She's Got Dibs

by AJ Nuest

  Because Dibs deserved much more than she could ever give him.

  He knelt beside the bed. “Do you want to put your pajamas on?”

  “I need to lie dow’.” She fell to the side, her head tamping the downy pillow.

  He tugged the comforter over her body and tucked it around her waist. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

  If only she could share everything her heart. How happy she was they had become friends; how she hated being so distant and cold. All the stupid mistakes she had made and the devastating heartbreak when Michael left.

  She placed a palm on her forehead. “I’m really sorry, Dibs.”

  “That’s okay.”

  He smoothed the covers over her shoulders, and she captured his hand, pressing the backs of his fingers to her cheek. But she wasn’t strong enough. And all the right words remained just out of reach. A bitter tear welled in her eye. “I mean it, Dibs. I’m very, very sorry.”

  He returned to one knee, cupped her face in his hands, and his thumb swept the tear from the hollow beneath her eye. “Shhh,” he whispered, “it’s okay, Rex.”

  She didn’t want him to leave. The thought of being alone was too wretched, too bleak. “Will you stay with me?” she asked.

  “I really think you’ve had too much to drink.” He brushed the hair back from her temple.

  Another tear tumbled past her lashes. “Then could you hold me for a while? Just until I fall asleep?”

  He floated a kiss along her brow, so quick and light she wasn’t sure if she’d merely imagined it. “Okay, Rex.”

  She rolled over to be next to him, lifting his arm when he lay down, tucking herself in under the protection of his shoulder. Placing her head on his chest, she closed her eyes, one arm wrapped snugly around his waist.

  His hand met the small of her back, keeping her close.

  She plunged down a deep, dark tunnel, relaxing more and more, safe inside the comfort of his embrace and rhythm of his heart in her ear.

  ****

  Tessa blinked. The slow, even tempo of Dibs’s chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. She cautiously searched her bedroom…and then closed her eyes. Moving them hurt too much.

  Just wait one second…

  A miserable groan escaped as she rolled over, her arms and legs tangled in the rumpled remains of her suit. She sat up and peered over her shoulder. Dibs still occupied the other side of her bed, asleep on his back. A throaty snore spilled from his lips. The blanket from her couch lay draped over him, and except for his coat, shoes, and tie, he was fully dressed.

  She frowned. Why was Dibs in her bed and what the hell was up with her ass?

  She ran through the previous evening in her mind, but the last clear image she could summon were her feet leaving the restaurant.

  The digital clock on her nightstand read seven thirty. She touched her fingertips to her forehead and gently massaged. Twenty cotton balls had been stuffed in her mouth, and some sadist had strapped a tight metal band around her head. She stuck out her tongue, and then smacked her lips. The echo rebounded loudly in her cranium.

  She gingerly eased to her feet and headed for the kitchen. There must be coffee, lots and lots of strong coffee, if she planned to face the day.

  While the dark stream drizzled into the pot, she pulled a baggie from the drawer and filled it with ice. She pressed the makeshift ice pack first to her forehead, then to her tailbone.

  Three aspirin went down with her first sip of coffee. She filled a second cup and padded back into her bedroom.

  Lowering to the edge of the bed, she set the coffees on the nightstand, and sat silent a moment, hands clasped, resting on her knees. Thick stubble shadowed Dibs’s chin, his hair playfully mussed and the fringe of his dark eyelashes two small fans above his cheeks. Tiffany was right. Even dead asleep the man was gorgeous.

  She smiled and dotted a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “Hey.”

  His eyes fluttered opened, and a slight frown creased his brow as they shifted back and forth across her ceiling.

  A quiet laugh was her response.

  Matching her smile, he rolled onto his side, and slipped a hand under the pillow. “How are you feeling?”

  “Ouch.” She squeezed one eye closed, pointing at her forehead. “Okay, give it to me straight. How bad was it?”

  “Not too bad in the grand scheme of things, but I’m assuming sorta bad for you.” He levered up on his elbow and accepted the coffee she offered, leaning forward for a sip.

  “Uh huh, and why, exactly, is my ass throbbing like a bass drum?”

  He choked, sputtering into his cup. “You fell.”

  Grimacing, she covered her face with one hand. “God, I’m such a dork.”

  “A very sweet dork.”

  She peeked at him through her fingers. Figures Dibs would be considerate enough to turn her embarrassment into a compliment. “Was I upset? I think I remember being upset for some reason.”

  He dipped his head. “You got a little upset.”

  “About?”

  He brought the cup to his lips, as if using the moment to consider his reply. “You didn’t say,” he finally answered.

  But his evasion didn’t hide the knowledge in his eyes. He knew…he knew why she’d been upset, but wasn’t telling her. “What did I say?”

  One corner of his lips quirked in a half smile. “‘I’m sorry, Dibs,’ was the preferred phrase.”

  Yes, she remembered apologizing…and sorrow. “Well, there’s that, at least.” She stood and entered the bathroom, eying her disheveled reflection in the mirror. Dark mascara smudges ghosted down both her cheeks. Alice Cooper had nothing on her. “I need to get my very sore ass to work. I’ve got a lot to do today.”

  “Okay.” The covers rustled. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

  As Dibs collected his coat from the end of the bed, picked up his tie and stuffed it in his pocket, she waded through the muck in her brain, trying to work out why he was there. Based on her condition, he had probably been worried, so he stayed to watch over her.

  Her eyes welled with tears all over again. God, what was wrong with her?

  She blinked them away when he paused in the bedroom doorway. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Sure, okay.” She trailed him down the hall to the front door. “Hey, Dibs?”

  He lifted his brows.

  “Thanks for watching out for me last night.”

  He smiled and twisted the knob. “I’ll call you later.” He pulled the door open and left.

  ****

  At the resonating gong of the office doorbell, Tessa pried her aching head off her desk.

  “Uh oh.” Tiffany stopped inside the office doorway. “This doesn’t look good. How do you feel?”

  “My head’s killing me, but it doesn’t hurt half as bad as my ass.”

  A chortle burst from her lips. “Good grief. What happened?”

  “Evidently, I fell.”

  “Oh, no.” She tossed her head back, blonde hair swinging as her laughter pinged around the room.

  But her amusement settled sourly in the middle of Tessa’s stomach. “Ha, ha, laugh it up. It’s your fault, anyway.”

  “How is that my fault?”

  Tessa winced, pinching the bridge of her nose. God, did she have to talk so loud? “If you and Kevin hadn’t been all lovey-dovey last night, I wouldn’t have gotten drunk.”

  “Or you could finally admit you’re crazy about the whack job and get over this stupid hang-up of yours.”

  “His name’s Dibs,” she snapped. “And we’re just friends.”

  “Okay, geesh. Take my head off.”

  “You made me completely uncomfortable last night, Tiff. The whole thing was embarrassing.”

  “Listen, missy.” Tiffany aimed a sharp finger across the room. “The only one who should be embarrassed is you. You drank too much because you can’t deal with how you’re developing feelings for your so-called friend, and now because you
’re hung over, you’re taking your misery out on me.”

  “You are so way off base.” Tessa crossed her arms. “I was embarrassed because we couldn’t even have a conversation at the table without you and Ke-vin groping each other.”

  “Well, I’m sorry if I interrupted your fake little world with some genuine emotion, Tessa. Unlike you, I prefer not to waste my time trying to fool myself and everyone else around me.” Tiffany spun on her toe and disappeared.

  Tessa lowered her cheek back to the paperwork on her desk. The perfect start to the perfect day. Her head hurt, her body hurt, and she could’ve sworn there were times when her heart hurt. And the worst part? Tiffany was right. Her attachment to Dibs was growing. Had been since the moment he sat next to her in the airport. But skipping blindly down the path to heartbreak would only compound the problem. And she wasn’t about to add another mistake to the never-ending list in her possession.

  Most of the day, she spent hiding out in her office, avoiding the world. Whenever an issue arose that required Tiff’s expertise, she added it to the ever-growing pile on the side of her desk before finding something else to occupy her time.

  Later that afternoon when the phone rang, she quickly answered, hoping the caller might be Dibs so she could hear a friendly voice.

  “Not feeling too good, huh?” he asked.

  “I think the appropriate word here would be yuck.”

  He chuckled. “No dinner out, then?”

  “I just don’t think I can, Dibs. I need to go home and put on my warm jammies, and sit under a blanket with the remote.”

  “Is this one of those crises that calls for pizza and chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream?”

  Her cheeks heated. Weren’t those her exact words to him on the plane? “Very funny.”

  “What time are you knocking off?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Dibs, really. I’m not going to be any fun, that’s for sure.”

  “Relax, Rex. It’s just me.”

  How could he want to spend time with her after she’d acted like such a fool? He should’ve been thrilled with the prospect of having the night off. Evidently his compassion for her trumped any necessity to place judgment on her behavior. And truth was, her psyche could use a little TLC. “Okay, sure. That sounds wonderful, actually.”

  “Pick you up at six?”

  “Make it five-thirty.”

  She dropped the phone in the cradle and stared at the handset. He’d done it again. With one call, a few kind words, everything in her world was back to being bearable. Now all she needed was his warm hug and life would be perfect.

  The expectation of spending the evening with him lightened her mood, as well as bolstered her confidence, and thankfully so because one unsavory task still required her attention.

  Once the hands on the clock had crept close to five-thirty, Tessa pushed away from her desk, approached Tiffany’s open door, and leaned against the threshold. “Are we speaking yet?”

  Tiffany’s head stayed lowered, her hand jotting notes along the edge of her accounting ledger. “Depends.”

  “I’m really sorry, Tiff.”

  “We’re speaking.” She lifted her chin, folding her hands atop her desk.

  Tessa crossed the office and flopped into a chair. “If it makes you feel any better, Dibs said I spent the remainder of the evening apologizing.”

  “And what does that tell you, Tessa?”

  “That I’m screwed up.” She flipped her hands in the air around her head. “Big surprise there.”

  “The question is, what are you going to do about it?” Sadness clouded Tiffany’s dark blueberry eyes. “You know I say things like this because I care about you, but goddamn it, Tessa, sometimes you are the most frustrating person to be around.”

  She filled her lungs and slowly exhaled. God, what she wouldn’t give to rewind the past and make different decisions…better decisions. “I know I need to change things, Tiff, but it’s not that easy for me. You know…you were there when he left.”

  “That was over three years ago. Never in my wildest dreams did I think you would hang on to the hurt for this long.”

  The doorbell chimed and Tessa twisted in the seat as Dibs strode into reception. She held up a finger, asking him to wait a moment. He nodded, propped an elbow against the reception counter and pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket.

  “Again with the Dibs?”

  She swiveled back to Tiffany’s confused frown and shrugged. “We’re getting pizza.”

  “Well,” she sighed, “you must be doing something right.”

  ****

  Standing near the back of Dibs’s Jag, pizza box in hand, Tessa waited while he collected some suspicious-looking grocery bags from the trunk. Once inside her condo, he marched directly into the kitchen and swung both the refrigerator and freezer doors wide.

  She laughed when he centered a pint of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream in the freezer, and then followed that with stocking various food items in the refrigerator—a gallon of milk, orange juice, some bottled water…

  “You just can’t stand it, can you?” She strolled the length of the counter, perusing the bags, her first genuine smile of the day blooming when she located a generous bouquet of fuchsia gladiolas.

  “All that empty space bothers me.” He tossed in a loaf of bread and some shaved turkey. “It’s like a black hole or something.”

  She arranged the flowers in tall vase, carried them down the hall to her bedroom, and stashed them on her dresser while she changed into the most comfortable silk tank top and pajama pants she owned. Each time she caught sight of the beautiful flowers, an arrow of happiness shot straight into her heart. In a silly way, having them within arm’s reach was like keeping a small part of Dibs near.

  The bouquet went with her into the bathroom, where she took a stab at repairing the day’s damage—clipping her hair on top of her head and brushing until the tresses cascaded sleek and smooth down her back. She added a dab of lip gloss, but no amount of concealer would hide the heavy shadows beneath her eyes, or the ashen hue of her cheeks. Sighing, she turned away from the glass.

  The throw blanket from the couch carried a hint of his cologne. Keeping one corner pressed to her lips, she tossed the other end around her shoulders, shuffling and straightening the length until both her and the re-appropriated flowers were wrapped up snug and tight.

  In the kitchen, Dibs still stood before the open fridge. “I forgot condiments.”

  “Well, since I don’t need them, it’s really not that big a deal.” She set the vase on the counter and flipped open the pizza box.

  He followed her motions, his smile slowly fading, worry darkening his gaze to stormy gray.

  “What?” She folded a slice and bit off the end.

  “You look like you should go lie down.”

  “I feel like I should go lie down.”

  He crossed his arms, the seams of his blue V-neck T-shirt straining around his shoulders. “Other than that pizza in your hand, have you eaten anything today?”

  “Don’t start. I wasn’t hungry.”

  He swung the refrigerator door closed and waited for her to hoist the flowers in one arm before marshalling her into the living room. “Sit down.” He pointed to the couch. “And why do you keep toting those flowers around?”

  He reached for the vase, but she scowled and twisted away from him. “Get your own. These are mine.”

  Eyes wide, hands raised in surrender, he backed into the kitchen and reappeared a few seconds later, plates and napkins balanced on top of the pizza box. Handing her the bottle of water he’d tucked under his arm, he joined her on the couch. “So, other than feeling yucky, how was your day?”

  “It stunk. Tiff and I had a fight.” She hesitated, inwardly cringing. Talk about stupid. Discussing whether or not she was developing feelings for him beyond friendship wasn’t a good idea. That topic would only lead in a dangerous direction.

  “About what?” />
  She chewed her pizza, mulling over her answer. Coming clean with him about a few things seemed the most obvious choice. Besides, she valued his opinion. And he always seemed to know the right thing to say. “You know the little voice inside your head that supposedly tells you what’s wrong from right?”

  “Ah, you mean your conscience?”

  She slanted a glare at him from under her brows. “Well, Tiffany thinks mine is broken, so she’s volunteered to fill in. In her opinion, I’m living my life in an inappropriate fashion.” She braced and waited. Chances were good he would agree.

  He grunted, the cheese stretching when he shoveled some pizza onto his plate. “How long have you two been friends?”

  “Almost ten years. Why?”

  “Well, do you think she’s right?”

  “That’s not the point,” she said. “Sometimes I just don’t want to listen to the voice.”

  He leaned away from her, frowning. “Why not?”

  “Okay, you’ve been married before, so maybe you’ll get this.” She settled into the couch, tucking her cold feet underneath her bottom. “How were you feeling the week before you got married?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Happy, I guess, and excited and a little nervous.”

  “Right. Normal feelings, right?”

  He nodded, tearing off a bite of pizza with his teeth.

  “Well, I was feeling the same way. I remember thinking, in a few days I would be Mrs. Michael Phoenix. I was happy, you know, really happy. TNT had just opened its doors, Michael was about to receive his film degree. Everything was perfect…and then poof, he vanished.”

  Dibs’s pizza clattered back onto the plate. “What do you mean, ‘poof, he vanished’? Like he disappeared?”

  She smiled ruefully. “Tiff and I had gone for my last fitting. And when we returned to the apartment, all Michael’s things were cleared out. No note. No phone call. No…nothing.” And she’d suffered the next two weeks in a panic—searching out hospitals, his friends and family. But if they had any information, they’d never shared it with her. And a month later, the truth finally hit home.

  She picked at a spot on her pizza crust. “So, tell me, Dibs. Where was my little voice then? Why wasn’t it screaming for attention a week or even days before he left, trying to warn me? Where the hell was it?” Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I think sometimes when a person spends that much time with someone, it’s easy to take for granted they’ll always be there.”