Before I Ever Met You by Karina Halle
“He even sat on him briefly,” she adds, a satisfied smile to her lips. Back when I was a child, I learned on a Welsh pony called Silkie. She was my very own, until I outgrew her. Silkie passed a long time ago, as did my old thoroughbred Ruger, and now my family only has two, my mother’s old warmblood Duke that nearly took her to the Olympics, and her younger horse, Jeopardy. The rest of the horses at our twelve-stall stable are boarders, and one of them happens to be an Icelandic Horse, which is just small enough for Ty to feel comfortable around.
“That’s amazing,” I tell Ty, setting him down on the ground. “See, it’s not so bad to live here, when you get to use your magic on ponies.”
He still doesn’t look all that convinced but at least he grabs my hand as I walk to the house. “I still wish they were dinosaurs. I tried the magic to turn Taffy into a Styracosaurus, but it didn’t work.”
“Well I’m glad it didn’t work, Ty,” I say. “Could you imagine all the damage he would do?”
“Yes! It would be so cool.”
“Thanks for taking care of him,” I tell my mom as I pass her in the doorway. “Next week when he’s in school he won’t be in your hair as much.”
“Are you kidding?” she says, and standing this close to her I’m suddenly hit with that sad realization that she’s getting older. I guess that is what happens when you don’t see your parents for a while. “I’d keep him at home if I could. I have a lot of missed time to make up for with my little man.”
I give her a faint smile. Can’t help the pang of guilt over that.
My mother picks up on it and pinches my cheek like she used to. Chipmunk cheeks, as she once called them, only now I seem to have grown into them a bit. “I’m just so glad you’re both here, honey,” she says warmly. “How does it feel to have finished your first week at work?”
I nearly roll my eyes. “It doesn’t feel like I’m done, considering my boss is coming over for dinner.”
“Right, your boss,” she says as we step inside, heading toward the kitchen. “It’s kind of weird to hear you talk about Will that way.”
“Honestly, it’s been kind of weird.”
“But everything has been working out, right?”
“Well, yeah. Of course. He’s . . . nice.”
Nice. I need to try harder.
My mother is watching me with discerning eyes. “He is very nice. You don’t remember him much from when you were younger, do you?”
“Not really. And it’s probably for the best. I have to keep reminding myself as it is that I’m working for Dad now in a roundabout way. Speaking of, where is he?”
“Your father just got in. Taking a shower.”
“I think I’ll do the same. You’ll keep an eye on Tyson?”
“Of course.”
Earlier on my mother had said the dinner was at seven thirty, which gives me just over an hour to get ready. Even so, I’m taking my time, not wanting to rush. In fact I wish I had brought a bottle of wine to my room, it would really help with my nerves.
I’m not sure if I’m nervous that my boss is coming over, if it’s because it’s the first real family dinner since I’ve been here, or a combination of the two. I feel like I have to impress not only Will but my parents too. Thank god the only person who doesn’t expect anything different from me is Tyson. He’s always on my side.
Until he grows up to be a resentful teenager, but until that happens, he’s definitely my biggest fan.
I decide to make a bit of an effort. I blow dry my hair, so it’s this shiny sheen of light bronze, then do what I can with the little makeup I have. I should probably raid my mother’s bathroom for some contouring powder or something, but that reminds me too much of being a kid. Hell, every moment that I’m here reminds of being a kid.
My wardrobe is another challenge. I’ve worn every single work outfit I’ve got, and the rest of my shit is barely suited for anything other than running around at home after a seven-year old. The only thing I can salvage is the grey pencil skirt I wore on the first day, which desperately needs a wash since a few drops of spilled coffee made their way to the hem, and a simple black tank top.
I eye myself in the mirror, front, back, and side, sucking in my stomach and trying to make myself look as streamlined as possible. Abs in, abs in, I tell myself, like it’s a mantra. Thankfully I should be sitting behind the table for most of this.
Unless my parents seat me next to Will.
Oh god, I hope not.
I don’t know why the idea is freaking me out so much.
But it is.
I take a deep breath in and out, make another mental note to take up yoga, and decide to ask my mother if she has a necklace or earrings or something that I can borrow to liven this outfit up. I step out into the hall and immediately hear Will’s rich, deep voice sounding from the living room.
Ah, shit. How is he here already?
Then I hear my father’s laugh.
Hell. This is going to be a fucking trip.
I take another deep breath and make my way down the hall. With its floor to ceiling windows overlooking the pasture and riding ring, warm décor, and gas fireplace, the living room is one of my favorites, a place where I used to spend a lot of time drinking Dr. Pepper, doing my nails, and staring out the window at the horses.
Only now I’m staring stupidly at Will as he sits in the leather arm chair, leaning forward as he talks to my father, elbows on his thighs.
For the first time this week he’s not wearing a suit. And for the first time I’m realizing how fucking fit he is. It was always a given that he was in shape, what with his slim hips, his firm ass (not that I’ve been staring), and broad-shoulders. But now in an olive silk short-sleeved shirt, I can actually see the ropey muscle of his tanned forearms, the hard width of his biceps.
Wow.
I keep my mouth clamped together to prevent any drool from escaping and look to my father. That oughta set me right.
My father looks so old next to Will, especially with his shock of white hair and black framed glasses. Then again, he’s always had this Leslie Neilson thing going on. Both of them have a few fingers of scotch in their crystal highball glasses. A couple of Mad Men indeed.
“Jackie-O,” my father says loudly. He’s probably been at the scotch since he got on his plane this afternoon. “I was just talking to Will boy over here about you. I asked if it was time to get you a raise already.”
“And?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
“He says you’re on the right track,” my father says. “Would you like a drink?”
I probably should say no but I don’t. “Sure,” I say, heading toward the decanter on the bar car.
“Here, you sit,” Will says, getting to his feet. “I’ll get it.”
Before I can protest he’s pouring me a glass. And I’m staring at his ass.
“Well, well, well,” my father says. “And the boss is getting the employee a drink. Come on, Will, it should be the other way around. You’ve got her now, use her.”
I give Dad a wry look. Will just raises his brow at him before he passes me the glass, our fingers brushing against each other for a second. Any longer and I probably would have melted.
“Cheers to you, kid,” he says, raising his own glass at me, his eyes looking right into mine. “Sorry. Just Jackie.”
“Thank you Mr. McAlister,” I say deliberately.
“Mr. McAlister,” my father says with a laugh. “Boy, doesn’t that make you feel old?”
“Yes, it does,” Will muses.
“Oh come on,” I tease as I sip the scotch. “How can anyone feel old when you’re next to my father. He’s ancient.”
“That’s enough out of you,” my father admonishes me. “I’ve been away all week, and it feels like the world has crumbled without me here to keep you all in line.”
“Where’s your boy?” Will asks me, ignoring him. “Tyson, right?”
I look over my shoulder to the kitchen where my mothe
“He’s hiding,” I tell him. “He gets shy around people he doesn’t know.”
“Hell, the kid is still shy around me and I’m his grandfather.”
“Dad,” I say, warning him.
“I’m sure it will take him awhile to get used to things,” Will says smoothly. “But kids are resilient.”
Ty definitely is. But even so, he’s been through a lot. The other day he asked when Jeff was coming down to live with us. It tore me up inside to remind him it was just the two of us from now on, and Jeff was going to be gone for a long time.
God, I hope so, I think to myself, scared for one deep second at the idea of Jeff somehow showing up at our door one day.
“You okay?” Will asks, his voice low as he stares at me.
I look at him, blinking a few times. “What? Oh. Yes. Just, uh . . .thought of something.”
He stares at me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. I paste on a smile. “I should probably go check on him. Dinner will be ready soon, and for all I know he’s sitting around in his underwear.”
I quickly place the scotch on the coffee table and head upstairs. I can’t help but feel relieved the moment I’m alone in the hallway. Something about having both my father and Will here makes me feel like I’m on display, ripe for judging. I’ve had more than enough judgment in my life.
Tyson’s door is closed, so I take a moment to get my emotions under control before I knock. He’s so astute at picking up on them, and the last thing I want is for him to be freaked out. In fact, if he doesn’t want to have dinner with us, I don’t see a good reason for making him.
I knock softly. “Ty-Ty? Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
I open the door and see him sitting on the floor flipping through one of his favorite dinosaur books. He’s probably read it a million times by now, can name you every single dinosaur that’s in there. I pretty much know their names too, which would help at work if Will ever gave me anything that remotely pertained to the projects Mad Men Studios is helming.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Reading,” he says, not looking up at me.
“You know it’s almost dinner time.”
He pauses mid-page flip. “Yeah. Who is the man again? He sounds like Batman.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Well if you come down and meet him, maybe you’ll find out he is Batman.”
He gives me a suspicious look, wrinkling up his nose. “Batman would never just tell you he’s Batman.”
“Unless he trusts you and you ask nicely.” He’s not sure about that. “Look, I don’t really want to have dinner with them either,” I admit. “But he’s grandpa’s friend. And my boss.”
“Batman is your boss?”
“Yes. Maybe. We haven’t figured out if he’s Batman yet, remember?”
“Right.” But I can tell he’s a little more intrigued at the possibility that I might be working for Batman. I can only hope Will plays along with it.
“So do you want to come down?”
“Why don’t you want to have dinner?”
I sigh. “I mean, I do want to. It’s just . . .you know, I’m tired too. I had a long day at work, I wasn’t off riding Snickers and using magic.”
“Taffy. The pony was called Taffy.”
“But,” I remind him, “sometimes we do things we don’t feel like doing because it will make other people happy. This will make your grandma and grandpa very happy.”
“And Batman?”
“Sure.” I don’t think Will necessarily minds me being here, if anything I suspect it amuses him. Come to think about it, I’m pretty sure all I’ve been doing this week is amusing him in some way. He probably still thinks of me as a sulky teenager.
“So is his name Bruce Wayne?”
“We call him Will.”
“A fake name,” he says, tapping his fingers against his chin as he thinks.
I jerk my head toward the door. “Come on. We’ll go down together.”
Luckily he looks fairly presentable in jeans and a yellow polo shirt. Even though I rarely bought clothes for myself over the last few years, I always made a point to make sure Ty dressed well. Whatever he wanted, I did what I could to make sure he had it, one way or another. It’s just that Ty isn’t one to want for much, let alone ask for it. And the thing he does want—a good father—is something I can’t provide for him.
“You look sad,” he says to me as he gets to his feet.
I didn’t even realize my eyes were watering. “I’m not, just tired.”
I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
I take his hand and we head out into the hall.
Dad and Will are still in the living room, my mother now setting the dining room table.
“Right on time,” she says to us, placing a roast on the center of the table. Man, she went all out. When I was younger roasts were for very special occasions. I guess the second coming of Jackie Phillips is a good enough excuse.
Will and my father get up, finishing their glasses of scotch before coming over. Tyson holds my hand tighter.
“You excited for dinner, Tyson?” my dad asks, smiling at him. “Or are you more excited about desert?”
Ty doesn’t say anything, just leans into me a little more.
“Ty,” I tell him, gesturing to Will. “This is my boss, Batman.”
Will breaks into a devastating smile. I swear I grip Ty’s hand tighter, as if to ground me. Will’s smile should be made illegal. Or at least taken with caution. Warning: may make you weak at the knees. Do not look at smile if operating heavy machinery.
“Well, you know the first rule of Batman is that you never talk about Batman,” Will says. He crouches down so he’s at Ty’s level, and I can’t help but marvel at the hard muscles of his back. “But I can tell you’re the type of guy who can keep a secret.”
Ty nods slowly.
“Atta boy,” Will says, patting him lightly on the arm and straightening up to look me in the eye. “Cute kid you got there, Just Jackie.”
“Thank you Mr. McAlister.” My lips twist into a smirk.
“Dinner is getting cold,” my father says, even though you can plainly see the steam rising up from the dishes.
I’m about to ask them where we should sit when Ty makes the decision for us. He heads straight over to his chair and pats the empty one beside him. “Mom, you’re sitting here.”
“As you wish,” I tell him, happily taking my place.
But that means Will is beside me at the head of the table.
I have to take extra care not to accidently play footsies with him.
Dinner ends up a lot less awkward than I had anticipated. It might be because my father and Will are loose with scotch, it could be because my mother and I have had nearly a whole bottle of red wine. Either way, it’s working.
Until Dad and Will start talking about work. Something to do with problems with the lead animator at our office.
“Must you two talk about this during dinner?” my mother scolds them.
“As you can see, dear,” my father says lazily, gesturing to his empty plate that he practically licked clean, “I’ve eaten my dinner like a good boy.”
“Well, I’m sure Will didn’t come here to talk about work.”
“Phfff,” my father says. “Work is all Will and I talk about.” Then my father looks to me. “And now we have another employee of Mad Men Studios at the table. What say you, Jackie. What do you have to say?”
I exchange a glance with my mom before nibbling on a carrot, fully aware that everyone is staring at me. “I, uh . . .”
“Ted, come on,” Will says. “Give the kid a break. She’s only been working a week. Let her have her weekend. It doesn’t help that her boss is here.”
My father makes a grumbling sound then looks to my mother. “Where’s the pie?”
“Grandpa Ted,” Ty says loudly, s
“Yes, my boy?” my father asks him, adjusting his glasses.
It’s not your glasses that’re the problem, it’s the scotch, I think to myself.
“I really like dinosaurs, as you know.”
My father grins at him. “I do know. I also hear you’re an expert.”
“Yeah, well,” Ty says, wobbling his head from side to side. “I saw this thing on TV today for the World of Science and they said they have dinosaurs and I was wondering if you could take me.”
This is the first I’m hearing of it. “What thing?” I ask him.
“I dunno,” he says with a shrug, shoving his vegetables to the corner of the plate. “After I was with Taffy I was watching TV. Grandma Diane let me. And I saw a commercial and it said it was here in Vancouver. A whole dinosaur exhibit.”
Oh. “Well, I’ll take you honey, you know I’m up for that,” I tell him.
He sucks on his teeth, looking down.
Fuck. This is definitely one of those cases where he doesn’t want his mom to take him, he wants a man. A dad. Someone who will appreciate the fine art of the prehistoric kind.
“I’d love to take you,” my father says. “But my week is pretty busy.”
“What about tomorrow? It’s Saturday. You don’t work Saturdays.”
My father sighs and I can tell it pains him. He glances at me briefly before looking back to Ty. “Maybe next week, okay? I’ve got a lot of work to do this weekend.”
I’m wondering if that’s true. My father is fifty-seven. He shouldn’t be working this much.
Ty goes back to looking crestfallen.
Will clears his throat. “I know you didn’t ask me, Ty,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. “But I would love to go.”
Everyone looks at Will in surprise.
“Really?” Ty asks quietly. Because he can’t believe Batman would volunteer for this.