covering as I found a vase and filled it with water.

“Ronny’s the best.” I arranged the roses. They were magnificent. I let out a sigh as we both stared at the massive velvety red bouquet.

“They’re gorgeous, Mom. You deserve them. Ronny’s a good guy.”

“He is.”

He slung an arm around my shoulders. “Have you let go of Dad? Really let go?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I started letting go when he moved out. When I kicked him out. And now he’s–”

“Dead and gone.” Wes’s tone was edged in bitterness. He pulled away from me but his heavy gaze snagged on mine.

Had either of us truly let go of the man we’d loved, of the dream grief, anger, regret and even guilt?

I’d finally, finally kicked Jump out of this house for his cheating and nastiness, and within weeks he’d gotten killed.

“Your father was who he was, and he lived it large and loud and unapologetically.”

“Something to aspire to.” A bitter smirk broke over my son’s handsome features as he crossed his arms.

A chill crept over my chest and up my throat. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“You worried I’m going to end up like Dad? Can’t sit still? Can’t be honest? Full of wrath? Always doggin’?”

“Westley. You are not like that. Never have been, never will be.”

“Says who?” He shot back. His blue eyes darkened, and something in my heart squeezed. “Maybe you should ask the long line of girls I’ve gone through over the years.” He straightened up from the counter and put his empty coffee cup in the dishwasher. “I’m glad you’re happy with Ronny, I really am. But relationships are not my thing. Not right now.”

“I realize at your age all you can think about is getting laid.”

“On that, we can agree.”

We both laughed.

“You wait…one day, a girl will come along and you’re going to do a double take. And not because she’s so damn hot, but because there’s something about her that calls to you.”

“Uh-huh.” His lips flattened. I was boring him, or at least he was pretending.

“Something you need to connect with.”

“Since when are you a fairy tale romantic?”

“Right? I used to be a hardcore fucking realist, didn’t I?”

“See? There’s still hope for me—many, many decades from now. So relax. I’m going to get going.”

“Thank you for the cake. I love it.” I hugged him.

“You enjoy your romantic evening, and I’m gonna enjoy a pizza and a few beers and my new PlayStation.”

“Wow, it’s a Saturday night and you’re staying home?”

“Hell yeah. The pink and red heart decorations covering every inch of Meager since yesterday are nauseating. When I get off work this afternoon I’ll be heading straight to my cave where I’ll stay put until it’s over and safe to come out again.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“I have half a pan of lasagna from last night. You want it?”

“Really?” He zipped up his hoodie. “With the cheesy cream sauce or mozzarella?”

“The cheesy cream sauce, of course.”

His face lit up. “Yes!” He opened the fridge and grabbed the pan. “My night is now complete. Thanks, Mom.”

I wrapped the pan with more foil and put it a shopping bag. “You’re welcome.” I followed him to the front door and he tracked to his bike on the street and packed the food into his dad’s bike.

No, it’s his bike now.

“Knock yourself out tonight, big guy.” I waved as I laughed.

“Hey, you too!” he said loudly from across the front lawn. “And, Mom—don’t forget to use the condoms.” Grinning, he turned to my neighbor, the eternally disapproving Mrs. Thompson, who stood stock-still at her mailbox after what she’d just heard, mail in hand. “Good morning, Mrs. T.”

Mrs. Thompson shot us both cold glances. “Good morning, Wes.”

Wes slid on his sunglasses, his grin wider as he got on his motorcycle. “Happy Valentine’s Day, ladies!”