by Kara Hart
She’s so cute.
She could really be the one.
But all I can think about is how much she’s going to hate me after this party.
No, this is never going to last. It never does.
Ali
“This is your hotel wake-up call! Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!”
My eyes peel open, dry as sandpaper. The back of my throat feels raw, like I’ve been screaming. Is that pounding feeling in my head real or imaginary?
“I’m awake,” I groan.
It’s not convincing.
The sound of Sammy’s high-pitched voice punctures the stillness of my dreams. Before I can react, she’s launched herself on top of me. I scream in surprise, bolting out of the covers.
Marc stands in the hall, sporting a tangled mat of hair and maroon bathrobe, silk. He waves, smile resembling a winding river. Woof. “Morning.”
“Do you hate mornings as much as I do?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” he says.
Sammy lets out a high-pitched squeal and cowers under the covers as he walks into the room. “Apologies for the brutal assault. She’s crazy in the morning.”
“I am not crazy,” Sammy yells.
Sammy fights back with a kick. Marc catches her foot, but the second one comes in too fast. Her heel connects against his crotch.
“Aghh!”
Before this moment, I had never seen a man’s eyes bug out of his head. It’s an interesting thing to witness.
Marc stumbles, pushing his entire body against the doorway. “Sammy, you’re in big trouble,” he squeaks.
“No, I’m not,” she giggles, just a huge bubble of laughter and chaotic energy.
She runs right through his legs into the kitchen. My ears perk as I hear her feet clap against the tile. And then I hear one big bark. Rowdy screams for his life before bolting into the guest room and onto my bed.
His paws hit my chest with a thud. “Some wake-up call, huh?”
Rowdy’s tail sinks under his butt.
Last night was emotionally intense. But if this start is any indication as to how this day might go, today’s going to be, well, rowdy.
Nearly back to his old self, Marc stands and exhales. “That’s not what I wanted you to see first thing in the morning,” he says.
I recall my ex-boyfriend’s room. There were piles of clothes stacked like piles of wood. From the floor to the ceiling. He insisted on keeping a framed picture of him kissing the model from his favorite magazine, Daily Sport. Whenever I felt the energy to make some coffee in the kitchen, the sink was full of dirty dishes.
I’m so glad that’s over.
“I’ve seen worse,” I mutter.
Waving my yawn away, I head through the door. He doesn’t have to reach for a kiss. Standing on my tippy-toes, I just give it to him. A simple peck on the lips.
“Got a spare toothbrush?” I ask.
He moves at an angle and points to his room. “Use my bathroom. Top drawer, second row. I set a towel out if you want to shower. Sorry I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“No problem.”
I check the time. We still have a few hours until we have to get going to school. The sizzling scent of bacon snaps me away from my responsibilities.
“I’m making breakfast, by the way. Coffee’s percolating,” he says, charming wink included.
I breathe, nostrils widening to take in more scrumptious scents. “I’ll be out in ten,” I say.
When I step into his room, I make a conscious effort not to be too nosy. Granted, there’s not really much to see. It’s immaculate. The bed is made. The floor looks like it was just cleaned. How is there no dust on the top of the TV?
He can’t be the perfect man. That guy doesn’t really exist. As I push the sliding door to his bathroom open, I hope I’m wrong. Can I call a bathroom sexy? Well, his sure is.
This bathroom is nicer than the one I’ve been using in the hall, that’s for sure. The toilet is one of those European bidets. Dare I try it?
After drying off, I use a very effective blow dryer to give my hair some much needed shine and volume. I gather all my things, a small makeup kit, my favorite mascara, and other beauty products I carry around but hardly ever use. Leaning against the sink, I look at my reflection and smile. I feel ready for anything, but I’m really thinking about Marc now.
What makes him tick? What does he like? What does he even do for fun, anyway?
These are questions I’m asking myself as I brush mascara across my eyelashes. Some added contour, something I usually skip over. Adding some lipstick, I kiss at the mirror and almost immediately blush. It’s been a long time since I felt like I had to act sexy. It’s going to take some getting used to.
Gold hoops add a little spice. A green emerald necklace gives me some mystery. Heart stockings bring the perfect amount of sparkle to accentuate my dress. The more things I add, the more confident I feel.
Shooting a glance at the locked bathroom door, I lower the towel. Right to the floor. I let it linger around my ankles before taking another step back to see me. All of me.
When I stare at my body, I don’t necessarily feel sexy. I’ve gotten a little thick around the edges, but mostly, I’m my usual, average self. At first glance, I feel like running and hiding in a different outfit. Guys don’t want the usual. They want the shiny version.
I suck in my stomach and turn, accenting my butt by bending at an angle. I actually start to get into it, feeling myself out. Feeling really sexy. I’m bent in the most uncomfortable position imaginable, but if this is what men want, I’m going to do it.
Standing for a moment, I dim the lights. I imagine Marc entering the room, his hands bringing his warmth across my skin. I smile as his hand grasps my hip, pushing me against his pelvis, twisting his fingers against mine. I see his eyes, and can’t resist him.
A quick knock comes from the hallway. “Ali, your plate of food is coming up next,” Marc calls out. “Five minutes.”
Anxious and shocked to my core, I slip, ass landing right on the tile floor. The pain reverberates through up my spine. “Almost ready,” I croak.
“Take your time.”
Ouch. My beautiful ass.
Quick check in the mirror. Another kiss to make myself feel more confident. Deep breath. I throw my clothes on and get the hell out of his perfect bathroom.
My heels hit the tile, and all eyes turn to me.
Marc’s eyes go big, and he stammers through his words. A perfectly cracked egg dangles between two fingers. The yolk plops in the center of the pan. “Wow... You look absolutely stunning.”
The shiny version.
“Just a little makeup for Valentine’s Day,” I say. “Nothing too special.”
Downplay it to look even shinier.
He blinks three times. “I’m about to get down on one knee,” he jokes.
I look down and blush. “Thank you.”
Sitting at the table, Sammy eats her breakfast. She’s wearing a red corduroy overall dress with a matching beret. She looks adorable. Hopefully her mood stays in the green.
Glancing at the bacon grease stains on his white undershirt, he grabs a wet towel and starts to nudge at it. “I didn’t know everyone was dressing up today.”
Sammy zooms past me to her room. “Backpack!”
I lower my voice. “How is she?” I ask
He looks back, a little uneasy as he hands me a cup of coffee and hot plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. “So far, so good,” he says. “It can change at any moment, though. If she acts out, send her outside for a few minutes. That usually does the trick. I had a talk with her this morning. She knows not to act up.”
Blowing the steam off the top of my coffee mug, I hang my lips over the edge and impatiently sip. I burn my tongue, but it’s worth it. The coffee is really good. Glancing at the bag, I see expensive packaging, gold lettering punched in from a vintage typewriter. The name is foreign and hard to pronounce.
“In any case, I�
��m keeping it low pressure. It’s a half-day. We’re going to watch a Peanuts cartoon, while we give out our letters.”
Marc scrunches his nose. “Charlie Brown?”
Charlie Brown was one of my favorite cartoons growing up. Don’t ask why. “Hey, what’s wrong with good ol’ Charlie?” I ask.
“What year is it again?”
“Okay, cool guy. What would you suggest we watch?” I ask.
“The Sandlot,” he says. “That was my favorite movie growing up.”
It makes me laugh a little because I totally forgot about that movie. “What a reference.”
“The nerd got his kiss at the end,” he says. “I always loved that.”
I squint, balancing my tongue between my front teeth. He was pretty nerdy in the picture he showed me yesterday, but it’s hard to picture him that way now. “Didn’t he pretend to drown in order to get that kiss?”
He smirks. “Not a terrible plan.”
“Does that mean you’re aching for a kiss from me?” I ask.
“Only if I can keep living to see you walk through that door today,” he says.
Another date tonight? It comes out of the blue. Of course, I was hoping he’d ask. It is Valentine’s Day, after all.
He comes up close, bringing his kissable lips to me, and I get a whiff of his cologne. Coupled with the rich aroma of food and coffee, this feels like heaven. He kisses me, and it doesn’t even feel out of place. It just feels right. So right, I can hardly believe it.
“Mm,” he moans.
“That was nice. I think I’ll keep you alive,” I joke.
I open my eyes and see his handsome face. He just shaved, and his smile is as bright as the morning sun outside the window. Not wanting to be rude, I turn back to my huge plate of food.
I take a bite of eggs, digging my fork into the heart of the yolk. The yellow liquid spreads across the plate, covering the edge of artisan toast.
Marc watches me as I take a bite of bread. It’s incredible, as always. The bacon tastes even better. “Good?” he asks.
With half of my plate already eaten, I’m trying not to inhale the rest of my food. “I’m telling you. Quit the magazine business. Become a chef,” I say, mouth full.
“I enjoy food too much. If it became my job, I’d end up hating it,” he says.
Food, money, and a great family. Fuck. This is such a dangerous combination of things.
I shrug. “Weird. I love my job,” I say.
He chuckles and moves as Sammy rudely pushes between us. “You’re a better person than I am. One kid feels like enough.”
Hm.
I don’t dwell on that statement for too long, but it makes me wonder if Sammy is the end of his fatherly journey. I’m not a terribly organized person, but I’ve got a pretty workable map of the future in my back pocket. I’ve always imagined I’d be a mother of my own child someday.
Obviously, this isn’t the right time to think about it. This is basically our first date. It’s not a good time to be thinking about a marriage proposal either, but it’s come into my head a few times.
Sammy must sense my thoughts because she interrupts the silence with another bombastic announcement. “Lords and Ladies. Gentlemen and gentlewomen. Hearie, hearie!”
Rowdy peeks his head out of the room before ducking back inside.
Marc interrupts. “Okay, we get it. On with the announcement.”
Sammy narrows her eyes and glares at her father. “I have an announcement,” she says. “Today is a special day. May your hearts be merry and full of chocolate!”
Smiling big, she looks back at her father who affectionately kisses the top of her head. She’s coping much better than yesterday, which is good. Sometimes, a good night’s sleep is all one needs. This holiday is such a menace to so many women, it’s a wonder how we’re still finding ways to get through it. But we are. And no matter what happens between Marc and I, I’ll always love Sammy.
“Are you ready to go to school with Ms. Greenwald?” Marc asks.
Sammy looks up at her father. Her excitement is starting to fade, and a noticeable worry has set in. “You’re not coming, daddy?”
Marc glances at me first before his daughter, a little bummed. He kneels to her level and exhales. “Sweetie, you know daddy would love to come to school with you. Especially today,” he says. “But they don’t let grown-ups in the building.”
“Yeah, they do. Erica’s mom came to class once,” she says.
“That was Dr. Seuss day,” Marc says. “She read Green Eggs and Ham, remember? I was there, too.”
I come in with the necessary back up. “The rules are so strict there. They only let little girls in with magical powers,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Daddies don’t have powers. But little daughters do.”
Marc’s looking at me, inquisitively. I shrug and drag my lips down, just rolling with the idea. I’m not a mom. I’ve never changed a diaper. But I do pretty well around my students.
Leave all the diaper changing for the men.
“We do?” Sammy asks.
I nod. “That’s right. But we have to learn how to control our magic before we use it to help the greater good.”
Sammy takes my hand and jumps. “Will you teach me, Ms. Greenwald? Please?”
Chuckling, I lead her toward the front door.
Marc makes sure she has her backpack on before heading out the door. Sammy pounces toward the sidewalk. But before I can run ahead with Sammy, he takes my hand and pulls me close.
“You’re amazing,” he says. “And I don’t mean that in a scare you off sort of way. It was just a nice night.”
“And morning,” I say. “And this afternoon will be fun. Got anything planned?”
He pushes his lips out, hiding a smile. “I guess you’ll find out in a few hours.”
“No fair,” I say. “The suspense is killing me.”
Rowdy pushes across my leg and sits on my feet, happy that Sammy isn’t tormenting him. “Take care of him, will you?” I ask.
Marc looks down at the old mutt and gives a look. “Can I just leave him here with Ragamuffin?”
A sharp whine resounds behind us. We both glance inside the hall. Ragamuffin is in the corner. She starts growling, showing her sharp canines. She looks like an absolute monster.
A cute monster.
“On second thought, I think I’ll bring Rowdy to the office,” he says. “The staff will love him. Farts and all.”
Marc always finds a way to make me laugh, but my endorphins are helping every step of the way. There is just something uplifting about his smile, and his wholesome eyes keep me grounded. I keep forgetting who this man is, what he does for a living, and how nice his life is. Our past history aside, he’s just someone who makes me happy.
Sometimes, falling for someone is as simple as that.
“I’ll see you later,” I say.
He pulls me in for a quick kiss. I turn my head to look for Sammy, and he’s already back in to kiss my cheek. One, two, three kisses.
Sammy is nearing the stop sign at the end of the block. “Last one there is a rotten egg!”
He keeps pulling me in for kisses.
“Marc, I have to get to your daughter,” I grunt. “You heard her. If I don’t get there fast, I’ll be a rotten egg.”
He lets go, placing his hands in the air near his chest. “We don’t want that.”
Backing away from the door, I grin. Then, I run ahead and catch up with Sammy. Today is going to be a great day.
I just know it.
Marc
Today is going to be the hardest day of my life. I just know it. Why? Because I’m the idiot who is head-over-heels for a woman I still don’t entirely know.
It’s crazy.
Fucking insane.
A massive risk.
I have a rule with women. If she makes your world feel like it’s about to fall apart, she’s worth taking a second look at. Sometimes, that can lead to some disastrous outcomes.
I’m more optimistic about my chances with this one.
Problem is, I’ve put all my chips on her. And tonight is a special night. After Sammy goes to sleep, I’m taking her on an adventure. Somewhere that will hopefully remind her just how special she is.
As I drive across town, I narrowly miss traffic. Rowdy butts his head through the middle of my Mercedes. Hair is flying everywhere, his drool is getting all over the leather upholstery, and he kind of stinks. Agreeing to watching him was another stupid idea.
I’m just loopy for this woman. But in the twenty or so years of dating women of all kinds, that dizzying, exciting feeling always went away. This feels different. If I have to ruin my car with a big stinky dog, I’ll do it for her.
I pull us into the parking garage. From the back, Rowdy jumps into the front seat and places a paw on my chest. He issues a soft whine.
“Treat?” I ask.
Digging through the center compartment, I find a bag of treats I bought for Ragamuffin, the bane of my existence. This dog is at least well behaved. Who would’ve thought?
“All right. Outside, and you eat,” I say.
Stepping out of the car, I come to the side door with his leash and treat in hand. I open the door and leash him up before teasing him with a tantalizing treat.
“You hungry?”
Rowdy’s entire body lights up, tail wagging and smacking the ground. He lifts his head, licks my hand, and sinks his mouth over my entire hand. When he pulls back, the only thing that’s still there is a layer of slime.
“I didn’t say you could eat my whole hand,” I tell him, shaking some of the dog saliva onto the concrete.
Ali’s dog stares at me lovingly, always breathing like he’s just ran a mile. I can’t stay mad at something so cute. I can, however, hand-sanitize before I get through those doors and have to shake some hands.
Inside my building, I’m seeing funny looks, questionable expressions, and what I first assume are mean comments about my hair. They’re not. They’re about Rowdy. He looks like a total beast, but he’s a pretty nice dog at his core.
“Be nice,” I shout. “He’s only a dog.”