One Week Hating You: One Week Series Book 2 (standalone) Read online

  For the first time in my life, I really don’t know what to do. Which road do I go down? In which direction do I turn?

  I wish you could tell me. I wish I had all the answers.

  Later, Journal.

  M

  The Wi-Fi at Momma’s is a little mercurial. One day, it’s your best friend, and the next, it’s moody and refuses to hang out with you. Thankfully, today it seems to be in a good mood. I lean against my old princess bed headboard, buried in a hodgepodge of pillows. My laptop is pressed comfortably on my thighs.

  Momma is out in her garden. When she asked if I’d like to help, I smiled and suddenly had something else to do, anything. I’m no green thumb. “Um… I actually should work on the job search,” I told her. She smirked, knowing exactly what I was up to.

  I pore over all the listings, quickly eliminating the ones that don’t apply. I have a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for; something in retail, something fun. I sigh at all the low-paying jobs: sales/cashier part-time positions at The Gap, Guess, American Eagle – jobs I’m overqualified for, jobs any pretty high school girl could get. I exhale a long breath and am just about to give up when I spot an interesting posting; Store Manager at a women’s clothing store in the Burlington Town Center. The salary is promising and the duties are right up my alley, very similar to the ones I had at my last job. With my glowing references, I should be a shoo-in. I jot down some notes and decide to expand my search. The world is my oyster.

  There are quite a few positions available out of Burlington, but nothing great enough to pull me away from my life and my friends. I check out one last position. I doubt that I would even qualify for it, but curiosity gets the best of me. Macy’s is looking for a Buyer for their children’s clothing division – the job is in Chicago. Before moving to Burlington, I had a brief job as an assistant for a buyer for Saks, in New York.

  Shopping for a living… the perfect job? With my experience in the children’s clothing industry, and my job at Saks, I might have a shot. And Chicago is such an amazing, exciting city. I get giddy at the idea of this job, at the possibility of a brand new life. It’s crazy.

  It might be crazy, but I still jot down the info.

  “If you’re not going to help me out in the garden,” I hear Momma calling out. “You’ll have to get dinner started. Throw some pasta on.”

  I sigh. Spaghetti tonight. I smile and hop off the bed. There’s no rest for the weary at Momma’s place.

  We’re all having a blast, with the exception of Blake, of course. He’s frustrated as hell, struggling to get the blue ball through the clown’s nose. He’s had three shots at it so far, but it keeps bouncing back. He’s really hopeless at this game – it’s kind of fun to watch.

  I roll my ball in the palm of my hand as I watch him struggle. He’s about to lose it. I stifle a laugh. Maddie and Jake are just as entertained as I am, both grinning widely.

  I could do this all day… watch Blake struggle. I’m not sure why it brings me so much pleasure. He turns back and scowls at me, at all of us. Jake breaks into laughter.

  It’s cool but it’s a beautiful day. I’m so glad I decided to tag along – we used to play here as kids all the time. The circus themed mini-golf hasn’t changed at all, although it’s a little bit worse for wear. It all brings back so many memories; the clown, the carousel, the hot air balloon, the elephant and the tiger. The landscaping is as pristine as ever. The mini-golf will be closing down for the season soon, which is the reason Maddie and Jake wanted to get one last round in. Although, like Marilyn mentioned, I think there was more to it. Maddie keeps eyeing Blake and me, full of smiles. She keeps encouraging us to stand next to each other and sit together.

  It’s actually kind of sweet.

  I don’t tell her that Blake broke my heart years ago, that I never know where I’m at with him, that we lead completely different lives, hours apart. I really don’t want to burst her bubble.

  And I can’t exactly tell her that he makes my heart beat faster, that every time I see him, I want to touch him, that he’s the best sex I’ve ever had.

  He finally gets the ball in and two puts later, he’s over his limit. “That’s a six for me again,” he scoffs.

  I’m up next. I set the orange ball down on the AstroTurf, I take my stance, and hold the club steady. I rock my hips, and stick out my behind just so. I catch a glimpse of Blake who’s totally checking me out – in his defence, my skirt is very short.

  With a smooth stroke, I send the ball rolling right through the clown’s mouth, and down to the hole. It almost makes it in, bouncing to settle just a foot off – it looks like a score of two for me.

  “Oh, c’mon,” Blake scoffs, not amused in the least.

  I smirk at him. “Be a good sport now,” I tease as I put the ball in.

  He smiles and shakes his head.

  Maddie is up next. She’s pretty good too, and so is Jake. The only one who sucks at this game is Blake.

  He’s clearly frustrated, but he’s still so good with the kids, fooling around with them and making them laugh. He’s a big kid himself.

  He looks so good today in his beige khakis and white V neck long sleeve. His summer tan and dark wavy hair look amazing against the white of his shirt. I love this dressed-up version of him.

  I know I’ll miss this.

  Maddie writes down everyone’s score on the scorecard, and we move along to the next hole. Blake is up again. This one looks even more challenging than the last one.

  She inches closer to me. “Uncle Blake looks really handsome today, don’t you think?”

  I almost break out laughing. “Um… yes, I guess.”

  “He’s tall like my dad,” she goes on, “and he’s a really good fisherman.”

  “Is he now?” I say, humoring her.

  “If you were married to him, you’d have fish every day for the rest of your life,” she points out matter-of-factly. She presses a finger on her bottom lip. “Well, maybe not in the winter. You do love fish, don’t you?”

  I smile. “I do.”

  “He’s really good with kids,” she adds. “He’s the best uncle in the whole world, better than uncle Tim.”

  I stifle a laugh. She’s really selling him.

  Meanwhile, Blake is totally losing it – he’s not doing well on this hole either. He throws his club at the elephant.

  “Um… he does have a bit of a temper though,” I point out.

  “Well,” she says. “If you were married, I would suggest never mini golfing with him.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Blake has given up and thrown his ball into a nearby bush. “I really hate this game,” he snaps.

  We’re all laughing now – it’s very comical. Why is it so funny watching someone lose it? Why do we take so much joy in other’s pain?

  I go next and get another great score. I do a little victory dance, rubbing it in.

  “You’re such a little show-off,” Blake says.

  I smirk and stick out my tongue at him. “I’m not a show-off. I’m just good.”

  The game is done, and the final scores are in. I’m first, followed by Maddie, then Jake, and finally, Blake, with an embarrassingly high score.

  He huffs and puffs as we walk out of the mini-golf and make our way to the ice cream place around the corner. It’s the perfect spot to hang out, right next to the park.

  As we order our treats, Blake chats up the guy at the counter. “Closing up shop soon?”

  “Yep, right after the weekend,” he tells him.

  “Makes sense. Kind of getting chilly for ice cream.”

  There’s no line-up today. In the summer months, this place is packed and it can sometimes take up to ten minutes to get your ice cream, but it’s so good here, it’s worth it. My favorite flavor is Tiger Tail.

  It’s quiet today. Usually the downtown is filled with people, kids, dogs, strollers, laughter and chatter. Westbrooke is a great town to raise a family.

  We settle down
at a nearby picnic table with our treats. Tiger Tail for me, Chocolate Mint for Blake, and Bubble Gum for Maddie and Jake.

  We chat about the game, and all try to go easy on Blake. We praise his many other skills; fishing, construction, pie baking, fire building, storytelling, and according to Maddie, he’s a great Barbie dresser… who knew?

  We all savor our ice cream down to the last lick. I think about Peter – he wouldn’t be caught dead eating this stuff. God forbid, he ever gains an extra pound.

  The kids run off to the park, and we watch them play for the longest time. They’re still so sweet. It won’t be long before they lose that childlike innocence, before they won’t want to play tag and hang out in playparks.

  Maddie is hanging from the jungle gym, and Jake is at the top of the slide, helping a toddler go down safely – such a sweet boy. The toddler’s mother smiles up at him. Marilyn would be proud.

  Maddie falls but she recovers quickly. She’s a tough cookie, just like her mom.

  “I’m sorry,” Blake says, his words soft.

  I turn to him. “Why? For acting like a child on the course?”

  He smirks. “No. It’s a stupid game. That was completely justified behavior.”

  I laugh. “Remind me to never go mini-golfing with you again.”

  His smile fades. “No… I’m sorry for the way I acted last night,” he tells me. “On the swing. When I pushed you off me.”

  “You were upset.”

  “It’s nagged at me all night,” he goes on. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was just my old temper acting up again.”

  “It’s okay, Blake.”

  “I was just so pissed off,” he continues. “I thought I’d be cool with it, but turns out I don’t like being your play-toy. I don’t like being used.”

  He’s rendered me speechless. Yes, I’m using him. I can’t deny it. I thought he was using me too.

  “I wanted to kiss you,” he says. “God, did I want to kiss you.”

  His words wash me with warmth and make me want to reach out and kiss him.

  I wanted to kiss you too.

  He runs a hand through his hair and rubs at his beard. “I don’t want to be your rebound fuck, Maeve.”

  Rebound fuck. Is that really what he is?

  “I usually don’t have a problem with being a rebound fuck,” he tells me. “Been there more than once. But with you… it’s different, with you...”

  I swallow. “How is it different?” I really want to know. How am I different from all the other women he’s been with?

  He shakes his head and darts up from the bench. “I don’t know… it’s just different.”

  Then he’s gone, heading toward the kids, leaving me to ponder his words, to wonder what exactly I am to him, and what he is to me.

  21

  “WINTER IS COMING SOON,” Momma says. She’s wearing her favorite fall jacket, one she’s had for years, outdated and frayed at the cuffs. She’s also wearing the colorful scarf I gave her last Christmas.

  The air is chilly tonight, and there’s an unforgiving wind, hinting at more cold to come. “I think you’re right.”

  Despite the cold, it’s nice to walk with Momma, just like old times. We used to love to walk the neighbourhood this time of year and look at all the neighboring homes, decorated for Halloween; pumpkins, scarecrows, skeletons and witches. Each one of us would pick our favorite homes. “Do you still make those cookies for Halloween?” I ask. Back in the day, a long time ago, when everyone used to know everyone, Momma used to make cookies, tuck them in small Halloween bags, and hand them out. Everyone loved my Momma’s cookies.

  She shakes her head. “No, I stopped that years ago. You can’t do that these days.” she says, her words laced with sarcasm. “Who knows what you might hide in there.”

  “True,” I say. “You are pretty evil. I could totally see you poisoning all the kids in the neighbourhood.”

  She cracks up, that hearty chuckle I love so much; the kind of laughter that makes people turn around and want in on the joke. Her laughter fades as we keep walking.

  We fall into silence and simply appreciate our surroundings. I can’t remember the last time I just walked, with no destination in mind, and just enjoyed the sights.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Maeve,” she finally says. “I don’t say it because I don’t want you to feel guilty, but I miss you so much.”

  My heart warms. “I know you miss me, Momma,” I tell her. “I miss you too… so much.”

  We forge ahead quietly, down the tree topped street. Dead leaves line the road; patches of orange, red, and yellow dot the ground. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited more often, Momma.”

  She smiles at me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’re very busy.”

  I stare straight ahead, not quite able to look at her in the eye. “I’m sorry I left.”

  I don’t need to say more. She knows exactly what I’m talking about, the day I abandoned my whole family in search of a new life, a new identity. The day I decided to become someone else, someone my own family didn’t recognize at times. Blake was right… I’ve changed. And I’m not sure the change was for the best.

  “I understood, Maeve,” Momma tells me. “We all did. It was a horrible time. I think we all wanted to run away, away from the pain. I couldn’t run away… I had kids to look after. Tim was still young, and he had nowhere to turn to either. And Marilyn… she had Brian, thankfully.”

  That familiar ache sticks in my throat and threatens to break me in pieces. “You were probably hurting the most… I should have stayed with you.”

  Momma suddenly stops walking, and I turn on my heel to face her. Her eyes are brimming. “You know what a mother wants the most in life, Maeve?” she asks, her words cracked at the edges.

  I stand still, speechless.

  “She wants her children’s happiness,” she tells me. “Trust me, you’ll understand when you have little ones of your own.”

  I smile down at her. In my heeled boots, I’m about four inches taller than her.

  “I was glad you could run away, sweetie,” she goes on. “I was happy you had somewhere to run to.” A tear escapes and slides down her cheek. She catches it with the tip of her gloved finger. “I just wanted you to be happy. It’s all I ever wanted for all my children.”

  “We were, Momma,” I assure her. “We were.”

  We resume walking. “How is Tim these days?” I ask. “I’ve barely had a chance to talk to him.”

  She smiles. “He’s doing all right, still obsessed with cars.”

  “I’d forgotten how much I love this place,” I tell her. A young woman with a stroller walks by and shoots us a friendly smile. Her little girl is grinning widely – she’s a happy camper. “These past few days have been amazing.” Blake suddenly comes to mind. I blush and stifle a smile.

  Momma raises a brow. “You and Blake have been spending a lot of time together,” she points out in a sing-song voice. I know exactly what she’s getting at, and she’s obviously spot-on. Momma is no idiot.

  “Well, Marilyn keeps throwing us together.”

  She laughs. “I’m not sure if it’s her or Maddie. I’m afraid little Maddie is trying to play matchmaker.”

  I smile. “That’s cute, but I doubt she’ll be successful. Blake and I just don’t mix.” A little voice in my head tells me that we mix pretty well together.

  Momma shakes her head. “Why would you want to get along all the time?” she says. “That’s boring. Your daddy and I used to fight all the time, but we loved each other like crazy.”

  Yes, I remember the fights. Both my parents were strong characters, and my dad had a legendary temper. Though they fought a lot, you could always feel the love. They’d always make up, and be more in love than before. We never worried – I know I certainly didn’t. Our house was just like that… loud, brash, and full of passion.

  My mother loved my dad more than anyone on earth, and that’s why she was destroyed when he die
d. Absolutely wrecked. It took me for a loop – seeing my usually strong mother falling to pieces. I just couldn’t handle it. So I ran away, and abandoned the person who loved me the most in this world, for a life I told myself was worth it.

  I told myself that Peter loved me just as much, but did he?

  I think Momma’s reaction to Daddy’s passing really affected me, affected the way I viewed relationships, made me afraid to love too deeply, to care too much.

  “I’ve always loved Blake,” Momma goes on. To my dismay, the Blake Taylor conversation is not over. “He’s such a sweetheart. Did you know he mows my lawn and does all my landscaping? He shovels my snow too. I mean… he’s right next door, and Tim’s pretty far away and so busy. Although Blake is just as busy with all his businesses, yet he still makes the time. And not to mention the fact that he’s given me a job,” she goes on.

  “Why didn’t you tell me he owned Jake’s and Main Street Deli?” I ask. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  She sighs audibly. “Well, you asked me not to mention him, so I didn’t. Every time I brought him up, you’d get all touchy.”

  “True.” Can’t deny that.

  “Did you know that he also makes me homemade muffins every week?”

  I smile. “No, I didn’t. I wonder if he makes muffins for all his girlfriends too,” I add, stirring things up a little.

  She waves a hand in the air. “He doesn’t have girlfriends.”

  “He doesn’t?” I say. “Weren’t you the one who told me you saw a skinny blonde heading out of his house at six in the morning once, and what about last month… it was a redhead, wasn’t it?”

  She shakes her head. “Those were just booty calls, Maeve.”

  I laugh out loud. For some reason, the words ‘booty call’ coming out of Momma’s mouth are really funny.

  “A man has needs, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” I say. Yes, I know all about Blake Taylor’s needs. Actually, I can’t seem to forget about his needs. And mine.