Caught Together

Anna’s husband Richard is always on rush duty. The nickname we’ve given to frantically driving to the store to pick up whatever we’ve forgotten. This time it’s ice. He takes Trevor with him, and I’m relieved. I can’t seem to think straight when he’s in the same room. Exhibit A being the fact that I almost let him get me off in my living room. I should have made up a reason for Richard to buy batteries, because I’m going to need them. I get the feeling that my vibrator and I are going to be very good friends this winter break.

Brad does whatever else we need, bringing dishes to and from the kitchen, washing a pan I forgot we needed, and being a good sport about it in spite of it being his first day home. I tap him on the shoulder. “I promise I’ll let you do nothing for at least two days.”

“It’s all right, Mom, really. I don’t mind.”

How I got a kid as good as this one, I’ll never know.

The front door opens and I feel the blast of cold air even from the kitchen. Richard comes in followed by Trevor, who’s carrying the ice. I can’t help but notice the way he’s handling giant bags of ice as if they weigh nothing. His eyes find mine, and I look away. I have to stop. I focus on Maria, who’s in the middle of telling a story about her date last week.

“—I swear to god he had his credit cards alphabetized.”

Anna laughs. “Maria, how could you possibly know that?”

“He was an accountant. He was practically wearing a pocket protector. Hell, I’d be willing to put a lot of money on the fact that that man alphabetized his wallet.”

“So you don’t actually know?” I ask.

“Well, no,” Maria says. “But if you’d been there and seen him you’d say it too.”

I shove a cucumber and a peeler into her hands. “So no second date?”

“Yeah, no,” she says, attacking the cucumber. My sister has always been a master peeler. I think she can peel a cucumber in fifteen seconds. We may have had competitions when we were younger.

“What about you?” Anna says, and I feel the dread settle in my stomach.

“Yes,” Maria says, handing me back the peeled cucumber to slice. “How is your romantic life?”

In the corner of my eye I see Trevor’s head snap up, suddenly far more interested in our conversation than putting ice in the coolers. I force my eyes down and focus on cutting the cucumber. I will not look at him. I will not. “It’s fine.”

Anna snorts. “Right. ‘Fine.’ Does fine mean that you actually went on a date?”

I look at her and pointedly roll my eyes. “It means, Anna, that I’m perfectly content with my life the way it is.”

“When was the last time you actually went on a date?” Maria asks. Her voice is light, playful, but I’ve been through this with them before.

Sweeping the cucumbers off the cutting board into the salad, I clear my throat. “None of your business.” It’s been more than six months, and that date was terrible, but if I tell them they’ll never leave me alone.

“You know we’re only joking with you, right?” Anna says. “You’re our baby sister. It’s our job to pester, and after Jackson—”

“Right,” I say, swallowing the embarrassment that’s building in my gut. If they knew how much their joking stuck with me after they left…

“Speaking of baby,” Anna says. “Come with me, Stella. I brought you a skirt. It won’t fit me anymore, and it’s more your style than mine.”

Maria leans past me and grabs the salad bowl. “Go ahead,” she says softly. “I’ll finish in here.” We both know that if I don’t go with her and try on the skirt, we risk upsetting her. I love my sister, but pregnancy has put her on edge.

“Okay.”

Anna grabs one of her bags and follows me into my bedroom. She tosses it on the bed and I take out the soft green skirt from the bag. It’s gathered on one side, and I have to admit it’s really pretty.

“If you do ever decide to go on a date, you could wear this,” Anna says.

“Would you stop?” I say. “Enough with the dating talk.”

She sighs. “Fine. We just want you to be happy.”

I slip off my pants and into the skirt. “I can be happy without dating, Anna.”

She presses her lips together, and I can just feel another lecture coming on. “It’s just that you haven’t really been with anyone since Jackson. And now that Brad is out of the house, you could finally put more time into having a relationship.”

I sigh. My entire family is like Yenta from Fiddler on the Roof. Jackson left when I was pregnant with Brad, and that leaves a mark. I didn’t want to bring someone into our lives that would treat us just as badly as he did. So no, I haven’t really been with anyone seriously. But that doesn’t mean that as soon as Brad leaves the house I’m going to jump on the first guy I see. I’ve been alone a long time. I’m used to it. I have a good life, and it’s nothing to complain about. “If it’s meant to happen, it will happen, Anna.”

The skirt really does look good. I like it. But the black top I have on is too dark. I pull a lightweight white sweater out of the closet and put it on. Perfect. “It’s good to see you in something other than black.” Anna shoots me a wink in the mirror.

“This wasn’t your skirt, was it?”

“Merry early Christmas.”

I sigh. “If this was just your way of getting me to go out, then I don’t—”

She holds up a hand. “No. I saw it, and I knew it would look great on you.”

“Okay.” I give her a hug as best as I can around her baby bump. “Thank you. I’ll do my best not to spill something on it tonight.”

Maria’s voice floats in from the kitchen telling us everything is ready to eat, so I help my sister into the dining room. Everyone is already seated, waiting for us. Bradley is at one end of the table, and my empty seat is at the other. I was right, it is a little cramped, but nothing we can’t deal with.

And then my heart stops—because my son is seated on one side of me, and Trevor is on the other.

My heart restarts and kicks into a higher gear. Was this a coincidence due to the way the table was set? Or did Trevor intentionally try to sit next to me? If he did try…why?

I had forced what happened earlier to the back of my mind, because there’s no way that really happened, right? Trevor has no reason to want this—to want me. It doesn’t make sense unless it’s all in my head. The seating arrangement is a coincidence. Nothing more.

I clear my throat and sit down, and his leg is pressed against mine because we have less room. I can feel him glance at me, and he pulls his leg back with a small smile. Suddenly I can breathe again. He knows how much I’m affected by him, and I reach for my wine. Because if I’m going to be blushing the whole night I may as well have people think it’s because I’m buzzed.

Trevor’s hand brushes my leg, and I freeze. No one can see his hand as he runs his fingers over the fabric of my skirt. I busy myself filling my plate with salad and ham and Richard’s delicious mashed potatoes, and I make sure that I am absolutely not reacting. His hand disappears and I let out a breath, the tension leaving my body. Trevor fills his own plate, and then he sneaks his hand down again, running his fingers all the way from my hip to my knee. If he keeps doing this, someone is going to see that his hand is constantly under the table and having to explain why his hand is on my leg is the last thing I want to do with my siblings.

I take a bite of mashed potatoes and reach down and grab his hand to push him away, but he twines our fingers together and holds my hand. In spite of myself I feel something warm in my chest. It’s been a long time since someone held my hand, but this isn’t the time or place, or right. I let go, gently pushing his hand back towards him.

I try to focus on the conversation, interject when I can, but I’m…distracted. I’m looking anywhere but to my right. Brad and Trevor tell everyone how the BU hockey team is doing, Annalise and Richard update everyone on their baby renovations, and the twins fill us in on their rivalry to be

come valedictorian. June recently started a new job, and she tells us all about how crazy her new boss is but how much she loves it. I try to focus on my family, but I can’t, because I’m too busy thinking about how good it felt to have Trevor’s hands on me. In between my legs.

I take another sip of wine.

Maria looks and me and says, “So how’s your skirt?”

I choke on the wine. “Excuse me?”

“The skirt Anna just gave you? Do you like it?” But from the look on her face, I know she meant to make me think otherwise.

I grab a basket of rolls from the center of the table. “I do like it.”