Wrecking Ball (Hard to Love 1)
At the perimeter of the yard, away from everyone else, I park myself in an empty lawn chair and watch my Dad play a game of bocce with Sam. They’re both laughing at something, the huge grin Sam’s wearing on his adorable face so infectious it makes me smile too.
“Hey.” My attention turns to one very tall man loping in my direction. “Hiding?” Hands in his pockets, his stride is as relaxed as his expression. The smile I see on those lips that I know are soft and sweet makes me sick. Yes, you heard it right. I said sick. Because I crave it. I want it all for myself, and that isn’t going to happen. Conjuring full sentences is becoming difficult when I have the object of my fascination standing this close, so I resort to a headshake.
“I think Tom made some cash tonight. How many autographs did you have to sign?”
An honest to goodness smile spreads across his face. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. “He cut them off at thirty.”
“He definitely pimped you out.”
Shrugging, Calvin says, “I don’t mind. Two were season ticket holders.” Then he throws that championship winning body down in the nylon chair next to me. It’s a miracle it doesn’t split in two––although the chair does protest with a loud groan.
As luck would have it, it’s clear tonight, the sky a perfect blank canvas for the show that’s about to begin. A minute later, everything goes dark and suddenly my senses are on steroids. I can feel the bead of sweat crawling down between my breasts. I can smell the sweet scent of the honeysuckle hedge right behind us. I can even hear each relaxed breath the large man sitting next to me takes.
The first candle is lit. A red ball of sparkles explodes over us. Glancing sideways, I catch his profile illuminated by the red glow in the night sky. He’s beautiful…there’s no arguing that. What’s even better is that he’s wonderful.
“You’re a good man.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth. Good grief, I’m turning into a love struck teenager. Calvin turns to look at me, his expression neutral, his thoughts unreadable. “Don’t ever believe otherwise.”
His hand covers mine on the armrest of the chair. When my gaze falls on it, I expect him to remove it but he doesn’t. He holds it ‘til the sky turns smoky from the tail end of the fireworks. And I can’t help but think that this, this is the most romantic scene I’ve ever witnessed.
“So that went better than expected,” I mention while the three of us walk around the side of the house, headed for the car. “Bob only managed to cop a single feel this time.”
Calvin’s head whips around, his expression a mix of surprise and anger. “You better be joking.”
“Camilla.”
The smile I was wearing a second ago melts right off my face. Standing a few feet to my left, walking up my parents’ driveway, is Barbara Blake––Matt’s mother. She’s holding a manila envelope. Her bright blue eyes narrow a touch as her gaze settles on Calvin. My body goes stone cold. The perceptive man standing next to me doesn’t miss a thing. His strong, warm fingers lace through mine, the feeling so unbelievably good that for a second I forget I should be nervous.
“I need to talk to you.”
Barbara and I never had the warmest of relationships, but it was never hostile. Like many mothers, she had impossibly high standards for the woman who would be her precious son’s wife. For Matt’s sake, though, she usually kept things civil. And it’s not like we saw her all the time––one of the reasons I didn’t mind moving to Connecticut. After Matt died, we completely lost touch. Unfortunately, by the look on her face, I’m not sure civil is what she has in mind right now.
“Sam, why don’t you and your uncle go ahead. I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes.” Calvin doesn’t budge. A sidelong glance reveals that…oh crap, he has his game face on. Nudging him only earns me a hard look. “I’ll be there in a minute,” I murmur. He wants to argue––it’s all over his face––though thankfully, he doesn’t. After a meaningful pause, he places his hand on Sam’s shoulder and reluctantly ushers him down the driveway while stealing backward glances at me.
“I didn’t believe it,” Barbara announces, her eyes glued to Calvin’s broad back. “Not when I read it on the front pages of those trashy magazine at the supermarket. Not even when I saw it on TV,” she adds, her tone reeking of disapproval.
Her words are arrows that hit their intended mark. A momentary pang of shame hits me. The look of contempt on her face makes me sweat and cower. Except I’m no longer the woman she knew three years ago. There’s no denying that the shit ton of hardship I’ve endured has toughened me up. There’s your silver lining, I guess.