My Almost Ex Page 17

  “No, remember when Martha fell over and broke her hip? Now we all have to suffer because of her ‘little problem.’” Dori uses air quotes.

  If we do this again, I’m smuggling in a flask.

  “Poor Martha,” I say.

  “She walks three miles a day now. That new hip gave her new life,” Dori says.

  “And rehab,” Earl leans over and whispers in my ear.

  “How’s everyone doing?” Lucy comes by, putting her hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek.

  When she stands straight, Dori and Grandma have hearts in their eyes. Okay, I might too.

  “I’d like you to find me some alcohol, and Earl would like to lodge a complaint that the instructor isn’t stripping,” I say.

  “Earl!” Dori scolds.

  “I’m a man. I haven’t seen real live titties in years.”

  My body shivers—and not in a good way.

  Lucy puts her hand on his shoulder and leans in close. “Let’s use our inside voices. We don’t want to scare our guest.”

  “Sorry, Lucy,” Earl says. “Sometimes those two are so judgmental.”

  “I hear ya,” I say.

  Lucy squeezes my shoulder before continuing around the room. For a moment, I’m able to push all the noise around me somewhere else and zone in on my drawing. But I don’t draw mountains or trees or a sunset with glistening snow. Instead, I draw a woman—my woman. From memory. It’s her smile that captivates me, and I use charcoal to shade in my work, not about to add a speck of paint.

  They call for a break because the residents can’t sit on the stools too long without their ankles swelling.

  “You should put her in a bikini,” Earl says.

  “This is a PG class.” I turn the picture around during break so no one can see it. Although I’m a little terrified that Earl is going to beat off to my wife tonight regardless of whether I put a bikini on her or not.

  The staff set up some cookies, coffee, and tea. It’s a thankless job and the residents all complain, asking for decaf and sugar-free options because otherwise they’ll be up all night and their blood sugar will rise.

  Dori distracts Lucy before I can get to her, and Grandma blocks me into a corner.

  “I think it’s great that you found some forgiveness for Lucy. I found her at The Grind today, trying different coffees. What’s with this old Lucy, new Lucy crap?” she whispers.

  “She’s just trying to find herself, that’s all.” I stuff my hands in my pockets.

  She pats my cheek. “Well, I’m proud of you for stepping out of your own way. Your grandfather would be so proud of the man you’ve become.”

  “Thanks, Grandma. Hopefully I’m not the center of embarrassment again in Sunrise Bay.”

  She glances over her shoulder at Lucy. “Don’t tell her—because there was nothing wrong with her before—but I like the new her. She holds her shoulders higher. She looks like she’s in charge of her destiny now.” She grabs my shirt sleeve and turns me toward the sweets table. She stacks some cookies in a napkin. “You take these home for you and Lucy.”

  “We don’t need any cookies.”

  “Who doesn’t love something sweet before bedtime? They’ll just go to waste with all the diabetics around here.” She puts them in my hands and nudges for me to hide them.

  “Where do you expect me to put them?”

  “In your pocket. Hurry, here comes Ivy and she’s a stickler for the rules. No food is supposed to leave the premises. But my fees pay for these treats, so it shouldn’t matter if I give them to my grandson.”

  “Um…” I put them behind my back.

  Ivy smiles at me, checking over the station. “Are y’all having fun?”

  “The best.” Grandma smiles way too big to not be suspicious.

  After Ivy walks away, I say, “I’m pretty sure Ivy saw that I’m hiding something, and I don’t think she’ll care if I eat some cookies.”

  She waves me off with a smile. “They’re different when the families aren’t here.”

  “Okay, that’s cryptic and scary. Maybe clarify that? You’re safe here, right?”

  “Oh yeah, they’re nice. Plus, we’re not feeble. Half of us have canes. We’d revolt if they weren’t. Now I gotta smuggle these to Lucy before we start up again.”

  I watch Grandma walk over to Lucy as though she’s doing a drug deal with stolen cookies. Dori actually turns around to act like the lookout. It’s so comical I can’t help but laugh. Lucy just puts them in her purse and says thank you.

  Grandma has a point. Maybe that’s what it is with Lucy—she’s holding herself differently. Not that she lacked self-esteem before, but she’s almost like, ‘Take me as I am, and I don’t care if you like it or not.’

  I know I sure as hell like it.

  We’re midway through the second half of the drawing night when a lady with a name tag that says Mrs. Pierce drags me down into the vacant chair next to her.

  “I’ve always thought it was adorable how you did this for him. I heard the gossip. You know Ethel’s always playing her granddaughter’s gossip news radio station here. You lost your memory?”

  I nod, feeling weird discussing this with someone I don’t know.

  “Yeah, I wondered why these nights just stopped abruptly. It all makes sense now.”

  I tilt my head. “What makes sense?”

  Mrs. Pierce’s painting is almost an identical replica of the instructor’s, except she’s added little details like a glow around the moon and the flurries of snow aren’t just dots.

  “Are you an artist?” I ask.

  She laughs. “Well, you really did lose your memory then.”

  I frown. “So I knew that?”

  She laughs again and pushes up her dark glasses. “Yeah, you did. We talked all the time about…” She nods toward Adam.

  “We did?”

  She leans closer. “His love of drawing. That’s why you started organizing these nights. To get him to draw. You don’t remember that, huh?”

  I try to make sense of what she’s suggesting, but why would I organize art nights at the retirement home so that Adam could draw? If he wanted to draw, he could have done it at home. I didn’t have to drag him here.

  “Lucy dear, will you see me back to my room?” Mrs. Pierce announces loudly.

  Adam’s gaze finds mine from across the way. He starts to rise, but I wave to tell him to sit down.

  “Just get Ivy to help you, Iris,” Earl says. “The girl doesn’t want to see all your fancy things.”

  Iris stands and grabs the cane from next to her. “Shut up, you old fool.” She points her cane at him.

  I bite my lip to stop from laughing, and Adam shakes his head across the room.

  We leave the room as the complaints start about how their trees don’t look like trees and someone’s mountains have no peaks.

  Mrs. Pierce walks with purpose, and we get to her room down the hall. Earl was right, fancy is an understatement for her room. You’d think she brought in a decorator. Everything looks elegant and expensive. But it’s her walls that amaze me. Paintings and drawings and sculpted art, every piece more beautiful than the last.

  “Sit down.” She goes to her fridge.

  The great thing about Northern Lights is that it enables the residents to have apartments of their own, but the residence keeps them busy with extracurriculars.

  She returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses, all the while walking with her cane.

  “Oh, I’m not sure if I should drink. They’re probably expecting me back.”

  “Suit yourself.” She pours herself a glass of wine and sits in an ugly recliner instead of her gorgeous couch. “This was my Erwin’s.” She pats the chair’s arm in a loving way. “He passed three years ago now.” She points around the room. “You see all this? He said I could do whatever I wanted, he just wanted his recliner. So now it’s the only seat I sit in. He was right to dig it out of the trash all the times I tried to throw it out.”


  “I can see that.”

  She sips the wine and places the bottle closer to me than her—probably as an invitation if I change my mind. “Since it’s really only you and me who know this, I figured we should get away from all those ears. They act like they can’t hear, but believe me, they turn those hearing aids up when they think someone’s got gossip.” She eyes me and nods.

  I lean in. “Okay, what do only we know?”

  “You came to Northern Lights about four years ago and said you were Ethel’s granddaughter by marriage. Anyone who gets us off their hands is a saint to the staff, so when you volunteered to host a drawing class twice a month, they took you up on the offer.”

  “But I did for a reason other than to just be nice?”

  When Ethel and Dori cornered me at The Grind, I thought maybe old Lucy wasn’t as bad as I thought. She volunteered at a retirement center, so how selfish could she really be? But maybe I was wrong.

  Mrs. Pierce shakes her head and sips her wine, leaving me in suspense. I’m about to grab that glass out of her hand and down it so she can fill me in on what the hell is going on.

  “It took about a year before you trusted me enough to tell me. Your beloved didn’t come with you one night and that spurred our conversation. Sure, you’d compliment all my paintings, but we never really talked. Plus, Ethel and Dori can be possessive, you know? I want to say, ‘Hey, you have, like, thirty grandchildren between the two of you, ever hear of sharing?’”

  My shoulders scrunch. Mrs. Pierce must not have any family around here.

  “Right now, Ethel’s probably trying to figure out why you’re not back yet.” She glances at the door as though that’s a real threat.

  “Okay, so why did I plan these nights if not just to be nice?”

  She stares at me long and hard. “You did them for him.”

  “Him?”

  “Your beloved. Adam. You said he used to love to draw and it had slowly stopped once you got married. That you never wanted him to stop something he loved, and this was a way to make sure that twice a month, he did it, even if you had to drag him kicking and screaming.”

  I pour myself a glass of wine and guzzle it. “Seriously?”

  “Uh huh.” Mrs. Pierce pats my leg. “Oh, when I told my Erwin that, he put his hand on mine and said, ‘Those two will make it.’”

  I agree, that’s what love is all about, wanting the other person to be happy above all else. Loving them so much to allow them to have the things they want no matter the sacrifice you have to make for yourself. “Why didn’t I just tell him that?”

  I think of the pact I made with Adam that we’d be truthful with one another from this point forward. How could I not say to him, “Hey, you need to draw, so I’m setting this up?”

  “Because you wanted him to love it and not feel obligated to do it. You were releasing his spirit, his talent. You know those of us in the creative world don’t like strict timelines to do what we want when someone else dictates. It’s a shame he never returned the phone call from my old partner.”

  I’m so lost in thought, I almost missed what she said. “What phone call?”

  “We sent a few of his drawings to my old partner in LA. Man, that horse sure did a number on you, sweetie.”

  “And Adam never returned the call?”

  She shakes her head. “No. He’s talented. I mean, I’m far removed from that world now, but I like his stuff.” She pours herself another glass of wine. “Now you need to go. I don’t need to hear it from Ethel in the morning.”

  She nudges my feet with her cane, and I hop off the couch.

  I walk around her glass coffee table and I’m about to leave, but instead, I walk over to her and hug her. “Thank you.”

  She pats my back. “You’re welcome. Now go.”

  I walk out of her room feeling lighter. She has no idea the gift she just gave me. I close the door and take a moment to take in exactly what she said. Maybe the old Lucy wasn’t so bad. She obviously loved Adam a helluva lot to endure two nights a month here. I push away from the door to walk down the hall and spot Adam standing there.

  “I was just coming to find you,” he says.

  “Sorry. Is time up?” We meet in the middle of the hall and his hands land on my hips and he pins me to the wall.

  “I’ve wanted to get you alone all night.” His lips land on mine and he kisses me until I’m breathless. “That’s just an appetizer until later tonight.” He winks, takes my hand, and guides me toward the room. “What did Mrs. Pierce want?”

  “Just to see her back.” I hate the way the lie tastes, but I need to soak this in some more. Allow me to see how much drawing means to Adam.

  “They love you,” he says.

  We go into the activity room and almost everyone is packing up, putting their paintbrushes in the sink and laying their artwork on the drying racks.

  “I’m beat. Thanks, Lucy.” Dori hugs me.

  Earl throws his canvas in the trash. “Garbage. Call me when you get the naked woman.”

  I pick it up and put it on the drying rack. Every piece is art.

  Ethel hugs us both. “Don’t crush the cookies,” she whispers.

  After I say goodbye to the instructor, Adam is lingering over his own canvas. I walk over to him and he slides his arm behind my back.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “You don’t remember, but this was kind of a special moment between us for years.”

  I look at him. “What was?”

  “Well, I don’t draw what everyone else does. I draw what I want, and you always asked me to surprise you.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait,” I say.

  He flips around the canvas and I sink into his hold. He drew me with my hand on my cheek and my hair down, framing my face. But I have a love-drunk smile on my face.

  “I love it,” I say before kissing his cheek.

  “Good. Then we’ll take it home.”

  Home has never sounded so good coming from his mouth.

  After we clean the brushes and I say goodbye to Ivy and the other helpers, we turn off the lights to the room and walk out of Northern Lights Retirement Center hand in hand.

  “Do you ever regret not going to school for art?” I ask.

  He sighs. “Don’t go rethinking all my life choices again. I told you, I’m happy.”

  “But it’s not too late, you know. You could still do it.”

  He opens the passenger side truck door and kisses my nose. “I like my job. I’m happy where I am.”

  He shuts the door, and when he slides into his seat, he puts the picture in the back seat.

  “It’s just a suggestion,” I say.

  He starts the truck. “I will say this. I haven’t drawn a thing in over a year. That felt good tonight. But what came out when I put pencil to paper is the most important thing in my life right now, and that’s you.”

  “But, Adam…”

  He shakes his head, putting the truck in gear. “Don’t overthink this. I was never meant to be an artist. It’s just a hobby I enjoy.”

  Then he pulls out of the parking lot, and there seems to be a finality to the conversation I don’t like. Is this why I set up the art nights behind his back? God, please tell me I didn’t leave him so he’d go be an artist in LA and we lost an entire year for nothing?

  As good as things are between us, I know I wouldn’t have left without a good reason.

  It’s been a month since Lucy and I decided to be together again, and things are going great. I’ve yet to sleep in the master bedroom and she hasn’t pushed me, although I’ll find her in there sometimes, reading her journals or staring at pictures of us. Not a lot of memories have surfaced since Marla ambushed Lucy at their house and she recalled our wedding. For the most part, I’ve made my peace with the fact that we may never find out what caused her to leave, but that’s only because she’s a different Lucy now. The same still, but different. More open.

  We’re at my brot
hers’ brewery today and they’re telling her how they’re going to name a beer after her.

  “It’s going to be called Lucy Takes Flight. We’ll give them five different kinds of beer in small glasses.” Jed places the setup in front of Lucy.

  She glances at me before saying to Jed, “You’re going to name something after me?”

  “You’re an ass,” I say, shaking my head.

  His forehead wrinkles. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The name?” I raise my eyebrows. “Lucy Takes Flight.” He and Lucy still look at me confused. “Referencing how she skipped town…”

  “Jesus it’s called that because it’s a flight of beer, you idiot.” He shakes his head at me.

  “Oh, sorry.” Lucy’s frowning at me and I feel like an ass for assuming the worst.

  “Anyway, moving on,” Jed says. “We had Mr. Sanders make wooden planks for the flights.”

  Her hand falls over her heart and she glances at me and back at my brothers. “That’s so sweet!” She leans over and hugs them both.

  “It’s going to be the hit of the season,” Jed says and points at the first glass. “So you have our Razzle Dazzle, Naked Digger, Melting Heart, Limp Donkey, and No Stout For You.”

  “I think this is just their way of not making a beer for the season,” I say, crossing my arms.

  “Well, we toyed with Minderaser but didn’t think it would sell. When Lucy came in to figure out which beer she liked best, the lightbulb went off,” Cade says.

  “Technically Molly thought of it,” Jed says.

  Cade rolls his eyes. It feels like he wants to say more but doesn’t. I’m not sure what that’s about, but if Jed’s messing around with Molly, heads are gonna roll and Nikki’s gonna be the one holding the ax.

  “I love it.” Lucy picks up Melting Heart.

  “That’s ours. Mine and Presley’s.” Cade smiles.

  “It is not. It’s from the duo night,” Jed says with a scowl.

  “I made that beer for her, it’s ours.”

  My brothers walk away, bickering about who the beer belongs to.

  “They’ll never stop fighting over who makes the best beer this place sells.” I nod toward the Melting Heart in her hand. “That was their best seller last year.”