Blues Beach Page 8

  And she’d found Brandon.

  And had Emma.

  And she wouldn’t trade any of that, in retrospect, but her heart and brain could only hold back the emotional deluge for so long.

  Her defenses had fallen, and here she was, at ground zero.

  The only question remaining was if she could actually adult if he showed up that weekend. Part of her dreaded that.

  And part of her hoped beyond hope.

  She hated herself for both options.

  * * * *

  They ate breakfast Friday morning at the hotel, their continental buffet adequate enough. Tracey didn’t miss how Jeff kept studying her as they maintained a comfortable silence, him going through his tablet and her on her phone, checking e-mails and Facebook.

  She’d set up a separate rule on her Facebook profile, dumping her parents and siblings into it, to make it easy to share things without them seeing it. Like the pictures she’d taken so far. She kept her posts set to friends-only in case Pat, who she’d blocked along with his parents, tried to spy on her.

  She’d had no contact from him or his parents, and wanted it kept that way.

  “Tracey?”

  She looked up at the woman’s voice and realized it was Joleen. “Hey!” She stood and they hugged, and it felt so damn good to reconnect with someone from the past who she had good memories of.

  “When’d you get in?” Joleen asked.

  “Yesterday. This is Jeff Ziegler.”

  Joleen looked understandably confused as she shook hands with him. “I…thought you were divorced from him. And…that his name was Brandon.”

  Tracey smirked. “It’s complicated. I am divorced from Brandon. This is his husband. My ex-husband’s husband. Sorta my husband-in-law, I guess.”

  Now she looked even more confused, and Tracey laughed as Joleen said, “Okay, what?” Tracey gave the quick explanation. “Ah! Oh, okay. Now I get it. Well, glad you guys have such a great relationship.”

  “Brandon would have come with her,” Jeff said, “but both he and Stuart had to work today and this weekend. I’m working on filing for disability because of my Lyme disease, so I came with her.”

  “Um…Stuart?”

  “Our other husband.” He grinned. “Yes, it’s that complicated.”

  * * * *

  Joleen joined them for breakfast, and several other friends appeared, some with their spouses. Over an hour later, they had five tables pulled together for the twenty-plus group of them, and had been tearfully laughing as they told stories about Cara and recounted their high school days.

  Tracey felt a little guilty that Jeff was stuck sitting there listening to them talk about people he didn’t know, but he didn’t seem to be acting restless or in pain.

  Then, during a spontaneous silence, someone spoke from the other end of the table. “Anyone know if Eric’s coming this weekend?”

  Tracey’s face heated and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to stand and bolt before several people murmured they didn’t know.

  Jeff reached over and patted her hand, gently squeezing.

  Then she realized everyone was looking her way, as if awaiting a response.

  “I don’t know,” she forced herself to say through nearly numb lips. “I haven’t had any contact with him since high school. I hope he does. It’d be nice to see him.”

  The conversations quickly picked up again, sparing her any further monologuing on the topic. A lot of people wouldn’t be arriving until later today or even tonight, but at least everyone at that table had the correct story about Tracey and her relationship to Jeff. Some of them had already known it because they were Facebook friends with her and had seen the many postings that had included all three men, as well as Emma and Grace.

  Maybe if Eric shows up, and maybe if he’s single, and maybe—

  And maybe if pigs start tap-dancing.

  She’d already experienced first-hand how dangerous and stupid magic thinking was. She’d lived through that idiocy with Brandon, and it’d nearly destroyed her relationship with him and with Emma.

  Keep your brains, woman.

  After breakfast, most of the group wanted to walk down to the beach for a little while. Jeff returned to their room to rest while Tracey stayed with the group. Joleen hooked arms with her as they strolled through the firm-packed sand just above the surf line.

  “I wasn’t quite sure who everyone was you’d post about,” Joleen admitted. “But I felt kind of weird coming out and asking you on Facebook. I knew I’d eventually figure it out.”

  “It’s been…interesting. I’m happy for Brandon, honestly. Yes, it hurt when he came out and divorced me, and I compounded the problem by getting remarried way too fast to an idiot. But Stuart and Jeff are fantastic guys, and they love Emma like their own daughter.”

  “That Grace sounds like a pistol.”

  “She is. Frankly, I’m glad Brandon has two husbands, because we sometimes need all hands on deck to keep order.”

  “A barbecue fork, huh? Sounds pretty awesome.”

  “Yeah, she is pretty awesome. Both girls are. Going to be too quiet when they go to college.”

  “So…if Eric does come this weekend…”

  “What are you asking?”

  “Want me to put a bug in his ear?”

  Heat filled Tracey’s cheeks. “I don’t know if that’d be a good idea or not.”

  “I mean, obviously, not if he’s married or has someone with him. But if he’s alone…and single?”

  Tracey stared out over the Pacific, the blue waters, the blue sky…

  The blues in her heart that seemed to have infected her down to the depths of her soul, to a cellular level.

  “Sure,” she whispered. “Why not?”

  Chapter Ten

  Eric sat at the gate, awaiting the call to board. He couldn’t stop the way his sneaker tapped the floor, or how he kept picking at the side seam of his jeans, along his right thigh, running the pad of his index finger up and down it, his nail brushing across the stitches.

  He tried to focus on the sound of JJ’s tearful voice as Eric had talked to him, instead of letting his mind spin up potential fantasies that had absolutely zero chance of coming true or doing anything other than emotionally gut him.

  Fantasies about Tracey.

  I should have argued with her. Begged her to come to New York with me. I never should have let her go.

  Looking back on it all, he could see her thinly veiled grief, how she’d been certain he’d go to college and leave her behind, and it was most likely a desire to spare herself what she’d felt was the inevitable.

  Except…

  He hadn’t felt like that at all.

  He always thought he’d have a chance to talk to her, to win her back, to convince her to come join him. That he’d come home for fall break prepared with information about how she could find a job, and they could get an apartment together, and see her, and woo her, and there’d be some romantic hijinks that led to a fabulously funny cross-country drive they could later tell their kids about as he drove her car, loaded with all her things, back to college.

  And they had lots of kids and lived happily ever after…

  Except, that’s not what happened. The day JJ told Eric she’d flown to Florida for a stay with her sister and had refused to come home effectively shattered those dreams.

  From then on, he made a point of not asking about her. It was too painful. He’d immersed himself in his studies, determined to make a successful life for himself, too busy to acknowledge his pain or loneliness. Then his career.

  Then Paige, once he’d heard Tracey was married with a child and he knew that road was forever blocked.

  And now…

  Now I have nothing.

  Frankly, it was his fault he was alone, and he’d own every bit of that blame.

  Because it was his fault.

  Once he was settled in his seat on the plane, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the pa
st, about the beach, about how beautiful Tracey had always looked in the moonlight, and how the sea breeze always played with strands of her auburn hair.

  Her sweet brown eyes.

  Her laugh.

  Her tears on that final night.

  * * * *

  Tension hummed through Eric as he waited for his turn to deplane once they were on the ground at LAX. He knew with rush-hour traffic he’d likely have a long drive ahead of him to Laguna Beach.

  He decided to do something really stupid and take Highway 1 all the way down instead of the freeway. He stopped in Long Beach to eat and stare at the water for a few minutes, the late-day sun bouncing diamonds off the surface in a way the Atlantic Ocean never seemed to replicate for him.

  At home, he didn’t get to the beach very often, and not at all in the past five years. While the Pacific was cold, the Atlantic always felt colder to him, even in the summer, a different vibe to the water, a different color to the ocean, like it was the grouchy, reluctant morning person as opposed to the Pacific’s happy afternoon persona.

  I miss this.

  Not the traffic, which now reminded him to never to bitch about Jersey traffic.

  Ever.

  Again.

  Sure, it was expensive living in the northeast, but not as expensive as here.

  Although he missed mild winters. He missed the laid-back, easy life.

  Then again, I was a freaking kid. Everything felt easy compared to the shit-show of adulthood.

  Forty-two years old, and he wasn’t any better off than he’d been over two decades earlier, except he had what had since proven to be a worthless degree and more holes in his heart where chunks of it had been ripped out and shredded.

  Maybe I should remember to keep my mouth shut this weekend. At this rate, he’d be a massive buzzkill, and it was already a fucking funeral. No reason to heap his own pity party onto the pyre.

  The sun had set by the time he pulled into the hotel parking lot and made his way to the front desk in the lobby. He had to wait behind three other people, two he vaguely recognized, to check in. Another walked in behind him, who he definitely recognized, and he hugged them as they talked while they awaited their turns.

  Once he was checked in and had moved his luggage to his room, he texted JJ.

  I’m in my hotel room.

  JJ called him a few minutes later. “Hey. We’re over at Uncle Charles and Aunt Margot’s.”

  Eric struggled and won against the urge to ask if Tracey was there. “How’re you and your parents holding up?”

  “It’s…not going to lie, it’s tough.”

  “Do you need me to come over?”

  “It’s okay. A couple of the cousins are here already. I guess the rest will be there tomorrow. It’s sort of chaotic here right now and Aunt Margot is getting pretty snippy with people.”

  “Well, I’m in room 310 at the Laguna Pacific Inn Resort, if you want to stop by and talk later.”

  “I…we’ll see how I feel. I’m probably not going to want to go out tonight, I’m sorry. I’ve already hit the tequila a little harder than I should have. First chance I’ve had since finding out to actually…breathe.”

  “Sorry. I understand how hard this is.”

  He sighed. Actually sighed. “I know you do, and I appreciate it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when Paige—”

  “It’s okay. You were out on an oil rig, and you barely knew her.”

  “But she was your wife. And the baby—”

  “JJ,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle and not wanting to delve into his own, old grief with his friend, “really, it’s okay. I’m glad I can be here.”

  “I really appreciate this, man. I want you to sit with us tomorrow, please?”

  “No worries. I think I’ll go downstairs. Apparently a bunch of people from our class are here for her funeral, and it sort of turned into an impromptu reunion.”

  “Please tell them thank you for me for coming. And from my parents. I mean it. I was kind of scared no one would come.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to get some sleep tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  Eric changed into shorts and a T-shirt and headed downstairs, determined to find some alcohol and ice and a very large glass to mix them in.

  * * * *

  Tracey honed her explanation for who Jeff was by late Friday afternoon. To the point that when she said “husband-in-law,” she felt a slightly sadistic twitch of humor at people’s confused expressions.

  None of her family had called or messaged her yet about when she was arriving.

  She wasn’t exactly in any hurry to let them know she was already in the area. She knew if she did that she’d be brow-beaten to show up, and then good-bye any chance to see Eric if he did appear this weekend.

  There was still plenty of time for her to be made to feel ashamed about all her life choices tomorrow. She didn’t need to masochistically subject herself to that any sooner than necessary.

  Jeff rejoined them for dinner, and later, they all sat around the poolside bar to talk and share memories. She didn’t know how long they’d been down there, except she was starting to yawn. She was about to suggest to Jeff they could head back to their room when she felt her gaze drawn to the doorway leading into the pool deck area from the lobby, just past the bar.

  He looked older, but still as handsome. Same green eyes, and a touch of grey in his brown hair, yet her heart trip-hammered in her chest and it took every ounce of will she had not to jump up and race into his arms.

  She didn’t see anyone with him, which she knew didn’t mean anything.

  He apparently recognized her, too, and walked over after a moment, a hesitant smile on his face.

  Now she stood, hugging him, too overcome to find any of the words she’d wanted to say to him after all these years. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  She was uncomfortably aware of how conversations briefly faltered nearby as people realized what happened.

  After a deep breath, she pulled back just enough she could look up into his eyes.

  “How’ve you been?” she asked.

  His smile looked sad. “Vertical. I heard you got married and had a baby. Congratulations.”

  “I’m divorced from him, actually. For nearly ten years now.”

  * * * *

  It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of his lungs. Eric spotted the man who’d been sitting comfortably close to Tracey, looking up and watching them with an odd expression on his face.

  And the wedding band on his left ring finger. From the way she held her hands clasped, he couldn’t see her left ring finger.

  “It’s Tracey Ziegler now,” she said. “Are you married?”

  “Widowed.” He forced a smile and turned his attention to the man, extending a hand. “Hi. Eric Martin.”

  “Jeff Ziegler. Nice to meet you.” The man’s easy smile didn’t hold a hint of jealousy, and his handshake felt friendly-firm, not pissing-contest-strong.

  Still, Eric’s heart and hopes wilted. “Nice to meet you, too.” The guy was good-looking, although he seemed a little on the gaunt side, and not in a healthy way, either. Sharp lines and angles around his cheeks and jaw left deep shadows.

  The guy stood. “I’m going to go to bed. You have your room key, hon?”

  She barely looked his way, her attention still on Eric. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “No worries.” Jeff smiled. “Take your time. Have fun.”

  Eric didn’t understand the wink the guy gave him, either, when he turned and left the pool deck. That’s when Eric noticed he moved rather stiffly, like a person in pain. It seemed kind of odd he didn’t even give her a kiss or anything.

  Bastard.

  The possessive jolt he felt startled him.

  Tracey hooked Eric’s hand and angled him into the chair Jeff had just vacated. “He’s got Lyme disease. He’s in a lot of pain.”

  Now he felt like an ass. “Oh, I’m sorry.” No
w he could see her hand. No rings, but it was obvious they had the same name, and were sharing a room, and he’d called her hon.

  He didn’t need sock puppets.

  “It’s okay. He scared the crap out of us when he was diagnosed. He was bitten by a tick while helping his sister’s friend move up in New Hampshire. A few weeks later, after a bunch of symptoms, he collapsed in the garage one afternoon. Fortunately Emma was there with him and was able to get help.”

  “Emma?”

  “Our daughter.”

  Ah.

  A waitress came over to take his drink order and he got a beer. He knew he’d need it.

  To start with.

  “Is there anything they can do for it?” he asked Tracey once he had his beer.

  “He’s on a lot of meds right now. He’s got a PICC line. He stubbornly insisted on trying to go back to work part-time at the dealership he used to work for. It was only two weeks later he called me in tears one day, asking me to come get him and take him home because he couldn’t drive. We all finally banded together and told him he had to quit working. Period.”

  He honestly didn’t know what to say. He was too busy staring at her. She was still beautiful, maybe even more so than when they were kids. Sweet brown eyes, and it didn’t look like she colored her hair, or, if she did, she used something close to her natural auburn color.

  “You still live in Florida?” he asked, not wanting to stop talking to her, but not able to delve into deeper topics with her right then. Not with everyone around.

  “Yeah. I love it there.”

  Plus, now they were constantly being interrupted by people he knew or used to know, wanting to say hello to him. After his third beer, and her second rum and Coke in the thirty minutes he’d been sitting there, and a lot of talking, she asked him another question.

  “How long have you been widowed?”

  “Five years.” He really didn’t want to dredge up that well of pain. Not when he was trying to cope with the fact that this would be a painful missed connection that would send him reeling back into the depths of his all too familiar mental darkness. “Car accident.”