Someone You Love by Kristen Granata

Charly

“She’ll take a pair of these in black, and those in white.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. “Uh, Beatrice, I can’t afford both.”

She waves me away with a dismissive hand. “This shopping spree is on me.”

“No, no. I never agreed to that. You don’t have to pay for me.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I feel terrible about your room not being ready.” She turns to me, and grips my forearms. “Plus, I’ve always wanted a granddaughter, and I have no one to spoil. I love my boy, but he wouldn’t look half as good in these shoes as you would. Let me do this for you.”

I stifle a laugh at the thought of Bryce in heels. “Fine. Just this once.”

“Fabulous.” Beatrice spins around, and grabs two dresses off the rack next to us. “You’ll try these on, too.”

“I’m going to start calling you Mr. Lewis.”

She cackles. “I love Pretty Woman.”

“Me too. My mom and I used to watch it all the time.”

Beatrice hugs me to her side. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

“Me too.” Sadness tugs on my spirit, so I change the subject. “Bryce mentioned he was in an accident. I saw the scar on his back when he was by the pool last night.”

She nods, and runs her fingers over a silk blouse, studying it. “The doctors weren’t sure he’d ever walk again.”

I swallow down the questions I’m dying to learn the answers to. I want to know more about Bryce. About who he is, about what he’s been through. But I should do that through him, and not talking about him behind his back.

Instead, I say, “That must’ve been so scary for you, and for him.”

“Life didn’t turn out the way he planned. Life rarely does. The best laid plans of mice and men, you know the saying. But over time, he was able to cope with that. I think it was his inner circle who let him down most of all.” Beatrice holds up a pair of earrings to see if they match the blouse. “He thought certain people would stay by his side. But they treated him differently. It wasn’t the same, and he was disappointed. He lost a lot more than his mobility.”

Understanding clicks into place. “Their friendship was conditional.”

“Exactly.”

I can’t imagine leaving a friend when times get hard. But I’ve been on the receiving end of friendships like that. Relationships too.

“When I was with my ex, I wanted to hear that it was okay to be sad, that it was okay to mourn the loss of my mother. When we got the news that the cancer came back, and she only had a year left on this earth, I felt so broken. All I wanted was for Greg to hold all of my broken pieces together, and tell me that he would hold me for as long as I needed him to. That it was okay to not be okay. I wanted him to be there for me when I needed him most.” I shake my head. “But he didn’t.”

Beatrice drapes another dress over her arm. “Not everyone can step up and be who we need them to be.”

“He cheated on me, and I didn’t even feel upset.” I chuckle. “Sounds so screwed up when I say it out loud.”

“He wasn’t the one for you, my dear. Simple as that. When it’s the right person, he’ll be here to stay. That’s what I keep telling my grandson, but he’s a bit jaded. I hope he won’t always keep that wall up around his heart.” Beatrice winks. “I suppose it’ll take the right one to knock it down.”

Hope spikes in my veins at the thought of finding someone who can be who I need him to be. I want to keep my mind open to the possibilities. The kind of possibilities Mom didn’t get after Dad left. Part of living my life to the fullest for Mom is falling in love, and I need to believe that it’ll happen. But doubt creeps in, and rears its ugly head.

“I’ve never pictured myself married. Definitely not as a mother. Maybe I used to when I was a kid, but once Mom got cancer, I couldn’t picture what my future would look like.”

Beatrice turns to face me. “Are you afraid you’ll get cancer too?”

“Yes.” My stomach twists, and emotion constricts my lungs. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“They have genetic testing for cancer, you know.”

“I know.”

“Will you get tested to see if you’ve inherited the gene?”

My eyes roam the store, not focusing on anything in particular as thoughts race through my mind. “I’m not sure I want to know. I think knowing makes it worse.”

She nods. “Or it could make planning for your future a little easier, instead of writing off the idea of a family altogether.”

“I’m just ...” I try to speak around the boulder lodged in my throat, and my voice comes out like a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Beatrice pulls me against her, and squeezes me tight. “It’s okay to be scared. Whether you have the gene or not, you should live your life the same. Would your mother have gone back in time and decided not to have a child because she had cancer? I highly doubt that.”

A tear escapes down my cheek. “She’d have made the same choices. I know she would’ve.”

“You’re absolutely right.” She pats my arm, and pulls back. “I lost my son in a car accident. No parent should ever have to bury her child. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been faced with. But does that mean the time we had together wasn’t worth it because he was taken too soon?” She pauses. “Everything we go through in this life is worth it—the good and the bad. It makes us who we are, and it’s a part of our journey. So, you need to ask yourself how you want to spend the time you have, however long or short that may be.”

Mom’s words are a whisper in the back of my mind. Live your life to the fullest.

I choke back a sob, and smile through my tears. “I’m so thankful I ended up here in Maine with you, Beatrice Holden.”

“Me too, sugar.” She dabs the corner of her eye with her knuckle. “Me too.”

Beatrice makes me model every single piece of clothing she picked out, and I can’t argue with her—they look great. But my favorite is the one I picked out: A short and flirty skater dress with thin straps over my shoulders. The bandeau top ties at my cleavage, and has a small peekaboo cutout under my breasts. It’s black with tiny white daisies all over it, and it makes me smile.

I seem to be doing a lot of that here.

Smiling.

Maybe Jenny was right.

Maybe Stella’s getting her groove back after all.

Bryce

After a long day of sanding, I’m looking forward to submerging my sore muscles in the cool water of the pool.

I pack up my tools, and make my way into the backyard. Charly sways on the porch swing, staring down at a piece of paper in her lap, and the porch light shines down on her like a spotlight.

I hold up my arm like a shield over my face. “I am approaching the porch. Don’t throw any punches.”

She looks up and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

That fact shouldn’t affect me the way it does.

I arch a brow, and gesture to the paper in her lap. “Finally writing down those house rules?”

“No, this is a different kind of list.” She holds it up so I can see. “I made a bucket list for my mother, and we didn’t get to finish everything on it before ...” Her voice softens. “She said she wanted me to finish it without her.”

My heart aches for the loss I’m all too familiar with. “I’ve always thought bucket lists were kind of morbid.”

“They really are. But Mom was excited. Or maybe she was just pretending, for my sake. Either way, we had fun trying to complete it.”

“You’re lucky you got to spend that time with her. To say goodbye.”

I didn’t get that with my parents.

She nods. “Doesn’t make it any easier though.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

I want to say more. Tell her I understand how she feels. Talk about my parents. But my mouth won’t open to let the words out, and the opportunity passes me by.

“Mom wanted me to go on an adventure.” She pats Peter Pan next to her on the cushion. “I guess I’m trying to get some inspiration.”

I lower myself onto the top step. “What kinds of things are on your list?”

“Camping, jet skiing, salsa lessons.” Her eyes light up. “Hey, you know this area. Are there places around here where I can do any of those things?”

I nod. “You can do anything outdoorsy here. Not sure about the dance lessons.”

“You wear tights, but you don’t dance?”

“I wore tights. Once. Past tense.” I smirk. “I know of a kayak and canoe rental place in town. I can give you the information.”

“Have you ever gone canoeing?”

“When I was a kid. I used to spend my summers here with my parents.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult to learn how to steer.” She shrugs. “Just paddle, right?”

The thought of Charly getting stranded, alone, in the middle of the water sours my stomach, and the words fly from my mouth before I can stop them. “I’m heading into town tomorrow to pick up a shipment from the docks. I can take you with me, and show you where they offer lessons for first-timers.”

She gasps. “You will?”

I will? “Sure. I can show you around while we’re there.” Seriously? Why can’t I stop talking?

“I didn’t want to ask, and make you feel like you had to help me. But if you really don’t mind,” she beams at me, “I’d love your help.”

Warmth spreads from my stomach to my chest, and I know right here and now, I’ll do just about anything to keep her smile directed at me.

And that’s not good.

I push off the porch to stand. “Well, I’ll leave you to your list.”

“Are you swimming tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

My eyebrows lift. “You want to swim with me?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

She dips her head, keeping her eyes on mine. “You can tell me the truth if you’d rather the alone time.”

My heart hammers in my chest, and the next words come out strangled because I can’t believe I’m saying them. “I don’t mind your company.”

Her mouth breaks into another beautiful smile, and I smile too, because I put it there.

I change into my black trunks, and head out to the pool with our towels. I warm up my muscles by doing some stretches, carefully bending at the waist, and letting my arms hang down by my ankles.

Charly’s wolf whistle sounds from behind. “Now there’s a view you don’t see every day.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What am I, a piece of meat to you?”

Her laughter flutters around me. “I mean, if you’re putting it on display like that, you’re going to get some attention.”

I stand and stretch my arms overhead, loving the way her eyes travel down my torso. “Fair enough. Just know that goes both ways.”

Her bathing suit is more modest than the string bikini she had on earlier. An olive-green halter top with a high neck completely covers her chest, and high-waisted black bottoms conceals most of her stomach, leaving a sliver of creamy skin peeking out. To some, this choice might not draw the eye. To me? Charly could be in a snowsuit and I’d still find her attractive.

Stop thinking about how attractive she is.

She dips her toes into the water by the steps in the shallow end. “I love swimming.”

“I did aquatic therapy when I was in rehab,” I say, joining her on the step. “I had to re-learn how to walk.”

She swishes her leg back and forth, moving the water with her foot in front of her. She doesn’t attempt to talk. She doesn’t apologize, or look at me with pity. It’s rare for people to listen to someone’s struggles without imparting their own opinions and judgements. It’s why I don’t share much with anyone. People say what they think I want to hear, or offer some cliché quote that demonstrates their ignorance more than anything. But Charly simply listens, and it makes me want to tell her more.

“It was frustrating, having to learn how to do something so menial when I used to be able to perform such athletic feats.” I pause, preparing to share another piece of me with her. “I used to play defense for the New England Patriots.”

Her head swivels to face me. “The Patriots? As in the mega-famous NFL team?”

“Yes.”

“As in Tom Brady’s Patriots?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, Tom Brady’s Patriots.”

“Wow. You’re the perfect size for that. I bet quarterbacks shit their pants when they saw you coming at them.”

“Oh, they did.” I step further into the water until it hits my waist. “I thought not being able to play the game I loved would be the worst part of my injury. Turns out it wasn’t.”

She surges into the water, and floats over to me. “What was the worst part?”

“The way people treated me once I wasn’t a defensive lineman anymore.” I focus on a palm tree at the far end of the pool. “Without football, everything changed.”

She nods as if she understands. “Life always shows you who your true friends are. Anyone can stand with you when you’re at your best. It takes someone special to stay with you when things go sideways.”

I glide to the edge, and kick my feet out behind me. “You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“I know it’s not the same thing, and I’m not trying to compare. But I lost some friends when my mom got sick.” She swims to the wall beside me. “They wanted to go out, and party, and have fun. But I felt like I needed to be home with her. I felt guilty leaving her behind.”

“Sounds like you lost some of your youth too.”

“I didn’t mind it. I’m grateful I got to spend the time with my mom. As crazy as it sounds, I think I was lucky she had cancer, and not something else. Some people lose someone in a car accident, or a sudden heart attack. I had time to grieve, and cope, and say goodbye before she died.”

“That’s how I lost my parents. In a car accident.”

Charly’s eyes widen. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was so insensitive of me to say. Beatrice told me about it earlier, and I completely forgot.”

My heartrate picks up. “She told you about the accident?”

“Well, she mentioned she lost her son in an accident. She didn’t go into specifics. I assumed her son was your father.”

My insides tense at the idea of Nana talking about my life to Charly. “And why did that come up in conversation?”

She stares down into the water. “We were talking about some heavy stuff during our shopping trip today.”

“Like?”

She pushes her fingers through the water, making a semi-circle in front of her. “I don’t know if I inherited the cancer gene from my mother, and I’m not sure I want to know. On one hand, I’d like to know before I get married and start a family, if that’s in my cards. And on the other hand, do I really want to live with that knowledge looming over me?” She lifts a shoulder. “It’s scary either way you look at it.”

“Having the gene doesn’t mean you’ll get cancer. And who’s to say you’ll die from cancer? What if you have a heart attack, or get hit by a bus? You can’t predict what’s going to happen to you. Life happens all on its own.”

Her green eyes lift and hold my gaze. “How old were you when your parents died?”

“Sixteen.” I let my legs fall until I’m standing in front of her. “I was supposed to go to dinner with them, but Nana called me to come do some work on the porch. She didn’t want Pop getting up on the ladder to fix the fans. So, I got out of the car and said goodbye to my parents. That was the last time I saw them.”

“You would’ve been in that car with them when they died.”

I nod, and flick the water with my index finger. “Probably would’ve died too.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

I cover up the sadness with a joke. “You sure about that? You’d have this private guest house all to yourself.”

Her lips press into a firm line. “That’s not funny.”

I shrug, and glance away.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Bryce. Losing your parents sucks.”

“I’m sorry you lost your mom too. It sucks she had to suffer like that. But I’m glad you got the chance to say goodbye.”

A sweet smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You’re always thinking of other people. I’ve noticed that about you.”

I look into her bright eyes. “Not everyone.”

Lately, it’s been you who consumes my thoughts.

Pink tinges her cheeks. “No?”

“Only the people I give a shit about.” My words come out like a hushed confession, one I shouldn’t have admitted, yet I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried.

The air between us thickens, and I watch the rise and fall of her chest with her shallow breaths. It takes all my willpower not to lean forward and kiss her. I want to. Want to claim those lush lips, and steal the air from her lungs.

What’s more, I think she wants me to. She stares up at me, waiting.

But I can’t let myself go there. Can’t get wrapped up in her this summer.

Eventually, she’ll go back to her real life in New York, and where will that leave me?

Alone.

Left behind.

Again.

“Come on. Let’s start with some laps.” I swim away from her, putting distance between us.

I’ve said enough for one night.