Page 31 of Deep Gap

Karen has always needed that continued closeness to her son, and I was the only one who could give it to her. She once mentioned his aunt had become a grandmother. I wasn’t rubbing her nose in the mud that—albeit a long shot—I still have the option of providing grandkids to my parents, but I’d taken that milestone from her.

“They’ve both figured it out, and she has a problem with us, Greer. A big one.”

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The knots in my belly while I’m working aren’t as romantic as they’d been a few days ago. I slink around corners upon hearing Karen’s voice, not wanting to answer questions about Byron. I don’t want to lie to her about my feelings for him or the subtle moments when my heart considers where all of this is leading with him.

Part of me wishes I’d been more upfront about Ilona with my best friend’s mother. If Karen was aware of another relationship, perhaps we’d have a starting point and whatever is happening now wouldn’t seem strange and foreign. But I’ve also always known Karen’s continued interest in me circled around my connection to Ellis. She’s still working through everything she lost.

Aside from the potential future I’d stolen from all of us, I’d been afraid after Ellis died that I’d never get over having him as a confidant. How many people’s first loves die, let alone at their hands? Not many, I’d predict. Ilona changed that. Although it’s been almost as many years since Ilona’s and my last non-goodbye, Byron’s helped me wade through the waters and see I can let go of some of the hardest parts while holding onto the best memories.

I’m glad to have a friend in him. That Byron held me close, and we talked about our troubles when it was clear any relationship we have won’t be smooth sailing. That he didn’t use, abuse, and discard me after getting his way. Well, sort of his way. When I wouldn’t give in to Waylon, he set out to teach me a lesson. But what I learned was there is someone I can depend on and who won’t push me into anything I’m not ready for.

I’m also thankful for Mac’s support. He’s sought me out as I’ve hidden in the supply closet and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder to talk with me about splitting the last hive he’d left whole a spring ago. Like his attitude about Ellis, never once has Mac pressed for information about where Byron and I stand. It makes it easier to acknowledge random things that have happened at home that Mac would find humorous, like Jovie’s current infatuation with popcorn and how we can get her to do almost any trick for it. And not quite as awkward when I do mention Ellis’s name in passing. We both do bring him up. We both miss him. But somehow we’ve bridged the gap from where we stood almost a decade ago and I’m thankful for that.

In Mac’s presence, I worry less about retribution and either Byron or I losing our jobs. It was an enormous concern when Byron told me Karen was unhappy. It wouldn’t take long for her to hire a new custodian. Mac has trained enough animal trainers over the years. Byron is replaceable. I’d have guilt if Karen fired Byron, or forced him to quit. He loves the training center. He has friends in Brighton and, like Mac and Karen have become, Trig is the only family he’s got.

I fidget in the car on the way to the gender reveal, smoothing my dress and wringing my hands. Driving short distances with Byron has become as normal as riding the bus. I still prefer the bus. Statistically, there’s a tenfold less likelihood of a crash and most car accidents happen close to home.

“Nervous?”

“That I’ll make a good impression, yeah.”

My mind wanders back to Byron’s comment about Trig’s wife being attractive. I’ve tried to block out him teasing Trig that he’d given Tallulah to a criminal. We wouldn’t be going to this party if Byron really felt blindsided by whatever Trig is involved in, would we? I hope it’s the case that he sees beyond my past and judges the full picture as well.

Please don’t make today turn into a mistake, I silently plead as we pull up to the curb.

A small group of men are out front. A preschooler is on Trig’s shoulders. He’s wearing Trig’s toque and tapping out the beat from the music, using the top of Trig’s head as a drum. Two elementary school-aged kids are drawing with sidewalk chalk. We’re introduced around—a few of the guys telling Byron it’s nice to see him again—and make our way inside.

Hardly inside the door, Kimber greets us, motioning us to the kitchen. I gingerly place our gift on the counter and take a seat. Byron stands behind me.

“You’ve not once brought a guest, so… Scram,” Kimber says polite but firmly, fluffing her fingers in his direction. To me, she directs a welcoming smile and offers me a choice of pink lemonade or baby blue punch. A stork-topped toothpick nesting on two maraschino cherries garnishes both glasses.

“Oh, I don’t drink alcohol.”

“It’s okay. Neither do I—even when I’m not baking babies.”

“Kimber concocts the best mocktails.” A gorgeous blonde with victory rolls and bright red lipstick sitting next to me adds. “She taught me all of her secret recipes before she quit tending bar so that I could keep the Sweet Caroline’s crew placated. A person could get stumbling drunk ordering one after the next… if they didn’t know they were non-alcoholic. For the most part though, we just wind up on a sugar high and constantly peeing. I’m Holly by the way.” She shakes my hand.

“Speaking of sugar highs and peeing, I passed my glucose test!”

“Go you!” Holly high-fives Kimber. “I would have been mightily concerned for Trig’s well-being if you were off caffeine and chocolate croissants indefinitely.”

“Right? Aidy brought me a whole bag from Baked Beans to celebrate. Aidy is my daughter.” Kimber points outside to a college aged-woman with violet hair. The girl turns her profile at the same moment and I’m struck by how much more like sisters they appear than parent and child.

I glance back, and Kimber is rubbing her belly in slow circles.

“Are you excited that you may have another girl?”

“It doesn’t matter to me either way. I’m simply glad to be doing this one last time and that Aidy is here to be a part of it. Our son, Owen, doesn’t remember what it’s like not having his big sister living with us. I can’t imagine what O’s life would be without her or Morgan. We’re really blessed that they’re around.”

So this kid who is dating Kimber’s daughter and lives with us, Morgan. He did some time.

That’s what Trig said at the start of the Kimber-is-hotter-than-Greer conversation. And no doubt about it, even this far along with twins, Kimber holds a certain appeal I can appreciate. But I have Byron’s attention and he has mine. And more than that, I don’t quite feel out of place in suburbia. Or, like my outcast status, is anything Kimber is scrutinizing.

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