Unfixable Page 9

  Hearing my nickname, Wip, short for Willa Ingrid Peet, I squeak—yes squeak—before shooting to my feet and scrambling to the other side of the desk. And Ginger is there, on the screen, smiling back at me. She looks tired as hell, her long chestnut hair in a haphazard bun, eyes sleep-blurred and puffy. On the flip side, she’s never looked more beautiful in her life. She looks…peaceful. Weighed down with love.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  I clear the choked feeling from my throat. “Would it have been so hard to keep the baby in until I got back?”

  “You know us Peet women.” Her eyes twinkle. “We have minds of our own.”

  My laughter is halting. “Truer words…”

  Ginger looks somewhere just beyond the screen. “She must have gotten her punctuality from Derek. I’ve never been early for a damn thing in my life.”

  “Except maybe a hair appointment.”

  “A girl’s got to have her priorities.” Squinting, Ginger leans closer. “Are you wearing fuchsia? What happened to yakety yak, I only wear black?”

  “Don’t get excited. It’s laundry day.”

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with—”

  “No,” I cut her off, shooting a nervous glance at Shane.

  Only he’s gone, along with Faith, leaving me alone in the room. His sudden absence causes a weird, hollow feeling to invade my stomach, just for a brief flash. It hits me then that I wanted him to be standing there. But I can’t think about it now, though. Not when I have a rare chance to see and talk to Ginger at the same time. I hear Derek’s voice in the background, and then he hands Ginger my niece. I’m looking at my sister’s child.

  “Meet your niece, Dolly Tyler.”

  While I work to get my feelings under control, I press a fist to my mouth. “Hey, Dolly. That’s a pretty big name to live up to.” As if responding, she gurgles a little and we laugh.

  Ginger is looking down at her daughter with so much pride, I’m kind of transfixed by it. It’s a miracle, really. No one ever looked at us that way, yet here is proof we still have the capacity to love. “I don’t know. This little lady might give even the Backwoods Barbie a run for her money.”

  “I wouldn’t bet against her.”

  Ginger looks up at me and for a moment, it’s like the miles between us don’t exist. “Holy hell. I’m a mom, Wip.”

  “Yeah, you are. The best damn one she could have hoped for.” Once upon a time, it would have been difficult, saying how I feel to Ginger. Since we moved to Chicago, though, I’m getting better at it. Well, with my sister, at least. “Jesus, look how beautiful she is. I thought babies were supposed to be ugly.”

  Ginger laughs and shakes her head, knowing me well enough to know I’m deflecting with an attempt at humor. And as usual, she lets it slide. “You should see what comes out of her.”

  “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  Derek sits down next to Ginger on the bed, looking at her as though she’s just descended into the hospital room wearing wings, a heavenly chorus singing behind her. Their eyes meet and I watch as a silent communication passes between them. “Willa, we want you to be the godmother. I know it goes without saying, but well…we wanted it said.”

  It doesn’t go without saying. The possibility of being a godmother had never crossed my mind. Caught off guard, I just stare at the screen.

  Derek’s laugh rumbles through the laptop speakers. “Is that a yes?”

  “Y-yes. That’s a yes.” Shit, I’m crying again. Twice in less than twenty-four hours. Unacceptable. With some advance warning, I might have been able to accept my new status with something resembling dignity, but instead I’m a mess. With the backs of my hands, I swipe at my eyes. “You guys suck.”

  They know exactly what I mean, so they just smile and shake their heads.

  “Ginger, how did this happen?” I encompass the laptop with a wave.

  “Derek got a call from the photography contest people last night. Someone from the Claymore Inn was trying to get in touch with us. We assumed it was you, but—”

  “It was Shane Claymore.” Derek scrutinizes me closely, ever the cop and overprotective brother-in-law. “He asked if we had a laptop, which I did, since I’ve been working from the hospital. I downloaded the program he sent me…and here we are. So who is he?”

  I sigh at the loaded question, just as the scribbled notes scattered around the desk catch my attention. Phone numbers and names I recognize from the photography contest. Derek’s cell phone number. Shane had done quite a lot of work to arrange this chance for me to see my sister, my niece. I remember the circles under his eyes and frown.

  “I’m not sure who he is,” I say to myself, forgetting for the moment Derek and Ginger can hear me. My attention snaps back to them. “Listen, take care of my beautiful goddaughter. And Derek, make sure my sister gets some sleep,” I add, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt he’ll follow through. “I miss you guys, dammit. I’ll call soon.”

  Ginger is becoming distracted as the baby begins to fuss. Derek stands up at the side of the bed, holding a diaper and a glass of water, looking prepared for anything. “Bye, Wip. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Oh, that narrows it down,” I respond, but my sarcasm is lost on them. “Bye, guys.”

  I close the laptop and take a deep breath. My chest feels heavy with a multitude of messy emotions. Gratitude, surprise, love…a touch of melancholy. I close my eyes to regain my bearings, but all I can see is Shane, the one who made the last five unexpected, amazing minutes of my life possible. To some people, a few phone calls wouldn’t be a big deal. To me, it’s huge.

  I don’t think anymore. I just get up and leave the office. It’s obvious where I’m going, but I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get there.

  As soon as I push through the hallway door and enter the pub, I see him standing behind the bar. I see no one else in the pub, and a quick glance tells me Faith is outside, waiting for me on the sidewalk in front of the inn. The sound of the swinging door alerts him to my presence and his back stiffens a little, but he doesn’t turn, just continuing to clean the bar with a white cloth. Even though he doesn’t acknowledge me, my steps don’t falter, I don’t pause on my way behind the bar.

  When I’m a few yards away, Shane turns. “Look, don’t make a big thing out of—” He cuts himself off when he glimpses my expression. Then he drops the rag and meets me halfway. I’m caught up in his arms a second later, legs wrapped snugly around his waist. Shane grips my bottom with one big hand and buries the other in my hair, searching my eyes. I’m not ready to let him see everything, so I pull his head down to mine. And kiss him for all I’m worth.

  I angle my mouth across his, encouraged by his ragged groan. When his teeth rake over my lower lip, my thighs tighten around his hips, and I deepen the kiss further. For the first time, I’m kissing him without a single reservation, and the effect of that freedom is devastating. Blood pounds in my temples, aches form in places I didn’t know could ache from a kiss. The hand on my bottom is urging me closer, causing my control to desert me.

  Shane senses the shift in me, the end of my restraint. I can tell because he pulls back, shhing against my lips. “As much as I’d love to take you on this bloody bar, Willa, this isn’t how I want you the first time.” He brushes his mouth across my cheek to my ear. “There’ll be a time for this. Soon. Feel me, love.” His hips rolls beneath mine. “That’s a promise.”

  After a few breaths, I nod, forcing my thighs to loosen so my body can slide down his harder one. Shane steadies me with a firm hand on my shoulder, but nothing can stop what’s taking place inside of me. Swallowing hard, I meet his blue gaze. “What you did…thank you.”

  “I need you to understand something.” He tips my chin up. “I didn’t do it so to encourage your decision one way or the other. I need that to be clear.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, unable to question his sincerity
when he’s looking at me with such intensity. “Why did you do it?”

  He goes still, and then his hand slips from my face. “Maybe I know what it’s like. The guilt over not being there when someone needs you.”

  More than anything, I want to question him further, but Faith raps on the window. Immediately, I step back, ducking my head. Not because I’m ashamed, but because it’s a moment taking place between us and I don’t want someone else to witness it.

  “Whatever the reason you did it…” I shrug helplessly. “I won’t ever forget it. When I go home…forty years from now when you’ve forgotten me, I’ll remember. Okay? Thank you.”

  I don’t wait for Shane’s response, but turn quickly and leave the pub before I give into the temptation to throw myself back into his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  “Are you shagging my brother, then?”

  My first sip of orange juice gets stuck in my throat. Pedestrians veer around me as I choke and sputter like an asshole on the sidewalk. It’s not a planned or convenient stall tactic, but at least my coughing fit gives me time to formulate a decent answer to Faith’s innocently posed question. There are two ways I could handle this, I figure. Tell her the truth, which is no and leave out the fact that shagging Shane is beginning to seem like an idea on par with the invention of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Or I could put on my big girl panties and be completely honest.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Faith tilts her head and I can tell she’s now seeing me through a different lens. The girl-who-wants-to-shag-my-brother lens. I’ve had quite a bit of experience with something similar, since every man with a pair of eyes has wanted to sleep with my sister at some point. In the beginning, it was uncomfortable knowledge to have, but you learn to control the gagging after a while. In Faith’s case, I’m willing to bet she has encountered her fair share of girls looking to get the inside track on Shane. Since I know what that feels like, my first obstacle will be to make damn certain she knows I won’t be needling her for pointers on how to secure Shane’s undying love. I don’t want it.

  “Listen, Faith—”

  “You know, he’s leaving.”

  I nod and sip my juice. “So am I.”

  She stares at some point beyond my shoulder. “He always leaves.”

  I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m afraid if I push, she’ll think I’m digging for information. This casual-shagging business is difficult to navigate.

  “So it’s just an affair?”

  I swallow a laugh. “I don’t know if I’d call it an affair, since nothing’s happened. Also, we’re not actors in an old-timey movie.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “Temporary.”

  Faith starts walking again and I move to catch up with her. When I feel a little surge of panic at the possibility she doesn’t want any more to do with me, I realize I’ve already come to consider Faith a friend. Dammit, she’s found a way to creep in, just like Shane told me she would. “Does this bother you, because if it does—”

  “It’s not the shagging that bothers me—”

  “Let’s agree to drop that word.”

  Faith frowns. “Fine. It’s not the fu—”

  “And back to shagging.”

  We reach the edge of Merrion Square Park and begin walking down a pathway leading us farther into the grassy field. Absently, I notice the park is way more packed than usual, but I chalk it up to the rare sunshine. Faith has gone quiet beside me, for once, so I focus on her. “What part of it does bother you?”

  “It’s just that I like you so much, Willa.” Faith slows to a stop, shooting me a hesitant look. “Since I can remember, Shane has loved racing. It’s his life. Sometimes I think there’s no room for anything else.”

  Without looking, I toss my empty juice carton in the garbage can. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need him to make room.”

  “Do you have room, Willa?”

  I swallow hard, unnerved by the question. “For what?”

  She opens her mouth to answer, when I hear two familiar voices approaching behind me. Faith’s blooming smile confirms the newcomers’ identities, so I don’t even need to turn around to know its Patrick and Brian. “I thought we were going shopping,” I stage-whisper to Faith.

  “You owe me.” She’s barely paying any attention to me now. “After all, you’re shagging my brother.”

  “Not yet,” I remind her tightly as Faith floats past me, turning just in time to see her throw her arms around Brian’s neck, nearly toppling him back onto the weathered guitar slung over his shoulder. And there certainly won’t be any shagging if Shane finds out I just escorted his little sister to a date with a pickpocket. There’ll be a lot of glaring, followed by some glowering.

  When Brian and Faith show no signs of breaking their hug, Patrick rolls his eyes conspiratorially at me, but he has a giant grin plastered to his face. “Fancy meeting you two doves here.”

  “You expect me to believe this is a coincidence?”

  Brian tucks Faith into his side. “It’s no coincidence. Yous two are here to serve as our cheerleaders.”

  Patrick laughs at my lost expression. “The Street Performer World Championship is on today in the park. Did you not wonder at all the people milling about?”

  “I thought they were here for the sun,” I respond lamely, finally taking notice of the huge white tents just beyond the trees, the pumping strains of music and cheering in the distance. “Does this mean you’re performing?”

  “And winning, hopefully,” Brian chimes in, smiling down at Faith. “Although you could say I’ve already won my prize.”

  Patrick and I both groan. “You’re embarrassing the family name, brother,” he says.

  It occurs to me then, that in order to arrange this little meeting, Brian would have needed Faith’s phone number. Obviously their relationship had progressed further than I’d thought. I’ll need to keep an eye on that, I think, before I remember I’ll only be in Dublin for another two weeks. Ignoring the tug in my chest, I sigh. “Well. Since we’re already here, I guess I can overlook the fact that I was lured away from my laundry under false pretenses and stick around for the show. I forgot my pom-poms, though.”

  “Throw in a few high kicks and all’s forgiven,” Patrick says, patting me on the shoulder.

  Brian and Faith trudge off ahead of us, plastered to one another’s side, and Patrick and I follow at a slower pace. I’m kind of surprised to find I’m not at all upset over being duped. As we get closer to the busker’s stage where Brian and Patrick will perform, I’m actually kind of excited to watch the competition. I might even have a beer to celebrate this new, easygoing Willa I seem to be morphing into.

  Patrick bumps me with his hip, and I stumble on the grass. “What was that?”

  “Did I overhear that someone is shagging?”

  “Jesus,” I mutter, slapping a palm to my forehead.

  “I know it’s not me. Sad to report, I’m in the midst of a dry spell.”

  Laughter races up my throat. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am.” He hikes up his guitar on his back. “So we know it’s not me getting shagged. It sure as hell isn’t Brian. We share a wall.”

  “Oh, you found another place to live?”

  “Ah, she’s talented at changing the subject, she is,” he teases with a grin. “We’ve moved back in with our ma. It’s only temporary, mind you, until our offer on the yacht gets accepted.”

  “Duly noted,” I say with mock seriousness.

  “It should be any day. Really, our financials are above reproach.”

  I press a dainty hand to my chest. “I’m sorry, did I look skeptical?”

  “Permanently.”

  “That’s entirely fair.”

  “So unless I’ve completely misjudged our Faith, I’d say Willa is the one doing the shagging.” He ignores my eye roll, merely looking thoughtful. “Is it the bloke who came to fetch you t
hat night in O’Kelly’s? I guess he’s easy enough on the eyes, if you go for the tall, physically fit type.”

  “This is not open for discussion.”

  “It’s him, then.” Patrick jogs to catch up with me when I begin to speed walk away from him. “All right, I’ll leave off about it. You can’t blame me for being jealous. He’s a lucky man.”

  My gaze shoots to his, but he’s already muttering something to Brian. His brother says back something that sounds like an insult and they begin to wrestle in the grass, to the utter delight of Faith, whose skin has already begun to go pink in the sunlight. I’m happy, at least for now, the spotlight is off my nonrelationship with Shane. I haven’t even had enough time to think about it myself, let alone field uncomfortable and unwanted questions. Worse, when people talk about me and Shane in relation to one another, it implies we’re a couple, which we’re not and never will be.

  When I realize my fingers are pressed to my still slightly puffy lips, I shake myself and run to catch up with the others. For the next few hours, I’m not going to let my suddenly raging hormones stop me from having a good time.

  Patrick and Brian check-in as participants and receive their entry paperwork. We buy a round of beers and sit on the grass toward the side of the performance area. For the next hour, we watch their stiff competition take the stage. Jugglers, contortionists and break dancers among them. Faith sits on Brian’s lap and he teachers her a few chords on his guitar, praising her efforts even when it sounds like a cat being run over. My developing beer buzz, along with the sunshine makes the antics happening on the stage infinitely more funny. Soon I find myself heckling or cheering along with the rest of the crowd.

  In between acts, I lay on my back and look up at the cloudless sky, wondering why my usual reservations have taken an extended vacation. Is it because no one in this country knows or expects a certain type of behavior from me that I feel so free to loosen up?

  People like us, we keep too much inside already. We can’t bottle up everything or we go crazy.

  Shane’s words from last night drop out of the sky and scatter across my prone figure. At the time, I thought his meaning had been purely physical, but now I wonder if there wasn’t more to it. For so long, I’ve kept all my demons inside, just as he said. I’d released them one at a time to Evan in a way that wouldn’t scare the hell out of him, but it hadn’t freed me. Oddly, it had only made me feel more and more restrained. He’d encouraged me to open up, as if once I released the ugliness, it would to turn to ash and I could start acting normal. But what is normal? And if there is such a thing as normal, is that what I want to be?