Almost Ordinary (The Song Wreckers Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter 13

All in all, the visit to see my dad went well. Not a single ounce of bitterness, anger, or immaturity spewed forth like it had after he first contacted me over a year ago. Somehow, I healed those wounds.

Dumping some emotional baggage felt great. I dropped Franny off at home then drove home to my husband. Caleb met me outside, blocking the Jeep from pulling into the garage. I knew by talking on the phone with him that he missed the boys like crazy. I put my Jeep in park. He opened my door and I threw myself into his arms.

“I missed you,” I said with my face smothered in his neck.

“I missed you, too.” He kissed me quick then released me. He hoisted the boys’ cars eats out and said, “Follow me.”

He pressed the clicker in his hand and watched my face as I watched the garage door open. A brand new minivan sat in my usual spot, black, Caleb’s vehicle color of choice, and shiny.

A smile played on his lips. “I bought you something.”

“I see that.” I stared, surprised. With all he had going on and the fact that I’ve been doing something he hated—making sure Cooper survived in spite of himself—he did something this thoughtful for me.

“Do you like it? If not we have forty-eight hours to exchange it. I wasn’t sure if you’d rather have this or an SUV.” A car seat in each hand, he waited for my response.

“A push present!” In the excitement of the moment I forgot all about the trip tiring me out. I ran to the driver’s side door and tugged, but it was locked, making my momentum work against me. I bounced off the door and fell on my ass.
Then
Caleb pressed the button to unlock it for me. I stumbled up and dusted myself off, then climbed in.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see that,” he said, trying not to laugh. “A what present?”

“Don’t ask. And I’ll pretend you helped me up, ass wipe,” I joked. I knew he would’ve had his hands not been full.

“First of all, you have to stop cussing one of these days. Second, today’s woman doesn’t need a man to help her off her feet, right?”

“Wrong. I think you need to stop reading
Cosmo
.” Oh yes, my husband reads
Cosmo
. I teased him so much about it that he had his subscription transferred to my name when his annual renewal came up. I rubbed the van. “I can’t believe you did this!” (Which is also what I said when I received the first issue with my name on it.) I ran my hand over everything inside, checking out everything that came equipped with it.

“That little Jeep of yours was no good anymore. We barely squeezed everything you needed for the trip to BG in there.”

“Man, does it come with
everything?
” There was an in dash GPS with touch screen, leather heated seats, pull down DVD players, and God knows what else.

“Fully loaded. So?” He waited for my approval.

“It’s perfect, thank you!” I rubbed my hands over every surface. I totally felt it up, almost as good as I did Caleb. “So, give me the lowdown on 3D. Anything happen in the four days I was gone?”

Caleb now dealt with administrative and managerial duties at 3D, and the occasional investigation when someone needed help or a second set of eyes. He claimed he didn’t miss the body guarding gigs, but I could tell working inside an office all day irritated him. Since Cooper stayed consumed with opening the new branch in Tampa, and even planning trips there, Caleb spent the bulk of his day behind a desk.

He grunted. “Paperwork and more paperwork. Cooper was being Cooper. Hard-assed, demanding, and still pissed that he’s not a hundred percent. Doing a better job following his medication chart, I think, but still working too hard. He really needs someone to kick him in the ass when he needs it.”

Did he just give me his permission to keep an eye on Cooper? Maybe the new van wasn’t a push present, but a kind of peace offering. Like,
I’m sorry for what we’ve been going through, I trust you, let’s move on
. I could live with that.

Caleb raised his eyebrows. “How long you gonna grope that thing?”

“As long as it’ll let me.”

“Glad to hear your dad’s going to be all right.” He took my hand. “Princess, let’s give the van some breathing room.”

I looked one last time at my new toy. “He’s got a while until he’s fully recovered. Joy will take good care of him. I’m not worried.”

We walked inside the house. “I can’t wait to meet him,” Caleb said.

I nodded. “He said the same about you. I promised him a visit as soon as we could. He really wants to see Zander and Alex again. Joy too.”

Yup, my dad and Joy were sucked into the twins’ baby charms just like everyone else. Except my mom.

The months passed.

My life fell into a rhythm. Sometimes the rhythm involved lots of instruments, and I had a hard time keeping up with them all. Basically, I resembled every other mom on the planet.

Amongst the craziness Caleb and I had a much needed distraction by way of my dancer friend, Alan. He relocated to Las Vegas for a job as the assistant choreographer to Shark Slickman—I know, right?—and invited us to the premier of Shark’s new show. We cleared our schedules for two days, grabbed Char and Caleb’s sister Candice, and flew to Sin City with the boys.

Besides getting to see a Vegas show that my oldest friend helped choreograph, Caleb and I renewed our vows since we’d been married almost nine months, and I now have wedding pictures without a huge, pregnant belly. I wore capris and a cute tank top, and our kids were in the pictures, but at least Char saw us get married this time. Our original wedding took place at the courthouse with no family or friends present. In fact, I didn’t even meet Char until I was seven months pregnant, after we married.

That’s right, daughter-in-law of the century right here, baby.

The Vegas heat sucked the pleasure out of any outdoor activity, and it wasn’t a great place to travel with kids, but we thoroughly enjoyed honeymoon suite hotel sex, which we used as a belated birthday gift to ourselves. That made up for any inconveniences.

Caleb’s workload never let up like I’d hoped. We adjusted by increasing Franny’s hours and that helped a lot. We always made sure that every day had time slated for the four of us to hang out as a family. No working.

I’d decided at the end of summer that Cooper could fend for himself. He didn’t need me as a caregiver, and I didn’t want the tension that him being in the forefront of my mind caused. Caleb eased up in regards to discussing Cooper. I could mention his name without making the vein pop out of his neck, and sometimes I sensed that Caleb might be concerned about Cooper’s health too. I didn’t want to try and pry these feelings out of him. If Cooper needed help, Caleb would let me know. Probably.

And anyway, I was too busy. Every minute spent with Cooper was a minute wasted. I never asked the questions I’d wanted to. What could I say? It didn’t seem appropriate to bombard him during his recovery. An honestly, I chickened out. What if stirring the pot became the catalyst of something bad for us? Whatever, I still had time. Cooper added nothing positive to my life. He made his contribution then left a long time ago, so I did too.

The Song Wreckers went on maternity leave for the third time—the first time when Courtney and Josh had their daughter, the second time for me—in September when Katie hit five months along in her pregnancy. I loved being a Song Wrecker, but this break was a welcome one. Char enjoyed babysitting the twins during Wreckers Weekends, so she agreed to keep babysitting them once a month so Caleb and I could enjoy date nights. I learned things during date nights—sushi was gross, museums were boring if you’d already been there once, and that baby spit up you didn’t notice? It fluoresces if the black light in a club was strong enough, and you could totally tell it was spit up.

I found myself both wishing for my mom to reach out to me, and irritated by her lackadaisical effort of pretending she cared about my life. I had Mama, Char was wonderful, and I couldn’t imagine life without them both. They weren’t my mom, though. The occasional talks I had with my mom annoyed me more than anything. But I‘d keep trying.

My dad on the other hand, turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Joy too. The thought of losing him made me realize I was ready to forgive and have him in my life, and I think he realized he had a daughter and grandkids and a lot of time to make up for. When he tried to start mending our relationship a couple years ago, I wasn’t enthusiastic about it and he didn’t push too hard. Now, he pushed.

He and Joy visited when they could and called in between visits. I added their email address to the group I sent updated pictures of the boys to. They even came to the last Wreckers Weekend before our maternity break. He pretended to like music about getting drunk, ass shaking, man bashing, and gold digging, but the look on his face screamed
Oh my God, she’s going to hell!

Through the summer and into the fall, Gina Swinger rode the billboard charts. Her popularity never reached Newest Boy Band proportions, which meant people weren’t sick of her. She remained steady. Everyone knew her name, yet no tabloid splattered her face on their cover.

Writing Gina’s second album proved difficult and challenging, but I loved it. Kent told me they aimed for early next year to start recording, so I wasn’t worried about not finishing, and I’d made decent progress so far. I had good ideas and made great music, but struggled to make it appropriate for Gina and who she represented: A young woman with new experiences and moderate success in the music industry, but a lot yet to learn. Not that long ago I was like her. We differed in that I’d been through hell and aged ten years in the last three. It wasn’t until the October leaves turned colors and I craved everything pumpkin flavored that I knew I’d made the right decision to beg for this opportunity. But still, the pressure mounted heavier on my shoulders this time around. I found my first grey hairs.

Not. Cool.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Katie discovered them instead of Caleb. I was sitting next to the boys, wiping dinner off their faces while he cleared the table. Next thing I knew he started combing his fingers through my hair.

“What are you doing, checking for lice?” I asked.

“I thought you had loose threads on your head. It’s gray hair.”

I screeched like scaredy-cat running from a scary ass bug and shoved his hands off me, then ran upstairs and searched through my hair with the precision of a doctor performing an operation. There were like, fifteen or twenty of those bad boys! How did I not notice this? I whined to Katie later on the phone. She laughed and called me Skunky.

I hated her. Plus, she turned out to be one of those women who glowed when they were pregnant. I was the opposite, I fizzled. She’s always been a curvy woman and wore her curves well. With the added weight she went from
va-va-va-voom
to
va-va-va-WOW
! She was beautiful whereas I had resembled a beached whale.

She and Brett decided not to find out the sex of their baby. It drove me nuts. I begged her to find out. “We want to be surprised,” she twanged.

“But I hate surprises,” I reminded her. She didn’t care, just acted like I didn’t have a say in their baby. Whatever.

With The Creep gone, Cooper nothing more than a passing thought, the approaching holidays, and the joy of watching Alex and Zander grow, I arrived at that elusive destination where I was able to make everything work as it should—my marriage, my career, my friends, my life.

Finally.

Chapter 14

“Princess, you okay?”

I moaned. “Too much food. You?”

Caleb burped. “Ditto.”

“Dad, Joy, would you like anything else?”

As if in a food coma, they shook their heads.

My dad’s health continued to improve so he and Joy joined us at Char’s for Thanksgiving dinner. They blended right into the craziness that large family get-togethers caused. This was the way I’d always dreamed of spending holidays. I felt like my gut might bust out of my pants from eating too much, but I was happy. Adam drama no longer interrupted our lives, and I’d never worry again about him hurting anyone else. Being part of a big family, having my dad with me . . . oh shit. My eyes started to water. I excused myself and went to the bathroom until I was sure tears weren’t going to leak.

I stepped out of the upstairs bathroom—the half bath downstairs was occupied by a three-year-old—and leaned against the balcony. Looking at this group of people,
my
family, it was odd that I fit in here. Good odd. I didn’t have all this big, happy, craziness growing up. A couple of years ago I cursed my dad for leaving me. He’d never integrated me into his side of the family. Now? I could give my own kids what I had missed. Alex and Zander would never experience the parent issues that plagued me most of my life.

Cooper must not have family to be a part of. That was my theory, anyway. It fit with why he was able to abandon me and his children. He didn’t understand the importance of people who loved you unconditionally, looked out for you, teased you, and—as Caleb’s brother Carter was doing to Caleb—flicked your ears. I rolled my eyes at their maturity level, and smiled at one of my nieces trying to coax the boys into walking.

My smile faded. Why had my thoughts wandered to Cooper?

I joined the crowd in the living room where, like last year, an argument heated up over football. My dad and Joy held the boys in the kitchen, talking with Char. I inched my way toward the argument—could the Lions clean up their act and save the season?—to see how close it was to becoming physical. And like last year, two of Caleb’s brothers-in-law used words instead of fists to resolve their spat. Bummer.

I offered to take the boys from Joy and my dad. They told me no. I found Caleb who was done horsing around with Carter, but deep in discussion about cars and their engines. Yuck.

In the kitchen, I found plastic containers and lids, the kind that most people had so much of they didn’t care if some went missing. I opened the refrigerator and took out some turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. I arranged the food into the containers, snapped the lids on and put everything into the fridge. Then I made a mental note to not forget to bring the food home.

When it was time to go I slipped the food containers into the diaper bag. I didn’t tell Caleb my plan on the way home. For one, my dad and Joy were in the van with us, and this conversation demanded privacy. Especially since Caleb and I might fight over it.

Caleb drove the van into the garage. “Phil, Joy, can I offer you anything else to eat or drink?”

My dad put his hand on his belly and moaned.

Joy answered, “Oh, no thanks. I think we’re still full. I’m getting tired, so we’ll say our good-byes and head home.”

As soon as they left our sight, I told Caleb, “I made a plate to take to Cooper.”

He brought Alex into the house. I followed with Zander. He tossed the diaper bag on the kitchen floor before settling in the family room. I stayed right behind him.

I set Zander on the floor. “I’m going to drive to his condo, drop off the food, and be right home.”

He set Alex next to Zander then turned to me. He didn’t say a word.

I felt sorry for Cooper. I knew what it felt like to not have a family to be with for a holiday. I wasn’t trying to reach out to him, but it was Thanksgiving. I was an odd sort of thankful to him.

He waved me off, trying to seem like he didn’t care. I saw his face tighten.

I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him. “I love you. I’ll be home in an hour or so.”

It was cold, but without snow and hardly any traffic the drive took less time than usual. God, guilt waves crashed into me, along with the angel on one shoulder and devil on the other. The devil reminded me I had left my husband and kids on a holiday when family should be together, to see someone who didn’t deserve my kindness. That devil, she was one tough bitch. The angel reminded me that Cooper, asshole that he may be, was the reason two little boys called me Mom. To keep myself from focusing on my guilt, I called Katie to see how her Thanksgiving went. She ate tons of food. She was happy.

I jogged up Cooper’s porch and banged on the door with my knee since it both hands held all the food.

No answer. I kicked with my foot to be louder. “Cooper!” I yelled. “It’s Molly, let me in!”

“Hold on!” he barked.

He opened the door and I pushed past him. I waited for him to take some of the food from me, he didn’t. His hands were full of garbage, like he’d tried to tidy up as soon as he heard me knock.

I ignored that his place looked like shit. “Hey,” I greeted. He said nothing, so I made my way to his kitchen. “So I brought you Thanksgiving dinner, okay?”

He followed me. “Why?”

“Because I figured no one else would. Sit down, I’ll warm it up for you.” He didn’t sit so I gave him a light push toward a chair. He stumbled a bit.

I set the food down and focused on him. He’d lost some weight, enough to make his cheekbones stand out a smidgen more. He was unshaven and his hair stuck out every which way, which alone wouldn’t be a big deal. When I added that to the bags under his eyes, eyes that wouldn’t meet mine, and lips pressed in a hard line, it caused alarm bells to ring in my head.

“Sit,” I demanded again. He did.

I warmed up the food determined to make him eat like a normal person, using a plate and silverware, sitting at his kitchen table with someone across from him. I wondered when the last time he ate with a level of civility had been. He didn’t make a move to eat when I set his plate of food in front of him, so I gave him my best
Don’t fuck with me, I left my family to do this for you
look. He picked up the fork and took a bite.

“You look like total hell,” I told him.

He froze until I waved for him to continue.

Something seemed off. What? “You feeling okay?”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

I leaned a hip against the table, arms crossed over my chest, assessing his condo. He must’ve cancelled Merry Maids. The large space was messy, but nothing that couldn’t be attributed to a typical bachelor. “I have to use the restroom. Give me a minute.”

I shut the bathroom door. Rummaging through his medicine cabinet, I found deodorant, extra razors, condoms and a Vicodin bottle with a recent date.

I carried the bottle to the kitchen. “What in the hell are you still taking Vicodin for?”

He swallowed his bite. “Adam shot me, remember?”

“Six months ago.”

“Yeah, well, that bullet tore my leg up. It didn’t heal right or something.”

I slammed the pill bottle on the counter. “Cooper. It didn’t heal right because you didn’t let it. You did too much, too soon.”

He shrugged again. “Don’t you shrug at me. I’m right, aren’t I? I’ll bet your doctor told you the same thing.”

No answer. He chewed his food and scowled at me between bites. I waited for him to clear his plate, then snatched it and loaded it in the dishwasher. I hadn’t gotten him a drink, and though he didn’t deserve to have me serving him, I opened the refrigerator to grab him a bottle of water.

Let’s see
, no water, a half loaf of bread, lunch meat and some condiments. A few take-out containers. I reached in and took out several drink options: scotch, whiskey, beer. I slammed the door shut.

“You’re mixing alcohol with pills? What the hell, Cooper?”

He used his hands to push himself to stand. “Listen up, you’re not my keeper.”

I stepped close to point my finger in his face. “You’re right, I’m not your keeper. What I am is someone who needs you healthy.”

He crossed his arms over his chest to create a smidgen more distance between us. “What the hell do you care?”

I threw my head back in frustration, then glared at him again. “Don’t you get it, you moron? When you’re a mess you can’t focus on your job like you should. When you can’t focus on your job, Caleb picks up the slack on top of everything else he has to do. The more slack he picks up for you, the less time he has for his family, and the time he does have is spent stressing out. Then I start freaking out, thinking he’s miserable!”

“So I can’t be a ‘mess’,” he air quoted, “because it makes your life difficult?”

“Yes!”

He tried to respond, I cut him off. “You owe me that much.”

He limped past me. “Thanks for the dinner. Goodbye, Molly.” He plopped on the couch, picked up the remote and flipped through channels.

I stormed straight to the door. “Happy fucking Thanksgiving, Cooper,” I mumbled on my way out.

Anger burned through me the entire drive home. I refused to let tears fall. He wasn’t worth it. Once in the garage, I slammed the van door shut and slumped against it for a minute so I’d calm down.

Still upset, I ran right past Caleb and into the half bath as my stomach gave the telltale heave that signaled I was about to throw up. So long Thanksgiving dinner.

I cupped water into my mouth to rinse it. Leaning over the sink, I told Caleb about Cooper mixing pills and booze.

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s his problem. Not ours. Not yours.”

“It is
our
problem, Caleb.”

He shook his head and pointed toward the toilet. “You’re making yourself sick over this.”

“I know, just—”

“No. You are not going to use this to finagle your way into his life.”

I plopped down onto a chair. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. I was so wrong when I thought he’d be okay with me keeping an eye on Cooper.

“Then what are you doing?” he asked.

I tugged his arm until he sat. “I know he doesn’t deserve our . . . kindness. But I can’t give up on him, even though he frustrates the living hell out of me. Most of me wants to beat the shit out of him, but then I remember he gave us Alex and Zander and took a bullet meant for you.” I turned to face Caleb and held his hands in mine. “You and the boys, the three people I love most in the world—don’t tell Katie I said that—are here, still here, because of him. How can I let him rot away?”

I kissed him lightly on the lips and walked away, confident that if I gave him some space he’d think about the situation and understand we should both be concerned.

I woke the next morning alone, spread out in the middle of the bed. The baby monitor was silent and I didn’t hear the kids downstairs. Clunking and sliding sounds came from down the hallway.

I rolled my head to the side to smell Caleb’s pillow. Mmmm. There was a fine line between giving someone space, and avoiding them because you’re afraid they were upset with you, and you didn’t want to face it. I wasn’t sure which side of the line I favored. I mean, Caleb and I were okay. He slept with an arm slung over me for the last half of the night. That meant something, right?

I tossed the covers off, used the bathroom, and tied my robe on. Then I followed the noises to the spare bedroom, determined to clear the air, where I heard Caleb lugging boxes out of the closet. Why would he need boxes?

Shit. No, no, no, no. For the love of God, please tell me he wasn’t doing what I feared. Not now!

Leaning against the doorway, I surveyed the mess he created. “Can we talk about this?”

He turned around and gave me a quick look, then kept grabbing boxes. “How are you feeling this morning? What’s there to talk about?”

On cue, my stomach gurgled. “I’m fine, just hungry.” I gauged for a moment as to whether or not he was upset with me. Didn’t seem like it so I answered his second question. “Well, for one, the boys are about to turn one. Maybe we should talk about this first. Do some planning. There’s no need to rush this.”

He didn’t even pause. “Today’s the day.”

“But . . . but . . .”

“But what, Princess? You knew this was coming.”

I moaned.

“What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is the boys will be walking soon and they already get into a lot. By the time Christmas comes, they’ll be worse. I’m going to spend the next month chasing them around, pulling all this stuff of their hands.”

Caleb stopped gathering boxes when I stepped next to him, and gathered me in his arms. Relief drained the tension from my body as we hugged longer than usual.

“Don’t be a scrooge,” he said. “It’s the day after Thanksgiving. That makes it the official start of Christmas season, so I gotta start today. I’ll be careful. Anything that’s dangerous to the boys will be up high, out of their reach.”

“I’m not a scrooge, I love Christmas! Just wait ‘til you see the amount of cookies I’m going to bake this year.” I shook my head, relieved that his enthusiasm at getting out all of the Christmas decorations trumped him being upset with me, yet frustrated at his insistence of having the house filled with extra crap for an entire month. “I’m going to make coffee.”

He grabbed my arm when I turned to leave. “This year is going to be epic.”

“Fantastic,” I said on my way out the door. What I meant was,
holy hell
.

I hoped Caleb would put off decorating for Christmas until, like, the week of. The day before would be even better. Because of everything going on I didn’t give Caleb’s over-the-top decorating more than a passing thought. My mistake. The man was holiday decorating possessed. Every. Freaking. Holiday. I swear, I found bits of fake spider webs well after Halloween. All the other holiday decorating paled in comparison to Christmas, though. Last year the house felt like Christmas freaking Wonderland. I hadn’t helped with anything because I was eight months pregnant.