“Perry, he’s wanting to become an art teacher, remember?”
Sometimes it felt like my cheerful personality had been a defense against my ex and the way he was so serious about everything. Total whimsy-destroyer. And I had been determined to be happy whether my husband was or not.
He began to launch into a rant about stock options. God, I was so sick of Perry sometimes.
As soon as I could, I tried to head him off and change the subject to take some heat off my boy, but I wasn’t surprised that Laurie texted the next day asking if he could stay with me a few days earlier.
Of course he could, and any apprehensions I had about how he’d fit into Legends MC was instantly dissipated.
Fizz immediately took a liking to him and began to show my son around at top volume. Laurie seemed to enjoy the tour, even though he knew nothing about motorcycles, and I shook my head but smiled to hear the words “fireworks” as they drifted off into the backyard.
Abraham wasn’t particularly friendly (he never was), but when Laurie was hanging indecisively around the Shop later, the Prez asked if he wanted to learn anything. I was delighted to see Laurie sidle in and ask about how to change the oil himself.
I felt my heart crack open just a little bit more.
Abraham might be rough and grumpy, but inside he truly was a good man.
He was so patient with Laurie, who knew absolutely nothing about cars or motorcycles. And Perry wasn’t the kind of dad who thought it was necessary to learn .
Maybe he didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he must care about me to be so kind to my son?
The little spark of hope inside me was such a strong, sturdy little blaze that it surprised me. How much had I been secretly hoping that he cared for me? How much did I care abouthim, and didn’t want to admit it?
The day before Thanksgiving Laurie came out in slacks and a polo shirt.
“I think Dad feels bad about nagging me to change majors, he’s been texting and wants to take me out to do some golfing, but I’m going to come back and sleep here later, if that’s OK?”
“Of course,” I said. “Meatloaf tonight.”
There was always the chance my ex-husband had realized he was going to ruin his relationship with Laurie if he kept pushing and pushing him to do something he didn’t want to.
But the moment Perry got out of his BMW, I could tell he was spoiling for a fight.
Laurie and Fizz had been setting off firecrackers in front of the clubhouse, whooping louder with each explosion, while I cleaned some corn for dinner. Abraham sat smoking beside me in a chair with a piece of tangled metal in front of him.
It was amazing how such a rough, hard man could be so careful, his big fingers deftly probing through the mangled engine, figuring out what it needed to become whole again.
I wasn’t looking at him too much, was I? My. . .crush wasn’t too obvious, was it?
I don’t do relationship shit,he had said.
And what had I gone and done? Fallen for this man like a lovesick fool.
And I was always terrible about hiding my emotions.
It was unseasonably warm for Thanksgiving Break, and I was wondering if we could get away with putting a table out under the apple tree tomorrow when Perry and Bridget pulled up.
His lip curled as he saw Fizz with firecrackers in his pants pockets and Laurie with his salmon pink golf shirt all dirty.
And I knew my ex was going to blamemefor the fact that Laurie was here learning how to do an oil change instead of meeting with Perry’s stupid lawyer friends about an internship he didn’t even want.
The door slammed shut and Perry stared at me, his fingers tapping impatiently on his arms.
“What the hell are you doing here, Polly? I’ve asked around about this club. They don’t justhire 42-year-old womenwho don’t know how to fix a bike here. Are youwhoringyourself out to this motorcycle club for money?”
My face flushed in humiliation.
“Perry, please, stop?—"
