Perfectly Broken (18 page)

* * *

Peyton arranged for the funeral at Holy Name of Jesus Catholic Church on St. Charles Avenue. There was no other option, really. It was where her parents and grandparents married, where she received First Communion and Baptism, where she stood 20 years ago when she buried her parents and received her locket from Gram. She kept a firm focus on making sure every detail of the funeral was perfect. After all, this was the last one she’d have to do. Gram was the last family she’d have to bury.

Through the planning and chaos, Reed kept his promise. He went with her to the funeral home, fielded tons of phone calls, cooked and cleaned, made sure Julia covered the shop, even helped Peyton pick out a black dress. He was around if she needed him and made himself scarce if she seemed to want to be alone. And at night, he slept in a spare bedroom down the hall just in case she needed anything, though she never asked. Despite all his help, she didn’t eat much and slept even less. The loss, the plans, her life were all taking a toll. In fact, Reed hadn’t seen her smile in days. He missed that, her sweet laugh, her lips on his. He found himself settling for holding her hand, his touch helping her stay grounded, bolstering her quiet confidence — as if she’d done it before.

On the day of the funeral, friends and family, customers young and old, came from far and wide to pay tribute to Adelaide, each with a story to tell — about her pies, about days gone by in New Orleans, about Adelaide herself. Even the priest shared a story of his favorite pie, pulling out a slice from behind the lectern and raising a fork. “Our dear Adelaide is making Heaven a little sweeter today,” he said then took a bite.

But not everyone who came was there for Adelaide. A large group of folks came to support Peyton, many of her friends, high school and college classmates, current customers. Griffin, of course, flew down from Chicago and made sure to hug Peyton several times. Reed saw each one and couldn’t tell whether they were for Griffin’s benefit or Peyton’s, but he let them have their moments together. After all, they’d known each other and Gram a long time, and Reed noticed the guy seemed to have a genuine comforting effect on her. For some odd reason, Peyton needed Griffin, and Reed wasn’t going to deny her that — at least not today.

With each hug and well-wisher, Reed saw Peyton grow weaker and weaker. A week of crazy planning without eating or sleeping had finally caught up to her. He was worried. She needed to eat. She needed to sleep. She needed space to breathe. As soon as the crowd thinned out, Reed offered her some food and suggested she sit down, but she declined and started to clean up. That was the last straw. Reed had seen enough; he gently pulled her aside before she collapsed from exhaustion.

“I’m taking you away from all this for a little while.” He motioned to Bret and Quinn, fully aware of his plan. “They’ve got things under control.”

Peyton offered a slight protest which was quickly replaced by a yawn. He let Griffin hug her one more time then took Peyton by the hand and put her in his Range Rover. He turned on some classical music and drove off, Peyton resting her head against the window glass, staring into the darkness.

“We have a little drive,” he said, reaching into the backseat and handing her a pillow and blanket. “Maybe try to get some sleep.”

Peyton was too drained to ask any questions. The day had been a whirlwind, just like all the days of preparation. She placed the pillow in his lap, leaned over, and curled into a little ball. Before drifting off to sleep, she gave thanks for a perfect service honoring Gram and for a certain trust she’d developed in Reed — to let him take the lead and take control, at least for now, wherever the hell they were going.

Reed turned onto I-10 East and settled in for the drive. He looked down at Peyton on his lap. He’d never seen her sleep before, her face soft and relaxed for the first time in days, appearing so fragile now — quite the contrast from how she typically carried herself. Then his mind wandered along the open highway, wishing he could be holding her in his arms, kissing her gently, naked, her full lips not merely resting on the pillow.
It’s been so long!

He shook his head, remembering he’d just come from an elderly woman’s funeral. He tried to focus on the road ahead. But it was impossible. His imagination, his hopes, his desires all occupied his mind, in overdrive, for the full five hour drive.

PEYTON TURNED OVER
in the fluffy down bed and stretched out her arms. She wiped her eyes, finding, surprisingly, she was still in the same clothes, with no idea where she was, or how or when she got wherever she was. She looked at the night table near the bed holding a fresh set of watermelon pink calla lilies then over to the bedroom curtains, the morning sunlight peeking through. At least she thought it was morning. She got up out of bed, and her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor.

She walked to the curtains, pulling them back, and sunlight filled the room. She blinked several times to adjust her eyes, before the sugar sand beach along the Gulf of Mexico came into view. She gasped and took a step back, placing her hand on her chest, shocked Reed had remembered and that he’d even do this for her. She slid open the door, and the Florida heat, even for March, hit her hard. So did the cool rush of the Gulf breeze carrying a salty smell and misty spray. She took a few steps out onto a deck and down some wooden stairs, then her toes hit the sand. She made her way out to the water.

Reed saw her from the den window, all alone in a black dress on the white sandy beach. It looked like a beautiful photograph advertising the Florida beaches, and there was something painfully beautiful seeing her alone with only her grief. He waited a moment before heading outside, giving her the space he assumed she needed.

Peyton sat down on the soggy morning sand and held her knees against her, letting the waves crash onto her feet. She thought back to when she’d come here, to Seaside, with her grandfather and the words he’d always say.
Give your sorrows to the sea. Let the sea carry them away.
She twirled her locket, as the tears came down.

Reed walked out towards her, wearing a t-shirt and bathing suit, and wrapped his arms around her.

“Very sweet you remembered,” she said, wiping her face.

“I remember everything about you,” he said. Peyton leaned her head on his shoulder. “For the next few days, I’m going to take care of you here.”

“But I have so much to do at home and at the shop.”

“Don’t worry about all that,” he said, stroking her hair and kicking away some green seaweed. “Quinn and Bret are taking care of the thank you notes and cleaning up the house and whatever else, and I closed the shop for you until next week.”

She looked up at him. “You arranged all that?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her on the head. “I got tons of groceries here, too. The fridge is stocked. I want to make sure you eat.”

“Did you get hot dogs?”

“Yeah, I also got stuff to make s’mores,” he said. Peyton kissed him slowly, parting his lips and gently stroking his tongue with hers. It had seemed like an eternity to Reed since they kissed this way. She smiled when they pulled apart; it seemed an eternity since he saw that, too. He flashed a wry smile. “I also brought you out here because I want to see you in a bikini.”

“I bet you do.” Then something occurred to her. “You packed clothes for me, too?”

“No, I left that to Quinn. I didn’t want to rummage through your underwear drawer.”

“I hope Quinn didn’t analyze my panties.”

“Bret probably did.” Reed reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze, thankful a glimmer of his girl had returned.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Like 15 hours. But don’t worry, I slept in a separate bedroom. Twin bed, so it was rough. Think I’ll try the couch tonight.”

“Sorry.” She looked back at the beach cottage. “Two bedrooms?” Reed nodded. “It’s bigger than it looks. You could bring a whole family here.”

Reed turned as green as the seaweed. “You could,” he said safely.

With Bret talking about marriage, and now Peyton talking about family, he was in a galaxy lightyears away from Heather and her kind — and what was his own life, a prior life. Then he looked back at the cottage, and ever the architect, could picture what she meant: parents dancing in the sand under the stars, then making love in the master bedroom; children sleeping down the hall in the twin beds, after playing all day on the beach; a family dog running around outside the cottage, kicking up sand off the deck. He could see Peyton in it, and he could see himself by her side — but everything else, he wasn’t so sure.

He reached for her hand in the sand then turned back towards the Gulf, a warm breeze blowing in. He found Peyton’s eyes on him, studying him, trying to read his thoughts. He cleared his throat to compose himself. Then she gave a slight shiver, her black dress wet from the waves.

“Let’s go see if Quinn packed a bikini,” he said then picked her up and carried her back towards the cottage.

Peyton felt her heart jump.
He carried me to bed last night
.

* * *

After a warm bath and some lunch, Peyton finally put on a bikini — underneath a long button-down shirt. She was thankful Quinn had packed the shirt, remembering everything she might need — all the way down to the “Shame on You” kit — though she did curse her friend for not packing a one-piece suit.

She walked out of the beach cottage onto the deck, feeling somewhat naked, to find Reed sitting on the steps. He looked her up and down, frowning at the ridiculous shirt but drooling over her long, toned legs.

He turned his back to her. “Hop on.”

“I’ll crush you!”

“No, you won’t.”

“Where are we going?”

“Does it matter?” Reed grabbed her and hoisted her on his back.

Peyton giggled and swatted his shoulders. “Put me down, you crazy, crazy man!”

“I finally got your legs wrapped around me,” he teased, starting down the beach. “Don’t ruin it.”

Peyton laughed so hard she almost peed on his back. But she soon settled in, breathing in the crisp salty air, looking around at the crashing waves and white sand, feeling the strength of his muscles. She thought back to the last week: she’d been a complete mess, a nervous wreck planning a funeral and grieving the last of her family. She knew there would be more grieving, more anxiety, but for now it felt good to enjoy the ride, to let Reed take over, with the wind at her back and blowing through her hair.

After a few minutes, Reed lowered her down, pretending he’d thrown out his back, and she playfully punched him in the arm. Then they walked along the beach holding hands, laughing and talking about everything and nothing, occasionally stopping to pick up a shell or crash a wave. He looked back at the cottage about a quarter mile away before tossing a shell into the Gulf.

“Race you back,” Peyton said, a mischievous look in her eye.

“What do I get when I beat you?” he asked.

“What do
I
get when I beat
you
?” She hadn’t run in days but knew she’d still beat him. After all, she was a trained runner, and he’d slept last night in a bed made for a toddler and just carried her a good way down the beach.

Reed captured her in his arms. “Anything you want.”

“OK, I’ll take that. And I’ll let you know what I want after I win.”

“When
I
win,” Reed said, tugging at her shirt, “you take this awful thing off.”

“Deal,” Peyton said, confident her bikini would stay hidden.

They took their starting positions. “Ready!” Peyton said, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“Set!” Reed said, both of them digging in their heels.

“Go!” Peyton screamed and took off like a bullet, kicking up sand in her wake.

“Shit!” Reed cursed, seeing he was in trouble. He hadn’t expected her to start so fast. She was already ten feet ahead of him, and he pushed himself to catch up. But he wasn’t gaining any ground.
I can’t lose to a girl!
He increased his pace, hoping his boxing training could somehow help, digging as hard and as deep as he could, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Quinn or Bret if he lost.

He slowly closed the gap, now five feet behind with about 100 yards to go. But Peyton wasn’t letting up at all. Then a gust of wind blew her long button-down shirt up above her bikini bottom, and Reed fixed his eyes on her tight, little ass. He took it as a sign from God, some kind of divine inspiration to spur him on, providing an extra bit of motivation. He wanted to see more. He needed to see more. He ran in and out of the sand, faster and faster, harder and harder.

With ten yards to go, he pulled even and matched her stride for stride, and at the last yard moved slightly ahead, beating her to the back deck by no more than a foot. Then he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. “Jesus Christ!” he cried through ragged breath. “You’re fast!”

Peyton paced around him, catching her breath, fuming he’d caught her — that she’d allowed herself to be caught. She looked down at him, panting and exhausted, and couldn’t believe it. All the years she’d spent running — to make sure no one could catch her again — and Reed had just done it. She twirled her locket, pissed as hell, thinking she was faster.
I should be faster.

Reed struggled to his knees and looked up at her. “Strip,” he said.

Peyton narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d lost but wasn’t about to welch on a bet. She slowly undid the top button of her shirt then moved to the next, her hand slightly trembling, her legs quivering beneath her.
Get it together.
She undid the next button, and Reed got a quick peek at part of her bikini top. She slowly slid her hand down to the third button on her shirt, her hand trembling even more.

Reed pushed himself up from the sand and struggled to his feet. He then lowered her hands from her shirt and took hold of them. She dropped her hands to her hips, assuming he wanted to take off the shirt himself. But he put his hand on the top button and fastened it.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Then he fixed the second button. “I’ll see your body when you’re ready to share it,” Reed said, looking sweetly into her eyes, “not because I won a bet.”