Sway (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

An x-ray, arm sling and some pain medication later, the doctor told the worried parents that Aiden would be fine but he needed to rest for two to four weeks. The doctor reset the bone but it was still fragile. Back at home, this caused a massive argument between Mari and Charlie.

“There’s nothing for me to do here,” Charlie said to Mari. “Aiden only needs one of us. I’ll go to STK and you can stay home with him.”

“Of course
you
get to be the one to go.” Mari slumped into a chair and crossed her arms, a mulish expression on her face. “Whenever there’s work to do, men always weasel their way out of it.”

Charlie threw his hands in the air. “You’re his
mother
. He’ll want you more than me.”

“But what am
I
going to do?” Mari said. “I’ll be stuck here while you guys have fun without me. I’m the one who wanted to go to STK so bad.”

“Eric’s
my
friend,” Charlie countered.

“What about the nanny?” I asked.

“She’ll have Landon,” Mari muttered. “That’s already a full time job.”

“I’ll stay.” As one they looked at me. “You guys go, I’ll stay with Aiden.”

“Ava, you don’t have to do that,” Charlie said. “He’s not your responsibility.”

“I’m his aunt,” I said. “I wasn’t going to dinner anyway.”

“But don’t you have plans?” he asked.

“It’s no big deal.” Lexi would understand—our night was just a sham anyway.

Mari leaned forward in the chair. “Ava’s right.” Charlie tried to interrupt but she spoke right over him. “She should stay. Her plans weren’t anything special. We have a reservation. With Eric Wentworth!”

“He’s just my buddy from school, Mari. Don’t go all fangirl on him.”

“Besides,” Mari added, getting up from the chair, “Ava isn’t his mother so she won’t feel his pain like I would if I stayed.”

I turned my head so she couldn’t see me roll my eyes.

I texted Lexi to cancel and Mari and Charlie were out the door in less than an hour. I grabbed some yogurt and some snacks and headed to Aiden’s room. Lying beside him on the bed, we watched his favorite movie and ate popcorn and gummy worms. I tried to lose myself in the movie, but I couldn’t stop thinking about their dinner at STK. About Eric, closer to me than he’d been in years. Did he still look the same, act the same? Would he ask about me? Would they talk about me?

My cell phone rang just as Aiden was falling asleep.

“Hello?” I whispered, tiptoeing from the room.

“Why are you whispering?” It was Lexi.

“Sorry.” I raised my voice to a normal level. “I didn’t want to wake Aiden.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’d rather be running around, but he’ll be fine.” Heading to my bedroom, I left the door open in case Aiden woke up. “How’s Elle?”

“The usual. Tantrums most of the day, followed by moments of extreme cuteness. It helps me forget the screaming.”

“Well, she’s two.” Like I knew what I was talking about. I propped my pillows against the headboard and then sank into bed.

“I’d gladly trade my crappy day job for listening to those tantrums all day. Except, guess what?”

“What?” I asked.

“There’s a new guy at the office. He’s going to make coming into work a lot more interesting.”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall, dark, handsome—totally my type.” She moaned. “And his
voice
! It’s all low and smelty, like James Earl Jones. Or Barry White.”

I laughed. “Is smelty even a word?”

“I dunno but it should be.” Her laugh echoed through the phone, joining with mine. “He should do a duet with Eric. Join his smelty bass with Eric’s smooth tenor.”

Baritone, I corrected in my head. My laughter died. We were both quiet.

“Do you wish you’d gone?” Lexi asked after a few seconds.

I twisted the white bed sheet through my fingers. “To dinner tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” I hated to admit it but I was scared to see Eric again. I didn’t know how he’d react, or how I would handle it.

“You’ll have to see him sometime,” Lexi said.

“Who says?”

“It’s inevitable. It’s going to happen whether you like it or not, so you should prepare yourself.”

“How? With a hot outfit and a manicure?”

Lexi laughed. “Exactly. Show him what he’s missing.”

I stared down at my hand, at the bare finger where a ring had lived for a few short weeks. Eric wasn’t missing anything—his life had become everything he wanted. Even the hottest outfit wouldn’t make a bit of difference to him.

“So, when are you going to ask this new guy out?” I asked Lexi, changing the subject.

“I’ve gotta break the kid news to him first, then see if he’s still interested.”

“He better be, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Lexi broke in with a laugh. “Have words, lots of words?”

“Exactly.”

We hung up a few minutes later, still giggling.

* * * * *

“You missed such a fun night, Ava,” Mari said the next morning. She sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of Lucky Charms while I sipped a green smoothie. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how amazing Eric Wentworth is? He’s so funny, and super-hot. And his voice—
wow
!”

I stared out the window, sadness creeping through my chest like a disease.

“We had the best time,” she continued, not noting my lack of enthusiasm for the subject. “We—”

“Mari,” I warned.

“Okay, sorry. But you should know…”

When she didn’t finish the sentence, I looked at her. She squirmed in her chair.

“Know what?”

She leaned over her bowl of cereal. “Lacey really likes him. She’s worried about what you’ll say but I could tell. She’s got it bad.”

“Isn’t Lacey seeing someone?” I asked.

Mari shook her head. “She was dating some construction worker but they broke up a few weeks ago. Good riddance.”

“Why?”

“Because he was so gross!”

“What do you mean?” I was instantly worried. Lacey was so naïve, it would be easy for her to fall prey to a pervert or a wife beater or a fortune hunter.

“He was always dirty and smelly, and the way he talked…” Mari shuddered. “Like Joey from Friends but totally not as cute. And his salary was ridiculous.” Milk from her cereal dripped down her chin but she didn’t notice.

I sighed.

“Eric is a way better catch,” she said. “If you’re okay with it.”

As if I had a choice. It wasn’t my business anymore. “Does he like her?” See, I was totally fine with it. The words weren’t even hard to say.

“It seemed like it. He was really flirty with her.” Mari eyed me, seeing how I would take this news. I sipped my smoothie with a blank expression.

The doorbell rang. Mari jumped from her chair and wiped her hand across her mouth.

“Who’s that?”

“Eric,” Mari said. “Didn’t I tell you?”

I froze. “
What
?” My earlier nonchalance evaporated like an echo.

“Charlie talked his ear off about some video game.” Mari rolled her eyes, but her lips were wide in a grin. “He invited Eric to come over and play co-op. He didn’t think you’d care.”

“I… I don’t.”

Mari left the kitchen but I didn’t move. My mind panicked. I wanted to run, or hide, but what was the point? Lexi was right, I couldn’t avoid seeing him forever. There was no better way to show everyone I didn’t care about Eric than by facing him. I might as well get it over with.

I stared at my empty glass. My heart pounded in my throat. My fingers tapped loudly on the table. My knee bounced. I was twitchy. I needed to get up and do something.

I mechanically cleaned off the kitchen table. Dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Milk and juice back in the fridge. Lucky Charms in the pantry. Wiped the table down with a cloth. After that was done, I had nothing left to do but take deep breaths, my hands gripping the counter. Voices drifted from the front hall. Then footsteps. Coming nearer.

I was wrong. I couldn’t do this. I had to get out of there. Too late to go out the door—maybe the window?

“Want something to drink?” Charlie came into the kitchen first and went straight to the fridge.

Too late. I turned my back, moved out of the way, unconsciously tugging my shirt down over my hips. So much for a hot outfit, I thought, looking down at my v-neck and cut-off shorts. At least I had gotten dressed. That was something.

“The graphics are incredible,” Charlie was saying. “And with the head tracking software, it’s like you’re there, right in the thick of it. You won’t want to stop playing.”

“Maybe some water.”

Eric’s smooth baritone slid over my skin. I knew that sound so well I could pick it out of a voice line-up. I trembled.

“Are you sure?” Mari asked. “We’ve got Coke, juice, milk, purple stuff…”

“No, water’s fine.”

My sweaty hands shook. I had to turn around. Standing with my back to him was rude. I told myself not to be such a coward. To get it over with. My heart thumped. I couldn’t swallow. I took a deep breath, then another. Then turned around.

It was like I had stepped into the past.

Eric’s hair was shorter, the blond a little darker. His face had filled out. So had his body, he wasn’t as lanky as he used to be. His shoulders looked broader, his chest more defined in the light blue shirt he was wearing. But he was still the same. He still looked like my Eric. Except he wouldn’t look at me at all.

I tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Hi.”

Eric’s eyes were still the same mysterious blue. He smiled, but it looked tight, painful. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“Hey.”

Silence descended on the kitchen. Charlie, with his head still in the fridge, had stopped moving. Mari leaned her elbows on the counter, watching us as if she expected a show.

“So…” I fumbled for something to say. “How are things?”

“Fine.” Eric’s voice was as sharp as an elastic snap. He turned to Charlie. “You ready to get whooped?”

My heart sank.

Charlie finally emerged from the fridge with a bottle of water for Eric and a couple of beers for himself. They left the kitchen.

I closed my eyes.

“
Awk
-ward,” Mari sang. I turned away from her. “Maybe I’ll go watch them play for a while.”

I listened to her footsteps fade away.

Alone in the kitchen, I slumped over the counter. My body felt exhausted and weak, like I’d run a marathon. It was over. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about that first meeting again. In fact, I was pretty sure I didn’t need to worry about a second. Because clearly, he didn’t want to see me.

The truth hurt more than I wanted it to. After eight years, he still hadn’t forgiven me.

* * * * *

A few hours later, I sat in a chair by Aiden’s bed, reading a book while he napped. Eric, Mari and Charlie hadn’t emerged from the den all morning. It must have been a really good video game.

When Mari popped her head in the room, her eyes widened.

“I was wondering where you were.” She went to Aiden’s side and brushed a strand of chocolate brown hair off his forehead.

“The nanny’s busy with Landon so I thought I’d stay with Aiden for a while,” I replied.

Mari perched on the edge of the bed facing me. “You should’ve come to the den. Charlie even let me play for a bit.”

I smiled to myself. Mari had never cared an ounce for video games before.

“Eric just kept killing me over and over so eventually I gave up.” Mari yawned. “It’s no fun to lose all the time.”

Eric had never cared for video games before either. At least not when I knew him. But I didn’t know him anymore. Eight years could change many things.

“He was so nice though,” Mari went on. She raised her chin. “He kept asking all these questions about me.”

“Great,” I murmured.

“Yeah. We’re BFFs already,” she said.

I snorted.

“Okay, maybe not, but he and Charlie are like high school kids together. You’d think it had only been days since they’ve seen each other.”

I was happy that their friendship had remained intact, just as mine with Charlie had never faded, even when he married my sister. I couldn’t let the awkwardness between Eric and me get in their way.

“You should have heard what he said about you though.”

I jerked my head up, my hands gripped the book. “What did he say?” I cursed myself for caring.

“I can’t remember exactly.” Mari waved her hand. “He just said you’ve changed since high school—you’re so different he never would have known it was you.”

My grip loosened and I absently smoothed out the crinkles in the pages. So. That’s what he thought of me. So different he never would have known me.

“I started to tell him about Juilliard and all that,” Mari continued. “But he cut me off like he didn’t want to hear it.”

I shrugged like it didn’t matter but I knew that was a lie. Her words, his words, were more than I could bear. I couldn’t be here right now, couldn’t let Mari see how unsettled I was.

I escaped to my room and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t look so different from high school. My brown hair was highlighted now, and a bit healthier because I took better care of it. My eyes weren’t as soft as they used to be. My face was more angular. I had faint lines across my forehead that probably weren’t there eight years ago. Not much was different, but I did look older. I didn’t have that youthful glow anymore. No more bloom.

So different he never would have known me? I didn’t know if he meant that literally, or if he said it just to hurt me.

Whatever the reason, there was nothing I could do. We were strangers to each other now. No, worse than strangers, because we would never talk again, or spend the time to get to know each other again.

Now we’re strangers and it’s killing me.

Chapter Twelve

I brought the spoon to my lips, carefully sampling a bite of hot rice. The rice was done, but not lemony enough. Grabbing the jar of lemon-pepper seasoning, I sprinkled some into the pot and stirred. A second taste test gave me the results I was looking for.

“Something smells good.” Charlie walked into the kitchen sniffing like a bloodhound. Eric hovered in the doorway behind him. After an entire day of gaming, they’d finally reemerged into the real world. I kinda wished they’d stayed away.

Charlie leaned over my pot of rice. “Are you making dinner?”

I ignored Eric’s stare. “Depends.” I bent down and checked the chicken cooking in the oven.

“On what?”

“How complimentary you’re going to be afterward.” I pulled the chicken
souvlaki
from the oven.

“I thought we were ordering Chinese,” Mari said. She leaned over my shoulder as I cut into a piece of chicken on one of the sticks. “I don’t think that’s done.”

“Yes, it is.” Actually, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to admit it with Eric there. “Go ahead and order if you want to.” I hadn’t cooked dinner to impress anyone. It was something to keep me occupied. And leftover
souvlaki
was great in salads.

Charlie stood on my other side. “That’s definitely done.”

“No, it’s still pink,” Mari argued.

“That’s just the light.”

With hands on my hips, I listened to them argue over my chicken, wishing I knew the answer so I could get them to shut up.

“Let me see.”

Eric leaned over me and I quickly moved out of his way.

“Maybe another couple of minutes,” he said.

Mari poked her finger into Charlie’s stomach. “Ha! Told you.”

Eric donned an oven mitt and placed the
souvlaki
back in the oven. I busied myself with chopping peppers and cucumber for a salad.

Lacey burst into the room. “Who cooked?” She dropped her purse on the kitchen table. She zeroed in on Eric still wearing the oven mitt. “Eric! Did you make dinner for us?” Her smile was the perfect mixture of cute and flirtatious.

“No, it was…”

He didn’t finish that sentence, like he couldn’t even say my name. The knife in my hand sliced through a cherry tomato. The juices spilled like blood onto the cutting board.

Lacey approached Eric. “Well, if you didn’t do it, it had to be Ava. Besides me, she’s the only person who cooks around here.”

Mari spluttered. “Hey, I cook!”

Mari’s culinary skills involved toast, sandwiches and anything microwaveable—much like I used to be. Even though none of that really qualified as cooking, we didn’t argue with her. It wasn’t worth it.

“Ooh, we should eat in the dining room,” Lacey said. “We haven’t in forever. We can even use the fancy china Mom got you guys for your wedding.”

Mari grumbled something uncomplimentary about her fancy china.

I glanced up from the salad prep to see Lacey put her hand on Eric’s arm. “Help me set the table?”

He gave her a half-smile. “Sure.”

The sound of Lacey’s giggles floated from the dining room to my unwilling ears. I turned on Mozart to drown it out. A few minutes later, we were sitting around the dining table, passing the food around while Mozart’s “Requiem Mass” echoed from the kitchen as if somebody had died.

Across from me, Lacey and Eric were already deep in conversation.

“What was your tour like?” she asked, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

Eric glanced at her plate, covered with only a teeny amount of salad, no dressing.

“Busy,” he said. “Do you want some rice?” He picked up the giant platter but Lacey shook her head.

I could tell Eric was restraining himself from saying something about her lack of food. He had never liked girls who didn’t eat.

“Ava,” Mari barked. “Can you turn off that music? I feel like I’m at a funeral.”

I went to the kitchen and stopped the CD. The voices of the choir lingered on in my head. Landon, who was eating dinner with his brother and the nanny at the kitchen table, lowered his hands from his ears. Like his mother, he clearly didn’t appreciate Mozart.

“How many cities did you visit?” Lacey was asking when I returned to the dining room.

Eric’s eyes flicked to me then away as I took my seat. “Eighty-two this time around. We were on the road for just over a year.”

There were general sounds of surprise around the table. I picked at my
souvlaki
and tried to look disinterested. I should’ve just left earlier. Gone to the beach or the LACMA. Looking at contemporary art would have been better than this.

“That many cities is pretty normal,” Eric said. “We could have booked more but it just gets to be too much sometimes.” He grimaced. “Touring is important. It’s the best way to connect with fans and I love it but…it can become stressful and tiring. The band’s been busy since we started, even before our first single came out. We all needed a break.”

“How did you get into music in the first place?” Lacey asked.

“My parents forced me to take piano lessons when I was a kid.” Eric glanced at me again. “The singing came on its own. I did it for fun. The piano alone wasn’t fulfilling enough.”

“You’ve never felt that way, have you, Ava?” Mari said from the head of the table.

I shrugged.

“I needed something more,” Eric said.

I looked at him but it seemed like just at that moment he tore his eyes from me.

“Why do you sing all those oldie songs?” Lacey asked. “Why didn’t you become a rock star or a rapper or something?”

Something cooler, is what she meant. Eric’s eyes tightened. “My voice isn’t exactly fit for rock music. And rap isn’t really my thing.”

Another memory threatened the surface of my brain, but I pushed it away.

“Rap is definitely your thing.” Charlie said. “Remember that talent show in high school where we did Naughty by Nature and came in first place?” He put down his fork and started rapping “O.P.P.,” his hands swinging wildly.

Laughter bubbled from my mouth. “I forgot all about that. Eleventh grade, right?” They’d worn big coats and baggy pants, Eric with a backwards baseball cap and Charlie’s hair done in cornrows. They had rapped around a fake DJ spin table while a couple of girls from the cheerleading squad danced back-up.

Eric took over from Charlie, launching into the next verse while the rest of us laughed. We all joined in for the chorus.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Mari said when they’d finished. Charlie pouted.

“I never would have made it as a rapper,” Eric said. “We became known for those old songs in the beginning. Our early fans liked the whole Sinatra-vibe. It was only natural to continue that, once the first single became so popular.”

“Those ‘old songs’ are some of the best songs ever written,” I said.

Eric looked at me and opened his mouth.

Lacey put her hand on Eric’s arm, drawing his attention. “Well, ‘No Two Hearts’ is personally my favorite.” He smiled at her.

I tried not to stab myself with my
souvlaki
skewer.

“The song is so full of pain and passion,” Lacey continued. “It hurts just to listen to it.”

She had no idea.

Lacey took a bite of salad, sliding the fork slowly from her mouth. “Did you write it about someone?”

Every eye at the table shifted to me, except for Lacey’s. She stared at Eric like she was drowning and he was her lifeboat. I looked down at my plate.

“Lacey,” Charlie warned.

“What?” I heard her say. Then, “Oh.
Ohhh
.” Awkward silence stretched around the table.

Eric was the one to break it. “I never talk about where my inspiration comes from,” he said.

I put my fork and knife down, my appetite gone, and stood up abruptly. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

My eyes down, I hurried from the room. No one stopped me.

* * * * *

I paced Mari and Charlie’s living room, fanning my hands in front of my face to cool the flush heating my cheeks. Deep breaths in and out and I would be calm in no time.

I never talk about where my inspiration comes from,
Eric had said.

I felt so humiliated. And exposed. Everyone makes mistakes, but there I was, still living through mine eight years later. All thanks to that stupid song.

I wanted to scream but there was no point getting upset. No use regretting. I’d made a life for myself since—a good one. I had a Master’s from Juilliard. I’d loved again, lived on my own, became my own person apart from my family and Eric.

That didn’t stop tears from stinging my eyes. They were waiting in the wings and I couldn’t stop them from making their grand debut.

A black baby grand piano rested in the middle of the living room, dusty from lack of use. It was an art piece, a room filler. I lifted the lid, uncovered the keys.

I blinked my tears away and started to play. Schubert’s “Serenade” floated from my fingertips. The music filled my ears, my head, my heart, the entire room. The sad melody took me over. Seeing Eric again, the painful and lovely memories from our past, his obvious disregard for me now—all of it bled through my fingers and into the notes.

It wasn’t until the song was over that I realized my cheeks were wet. I hadn’t been able to stop the tears after all. Turning my face, I lifted my fingers to scrub them away when I noticed someone retreating from the doorway.

Eric.

* * * * *

I played a while longer, until I felt composed enough to face everyone. To face
him
. Even then, I kept going, kept playing because that’s what I did. I played until my emotions were nothing but the notes of another man’s masterpiece.

By the time Lacey bounded into the room, Mari, Charlie and Eric following behind, I felt scrubbed clean. Fresh. Serene. It didn’t even bother me when Lacey leaned her elbows on the piano and asked me to get off.

“Eric said he’d play for us,” she said.

I slid from the bench. “Of course.”

Eric’s eyes slid away from me as I walked past him to the corner of the room. Lacey, elbows still on the piano, leaned toward him, giving him an easy view of what her low-cut top barely concealed.

I turned my attention to the bookshelf behind me.

“What do you want me to play?” Eric asked, his fingers plucking a light tune across the keys.

“You pick,” Lacey said.

I slid my hands over the glossy spines, searching for a title I recognized. Most of it was sci-fi, the only kind of books Charlie was into. I pulled one of the older paperbacks from the shelf, then grimaced at the cover. Ridiculous looking aliens fought each other with swords while a half-clothed woman lay on the ground beneath them. No thanks. I slid the book back in place.

“Okay,” Eric replied. “I’ve got a song in mind.” His fingers pounded out some chords, harsh and loud. I couldn’t identify the song. It didn’t sound familiar without the band’s instruments behind him. My fingers absently tapped against the bookshelf along to the music. When the first words of the song pierced the room, I froze.

Eric was singing “Cry Me a River.” Not Justin Timberlake’s version, but the original first made famous by Julie London and then revived by Michael Bublé.

I slowly turned around. Eric wasn’t looking at me as he sang, but I knew he meant the song for me. He’d caught me crying and this is what he thought of it. Talk about a slap in the face.

I clenched my jaw and tried to ignore how much Eric was getting into the song. How much he was enjoying it. How much he meant it, even if the lyrics weren’t completely true. I wanted to run from the room, but I wouldn’t do that again.

Eric pounded on the piano and I flinched at every harsh chord. The lyrics cut like razor blades. I felt sick, the lemon rice and
souvlaki
I’d slaved over threatened to come right back up. I glanced around the room to see if anyone else could tell what Eric was doing. Charlie and Mari were both staring at me.

These past eight years had changed Eric, all right. I never knew he could be so mean, so cruel. Yes, I had hurt him, and I still felt awful about it. I had cried over him, more than he would ever know. But it wasn’t like Eric to attack like this.

I didn’t know him anymore.

I looked away, unable to bear the sight of this stranger in front of me. Grabbing a random book off the shelf, I sat in a chair and pretended to read. As much as I wanted to run away, I had to show Eric that his song wasn’t doing a thing to me.

The last notes died from the piano and silence filled the room.

“Well, that was awkward,” Mari said.

I kept my gaze lasered on the book. A moment later, I heard footsteps, and then whispering.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Charlie hissed.

Eric tried to sound innocent. “What? I like that song.”

“Don’t be a tool,” Charlie replied.

Even though Charlie was coming to my defense, and I appreciated it, part of me felt even more humiliated. Small and pathetic, like I couldn’t handle myself. Poor Ava, who needed someone to come to her rescue, who was trying to play the victim. I didn’t want to be anyone’s victim. I was tempted to one-up him by taking over the piano and belting out “Really Don’t Care,” but I wouldn’t stoop to his level. Plus, I couldn’t sing.

I dropped the book on my chair and strode to the piano. “Hey, it’s no big deal.” Both their heads swiveled to me. “I like that song. Eric does it especially well.” I gave Eric a tight-lipped smile. It was the best I could do. I turned away from him.

After a brief moment, Eric launched into “Heartache Tonight.” Lacey started to dance in the middle of the room, shimmying her hips like she was at a club. Mari and Charlie joined her, doing a terrible version of country-swing. When Lacey called out for me to join them, I shook my head. I wanted to, but I felt stiff, like my body wasn’t my own. I picked up my discarded book and skimmed through five chapters of
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
while Eric played through three more songs.

Eric started up a slower tune. It was smooth and jazzy and he didn’t sing this time. Lacey snuggled herself beside him on the piano bench. I ignored the pang I felt at seeing my old place taken over by someone new. I didn’t want that place back, anyway.