Forever With You

by Beverley Kendall

  Talk about being caught flatfooted. Until that moment, I’d had no idea she’d spoken to Emily. Lee hadn’t mentioned it when she’d found me to tell me she’d meet me at my flat. Yes, her departure had been sudden but I’d blamed it on her discovering that Emily and I were coworkers. Emily certainly hadn’t said anything about it to me before she left. Although, that does explain the venomous look she’d shot me on her way out. I mistakenly thought it was a trick of the light.

  Look, Lee, I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you. The truth is dating her was a huge mistake and I wish to God I’d never become involved with her. When I broke it off, she wouldn’t leave me alone but I never said she stalked me.

  That hadn’t been the right thing to say. Liane had let me have it.

  You lied to me about your ex-girlfriend and now you’re working with her. How the fuck do you expect me to feel? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you’re only coworkers? That it’s just a huge coincidence that you ended up working at the same bar?

  No matter what I said, no matter how many times I told her I was sorry for lying to her, she refused to believe me. We’d eventually reached an impasse. Since it’d been too late for her to drive home, I’d offered her my bed, telling her I’d sleep on the couch. She’d stubbornly declined. I’d awoken two hours later, just in time to see her quietly carrying her overnight bag to the door. Sneaking out, in other words.

  I need to think. I’ll give you a call after I do.

  And that’s how things had been left between us.

  As I said, my night sucked.

  “Shit.” Blake runs his hand briskly through his hair and grimaces at me sympathetically. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I guess she accused Emily of stalking me and then Emily told her that we dated.”

  “Ouch. Not exactly the way you wanted her to find out.”

  “Are you kidding? I didn’t want her to find out at all.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That I didn’t get her a job there. That I’m not interested in her. That nothing’s going on between us. But she’s not going to let it go because Emily is younger.”

  “That and she’s gorgeous.” His breaths now come in ragged puffs.

  I shoot him a sideway glance, my eyes narrowing. He tosses them out as if they’re throw away words. As if their meaning is mundane and has no impact or weight. I feel it—the weight of his words.

  “What?” Why are you looking at me like I’m nuts? “She is. Or am I not allowed to state the obvious? I’ve seen some pics and unless she’s changed a lot in four years, the girl is gorgeous. Believe me, I get why Liane is feeling a little insecure these days.”

  A part of me—the logical part—understands he’s being purely objective about her looks. But hearing him say it—as he said, state the obvious—doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want him to find anything attractive about her because of what she did or… No, that must be it. It’s the only explanation.

  “I don’t. Liane’s beautiful. She’s smart. She has a career, her own place and her own car. Emily may be pretty and younger, but you’re talking as though Liane’s one step away from a senior discount. Thirty-one is still pretty young.”

  “Gray, your ex is like twenty and your girlfriend is over ten years older. It doesn’t matter that she’s technically still considered young. The point is Emily is younger. Much younger. And she was a model. I don’t care if it was years ago, she was a fucking model.”

  “Yeah but Liane doesn’t know that.” And I hope to God she never does. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

  “Hey, I’m just saying.”

  We slow as the road begins to incline. Approximately another kilometer down this tree-lined street until we reach the school. Dried leaves litter the sidewalk and crunch beneath our feet as we maintain a steady pace.

  “So she spends the night and leaves, just like that, this morning?”

  “She slept on the couch.” If he’s thinking that there was any sex, I’m quick to disabuse him of the fact.

  “Christ. That sucks. Sounds like you had one crappy ass night.”

  “No shit.” Beads of sweat now have my hair plastered to my forehead, but since I’m not pushing myself, I’m good.

  He shoots me a glance. “You think she’s going to break up with you?”

  I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead and dodge the large crack in the sidewalk. “Who the fuck knows.”

  On an amused snort, Blake asks, “Do you care?”

  “I like her a lot but if she wants to call it quits, you won’t see me crying into my beer.” We don’t live in the same zip code, and don’t see each other a ton. But casual is good for me right now. No pressure. No drama. That’s how I like my life, drama-free and I’m fighting to keep it that way.

  Fucking Emily.

  Bloody hell, that’s what got me into this mess in the first place, I think with more than a touch of dramatic irony.

  “Damn right. No woman’s worth it. If she wants to go, I say adios.”

  There’s a hardness to his voice that has me sending him a look. “You sound bitter. What, did one of your women cut you loose?” I’m only half teasing because something does have him irked.

  For a reason I can’t fathom, he lengthens his stride, picking up the pace and forcing me to do the same. “For crissakes, slow the fuck down. What’s the rush?”

  We continue on, feet pounding the concrete, our strides and form in sync. It seems I’ve hit a nerve. Just as my breathing is starting to labor, Blake slows and I immediately follow his lead again.

  After catching my breath, I remark sarcastically, “I thought we were going for a jog not practicing for the one-hundred-meter sprint.”

  He makes a sound in his throat.

  “Get it out of your system? She must have done a number on you. What’d she do, break your heart?” Like fishing, I’m throwing out questions in hopes one of them gets him to take the bait. I’ve never met any of the women Blake’s hooked up with. I don’t think he’s even brought one over when I’ve gone away for the weekend.

  “In order to break my heart, I have to have one.”

  I huff a laugh. “Is that what she said?”

  Breathing hard, he slows to a stop, bending at the waist as he catches his breath. I stand watching him, using the back of my hand to wipe the sweat off my forehead and stop it from dripping into my eyes.

  After a couple seconds, he straightens. “No, that’s what I told her.”

  So, there is a specific her. Interesting. And it’s clear she’s gotten under his skin.

  “So, who is she?”

  My mutual silent consent, we begin to walk instead of jog around the empty high school. With this much talking, a break is in order.

  “Actually, it’s not her. It’s her damn friend. She doesn’t like me but believe me, the feeling is mutual. The chick’s a pain in the ass. Angie won’t admit it, but I know it’s Madison who’s feeding her all this shit about me. You know, that I’m a player and I’ll only ending up breaking her heart.”

  I let out another laugh. “But isn’t it true? Isn’t that how all your relationships end?” When it comes to marriage, Blake has his life mapped out. He says he’s not getting married until his thirties. He thinks one’s twenties should be reserved for fucking around. What woman in her right mind is going to stick around anywhere from five to ten years waiting for a man to commit? Not many.

  “I’ve been seeing her for a month. One month. I’m twenty-five. She’s the same age. What’s the damn rush? Can’t we just enjoy dating each other without her obsessing over where this is going? Does it have to go anywhere beyond that?”

  “Of course not,” I reply, in full agreement. Marriage isn’t a thought that crosses my mind. Like Blake, I’m not thinking long term. I still have school to finish and after that, finding a job in my career. And who knows, I may even go back to England to live. So much is up in the air right now s
o I completely get where he’s coming from.

  “What’s the deal with you and her friend? Why doesn’t she like you? The real reason.” I’m not buying that after a month, the friend is that concerned about him breaking her friend’s heart. Sounds a bit over the top.

  Blake shakes his head as if the answer isn’t worth voicing.

  Dried leaves crunch beneath our feet as we start down the dirt path that runs parallel to the track in the rear of the school. Two lone cars sit in the largely empty parking lot.

  “What is she, jealous? A guy knows whether a girl is into him or not. Is she giving off those vibes?” I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what it is. Blake is a decent looking guy, he’s educated and he’s got money. For as long as I’ve known him, attracting women has never been a problem.

  He heaves a sigh and looks at me. “The thing is—”

  His tone is ominous. I don’t have a good feeling about this.

  “—I met her before I hooked up with Angie.”

  Yeah, not good. I’m pretty sure I know where this is going. “Did you hit on her?”

  “Well, sorta.” He averts his gaze. Definitely the actions of a guilty man.

  “Hell, either you did or you didn’t. It’s that simple.”

  Exhaling, he runs a hand through his damp hair. “I might have had sex with her.”

  At his stunning confession, I practically screech to halt. “Holy fuck!”

  He advances another step before he stops and turns back to me. His face is flushed a ruddy color but I can’t tell if that’s from the run or embarrassment. It’s probably a bit of both.

  “What?” he asks, taking a defensive posture, one hand on his hip, a frown furrowing his brow. “I didn’t even know Angie then, and it wasn’t as though I was dating anyone exclusively.”

  “I know that, you fuckwit. But you sleep with the girl and then you date her friend? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t make me have to start calling you shit for brains.” He says he doesn’t like drama and then he auditions for the starring role in a fucking reality show.

  We resume walking.

  “It wasn’t like that,” he protests, scowling. “I met Madison. We hit it off. I took her to a hotel and we had sex. The next day, I took her number and told her I’d call.”

  “Did you call or was that just a line?”

  “I meant it. You know I don’t string women along.” He sounds offended that I asked.

  “So what happened?”

  “I lost her number.”

  “Jesus Christ, are you shitting me? Why didn’t you put her number in your phone?” He has to be. I mean in this day and age, who does that?

  “It died, and I only had the charger in my car.”

  This sounds like an SNL skit. “Then why didn’t you give her your number?”

  “First of all,” he starts off, his tone scolding, “she didn’t ask for it. Second, you know how I feel about that. The last thing I need is a woman blowing up my phone before we’ve even been out on our first date. Plus, I had her number. How the hell did I know I was going to lose it?”

  “Okay, okay.” Calm down. “So you lost her number. What’d you do after that, give up?”

  The look he sends me is one of utter disbelief. “What’d you expect me to do? Scour all of New York for her? I had nothing. Not her last name or her address. Anyway, a couple weeks later I met Angie and we started going out.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh then. And I thought I had problems. This is pure gold. “When did you find out your one-night stand was friends with your new girl?”

  “Two weeks ago. Double date. Madison just started dating some guy and she needed a buffer in case things went south.”

  I double over laughing, imagining the scene.

  Blake gives me a shove that sends me teetering off balance. I stumble back before I catch myself and find my feet. Still chuckling, I straighten and step out of his extended arm range. “Don’t mind me. I just keep picturing it in my mind. Tell me, who was more horrified to see who, you or her?”

  “You know, you’re an ass. Do I laugh at any of the shit you’re going through?” But my friend doesn’t look all that pained. In fact, the barest hint of a smile ghosts his mouth. “Let’s just say dinner was awkward as hell.”

  “No shit,” I reply dryly.

  “Does Angie know about—” Pause “—what happened?”

  “Fuck no.” He’s vehement about that.

  “And you’re not going to tell her?” I have a feeling this is going to end badly for him.

  He instantly counters with, “Are you going to tell Liane the truth about Emily? How old she was when you dated her?”

  “Alright then. I see your point. You’re not seeing her anymore anyway, so what does it matter, am I right?”

  “Yeah, we’re done.”

  Blake had a girlfriend in college, Kim. He dated her for maybe a year. From what I can remember, it hadn’t taken him long after their break up to start dating again. He’d shrugged when I asked about not seeing her around anymore. Things didn’t work out. We weren’t looking for the same thing. That had been it. I never sensed he’d been upset about the break up.

  He breaks up with this girl, whom he’s been seeing for a month, and he looks like he’s lost his dog? She must have been something else.

  “Hey, maybe this is a sign for you,” he says.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah you. Tell Liane about Emily or say adios. You’re dating one and working with the other. That right there, my friend, is a recipe for disaster. You’re trying to stop the two worlds from colliding, but gravity says it’s inevitable.”

  I give a huff and start walking. “Quit it with the fucking metaphors. I get it, you minored in English. Shakespeare would be proud. Now are we running, or what?”

  I take off jogging, assuming a much faster pace. Blake easily catches up with me, and I can hear him snickering.

  “I’m just giving you some friendly advice. Ignore it at your peril.” His tone is facetiously foreboding, the inflection in his voice the same adopted when telling ghost stories.

  To that I give my standard reply, “I’ll take it under advisement.” But inside I’m saying no way, no how, never. No one but Blake and Emily know the whole truth. I know he’s not going to tell anyone and I’ll bet my inheritance that neither will Emily. She knows better.

  Or she damn well should.

  Chapter 16

  I’m a stalker now. That’s how he sees me. No, he doesn’t just see me that way, that’s what he told his girlfriend. Both are pretty bad, but the latter is worse. Not that her opinion of me matters. It doesn’t. No, it’s that he shared it with her. The thought of them sitting around talking crap about me…

  Gah! I just can’t.

  I’m not sure how I held it together until the end of my shift. Burning hot anger had gotten me through most of it. But since my job requires me to smile and be pleasant even when the desire to break something is overwhelming, I’d held my anger in check until it had waned, only to be replaced by hurt. The pain of that had made my skin feel like gossamer, the slightest touch equipped with the power to wreak havoc on me—inside and out. After we’d closed, I’d taken Claire up on the offer to count the till and without saying a word to Graham, had booked it out of there as early as I could.

  The next morning, I hadn’t said anything about it to April. It had been Labor Day, and she deserved a break from having to listen to me moan about Graham. I’d made a concerted effort to banish him from my thoughts and spent the day with the gang—three couples and me. It’s a good thing I’ve gotten used to being the fifth wheel, although that’s not the way they treat me. My friends make sure to make me feel very much included. Half the time, things split along gender lines anyway, us doing our thing and the guys doing theirs, which is usually sports related.

  We spent the day at Saginaw Beach and had a fantastic time due to the fact I barely thought about work. Yes, that’s how I’ve categorized him.
Better to parcel him off in my brain as a work-related issue. Deadens the impact.

  Today is the first day of classes and so far I’ve concluded that Strategic Marketing is going to be one bitch of a class. The workload is literally an entire single-spaced page of coursework. My professor must be into torture on a grand scale.

  My final class of the day is Digital Marketing in the technology building—a modern-looking, three-story structure on the north end of the quad. It should take me minutes to get there from the communications building where I just had my last class.

  “Emily, right?”

  My head swivels to the left, and I’m eye-to-eye with a guy with hair and eyes almost the exact color brown. I remember the face but not the name. He’d been in one of my classes, but which one escapes me.

  I smile. “Good memory.”

  “You’re easy to remember,” he says, his smile flirtatious and easygoing. “Calvin Marks. We were in English Lit class together last semester.”

  Ah, that’s right, English Lit. He’d sat in the back with the jocks.

  “Nice to officially meet you, Calvin.”

  “Cal. My friends call me Cal. But if you’d rather call me Calvin, that’s fine with me too.”

  I bite back a laugh. “Are you saying you don’t want to be friends?” I tease even as I wonder what’s come over me. I don’t flirt. At least not anymore.

  “I’m game for whatever you want.” His gaze makes a quick tour up and down me.

  My light-blue jeans are snug, my emerald sweater is thin and fitted and my brown ankle boots are two inches high. My entire outfit was purchased a week ago and a welcome upgrade to what I normally wear to school. This is me turning over a new leaf. And no, it has nothing to do with Graham being enrolled here.

  “Then Cal it is, since I hope we’re going to be friends.”

  The look he gives me says he wants to be more. “I’ll settle with friends for now.”

  I resist the urge to tell him I’m not looking for a boyfriend. It’s what I would have done only a month ago, back when I hadn’t minded being alone. Now I’m not going to immediately reject all prospects. It’s time for me to start giving guys a chance.