9. Dean: Reconsidering the Plan?

Dean – Reconsidering the Plan?

Chapter nine

After dinner, Dylan and I return to our apartment. It's starting to feel less and less like home lately and more like a place we come to get some sleep, but I'm sure once the farmhouse is demolished and the condos are underway, things will return to normal. I unbutton my shirt, toss it into the hamper, and walk into my ensuite bathroom. The vanity is enormous, with a double sink. Not that the other side gets much use.

As I brush my teeth, I reflect back on the day. I can't believe how much Mae got out of me as we drove to Bruce's together. I said things to her that I'd never dreamed of saying to another human, not even myself.

And then she stunned me with that kiss. I'm so torn. I know that everything needs to remain platonic between us but it's getting more difficult by the day. How I wanted to pull her to me and never let her go, to kiss her until our mouths were bruised, to…. And then whatever I said, I can't remember exactly, was like I doused her with a bucket of water. She just ran away, both literally and figuratively. I felt a hesitation in her the rest of the day. Even though she helped with dinner and it seemed she was just fine, I got the sense that she was somehow faking conversation and even her sense of happiness. I'm pretty sure I really screwed up by whatever I'd said.

My ribs still hurt a little from where Mae jabbed me, but the pain is worth it. The fragrance of her floral perfume, the warmth of her palm as she grabbed me, and the look in her hazel eyes as she gazed into my soul were intoxicating.

All of the time Dylan and I have spent with her family, and the joy that it seems to be bringing us, is making me consider backing out of the plan for Cornel Condominiums altogether. That way, I could just earnestly and honestly ask her out. Our families could continue to get closer, the time we've spent together becoming more than two neighbors helping each other out. Maybe I could even get back into doing my art…and who knows what else that future could bring. But I've already sunk a lot of money into this project, and I can't let the investors down. They're sticking their necks out just associating with me, the brother of the idiot who almost cost us the entire company. If I back out now, I'd be an even bigger mess up than him.

Despite my resolution to put some space between us and the Dales, I can't help myself from wanting to be around Mae, so I head back over there the following day after work. I tell myself it's just to keep up appearances, but I'm brave enough to tell myself, at least, the truth. Of course, Dylan also doesn't pass up the opportunity to be around her daughter.

Mae's in her beekeeping suit, on her way back to the farmhouse, when we arrive.

"How are they holding up? Has there been a coup yet?" I ask her. Dwight warned us that if the other bees didn't accept the queen, they'd overthrow her.

"So far, so good, I think," she answers after removing the headpiece. She shakes her dark hair from her face.

"Uh…" I'm speechless as I imagine my hands twisting in her dark locks as I pull her closer to me for a deep kiss.

"What's up?" she asks after a second of silence. Even the concerned frown on her face and how she's scrunching up her nose are cute. Oh man, I have it bad.

"Oh, um, I brought this." I lift up a lamp.

"You bring a lamp but not your bedding?"

I laugh. "Priorities, I guess."

She looks me up and down suspiciously. "I guess."

"Is Mina around?" Dylan asks.

"Yeah, she's in the barn. I think she's feeding the goats. Do you want to go help her?"

"I mean, I could…"

She and I laugh as Dylan very eagerly skips over to join Mina.

Mae says, "Grandpa just made a batch of his famous lemonade. Would you like a glass?"

"I'd love one."

"Great. Hang tight. I'll be right back."

While she's gone, I locate some chairs toward the back of the house, and take a seat. Taking in the beautiful landscape of their property is so relaxing. And mine, as well. It's so peaceful out here. There's farmland and green trees as far as the eye can see. A gentle breeze cuts through the summer heat, and in the distance, a bird sings. It'll be a shame that that'll all be torn down soon.

"Here you go," Mae says, handing me a cool glass of lemonade.

"Thanks." I accept the glass from her. Then, I take a sip and start coughing a little.

She cracks up. "Sorry, I should've warned you. It's really tart. Grandpa doesn't like it with all the sugar that we put in it today."

I swallow against the sourness. "But at least modern lemonade doesn't hurt going down."

"Aw, you can't handle it? I can bring you some sugar cubes if you'd like," Mae teases.

"No," I protest before downing the whole thing, in two slugs

She watches with her mouth wide open.

"Aagh!" I yell, after finishing it.

"Wow. Very impressive. How do you feel?"

"Like I just swallowed seven Warheads."

Mae chuckles and rolls her hazel eyes at me before getting up and saying, "I'll get you some water."

After she returns with a glass of ice water, she casually sips the lemonade from her own glass. I wonder if the drink would taste any sweeter if I were licking it from her lips.

"You actually like that stuff?" I ask, instead of leaning forward to test out my theory.

"Oh, I love it. Mina, too."

"You people are nuts."

"Well, Dean, we grew up with it. It might not taste the best, but it reminds us of Grandpa Bob." Mina laughs.

"I guess I can understand that," I retort. "My bunica liked Visinata, which is like a sour cherry liquor. I was only a little kid, so she'd only give me the tiniest sips, but I eventually grew a taste for it." It's been ages since I've had any, and I find myself craving the sweet, tart liqueur—craving it as much as I've been craving something else.

"I assume you mean your grandmother, right? You can handle sour cherry alcohol, but not this?" Mae holds up her glass.

"Yeah, I don't know. I guess it's the bitterness of the citrus."

"Hmm." She doesn't sound convinced.

"Mina! How's the feeding going?" Grandpa Bob yells after coming outside. We both watch as he does his best to waddle down to the barn.

"You're so lucky you still have him," I say.

"Oh, I know." Mae sits up and shakes her head. "I can't even begin to process what life would be like without him. Even when my parents were still around, he was always there. He didn't hesitate to take me, a bratty little kid, in."

"I highly doubt you were a brat." I can't imagine Mae as anything but sweet and kind. The kind of woman who would offer a single father and his son a home-cooked meal after knowing them for a day. The kind of woman that would trust a man like me.

"Trust me. I was worse than that." Mae laughs and shakes her head.

"Well, you were dealing with a horrific and traumatic situation. I don't think anyone, especially a child, would handle that any differently," I say. I was furious after Anna left, filled with rage. Not that I ever let Dylan see any of that anger. At least I hope not. But I was an adult then. I can only imagine what you had to go through, dealing with those losses as a child.

"I definitely put him through the wringer, I'll tell you that much. I remember just screaming my head off at him. I used to tell him I wished he died instead of them. Can you believe that?"

I see a tear fall down her cheek. Without thinking, I raise my hand and wipe it away with my thumb.

"Honestly, yeah. I absolutely can." I want to pull Mae toward me and wrap her in a comforting hug, but I know that would be overstepping. I can't go any further with her until I tell her about the condos. Hopefully, she'll be as understanding about that as she has been for everything else. It's only business, after all. But I think about that kiss and how I handled it so poorly. She looked devastated at whatever stupid thing I said.

"Still, it was an awful, awful thing to say." Mae shakes her head as if trying to shake away the bad memory, and I'm snapped back to the present.

"He knew you didn't mean it." I lean closer to Mae, trying to offer support through my presence alone.

"I hope so," she says, her voice still a little wet with emotion. "It doesn't seem like Grandpa Bob holds it against me."

"I can't imagine a world in which he would. I know Mina's a sweet kid, but she's still a teenager. I'm sure she's let her hormones get the best of her and said hurtful things before. Dylan has."

"Oh yes. That's for sure." A faint smile dances over Mae's lips.

"Hit me with it," I encourage her.

"One time when we were arguing, Mina said she wasn't surprised that her father didn't want anything to do with me."

"Ouch! I get that teenagers can be cruel sometimes, but that's the biggest lie I've heard today, and I work in development." Only the world's dumbest man would fail to see how amazing Mae is. Which is what I assume Mae's ex is.

"Yeah." Mae laughs. "Talk about a low blow. So, what about Dylan?"

"Let's see. He's gone through a few phases where I seemed to be his arch-nemesis. Oh! Actually, he said something similar to Mina. He was screaming about how much he hated me, and he understood why Anna hated me too." Thinking about it now still hurts. Even though I know Dylan was only saying it to get to me.

"Jeez. Our kids are brutal."

"I think all kids are," I say.

"It doesn't help that we gave them that extra ammunition." Mae finishes her glass and sets it next to her seat. Off in the distance, I can hear our two little monsters shriek with laughter.

"About our exes, you mean?" I ask.

"Yeah," Mae responds, stealing my glass, sitting forgotten next to my chair, and taking a swig. I don't comment on the act, but I notice the ease with which she does it, and my heart thuds in my chest with how comfortable we've gotten with each other. I don't think I was ever this relaxed with Anna.

We sit in a peaceful quiet as we feel the wind on our faces and gaze out on our land.

"You know," I say, "it's kind of funny how similar our lives have been."

Mae turns her face to look at me. Her hazel eyes search mine.

"We both had kids relatively young. I was twenty-four, and you were what?"

"Eighteen," she says.

"Eighteen? Wow. Obviously, I wasn't as young as you, but still."

"Yeah. I don't know many people who have their life figured out by eighteen."

"I honestly doubt whether or not I have it sorted out at thirty-eight," I say with a chuckle. "Regardless, Mae, we're both single parents, both lost a sibling—in one way or another—and both lost our fathers."

"What about your mom?" Mae asks. "What was her story?"

"Like toward the end?" I ask.

"No, everything. I don't know why, but I love hearing people talk about their moms. Especially when they were young."

"Well, she was a ballerina," I confess.

"You're kidding." Mae scoots her chair closer to mine, clearly interested in hearing this story.

"No, I swear. When she met my dad, she was a principal dancer with the Los Angeles Ballet."

"Wow!" Mae's smile is as bright as the sun. "I bet that's where you get your creative and artistic side."

I smile. "Yeah, I like to think so."

"So, she and your dad fell madly in love, then what?" I swear Mae gave a little sigh.

"Well, my mom was engaged to another man." Mae's hand flies up to cover her mouth. "Oh, this is getting juicy." She leans further toward me and listens for more.

"Yeah, so as you can imagine, he didn't have the easiest time breaking them up." The breeze picks up, and I take in a deep breath filled with Mae's floral perfume.

"How did he do it?" Now Mae is fully engaged in the tale and it's so cute.

"My dad was just persistent. He sent my mom bouquets of pink roses, her favorite—"

"Really? Mine too." Mae interrupts.

"…to her dressing room, and he was always waiting by the stage door at the end of her shows."

"That's really romantic," Mae sighs. I smile. I haven't told that story in a while, not since Dylan was born, and it's nice sharing it with Mae, who's been listening, with a dreamy look in her eyes.

"Yeah. I feel kind of bad for the fiancé." That part always hits a little too close to home. I know my mom and dad were in love, but I also know what it feels like to be the one left behind.

"But you wouldn't have existed if he was still in the picture," Mae counters.

I look up, and she's looking at me with such sincerity that it makes me feel drunk, even though I haven't even had a sip of alcohol.

"That's true," I agree. My eyes move from Mae's face to her lips, down to her lithe arms folded under the soft curve of her chest.

"Okay, what happened next?" she asks.

"Well, my mom was from a very traditional Romanian family, and they were not happy that she broke her promise to the other guy, but just like Dad managed to charm her, he eventually won the family over too. I think they could tell how much he loved her."

A happy sigh escapes Mae's lips. "So, they got married and had you and your brother?"

"Pretty much, yeah," I say.

"Wow. That's a really beautiful story."

"But then she died."

Mae sits up in her chair. "Whoa! Okay, buzzkill."

I shrug. "Well, she did!"

"I gathered that. But I was reminiscing on the sweet origin story of her and your dad's relationship."

"Sorry."

"You're forgiven." And she says it so sweetly, it makes me want to kiss her. Yeah, again. What doesn't?

I don't, of course. Instead, I lean further away from her scent, smile, and soft body.

"Okay, it's your turn," I say, trying to distract myself from my racing pulse and wandering thoughts.

"For what?" Mae asks, tilting her head, her short hair falling over her shoulder.

"Tell me about your parents."

She finishes my water and sets the glass on the grass. "It isn't nearly as grand as what you just told me."

"I still want to hear it," I say. I want to know her parent's love story. I want to know everything about this woman sitting next to me.

"They were college sweethearts. Both got their bachelor's degrees in biology and then went to medical school."

"What areas did they focus on?"

"Obstetrics," Mae says.

"Wow. So, your parents both delivered babies. I've always figured that must be one of the most stressful jobs," I say. It was stressful for me, and I was just the dad, holding Anna's hand as she and the doctors did all the hard work.

"For sure. It's the one area of the hospital that can be the happiest and the absolutely most devastating simultaneously. I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when he came home after losing a baby." Mae gets a far-off look on her face.

"We almost lost Dylan during the delivery," I confess.

"Really? What happened?" She is immediately attentive and sits bolt upright.

"Shoulder dystocia."

"Oh, yikes. That's when the shoulders get stuck behind the mom's pubic bone, right?" Mae asks.

"Exactly. His oxygen levels dropped really quickly. What should have been a relatively calm delivery room rapidly turned into chaos." A shudder runs down my spine at the thought of it. It was the most frightening day of my life.

"I'll bet," Mae says softly, reaching out and wrapping a warm hand around my arm.

"They instructed her to get on all fours, and then the doctor had to scoop him out with her fingers."

"Well, thank goodness she knew what she was doing." Mae squeezes my arm, and my heart, which had been beating at lightning speed at the memory, begins to slow.

"Right? I can't imagine life without that kid."

"I can tell he adores you so much," Mae says, and it's the look in those hazel eyes, the softness of her hands, and the smell of the evening laced with her perfume that has me yearning for more.