Off the Mark, page 23
Rowan’s hands came around to cup mine. “I bring my grandmother flowers at least once a week because she happens to love them.” He swallowed. “Also, my dad used to do the same thing. Every Sunday. So it does mean something to her.”
My heart flipped around and around. “Your dad sounds like he was a great guy. I can see where you get it from.”
Our eyes held, an electric energy dancing like fireflies between us in the darkening summer night.
“I’m genuinely happy you’re here, Charlie,” he said.
“I’m genuinely happy you asked me.”
Hands entwined, Rowan and I walked toward dinner, our shoulders brushing, and I realized too late how casually I’d described Rowan as my “boyfriend” without adding the word “fake” in front of it.
And how natural it had been to take his hand without first having to stage it.
“Is this where you grew up?” I asked, gazing around at the connected brick row homes, the stoops, the cracked sidewalk. I could hear the low hum of city sounds, smell the scent of someone lighting up a barbecue.
He nodded. “Before I came here, my parents and I lived about ten blocks west. The street looked about the same though. But there’s always been somethin’ special about Emily Street.”
He pointed out a narrow lot with small trees, planter beds, string lights, and picnic tables. A wrought-iron entrance said Welcome to Annie’s Pocket Park.
“Dean and Tabitha got the neighbors together to build that. After Annie passed away, that lot sat abandoned until we made it our own. She was like the block mayor, you know? Though now that’s Eddie’s job. In everyone’s business, whether they like it or not.”
I returned a surprised wave to a woman who’d waved at me as she watered the flowers in her window box. A group of older kids loped by, calling out friendly greetings to Rowan before turning the corner.
“Are you sure you’re not the mayor of this block?” I asked.
“Eh, I don’t live on this block anymore. But maybe spiritually?”
“It’s because of the rec center, isn’t it?”
“That probably has something to do with it. I’m also Alice O’Callaghan’s grandson and, well, you’ll meet her and see why I’m popular by association.”
We arrived at a row home that looked the same as everybody else’s, though small details were different. The worn lawn chairs on the sidewalk. The newly painted blue door that I assumed was Rowan’s doing. The air conditioning unit dripping a few drops from the second-floor window.
“Home sweet home,” Rowan said.
The door swung open, revealing a pretty, red-headed woman with a toothy smile, wearing a tank top that said Bisexual Icon. “Not to be too weird right off the bat, but I’m Tabitha, Dean’s wife, and also I’ve known Rowan since I was a kid and basically I’m super stoked to meet you.”
She looked over her shoulder, then whispered, “And I know your secret but I’ll take it to my grave.”
Then she threw her arms around me in a hug that almost knocked me over.
“Um…hi?” I said, unsure of what to do with my own arms.
She pulled back, still smiling. “Rowan probably didn’t tell you this, but I went to film school with Rebecca Ortega, so I was a fan even before Rowan told me about you.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Are you serious? Rebecca did an incredible job with that short she made. Usually a lot of the stuff I say ends up getting cut, but she kept it in.”
“Because you were the best and most interesting rider, duh,” Tabitha said.
Warmth spread through my chest, tugging my lips into a genuine smile. “Oh. Thanks. That’s so nice of you to say.”
She cocked her head up the stairs. “Come on in. Alice is excited and a little nervous to meet you. Also, hey Rowan, you’re here too?”
He laughed and ruffled her hair as she tried to swat his hand away. “We’re only standing in my childhood home but sure, you welcome her inside.”
She sniffed. “I will, thank you.”
Tabitha pulled me up the stairs into a small, carpeted living room, walls covered with photos, figurines and frames covering the mantle. The furniture was neat but similarly worn. The curtains threadbare but well-maintained.
In the center of the room was a tiny, elderly woman with skin as pale as Rowan’s and bright white hair.
“My goodness.” She tsked. “Rowan O’Callaghan, you didn’t tell me that Charlie was twice as beautiful in person as she is in all those motorcycle pictures you showed me.”
Her Irish accent was strong and lyrical and it clicked into place for me why some of Rowan’s words had a subtle musical lilt.
He’d picked it up from the Irish grandmother who’d raised him.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mrs. O’Callaghan.” I held out the flowers. “I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you liked so I bought all of them.”
Alice widened her eyes like this was the greatest gift she’d ever received, scooping them from my grasp and opening her arms for a hug.
“And you brought me a garden? I don’t deserve it.” She patted my back as I released her. “Call me Alice, please. We’re very relaxed and casual around here, Charlie.”
Rowan appeared next to us. “Just last week you told me this was a holy, God-fearing household and now we’re casual?”
She tipped her head towards me. “The way my grandson tells a fib.”
Wrapping her arm through mine, she walked me back to the kitchen.
“I heard that some people on the news are picking on you for no reason.” She lowered her voice. “I never said no to a party back in my day. It seems like you work very hard, just like I did. Is it wrong for a girl to have a little fun?”
I breathed out a laugh. “It is not. I’m sure we would have partied together.”
Dean was standing over the sink, his side profile revealing a nose that looked like it’d been broken several times over. He set a pan down and extended a gigantic hand. “Hey, Charlie, it’s good to meet you again. That was one hell of a race the other day.”
I grinned. “Thanks for coming and making all those glitter signs.”
He made eye contact with Rowan over my shoulder. “I only gave him a little bit of shit for that, I swear.”
Behind him was a framed picture of two tall, gangly, teen boys that were so clearly Dean and Rowan my heart did that bizarre flipping thing again. I averted my gaze, something about the wave of emotion that picture evoked in me sending up a warning.
Alice moved past us in the tiny, crowded kitchen with a steaming pan that Rowan immediately took from her hands.
“The rest of you, bring the drinks and side dishes. And Charlie, don’t you dare lift a finger to help or I will know about it.”
Tabitha brushed past holding a bottle of wine and five glasses. “You better listen to her, girl. Just lean into the hospitality before she hits you with a napkin for offering to clean a single dish.”
“Thanks for the pro tip,” I replied, following them to the dining room table, in a space barely big enough between the living room and the kitchen. There were candles. And cloth napkins. And Rowan, holding out the chair next to him, his expression boyish and charming.
Dean and Tabitha sat across from us, and Alice at the head of the table to our right, and I could feel the memories here. Everything from the ease of Dean’s body language in what I knew had been his second home to the scratches on top of the table. There were chips in the old chairs and height pencil marks on the wall next to me.
Our house, the one my dad was about to lose if I didn’t fix everything, hadn’t fared much better after years of rough-and-tumble use. We were constantly tracking mud and bike grease across the floor, scuffing up the walls or ripping up the grass.
Even after my mom left, and my dad and I were struggling, I always felt comforted by all the nicks and scratches. Evidence of a childhood well-spent even if I was lonely.
Plates were passed, portions were served, Tabitha poured large glasses of wine for all of us. Alice watched this domestic display with a look of fondness, and when her eyes lit on mine, my answering smile was sincere.
“It’s so thoughtful of you to have me over. I never get home cooking when I’m traveling like this. And I miss my dad a lot.”
Alice made a hush gesture. “If you knew how long I’ve been waiting for my grandson to bring someone home for me to meet… Well, it’s felt like forever. And let me say, I always knew the one for him would be a woman like you.”
Rowan paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You had this all figured out the whole time and you didn’t tell me?”
Under the table, he slid his foot over mine and pressed down.
Alice sniffed. “Would you have listened? You never take a word of advice. Stubborn as your father.”
“And just as handsome,” he said with a wink.
“What kind of woman do you think I am?” I asked.
She looked back and forth between Rowan and me. “If you’re anything like the way Rowan described you this morning, then you’re brave, fearless, and determined.” She cocked her head. “What else did you say?”
He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “A fighter.”
“You said that?” I asked.
“It’s the truth. I would never lie about something like that.”
I sensed the hidden meaning, buried under his words—all the truths connecting us that made our fake relationship feel effortless.
“I can already tell Charlie keeps you in line. Doesn’t tolerate any of your nonsense,” Alice added, chewing thoughtfully.
Rowan coughed into his hand, a light pink in his cheeks. I set my fork down and pinned him with a smirk. “Do I keep you in line?”
“Yes, ma’am, she sure does. Charlie’s the one in charge,” he said smoothly.
But under the table, his hand covered my knee. Squeezed.
“Your grandson has been a friend of mine for a long time now, and I’m not one to have a ton of friends,” I said, hesitant. “The fact that he puts up with me is also appreciated.”
I could feel the heat of Rowan’s attention, but I stayed focused on Alice. She was beaming.
“Oh, I don’t think he’s putting up with much of anything, my dear,” she said. “There’s nothing tolerating about the way Rowan’s looking at you right now. And I should know since I had a soul mate for a husband. And was lucky enough to see my son find his as well, in Rowan’s very sweet and lovely mother.”
Rowan was fighting the emotions scrawled across his expression. He managed to wrangle them and flashed a wide smile I didn’t quite believe. “My grandmother is a saint. If she hadn’t been here, who knows what would have happened to me and Dean.”
Dean grinned. “My mothers would have sent us both to a terrifying boarding school. Then I never would have met Tabitha.”
Tabitha clicked her tongue. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Machine. Soul mates find each other either way. You think I would have let you go just because of a boarding school? You were always mine.”
I swallowed around the lump that formed in my throat. I didn’t know Dean or Tabitha all that well, but their love was obvious. And I never thought love could be obvious. Even when my mom was hanging around with my dad, it wasn’t like they had the kind of healthy, affectionate relationship I saw between parents on sitcoms.
Being together seemed to exhaust them and annoy them in equal measure.
Truthfully, I felt the same way about the various men I’d picked up over the last few years. They were a way to pass the time, not a person I wanted to have family dinners with.
I wasn’t so much confused by Dean and Tabitha’s adorable banter as intrigued. And when I flicked a glance at Rowan, he seemed just as curious.
Under the table, his fingers tightened on my skin. I was extremely, extremely aware of every point of contact between us.
“What’s your family like, Charlie?” Alice asked. “Have you introduced them to Rowan?”
“You know…uh, not yet,” I stumbled. “Not for lack of trying, it’s more because of my racing schedule. And Rowan and I just started dating. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“Charlie’s dad is a famous dirt bike racer too. He has a few more tattoos than Charlie does, but between me and the people at this table, she has a more sophisticated style.”
I arched an eyebrow his way. “Sophisticated? I’ve never heard it described that way. Usually people say I’m all brute force and poor track manners.”
“Manners are overrated,” Tabitha mused. “And while I’m a fan of brute force myself, I agree that you’re very graceful out there. After I saw that documentary, I went down a rabbit hole and watched, like, all of your videos.”
I gave her a pleased smile. “I hope the rabbit hole was interesting at least?”
“There was a two-week period where Tabitha told everyone we knew that she was gonna buy a motorcycle,” Dean said. “I think this was probably around the same time.”
“Happy to help you still do that, by the way,” I said.
Tabitha nodded. Mouthed please and I laughed.
Alice cleared her throat daintily. “Are any of your people left in Syracuse?”
I dropped my eyes to my plate, carefully cutting into the meat. “It was always me and my dad. And now his girlfriend Penny and their dogs. We’ve got aunts and uncles and cousins nearby, but we were never close. And my mom…” I cocked my head and kept cutting. “She left a long time ago. Turns out mothering wasn’t really her thing.”
Alice made a sound of sympathy but didn’t go overboard with the hand-wringing. I guessed, based on her own tragedies, she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of sympathy so performative it was patronizing.
“I’ve got one of those too. A mom who just up and left, though in my case she was happy to find a new family to take care of.” Tabitha gave me a look full of understanding. “It sucks.”
Something shifted deep in my chest. Got noticeably lighter too. “It super sucks. And I don’t know why she left, because honestly? I’m super awesome. Seems like you are too.”
Alice hooted with laughter. Tabitha grinned and clinked her wineglass against mine. “Fuck yeah, we’re awesome.”
“Language, Tabitha,” Alice sniffed.
“I heard a lot of unholy words coming out of your mouth while watching the Phillies lose two nights ago.” Rowan pointed at her with his fork.
Alice clutched her chest. “I have never.”
I hid a smile behind my napkin. Alice pushed her chair back and walked over to a bookshelf overflowing with novels, knickknacks, photo albums.
“Whatcha doin’ there?” Rowan asked, tracking her movement.
She waved a hand. “I’m not lifting anything heavy. I wanted to…here…” She turned, waving a triumphant hand. “Charlie would like to see this.”
The picture she pressed into my hand had folds at the corners, the slightest of creases. A picture she looked at often then, and I knew why immediately—the happy young couple. The smiling man who looked exactly like Rowan. The chubby baby with bright red hair. And Alice, looking twenty-five years younger, standing next to a man I assumed was her husband.
“That was taken on the front stoop right out there,” Rowan said softly. He reached down, cupped his hand beneath mine as I held it. My stomach hollowed, breath fluttery. His thumb stroked across the image just once.
I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to express what I saw reflected in his profile—something sweet. Something loving. And a raw flash of heartbreak that made me want to cry.
“My parents moved here from Killarney in Ireland to build something new. And we did. We created something magical with our neighbors and it mattered. It was real.”
Alice reached for the photo—she didn’t look sad as much as wistful. “And you know what? All of them showed up when Rowan and I needed it the most. That’s not something you forget in this lifetime, that type of kindness.”
A look of pure mischief replaced her melancholy. “We all deserve a community like that. I hope your mother and other family are healthy and I wish them well. But it’s a pity for them, isn’t it?”
“What’s the pity?” I asked.
“That they don’t deserve to know you,” she said primly. “Such a shame.”
I laughed, totally surprised. “You might be right about that.”
“There’s no might. I know it,” she replied.
I remembered what Rowan had shared earlier, about the summer and how it affected Alice. I abandoned the raunchy bar stories I’d intended to share with her and opted for the truth instead.
“I’ve never told Rowan this, so…sorry in advance.”
I fixed my mouth into a fake pout. He brightened, twisting in his chair and dropping his elbow behind him. It allowed the tip of his index finger to rest on the ball of my shoulder and caress it.
“Are you about to divulge my secrets, Maddox?”
I ignored him and leaned past to focus on Alice. “I tease Rowan a lot about our days at Jolene’s. Because he was very, um…popular with women. But Rowan was also a natural at creating that type of community, and I could tell because the bartender always overhears what the patrons are talking about.”
I was keenly aware that Dean was studying me with his beer half-raised to his lips.
“He always took the rookies under his wing, even when he was one himself. One of the players got engaged to his long-time boyfriend, and Rowan threw them a surprise party in the locker room.”
Rowan rubbed the top of his head. “That stuff’s no biggie.”
“Yes, he flirted a lot but…I know being on the road was tough for a lot of the players. Rowan was usually there listening to them talk about missing their families. Trying to cheer them up any way he knew how. When he got called up to the majors, everyone threw you a big party at Jolene’s, remember?”
His throat worked. “Yeah, I remember. That was a hell of a night.”
“It was, and when you were out of earshot, all anyone could say was how much you were going to be missed. Because you brought the team together.”
He tossed his grandmother a cheeky grin. “Pitchers. We love to boss everyone around.”
