Cookie Cutter (14 page)

Although my first instinct is to steer clear, I honestly don’t know what my problem is.  It’s not like I haven’t dated since Cheryl and me ended things.  I’ve had plenty of dates, actually, I just . . . I mean with Iris, it’s . . .

Screw it.
I think too much, anyway.

“Hey, I have an idea.”

“What?”

Nothing to be afraid of here.

“It’s a little crazy. You might wanna hold on to something.”

“What is it?” Her cleaning moves more quickly.

We like each other. We’re friends. Friends date.

“And as an added bonus, it’ll probably make the ex completely insane.”

“Carter!”

“Okay, are you ready?”

Am I ready?

“I’m ready,” she says, ceasing cleaning to give me her full attention. “Tell me.”

I take a deep breath.

“Go on a date with me.”

Chapter 11. Iris

I blink once, maybe twice as I try to comprehend what Carter has just suggested. To clarify, I paraphrase to myself.
He wants to take me out. On a date?
Until I realize, he must be joking.
He’s definitely joking.
I’m simply stressed over these cookies I need to get done and not picking up on his sarcasm. That’s all. I let out a laugh that’s probably louder than it needs to be and I cover my mouth in response to my own boisterousness.

“I’m sorry, Carter, but—” I breathe and clean the counter again while we wait for the next batch of sugar cookies to bake. “Good one. Yes, James would definitely
love
that.”

I doubt James would care at all really but it’s fun to think about.

“Iris.” There’s a seriousness to Carter’s tone that says, he’s not kidding.

I won’t lie and say I’m not flattered. It’s one thing to think he’s adorable, sweet, handsome, sexy even – maybe fantasize about biting his lip and climbing onto his lap while I do it, but a date? That’s real. I have no idea how Ally would react to my seeing someone other than her father. Especially someone who’s only here in Spangler temporarily.

“Carter,” I start, softly, “it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why? Because of your ex?”

“I don’t know.”
Maybe a little.

“You know he’s just trying to get under your skin right?”

“I don’t---”

“Iris the guy wants to make absolute certain that you’re dependent on him for the rest of your life.  Why do you think he keeps showing up on your doorstep?  Literally.  He wants to move on but he doesn’t want you to. Can’t you see that?”

I don’t answer him. That doesn’t mean I don’t hear him. I’m simply having a difficult time believing James wants anything to do with me anymore.  He made it quite clear when he left for mistress number two that he wasn’t happy being married.

“Seriously, what the fuck?” Carter says, angrily.

Which gets me to thinking. “And what about you Carter? What are you trying to do?”

When he steps toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes, he seems confident in what he’s about to say. Sincere, even.

“I’m just trying to see what goes on behind the facade.” He says it like he sees already.

My defensive mechanisms make their attempt to stay strong though. “What facade?”

He bends down so we’re eye level with each other now. “The one where you make everyone think you’ve got your shit together.”

I stare at him, wanting to deny it. Wanting to tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Only I can’t and he does. I’m deep in thought over what to do. It’s not until Carter’s mouth is next to my ear and his breath is hot on my skin that I realize how close he is. My entire body is humming.

“Say yes, Iris,” he murmurs. It’s like a plea really. One that promises that his lips could be on mine again at any moment.

I stiffen at the possibility. Then I let out a shaky breath before answering him before I can change my mind. “Okay.”

For just one moment, I’m not worried about what anyone else wants, but me.

Carter smiles slowly, triumphantly. “Great. I’ll pick you up Saturday, seven o’clock.”

“Okay.” I’m still in lockdown on coherent thoughts, but then I remember and blink away the moment. “Wait. I can’t.”

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “Iris, come on, we just---”

“No.” I stop him from thinking I don’t want to. Because I soooo want to. “I mean, I can’t, the carnival is Saturday.”

This takes the wind right out of his sails. He lets out a heavy sigh and says, “Sunday then.”

“Clean up.”

“All day?”

“Probably.”

He thinks for a few minutes. “Next Friday?”

That’s gin rummy night. Not that it’s something I couldn’t normally skip, but next week also happens to be Cynthia’s birthday. “I can’t.”

Carter eyes me. He thinks I’m just putting him off, and I probably should be but I’m not. And just when I think he’s going to give up on the idea, he grins.

“Fine, then I’ll meet you at the carnival.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He ignores me as he backs his way down the hallway toward my front door, pointing at me as he goes. “Sevenish?”

“I have to work, Carter.”

“Seven-thirty then.” He flashes that Boy Scout smile at me and what am I supposed to say?

He slaps his hands together and turns to go. I’m sure I should be feeling apprehensive about this whole thing but right now, all I feel is elated. He waves over his shoulder before the door closes behind him. “See you tomorrow, Iris.”

Just like that, he’s gone and I have a date. While I’m supposed to be supervising everything and anything that goes on at said date spot.

Did Ally hear any of our conversation? I don’t hear a sound from upstairs. Either she’s got her headphones in already or she’s standing next to her door, listening for me as I listen for her. I start up the staircase and have no idea why I’m tip-toeing but I do it anyway. I approach Ally’s bedroom door and push it open, quietly. I take a moment to miss the days when she was still my baby girl, wanting to hug me tight and snuggle whenever she got the chance. As she lays on her bed with her eyes closed and her ear buds in, I very desperately wish I could get some of that time back. I turn to go and bang my pinky toe on her door.

Mottherrrr of God.

“Mom?”

I turn and Ally’s now sitting up, turning her music off.

“Hey, honey. I just wanted to check on you.”

She smiles and picks up one of her school books, then opens it and flips through a few pages, avoiding eye contact. I walk over and sit on the edge of her bed.

“You okay?” I push the hair out of her face and behind an ear. “With that thing your dad said? He didn’t mean it like---”

“It’s cool Mom,” she insists. I can tell it’s not by the way she wrings her hands and twists her fingers. For now, I’ll leave it alone as I know she’ll only get upset again if I push.

“Okay.” She’s been that way since she was little. “I’ve got to finish up the cookies for this weekend, so . . .”

She leafs through her book some more and I get up to reach for the door again.

“Mom?”

I turn. Ally’s chewing on the inside of her mouth. Maybe she’s ready now.

“Yeah honey?”

“I know you already said no but I really need to be at this party on Saturday night.”

Part of me is disappointed. I should have known that topic wasn’t done. “Ally . . .”

“I know you think it’s stupid and that I have responsibilities and all that other stuff, but Mom, I have pressure too.
Political
pressure to be there. With my team. And if I’m not, I just . . .” She sighs. “I’m gonna look like such a jerk, being the only dance team member not going.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, honey.”

The truth is, if it were at Karen’s house, I might let her go but apparently the girl hosting this party is some relative of a friend who lives two subdivision over and whose parents I don’t even know.

“Think about it at least?” she begs.

And I can give her that. “Okay.”

This seems to suffice. For now.

* * *

Downstairs, I busy my mind with a tick list of things I need to get done tomorrow but in the back of mind, sits Carter Blackwood and his hungry voice, asking me to say yes to his date request. I close my eyes and feel his breath against my neck, his lips against mine and his hands around my waist. I squeeze the frosting bag tightly when my mind wanders to other areas I’d like Carter’s hands to roam. My eyes flash open and my shoulders slump when I see I’ve made a mess of three cookies at once.

“Nice job.”

I wipe the counter down, scrape the wasted frosting off of the cookies and begin again. I try not to think about Carter’s bright brown eyes that crinkle at the edges when his smile reaches them. Or the way he smirks when I stumble over my words from time to time. A lot of times. What will a date with this man even be like? At the carnival, no less.

Is he planning on wining and dining me right smack dab in the between the dunking machine and water balloon darts? Or will he pull me behind the ticket booth and kiss me like he did earlier?

Unexpectedly, thoughts of Ally come to mind and how irresponsible I am to be fooling around with the idea of going out with a man who has no chance of becoming a stable part of mine or my daughter’s life. I’ve made a mistake here. There’s no justifying myself, no matter how many different ways this situation could go down. I come to a conclusion that may not feel great but it’s probably the right thing to do – even if it does make my stomach twist up inside.

After I finish decorating the cookies and clean up, I find myself outside, several times throughout the evening, in an attempt to casually catch Carter coincidentally
so I can very nonchalantly tell him I don’t think it’s a great idea that we give Ally any wrong impressions by going out on this “date” . . . but he’s never seen. His garage door isn’t even open. I stay inside the rest of the night but do not fail to peek out of my front window every once in a while to see if he shows himself. It doesn’t happen.

Thoughts of the carnival, and Carter, and James and Ally flood my mind and keep me awake until well after two a.m. I dream that I have over slept the next day, missed the entire carnival and that Carter thinks I stood him up. He decides to shack up with Meg instead. Ally runs away with this Blake character to Las Vegas, gets married and pregnant in the same night, and I never see my grandchildren for the rest of my life.

* * *

The next morning, I’m running late for work and I’ve promised to drop Ally off at school. As I sit in the car with the engine running, I try to look for Carter since it
is
garbage day . . . but he doesn’t come out. Eventually, I have to go, and by some stroke of luck, I still manage to make it into the office on time.

The day goes fast. There’s a lot to do for Mark’s presentation. In fact, I’m at the office so late that not only has Ally found a ride home but she is in bed by the time I get home. Carter’s lights are off across the street as well. I’m tense, and achy. I take a long, hot bath and force myself to mentally walk through my day tomorrow instead of mentally walking my way over to Carter’s and committing subdivision suicide by sleeping with the house flipper. The bath works but the psychic preparation does not, but I manage to fall asleep at a decent hour this time.

Saturday morning and I swear I’m going to cancel this date – because it’s the smart thing to do. I make a full-fledged attempt to knock on Carter’s front door bright and early, before I have to leave for my carnival day errands, but he doesn’t answer.

I’m about to tell him I know he’s in there when a car approaches. Alex pulls into her driveway.
Coming home from who knows where.
I want to pinch myself for thinking the exact things I’ve heard Meg say so many times before.
And it’s none of my business.
She sits in her car for way too long. She’s probably waiting for me to disappear but I can out wait her. I have a teenager: I’m extremely patient. A proven fact when she exits her vehicle roughly five minutes later.

“Hey, there, Alex,” I say with a smile and a wave and some sort of cat like sneak attack walk I’ve acquired apparently.

She eyes me carefully as she makes her way to the front door. She adjusts the grip she has on her keys the same way I have many times, when I’m paranoid I’ll be mugged in broad daylight at the grocery store parking lot. I follow her but give her space. I can’t blame her for not trusting me to just want to say hello.

“Listen.” I stop her as she’s about to bolt inside and leave me standing here looking about as ridiculous as I feel.

“I just wanted to apologize.” I may as well handle this like a band aid on a bad cut. Rip it off fast and painfully.

Alex stops and gives me the same look she did a few moments ago.
Approach with extreme caution.

“For . . .?” she asks, as though she’s testing me.

This is my in. I just hope she accepts my sincerity. “I don’t know you.” I’m unsure all of a sudden, what I’m going to say myself. I’m still feeling the shame of my attitude.

“I have absolutely no reason to make judgments about you, and. . . I’m truly sorry I was such a jerk.”

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me with a thin line forming across her lips. “Is that you or Carter talking?”

“Me. It’s me,” I say. “It’s totally and completely me.  I mean he kind of sparked the moment but the rest is . . .” I take a deep breath.  “Me.”

I offer her a smile and this time, she returns it.

She relaxes her grip on her keys. “Apology accepted. Anyway, I probably owe you one too.”

“For what?” I laugh.

“Calling you a high and mighty bitch with a pole stuck up her ass behind your back, once or twice,” she admits freely.  “Maybe three times.”