Unexpected Chance (7 page)

“Yo, Gary! Savvy’s taking a break, a long break. You don’t mind, do you?” Willow asks, snapping her fingers in his direction. “Bring us a round of Tequila Sunrise’s, and a club soda for me,” she continues.

My eyes go big and I look at Gary, shaking my head back and forth. I silently send him subliminal messages to ignore every word she just said. Not only did she just tell my boss that I’m taking a long break, but she barked drink orders at him. I need this job. If I get fired from here, I’ll have no way of paying Ava rent or buying food. And I like food. Gary looks at the girls, then he looks at Willow and waves his hand at us. Did Gary just say I could take a very long break after only being on shift for thirty minutes?

“Sit,” Ava demands, pulling me down into a chair.

“Look, I really appreciate what you’re all trying to do, but I can’t lose this job,” I tell everyone. God, I need some gum. Forget about buying dollar nail polish, I need gum, like stat.

“You can always have your job back at Max’s PI firm,” Chloe says.

That was an amazing job. I wish I could have it back. I can’t involve anyone I love in my crap until I know this Reno shit is for sure over.

“So, let’s not waste any of your time, then. You’re screwed,” Willow says bluntly.

“What?” I ask nervously. Tingles race up my cheeks and I start to feel a little light headed.

Gary brings over our drink orders on a tray; he sets the whole tray on the table with more force than necessary, then says, “On me, pass them out yourselves,” then he turns around and leaves.

I look at Gary because he’s just now entered the Twilight Zone with me. I stand and pass out the drinks. Ava pulls me down in my seat again.

“Woman, stop pulling me in my seat,” I say, then immediately regret saying it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I tell her.

She smiles at me, nods her head and says, “There’s some of that spunk I love so much.”

“I see the way Aiden looks at you. It’s the same way all the rest of the Wellington men look at their women. You’re screwed, and I say that in the nicest possible way. Once one of them boys gets that look in their eyes, there’s nothing you can do. You should just count yourself one of the luckiest women in the world and surrender,” Willow says.

Tears fill my eyes, because I’d like nothing more than to give into the fantasy of being Aiden’s woman. “I’m not like any of you,” I tell them.

“Like any of us? Just what do you mean by that?” Amelia asks.

Shit, now I’ve pissed her off. “Please don’t take it the wrong way. You all are so . . . beautiful and amazingly talented and look like you belong. I look like last week’s trash,” I tell them.

“Last week’s trash! Don’t make me pull you out of your chair and slap some sense into you,” Ava says.

“Oh, honey. You just don’t have a clue, do you? You need to take another look at yourself in the mirror. You are beautiful and you have one of the kindest hearts I’ve ever seen. Do I need to tell everyone the story you told me in that coffee house about why you want to become a hospice nurse?” Chloe asks?

“No! Please don’t do that,” I say, standing. I look at Ava, then quickly sit back down before she plants my ass in the chair again and breaks one of Gary’s chairs. Gary would for sure take it out of my tip money.

“What story? I want to hear it,” Shay says.

“I want to hear it, too,” Amelia says.

“I’ll tell you all on the way home,” Chloe says, winking at me.

“Look, the point here is, Aiden has it bad for you. These men don’t mess around. When they see what they want, they take it and run. You need to grab hold of whatever it is that’s closest to you, and hang on for dear life. It’s a hell of a ride,” Shay says, with a wicked smile.

“That’s putting it mildly. It’s a fan-fucking-tastic hell of a ride,” Chloe says, with the same wicked smile.

“Honey, I’ll bet you the baby in my belly, you will become the next Wellington right along with the rest of us.” Willow says.

“Wait, I’m not a Wellington anymore,” Amelia says.

“I’m not either,” Ava says.

“I never was,” Chloe pouts.

“Girls! You’re missing the point. We are all Wellington’s, either now, or by maiden name, or by reason of, I just said so,” Willow says with attitude, looking at Chloe. “I’m telling you, Savvy, hold on to your knickers, you’re one of us.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I know all of their stories and I know what a whirlwind they are. Every single one of their relationships was in hyper warp drive, and before anyone could turn around they were all married and spitting out babies left and right. No joke. I’d like nothing more than to believe that’s true, and to believe that I’m the type of girl Aiden would want. Aiden is the man of my dreams, and that’s just it, in my dreams. I’m just not what they think I am.

Chapter 4

Aiden

I leave the bar and head to the auto parts store, then straight home to work on Savvy’s car. She gets off at midnight, so I have plenty of time to get this thing running. I replace the battery, the starter, spark plugs and several other parts, then have a seat behind the wheel and give the key a turn. She roars to life and purrs like a kitten. I smile at myself, turn her off, and head in to take a shower to wash all the grease off before I pick up Savvy.

At eleven forty-five, I get in Ruby—shit, now I’m calling it by her name—and I drive her to the bar just to make sure she’s running good. Right when I pull up outside the bar, the heavy wooden door opens and Savvy’s face instantly lights up.

“Ruby!” she screams. She runs to her car and gives the hood a hug. “She’s alive! Oh my God, you’re a ding-dang-dong mechanic whisperer,” she says, as I get out of the car and walk over to her.

I stop in my tracks, grab my gut, and roar laughing. She lunges at my arms and squeezes so tight she almost takes my breath away. On second thought, that’s the feeling I get every time she’s in my arms. I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in the crook of her neck. She starts jumping up and down in my arms, squealing.

“Can I drive her? Oh, I’ve missed her so much,” she says, backing away looking in my eyes.

I nod my head and lead her over to the driver side door. She gets in and I close the door. I walk around to the passenger side and get in shaking my head at her excitement. As nasty and rusty as the outside of this car is, the inside is well taken care of for a thirty-five year old car.

“How did it go with my sisters in the bar?” I ask, as she pulls away from the curb.

“Your sisters and your sisters-in-law scare the living crap out of me. I think Ava wants to whack me. But the scariest of them all is Willow. All of them together are like hornets chasing a wet dog. Did you know they were coming to the bar tonight?” she asks.

“Total surprise to me,” I tell her truthfully. I also don’t tell her that Willow scares me, too. They all do, and when they all get together, which is on a weekly basis, the men are always on their best behavior.

Savvy pulls up to the curb on the street in front of my house and I give her a strange look. She reaches into her front pocket and pulls out a small wad of cash.

“If that’s what I think it is, you put that back into your pocket right now. You work hard for your tips and fixing this car for you is something I wanted to do. There’s still quite a bit of work that needs to be done to make this car safe. I know you’d say no if I offered to buy you a new car . . .”

“I’m never getting rid of this car!” she says, raising her voice. It surprises me that she’d yell and I look at her face. Her eyes fill with tears and I can read the apology all over her face.

“What’s so special about this car?” I ask gently.

She holds onto this car like it’s a living piece of her. She looks down at her fingernails and starts picking under her nails. I noticed her do that before, she does it when she has something that’s hard to say.

“It belonged to my mother. It’s the only thing I have that’s hers. I don’t know what my Aunt Molly did with everything else. This car sat in her garage for eight years after my mother died, covered with a tarp, collecting dust. I’d had enough of my aunt’s craziness and I moved out when I was eighteen. On my eighteenth birthday, we got in a huge fight and she said that if I leave, I leave only with the clothes on my back. And I did, in a heartbeat, without ever looking back. It broke my heart to leave Ruby. I met a guy shortly after that, and I think I falsely fell in love with him when I told him my life story and about my aunt. He broke into my aunt’s garage and stole Ruby. That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. That relationship ended and I lived in fear of being pulled over and arrested for grand theft auto. About six months later, I found an envelope on my doorstep at the apartment building I was living in. In it was the title to Ruby, signed over to me free and clear from my aunt. I didn’t understand it, I still don’t. She had never given me anything but orders to clean this or iron that. Why did she give me something of my mother’s? Besides, how did she even know where I lived? There were too many unanswered questions and if I dwelled on it, I would have exploded. So I stopped asking questions and just accepted it. I finally had something that belonged to my mother. I’ve dumped more paychecks into this car to keep it running than a human being in their right mind should. I just can’t help it. If I could be buried in this car, I would be,” she says, wiping tears off her cheeks.

That did it. No matter how much it costs, Ruby will be restored. I was right this woman has been given shit her entire life. She’s had to fight for everything in her life. Not anymore. Not ever again.

“Do you have a picture of your mother?” I ask. After I ask it, I wish I could take it back. She said she doesn’t have anything of her mother’s. What if she doesn’t even have a picture?

“I do,” she says, reaching into her purse. She opens her wallet and pulls out a newspaper clipping and hands it to me. It’s creased from being folded and very worn out; it’s her mother’s obituary clipped from the local paper. My heart sinks and my anger soars toward her aunt. What would possess her aunt to be so cruel to her sister’s only daughter, the only living extension of her sister? I dig my cell phone out of my pocket, swipe my finger across the screen and turn it upside down to shine some light on the article. It’s a small color photo and it takes my breath away.

I turn to Savvy and say, “You lied when you said that Ruby was the only thing you have of your mothers. You have her eyes.”

Her eyebrows come together and tears stream down her cheeks as horrific sobs come from deep inside her. She’s crying so hard she’s gasping for air. I think she’s having a panic attack. I get out of the car and rush to open her door. I kneel down in the street to get eye level with her.

“Savvy,” I gently call. Her eyes are lost and staring straight ahead, she’s sobbing so hard she’s choking on her own tears. I touch her face, then take a thick strand of hair in my finger and give it a twirl. She instantly stops crying and her eyes come to mine. Her lungs desperately take in much needed air and I say, “Put your arms around me, baby.” Her arms go to either side of my head and lock behind me. I pull her out of the car and into my body on the street. I stand and wrap one arm under her knees and the other around her back, then kick the car door closed with my foot. She buries her face in my neck and I hold her close to my chin. “Shh, I’ve got you,” I tell her.

I dig the keys out of my pocket and enter through the front door, then kick the door closed with my foot. I walk straight back to my bedroom and place her in bed. I take off her shoes, toe off my own shoes, then get into bed with her. I pull her close and hold her sobbing body.

After about an hour she finally falls asleep. Her tiny frame still jerks with the occasional sob, but she’s finally asleep. I cover her with the sheet, then kiss her on the forehead. Her keys are still in the ignition of her car. I head back out to the street and pull Ruby into the garage. I strip out of my clothes, leaving on my boxers, and climb back in bed with Savvy. I wrap my arm around her chest; she grabs my wrist and squeezes it tight to her body. She lives with so much more hurt than I know about. Is it possible to replace a lifetime of hurt with something as simple as love?

Savvy

My eyes open and I’m in Aiden’s bed, in his secure hold, again. The thoughts of last night never left my head or my dreams. In my dreams is where I hold on to the only memories I have of my mother, and even there they’re harder and harder to see. I started to freak out when Aiden said that I have my mother’s eyes, to think that I actually do have something of my mother’s. The only thing that brought me back from a full on call the paddy wagon panic attack was Aiden twirling my hair. My mother used to do that to me all the time, it was something that I loved. I was only ten when she died from ALS. The good memories, the ones before she got sick, are sometimes hard to bring up over the memories of her in her hospice bed. “
Be a good girl and listen to Aunt Molly,
” she said. Those were the only words that kept me sane and living in Aunt Molly’s house until I was eighteen.
“What are you afraid of?”
her nurse, Ginger, asked her. My mother was afraid of dying. I was afraid of her dying, too. Back then, I loved my Aunt Molly, but I wanted my mommy.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to breathe,”
my mother said. I was past afraid, because I had already stopped breathing as I listened to their conversation.
“I’m afraid it will hurt,”
she said next. I couldn’t imagine anything hurting more than the hurt in my heart as it shattered in my chest. In that moment, I almost thought that dying would be easier.
“My daughter is too young, and my sister isn’t capable, I’m afraid of being alone,
” she said. Standing there by the doorway listening to her talk, I was no longer too young, my innocence was lost. She was wrong though, she wasn’t alone. Ginger stayed with her until her very last breath holding her hand the entire time. And I was there too, just outside the door. Those were the last words my mother said, ‘I’m afraid of being alone.’