Quadruplets Make Six Read online

Libby

  I was nervous for my date with Graham. Though Boka might not be a fancy restaurant to him, it was to me. It was a place I had passed on a few occasions and outside of it looked modern and new. The stories I’d heard of their food and decor were nothing short of wonderful, but it was one of the many places in Chicago I knew would never happen for me. There was a lot I accepted about my life. I accepted the loneliness and I accepted the fact that I would never be able to indulge in a lot of the finer things. And I accepted that. Material possessions never did anything for me anyway. But the fact that someone wanted to take me to a place like that meant I needed a different outfit. I had nothing in my closet that was appropriate for a place like this, and it made me nervous.

  What did I wear to a place like this?

  I took the money I could spare for another outfit and went shopping. I looked at a lot of cocktail dresses, but most of them were too tight and the rest were too short. I wasn’t going out to a club. I was going out to dinner. Each one I tried on was wrong in some way. The waist was too tight or there wasn’t enough room for my chest. It was too short or the sleeves weren’t big enough to fit the upper part of my arms. It was discouraging, to say the least. I sat in more dressing rooms and cried than I ever had in my entire life.

  I had no idea what I was going to do.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  “Yes?” I asked, sniffling.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, no. I’m okay. I’m just about to finish up,” I said.

  “I know it might not be my place, but… there’s a shop across town that specializes in some clothes you might enjoy.”

  That was code for ‘the store sold fat person clothes’.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I think I’m done for the day.”

  “They’ve got the cutest dresses. I actually hate going in there myself because they don’t come down to my size. I really think you should try it out.”

  “I really appreciate it, but I think I’m done,” I said.

  I started putting my clothes back on and gathering up the dresses that weren’t right for me. I hated shopping. I was quickly being reminded of why I never did it. I slung the clothes over my arm and opened the door, and I found the shopping attendant staring at her phone. She looked up at my with this pity-filled glance and my anger began to flare. Why was she still here? Why was she determined to make my shopping experience more miserable than it already was? Couldn’t she simply leave me alone?

  “I think this dress would look stunning on you,” the woman said.

  “Like I said, thank you. But I-”

  I looked down at her phone and my eyes were hooked. On her phone was the most beautiful crimson red dress I had ever seen. It had a scooped neckline and three-quarter length sleeves that fluttered instead of clung. The cinched waistline was just underneath the breast pockets, giving the model in the picture a rounded chest without showcasing the stomach she had underneath. The crimson fabric of the dress molded lightly to her body, but didn’t cling. And it fell to her shins before breaking into a cute pair of flats.

  It was the perfect dress.

  “I’m telling you. You should really try that shop,” the woman said with a smile.

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  “It’s all the way across town. But it’s totally worth it. It says they have this dress in stock on their website. I could give them a call if you want me to. See if they can pull you one to the side?” she asked.

  “No, no. That’s fine. Just… um… what’s the address for the place?”

  Five minutes later I was in my car and headed across town. I kept my eyes peeled for the place and was lucky enough to find road parking in front of the store. It had a line out the door of women who looked like me, and a part of me was nervous. What if the dress wasn’t there by the time I could get into the store? My heart sank at the thought as I got out of my car. I went and stood in line, my hands wringing with nerves as I waited patiently to get inside. Throngs of women were coming out with bags dripping from their arms, and then it hit me.

  I didn’t think to ask how much a dress like that would’ve cost me in the first place.

  I finally got into the store and made a beeline for the dresses in the back. I rifled through them, looking for the one I saw on the website. I cased the entire place looking for it, and with each dress I passed by my heart sank a little deeper into my stomach.

  Until a woman tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “There was a woman that called from a store across town. Said you might be looking for this?” she asked.

  The woman held up the crimson red dress and I smiled.

  “The lady wasn’t sure what size you were, so I pulled a few of them aside for you to try on,” the woman said.

  “Thank you so much,” I said breathlessly. “Um… how much does this dress cost, though?”

  “We’re having a sale today, so once the price is docked at the front desk, it’ll be around eighty dollars.”

  It was a little more than I was willing to spend, which meant I wouldn’t be able to get the shoes I saw in the picture. But it was better than nothing. I smiled and took two dresses into the dressing room, trying them on and modeling them in the mirror. I couldn't believe it. I had two dresses that fit me perfectly. One was a little tighter, but showcased my chest more, and the other was a bit more comfortable, but was loose enough to where the fabric sashayed around my legs. I ended up going for the size up, because once I ate I’d feel like a balloon in the other one.

  Then I went to the counter, paid, and went home so I could change.

  It felt like preparing for my date took all day. Shopping, getting home, finding the right pair of shoes, and doing my hair and makeup took forever. Mozart was begging for attention and I was trying to keep him away from me so I wouldn't take mounds of cat hair to dinner on my dress. He was meowing and sliding through my legs, wrapping his tail around my ankles and begging for attention. I felt bad having to cast him out of my bathroom. He usually sat on the sink and watched me get ready in the mornings.

  But this was different, and I needed to be able to pay attention.

  Frustrated with my makeup, I took it all off. I couldn't get anything to look right, so I figured I was better off with none at all. I patted on some foundation, layered on the mascara, clapped my cheeks for some color, then threw on some lip-gloss. I pulled my hair back into a French twist and put on my shiniest jewelry to distract from my lack of makeup, then I grabbed my purse and headed out the door.

  “I’ll be back soon, Mozart. Promise.”

  Pulling up to Boka made my hands start to sweat. I hated that part of my body. I hated the fact that my palms would sweat whenever I was nervous. I sat in my car and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves before I went in. I was in a beautiful dress and feeling more confident than I had in years. It was time for me to start acting like it.

  I walked into the restaurant and the hostess seemed to recognize who I was. She ushered me through the restaurant and over to a table with two comfortable-looking chairs. I saw Graham sitting there, with his fiery blue gaze and his strong jawline. He ran his eyes along my form as he stood, then came around to pull my chair out for me.

  “You look incredible,” he said into my ear.

  I blushed at his words as he scooted me closer to the table.

  “I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place?” Graham asked.

  “Thanks to GPS, I don’t have trouble finding most places,” I said with a grin.

  “Technology can be a helpful thing,” he said. “And I meant what I said.”

  “About what?”

  “You look incredible tonight.”

  “Thanks. You fill out a suit quite nicely as well.”

  “Is that a new dress?” he asked.

  I felt the color drain from my face as he reached for his glass of wine.

  “I,
um. Well, I didn’t really have anything-”

  “It’s not a bad thing. I know what new clothes look like on people. It’s a stunning dress on you. I’m honored you wanted to go out and buy something new for our night out.”

  “I just… didn’t have anything to wear.”

  “My tie is new, if that makes you feel better,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh, yeah. Because that evens out the entirely new outfit I just got called out on.”

  “Why do you feel that’s a bad thing?”

  “Because it insinuates I wasn’t prepared for something like this because stuff like this never happens to me.”

  “No it doesn’t,” he said.

  “Then what does it insinuate?” I asked.

  “That you wanted to look your best and you didn’t think anything in your closet did that. Happens to all of us. I bought a suit the other day for that very purpose.”

  “Another one of your tailored numbers?”

  “No use in wearing a suit if it isn’t tailored to the man’s frame. It simply looks like window curtains if it’s off the machine.”

  “Window curtains,” I said.

  “Mhm. I’ve always been of the belief that any man, no matter what size or age, should always have two tailored suits in his closet for any occasion. He can have as many button-down shirts and ties in all the colors he wants, but the pants and the coat should be tailored to his body.”

  “Got any interesting theories on women’s clothing?” I asked.

  “Always make sure they match the carpet on the floor,” he said with a grin.

  I felt my cheeks heat up as I shook my head. I felt like I was getting a glimpse of the real Graham, but it was all very topical. Fashion and sexual innuendos and stolen glances at the table we were sitting. It was nothing like the conversations we’d had over our phones, and I tried not to seem too disappointed.

  “Something on your mind?” Graham asked.

  “I thought you said you didn’t do stuff like this,” I said.

  “Stuff like what?”

  “You know, dating. Dinners. Taking a girl out.”

  “When did I say that?” he asked.

  “In one of our conversations. You said you didn’t have time for more traditional relationships.”

  “Why does that insinuate that I don’t treat women to dinner?”

  “Isn’t that what traditional relationship encompass? Dates and wine and fine outings?” I asked.

  “Women deserve that type of treatment in general, no matter the type of relationship. I don’t have time for a full-fledged, ‘I want to be together forever’ type of relationship.”

  “So what you’re saying is you don’t have time for marriage.”

  “I don’t have time to build towards it, no. It takes a lot of trust and commitment, and I’m not afforded the kind of time necessary to get to that point.”

  “You don’t want love? Or children? Or a life with someone?” I asked.

  I watched his gaze harden on me before he cleared his throat. He was hiding something. It was obvious now. I wasn’t sure what and I didn’t know why he insisted on keeping me at arm’s length, but I wasn’t having it. He seemed more open in our electronic conversations than he did now. His gaze was hiding behind walls of cement and he was tight-lipped on the privacies of his life. I didn’t want to know his life story, but I did want to know about him.

  I didn’t buy a new dress and make myself sick with nerves to cross town and talk about clothes on people’s floors.

  “I’m sorry. That was very forward,” I said.

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Graham said. “You seem to wonder what I’m looking for, so I’m going to throw the question back at you. What are you looking for in all of this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I just know I’m not happy with where I’m at.”

  “You can’t fix something until you determine what’s broken about it,” he said.

  “You always can’t walk away from it simply because you don’t know why it’s broken. Sometimes studying it and trying a few things reveals the issue. Then you can go about fixing it.”

  “Eloquently said, Libby. Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Experimenting until you find what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t… really know,” I said. “Is that bad?”

  “No. Some of life’s best things are born out of moments we enjoy instead of analyze.”

  “Do you make people feel like this a lot?”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Like you’re maneuvering into their shadows to reveal their secrets before they get the chance to do it themselves?” I asked.

  “He has that kind of effect, yes.”

  The strange voice that came from behind me caused Graham to whip his gaze up. I looked behind me and found a woman standing there, her eyes hard with anger. She walked around to Graham and I watched him brace. It was obvious he knew the woman, but what relationship they had I couldn't tell. They didn’t look anything alike, so they weren’t siblings.

  Was it possible she was an ex of his?

  “You can’t keep me away,” the woman said.

  “This is not the time nor the place to be discussing something like this,” Graham said as he looked at me.

  “Why? Because you’re schmoozing some poor woman?” she asked. “Don’t fall for his tricks. He’ll take everything you have and run for the hills.”

  “That’s enough, Gloria,” Graham said.

  “So you know this woman?” I asked.

  “Know?” Gloria asked. “Does he know me? Have you really not told her anything?”

  “Told me what?” I asked.

  “Gloria. Go home. You’re drunk, again. You shouldn't be out in-”

  “I took a damn cab, Graham! And you don’t get to run my life. Not anymore. I want to see what’s rightfully mine, and I want to see them now.”

  “You aren’t seeing anything or going anywhere without my explicit permission,” Graham said.

  “You can’t keep them from me, you fucker. I love them just like I loved you, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to paint me to be the woman you think I am! Just because you have money and some dumbass mansion doesn’t mean you’re better than me. I’m coming for you, Graham. I’m coming for them, whether you want me to or not.”

  “So long as I am breathing, Gloria, you will not lay a hand on anything that is mine,” Graham said.

  I watched the altercation continue as a manager began to approach the situation. He tried to get the woman to calm down, but it was useless. I watched the woman pick up Graham’s glass of wine and toss it into his face, drenching his suit and staining his crisp white shirt red. I threw my chair back and gathered my things, trying to keep my tears at bay as I stepped away from the table.

  “Libby. Wait. Just… damn it, Gloria. Get the hell out of here. Libby! Hold on!”

  I ran as quickly as my legs would carry me from the restaurant. I dashed for my car, feeling the tears spilling down my cheek. I ripped my car door open and slammed myself into it, my stomach growling with hunger.

  Food.

  We didn’t even get to the food before everything had exploded.

  I pulled out of the parking space as I saw Graham come out of the restaurant. His long, strong legs were carrying him as fast as he could go. I watched him recede in my rearview mirror as I skidded out onto the road, booking it back to my apartment. My vision was clouding with tears and I knew I couldn't drive home like this. I’d never get back without crashing into something or running myself into someone.

  So I pulled into the nearest fast food joint, parked my car, and sobbed.

  Ten

  Graham

  I watched Libby drive away erratically and my heart tightened with panic. She was in no position to drive, and yet I was watching her drive away. Cars were honking and she was swerving, and part of me wanted to get in my car and tak
e off after her.

  But I felt Gloria’s hand come down onto my wrist.

  “Get the hell away from me,” I said. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Telling you what I should’ve told you a long time ago. You ruined my life, Graham. You interjected yourself into my world, turned it upside down, then expected me to follow your every whim. But you’re not taking the best things that have ever happened to me. It’s not happening. Not now. Not ever. I don’t care what a damn court of law says!”

  “You’re drunk,” I said. “Go home. This is why the restraining order’s in place. And if you don’t get the hell out of here, I’m calling the cops and having you arrested.”

  “You haven’t heard the last of me, Graham! I love them!”

  “Then prove to them you do by getting sober, Gloria. Until then, should you ever come near me, my home, or anywhere I might be again, I’ll have you arrested and thrown in jail on the spot. Leave us alone,” I said.

  I stormed back into the restaurant and paid the measly tab for the wine. I left the waiter a decent tip, then headed straight for my car. Gloria was stumbling around in the parking lot like the drunken idiot she was, and part of me wanted to leave her there. Part of me wanted to sit back and watch the restaurant call the cops on her for making an ass out of herself

  But I couldn't do that to her.

  Even though I would’ve had every right to.

  I got in my car and called a cab. I watched as it pulled up, then a man got out and helped her into the back. I watched them drive off before I cranked up my car, then followed them to make sure Gloria got home safely. I watched as she stumbled into the apartment she called a home, and before she shut the door I watched her pick something up from the floor.

  It was an empty wine bottle, and the last image I had of her was her tipping the glass up to her lips.

  Sighing and shaking my head, I pulled away to try and find Libby. I traced the street she had raced down and took the first left her car had swerved down. But beyond that, I had nowhere else to look. The only thing I knew was that she lived on the south side of Chicago, but it would’ve taken me all night to scour half the damn place. Fuck. How the hell did Gloria find me at that place? What the hell had she been thinking?