Sugar Pie by Victoria Pinder

14

Kerry

I spent my day with a realtor. As a doctor’s wife, I’d spent the past few years organizing, reorganizing, and moving, so I had serious ideas about what upscale amenities we would need to provide to turn a profit.

The land needed water for sporting, and while our town was over an hour from the beach, we needed to avoid flood zones while ensuring we could dig pools or have a lake.

* * *

The next day, I set up an appointment to see three more residential sites in the afternoon, once the realtor understood my needs more and saw that I’d read the zoning permits in my car before the tours.

After that, I headed to the grocery store and picked up a few items to cook. The day was getting away from me, but in the morning, I would park myself in front of my laptop again to find more immediate work.

As I left the grocery store, a police officer stepped in front of me and blocked my path home. I held my bags tighter as he asked, “Are you Kerry Jackson?”

Walking wasn’t a crime. There was a sidewalk. I nodded and asked, “Do you need my license, officer?”

He nodded, so I handed it over. He spoke into his walkie-talkie but said to me. “You’ve been reported as missing by your husband.”

I wasn’t anyone’s ward. My heart raced, and I tensed. “My ex-husband signed divorce papers, according to my lawyer, and the judge should be finalizing today in Florida.”

He gave my license back. “That’s more than adequate, ma’am. You’re old enough and legal. I’d recommend you let people know you’re okay.”

People?My skin buzzed, but I ignored it. “Thank you.”

As I walked home, my mind zeroed in on the one person other than Romeo who might have called the authorities and had enough power to persuade. I took my phone out and dialed a number I’d avoided.

Her machine answered, but I knew she was screening the unknown number.

“Mom? It’s me.”

I heard the line click, and Francesca answered. “You’re alive. I called the cops.”

I shook my head as I climbed the stairs to my place. “That’s why I’m calling you.”

She sighed. “No authority called me back to let me know anything.”

Once again, it was all about how the world revolved around her. I unlocked the door. “Mom, you can’t call the police on adults. I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

I put my bags on the counter. “Because… I broke it and got a new one.”

“We’d send you a replacement right away.”

I straightened my spine. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hers or Romeo’s to control. I was free, and no amount of cajoling was ever going to change my mind. “It’s okay, Mom. I want to run my life, especially now that I’m divorced.”

“So it’s true. I’m at a loss. I’ll help you find a new husband straight away.”

I thought I heard a door close in the bedroom. I closed my eyes. “No. I don’t want to marry a rich man and be taken care of.”

The door opened, and Warren came out with his hair wet. His white T-shirt clung perfect, and those muscles of his underneath made my knees weak, not that he could have seen me behind the counter. “I want to… do something with my life. Look, I have to go.”

“Goodbye.”

Warren opened the bags and helped me put the groceries away. “Does starting a business with me count as doing something with your life?”

I reached for his wrist, and my pulse stirred as I drew closer. “Yes. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t—”

We were nose to nose. His eyes began to close. Electricity rushed through me, but then he whispered, “Kiss me.”

My lips parted, and the air around us swirled as if we were in a dream. But then I stepped back and rubbed my forehead. “I can’t. I told you the truth last night. I’m not ready for more, and we work well together.”

He winked and seemed to take it well as he took the last of the groceries to the freezer. “Well, we’re helping each other out, but I was thinking…”

I blinked. I needed the meat he’d put away for dinner. “What do you want now?”

He took my hands. “Let’s have fun. Forget cooking. We’ll go out.”

Every second of every day since we’d moved in together had been great. I followed him toward the door. “Fun… I don’t think I’ve had fun with a guy since college, but no horseback riding.”

“No problem.”

I stopped, grabbed my shoes, and sidled up beside him.

We drove to a small bar that had country music blaring outside. As we headed to the door, I considered that I hadn’t been in a bar in years. Warren held the door, and we headed in.

The hostess took us to a table, and we ordered a beer. I licked my lips—I hardly remembered what a stout tasted like, but I did remember that it had been my preference in college.

We sat and listened to music until our beers arrived. Once we were alone, he asked, “Where did you go to school?”

I sipped my beer to get the taste in my mouth and let out a small moan. It was better than I remembered. I put the glass down and said, “Wesleyan.”

He moved closer. “So you are a rich girl.”

A smile grew on my face, and I took his hand. “Was.”

He winked.

I took another sip as we perused the bar menu. I quickly decided on the cheeseburger, which I hoped would be greasy with crunchy fries on the side. We ordered, and once we were alone again, I asked, “And what about you?”

“UCLA.”

I laughed, picked up the huge mug of beer I’d hardly touched, and said, “That’s pretty prestigious and hard to get into.”

He shrugged but gave no answer.

The food came, and the music was great, but Warren held my attention. I took my beer and food and moved beside him so that we both sat on the same side of the booth. “So you and your brothers are all smart. It’s a good quality to see.”

He playfully rubbed my shoulder. “I half wished I was like you growing up.”

I narrowed my gaze. I wished I didn’t have doubts and could wrap my arms around him and taste his lips. I bet he was better than the beer in my hand. My face heated, and I lowered my head. “Like me?”

He inched closer. “Without any brothers who were always around.”

My eyes widened as I met his gaze. “How do you know so much about me?”

He twisted his beer around. “I listen, and you haven’t ever mentioned siblings. The implication was there. Am I wrong, or are you an only child?”

For years of my life, I thought that even parading around my house stark naked and playing a trumpet would mean that no one would notice me.

A thrill raced through me, but I just picked up my beer and said, “You pay way too much attention to me.”

“Doubtful, and you avoided the answer.”

I sipped the beer and stared at my plate. I couldn’t lie. “I have none. You’re right about me.”

He patted me on the back. “I like being right.”

I shook my head, put my beer down, and refused to acknowledge how his touch had set me off. “You make me want to prove you wrong.”

He winked. “Don’t do that. You make my day better every time I come home.”

The waitress stopped and said, her hand on her hip, “Now that, honey, is a keeper.”

I met his blue eyes, and in that second, I imagined him slipping a ring on my finger. I blinked, and the image was gone. “Maybe he is.”

His grin grew wide as the waitress left. Then he said, “I like her. She was nice.”

I picked up a fry. “You like what she said about you.”

“True,” he said, and then we both ate.

For the next few minutes, the music continued as we ate in a comfortable silence. Once the food was done and I’d had a full sip of beer, I asked, “Why did you start on your path, now, Warren? What’s the driving force to prove yourself?”

He picked up his beer and narrowed his gaze. “Good question.”

I brushed against his leg, which was a mistake. He was strong everywhere and all muscle, which only made me lose my own breath. I pretended that heat didn’t rush through me. “Now, you’re avoiding.”

He shrugged. “I’m twenty-eight. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never get this chance again.”

My gut twisted—there was more, but I shrugged it off. His life before our venture wasn’t mine to know. I sipped my beer. “Well, I’m divorced at twenty-six. My ex was forty-eight, so I don’t think age alone is an answer.”

His shoulder brushed mine again. “How long were you married, Kerry?”

With Warren, it was like I had a friend. “Three years, but it felt like a lifetime. I spent a year planning the wedding, hoping somehow a better offer would come.”

I explained how I’d graduated college, got married, and never did anything all in one shot. I gulped my beer, as I wasn’t used to sharing so much.

Then he said, “I was in Europe, studying ancient architecture.”

I put my glass down and laughed as I met his gaze. “So that’s why you didn’t save me? Not because we didn’t know each other then.”

He wrapped his arms around me. “Yes, absolutely. I’m your hero.”

I wanted to believe him. I ached to be his. But I ignored the flutters of my heart as best I could. “Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re driving home because I want one more drink.”

He raised a hand in the air and said, “I’ll get you home with your honor intact.”

A beer wasn’t going to leave me messed up and in need of a hero, but he was right. The night was fun. I sighed. “Honor. I like that, Warren.”

When the waitress returned, I ordered a second beer. I liked how my husband and my mother weren’t there, cautioning me about my health and the dangers of carbs. Warren acted as if I was important to him, and that was enough.

I didn’t need a hero. I just wanted to be near him.