Page 31 of Love Bound

He stops gearing up for headbanging and holds very still, and then his eyes clear and he returns to himself. He relaxes a little, and as she does too, he turns to his mom and kisses her cheek. A little hard peck.

"You will work hard, very hard. I love you," she says calmly, slowly.

Watching her rocking him quietly in her arms, I realize she has probably never heard him say that to her.

Geo turns to Claire when he reaches for the pepper. "So tell me more about that horse."

"You mean Salty," pipes up Cory.

The evening feels normal. Like it’s normal to hang out with real people who know one another, who have history, who can laugh and drink and end up talking politics and gardening tips, wood stacking and wood stoves, hull scraping and hauls. Ralph turns out to be a ship captain who retired two years ago. I knew then, as he told some long tale of a harrowing storm and a nearly capsized ship, that the reason he hadn’t looked at me was because he wasn’t focused on the road. Ralph was still out on the sea. A storm. A haul. I found myself looking at his hands a lot. Gnarled, scarred, and missing a ring finger, the stub of which he rubbed occasionally with his thumb, he unconsciously made a speckled "O" with his hand by touching his thumb to the stump. Jackson, one of the guys from the office, a kid really, would probably love the guy. Jackson once told me he grew up on a lobster boat.

By now, Cory and Laurel are setting out the pies. Cory brings me the cheesecake. Devon announces that the coffee is done and we all clear our own plates, then the food, and lift our mugs for coffee or tea.

My mom's cheesecake is off the charts amazing, easy to make, and it’s gone fast. I’m oddly pleased that Claire has two small slices. Emily's fudge pecan pie is amazing. I feel I might have to loosen my belt. When I compliment her on it, she asks me about the roof. There’s a big blue tarp stapled to the roof strategically placed to protect the already thin and rotted sheathing from getting even damper. I had ripped a hole and was getting ready to do a patch job before winter set in.

"It's got a few places where water's seeped through," I tell her.

Geo, who’s sitting across from me and next to Claire, reaches for another slice of apple pie and asks, "Any more ideas around that ultrasound machine?"

Glancing at me, Claire shakes her head. "Nope. They're pretty expensive."

"And you're sure I can't help you out?" he says.

She sets down her pie fork. "No, Geo. No. You've done so much already. I'll figure this out."

So, she does need help with her clinic. She does need the money. The light from the candles leaves her face smooth and warm, and caught in the tendrils from her forehead, those tightly curled and soft locks throw gold into the air.

After dinner, both Russo sisters—Laurel and Devon—pull me aside and tell me privately how glad they are that I let the whole thing go. I nod, unable to enjoy my own altruism. They don't know that letting the land go means a small piece of me is gone as well. Geo gives me a hug, a quick hug because I pull back so fast, and Cory falls asleep on the couch, exhausted by his near tantrum and overloaded on tryptophan.

After clasping my pie dish in a hand towel, Claire hands it back to me clean and dry. I thank her for washing it, then turn and leave. I was the last to arrive and now I’m the first to go, just the way I like it.

The stars outside shine brilliantly, little asterisks of light, so bright their light dances on the water. Salt spray, cold and pungent, proves almost abrasive and I’m taken aback by how much ice the breeze carries. It’s scrubbing, cleaning, and the ocean crashes a little rough for the shallow bay. I slip the pie dish under my arm and stuff my hands into my pockets. I hear the horse nicker in the stable and think of him in there—in the dark, cold. Though his coat has grown thick and tufted in places he must feel this, this knife stab of cold. I walk out to the granite ledge pictured in the photo I saw, the flat piece between our places with the vein of quartz as thick as rope, and stand, looking at the dark sea.

“Life is for the living,” Nic always told me, and he tells me again when I’m home and talking about my evening over the phone.

His, "You think Allison would want to wreck a family business? This isn’t about you. This is about the vet and her family," comes in thin over a bad connection, and I begin to rethink my decision to call him. But he remains the strongest connection I have to the past, to her, and I know he’s right.

It’s the right thing to do. I just have to live with the idea of Allison's park not becoming a reality.

When he asks, "What about that vet?" with a note that tells me he's seen her, I start to tell him about the kiss on the stairwell.

"Back it up, man. She kissed you? Holy shit. I love her already."

"It was in the moment. I'm sure a bottle of wine served as a cooking companion all afternoon."

"In the fucking moment? That's what you're going with? You're pathetic. Get some balls, man," he says.

"I'm not interested."

"Was it weird?" His voice drops. "I mean, did it feel weird to you?"

I think back to the pressure of her lips, the smell of her hair, how sweet her mouth was. "No. It wasn't."

"It wasn't what?"

Oh, Nic is making me work.

"It wasn't weird," I tell him.