Cup of Sugar (22 page)

“I took your advice about Conn.”

“Awe-fucking-some.”

“Then I called it off.”

Sara groaned. “I retract that. No awesome for you.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.”

“Hey, I totally support you—as long as you’re not being a dumbass. Tell me he turned out to be a jerk or broke your tender heart and I’ll reinstate the awesome. I’ll even commiserate with you. I’ll be more supportive than an old-lady’s bra.”

Once again, Sara had her laughing. Nia wouldn’t have dreamed this possible six weeks ago. She had her friend back. The downside of that—Sara was relentless. Nia would have better luck evading Zeus while wearing a jacket made of bacon than wiggling out of a Sara interrogation. Might as well get it over with.

“He’s not a jerk. Just the opposite, he’s great.”

“I can see where that would be a problem. Good thing you cut him loose. Can’t have a great guy fucking up your résumé of loser boyfriends.”

“Nice, Sara. Nice.”

“Truth hurts, dude. You know why I’m nagging you? Because Conn’s obviously different than all those schmucks that came before. When you two were here at New Year’s, you didn’t put up with my shit. First time in forever you’ve given it back instead of silently taking it. Any guy who brings out that part of you instead of turning you into a clingy, spineless doormat, I say he’s all right.”

The insults held so much truth, Nia had to laugh. “You’re such a bitch. And you’re right, Conn is different.”

“Okay, that was fun, I admit,” Sara said. “But in all seriousness—which you know I resent the hell out of—why kick Conn to the curb when you just admitted he’s not in the same category as the rest?”

“I
fell in love
with him, Sara. I didn’t want to and I tried not to, but it happened.”

“Oh, the irony,” Sara said on a laugh.

“So glad my pain amuses you.”

“You know, there’s a reason it’s called
falling
in love, not floating in love or some other stupid, fluffy verb. You fall, you might get hurt. But hey, whatever. Stay single and play the field, it’s a lot more fun from where I’m standing.”

“You mean, in Mom and Dad’s house?”

Sara snorted. “Ha. Touché, loser. Speaking of, I’d better get back to my duties. They only take the shackles off if I meet my scrubbing quota for the day.”

Nia shook her head and rolled her eyes. She’d bet anything their parents were babying Sara more than anything. Surprisingly, it didn’t irritate Nia the way it once had.

“Thanks for calling. I appreciate it. Really.”

“Good. You should.” Classic Sara ego.

Nia wouldn’t want her sister—or her friend—any other way.

* * * * *

Conn sat at his mom’s kitchen table, turning a mug around in his palm. The room looked pretty much the same as it had his whole life. The color had changed over the years—mint green when he was a kid, burgundy during his middle-school years, canary yellow after that. Now it was a soft, earthy color. Mushroom, or something like that. Whatever it was called, it was warm and calm. Like his mother.

“You don’t like my coffee anymore?” His mother tucked her cell phone into her pocket and took the chair beside him.

He blinked and looked into his mug. Still full, not a drop missing.

She settled against the old hardback chair—one of the set that’d serviced this kitchen through all the colors—and raised an eyebrow at him. She wouldn’t push him, that wasn’t her way. Maggie Lawler had more patience than any person Conn had ever known. Even during the years when he, Curtis and Lindsay had to have driven her around the bend and back with their teenage drama and nonstop, three-way bickering. Conn couldn’t remember his mom raising her voice once. Not to anyone.

“I never saw you and Dad argue.”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “We kept our disagreements behind the closed bedroom door.”

“I remember that door being closed a lot when I was a kid.”

Her light laugh filled the room. “Well, we kept other personal business behind the closed door too.” She winked, picked up her mug and took a sip. “Have I scarred you for life, my boy?”

Grinning, he shook his head. “Nope. Kind of relieved, actually. Not that I need any more information in that area, it’s just good to know you and Dad…connected.”

“Of course we did. We had three beautiful children and over twenty years together.”

“But you weren’t happy for a good chunk of it at the end. You or Dad. We all knew it. For the last several years together, you seemed to be living completely separate lives, just doing it under the same roof.”

She leaned forward and cupped her hands over his, stilling them on the mug. “We were never unhappy together, don’t think that. Your dad and I were eighteen years old, fresh out of high school, when we got married. Lindsay was born less than a year later. We’d become a family of five before we’d reached our mid-twenties. And it was wonderful. I wouldn’t change a thing, neither would your dad. But as we matured, we grew in different directions.”

“And you delayed the breakup to stay together for the kids.”

“No, we stayed together for us. We’d spent our entire adult lives together, we weren’t ready to let each other go. Then one day, we were. Gracefully, with only good wishes for the other person.” She patted his hand then sat back, a contented smile on her face. “I’d call that a successful relationship, even if it didn’t see us through our golden years.”

When he looked at it from that perspective, he had to agree. “Thanks.”

“Does that help with whatever has you distracted to the point of wasting my excellent coffee?”

“Yeah, it does.” Too bad he couldn’t get her to repeat that story to Nia. Though with the walls Nia had up, words wouldn’t be enough. Conn needed something bigger to break them down. Permanently, this time. “Speaking of help, I need a favor—and depending on how things go, it might be a big one.”

* * * * *

If the weather report was correct, Nia had shoveling to do. A couple of inches had accumulated by the time she got home from work the night before. Nothing she couldn’t easily drive through at the time. According to the weather app on her cell, the white stuff had continued long after she burrowed under the covers.

Shoveling meant spending a good chunk of time out front. She might see Conn, a possibility that kicked her heart rate up several notches. Not unlike the effect of watching a scary movie. Or a romantic one. Seeing Conn would be a bit of both.

Assuming she saw him at all. He might opt to steer clear of her craziness. If so, she didn’t blame him.

She pulled on a pair of wooly socks, jeans and a sweater. A quick stop in the bathroom to scrub her face, brush her teeth and pull her hair into a ponytail and she was ready to face the snow. Because the snow cared how she looked and if her breath was minty fresh. Uh-huh.

She cut through the living room, headed for the kitchen and some necessary caffeine. First, some daylight. Her heart did a little dance as she opened the blinds covering the window by the sink. Conn’s truck was parked in the driveway, covered with several inches of snow.

She’d spent the past few days writing screenplays in her head. How they’d bump into one another. What he’d say, what she’d say. Sometimes the imaginary scenes ended in an angry exchange of words. The better scenes ended with Conn kissing her while whispering promises of love and orgasms. Reality was bound to be less dramatic.

She was good with that. Finally. No more ridiculous, fairytale-esque expectations. They’d already cost her years of her adult dating life. Sara had often accused Nia of being too mature, but the opposite was true. Nia was the one who needed to grow up. To accept that no man was going to walk into her life, sweep her off her feet and whisk her off to forever-after land. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy. Focus on now, enjoy what she had…if she could get him back.

She moved to the back door and opened the mini-blinds covering the long, glass panel. A note written in black marker stared her in the face.

These were for you. They still are, no matter what you choose to do with them. C.

The table Conn had made for her sat below the note, and on top of it, the ice skates. A large, clear plastic bag covered the items. No footprints dotted the snow on her deck. He’d obviously brought the stuff over in the wee hours, while it had still been snowing. Probably because he hadn’t wanted to chance seeing her. Reality certainly was bitch.

She unlocked the door and grabbed hold of the tabletop. Holy crap, it weighed a ton for something less than two feet in diameter and barely knee high. She muscled the thing into her kitchen, pulled off the plastic and set the skates aside. The circumstances sucked, but she was happy to have the table. She’d told Conn the truth when she’d said she would love to have the table he’d made for a client.

This one was so much better—because he’d made it especially for her. He’d made it small because he knew her living room was tiny. Stained it pale pink because he knew she loved girly-girl things. The legs he’d chosen fit that description too. Some sort of metal, twisted and twined in a way that gave them a delicate look, despite their obvious strength.

A ball formed in her throat. She settled on the floor beside his beautiful gift, running her palms along the edge as she willed her tears to retreat. On one side, her fingertips connected with a cluster of unnatural grooves. She turned the table until the area came into view.

Oh god. She hadn’t seen the carving the other night. Valentine’s night. On the most romantic night of the year, he’d given her this beautiful thing he’d made, complete with a small heart carved into one side. And not just a heart. A heart with an inscription—their names, his plus hers. As if he’d carved it into the side of the tree itself in an old-fashioned declaration of affection. Of love, whether he spoke the word or not. Whether he committed to a long-term relationship or not.

She was quite possibly the biggest idiot on the face of the earth. That was going to change. Today.

* * * * *

Nia managed half a cup of coffee and three bites of cereal before the urge—no, the need—to get outside consumed her. She donned her coat and boots, then her mittens and hat. Not the warmest set she had, but definitely the cutest. If Conn happened to sneak a peek out his window, she’d look good. Maybe that would be enough to lure him outside. Though exactly what she’d say to him if the opportunity arose, she had no idea. For once, she wasn’t going to overthink things or try to control the moment before it happened. She’d wing it and hope for the best.

She grabbed her shovel from its position against her back wall. Brilliant sunshine lit a clear, blue sky. The snow was about ankle deep, of the light, powdery variety. She kicked it as she hopped off the deck, smiling as it swirled around her, creating sparkly puffs in the air before resettling on the ground. Sort of like being in a snow globe.

She plunked the shovel down as noisily as possible and began her first pass down the driveway. Halfway to the sidewalk, Conn’s porch entered her peripheral vision. Then his front yard, and on it, a sign that almost brought those three bites of cereal up from her stomach.

The shovel rattled on the ground behind her. She was up his steps and pounding on his door in the time it took to blink. She raised her knuckles for another round of rapping as Conn’s inside door opened.

He filled the space behind the glass storm door. White Henley shirt, jeans, wide shoulders, broad chest, dark hair, amazing blue-gray eyes. She catalogued every inch of him as if were the last time she’d see him.

“Why the hell is there a ‘for sale’ sign in front of your house?” she asked as he opened the door. “Is that sign because of me? You’re moving to get away from me?”

“No—”

“Running away is my thing, not yours.”

“I’m—”

“And I know I’ve been irrational and unpredictable. Maybe a little bit crazy. But selling your house?” She threw her arms up. “You’re in the process of making this house amazing. You love this house.” She pointed at the big, brown head poking out the door beside Conn’s leg. “Zeus loves this house.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘but.’ Get out here and take that sign down. We’ll go back to being polite neighbors who wave but don’t interact. I will not be the reason you move.” Her commanding stomp drew a friendly
woof
from Zeus and silent stare from Conn.

He stepped outside and let the door clap closed behind him. “Done yet?”

“Probably not. But you can have a short turn while I reload.”

He grinned. That too-charming-to-be-legal grin that made her want to giggle like a schoolgirl, then throw herself at him and melt inside the safety of his embrace. Only that wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

“Yes, that sign is there because of you.” He stepped into her space, leaving only a few inches between them. “Yes, if I move, you’ll be the reason.” He caught her hands and brought her knuckles to his lips. “But not to get away from you. To get closer.” He released her hands and cupped her jaw, brushing his thumbs over her skin so, so tenderly. “I love this house, yeah, but it’s just a place. I’d rather give it up than lose my chance with you. I can’t guarantee forever, sweetheart, but I sure as hell want to give it a shot.”

“Oh my god, Conn…” Her heart jumped out of her chest, it seemed. It lodged in her throat, turning her voice to a scratchy whisper. “You would do that? Why?”

“Because you’re not perfect and I still want to be with you. With my history, I figure that has to count for something.”

She pushed halfheartedly at his chest. “Jerk.”

“You really need me to say it?”

She snuggled against his warm, hard body and smiled up at him. “I did warn you that I’m a sappy girly-girl.”

“So you did.” He wrapped his arms around her, dipped down and sealed his lips over hers for a soft, lingering kiss that left her breathless when he pulled back. “I fell hard too. I love you. Say yes. Be my girl, not the girl next door.”

She squeaked. If he wasn’t holding on to her, she’d probably bounce right off his porch and land headfirst in a snowbank. Just when she’d decided to give up on the fairytale, her white knight had swept her off her feet. As he’d done from the first time she said yes to him.