Mister Romance

by Amelia Simone

  My eyes widened. Suddenly the book made sense. I looked back up into his handsome face. “Oh. Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He shifted from foot to foot, then he shoved the book toward me. “Here. This is an early copy of Chase’s book. I’m hoping you’ll read it. He misses you. Can’t stop thinking of you. Won’t stop talking about you. He’s been making a lot of changes.” His expression was meaningful. “Changes for you.”

  I held up my hands, unwilling to take anything. “Did he send you with this?”

  I hadn’t heard from Chase in weeks and thought he’d finally gotten the message that I didn’t want anything to do with him. My pulse raced to realize he hadn’t forgotten me, but was actively thinking about me, even when I had ignored him.

  Jimmy shook his head. “No. He doesn’t know I’m here. I think you should read it. I can tell he’s truly sorry. It’s forced him to transform his life. I’ve gotten my friend back.”

  “Oh?” Hope bloomed in my chest. Jimmy seemed sincere. And grateful.

  “Chase is living more in the moment. He’s started clocking his hours and setting alarms for things he needs to remember. He’s less a lost little boy and more of a responsible grown up.”

  “Okay?”

  Gladness. That feeling floating inside me, I put a name to it. I was glad for Chase. But those changes didn’t necessarily have anything to do with me. Not if he hadn’t reached out himself. Then again, it was me who had put a stop to his overtures.

  Jimmy continued, “It’s all for you. I mean, not that you’re in the picture anymore, but he changed for you. He’s trying to prove he can do better. Be better. For you.” With that, he looked deep into my eyes, his chocolate brown ones pleading.

  Jimmy was a great friend, but he couldn’t proxy for Chase. What was he waiting for? For me to forgive Chase because he asked nicely? Groveling aside, he wasn’t Chase.

  “You’re welcome?”

  He blew out a sigh. “Anyway, I wanted you to know. I hope you’ll read the book. You’ve been a good influence on his life; I can only imagine what he’d accomplish with you in it more permanently.”

  Gina couldn’t keep silent anymore. “Look, Jimmy, is it? Tamra and I need to wrap up our shift. I’m glad you care enough about your friend to try to help him, but why isn’t he here himself if he’s such a changed man?”

  Jimmy huffed. “Your girl there blocked him.” He shrugged. “I may have also told him it would be stalking if he showed up at her work after she asked him to leave her alone.”

  “And you’re here why?” she asked pointedly.

  “Because I believe in love?” he answered with a lilt in his voice.

  It was Gina’s turn to glance at me sideways, like “are you believing this?” The sad thing is I wanted to. I missed Chase.

  “If nothing else, I want to say thank you for being the reason he decided to change. Goodnight, ladies. Thanks for letting me say my piece.”

  He slid the book on my desk and sauntered down the hall. Even Gina watched him walk away. You’d have to be dead not to notice how he filled out his uniform. He had Captain America’s ass.

  I glanced down at my desk. The Wedding Date by Virginia Rothman. The title mocked me from the cover. Our wedding date was the source of my best and worst moments in recent memory. I shook my head, but Gina picked it up and tucked it in my bag. I raised my brows.

  “You’ll thank me later.”

  That night as I dug for my house keys, my fingers scraped along the book in my bag. Was I going to read it? Almost certainly. Curiosity burned through me. I made myself a quick grilled cheese, then settled in on my couch with the advance copy and a cup of tea.

  I flipped through the book until I hit the dedication.

  “To T: Thanks for inspiring me and helping me become the best version of myself. I couldn’t have done it without you, and honestly, I don’t want to. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

  My heart softened; the inscription was clearly for me. I’d never imagined a book dedication from him. Chase had helped me become the best version of myself too. Maybe he wasn’t the catalyst, but he’d been part of my journey. First, as a supportive friend, then as my date to Nick’s wedding. Had I been too hasty, too angry over childhood hurts, to see things clearly when he stood me up? He’d asked for forgiveness. According to Jimmy, he’d put effort into changing. I loved a good grovel, dammit.

  I spent the night devouring Chase’s story. His words read like both a love letter to me and wish for the future. His character “Tina” was clearly meant to represent me, and her author love interest “Chet” was Chase, right down to the self-absorption and offbeat sense of humor. I wasn’t sure if I should be amused or turned on that his version of the kitchen interlude both excluded any panty ripping and ended in orgasms instead of sister-shaming. Gina and Vanessa would pick up on the similarities, but I could only hope the rest of my family would remain oblivious. It was a fictionalized version of our story, but I inhaled it, reliving some of our best moments. And our darkest. Reading Chase’s ode to “Tina” and seeing “Chet’s” transition from workaholic to thoughtful partner on the page warmed the dark corners left by his neglect. He could write his redemption. But could it be real?

  It was nearly five in the morning when I shut the back cover.

  His words, his vision for the future had seeped into the cracks in my heart. If he could grow and change as much as his story and Jimmy claimed, then I could give him another chance. Waiting in the shadows hadn’t done me any favors. Spending time with Chase had felt like soaking in the sun. He’d warmed me from the inside. I’d taken the first few steps to grow on my own, but his support had magnified the greenhouse effect. I didn’t want one mistake to close the book on our story.

  I traced the couple on the cover with a finger. Jimmy was a good friend to hunt me down and bring this book to me. I might have broken down and read it someday, but it wouldn’t have been anytime soon. My eyes struggled to focus from lack of sleep—I still had to work in a few short hours, but Chase was worth the book hangover.

  Gina gave me a knowing look when I rolled in for my shift with tired eyes and an extra-large cup of coffee. “Stayed up late reading?” I nodded. “How was it?” she asked.

  My lips tilted. “Really good.”

  “Good enough that you want to see him again?” she asked.

  I nodded and she smiled. “I want to read that book.”

  That surprised a laugh out of me. “It’s a deal, I’ll bring it in for you tomorrow. But I want it back.”

  Focusing on work through the weight of fatigue and possibility of reuniting with Chase required all my effort. My mind kept flitting through the possibilities. How to reach out to him. What his response would be. The first step was unblocking him on my phone, but that wouldn’t magically let him know I wanted to talk. I needed to make the first move.

  I drove home with multiple scenarios playing through my head, but none seemed quite right. Sending him a picture of my panties might send the wrong message. Or the right one.

  I scrolled my social media feed when I got home, hoping for inspiration in Chase’s recent posts as Virginia Rothman. I’d unfollowed him to ensure a clean break, and hadn’t seen his recent cooking posts. His latest recipe was for chicken with mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. I smiled at the symmetry.

  @VirginiaRothman that looks like a meal for 2. Let me know if you need someone to help eat it ...

  I wasn’t sure if or when he’d see it, but I didn’t have long to wait as my phone began to ring.

  “Tamra? Is that really you?” Chase asked breathlessly.

  The tangle of anxiety in my chest relaxed at his eager tone.

  “Chase. You called me. Of course, it’s me. How are you?” He couldn’t see my hands shake as I forced a casual tone.

  “Glad to hear your voice. I didn’t know Jimmy was going to bring you an advance copy of my book, but if this is the result, then I owe him beer for life.”

&n
bsp; The obvious relief and pleasure in his tone loosened something inside me. Fears that it was too late for us melted.

  “He told you about his visit?”

  “Yes, afterwards. I promise, I didn’t put him up to it. He’s reminded me about social boundaries again and again. I like to think I’m catching on.”

  I suppressed a smile. “Well, don’t change too much. I still make my own mistakes from time to time.”

  “I’m truly sorry for standing you up. I’d like to see you and apologize in person. Would you be willing to come over for dinner Saturday?” he asked.

  I injected some light suspicion in my voice. “Are you asking me to your place to make it impossible to stand me up? You know you could forget and leave the house, right?”

  “I promise that won’t happen. I thought coming to my place might appeal to you; if I don’t prove that I’m on the ball, then you could kick me in mine.”

  “Wow. Classy like that, am I?”

  “Jimmy had suggested lighting a match and watching my condo burn, but I’m pretty sure the police, fire department, and my insurance company would all frown on that one, not to mention me. Especially since I fully plan to be inside.”

  “Well if it’s frowned upon, you know I’d never do it. I’d love to come over.”

  I could hear the relief in his voice as we finalized details. I couldn’t control my grin and suppressed the giddy rush with effort. We’d both taken the first cautious steps. It was the follow-through where we usually failed. Stop. That was the old Tamra. This year, I’d proven that I could push through. Finish. Stick out the hard things, like my dance classes. Falling in love hadn’t been one of my goals. But with Chase, I hoped happily-ever-after could be.

  Chapter 29 - Chase

  I took Jimmy out for a thank you dinner earlier in the week, and he’d helped me prepare a concrete plan to show I’d changed.

  By Friday, I felt ready, nervous, and on the edge of euphoria. Read-nerv-phoria. Look it up. It’s a thing. Or it should be. Opening up communication with Tamra had been what I’d hoped for when I dedicated the book to her and outed myself. But part of me never thought I’d hear from her again. Waiting for our night together kept me on a knife edge of pleasure-pain at the possibilities.

  My plan’s beauty was in its simplicity. Step one: show up. Very important, that step one. I figured I had that one nailed. My new habits made missing commitments a thing of the past. Step two: prepare something delicious for us to enjoy. That played to my strengths, and I chose a recipe that I could mostly make ahead, to enable step three: shower her with my love and attention. Jimmy had advised me to “Woo the shit out of her.”

  Wooing meant sharing my best self with Tamra, and I prepared everything for our date with care. It took most of the day, and I could feel the cursor on my laptop blinking in silent accusation for missing writing time, but I managed to resist the lure. I had temptation of a whole other kind headed my way tonight.

  I opened the door to Tamra with a smile that lit up my entire face. She showed. A small part of me had thought it would be the perfect revenge to stand me up and blow me off for good. Instead, she was giving me a real chance.

  Tamra wore form-fitting jeans and a red top that took my breath away. Her dark curls and eyes popped against the red color. She returned my smile, and I immediately made it weird, moving in for a hug. As my hands made contact to pull her in close, my brain fired distress signals. This was not the wooing plan! Too fast! Too fast! Abort! However, her face remained open, and she stepped into my arms to return the hug.

  “If you’re going to charge me to let me go, I warn you, I didn’t bring any cash tonight. You might have to hold me forever.”

  I relaxed into the embrace, laughing softly. “I’m feeling pretty deprived; don’t tempt me.” With a last second of firm pressure, I released her and stepped back. Residual tingles spread through my body.

  Step one complete. Time for step two.

  “Please, come in. Can I get you a bottle of wine?” I asked. Shit. That hadn’t come out right.

  Tamra smiled mischievously. “A bottle, huh? You’re pulling out all the stops. I’d love a glass though.”

  That tilt of her bright red lips was destroying my brain synapses. Words were hard. I swallowed, imagining those cherry red lips along the edge of a glass or wrapped around something warmer. I wasn’t smooth at the best of times, but at this rate, a functional MRI would show the pleasure centers of my brain lit up like fireworks if she so much as laughed. I’d been reduced to the conversational skills of a toddler. Mine. Now.

  Tamra followed me into the kitchen, where I poured each of us a glass and focused on the golden liquid. I couldn’t rush this. Tamra deserved my time. She deserved my attention. I met her warm brown gaze as I handed her the glass.

  “What’s for dinner? The fatted calf? A pork shoulder roasted in the tears of my enemies?”

  She caught me as I was taking a sip, and I snorted wine, the sting in my sinuses making my eyes water. Coughing to clear my airway gave me time to think about my response. “Wrong script. How about a very manly, ‘I’m sorry’ quiche Lorraine, or in this case a quiche Tamra, with an ‘hugs and kisses’ salad, followed by cupcakes with heart-shaped messages for dessert?”

  Her eyes widened. “Too much?” I asked innocently.

  It was too much. But I didn’t want to risk her missing my point.

  She squinted one eye at me. “Really?”

  I hadn’t spent most of the day in the kitchen for nothing. Again, “wooing the shit.” I nodded. “Truth. Are you hungry? I chose these dishes so we could eat whenever you’re ready in case you want to relax first.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hungry, but now I am dying of curiosity to find out what a hugs and kisses salad is.”

  I stroked my chin. “Then my evil plan is working. I want to make sure you stick around long enough to hear me out.”

  She was silent, and the awkwardness lingered. Tamra shifted in her seat and took a sip of her wine before her gaze met mine. “When Jimmy came to see me, he claimed you’ve spent a lot of time working on changing. Tell me more about what’s new with you.”

  I took a deep breath. Woo. The shit. I showed her my new organization tools and alarms. The habit tracker I’d diligently filled out, each day showing my writing time and other activities. I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or only being polite. Tamra wasn’t saying much at all. When I finished, she was quiet. Her dark curls rioted around her head like a bevy of question marks. My stomach sank. I hadn’t convinced her. “What do you think? Is it enough that you’ll give me another chance?”

  “Another chance at being my wedding date?” Her head tilted. “I’m all out of family weddings,” she said.

  My gut clenched and I blurted out, “What about yours?”

  “That one’s not happening anytime soon,” she said gently.

  Right. Too fast. But not a no.

  “So, you’re telling me there’s a chance? Nope. Don’t answer that. I want to enjoy the possibility.” I cleared my throat, plowing ahead, “I know I wasn’t a good friend to you, and all of this may look more like theater than reality.” I gestured to my work planner and schedule. “I believed the only way to prove that you were constantly in my thoughts was to publish our book, but I also wanted to make sure you knew how sincerely I missed having you in my life.”

  I moved to the drawer of my desk, pulling out a large document-sized envelope and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?”

  Making it weird since the nineties. That was me. I took a deep breath and nodded at the envelope. “Proof. You don’t have to read it now, but I’m hoping you’ll take it with you tonight. There’s an apology letter. You know, in case I screwed this up in person. It’s been known to happen.” I cleared my throat again, shifting my weight. “I’m going to step into the kitchen and put together our plates. Can I get you another glass?”

  She nodded and handed me hers, then stood glancin
g down at the envelope in her hands. I couldn’t watch. I moved into the kitchen to focus on dinner. I meticulously cut her a slice of quiche, careful not to ruin the “I’m sorry” spelled out in the crust on her piece. Next, I artfully arranged carrot matchsticks and radish rounds in an XOXO pattern over the top of her mixed greens salad. If I was going over the top, then I was doing it in style. My goal was to erase all doubt in Tamra’s mind about her importance in my life.

  I glanced up. Tamra still sat on the couch, reading the my daily editing plan. Most people wouldn’t find the equivalent of weeks of timecards romantic. Maybe it helped that every day was filled with doodles and notes of things I’d wished I could have told her about, interspersed with the proof that I’d changed. Found balance. Missed her terribly, mostly. But I hadn’t fallen into the panacea of work to the exclusion of all else. I’d shown I could be more for her and for myself. Her eyes were shiny, and I didn’t know if that meant I was on the right track or had totally sunk my battleship. She wiped her eyes discreetly and pushed the letter back into the folio before approaching me at the table.

  “Chase.” She sighed, running her hands over the envelope. I felt that sigh to my toes. Disappointment crashed through me, and I did my best to control my expression before she caught me. “I feel this is an appropriate time to mention that I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  She cleared her throat and the sound ricocheted through my brain, lighting up the lustful dreams I abandoned when I thought my plan had failed. “Not to be sexy; just to be safe. I like my underwear and don’t want it torn.” She caught my confused expression and clarified. “Aaand I’m kidding,” she said.

  I laughed and felt the tension bleed out of my shoulders. Her twinkling good humor reassured me.

  “Does that mean that I’m forgiven?” I asked softly as I tugged her to her feet and into the shelter of my arms. “I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

  Tamra tilted her head back until I could see the liquid warmth in her dark eyes. “I’ve never had such a thorough apology.”