Resting my hand on my hip, I look at my feet and nod with a sigh. “I know.”

* * *

From my dad’s lips to my life, what are the chances? There’s a message on my phone after I get out of the shower. Doug Welch, my soon-to-be ex-father-in-law wants to talk to me. He has a favor, but he wants to talk in person, as if I have time to fly across the country on a whim. Not happening. I delete the message.

Vivian will be back in a few hours. That gives me a small window in which to get my shit together. I promised her answers and that’s what she’s going to be expecting. The door upstairs has to be opened and I need to face my fears … face my reality. The problem is I can’t get the sound of Doug’s voice and his message out of my head. What’s his favor? Why does he think we have to talk in person?

It may only be nine in the morning, but I think this day calls for an exception so I grab a beer. Three beers later I pour a glass of Jack and head upstairs. Inverting the cobalt vase, I wait for the key to fall out. Nothing. Where the hell is the key? I try to turn the knob, but it’s locked so I bang on the door … The door that I’ve not wanted to open, until now. I step back and kick it, but it doesn’t budge. It’s possible the alcohol is robbing my strength or my common sense.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call Chance.

“It’s nine-thirty on Sunday, dipshit, what do you want?”

“I need an ax.”

“Okay, Paul. Shall I bring my blue ox too? What the hell do you need an ax for?”

I lean back against the wall and slide down while laughing. “Funny, you’re real funny today.”

“Jesus! You’re drunk and it’s not even ten o’clock.”

“Yeah, well what’s that saying? It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“She dump you again?”

I empty the last few drops of Jack into my mouth. “Who?”

“Viv.”

“No. Why?”

He chuckles. “Uh … no reason. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

After two trips back downstairs to refill my rocks glass, I come up with a brilliant idea. I bring the bottle upstairs with me. Genius … pure genius. My Harvard education is totally paying off.

“Yo, Bro … where are you?”

“In my house.”

Chance chuckles, coming up the stairs. “No shit.”

“Where is it?”

“What?”

I sigh. “The ox, stupid … I—jeez, I mean the ax.” I purse my lips together and squint at the door. “Although I bet an ox could take that door down too.”

“What’s behind the door? Dude! You have a fucking dead bolt on the door. What on Earth?”

I let my head thump back against the wall and close my eyes. “I know. I’m pretty messed up. Don’t tell Mom.” I laugh.

“Where’s the key?”

“It’s in my pocket. I just thought it’d be more fun to bust it down with an ax.” I think my speech slurs, or maybe it’s just my hearing making everything sound slow and muffled. My eyes are so … very … heavy.

“Oliver?”

I’m tired … too tired.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s behind the door?”

The world’s fading … “Melanie.”

* * *

Vivian

A wispy, free feeling floats inside me on the train back to Boston. I had a transcendent moment with my parents yesterday. All my fears of how they would react to my lies and deception vanished. The words came to me without hesitation. I saw so much love and understanding in their eyes mixed with their own anguish and guilt. As much as I tried to convince myself that I was protecting them by lying about college, the truth is … I was protecting myself. I didn’t want to face their disappointment in themselves for not making enough money, or watch them continue to feel pity for me. The tears were plentiful, the moment was raw, but in the end everything was out, and I feel closer to my parents than I have ever felt before.

Now I’m dying to see Oliver. I miss him. All I can think about is leather work boots and his hot, naked body pressed against mine. His smile … I love his smile, especially when it gets so big both dimples appear. I’m sure if I could see past my complete infatuation with him, I’d see his flaws. Maybe he has some birthmark I haven’t discovered, or the veins in his hands are too prominent. It’s possible he walks pigeon-toed, but I haven’t noticed. Oliver can’t be perfect, I know that, but he’s perfect for me.

Chance’s truck is parked behind Oliver’s car on the street. Alex’s car is there too, so I decide to take my bags home since attacking my man in front of his brother might not be good etiquette.

“Hey, Flower! How was your weekend?”

I drop my bags on the floor by the stairs. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” She glances over her shoulder at me.

“I mean, you’re cooking and…” I glance at the cooling racks filled with cookies. “…baking.”

“Yeah, so?”

I take one of the bite-sized sugar cookies and pop it in my mouth. “Are your parents coming or something?” I mumble over a mouthful.

“No. I’m just getting back into practice. I haven’t done much in the kitchen for a while.”

I raise a single brow at her. “You’re acting too weird, even for you. What’s going on?”

She turns and licks some cream sauce off her fingers, lingering when she gets to her left ring finger.

“Oh my God!” I grab her hand gawking at the huge princess-cut diamond.

“I’m getting married!”

I can’t peel my eyes off the mammoth rock. “Yeah you are. Holy crap, where did Sean get the money for this?”

“It was actually from a necklace that his grandfather gave his grandmother. Sean had it put into this platinum band. You like?”

I pull her in for a hug. “It’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”

“Good, I hope you still feel that way when I tell you that you have six months to plan the best bachelorette party ever, Maid of Honor.”

“What, me?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back around to the stove. “Duh, of course you.”

“Why so soon? Are you pregnant? I knew that outfit-thingy he was wearing the other day would get you into trouble.”

“Yeah, Flower. I got pregnant on Friday. Saturday he drove to Jersey to get the diamond, had it mounted and sized on Sunday, and proposed right after I peed on the stick this morning.” She laughs. “No, I’m not pregnant. His older brother will be back from Africa for a week over Christmas. Remember I told you Dillon’s in the Peace Corps?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Anyway, Sean decided he wanted to seize the rare opportunity of having his whole family here so he proposed.”

“So you’re not pregnant?”

She laughs again. “No, Flower, I’m not pregnant. But you’d better make nice with neighbor boy because once I move in with Sean…” she turns and gives me a sly grin “…well, officially, then my parents are selling this place.”

“Speaking of neighbor boy. What the hell kind of birthday present was that supposed to be?”

“Ahh, it’s the deluxe version of the model I bought for you right after you moved in. I have one too. Isn’t it a-mazing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. Once it fell out of the sack and onto the floor in front of my parents and Oliver, I sort of lost the mood to try it out.”

“No way!”

“Way … as in way embarrassing. I’ve been having the best sex of my life so why did you think I would need that?”

Alex chuckles. “Flower, first, you’ve been having the only sex of your life, so technically it’s the best and the worst. Second, it can be used as an adjunct to all the kink you and neighbor boy have already been doing.”

I bite at the peeling skin on my lower lip. “That’s what Oli alluded to as well. So, how does that work. I use it in front of him? He uses it on me? I use it on him?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. You guys into anal?”

“What?” I gasp.

She shrugs while draining the pasta. “It was just a question.”

“Anal me or anal him … or … ugh, never mind! No to both anyway. How could you even ask me that?”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Maybe you should watch a little guy-on-guy porn. It’s hot as in capital H.O.T. It might change your mind.”

“You are definitely Maggie’s niece. Are your parents into this stuff too?”

“Ooo, yuck, gross! Why did you say that? Now when I see them it’s all I’m going to think about.”

Yeah, like my images of her tied to her bed and Sean in chaps and a cowboy hat.

“Think about what? Your mom wearing a strap-on penis? ‘Spread ’em, Mark. You’ve been a naughty boy.’ ‘Harder, Annabelle!’”

“STOP!” Alex squeezes her eyes shut and sticks her fingers in her ears while stomping her feet.

I laugh. “That’s for not locking your door before the rodeo.” I steal another cookie. “I’m going to unpack then go see Oliver.”

“I’m going to vomit then have a voluntary lobotomy!” She slings a sticky piece of spaghetti at me as I head toward the stairs.

* * *

I skip down the front steps. Glass scars? What glass scars? A pang of disappointment hits me when I see Chance’s truck still there. Maybe he’ll take the hint and leave when he sees me salivating through labored breaths at his brother.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

I hear voices as I near the stairs. They become clearer as I tiptoe my way upstairs.

“I think you should stop drinking.”

“Why?”

“Well, once you pass out the party is over.”

“I didn’t pass out … I took a nap.”

“You passed out.”

“How would you know? You’re wasted too.” Oliver chuckles.

“I’m not drunk.”

“You broke your ax on my door.”

“Okay, I’m a little wasted.”

“Viv-i-an’s going to be here … soon. You should go.”

“You should let her go. You’re fucked-up and you’re just going to break her heart.”

“You’re right—”

“He’s right?” I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, startling both of them. “Is that what I heard you say?” My jaw clenches while I squint at him. “I thought we had this conversation! Stop jerking me around. Either you want to be with me or you don’t. But I’m fed up with you acting like some martyr willing to give me up even if it kills you just because you think it’s best for me. Either you’re in or out! So what’s it going to be?”

He struggles to stand up, but falls right back down on his butt. Chance laughs.

“What’s so goddamn funny? What’s wrong with the two of you? Why are you both sitting in the hall, drunk off your asses, in the middle of the day?” I look to my left at the door. There’s an ax stuck in it with the handle broken off. I pull the key out of my pocket and dangle it in front of them. “Seems a little less destructive than an ax, don’t you think?”

Oliver goes to grab it, but I pull it away. “Why do you have my key?”

“I slipped it in my pocket the other day and forgot it was there. I have it now because I was planning on returning it. Now answer me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as if that’s going to help him sober up. “What was the question again?”

“Ugh! Are you keeping me or cutting me loose? Why are you both drunk? And what the hell is the meaning behind the pillow with a photo of your dead daughter sitting on top of it in the middle of an otherwise empty room?” I point to the door.

Chance looks at Oliver. “Bro, you kept the pil—”

“Get out!” Oliver grits through his teeth.

“That’s so fuc—”

“GET. OUT!”

Chance crawls to his feet and stumbles to the stairs.

“Don’t you dare drive home,” I say to Chance, still glaring at Oliver.

“I’ll call for a ride,” he replies on his way down the stairs.

Oliver bows his head and rubs his temples. “My head is killing me. So pick one.”

“What?”

“Pick the question that matters most right now.”

I kneel down between his bent legs. He looks up at me with heart-wrenching emotion in his glossy blue eyes.

“Are you letting me go?” I whisper with such fear of his answer smacking me in the face.

“Never.”

I nod. “Okay then.” Releasing a sigh of desperate relief, we embrace like we’re holding on for life.

* * *

My back screams in protest while my body temperature approaches boiling point. We’re still in the hallway. Oliver has half his body draped over mine and his head is on my chest. I’m not sure how long we’ve been asleep, hopefully long enough for the alcohol to clear his system.