by Blake Wilder
She shook her head before I got the whole invitation out. “I can’t. That’s not a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea. We have a good time together. We talk and laugh and you have to admit, that sex was off-the-charts.”
Hope looked sad, which had me questioning what was behind her rejection even more. Why would she end something that worked if she didn’t want to?
“I can’t do that, Jake. George is already too attached to you. It’s not right to give him false expectations about us, about what the future holds. If it was just me, maybe…”
She didn’t finish that thought and I realized even if there was no George, she would walk away from me.
“I’m crazy about George. I would never hurt him.”
“Then all of this should be easy. We go on from here as…just friends.”
There was no denying she didn’t really mean that. After all, the cold shoulder I’d been getting confirmed it.
“But we should limit our interactions to”—Hope lifted her arms, gesturing around us—“here. You’ll be his coach out on the field. No more dinners. No more playing catch. Those things will just confuse him.”
“No.” I hated everything she said. “That isn’t enough for me.”
“I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal of this. I thought this would make you happy. You’re not looking for a relationship, so there’s no reason to draw this out. I’m giving you a clean break. No tears, no pleading, no fighting.”
“You think this is what I want?”
“I’m not doing this again.” Her voice was strong, sure. Whatever was driving her to break things off with me, it was powerful enough to fuel her resolve.
“Doing what again?” I asked, leaning closer, desperation clawing at me. How could she walk away from what we shared? “Coming apart at the seams for me when I drive my fingers or my tongue inside you. Fighting against the cuffs binding you to my bed while I bring you to orgasm over and over. Screaming my name as I pound inside that tight, hot pussy of yours.”
She closed her eyes, and for a second, I thought there might be tears forming there. “Stop,” she whispered.
“No. I’m not going to stop. This isn’t over.”
When she opened her eyes again, piercing me with her gaze, they were dry. And I knew I’d lost the war.
“Yes. It is.”
She started to walk away from me. There was only one last thing to say, one last card to play.
“What about me?”
Hope stopped and turned back. “What?”
“You said you wanted to start dating in hopes of finding someone to marry, someone to be a father to George. What about me?”
She froze for just a second. And then she laughed.
The sound cut through me as she walked away.
This time I let her go.
And that was it. Just like that.
My heart shattered.
Nine
Hope
I lay on the couch and stared at the television. George was watching his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine video, while I maintained the same zombie-like demeanor I’d acquired since walking away from Jake at the ballfield.
I’d laughed.
That was the one thing I couldn’t let go of.
The days prior to that practice, I’d resisted the urge to respond to his texts, angry and hurt that he’d slept with me, made me think I was special, only to find out that he had a date planned with Lauren.
The front door opened. It was probably Ada. She’d been my saving grace, taking George to practice this afternoon so I didn’t have to face Jake again, then running out to grab us all a pizza for dinner.
“Here we go,” she said, walking into the living room. “A large pepperoni.” She glanced around the room and sighed. “Wow. Neither one of you has moved since I left.”
Until she pointed it out, I hadn’t noticed George had acquired my sullen mood. He was lying on the floor, his head resting on an oversized pillow, sucking his thumb.
He hadn’t done that in nearly a year. And it had been a hard habit to get him to break. I’d noticed in the last year or so, he only did it when he was over-tired, scared, or sad.
I forced myself to sit up and plastered on a smile. I couldn’t keep feeling sorry for myself in front of him.
“Hey, Georgie,” I called out. “Why don’t you come sit next to me on the couch?”
He perked up. “We’re going to eat in here? In front of the TV?”
I nodded. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been allowed to eat dinner in the living room and I’d felt the same excitement George did at the moment.
He bounced up from the floor and I placed a slice of pizza on one of the paper plates Ada had carried in.
“Be very careful,” I cautioned. “It’s greasy and we don’t want to get it on the couch.”
“I will,” he said, dropping from the couch to his knees, his plate resting on the coffee table. His attention returned to the movie as I poked a straw into his juice box. I was relieved he appeared happier than he had a few moments earlier.
“I got something for us too,” Ada said, jerking her head toward the kitchen. “Bottle of wine. It’s chilling in the fridge. After the munchkin goes to bed, we’re having a slumber party.”
I smiled appreciatively. “Thanks. That sounds perfect.”
It really did. I’d had trouble sleeping the past few nights, guilt suffusing me as I played that damn conversation after practice over and over.
I’d actually decided we weren’t going to practice on Tuesday, my anger over the text and being made a fool of was off-the-charts. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to stay in the bleachers rather than storm out on the field and give Jake Garrett a piece of my mind. Screw that stupid Big Hose nickname. I’d dubbed him Big Dick and it had nothing to do with what was hanging between his legs.
Unfortunately, George wouldn’t budge on skipping it. He’d whined, pleaded, and then, in the end, cried. My son’s tears were my undoing. So…we’d gone to practice. By the time the eternal thing had ended, I’d actually been pretty proud of myself. I’d only snuck about two thousand peeks at Jake and only ninety-nine percent of those had made me horny.
I had foolishly thought I’d get off easy. That George and I could leave and I’d spend a few days regrouping before I had to go back again.
Then I’d seen Jake talking to Lauren and my temper spiked.
Even that would have been okay, but Big Dick followed me to my car. I couldn’t believe his lack of self-preservation. There must have been steam coming out of my ears, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Mommy,” George said, once he’d finished his first piece of pizza. “Can Jake come over tomorrow to play catch?”
I glanced at Ada, who gave me a sympathetic smile.
I shook my head. “No. Not tomorrow, George.”
“What about Monday? We could have sgetti again.”
“Spaghetti,” I corrected. “And I’m pretty sure he has to work at the fire station.” I had no idea if that was true and I hated lying to my son, but right now, it seemed like the easiest way. All I could do was hope George would stop asking at some point. Though with Jake still coaching the tee-ball team, I suspected that wouldn’t happen soon.
George wilted a bit, then started watching the movie once more.
I made a mental note to see about setting up a playdate with one of the kids in my class or with Scott. He and George had become fast friends, which opened another can of worms considering he was Jake’s little brother. Jake seemed to do a lot with the boy. What happened if I set something up and Jake was the one to drop him off or pick him up?
I wasn’t ready to face him. For three days, I’d done nothing but drive to and from work, and hide in my house all night. I was low on gas—again—and the refrigerator was bare. Problem was I didn’t dare risk a trip to the gas station or grocery store, lest I run into Jake.
Not because I was
angry.
All that heat and hurt went away the second I’d laughed.
I have no idea why my anxiety had come out that way.
I’d struggled through the entire conversation because, once again, I couldn’t make Jake into Big Hose, the local playboy, who’d cut a swath through all the single ladies in town. He had seemed…sincere and sad. And the only thing that kept me going, that allowed me to fight back was the memory of those texts from Lauren, and the way she’d thanked him for that date right in front of me.
He was sleeping with Lauren, a woman I’d taken to calling my arch enemy. Her backbiting and shitty comments about my wardrobe and my good girl ways at work had grown to outright bullying. The woman genuinely hated me. Which was fine because I wasn’t too fond of her either.
So when he’d looked at me and asked why I wasn’t considering him for the position of husband and father, I’d laughed—out of anger and nervousness and downright agony. It was that or sob, and I wasn’t giving him the benefit of my tears.
I hadn’t cried in front of Alan and I’d be damned if I did it in front of Jake. I didn’t care if that made me prideful or bitchy. For me, it meant holding on to the last shred of dignity I had left.
The second I did it though, the moment that horrible sound came out, and I saw his face, I knew I’d just hurt him worse than he had hurt me.
I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. And the guilt had eaten me alive ever since.
After dinner, Ada insisted on watching Frozen. George pretended to be annoyed by the selection. Lately, he’d been very sensitive to what he considered boy things and girl things. It drove me crazy because I hated distinctions like that. I’m sure he was picking it up from the other kids in school. Or perhaps it was driven by his deep-seated desire for a father. He was trying to figure out what it meant to be a man and with only a mom to show him, he was struggling.
Of course, when I’d mentioned those theories to Ada at work yesterday, she’d given me hell for overthinking it, claiming George was a normal, rough-and-tumble five-year-old boy and I should lay off the armchair psychology before I fucked him up.
Given my tendency to overanalyze everything in my life, I decided it was another reason why Ada was the perfect best friend for me. She was practical and easygoing and not prone to drama. Whenever I got worked up about anything at school, she only had to give me that “seriously…chill out” look and I felt instantly calm.
Unfortunately, her calm reassurances that I hadn’t been overly cruel to Jake weren’t helping to alleviate my guilt. Ada had the benefit of a long history with Jake, and because of it, she seemed certain that the only thing I’d hurt had been his ego because he was always the first to walk away.
No matter how many times she said it, I couldn’t make those facts fit with his face on Tuesday.
Frozen had been the perfect movie choice, especially when paired with a delicious red blend. George giggled as Ada and I belted out “Let it Go” at the top of our lungs, and by the end of the movie, I was feeling relaxed—okay, buzzed—and better.
Ada helped me put George to bed and then the two of us returned to the couch. Rather than put on another movie, we opted for listening to music, taking turns selecting the songs. Ada’s choices were upbeat numbers, like “Dancing Queen” and Missy Elliott’s “Work It.”
When it was my turn, I forced her to endure my current favorite, “Burning House.”
“Jesus,” she muttered. “What is this shit?”
“What?” I asked aghast. “I love this song.”
Ada rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you do. It’s practically the anthem for brokenhearted women who’ve just been cheated on by faithless firefighters.”
I sobered up when I considered her words. “Brokenhearted?”
“You liked Jake. And more than as a one-night hookup.”
“But I knew going in…”
“Knowing doesn’t have a damn thing to do with feeling. It’s why you’re lying around this house listening to sad country songs, drinking wine with your girlfriend and feeding your kid pizza in the living room.”
“I swore after Alan I’d be smarter about men.”
“I shouldn’t have convinced you to sleep with Jake. I feel bad about that. You were obviously hurt by Alan because he only wanted one thing from you. Encouraging you to use Jake the same way wasn’t a great idea. Mainly because it’s not in you to use someone that way. Sex and emotions go hand in hand in your world.”
Ada liked to pretend she was tough as nails, but I knew she was pure marshmallow inside. “It’s the same in your world too, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately. Hence the long painful dry spell. I’m going to have to move to a bigger town. I’ve seen what Bootlick has to offer and I’m not impressed.”
“You’ll never leave this town.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “What was the name of that vibrator you ordered?”
I groaned. “You mean the vibrator I no longer have.”
“I can’t believe you left it at Jake’s.”
I couldn’t either. Mainly because Jake had definitely shaken something loose inside me. Depression meant a lack of sleep and a lack of sleep meant I had too much time to remember that night in his bed. I’d rolled over more than a few times, intent on grabbing the vibrator.
“I’m so fucked up right now, Ada.”
“I know. Here. Elixir of the gods. Guaranteed to cure all that ails you…for tonight.” She topped up my glass and we talked, drank, sang loud and off-key and even danced until that bottle of wine—and another—were gone. Finally, around two, we fell into my queen-sized bed together, fully dressed and passed out, giggling.
When I opened my eyes again, it was only a little past seven on Sunday. I was surprised to find Ada awake as well.
“I’ve got an internal mom alarm clock,” I said, my voice hoarse from laughing and singing until the wee hours. “Thought you’d sleep longer.”
Ada shrugged one shoulder casually. “I can’t make the pieces fit.”
“What?”
“Lauren has pursued Jake for years and he’s never taken the bait. So why now?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I’d only seen Jake and Lauren together a couple of times and they seemed friendly enough. And there was nothing in that text thread I’d read that made me believe her flirty, sexual innuendos were unwanted. He’d told her to behave, but he’d said the same thing to me. It was playful banter.
“I don’t know why,” I said at last.
“I think you should ask him about her.”
I shook my head, thinking back to Jessica’s face when I went to Alan’s room. I’d been mortified and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough for that kind of rejection again.
“Hear me out,” Ada continued. “There’s a chance this is all a big misunderstanding. I don’t think you’d be feeling this guilty over that conversation on Tuesday if you hadn’t sensed that there was something real between you and Jake.”
“Ada, I have zero experience when it comes to reading guys and their feelings.”
“Which is why you should pursue this. Consider it furthering your education. Go to Jake’s and ask him about the text. About Lauren. Call him out for it. Get to the bottom of it and then figure out where to go from there.”
It was actually pretty sound advice. I’d spent too much of the last few days confused by Jake’s comments…and his face when I laughed.
What if it had been a mistake? What if I’d been a blind idiot, casting Jake in the role of Alan because of past hurts and too much pride? Had I seen something that wasn’t there and pushed him away before he could hurt me the same way Alan had?
What about me, he’d said. It was those three words that haunted me the most.
“Ada?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you stick around a little while? I’m going to Jake’s.”
Her big grin gave me the strength I needed to sit up. The hangover, however, almost sen
t me back down.
“Keep going,” she said encouragingly. “You’re doing the right thing.”
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and hair, pulling it back in a braid because that was the only thing that could tame the wild mass at the moment, and then I swiped on some mascara and lipstick. Looking at my reflection, I realized I’d be smarter to have this conversation after a shower, fresh clothes, and more than minimal effort on my part in terms of hair and makeup, but I was too impatient to see him, to talk to him.
I missed Jake.
I glanced back in the bedroom. Ada hadn’t stirred. “You probably have about twenty minutes more before George wakes up and starts looking for breakfast. There’s just enough cereal and milk left for the two of you.”
Regardless of what happened with Jake, I was going to have to break down and hit the grocery store today.
“Go get ’em, tiger!” Ada cheered me on, still lazing in the bed. I was pretty sure she’d be asleep again three minutes after I left.
As I drove to the fire station, I practiced what I planned to say. Funny how I’d done the exact same thing just a week earlier, except that time I was trying to figure out how to get him to sleep with me.
This time…I was hoping to convince him to date me.
Last week’s request seemed simple in comparison.
I pulled up at the fire station and glanced at the clock in the dashboard. Seven thirty was way too early for a social visit, but if I put this off, there was a good chance, I’d chicken out completely.
After parallel parking, I got out and crossed the street. I was nearly to the fire station door when Lauren walked out.
Her short skirt and blouse were wrinkled, her hair mussed up, and there was a thick layer of mascara under her eyes. She was a little wobbly on her heels. She was clearly dressed for the bar…last night.
If there was a picture in the dictionary for Walk of Shame, it would have been of Lauren right now.
She saw me the exact same moment I saw her. I pulled up short as she approached me.
“You’re too late, Hopeless.”