Scarred Read online

  “Was that true for you?” she asked as she set the glass in front of Autumn.

  She had to think for a moment before answering. “For the most part, yes. I have a career that keeps me interested and well paid. My home is a dream. Thanks to my brother and yours, it’s exactly how I wanted. Growing up, I just wanted a home no one could take from me.”

  Jamie waved the wooden spoon in the air. “Growing up like this, you think everyone’s experience is the same. It wasn’t until I went to college that I got a clue about how hard it is for some. There were these older ladies in my classes who were going back to school after raising kids. They were all so clever and had such great work ethics. I had so much admiration for them.” Her round blue eyes sparkled under the pendant lights that hung over the island.

  “Trey told me your parents cut you off when you changed majors. You know what it’s like to pay your own way.”

  “I do now. When I lived here, I did not.”

  They both sipped from their glasses, quiet for a moment. Where had Trey gone? Was he still staring at his father’s portrait?

  “Come on. This can simmer,” Jamie said, and gestured toward the pool. “Let’s go back outside. The hummingbirds usually come this time of day for a little cocktail of their own.”

  Autumn followed Jamie outside, jealous of the younger woman’s tanned, muscular legs. Dressed in cotton pants and a short-sleeved blouse, Autumn wasn’t overly warm, but it would be fantastic to feel the air on her bare legs. When they reached the table, Autumn looked longingly at the pool. Since her swim, she only wanted more.

  “Would you like to take a swim?” Jamie asked, obviously reading her desire.

  “No, thank you. I don’t really swim.”

  “Because of your legs?”

  She almost laughed at the girl’s forthright question. “Yes, mostly because of that.”

  Jamie didn’t ask any follow-up questions, but simply pointed to several lounge chairs under the beach umbrella. “Sit then?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Autumn had just settled in when Jamie turned to her. “So, what’s going on with you and Trey?”

  “Going on?”

  “Are you guys just friends or what?” Jamie asked.

  “We’re friends.”

  “For now?”

  Autumn laughed. “Trust me, we’re just friends. Best friends.”

  “Really? Okay, then. Now I’ll have to think of someone to fix you up with.”

  Autumn groaned. “I’ve had so many coffee dates lately, I don’t know if I can take one more.”

  “One more could be the one. You just never know.”

  Why did that thought do nothing but make her feel tired?

  11

  Trey

  * * *

  That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He’d left the shades up, and light from around the pool stole into his room. The ceiling fan whirled above him, slow and steady, its blades just visible. The outlines of the dresser and bookshelf were shadows, their contents invisible. Not that he needed light. He had the books on the shelves memorized: Hardy Boys mysteries; all eight Dark Towers novels; all the Harry Potter novels; a history of American interior design; every Architectural Digest magazine published between 1998 and 2002; and various novels, mostly suspense. His mother had moved all his old books into the new house, even though he was grown by then. Now, if she sold the house, he would be forced to take the books with him.

  Giving up on trying to sleep, he pushed aside the sheet and cotton blanket and got out of bed. He rubbed his eyes before shuffling over to the small desk and turning on the lamp. On the corkboard above the desk were several photographs. One of him and Nico standing with their surfboards. Another was of him and his sister. She was about nine, which would have made him nineteen. They’d been on vacation with his parents in Hawaii. He had his arm around Jamie’s scrawny shoulders. She grinned at the camera. Whereas he squinted and looked uncomfortable. That had been the vacation where he told his parents he wanted to change majors. This photograph was taken before that conversation, but he could see the strain in the slump of his shoulders.

  His parents’ situation brought back so many feelings about the demise of his own marriage. The afternoon his divorce was final, he’d flown to San Diego. He’d arrived around cocktail hour on a Friday. He let himself into the quiet house through the kitchen door. A note on the table from his mother welcomed him and said she’d gone to the store but would be home shortly. He’d found his dad in the study, sitting at the desk with his laptop open.

  The memory of the conversation between him and his father came back to him in perfect detail, playing out behind his closed eyes.

  He knocked on the frame of the double doors of his dad’s study. “Hey, Dad.” Traditional, with dark woods and an oversize desk, the room expressed power and masculinity. Brown leather chairs with red decorative pillows and curtains. Red was a power color. No weakness in red, only aggressiveness. Like his father.

  Dad looked up from whatever he was doing on the laptop. “Trey, come on in.” People always remarked at how much he looked like his father. Same lean build and olive complexion. His dad’s dark blond hair was tinged with silver but had once been the same color as Trey’s. Their eyes were different, though. Dad’s were a hazel color that changed with the light, sometimes almost brown. Trey’s blue eyes were like his mother’s. He’d like to think his character mimicked hers, too.

  He followed directions, feeling like a kid being summoned to the principal’s office.

  “What brings you down?” Dad asked.

  Had Mom not told him, or was he playing dumb?

  “I signed final paperwork today.” He left it at that. If Dad couldn’t understand the layers of meaning behind that sentence, then he had nothing more to say.

  Dad leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. Must be rough.”

  Rough? That was putting it mildly. It was more like someone had punched through his chest and seized his beating heart, then crushed it in a steel vise.

  “I wouldn’t have thought Malia the type to run around,” Dad said. “Never saw that one coming.”

  “Me either.” He’d thought they’d been happy. Looking back, however, he should have seen the signs. There had been many signs. So many signs. The sudden interest in meeting up with girlfriends in the evenings. Changing her pass codes on her phone and computer so he couldn’t get into them. Wearing high heels to work instead of flats. “Five years of marriage and she decides to blow it all up.”

  “At least you found out now,” Dad said. “Five years is nothing. You can write that off as a mistake and move forward.”

  “Sure. Forward.” Trey couldn’t imagine what that would be. Not another woman. No way. Never again would he put himself out there. He’d been so trusting, so sure they had the perfect marriage and partnership.

  “Give it a little time, but you’ll be back in the saddle,” Dad said. “Maybe take some time and play around. Your mother and I got married so young, I never had time to try out a few for free.”

  “I’m not sure that’s really me,” Trey said. That was a lie. He knew for sure that wasn’t him. Since the time he’d been interested in girls, he’d wanted to be in a monogamous relationship. His first crush had been Cece Moore in fourth grade. He’d asked her to go steady with him, via a passed note in class. When she said yes, it had been one of the highlights of elementary school. That is, until she wrecked him two weeks later by breaking up with him in the same manner in which they’d started.

  “Take it from me, you’ll be glad you experienced a little variety. Once you’re married again, you’ll wish you had.”

  He clenched his hands together on his lap. His father’s suggestion to bed a bunch of women made his stomach hurt. “I don’t think so.”

  His father angled his head to the right and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, son. Was Malia’s affair because she was lonely?”


  “What are you talking about?” His nostrils flared. “Are you suggesting this was my fault?”

  “Not that I condone infidelity, no matter the cause. But I’ve wondered if my suspicions about you are correct.”

  He stared at his father, dumbfounded. “Is this the gay thing again?”

  His dad pushed up from his chair and came around the desk, then perched on a corner, feet from Trey. “If you are, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. My head of sales is gay. Most charismatic dude you ever met.”

  “Dad, I’m not gay.”

  “You sure about that? Everything lines up that way. Decorating. Wife has an affair with some young stud. But like I said, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You should own it. This ‘in the closet’ stuff is no way to live.”

  “Malia didn’t stray because I’m gay. I mean, I’m not gay. She strayed because…well, I don’t know why exactly. I thought we were happy.”

  “Were you having sex?” Dad asked.

  Not so much. Another sign. The past six months had been as dry as the Grapevine portion of Interstate 5. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. The marriage is done. Like you said, time to move on.”

  “You’re not gay, then?”

  “No. I told you when I was in high school and I’m telling you now,” Trey said. “I’m not gay.”

  “You ready to give it up, then?”

  “Give what up?”

  “The decorating stuff. Or whatever you call it,” Dad said. “Around here, every other minute, one of your mother’s friends who’s never worked a day in her life decides that just because she knows how to shop for a pretty vase and some pillows, she’s a decorator. I can’t tell you how many of them have started their own decorating business. As far as I can tell, their little hobbies never amount to much. Mostly, it just costs their husbands money.”

  “I’m hardly a hobbyist or a bored housewife. I went to school. I’ve won awards.”

  As if he didn’t hear Trey, Dad continued. “I have a place for you at the firm. You’d have to start at the bottom and work your way up, but I have full confidence in you.”

  “I’m not quitting the business,” Trey said. “I love my work. Making spaces that reflect the people who live in them is my passion. You can demean it all you want. People pay me a lot of money to transform their homes.”

  Dad blinked and then shoved away from his desk and strode over to the window that looked out to the pool deck. He crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on Trey. “What’s your plan? You gave her the business. If I’m guessing right, you didn’t get much for either the business or the house.”

  “That’s correct. But it’s enough to start over somewhere else.”

  “Where?” His dad’s voice was like a thundercloud before it burst. The famous Bradley Wattson temper would soon unleash a downpour from which no one was safe.

  He hadn’t known what was going to come out of his mouth until it did. “There’s a little town an hour and a half north of the city. Cliffside Bay. Nico and I go out there to surf sometimes. It’s a sleepy town, but I like it. I can start small—work out of my home—until I get a few clients under my belt. Word travels fast in a small town.”

  They’d been interrupted then by his mother. She’d rapped on the door and held her arms out for him.

  His father had shrugged and walked out of the room.

  Such a symbol of his parents, really. Open arms versus a shrug.

  A creak in the hallway drew him back to the present. Someone else was awake. He opened the door a crack and saw his sister making her way down the hallway on her tiptoes.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  She started, then turned around. “You scared the crap out of me,” she hissed back.

  “Sorry. What’re you doing?”

  She motioned for him to come closer. “I’m going down for some tea. You want some?”

  He nodded as he walked the few feet to where she stood at the top of the stairs. “Not tea, but maybe a shot of scotch.”

  He let her take the lead down the stairs. Jamie wore cotton pajamas and a pair of cat socks with ears popping out of the front toes. As they descended the stairs, she held on to the railing, probably to keep from slipping. No socks for him in the summer months. Way too hot. The hardwood floors were pleasantly cool against the pads of his feet.

  When they reached the kitchen, he grabbed a tumbler from the cupboard and helped himself to a generous pour of his dad’s scotch. “You couldn’t sleep?” he asked his sister.

  “Nah. I just kept staring at the ceiling fan, so decided to give it up.”

  “Same.” He sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

  His sister moved around the kitchen, filling up the teakettle and setting it on the cooktop. She turned a knob, and one of the gas burners flamed to life.

  “What’s bugging you?” he asked. “Just the obvious?”

  “I guess.” She scooped a spoonful of sugar from the bowl his mother always left near the coffeepot into a mug. “It’s just everything’s so uncertain right now. I wish I knew for sure what was going to happen next.” From a tin can on the counter, she pulled out a tea bag and plopped it into the mug. The tag hung down the side like a mouse’s tail.

  “Yeah, me too.” He sipped from his scotch, enjoying the warmth on the back of his throat.

  The kettle whistled. Jamie poured steaming water into the mug.

  “You seeing anyone?” he asked.

  “No. I was, but it wasn’t going anywhere, so I broke it off.”

  “You’re only twenty-four. Does it have to go somewhere?” he asked.

  “More than a booty call, yes.”

  He cringed and put up his hands as if to ward off evil. “Please, don’t talk like that. I can’t think about my baby sister having sex.”

  They sipped their respective drinks for a moment. Jamie sat a few stools down from him. “What about you? Autumn told me you guys are just friends.”

  “That’s right.” The minute it was out of his mouth, he knew his forlorn tone had given up his secret.

  “Wait a minute. Do you want more?” Jamie asked before blowing on her tea.

  “Yeah, but it’s complicated.”

  “Why?”

  “For one, she doesn’t feel the same way. And two, I did something weird.” He proceeded to tell her about Art and how deep he was in now. “I don’t know how to tell her.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll lose her if I do. Her friendship is better than nothing.”

  Jamie studied him from behind a waft of steam. “I think you should tell her how you feel.”

  “It’s crossed my mind that this has gone on long enough. If I don’t tell her now, I’ll never do it.”

  “You may be surprised. I think there’s more to her feelings than she’s admitting. Maybe even to herself.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t think a woman who is just a friend comes with you on this kind of family trip. You’re obviously bonded.”

  He sighed. “I’m tired of pretending.”

  “Then don’t. Not anymore. Tell her how you feel.”

  “And be ready to lose her?” he asked.

  “If that’s what it takes. We never get anything in this world if we don’t ask for it.”

  He raised his glass. “Amen to that.”

  The next few days were busy ones. Trey, reluctantly, sent Autumn home to Cliffside Bay. She needed to get back to work, and in good conscience he couldn’t keep her there. After she left, he and Jamie sat down with their mother and came up with a plan. They hired her a divorce attorney, who advised her that all proceedings from then on should be conducted through her. Their father had already retained counsel as well, and they began the negotiations. They agreed to put the house on the market. All other assets were to be split down the middle. To his relief, Mom wouldn’t have to worry financially. Half of his pension and stocks, plus the house, set her up nicely.

  They m
ade arrangements for her to come back to Cliffside Bay with Trey at the end of the week. This gave her time to go through the house and decide which of the furniture pieces she wanted to keep. Trey hired movers to come take them to storage, promising her that when they found a new place for her, he’d send for them. He then used his contacts in the business to find a broker to deal with the rest of the furniture. By the end of the week, most pieces were spoken for, either by consignment shops or staging companies. He helped his mother pack up what she wanted from her kitchen, which also went into storage.

  During a phone call with Stone, he’d assured Trey all was well with the business. “Take whatever time you need,” Stone had said to him. “We’ve got your back.”

  In more ways than one, he thought, as he enclosed his mother’s good china in Bubble Wrap.

  He’d called Rafael to ask if it was all right that his mother move in with him until he could get her a place of her own. Rafael didn’t hesitate, as Trey knew he wouldn’t. “Maybe Autumn’s mother and your mother will become friends,” Rafael had said. “Poor David and Lavonne are going to be surrounded by mothers.”

  “They could both use one,” Trey had said. “And my mother needs a project, so maybe it’ll work out for the best.”

  Trey kept a close watch on his mother but all in all, she seemed resigned to the divorce and perhaps even a little relieved to have it decided. He caught her crying by the pool one evening, but she assured him she was fine. “Crying is what I need to do for now.”

  Having gone through his own divorce, he couldn’t agree more. Maybe he’d have handled things better if he’d done a little more grieving and a lot less raging.

  Although they didn’t go back to the hospital with her, Trey and Jamie went to see their father the afternoon before he left for Cliffside Bay.

  Surprisingly, they’d let him go home. As it turned out, his home was an apartment on the beach with Trinity. His home of choice, anyway. That was obvious when they walked in and saw that he’d been living there for a while. Large, with light wood floors and bright blue cabinetry, the place screamed of youth. The apartment was so unlike the house that Trey was taken aback.