[2018] Confessions From the Heart

by TB Markinson

  Kat put her hand on my arm. “I want to hear from you. Please explain.”

  “I’ve dated, of course, but no one really captured my interest. Nothing against any of them. Well, Brooke was crazy, but most of the others… didn’t do it for me. Even Annie. Most people would kill to have a woman like Annie in their life, but for me, there was something missing.”

  “Their fondness for sleeping in the same bed put you off,” she quipped.

  I gritted my teeth. “This has nothing to do with Barb and Roger.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. For now, let’s table it. Did they lack bedroom skills?”

  “They ticked that box.”

  Kat shook her head, laughing.

  I drummed my fingers against my chin. “I want more, Kat. Not just a roll in the hay. I thought you would understand that by now.”

  Kat played with her straw, emitting an ear-piercing plastic on plastic sound. “Don’t stop.”

  Two guys walked in, brushed snow from their jackets, and marched to the counter.

  Kat urged me with a head bob to go on.

  “A lot of the girls didn’t want me. They wanted what I could offer. My last name. Money. Access to my mother. Uncle Roger. I went to private schools and then Harvard. People in my social circles look at the optics first, what they can get, and then maybe the heart.” I’d ticked each with a raised finger.

  She nodded.

  “And I don’t play that game.”

  “What game do you play?”

  I laughed, rubbing my right eye with the back of my hand. “I don’t.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll turn out like the others. Use you?”

  I bolted upright in my seat. “Of course not.”

  “Why not? I’m an artist, and your aunt is the person who has made a lot of careers. I noticed you left her name off the list.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Because I don’t think you would do that. Anyone who’s lived in a house in Louisburg Square and left to live in an apartment that’s too small for Keebler Elves, isn’t a conniving social climber.”

  “My apartment isn’t that small,” she objected. “Besides, every artist, or writer”—she waved to me—“dreams of their big break.”

  “Dreaming of breaking into the art world and using people to achieve that are two different ballgames.”

  “Like you submitting stories under a pen name?”

  “Exactly!”

  The guys waiting for their food glanced in our direction.

  I scrunched in my seat and lowered my voice. “I don’t know how I know or how to explain… Kat, you’re the real deal.” I clutched the front of my sweater. “I know it here.” I tapped my forehead. “And here.”

  “Then why do you keep running?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know.” My conscience yelled liar in my head.

  “You have to have an inkling, leading us back to Barb and Roger.” Kat’s voice was quiet.

  I groaned. “You’ve talked to my family. I’ve always been independent. I popped out wanting to make it on my own.”

  Kat crossed her arms, staring into my eyes. “I believe that, but there’s more to it.”

  I released a nervous puff of air. “I know what girls like Brooke want from me. A good time. Others, like I said, want to be seen with me. But you… I don’t get it.”

  She crinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”

  I rested on my forearms. “When are you going to realize that I’m not good enough for you?”

  Kat flinched, snapping her eyes shut as if I’d sprayed her face with chunks of food. “That’s so not going to happen.”

  “It’s how I feel. Deep down.”

  Kat opened her eyes and spoke slowly. “I’m calling bullshit.”

  “You can’t call bullshit when I’m telling you how I feel.” Granted, I wasn’t telling her everything.

  The guys grabbed their takeout and left, too engrossed in their conversation to pay us any attention.

  Kat and I continued to stare at each other.

  Finally, her shoulders relaxed. “I think you believe that. But I also think there’s something you’re not telling me, and maybe you aren’t aware of the real issue.”

  “So, you’re implying I’m subconsciously thinking poorly about myself to sabotage our relationship?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Her one-word answer wasn’t very Kat-like, making it even harder to hear.

  I slurped my drink.

  Kat’s expression relaxed. “This probably isn’t helping your stress levels.”

  “Not really.” I laughed, scratching the back of my neck.

  “I don’t want to push you, really. The shoes earlier were meant to be a joke.” She reached for my hand. “I know you have a hard time letting people in. But if you could try to give me occasional peeks inside, I’ll go easier on you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Several nights later, Kat opened the door before I had a chance to knock.

  “It’s freaky how you do that.”

  She arched a menacing left brow. “It’s imperative to keep you on your toes.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I can tell you, but if I do, you won’t get a kiss.” She licked her full lips, knowing she had me.

  “You seriously don’t play fair.” I pulled her to me.

  “What? You never cheated in a basketball game?” Her voice was teasing.

  “Never.” My mouth inched closer to hers.

  “But you used every advantage you could.” Her eyes showed confidence in this assertion.

  “Of course.”

  Kat captured my lips, starting the kiss sweetly. Soon, the heat factor jacked up the charts to scorching hot. When I bumped her against the wall, slipping my hand under her shirt, she broke free.

  “This isn’t how this night is going to go,” she said, straightening her skirt and top as if she was about to give a presentation to the board. “I’m not some girl you can use when you want without putting in the time.”

  I held her face in both of my hands. “I will never use you.”

  “Because I won’t let you,” she said with a fierceness I wasn’t used to.

  “If you actually think that about me, you’re seriously mistaken,” I spoke through gritted teeth.

  Kat slanted her head. “Do you want to fight about this or take me to dinner like we had planned?”

  “Are those my only options?”

  “Yes,” she said in all seriousness.

  I sucked in a mouthful of air. “Why do you get to dictate things?”

  “By all means, take over and make the decisions.” She sat on the arm of the recliner, hugging her chest, waiting.

  I stood there seething, but I had no idea why I was so hot and bothered. Not in a good way.

  Kat glanced at her wrist. “Tick tock.”

  “You aren’t even wearing a watch.” I thought it important to point out what she already knew.

  “True, but I’m about to pass out from hunger.”

  “I can’t let that happen to you.” My tone and stiff shoulders dramatically softened.

  “Ah, the protective side has kicked in.” She bobbed her head appreciatively.

  “Is that wrong?”

  Kat sashayed to me. “I like it.”

  I hooked my arm for hers. “What else do you like about me?” My voice hardened again.

  “Not that tone.” A trace of playfulness returned to her demeanor, but there was still an underlying warning.

  I grimaced. “I’m sorry. It’s just… sometimes, I don’t know what to do around you.” She started to speak, but I put a finger against her lips. “Don’t say I know. Or, that’s interesting.”

  Kat kissed my cheek. “I’m going to make this easy for you. Lead me out the door. From there, we’ll figure things out together.”

  I smiled, although, I tried to curtail it. “You’re maddening.”

  “S
o are you, dear. Yet, I’m still here.”

  “Me too.”

  “It’s a start.” She placed her head on my shoulder. “You look nice, by the way. Did your mom iron your slacks and blouse?”

  “If you think Nell Tisdale knows how to turn on an iron, you are sorely mistaken.” I waved. “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

  I unlocked my mom’s car and held the door open for Kat.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You want me to ruin the surprise?”

  Kat’s eyes boggled when I led her inside the posh French restaurant that would make great copy for a magazine spread illustrating a story titled “How To Impress A Woman.”

  The hostess greeted us with a welcoming smile. “Ms. Tisdale,” she said before I opened my mouth. “Your table is waiting.”

  The redhead led us past a floor-to-ceiling wine rack, each slot housing a vintage bottle. Tables in the dining area were adequately spaced to offer a semblance of privacy. Yet, we didn’t stop. Around the corner was a secluded place for two.

  I held out a chair for Kat. She dipped her head to say thanks as if afraid to speak.

  The hostess poured water into crystal glasses. “Would you like to see the wine menu?”

  “Please,” I said.

  The woman set the burgundy bound wine menu down in front of me. “Antoine will be serving you this evening. If you need anything, please let anyone of us know.”

  When alone, Kat scratched the side of her face. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or suspicious.”

  “Do you always see everything in black and white terms?”

  “Are you saying I should be in the middle?”

  I scanned the wine list. “I’m saying you should relax and enjoy the evening.”

  “Why does she know your name? Do you bring all your dates here?”

  “Never been here before. Mom suggested it. Hey, you like to make decisions. Here.” I handed her the wine menu.

  Kat glanced down. “There aren’t any prices.”

  I laughed. “That’s not my concern.” I leaned over the table. “I know beer, not wine. Help me, please.”

  “Then why did you bring us here and not a sports bar?” Her eyes sparkled.

  Behind the back of my hand, I whispered, “I’m trying to impress you.”

  Kat studied my face. “How did you get a reservation for tonight?”

  “Pulled out the big gun.”

  “Which is?”

  “I dropped my mom’s name.”

  “Hmmm, you submit stories using a nom de plume to make it on your own, but for tonight, you used your mom’s notoriety for little ol’ me.”

  “Not the right phrase when it comes to you.”

  Kat peered down at her breasts.

  “I wasn’t going there. The phrase suggests you’re inferior to other parts of my life. You aren’t,” I spoke as directly as possible.

  “Careful, Cori. Or I may start to think you’re falling for me.” She wore the most gorgeous smile.

  I smiled back. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to ponder.”

  Kat snapped her fingers. “That’s how she knew your name.”

  “Who?”

  “The hostess.”

  “Hold on. Did you think I slept with her in the past or something to secure this table?” I waved to the cozy spot, a stand behind Kat’s head with a large vase and flower arrangement.

  Her nostrils actually flared.

  My jaw dropped. “Kat Finn! You think I was that much of a cad in the past? Not to mention implying I would call a former one-night stand in order to impress another girl. Honestly, now I don’t know if I should be impressed or suspicious.”

  “In my defense, a few nights ago, one of your former one-night stands warned me not to sleep with you. And, I won’t even mention Annie or my theory—”

  I rushed in, “Brooke didn’t mean anything. I was using her to research a character in a story, if you must know to put it to bed.” I cringed over my word choice.

  “You what?” Kat blinked excessively, her mouth slightly agape.

  “I…” How could I justify that?

  Kat, much to my surprise, started laughing, her shoulders heaving up and down. “That does make me feel loads better.”

  “How in the world does that help? I mean, it even sounded horrible to me once I said it out loud, and I’ve known all along.”

  “Because a part of me really thought you had been a major player.” Her lip twisted up on the left side as if she was trying not to smile. “But, you had a one-night stand to channel a player, because you have no idea what it’s like. Do I have that right? The character you wanted to get inside of was Desirae? The Don Juan, or I should say Juanita, in the latest story you submitted?”

  I nodded, but moved on to the more important point. “So, you don’t think I’m an asshole for sleeping with Brooke?”

  “I’m pretty sure she got what she wanted. Short term, at least. How did you two leave it… afterward?”

  I explained the night, including Brooke’s freak-out Catholic episode.

  Kat laughed. “Oh, Cori. I wish I’d been there to see the expression on your face.”

  Antoine appeared, wearing black slacks with a crease that could slice bread and a spotless white shirt that could more than likely stand on its own.

  Kat flashed her most beguiling smile. “Just the person I need. We have a problem. Neither of us knows a thing about wine. What do you recommend?”

  Antoine soaked in every word Kat uttered. “Let me take care of it, madam. The chef has prepared a special meal for this evening.” He kissed his fingertips with a loud smooching sound. Turning on his heel, he marched away as if on the most important mission of his life.

  “The chef has made us a special meal,” Kat said. “You really are trying to impress me.”

  “Is it working? Aside from the whole hostess and Brooke misunderstandings?” I sipped my water.

  Kat’s stockinged foot perched on my chair between my legs. “It might be.”

  I massaged her foot. “Don’t worry. I told them you’re allergic to lobster.”

  “I am not!”

  “No?” I dug my fingers into the bottom of her foot. “Must be my other date I have lined up for later. It’s so hard, as Boston’s notorious lesbian player, to keep track.”

  “I hope the chef serves you duck so you can’t eat a thing.”

  “Is that right? I can think of something else I can munch on while you enjoy your lobster-free dinner.” I hoisted up the tablecloth. “I think there’s room for me under here. Have you ever come while eating in a fancy restaurant?”

  “That one track mind of yours could quite possibly ruin the night.”

  “Is that why you’re grinding your foot into my pussy?” I glanced down at my lap.

  “I’m sorry. Does that belong to you?” She smiled coquettishly.

  “Not for months and quite possibly never again. Not entirely, at least.”

  “Now that sounds promising.” Her foot stilled but stayed put.

  Antoine appeared with a bottle of white wine. “Chardonnay,” he said as if that was the only kind of wine anyone should ever drink. Usually, I hated places where the staff took themselves way too seriously. Tonight, though, I marveled over Kat’s glee. She may have grown up in one of Boston’s most exclusive neighborhoods, but it was apparent she’d been sheltered.

  Kat watched with interest as he uncorked the bottle and then offered her a sample. She sipped it and nodded. Antoine topped off her glass and filled mine. “Your appetizer will be out shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Kat purred.

  With head bowed and hands behind his back, he left.

  I raised my glass. “To you.”

  “To us,” she countered.

  “To us,” I echoed.

  Kat smiled. “What else do you have up your sleeve for tonight?”

&n
bsp; “I have a few ideas.”

  “Such as?”

  “You’re like a kid on Christmas morning.” I set down my glass. “Rumor has it you think you can dance.”

  “Dinner and dancing. Maybe you should make all the decisions when it comes to planning dates.”

  “What decisions does that leave for you?”

  She patted my hand. “The important ones.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do all the girls fall for your routine?”

  “You are.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Clever.”

  Kat batted her eyelashes.

  I threaded my fingers through hers.

  When the waiter reappeared, I didn’t release Kat’s hand.

  Kat craned her neck to see the offerings.

  Antoine set the dishes down and went on to explain what was what. “Boursin stuffed mushrooms, scotch quail egg on a spring salad, caramelized apple and blue cheese crostini, beet-pickled deviled eggs with horseradish, beet and cauliflower puree tartlettes, and grilled zucchini ribbon salad.”

  Antoine topped off Kat’s glass, although it didn’t need it.

  “I think he likes you,” I said after he departed.

  “Who?”

  “Good answer.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re the jealous type.”

  “I can be, but I know you aren’t the wandering type.”

  “One hundred percent true!” She punctuated the sentence with an exaggerated dip of her head.

  “It better be,” I teased, instinctually knowing it was.

  Kat ignored me. “These are so cute.” She started with a stuffed mushroom, groaning in delight. Covering her mouth with a palm, she mumbled around a bite, “You have to try one.”

  I reached for one, only to have my hand slapped away. “Allow me.” Kat placed it on my tongue, which wanted to sample something else. “Have you ever come in a restaurant?” She threw my earlier question back at me.

  “Keep feeding me and I may.”

  “That can be arranged.” She arched her right eyebrow in such a way, causing a spurt down under.

  I gathered my composure. “This isn’t solely about me.” I fed her crostini.

  “Have you heard of naked dining?”

  “As in breakfast in bed?”