Page 22 of Takeover

“I see you like kids. That was the most surprising thing about you the day we met.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I remember that day, and I was nothing if not pleasant.” She forces a smile before she shoves two more dumplings into her mouth.

“Birthdays haven’t always been the best for me either. My ex-wife served me with divorce papers on my thirty-sixth.”

“Ouch,” she says.

“And she promised Vincent she would be at his last birthday party, but she was a no show. Claimed she got the days mixed up.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” She lets out a breath and finally looks at me. I don’t turn away from her dark eyes, and for the first time, there is no animosity.

“Thank you, Ethan, for doing this,” she says as she gestures at the food. “You’ve shown me more thought than my—” She stops mid-sentence and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to say thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know why, but I just like this kind of thing. I mean, I don’t want a fuss, but I like for the family to get together. And even though my mother is not the most reliable, and I know she doesn’t deserve it, I still want her here. But she’s never wanted to be here, and I need to accept that.” Unable to stop myself, I lay a hand on top of hers. I expect her to flinch or to pull her hand away, but she grabs onto both of my hands.

“That’s her loss, not yours. Remember that.” Her eyes fill up with tears, but she blinks them away. She sighs sadly and removes her hands from mine.

“It’s hard to remember that sometimes. I know how much my siblings, my dad, and evil stepmother love me. And I know in her own way my mother loves me too, and that I have to accept her for the person she is, not the person I want her to be, but it still fucks with my mind. Not the fact that she divorced my dad, but that she divorced us too. And no matter how well I did in school or at work, it didn’t matter to her.” She leans her head on the chair and exhales. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It must be the wine.”

“Must be, but I’m glad you are.”

“Maybe you’re not as jerky as I thought.”

“Maybe you’re not as bratty as I thought.”

She bumps her shoulder against my body and snorts. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re still not friends.”

“Look at me.” And to my surprise she does.

“I don’t want to be your friend.” The smile slips from her lips, but she doesn’t look away. I take my hand and stroke her cheek. Her mouth opens and she inhales. Without breaking the gaze, I run a finger across her full lips. Her pink tongue darts out and licks where I just touched, licking my finger in the process.

It’s my turn to exhale. I slowly start to inch closer to her lips. She doesn’t meet me halfway, but she doesn’t move away either. When I glide my hand to the base of her neck, I can feel her pulse under my fingertips, but just before our lips make contact, I hear Vincent’s loud giggle followed by heavy footsteps. In the second it takes me to turn around and look for my son, Tara has already jumped away from me, and the moment is lost.

16

Vickie:How was your interview?

Me:Not a good fit.

Alan: You’re not going to find another job with Dad, Tar. What’s wrong with BradCo?

Me: No thanks.

Vickie: She doesn’t trust herself around such hotness.

Me: Change of subject. Vick, are you coming over tonight?

Vickie: Can’t. Hot date tonight. Sexual walkabout has commenced. New year, new Vickie.

I slide my phone back into my pocket and walk down 34thStreet towards the Macys. It’s a cold day in early January, and a cruel gust of wind not only blows my hair all over my head, but it also makes me long for the sandy beaches of St. Thomas. It was a last-minute decision. On Thanksgiving night, after everyone had left, my sister suggested the Taylor Three take a vacation. The three of us flew to the island the day after Christmas and stayed until New Year’s Day.

The day after we arrived, my dad and Cheryl surprised us, and we had a wonderful family vacation. All thoughts of not having a job vanished, and we focused on our family. In fact, we only flew back because Vickie had to return to the classroom the day after the first of the new year and threatened Alan’s and my lives when we considered staying longer.

I made it a point not to think about Ethan and one of the worst Thanksgivings I’d ever had. The only one worse was the first one after our mother left. It was only a few short weeks later, and Dad not only burned the turkey, but Alan cut himself peeling potatoes and we spent hours in the emergency room waiting for him to get stitches. By the time we got home, everyone was tired and cranky. We ended up making ham sandwiches at the kitchen island. No one knows, but I cried myself to sleep that night.

I let out a breath of relief when I step inside the Macy’s, but once inside, my stomach growls reminding me I haven’t eaten yet today. As much as I tried to deny it, even to myself, I was nervous about this interview. I’ve only ever worked for my father, and the interview with him was a formality.

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