It All Started With a Lima Bean (48 page)

“If you really want to go, then go. I can rearrange some things at work,” he muttered later that night as I lay in bed scouring the beach resort pamphlet that had come in the mail that afternoon.

“You have no idea how much I need this.”

“Then go—enjoy your weekend. I’ll do what I can to make it work.”

With that retort, he grabbed the blanket, rolled over, and promptly fell asleep. On the flipside, I stayed awake for hours, losing myself in the virtual pages of my e-reader.

I felt slightly guilty that he would have to rearrange his schedule, but not guilty enough to stay home. I deserved the break. I
needed
the break before I completely lost my mind.

So there I was at the beach, taking advantage of my much needed getaway while Michael and Eli probably enjoyed a classic burger from Burger Land. Eli would be overjoyed with the idea of a junior meal for dinner. He had been begging for one of the new Space Deputy toys for a week. I looked forward to hearing Eli’s sweet little voice on the phone when I called him later that evening to tell him goodnight.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie,” I cooed.

“Hey, Mommy! Guess what? I got the new Captain Neptune tonight!”

I laughed. “I figured Daddy would take you to Burger Land.”

“Yeah, and it’s so cool!”

“I bet,” I agreed, envisioning him holding it up for me to see.

“Wanna talk to Daddy?” He was obviously too busy with his new toy to spend another second talking to me.

“Sure, sweetie. Bye. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mommy!”

“Hey you! Are you having fun?” Michael asked as he brought the phone to his ear.

“So far I am! We’re going out tonight too! Karaoke, I think,” I said, a little too exuberantly.

“Sounds fun. I hope you girls have a great time.” He didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as I did.

“Thanks. Well, I guess I better go get ready for our big night out. I just wanted to call to say goodnight and check on Eli.”

“We’re fine,” Michael assured me.

“I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Okay, goodnight. Talk to you later.” I heard the phone disconnect and I sat there, dumbfounded.

“Love you too,” I grumbled at the blank screen. It was a common occurrence when ending my conversations with Michael. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time he told me he loved me. Most of his sweet nothings and terms of endearment were reserved for Eli…and that bimbo from his office. What was her name? Dollface? Homewrecker? Oh yeah—Bridget. I remembered the first time I became familiar with
‘Bridget’
:

“Hello, Weston and Associates. This is Mr. Thomas’s office. May I help you?” A perky voice answered my husband’s phone one day from his private office line.

“Who’s speaking?” I asked sharply.

“This is Bridget, Mr. Thomas’s new personal assistant. How may I help you?”

“Well, Bridget, this is Kaitlyn Thomas, Michael’s wife. May I speak with him, please?”

“Sure, Mrs. Thomas. Just a moment, please.”

I heard indistinct sounds and murmurings as the phone was being passed to Michael.

“Hey.” Michael sounded annoyed. “What’s up?”

“I…uh…” I couldn’t really remember what I needed. Bridget’s perkiness coming from my husband’s personal phone had completely messed with my mind.

“Thanks, hon’,” Michael’s muffled voice echoed through the phone as if he had a hand covering the speaker while he spoke to Bridget. “Oh yeah, while you’re out will you stop by Starbucks for me?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Thomas,” she cooed.

God, I hated her.

“Do you want your usual?”

He has a usual?

“Sure thing. Thanks, darlin’.”

Hon’? Darlin’? What the hell?! Heat coursed through my veins as I struggled to contain my rage.

“Sorry about that,” Michael’s voice rang clear as he dropped his hand from the phone speaker, indicating that he, once again, was speaking to me. “Did you need something, Kaitlyn?”

Yeah, I need that tramp to get fired.

“Yeah, I just wanted to remind you that Eli’s tee ball game is tonight at six.”

Michael sighed. “Sorry, I have to work late tonight.”

“Of course you do.”

“What was that for?”

I mocked him in the same pouty voice Bridget used to get his attention. “Thanks hon’, and sure thing, darlin’.” Then anger hijacked my voice as I grumbled, “What the hell, Michael?”

“What? It’s totally innocent. Bridget knows that. I just say junk like that so she’ll bring me my coffee. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right. I guess that’s why when I fix your coffee for you every morning you barely take time to thank me, much less call me darlin’.”

Michael huffed. “I don’t have time to argue, Kaitlyn. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I won’t say it again. Bridget knows I’m teasing her. It’s nothing. I swear.”

“Okay, Michael. Whatever. I guess we’ll see you after the game.”

“Fine. See you later.”

Michael disconnected, and I gripped the phone angrily as if taking my frustration out on the electronic device would somehow rectify the situation.

“Love you too,” I muttered sarcastically, as the words ‘hon’ and ‘darlin’ bounced around in my mind like tiny wooden balls tumbling in a bingo cage.

“Who’s ready for a night on the town?” Shannon called from the bathroom as she stood in front of the mirror adding the final touches of her makeup. Shannon had been a stay-at-home mom for the last ten years. The epitome of a homemaker, she always left me envious of her organizational skills and her level head. Shannon always seemed to have it all together.

“I know I am!” Tori yelled from the kitchen as she poured some vodka into her glass of orange juice. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been out with the girls!” Without a doubt, Tori was the most physically fit mom of our group. Almost nothing prevented her from keeping her strict workout schedule at the local YMCA. She had muscle definition in places I couldn’t even imagine having muscles at all.

“I’m ready, too!” Lisa’s five inch stiletto heels tapped across the tile floor as she walked into the kitchen to grab her purse off the counter.

Together, we were excited to have a few nights of fun without catering to the needs of our families.

The bar was packed with loud and obnoxious drunks. We chose to sit at a table in the back corner of the bar so we could actually hear our conversation over the roar of the crowd and the thumping music from the speakers. The walls and ceilings of the bar were lined with dollar bills that had been haphazardly stapled by satisfied patrons like offerings to a shrine or something. Some of the dollar bills had signatures on them while others had messages and inspirational quotes. Above our heads, about a foot from the ceiling, a small shelf ran the length of the walls. Empty beer and liquor bottles lined the shelves. The wooden floors creaked as people walked by our table on their way to high five the giant claw of the crab statue near the entrance. Our waiter told us that the tradition of fist bumping and high fiving Creighton the Crab started shortly after the bar had opened nearly forty years ago.

I sat with my back to the stage. My friends and I were laughing hysterically at the fools we had made of ourselves during our poor rendition of Aretha Franklin’s song,
Respect
. Downing a few drinks prior to our performance gave me enough liquid courage to embarrass myself on stage. I had immersed myself so deeply in the conversation that I barely noticed karaoke had ended and a band had started setting up on stage.

In the background, a voice emerged from the microphone. “Testing…one, two, three. Testing…”

The hair on the back of my neck stood upright. My body seemed to recognize the smooth and soothing voice, but my mind could not recall it. I quickly spun around in my seat and peered at the figure on stage. However, we sat too far away, and the terrible lighting in the bar restricted my view.

“What’s the matter, Kaitlyn?” Shannon sounded concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That voice…it sounds so familiar. I’ve heard it before,” I stammered.

“Seriously? The sign on the door said this band is debuting tonight. Besides, who do you know that lives at the beach?” Tori asked.

“No one, I guess.” But, there was something about the voice that I recognized. I felt sure I had heard it before. I knew it from somewhere, but
where
?

The mysterious voice began to sing. My thoughts drowned out the chatter around me. I dug deeper into my memory as I grasped for any recollection I could muster; nothing sprang to my mind. That soothing melodic voice crept up the back of my spine, tingling and sensuous, radiating through my chest. I just couldn’t conjure up the face connected to it. The timbre resonated familiarity, but the perplexity remained.

“Seriously, Kaitlyn, what’s gotten into you?” Tori looked at me wide-eyed. “You don’t look so good.”

I didn’t realize it until she said it, but my face felt flushed, and my palms felt sweaty. “I don’t know, guys. I just can’t explain it. I think I know the lead singer of this band. What was the band’s name again?”

“Big Five, or something cheesy like that. Why?” Lisa piped up.

“I don’t know…I just can’t place it…”

The face connected to the voice remained anonymous as the conversation swirled around me. I considered just getting up and walking toward the front of the stage to get a good look. I needed to quickly solve the mystery; it was driving me crazier by the second. However, to avoid looking like some desperate middle-aged groupie heading to the stage for attention, I stayed seated and half-heartedly listened to Tori talk about her workout routine and her newest ‘clean-eating’ diet of black beans, edamame, and kale. Listening to her drone on about pairing her meals with an organic strawberry smoothie made with fresh Greek yogurt didn’t help divert my attention at all.

Suddenly, someone spoke from behind me. “Kaitlyn?”

The girls at my table froze. Their eyes looked up at the mystery man attached to the voice. I whirled around to see who caused my friends’ jaws to drop in awe. My breath caught in my throat while my heart immediately began pounding in my chest. A face from a long forgotten past stood in front of me.

His name immediately sprang from my lips, “Chris!”

“Wow, Kaitlyn. I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Chris,” I said again almost breathlessly. “How long has it been?”

“Eight years and five months, almost to the day,” Chris blurted without even taking time to think about it, as if he had been etching hash marks on his wall for each passing day.

“Unbelievable,” I said with a hint of nostalgia, as my mind tried to drift back to a time I had tried earnestly to erase from my memory. Immediately, I snapped myself back into reality. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to appear collected.

“I live here. I write music by day, and play music by night. Our band,
Fifth Wheel
, is working on our first album. What are you doing here?” Chris looked around the table. The girls stared up at him. I couldn’t tell if they were ogling him because he was stunningly gorgeous, or if they were just shocked by the fact that another man—besides my husband—so obviously took my breath away. Deep down, I hoped they didn’t even notice my breathless anguish.