Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (11 page)

Lots of laughter, lots of joking, and lots of him looking at my mouth. I would tell him to stop, but I find it entertaining. And sexy. It makes
me
feel sexy.

So, I let him stare.

After about five more minutes of pondering my new-found friendship, I get dressed and head over to the Morgan’s. After pulling into the driveway, I get out of my car and pray that it doesn’t leak oil onto their nice driveway. I really need to look into getting something else. This thing is older than I am and even more unreliable.

Ducking my head under my car, I clear the hair from my eyes and watch for a couple of seconds. Nope, looks okay. I rise back up, whip my hair back over my head, and then smooth my t-shirt down over my tummy, pulling it past the pockets of my jean shorts. I might not have the nicest clothes, but I try to at least look somewhat presentable when I come over here.

Walking up to the door, I laugh as I always do at the “Beware, Dog Can’t Hold Its Licker” mat lying on the porch. Placing my hand on the knob, I open the door slowly, because I never really know what or who is sitting in front of it. Poking my head around the side, I make sure it’s clear and then enter. Since they expect me on Saturdays, I rarely bother with knocking.

Soon after I enter the house, I’m mauled by their Golden Retriever, Cooper-- my face assaulted with doggie sugars. I smile and giggle as he attacks, and after I’m positive my face is licked clean, I set his paws on the ground and pat him gently on the head.

Hearing laughter from the kitchen, followed by the contagious giggles of the girls, I tiptoe towards the commotion with my hand concealing my grin. As I get closer, I see Alex and Harlow both sitting at the kitchen table, their backs to me, with Rylie, the five-year old hellion, and Kyndall, the sweetest eight-year old I’ve ever known, sitting right across from them. As soon as they see me, I hold my finger over my lips, signaling for them to keep my entrance a secret. Leaning back against the wall, I watch Rylie’s dimples collapse into her cheeks as she tries not to laugh, her long, messy spirals falling over her shoulders. Breaking eye contact with me, she attempts to maintain her semi-straight face as she leans her tiny body all the way across the table to apply eye shadow to Alex’s lids. “There you go, Mommy. You look absolutely beautiful! Purple is
your
color!” Her huge brown eyes twinkle with joy while she appraises her masterpiece.

Kyndall’s blue-grey eyes move from her mother’s to mine. She widens them at me, obviously not in agreement with her baby sister, and then looks down to swipe her own applicator across the shadow pallet. “Green is your color, Harlow. It matches your eyes.” She applies the neon green to Harlow’s lids. “There you go, all done. You can look at each other now.” She sits back in her chair, patiently awaiting their reaction.

Still standing behind them, I watch them turn to each other and then once again cover my mouth as they break out into typical Alex and Harlow snort-filled laughter.

“Mommy,” Rylie crosses her arms as her eyebrows come together in frustration, “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” She redirects her attention to Harlow as her face relaxes itself into a mischievous grin. “You
do
look much better than Harlow, though. So it’s okay if you laugh at her.” Insulted, Kyndall gasps out loud and the look on her face breaks my silence.

My laughter increases ten-fold when Alex and Harlow twist in their chairs, surprised by my sudden appearance. The raised eyebrows, electric eye shadow colors, blush red cheeks — literally, and fluorescent pink lipstick is too much for me to take. I double over with laughter while everyone joins in with me. Rising back up, I push myself off the wall, wiping the corners of my eyes as Nycole, Alex’s oldest at ten-years old, enters the kitchen.

“Ya’ll are
weird
,” she says without a second thought as she walks toward the refrigerator, which makes me giggle again. I continue smiling as I watch her, amazed at how much she resembles a twenty-year old woman. With her dark curls now reaching her lower back, her tan skin mixed with her light brown eyes, she’s absolutely gorgeous.

“
You’re
weird, Nyc. Always talking about boys with your friends.” Kyndall stands and holds her thumb to her ear with her pinky at her mouth. “
Oh, Trevor. He’s soooooo cute. Do you think he likes me?
” she mimics. She’s actually pretty good. I was privy to that conversation last week.

I glance over at Alex and Harlow, who are trying unsuccessfully to straighten their faces.

“Yeah, Nyc. Boys have stinky feet and cooties. So,
you’re
weird.” Rylie chimes in, demonstrating her unwavering support.

“Okay! Okay! Settle down, girls.” Alex stands up, pulling the hair band off her wrist to put her long, dark hair in a ponytail. “No one is
weird
in this family.” She looks at Harlow while pushing her chair back under the table and smiles. “Except Harlow. She’s definitely
weird
.”

“But she looks pretty!” Kyndall adds, putting her make-up back in its Barbie make-up case.

“Yes, I’m sure she looks as beautiful as I do,” Alex adds with a laugh. Quickly, she snakes out her arm, snagging Nycole’s shoulder as she attempts to pass by and pulls her daughter into a tight embrace while placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. I stifle another grin when Nyc rolls her eyes, but she soon relaxes into her mother’s arms, her slight smile almost hidden by her hair. The tenderness of the moment warms my heart.

Family.

Moments like this, they’re the reason why I come over here every chance I get. They temporarily soothe my soul.

Around the corner, heavy boots stomp down the stairs accompanied by Blake’s deep booming voice. “Girls! Your rooms didn’t even come close to passing inspection. Throwing everything in the closet or under the bed does
not
count as clean.” Holding the baby in his arms, he turns into the kitchen, only to skid to a standstill when he sees Alex. His light brown hair is messy as its edges curl away from the sides of his face and barely poke out from behind his ears, his olive green eyes beaming with laughter. Humor radiating from her own eyes, Alex glances upward to meet his stare as he towers above her tiny little body, showing no fear as she dares him to say something. He chuckles under his breath and then directs his attention to the girls. “No one’s playing with Tatum until chores are done.”

Rylie’s chair screeches across the hard wood floor and she takes off running. “I’ll be right back, Tatum! Don’t go anywhere!” she yells breathlessly as she passes by, heading up the stairs.

The other girls quickly follow suit, leaving me alone with the adults in the kitchen. Well, quasi-adults I’m reminded as I hear the snorts of Alex and Harlow by the stove. I turn to investigate, but my eyes don’t make it that far because I find myself temporarily preoccupied by Blake, or the look on his face rather. With his eyes full of tenderness while wearing an adoring grin, he’s clearly captivated by his wife as she giggles with her best friend.

My throat tightens as I reminisce, thinking about my morning with Cash and about how moments like this just don’t exist in our relationship, which leads my train of thought to Noah and his worries about my settling. I swallow my tears.

Noah.

Making eye contact with Blake during my thoughts, I glare at him from between my lashes, remembering that I have a bone to pick with him.

“So, Blake,” I place my hand on my left hip. “When exactly were you planning on telling me that Noah falls underneath your direct employment at your duplexes?” I give him a smirk.

I hear the quick swish of Alex and Harlow turning to listen in on our conversation, but my eyes remain on Blake. When he gives me no answer, I raise my left eyebrow, which results in a chuckle as he places his coffee on the kitchen table. Sitting in the seat previously occupied by Rylie, he looks back at me, while wearing a crooked grin. He raises his right eyebrow and counters my snarkiness, breaking eye contact with me to speak in baby talk to the handsome man he’s now bouncing up and down in his lap. I forgot how much J.D. looks like Blake.

“Well,” he coos, “I didn’t think you held any interest in
Noah Reese
, Tatum. So why would I think to tell you that he was working for me at ‘The Place’?”

Snickers galore from behind me.

Mouth pinched, I turn to glare in the direction of the women behind me, but once I take in their clown-like appearance, the fact that they are now less than two feet away from me — obviously caught up in their eavesdropping, and Alex’s “When I was a kid, no wait, I still do that” t-shirt, my smile won’t contain itself no matter how hard I try.

“You guys are ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head in disapproval.

Harlow’s reddish curls bounce while she giggles and I watch as she elbows Alex in the side, prompting her interrogation.

“
So
,” Alex begins, “What
is
up with you and Noah? I hear he almost decapitated Cash the other night.”

“Nothing’s up with me and Noah, ladies, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s with Ryder, and I’m
still
with Cash.” When both their mouths hit the floor, I offer, “He was actually pretty understanding, seeing as though I vandalized his truck based on the misconstrued notion that he was cheating on me with his
cousin
.”

Their mouths snap shut just before they trade wide-eyed glances, but I’m thankful for the lack of commentary on the issue. It’s embarrassing enough even saying it out loud.

Blake clears his throat from the table, pulling all of our attention in his direction. “Plus,
Alex
,” his tone full of warning, “He’s heading to Boston at the end of the summer. So…”

“Boston? Why? What’s in Boston?” I ask, purely out of curiosity and for no other reason. At all.

“Harvard. He was accepted to med school back in the spring and Trace just confirmed he was leaving mid-August. I hate to lose him as part of my crew. He shows a lot of promise.” Blake says while slowing shaking his head, warning Alex not to push the subject as the baby grabs and pulls his lower lip.

I sit down at the bar, partly out of shock, but mainly so I can stop turning my head back and forth between the two. My neck’s starting to cramp.

Alex scowls back at Blake and his warning, and then dismissively shrugs her shoulders. “Well, there’s no reason you guys can’t be friends anyway. There’s nothing
wrong with that
,” she emphasizes the last part while looking at her husband.

Bringing her purple-lidded brown eyes to mine she adds, “Plus, I happen to know from experience, that right when you think you have everything in place and in order, something or
someone
comes along and blows it all to smithereens, the pieces landing in a way that they construct a brand new path — one that you never imagined you would travel. Life is funny that way.”

She walks over and places her hand on my shoulder. “Something tells me that
you
, my dear, are a walking tsunami. But,” she holds my eyes with hers, “I also think you happen to be
exactly
what he needs.”

She gives me a light squeeze before heading over to Blake, where he lectures her about involving her “gut feelings” in other people’s lives. I don’t know how he can manage to lecture her without laughing at the state of her face, but something tells me he has a lot of practice with this sort of thing.

Hearing a high-pitched scream and a lot of scuffling from upstairs, Harlow quickly heads out of the kitchen, but not before giving me a wink accompanied by a not so subtle smile and a giggle.

In her absence, I find myself alone at the bar as I think.

So, Mr. Perfect is leaving mid-August to attend his perfect med school. Then, upon graduation, I’m sure he’ll marry another one of his perfect blonde bombshells and have perfectly beautiful children while managing his perfect practice. He’s obviously destined for a life of perfection.

Jesus. How perfectly
boring
.

I twist my dark hair around my finger, suddenly feeling sorry for him.

While I don’t believe I’m his life-altering wave of mass destruction, I do think that if I’m going to be forced to spend the days with him at the duplexes and some nights with him at the bar, I might as well help him have some fun before he starts his perfect venture. Plus, I agree with Alex. There’s nothing wrong with being
friends
.

I glance down at the writing on my t-shirt. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was a sign.

Laughing, the words “Perfection is Over-Rated” bring a genuine smile to my face…

And a mission to my mind.

Noah Reese is going to learn how to have
fun
this summer.