“What? No no no. This is perfect, sweetie. What number are you calling from? And did you get my message? I called you last week ...” Her voice dropped off, and I hoped it was a rhetorical question. I really needed to get in the habit of checking my voicemail more often. Heaven forbid it had been something important.
I closed my eyes tightly, rubbing my temples, and tried to find the right words to get this over with. She spoke on, not waiting for a response. “What’s going on with you? Your father is here, but he’s in the garage, building something that I’m sure he’ll want to bring into the house. I swear, Julia, that man ... he would fill my whole home with other people’s garbage if I didn’t keep him in line.” She huffed into the phone, and I could imagine her in the kitchen, fixing dinner with the phone tucked between her neck and shoulder.
“I have some news, but I don’t want you to freak out when I tell you.” I waited expectantly for reassurance that I knew would never come.
A pause. A stilling of whatever she had been doing that had created noise. “Oh. My. God. What happened? Is it cancer?”
“No! I’m healthy and fine.” I spoke quickly, trying to head off her panic attack before it came.
“Well, dammit, Julia. You almost gave me a heart attack. Please don’t start a conversation like that; it’s terrifying to a woman my age.”
I gripped the chair’s arms, and fought the urge to rock the damn thing so hard the rockers would break off. “I ended things with Luke. A few months ago. I—”
“What? No you haven’t.” The relief in her voice, along with the certainty of her tone, caught me off guard.
“I know it seems sudden, but—”
“A few months ago? Julia, what are you talking about? Luke is here, waiting on your internship to finish up.”
I stopped rocking completely, my mouth involuntarily falling open. “What? What do you mean here?”
“Here, here. He’s in the garage with your father right now. He’s been here a few days; I put him up in your room.”
“WHAT? Are you crazy!”
“Between the two of us, you are the one acting crazy.” Her voice took on an edge of irritation. “He’s almost family. I wasn’t going to turn him away when he showed up on Thursday. I left you a message about it then. Besides, we all assumed you’d come home for a visit as soon as your internship wrapped up. When does your internship finish? We don’t have any details on it, or on your new place.” The sound of the mixer started in the background. She seemed to have completely missed the entire focus of this conversation.
I breathed loudly into the phone. “Mom. Get him out of there. I broke up with him months ago. He is being a crazy stalker; I can’t believe he is there!”
“Julia. Stop getting worked up. This is Luke we are talking about. He’s not a stalker. He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever been with, I can assure you of that.”
“Mom, you don’t know half the people I’ve been with, so you can’t assure me of anything. Where is Dad? Let me talk to him.”
“I am not putting your father on so you can spout this nonsense to him. When your internship is finished, come home. We can discuss this then, and you and Luke can work out whatever tiff you are having so we can continue with wedding plans. Trust me, these things blow over, and he has been such good company to your father this week.”
Wedding plans. God, please tell me she hadn’t still been working on those. I had told her to halt all planning for that ill-fated possibility six months ago, when my gut had first told me the wedding might not ever become a reality.
I spoke rapidly into the phone, but my words went unheard, nothing but silence in my ear. She had hung up. I pulled the phone from my ear and gawked at it. I don’t know why I was surprised. My mother, the queen of independence, wasn’t the type to drag out conversations, especially when she had supper on the stove. I locked the phone screen, trying to work through what had just happened. Luke. At my parents’ house. Anger boiled with quick fury in my blood, and I stood, whirling around and yanking the heavy door open, stomping into the kitchen a bit dramatically, embracing the anger that flowed with greedy speed throughout me.
Brad turned at my entrance, his plate empty, his eyes locking on his phone and following it as I swung my arms emphatically. “You won’t believe this shit!” He stood, snagging his phone from my hand and pocketing it, as he grabbed his plate and took it to the sink.
“They aren’t happy about the engagement?”
“I didn’t even get that far! Luke is staying at my parents’ house!” His blank look returned my infuriated one. “Luke! My ex-fiancé!
He set down his plate, the sound echoing in the empty kitchen. I expected fire, an outrage to match my own, nostrils flaring, hands clenched, a dramatic show of he-man strength. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I know you’ve told me about Luke, but refresh my memory.” He walked back to the table, sliding out a chair and sitting down, his face calm and peaceful across from my furious one.
I blew out a long breath, flexing my hands in front of me. “Dated eighteen months, engaged for twelve of those. I ended it about a month or two before you and I met.”
“Nice guy?”
“Was extremely nice. Quiet, kinda lazy. But when we broke up he went batshit stalker on me—showing up at work and the house, power-calling my cell. That’s why I moved in with the guys and quit my other job. I started my internship at CDB, changed my number, and haven’t seen him since.” I rolled my neck and blew out a breath, willing my heart to slow down. I glanced at him, scowling at his calm expression.
He met my look with an easy confidence, shrugging nonchalantly. “What is it you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Wave your arms about. Scream. Charge up there and forcibly remove him!”
He chuckled at me across the table. “Julia. This relationship between you and him needs to be ended by you. Anything I say to him won’t resonate. You spent a significant amount of your lives together.” He reached over, dragging my chair across the stone floor until it touched his, his strong hands pulling me onto his lap. I sat, in a child’s position, curled on his lap, his big arms engulfing me, his breath on my hair. “I’ve had you for three weeks, and the thought of losing you is unbearable. He had you so much longer than that. I don’t blame him one bit for going crazy without you. You need to be kind and gentle, but firm, with him.”