Dirty Sexy Knitting (27 page)

In college, she’d picked up the hobby. For a brief time she’d had a roommate—two weeks into the semester the girl had moved to her sorority house—who had taught Marlys the rudiments. Over the years since, she’d made things here and there, mittens, a few purses. Once she’d even attempted a hat in a Fair Aisle motif. She’d never knitted for anyone but herself.

For this, she’d selected a yarn that was a softened black and silver combination, a choice matching Dean’s dark hair and light eyes. Her hand inside her bag again, she rummaged around. “The sleeves are done, but I’m having a little trouble with the rest. Could you help me bind off—”

“No!”

Marlys jumped, surprised by the sudden appearance of Nikki at her elbow and the vehemence in the woman’s voice. “What?”

“Um . . .” Juliet was beside her now as well, and she fingered the soft fabric of the almost-finished sweater. “This isn’t for Blackie, is it?”

“Are you nuts?” Marlys wrinkled her nose. “Can you imagine my dog standing still long enough for me to get him into a sweater?” Plus, though he could be a pain in the ass, her canine deserved
some
dignity.

“So.” Nikki spoke softer now. “This is for . . . for . . .”

Marlys glanced over her shoulder. It was a surprise for Dean. Because he’d been a surprise in her life, a surprise as soft and warm as the garment she’d made for him. Though she hoped it would last a lot longer than their doomed relationship.

“It
is
for Dean,” Nikki concluded, looking as if the idea made her sick to her stomach.

Marlys ignored the other woman’s distaste and clung stubbornly to her task. “Yes. And to finish it, I just need a little help binding off.”

Nikki’s gaze shifted to Juliet, and on to Cassandra. Then she shrugged. “I’m afraid we can’t let you do that.”

“What? I know you’re the mean one, but—”

“The mean one?” Nikki’s jaw dropped. Cassandra made a sound like a cough, though it was Juliet who flat-out laughed.

Nikki narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Am I the mean one?”

“Of course you’re the mean one,” Juliet said. Her finger moved around their little circle. “I’m beautiful, Cassandra’s talented, and you’re mean.”

The affront on Nikki’s face surprised a laugh out of Marlys. The other woman shot her a glance. “She’s meaner,” she said defensively, pointing.

Marlys laughed again. “I
am
meaner.” Then they all were laughing and she thought,
This is what it could be like
. She could have girlfriends, be part of a tribe, be part of this group with their sisterhood and their shared jokes and the sexy men in their lives.

But her sexy man was just the truth away from leaving her. Her fingers tightened on the sweater sleeve in her grasp and she looked down at it, blinking away stupid, useless tears. “Now,” she said. “About the sweater . . .”

“We can’t let you finish it.” Cassandra whisked it off the countertop and inspected her stitches. “But nice work.”

Marlys was half-flattered, half-frustrated. “I don’t get—”

“It’s the curse,” Nikki explained. “And just to show that I’m not all that mean, I’m going to be the one to tell you about it.”

“Yes,” Cassandra continued. “If you start making your boyfriend a sweater—”

“
I’m
the one who gets to tell,” Nikki protested. Then she turned to Marlys. “If you make your boyfriend a sweater, it’s common knowledge he’ll break up with you before you bind it off.”

Marlys blinked. “You don’t really believe that.” She looked around the small circle of women and had to change the tone of her voice. “You really believe that.”

Juliet shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Nikki didn’t attempt a sweater for Jay until she was wearing an engagement ring.”

“
Attempt
being the operative word,” the woman in question grumbled.

Cassandra reached out to pat her sister’s hand. “Next time you’ll get it right. Bring it into the shop tomorrow and we’ll frog it together.”

“Unravel it,” Juliet translated for Marlys.

She shrugged that information off. “The curse doesn’t apply to me. He’s not my boyfriend, so I can finish the sweater.”

Juliet’s eyebrows rose. “But you love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marlys muttered, impatient with the details. “But that’s all about to go away.”

“Um, why?” Nikki asked.

“Because . . .” She hesitated. “Because I . . .” The words stuck in her throat. It would be better to force them out, she thought. Get used to hearing them said aloud, get used to saying them aloud, because as soon as the damn sweater was finished she was going to tell Dean.
I slept with Pharmaceutical Phil the very afternoon I agreed to sleep with you.
“Last fall, I was worried about myself . . . or worried about Dean, or . . . Okay, I was worried about what would happen if there was an us and so I—”

“Angel.” Dean’s hand clamped onto her shoulder. “Don’t.”

Puzzled, she turned to look into his face. There was so much love in his eyes that she had to start blinking again as he cupped her cheek in his palm. “I have to tell you,” she whispered, figuring the moment might as well be now. “I have to tell you that I so screwed this up when I screwed—”

Dean silenced her with a kiss.

She broke away. No. No. “Let me finish.”

“No, Marlys. I—”

“Dean!” Noah’s voice from across the room. “Hey, Dino, catch!”

When he didn’t look away from Marlys’s face, a heavy ball of yarn flew through the air, bumping Dean on the head, right over his new scar. He swayed back, his hand going to his hairline.

She clutched at his arms to steady him, then spun to confront the men. “Watch it!” she shot out, angered by their carelessness. “Do you want him to lose the rest of his memory?”

Noah’s eyebrows flew up. “What?
Lose his memory
?”

“Memory?” Juliet echoed.

Jay rubbed a hand over his chin, a smile lurking on the corners of his mouth. “Um, yeah, you forget to tell us something, Dean?”

Puzzled, Marlys swung back to look at the injured man. “I don’t understand—”

“Marlys . . .” He lifted his arms, dropped them. “I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied about losing my memory.”

“Not completely. I
did
lose those few months when I was in Afghanistan. I don’t remember much of being there at all. But Malibu . . .”

She just stared at him.

“I remember everything about Malibu.”

Meaning he remembered about Phil.

Marlys backed away, her spine hitting the edge of the countertop. “No.” No, he wouldn’t do that. Her mind continued working. He wouldn’t have lied to her.

Why would he do such a thing?

“I came back here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out, buried them deep again. “I could have died, Marlys. When I was lying in my hospital bed I kept looking at that business card and I decided there was no sense squandering what we might have. Especially when I thought I understood what was going through that convoluted brain of yours.”

“So when you’d presumed I’d forgotten meeting you . . .”

“You lied,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “I lied.”

She stared up at him, nonplussed. Did this mean he really loved her? Did he love her despite knowing all she’d done? How could that be?

“I’m so bad,” she whispered, still confused.

He took her in his arms. “No. You’re defensive and stubborn and funny and brash and from the moment I met you, I knew you were mine.”

Her mind reeled. “And you’re so, so . . . good.”

His smile kicked up. “Not that good. I lied. I’d cheat and steal for you, too, angel.”

She had to laugh a little at herself, her mind still playing catch-up. In recent days he’d taken to calling her “angel,” the name he’d used last fall, and she hadn’t even caught on. What a bonehead.

What a bonehead.

Yet in his arms, knowing what he’d done so they could be together, she was a brave bonehead. With her forefinger, she touched the tear he wore around his neck. He
was
helping her. He was giving her strength, by carrying that. Enough strength to forgive herself for what had happened before, enough strength to face her fears of the future, enough strength to believe that this lying, cheating, stealing man could love her forever.

“And I’ll brave a curse, too,” she declared, throwing caution to the wind. She was loved. This man had shown he was more than worthy of her trust in that. She reached toward the women. “Give me the sweater.”

She got a marriage proposal instead.

 

 

After Marlys and Dean left, Juliet and Cassandra shooed the other men off on their beer-and-billiards evening so that Nikki could have her obviously impending little cry before the knitters arrived in the store. Juliet pulled tissues from the box and handed them over to Nikki as she blotted her face and wiped her nose.

She flopped onto one of the couches and Juliet sat beside her. Cassandra remained standing, her gaze running over the two sisters. The same long legs. Hair within the same color range, though Nikki’s was a streaky gold and brown and Juliet’s a more subtle caramel. Eyes exactly the same color, one bright blue, the other bright green.

Like Dr. Frank Tucker’s eyes.

Unlike her own.

She fingered her own medium brown hair and avoided her reflection in the two mirrors that were set up in separate corners of the shop. Determined to get away from her unhappy thoughts, she wandered to the windows and caught sight of Noah driving off in his truck. Jay followed in his Porsche.

“I really have to get control of my sentimental streak,” Nikki said, sniffing. “Hope to God it goes away before I walk down the aisle.”

“Focus on your mean streak instead, little sister,” Juliet teased.

Nikki flung a damp tissue at her. “Look at you. Marlys caused you a boatload of grief and you’re happy for her.”

“I am,” Juliet admitted. “I’m like you now. I want everyone to find their man.”

Cassandra felt both pairs of matching eyes turn to her, so she bustled over to fuss with the items on the refreshment table. So not going into that conversation. They should know as well as she did that Gabe was just her man of the moment, not the kind of man that Juliet was talking about.

There was the sound of Nikki sighing. “And guess what else? I’m inspired by all these true confessions,” she said. “I think we should tell one another something we’ve been keeping secret.”

Cassandra whipped her head to stare at her sister. Did Nikki guess? Had she somehow found out that Cassandra had made a visit to their father? Her cheeks heated. She didn’t want them to know about it, and more, she didn’t want them to know the doubts the doctor had put in her mind.

Juliet propped her feet on the coffee table and crossed her ankles. “Is this like Truth or Dare?”

“Nope,” Nikki said. “This is all Truth. Because I have something I’m just dying to get off my chest.”

Despite herself, Cassandra wandered closer to the two women on the couch. “Spill,” she commanded, settling on one of the upholstered arms.

Nikki made a big play of looking right, then left, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know how Jay and I are writing our own wedding vows?”

Juliet and Cassandra nodded.

“I’m paying someone to do mine for me.”

Juliet’s blue and green eyes became blue and green saucers. “You can find someone who’ll do that?”

Nikki waved her hand. “Easy-peasy. Think about it. When was the last time you went to the movie theater and saw a good romantic comedy? And those ridiculous ones where the loser guy gets the super-sexy knockout don’t count.”

“There’s been a dearth,” Cassandra acknowledged.

“Which means there’s a lot of clever female screenwrit ers just around the corner in Hollywood looking to pick up some extra work.” She blew an airy breath on her fingernails and then polished them against her shirt. “The man will sink to his knees.”

Juliet was frowning. “I think that’s a violation.”

“Of what?”

“Wedding . . . couple . . . love etiquette. I don’t know,” Juliet said.

“Oh, please,” Nikki answered. “It’s self-preservation. Jay’s a professional writer himself. It’s only fair I get some professional help.”

Juliet wasn’t buying it. “I think that if you said you’re going to write your own vows then you have to write your own vows.”

Nikki shot Cassandra a glance. “Goody Two-shoes,” they said together.

Juliet straightened on the cushions. “You take that back.”

They shook their heads.

Her frown turned fiercer. “Oh, yeah? Well I’ll tell you what’s not goody-goody. I sent a wedding announcement and a phenomenal, romantic photo of Noah and me to the newspaper in his hometown. There’s a certain high school principal and his spawn of a daughter that I’m hoping will experience a very sharp slap of shoulda-woulda-coulda.”

“Nice,” Nikki said, all admiration. “Maybe you can start being the mean one.”

Cassandra laughed, and slid off the arm of the couch onto the cushions beside Nikki. The younger woman put her head on her shoulder, a rare, though increasingly frequent sign of affection. Cassandra wanted to cry. This is what she’d been seeking all her life. Family. Family sharing smiles and laughter and secrets.

There’d been no need to extract elaborate promises of keeping the confidences just shared. Each would never betray a sister.