Page 12 of Scotch: Unraveled

“Nice complex,” he says. “Expensive.”

“Expensive is right. But they had a studio available and I needed a place to live. I’d like to eventually buy a house.”

The waitress drops our appetizer between us and it’s the only reason I can think of to pull my eyes from his, and I need to. My head is so messed up being here, sitting across from him, waiting for our dinners, a scenario that played out so many times in our two years together.

My heart feels like its racing a million goddam miles a minute.

After I scoop some of the artichoke dip onto my plate and shove a packed chip into my mouth, that’s when I chance a look at Rory and the look on his face rips a hole in every one of my defense mechanisms. The ones I’d built around my heart since the day Rory crushed it so thoroughly. The ones I kept in place in case I ever ran into him again, and the ones I kept in place to keep other men at arm’s length. He knows what I’m thinking without need for anymore words.

Maybe I should’ve paid better attention to eating. Without chewing near enough, I swallow too soon and start to choke on the bite. I sip on my water to help force the food down while Rory shoots out of his seat to pat me on the back. Macie startles from the sudden movement shaking the table and scrunches her face up to cry. Up until now both girls had moved between smiling and gurgling, bouncing with baby fist pumps and kicky-legs each time the waiter approached the table to droopy-eyes and nodding off with the lull in activity.

Each contact from his hand burns a path of embarrassment straight through me, I feel so stupid. They could shove me in a lighthouse to guide ships home, I’m lit up so brightly, and I push up from the table.

“Excuse me,” I manage to choke out before I fast-walk to the ladies’ room. I seem to be having these moments a lot lately—running from the man I used to love.

Once I hit the restroom, slamming and locking the door behind me, a horrible sob escapes my throat. I knew when I bolted from the table is wasn’t about embarrassment. It’s what it was always about, what it always will be about. Rory seeing to my needs. Taking care of me. Being a good man and a good father. God, I’m being such a romance movie girl right now. But he hurt me so badly. Coming here was a mistake, but if I go back out there like this, he’ll know how bad he gutted me when he took his love away. He doesn’t get that from me. Never again.

If I’d meant to him what he’d meant to me, he’d have come after me all those years ago. He’d have held me in his arms and told me how he couldn’t imagine a life without me in it. But he didn’t do any of that. And I know he never would. Now he’s got the girls to love and protect. Club women to scratch his itches and beautiful baby girls to lavish his love upon.

Okay—so, I have to pull myself together. Calm down. Put a smile on my face. It’s just dinner with an old friend. That’s it. Even I can do dinner with an old friend. It’ll be fine. I bend over the sink to splash cold water on my face. Me and Rory, and two beautiful girls. This was my dream eight years ago. But the more cold water I splash on my face, the more slow, cleansing breaths I take, the better I feel.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Just a minute,” I call, then check my face in the mirror before I go back to the table.

Life took us un different directions. Remember that, Frankie. This is two old friends catching up.Feeling ready, I unlatch the lock and throw the door open to see Rory holding the girls.

“Christ, woman. I thought ya were dying in here.”

“No, I’m fine. Just embarrassed that I can’t hold my artichoke dip,” I reply, trying to laugh it off, grabbing Mollie from his arms. I couldn’t have felt any stupider standing here if I were naked wearing a crown of chicken feathers on my head.

“Yeah, well—yar cut off, then.”

“Come on, princess,” I say to the baby. “Let’s go eat steak.”

We walk back to the table and I’m able to get through the rest of the meal without being a spazz. The food tastes melt-in-your-mouth incredible, and so long as I keep myself removed slightly, our conversation flows.

Again, I do my best to avoid looking at him, shooting my gaze over his shoulder when I talk or fussing with the girls when he asks a question. But being back to this is better than being a blubbering mess.

At the end of the meal while he pays, I begin to bundle the girls in their jackets and hook them in their carriers. Rory said this was a ‘thank you’ meal, so I don’t even offer to pay. Then, once the waitress returns with his credit card and receipt, we’re done. I’ll see him when he brings the girls to daycare, of course. And Ihadoffered to help him fix up the nursery, but that needs to be the extent of it.

“If you follow me back to the daycare, I’ll help you load that crib. You’ll want two, but it’s big enough to sleep both girls for now. Then you can get off the floor,” I tell him as we walk out to our cars. We pause so I can hold the door open for him as he’s carrying both girls again. Then, once we’re in the parking lot, I take Mollie’s carrier for him so he can fish his keys out and wait as he unlocks and opens the door.

Rory hefts Macie in first, buckling the baby securely in the back. This man… he blows my mind. He didn’t even have enough diapers that second day when he brought the girls in by himself. Now he’s buckling a baby in the backseat like he’s been doing it for years. “I can’t tell ya how much I appreciate this,” he says, and I swat his words away like they’re nothing.

Then, because I’m a train wreck of a human being around this man, I hear myself saying, “Well, it’s hard to entertain those club ladies with the babies on the floor.”

His eyes, I swear, grow three sizes as he chokes back an uncomfortable gasp before they go soft on me, crinkling at the corners. I guess neither of us expected that to come out of my mouth.

“Frankie,” he says, his voice softens, too and he takes a step forward, lifting his free hand to—I don’t know—touch me, maybe?

“Whelp.” I cut him off, shoving Mollie’s carrier into his hands between us. “I’ll see you back at the daycare.” I feel completely stupid and overwhelmed by all that is Rory being so close, saying my name in that soft tone I got used to all those years ago. It killed me when I no longer heard it. To hear it now, it’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like I’m not really here right now with the man who shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces, like I’m only watching from the sidelines. I spin to run to my car like the winner that I am—not.

It takes me a couple minutes to collect myself, sitting behind the steering wheel with my palms pressed to my eyes, shaking. Why? Why do I still let him get to me? This one was completely on me, too. All he did was offer a friendly dinner. I’m the one who can’t let go of things. I kind of hate myself right now.

I start the car, reverse out of my spot and pull out onto the road with Rory and the girls in their big fancy truck following close behind me. He’s not speeding. He can’t because I’m not speeding and I’m right in front of him. He uses his turn signal; I see that too. My eyes should be fixed on the road ahead of me not watching him in the rearview, but then I’d miss out and I don’t want to miss out on one second of Rory while we still have this time together. Once we get back to the daycare, he goes back to being a daycare dad and nothing more. I owe myself this last little bit of happy.

With him following all the applicable traffic laws, what I don’t understand is why when we’re about a block from the center, does a pair of red and blue lights flash behind him?

---