My Always One Page 12

  Mom takes a breath and picks up her fork before stabbing a piece of her salad. “You did the right thing, Sami.”

  “I did the right thing too late.”

  “No, divorcing that man and possibly fighting over parental rights would have been too late. You made the right decision just in time.” She takes a bite of her salad.

  My appetite is gone as I look again at the invoice, the one that is typed on letterhead from Jack’s law firm. I look back up with new resolve. “He’s not getting away with this. You aren’t paying him a dime.”

  “I thought about calling him myself, but he’s a lawyer and I already know he doesn’t think very highly of me or your father.”

  Hearing her say that hurts more than if she were saying Jackson hated me.

  Mom went on, “I guess I’m afraid he’ll talk circles around me and somehow make me feel responsible.”

  “Mom, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry about what Jack thinks. He isn’t worth you fretting. And I’m serious about the dress. I saw the price tag and I know the cost of alteration. I’ll transfer that amount into your and Dad’s account this afternoon.” I lean back and stare some more at the invoice. My mind wrestles with my emotions.

  I am pissed.

  No, I was pissed when I found Jack in our bed with Ellen.

  Now, I’m full-out furious.

  “What does he think he can do, take you to court?”

  “I would assume he thinks we’ll pay to keep him quiet.”

  “What the hell” —I lean forward and lower my voice— “is there for him to say?”

  “I don’t want to worry your dad, but the only way we could pay what he’s asking is to cash out some of our retirement.”

  “You’re not doing that. I’ll talk to him.”

  I look at my phone. After the incident in my condo when he gave me back his key, I blocked his number. I have no idea where he’s living. He’d sold his place when he moved in with me. He didn’t have a best friend with a place to sleep over unless he was staying with Ellen.

  I start to nod.

  “What are you thinking?” Mom asks.

  “I’m thinking that I blocked Jack’s number. I have no idea where he’s staying” —a smile came to my lips— “but I know where he works. I know the senior partner and I know...” I wasn’t going to go to the subject of Ellen.

  Mom wipes her lips with the napkin. “Millie mentioned another woman.” She looks at me through her lashes. “Don’t be mad at your sister. She thought I knew.”

  The air leaves my lungs. “I didn’t want you to know.”

  “You were protecting him?”

  “No, I was protecting me.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “If Millie told you, then you know I walked in on him and that woman. Doing. It. At. My. Condo.”

  Mom nods.

  “Does Dad know?”

  “No. Your father is the gentlest of men except when it comes to—”

  “Zombies,” I offer.

  Mom grins. “His children.”

  I sit taller.

  “I just want to know, Sami, did you call off the wedding because of what he did or because of what you and Marshal did?”

  I press my lips together. “I canceled the wedding because when Jack did what he did, it was a slap in the face, a wake-up call. I called Marshal because I needed my friend. As I drove to Marshal’s place, I saw my future all play out, Mom. I saw me in a big house, in the right neighborhood, with three kids, and Jack off screwing a secretary, neighbor, housekeeper, or maybe the nanny.”

  It’s cleansing and cathartic to be this open and honest with Mom and with myself.

  “I didn’t see my forever or my always. I knew that night that Jackson would never be either of those people for me and going through with the wedding would have not given me what I’ve always wanted.” I swallow again, tasting the salty emotions. “He lied about France. I opened an email and saw our honeymoon reservations. They were for New York. We had reservations at a swanky hotel and tickets to shows. I’m sure it would have been great, but it wasn’t France.

  “He’s a liar. That’s who he is and who he will always be. I saw the future. I imagined that each time he would cheat that he’d bring me a piece of jewelry or take me somewhere expensive.” My head shakes. “That’s not how I want to spend my always.”

  Mom reaches across the table and covers my hand. “Sami, you made the right choice. May I ask...what’s happening with Marshal?”

  The sadness and frustration disappear at the mention of his name. “He’s my always, just maybe not like I dreamed. Marshal is...” —I inhale as I look through the windows to the sidewalk— “like Mrs. Jefferson’s dog.”

  “LS?” Mom asks quizzically.

  “He’s cute and dependable, but I know him and eventually, he’ll shit on the kitchen floor.”

  Mom’s eyebrows knit together. “Remember that book I read you when you were little. You and your sisters and brother used to giggle the whole time.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Everyone Poops.”

  I chuckle. “I remember that.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  I give her question some thought. There are too many answers. I could say spiders or mice. I could say having someone cheat on me again. But my greatest fear surpasses all of those things. “Losing my best friend.”

  Mom smiles. “Are the two of you honest with one another?”

  “Always.”

  “Don’t let that end because you’ve added...benefits.”

  “Mom.” My eyes widen.

  “Oh, Sami, I’m old, but I’m not that old. I suspected when you came to the house—after he kissed you. Honey, that was the kind of kiss that melts a girl’s panties. It definitely wasn’t a friendly peck on the cheek.”

  Warmth creeps up my neck to my cheeks as I recall the kiss.

  “But at that moment, I also wondered if what I was seeing was an act for Jackson’s benefit.” I start to tell her it wasn’t, but she goes on, “And then you returned from your walk.” She shakes her head as her smile grows. “The two of you looked at Dad and me like you did after I caught you smoking in the old boathouse.”

  I clear my throat.

  “Oh, funny story.”

  “Tell me,” I say, happy for the change of subject.

  “Well, it’s more like strange.” She grins. “That very same night the two of you went for a walk, on the Neighborhood App, someone reported hearing strange noises coming from the boathouse. They called the police, but by the time the police arrived” —she shrugs— “the boathouse was empty.”

  I reach for my sandwich and bring it toward my lips. “That is strange.”

  Marshal

  * * *

  I stare down in disbelief at the paper Sami has just handed me. When I look up, my gaze meets her beautiful green one. “What a fucking asshole.”

  She shrugs as she settles on the couch at her place. “We knew that.”

  When I received the text from her this afternoon asking me to come over, I wasn’t expecting a conversation about her ex. I could say I wasn’t expecting anything, but that would be a lie. And even now, seeing her wearing soft shorts, a tank top, and I would guess no bra, I could let my mind wander with possibilities. The thing is that I’m Sami’s best friend first. The benefits are secondary. Right now, she needs a friend.

  As I study her expression, I see the small lines near her downcast eyes. Even after she kicked his ass to the curb, her ex is still a source of her angst. My stomach twists with a memory, and I face the fact that I failed her. “Sami, I’m sorry. I should have said more.”

  “More about what?”

  “That night we were all at the same bar...remember downtown...The Rooftop on the top floor of the Marriott?”

  “Yeah. Do you know I walked two blocks in those ridiculous shoes and that short dress just so I wouldn’t valet park his precious car?”

  I remember the night and the snow beyond the windows. “There had to be six
inches of snow on the ground.”

  “Well,” she says, “thankfully, the sidewalks were clear.”

  I sit next to her and reach out, squeezing her knee. “That night, before you got to the bar—”

  “I was probably trekking along a freezing cold sidewalk as salt pellets crunched under my high-heeled shoes.”

  A grin comes to my lips. “Probably. Can you shut up a second and let me talk?”

  Sami’s head shakes. “Bossy.”

  “You like it.”

  That changes her sad expression to a grin. “Sometimes.”

  “Anyway, that night, while you were exploring the frigid streets of Grand Rapids in totally inappropriate hiking clothes...”

  “And shoes.”

  I inhale. “...and shoes, I saw Jackson and watched from the other side of the bar.”

  Her brow furrows. “Watched what?”

  “I don’t know for sure. And that’s why I didn’t say anything, but if I went with my gut, he was flirting with the blonde.”

  “Ugh.” Sami stands and paces around her living room. “That blonde is her. That’s Ellen.” She spins. “She probably isn’t a real blonde, but I didn’t get close enough to take a look while she was in my bed.”

  I let that comment pass as I move forward. “I went over to him. I guess I wanted him to know I saw him.”

  Sami wraps her arms around her torso as her expression clouds.

  Standing, I walk to her.

  I can’t stop myself. It’s as if Sami’s a fucking magnet, and I’m helpless but to obey the laws of force drawing me to her. I don’t stop until I reach out and wrap my arms around her soft slender body and pull her against my chest. The scent of strawberries whiffs through the air as I inhale.

  “I was such a stupid idiot.” Her words are muffled against my chest.

  “No, I should have said something.”

  Sami leans away and as her gaze meets mine, she slaps my arm. “You should have. Why didn’t you?”

  “Ow.” She couldn’t physically hurt me if she tried. Okay, she did when we were five but not now. Now, I’m only crying wolf to see her smile. And it worked.

  “That’s why,” I say as I run the pad of my finger over her cheek. “Your smile. It lights up a fucking room. I’ve seen you happy, and I’ve seen you sad. Never, and I mean never, do I want to be the cause of your sadness. And I think when I saw him with her, I didn’t want to say anything, on the off chance I was wrong.”

  “You, Marshal Michaels, considered the possibility that you could be wrong? Wow.”

  My expression turns sober. “I wasn’t, Sami. I knew that, but I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. I saw how controlling he was, and I didn’t want you to be put in a position where you had to choose. Maybe I didn’t just consider I could be wrong, I considered I could be right and it would cause problems between us. Fuck, I couldn’t bear to lose my best friend.”

  She wraps her arms around my torso and lays her head against my chest. “I don’t know what I would have said. It would have hurt coming from you because you’re the one person I know has always told me the truth.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. Seeing Jackson for the ass he is was something I had to do. I don’t even think you could have gotten through to me.”

  “I’m still sorry, Sami. He should be fucking dust in your rearview mirror, not still causing you and your parents heartache.”

  “He lies. He says what he thinks will help him.” She sighs. “Remember what he said about the honeymoon, in Mom and Dad’s kitchen?”

  “France.”

  Her head shakes. “It wasn’t true. He’d booked a week in New York.” She looks up at me. “I need ideas, Marsh. Come on, you and I defeated the stormtroopers every night before the sun set. We waged battles on our bicycles against make-believe bad guys.” Her emerald stare shines through her lashes. “This time the bad guy is real. He’s a prick with a tiny dick who thinks he has the power and that he’s better than everyone else. He’s taking his embarrassment at my canceling the wedding out on my parents.”

  “It goes without saying that your parents aren’t paying that.”

  “I’m sure that Jackson knows that legally, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I know him. He’s just trying to get in one last jab.”

  “Tiny?” I ask.

  Sami soft-punches my back. “Focus.”

  “You said tiny.”

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to share details.”

  “I don’t want details on what he did with it, but you could elaborate on your description. Mushroom head? Weird kink or bend? Go on.”

  Shaking her head, she steps away. “I’m pretty sure that every man in the whole world will seem tiny from now on.”

  Friends with benefits means we are willing to accept that our friend will most likely move on to someone else. However, as more seconds tick by, I’m having trouble accepting that fate. While I’m happy to be the new gold standard, I’m not a fan of any other dick—big or tiny—getting near Sami.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  “What, Marsh? No comeback about how I could add that testimonial to your website?”

  “One thing at a time,” I say, reaching for her hand. “How do we stop tiny-dick?”

  “I’ve been racking my brain ever since Mom gave me that paper. That’s why I called my always-and-forever partner in crime. I mean, if we could defeat make-believe bad guys on the daily, together we can come up with a plan.”

  This is my Sami, the one who never gives up, who is always thinking. “Let’s go get some dinner and keep working on this.”

  She looks down. “I’m not exactly dressed.”

  As I scan from her head to her painted toenails, my grin broadens. It’s as my gaze lingers on her spectacular tits that her nipples harden, tenting the tank top.

  “Jeez, Marsh, stop. You’re...” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “What? I’m just looking at you.”

  “Yeah, but your eyes are all molten and simmering.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “It means we have a problem to work out, and with just one look, I want to forget that problem, forget dinner, and go give my new bed another workout.”

  I tug her hand toward the bedroom. “Okay.”

  “No. Food, sabotage tiny-dick, and then sex.”

  “Is the order of operations set or” —I try flashing her one of my famous grins— “is there some wiggle room?” I almost mention that her little itinerary combined with the thought of her wiggling has me hard, but since she shook her head, picked up her purse, and is headed for the door, I think the part of me that’s growing harder will have to wait.

  “Fine,” I say, “You drive a hard bargain.”

  It isn’t until we’re nearly halfway through our sushi that something she said earlier hits me. I lay down my chopsticks. “Wait, what did you say earlier about the honeymoon?”

  She dips her California roll in soy sauce and looks up at me. “He lied about France. He wouldn’t tell me what he had planned. It was supposed to be a surprise. But I accidentally opened an email of his and saw the itinerary. Like I said, he had a week booked in New York.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “How did you accidentally open his email?”

  Her eyes open wide. “Shit. He programmed his password into my laptop one time when we were on a weekend getaway. His laptop was out in the car and he had to reply to...” She starts nodding and bouncing in her chair. “Oh shit. I have access to his email.”

  It takes all my self-restraint to keep my eyes on hers and not at the way her free-range tits are bouncing beneath that tank top. “Do you think he’s changed the password?”

  “If he’s smart...” Her smile grows.

  “Right.”

  “Hopefully, he’s forgotten that he did it.”

  Just before I stuff the last roll of sushi in my mouth, I say, “Let’s
go back to your place and see what we can find.”

  Sami

  * * *

  I’m so excited to find out if we have access to Jackson’s emails that I tug on Marshal’s hand, hurrying him from the parking lot to my condo. “Hurry.”

  “I thought you liked it slow,” Marshal responds as his long strides catch up with and pass me until he’s the one in the lead.

  Grinning, I shake my head.

  I’m not sure if I never noticed all of Marshal’s sexual innuendos, or if I did and they didn’t used to affect me. Either way, I love how comfortable we are with one another and how easy it is to be together. There was a part of me that was afraid sex would change things.

  Maybe it has changed things.

  In a good way.

  Once we’re in my condo, Marshal follows me to my bedroom.

  “Hey, why are we in here?” he asks as his eyebrows dance. “I know. You’ve decided that the bed workout comes before taking down tiny-dick?”

  “No, there’ll be no coming before taking down tiny-dick.”

  Marshal smiles, snaps his fingers, and points to me. “You’re good.”

  “I told you I was.” I sit down at my desk and open my laptop.

  “Where were you?”

  I crane my neck to see Marshal’s face. “When? What are you talking about?”

  “Where were you when he used your laptop?”

  I let out a long sigh. “Holland.”

  “The country?”

  A smile curls my lips. “No, Michigan.”

  “Whoa, big spender,” Marshal says as he sits on the edge of my bed. “Did you fly or take the thirty-minute drive.”

  As my computer is coming to life, I think back. “It was a spontaneous getaway. And it was tulip time.” I smile. “We stayed at this quaint bed-and-breakfast. Actually, we went there on multiple occasions. The couple who owns it is so nice. I think Jackson did some legal work for them.”

  Marshal lies back on the mattress, his knees bent and feet still on the floor. I can’t help but notice the way his blue jeans fit, how as he lifts his hands over his head, his shirt rides up exposing that sexy V that some men have. Turning back to my computer, I remember what I said earlier, how all men would pale compared to Marshal.