One to Tell the Grandkids (6 page)

“Slate isn’t like most of my other friends, and back then, I’d have been the first one to laugh if you’d told me this twenty-year-old, skinny, long-haired, goofy jackass was going to become my best friend.” He laughed, shaking his head as he remembered Slate as he had been then—all grins and eagerness to get Caleb’s tattoo just right. He worked so hard, and the result was so beautiful, Caleb teared up the first time he saw it. “Bottom line? I was in a really bad place when I met Slate. He was exactly what I needed.”

Taryn was quiet, and when he looked over, it seemed like she was deep in thought. Not knowing if he’d gone a step too far, Caleb’s tendency to babble kicked in.

“I feel like if you’re looking for something specific, you run the risk of missing something fantastic. So you’re not like the other people Slate has been with. What does that matter? It’s not like any of them have been amazing, at least not for him.”

“It seems so farfetched. What are the odds I would fall in love with the guy I don’t remember being with?”

“Reality is stranger than fantasy most times. Anyway, don’t think about that. Love doesn’t give you a choice. If you want to know the truth, love is a sadistic son of a bitch with a dickish sense of humor. Have you ever heard an easy love story? You don’t fall for the one who makes sense or the one who’s easy.”

“Maybe falling for my baby’s father sounds too easy.”

Caleb didn’t have an answer for that.

Chapter Six

F
riday night was awkward. Saturday was a little better, but Slate still dragged Caleb along with them to dinner. Sunday, Taryn found the secret passphrase that broke the tension between them.

“Can I see your sketchbook?”

Slate was shy at first, but as he began to explain how he came up with designs based on his clients’ descriptions, he came alive. “Like ninety percent of the time, people come in and they want something dumb. You know. Girls with their butterflies. Guys with snakes and sexy ladies on their biceps. Whatever, man. It’s their bodies, but I prefer the ones who come up with something unique and meaningful. When they come to me with an idea or words they want to incorporate, and I can bring it to life? That’s my favorite part of the job. Your tats are supposed to be a part of your body forever, you know? They should have as much meaning as possible.”

“What do your tats mean?” Taryn asked. She shouldn’t have been so shocked when Slate pulled his shirt off.

After that, Slate was a lot more comfortable. It was nice until Taryn realized the more at ease he grew, the more Slate got touchy-feely. It wasn’t anything major—just his hand on her arm to get her attention or at her back to guide her in the direction they were supposed to be walking. He took them mini golfing and had to retrieve her ball from the water. When he put the ball back in her hand, his fingers lingered over hers.

Taryn didn’t know if he was naturally a more hands-on kind of guy or if he was flirting. She couldn’t be surprised when, as she was getting ready to leave, he tried to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she turned her head away. She hated the way his shoulders slumped and his whole body tensed.

“That’s my bad.”

Taryn crossed her arms, trying to get her head on straight. “Is that what you want from me?” She wasn’t angry. She was sick of the confusion that came with coming to terms with a life altering event with a person she didn’t know how to read. How could they even begin to get on the same page?

“I don’t know. It seems like we should try, shouldn’t we?”

He looked so much younger than he was when he looked at her with wide eyes. He was trying so hard to do the right thing. “You probably have more experience with dating than I do,” she said. “I don’t go on many dates.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t laugh at me, okay? And don’t tell me I’m jaded. There’s a huge difference between being jaded and not being in love with the idea of love.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Dating a perfect stranger has never made any sense to me.”

“Um. Isn’t that the point of dating?”

“Sure, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. You take a random chance on a completely random person based on what? Aesthetics? My only long-term relationship happened because we were familiar with each other. We were friends until the sexual tension got the better of us.

“Rob and Mel keep telling me it wouldn’t kill me to give a guy or gal a chance. They get so exasperated because I ignore anyone who hits on me. Well . . .” She looked up at Slate and blushed. “For the most part. I just don’t see the point of it all. I don’t want to be charming. I don’t want to be charmed.”

“So you’ve never dated?”

“I’ve tried and hated it. I was self-conscious and ridiculous the whole time, worried about whether or not this random person liked me. If I was doing or saying the right things. Who cares? If someone is going to fall in love with me, shouldn’t it be an accident? I don’t want to try to make it happen.”

Slate stared at her, his mouth open as though he couldn’t think of what to say. She should have known better. This conversation never went well. “Okay. I guess what I’m trying to say is I think our situation is complicated enough without trying to navigate a potential romance. Can we just try being friends first? No games. No dates. Can we just hang out without expectation?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” There was a hint of relief in his tone.

When Caleb pulled up to carpool back home, Slate and Taryn hugged. Like friends.

Later that week, Slate made the trek down to Orange to visit her for the day. He said he was curious about what she did, so she let him follow her to work.

Taryn was a makeup artist by trade. She’d done it for the living, but she took a number of mortuary science classes so she could do it for the dead. She explained the process of preparing a body for burial, the chemicals, what they did, and the difference between doing makeup for the living and the dead. Slate looked a little green around the edges at first—the woman Taryn was working on was misshapen after a brutal tumble down the side of a cliff—but he rallied. He seemed fascinated by the whole business. He peppered their conversation with questions, listening intently as she answered.

His inquisitiveness sparked questions of her own.

“You don’t think I’m creepy for enjoying my work?”

“Why would this make you creepy?”

Taryn shrugged, trying to ignore the none-too-gentle tug at her heart. “My family doesn’t understand why I would want to deal with dead people all day. I have to do makeup for dead babies and little kids all the time. They really don’t get that.”

“So, what? People shouldn’t be made up for funerals just because someone would have to deal with a dead body? Anything’s creepy when you think about it in the wrong light. Look at me. I scar people’s flesh for a living. That sounds like something you’d hear on a procedural cop show.”

“It does sound psychotic.”

“I think what you do is great. Not everyone could do this, but it’s an important job.” He looked down at the broken young woman on the slab, the curiosity in his features turned to compassion. “This is her last goodbye. This is the last time her family and friends are going to see her.”

“That’s how I feel.”

“Will you tell me about your one relationship?” Slate asked when they sat down to lunch that Sunday.

Taryn looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Curiosity.” He flashed her a winning grin. “We’re friends, right?”

“Well played.” She rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her folded hands. “His name was Javier. We met at freshman orientation. That was before I decided on beauty school and then a mortuary science certificate. Our freshman and sophomore years, we traveled in the same social circle and eventually ended up together.

“Javier was the know-it-all type. Arguments with him were frequent, and they always ran longer than anyone was comfortable with. They were the tiring type of argument where, when all was said and done, there was nothing accomplished except headaches and broken pride. He had a habit of taking an offhand comment and picking it to death.”

“Sounds like a real prince.”

“No, really. There were a lot of great things about Javier. Give me a little credit. There had to be something good about him for me to have been interested in the first place. He was intelligent in a too-smart-for-his-own-good type of way. A lot of what he talked about fascinated me. When he wasn’t arguing, he could be interesting.

“We were together for two years, and I wasn’t unhappy. I meant what I said before. I’m not jaded about relationships at all. There are a lot of great things about being in a relationship. Friendly conversation over dinner, shoulder massages after a bad day, and regular sex.”

“Can never go wrong with regular sex.” Slate waggled his eyebrows.

Taryn smirked. “Odd jobs around the house were just done. I didn’t have a chance to notice a burned-out light bulb before it had been replaced. He shared the cooking and cleaning burden. Oh, and my car. Javier never would have let my car get to this point. Sometimes I miss the partnership much more than I miss the man.”

“I get that. I miss waking up with someone.”

“You like morning breath, huh?”

“What can I say?” He leaned forward over the table. “But speaking of odds and ends getting taken care of, I have another question for you. Is there any special reason why you haven’t taken your car to be fixed?”

“Necessity and laziness. It’s not breaking down. I just don’t trust it to go thirty-five miles in stop-and-go traffic. It tends to overheat when it idles for too long. I work right down the street, so it’s useable in my day to day life. I wouldn’t try to go on the freeway with it, though.”

“What would you say to me taking it home with me to fix?”

“You know how to fix cars?”

“Well, no. But I have people, man.”

“You really don’t have to do anything. I’ve just been lazy. I’ve been meaning to take it in for months.”

“Let me take care of it. Plus I can get it done from cheap to free, depending on what’s wrong with the thing. I told you—I’ve got people.”

Taryn tapped her chin, thinking it through.

When she didn’t answer, he went on. “People keep telling me things between us are going to get complicated when the baby comes. More complicated, I guess. We should take care of this now while everything is, I dunno, calm?”

Taryn looked up at him, unsure if she liked the word
we
thrown in there. Pushing that aside, she considered his offer. “You’re right. I really need to get it done before it breaks down completely. It shouldn’t be too hard to get rides, or maybe I could rent a car for a little while.”

“Caleb would help if I asked him to.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask him to do that. He’s already done too much carting me to LA and back.”

“It’s not like he went out of his way. If anything, bringing you along means he can use the carpool lane. He doesn’t have a lot to do in Orange County anyway, and he thinks you’re good company.”

Taryn was pleased at this revelation. She found her conversations with Caleb interesting and looked forward to them as part of her weekends with Slate. In fact, she’d been disappointed when Slate offered to come to her this weekend because it meant she was missing out on seeing Caleb.

Still, she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. Slate and Caleb were new to her. She would be much more comfortable working something out with Mel, Rob, or her coworkers. They’d all known each other for years, so there was a little give and take about their relationships.

Then Slate laughed. “Oh man. We’re so dumb.”

“What?”

“If I drive your car to LA, that means you have my car. Problem solved.”

“Oh, yeah. But that’s even worse. How will
you
get around?”

“You know my place is only about a mile from the shop. I don’t mind the walk.”

“Slate, you shouldn’t—”

“I want to do this for you.” He sat up, crossing his legs as he looked at her. “I want to help. This whole pregnancy thing.” He gestured vaguely at her stomach. “I can tell it’s a pain in the ass. I feel bad. I’d help you with all that if I could.
Since I can’t, let me do this one thing for you. Really. I want to.”

It was impossible to argue with that smile of his.

Exhaling on a gust, Taryn nodded. “Okay. Twist my arm if you must. I just hope it makes it back to your place.”

“No big deal if it doesn’t. My mom pays for triple A for me.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“She worries. She’s a mom, you know?”

Taryn said nothing, but she pressed her palm against her still flat belly, wondering not for the first time what kind of mother she would be. Despite all the morning sickness, her conversations with her family and Slate, so much of this didn’t feel real. She took things one day at a time, dealing with the changes in her body, at work, and the way she ate.