Indiscretion

A week later, Frannie’s health had miraculously started to improve. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but she’d been released from the ICU into a stepdown unit. I hadn’t seen much of Naomi because Frannie’s sister-in-law had been keeping an eye on the kids when she went to the hospital. On the two days she’d come into the office, I’d made myself scarce. And tonight was the second night in a row I’d gone from the office to a bar down the block from my apartment instead of going home and getting the sleep I desperately needed.

The same bartender was on tonight as last night. I took the same stool, and he walked over and flung a hand towel over his shoulder. “Vodka soda?”

I nodded. “Good memory.”

He grabbed a glass from beneath the bar and plucked a bottle of Tito’s from the rack on the wall. “You don’t look like most of my other patrons.”

I felt my brows draw together and looked around. Two other guys were seated around the bar—one was probably in his sixties with a bulbous nose and eyes glued to a horse race on TV, and the other I thought was a bit older and I was pretty sure he might’ve been here last night. Might’ve been wearing those same clothes, too.

“Older crowd?”

He picked up the spray nozzle and topped off my glass with seltzer, gesturing with his chin to the guy watching TV. “Jack over there asked me if he could sign over his Social Security check in exchange for unlimited beer. I told him that was a losing proposition. Frank…” He nodded toward the other man. “He’s usually waiting outside when I get here at ten in the morning. You look like you have a job.”

Considering I had canceled four meetings in the last two days, I might not for long. Yet I shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

The bartender slid the drink over to my side of the bar and extended a hand. “Remy Soriano.”

I shook, even though I didn’t feel like making small talk. “Dawson Reed.”

“So why are you drowning your sorrows two nights in a row in a shithole like this?”

I slugged back half of my glass. The alcohol burned going down. “Does the owner of this place know you insult the customers and call it a shithole?”

He smirked. “Sure does. I’m the proud owner of this shithole.”

I chuckled. “What makes you think I’m trying to drown my sorrows? Maybe I’m just an alcoholic who needs a new place to drink.”

“You took five hours to kill three not-so-strong vodka sodas last night and wobbled out of here. You aren’t good enough at drinking to be an alcoholic.”

Fair point. But he was still waiting for an answer. So I thought I’d give him one that would make him go away. “I almost killed someone.”

His brows jumped, but unfortunately, he didn’t budge. “Did they deserve it?”

“Not in the least.”

“Was it an accident?”

I sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk.”

Remy held up his hands. “You got it.”

I pointed to my glass. “How about making these stronger today?”

“You’re the boss.”

I spent the next three hours drinking four drinks. The bartender hadn’t been exaggerating earlier—three made me wobble. So I probably should’ve stopped there because four, well, four made me talk too much.

Remy brought over a dish full of nuts and a tall glass of something. “Water,” he said. “Drink it. And you should put something in your stomach too.”

“You ever fall in love?” I slurred.

“Every other Friday night when I don’t have my kid for the weekend. I go on Tinder and fall head over heels, then get over it by morning and see myself out.”

I snort-laughed. “That’s the way I was. I fucked up, thinking things could be different.”

“What happened? You met some girl-next-door type who promised you a home-cooked meal and love and then banged the pool guy when you went to work?”

“No, I’m the one who fucked up.”

“Can you make it right?”

I caught the bartender’s eyes, though he had four of them at the moment. “The person I almost killed? She was my girlfriend’s sister.”

He whistled. “I’m not sure there’s a Hallmark apology card or a big enough bouquet for that.”

I sucked back the remnants of my vodka soda like it was the water sitting next to it. It no longer burned, at least. Then I pushed my empty glass toward my new friend. “I’ll take another.”

“You sure? It’s always the last one that makes us do something stupid.”

“Stupid is what I’m good at.”

***

I lifted my head, and it felt like part of my face stayed stuck to the dirt beneath it. Wait…dirt? I blinked the rest of the way to consciousness and looked around at my surroundings. Where the hell am I? In a kid’s playhouse? Pushing upright, I squinted at the offensive sun blaring in through a small open door and raised a hand to try to block it. That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t in a kid’s playhouse. I was in a doghouse. And from the look of the brick home twenty feet away, it wasn’t just any dog’s house. I was in Bailey’s yard.

Oh fuck.

What the hell am I doing here?

And how the hell did I even get to Greenwich, Connecticut?

I struggled, thinking back to last night. It was hazy, but I remembered going to some bar. The bartender was Ren or Rowan or…Remy. It was definitely Remy. And fuck, my head was pounding right now. It hurt so much that I lifted a hand to feel around and make sure it wasn’t cracked. But there was no wetness, no blood.

What the hell happened?

I remembered the bartender taking my phone and helping me call an Uber. And I thought maybe he and some guy who’d been watching a horse race might’ve helped me into it. After that, though, I drew a giant blank. And I was pretty sure if I tried to think any harder, I was going to puke. No, no. I’m definitely going to puke anyway.

I crawled to the entrance of the doghouse and made it in the nick of time. Fluids burned my esophagus as I emptied the contents of my stomach all over Bailey’s mother’s grass. If it was even her house anymore. I hadn’t been here in years.

I was still dry heaving when I heard a door open and close. A few seconds later, a woman’s shoes walked into my field of vision. I shut my eyes. Fuck. I’m going to wind up getting arrested. Worse, I had no choice but to lift my throbbing head and look up.

Miriam Anderson stared down at me. She didn’t seem too surprised to see me, or at least it didn’t seem to faze her that someone was vomiting on her property. I wasn’t even sure she’d recognize me after all this time.

“Good morning, Dawson.”

I managed to crawl the rest of the way out of the doghouse and climb upright, using the roof to balance. “Hi, Mrs. A.”

“I think you’re old enough to call me Miriam now.” She smiled sadly. “I was beginning to wonder if I should call the paramedics. Are you okay?”

I started to nod, but stopped because it hurt my brain too much. “Sorry about your grass.”

“It’ll wash away. Would you like to come in?”

I hadn’t seen this woman in over a decade, and I’d just broken into her yard, passed out in her doghouse, and puked all over her grass, and yet here she was inviting me in. People didn’t change. “Could I trouble you for some Motrin?” I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth, trying to find some moisture so I could speak better, but it was like the Sahara in there. “And maybe some water, too?”

She smiled and waved for me to follow her. In the kitchen, she went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pills, then held a glass against the refrigerator door and filled it with filtered water.

“Thanks.”

She nodded.

I took the pills and forced myself to drink half the water, even though I was queasy. “Did I wake you when I got here?”

Miriam shook her head. “I noticed feet sticking out of the doghouse when I looked out the window while making my coffee about six. You were fast asleep.” She smiled. “You look exactly the same, just a little older.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do you know how I got here?”

“I looked at the Ring camera. You were dropped off about two in the morning. Not sure by who, but the car left after it let you out.”

Probably the Uber. I shook my head. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. It’s not exactly how I would’ve liked to have seen you for the first time after all these years.”

She held out a hand. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll make you some tea. Caffeine might help with the headache.”

I was in no state to jump in a moving car at the moment, so I figured I might as well sit. Miriam put the kettle on and rustled around the kitchen for a few minutes before setting a teacup in front of me. She took the seat across from me with her own cup and sipped.

“Your mom tells me you’re a lawyer, in private practice.”

“I didn’t realize you and Mom kept in touch.”

Miriam nodded. “A few times a year. I give her the gossip from around the neighborhood, and she gives me updates on you and Ben and rubs in how warm it is in Florida when we talk during the cold months up here.”

I smiled, even though my face hurt. “She’s been down there four years and already needs a sweater when she comes up to visit and it’s seventy.”

I looked around the kitchen, anywhere but at the woman sitting across from me. My eyes stopped at the clock on the wall. I was pretty sure it was the same one from when we were kids. It had cherries where the numbers would normally be. “Is that right?”

She followed my line of sight. “Within a few minutes. It’s going on two.”

Wow. I’d really been knocked out. The cherry clock reminded me that the entire kitchen used to be cherry themed—cherry wallpaper, cherry dishtowels, cherry curtains, cherry salt and pepper shakers. But it was just the clock now. “You redid the kitchen.”

“About a decade ago.”

I nodded. With my kitchen inspection done, I had nowhere to look except down at my tea. Miriam and I were both quiet for a long time.

“Dawson?”

She waited until I lifted my head. It was painful to look into her eyes, knowing what I’d done all those years ago.

“Would you like to talk about it? Whatever brought you here last night?”

“I’m not really sure why I’m here.” That wasn’t true, but it also wasn’t a lie, if that made any sense at all. It felt like Miriam was looking into my soul, and that was more than I could handle, so I diverted my eyes once again. They swept around the room, looking for something, anything, to cling to. When they found the refrigerator, my heart skipped a beat.

Bailey.

Without thinking, I pushed back from the table, chair legs scraping along the tile floor, and walked over to the photo.

She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. She had on that denim patchwork bucket hat she’d worn the day we met, and she was holding a football that looked bigger than it was in her tiny hands. Her smile was ear to ear. I swallowed and pointed. “This was taken on homecoming night in eighth grade.”

Bailey’s mom quietly walked up behind me. “It was. She was so happy you invited her to go with your friends.” She paused. “You were the best thing that happened to her when we moved here, Dawson. She loved you.”

I didn’t even realize I’d started crying until wetness hit my arm. I looked down, confused by it for a moment. “I loved her, too.” Though not the way I should’ve.

We stood at the refrigerator for a long time, staring at the picture in silence. Eventually, Miriam put a hand on my shoulder.

“Your mom told me you met someone recently.”

I froze. I’d completely forgotten I’d mentioned Naomi to my mom. I never mentioned anything about women to her. Swallowing, I nodded. “Her name is Naomi.”

“Pretty name.”

“She’s…amazing.” After I said it, I realized how insensitive it was. I turned to apologize, but Miriam smiled.

“You’re allowed to have an amazing girlfriend, Dawson. It doesn’t make my daughter any less amazing.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “Her sister has cancer.”

Miriam’s face fell. “I’m so sorry.”

I still couldn’t look Bailey’s mom in the eyes, but the words…the words needed to come out. My insides felt like a shaken bottle of champagne whose top had just popped off. There was so much pressure in my chest, so many bubbles rushing to the surface.

“It’s my fault Bailey died.”

Miriam stilled. “What are you talking about?”

“I was dating Allie Papadopoulos. We were together in the weeks before prom. She had mono, but I didn’t know it yet. Then the night of prom, Bailey wanted me to kiss her and…I gave it to her and she died.”

Miriam let out a big breath. “Oh, Dawson. It’s not your fault Bailey died. Her white blood count was so low those last few months it was practically nonexistent. Bailey was very, very sick.”

“But she could’ve had more time. Instead, she only had weeks.”

“Dawson, look at me. You did not kill Bailey. In fact, I believe in my heart you were a big part of the reason she hung on as long as she did. She adored you, and that kiss you gave her on prom night made her feel normal. I loved her with all of my heart, but I couldn’t give her what you gave her. I couldn’t make her forget about her illness and be a teenager. You could. You did. And for that, I will be eternally grateful to you.”

“But—”

“No, Dawson. There is no but. Bailey had cancer. Her body was riddled with it. The chemo and radiation destroyed her immunity. She could’ve been in a bubble and she wouldn’t have made it. It was her time, sweetheart.”

Tears streamed down my face again. My legs shook, and it felt like I couldn’t hold my own weight any longer. I sank down to the floor, back sliding down the stainless-steel refrigerator, and covered my face with my hands as I sobbed.

Miriam sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. She stroked my hair and whispered for me to let it out over and over again. When the crying finally stopped, she squeezed my shoulder. “Look at me again, Dawson.”

I lifted my head, resting it against the door behind me, and met her eyes.

“You did nothing wrong. Just the opposite. You were the sun on my daughter’s dark days. And you deserve happiness.”

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

Miriam smiled. “Tell me about her. Who is this woman who was finally able to get through to Dawson Reed?”

“I want to let her in. I really do. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t know how to not be terrified.”

She smiled again. “Part of us is always terrified when we’re in love. Love makes us feel vulnerable in so many ways, and that’s scary. But it’s worth it. I promise.” She climbed to her feet and held out her hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

I was emotionally and physically drained, yet I followed her through the house. When we got to Bailey’s bedroom door, I stopped. She opened it and held out a hand to me. “I want you to see what love can be.”

I hesitated but took her hand and let her guide me into Bailey’s bedroom. It looked different, bunk beds in the corner had replaced Bailey’s big bed that was always in the center, and Bailey’s pale pink walls were now lime green with hand drawn artwork hanging all over. I shook my head.

“I don’t understand. You redecorated her room?”

“It’s now Kristy and Kami’s room. They’re eight and identical twins. Six years ago, I decided to open my heart again, so I became a foster parent. I’m in the process of adopting them now.”

“Wow.”

She smiled and looked around. “It was not easy changing things in Bailey’s room. I’d turned it into some sort of a mausoleum after she died. I would come in here and sit for hours. I felt like letting anyone else in here, into my heart, would mean replacing my Bailey. But my girl isn’t replaceable, and there’s enough room in my heart to love more than one child.”

I met Miriam’s eyes and nodded. I understood what she was trying to tell me, even if I couldn’t get out the words just yet.

“Hang on a second. I have some things that I believe belong to you. I moved a box into the attic when the twins moved in. Let me grab it.”

A few minutes later, Miriam came back with three envelopes in her hand. She held them out to me. “I believe these are yours.”

“Are these…”

She nodded and smiled. “My daughter gave them to me a few days before she passed and asked me to hold them for safekeeping. She told me she’d had you write to her every year on her birthday, something about getting your feelings out. Bailey never opened them and neither did I. I don’t know what’s inside, but maybe something in the letters will help?”

I took the envelopes. “Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself, Dawson.” She pulled me in for a hug. “You deserve to be happy. My Bailey would want that.”