by Amanda Uhl
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t look it… Did you eat breakfast?”
“Yes, of course.”
He grimaced. “Lemme guess. Grapefruit?”
“And a latte,” I said proudly.
He quirked a brow. “Oh well, that counts.”
I had the strangest urge to run my hand over his face and smooth away the wrinkles like the sheets on my bed in the morning. “I’m okay. Let me up.”
“All right, but take it slow. No sudden movements.”
I did as he asked, gradually raising onto my arms and getting up and into the chair Charlie helped me into.
The waiters hovered solicitously. One had a wet towel and the other, a glass of ice water. Charlie grasped the towel and pressed it on the back of my neck with one hand and grabbed the glass of water with the other. He held it to my lips. “Here, drink this.”
I obediently took a sip. “I’m okay. Really.”
How to tell the man that the pressure of his strong hand against my neck and the smell of his cologne was going to send me into a faint all over again? Thankfully, he took me at my word and removed the towel and set it next to my plate. He eyed me with suspicion. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, relieved when he finally walked back to his side of the table and sat. “God, what a self-centered ass I am. I’m sorry, Val. I could kick myself. I should have held my tongue.”
“No, I’m…I’m glad you told me.”
Charlie held one hand across his heart. Was it pounding as hard as mine? “Not another word until you finish your pasta. I can’t go through that again.”
I dutifully consumed all my fettuccini, along with the remainder of the bread and butter in the basket on our table. I admit, I felt much better afterward. I looked up from my plate, catching the concerned and watchful look on Charlie’s face. What exactly was he thinking? I didn’t want his pity.
He wasn’t saying, probably for fear of having me pass out again. He asked to drive me home, but I insisted he take me back to the office. I had to see Bernie. I had known right along, hadn’t I? I’d avoided the truth like a child who puts the covers over their head for fear of the dark. I preferred the safety of not knowing over the trauma of having to see the monster. There was no going back now. The blankets had been ripped away and the monster…well, the monster wasn’t as hideous as I’d feared.
By the time we got back to the office, it was nearly three. Good thing I was hanging with the boss.
“Val, I think you should sleep on it before you talk to George.”
I looked at Charlie. He had deposited me safely in my cube but remained at my desk hovering, shirt wrinkled, hair disheveled, face concerned. He sighed. “I…I do hope you work things out with George.”
I felt numb, empty, like a discarded, empty water bottle, drained of all emotion. “Thank you.”
Charlie nodded, hesitated, sighed again, opened his mouth, closed it again. Whatever he wanted to say was left unsaid. I could only be grateful.
“Charlie…I…I’m glad you told me. I needed to know. I hope I would have done the same if our positions were reversed.”
“Would you? You’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”
What did the man mean? I must have looked puzzled because he gave me a wry smile and shrugged. “I’m not so sure my motives were altruistic.”
All-true-is-tic? Math was my strong point. English, not as much. I would have to look it up. If only I knew how to spell it.
I nodded as if I understood, and I must have been convincing because I watched as he walked away. I sniffed the air. His unique scent lingered in his wake. I held my arm up to my nose. Or perhaps it was on me.
I forced my thoughts to my present dilemma, took a brief moment to collect myself, and went to find Bernie. She was not in her cube, any of the conferences rooms, or in the cafeteria. I knew she was on the premises, though, because her laptop was still in her office. That left one place I hadn’t checked.
At Reynolds, the ladies room really was a ladies’ room. There was a separate nursing station, a makeup center where you could freshen up, several sleek, cream-colored couches, and a shiny black coffee table in an outer room with the latest issue of People Magazine. Bernie was sitting on one of the couches, head in her hands, body curled inward. I sat next to her. “I guessed I might find you in here.”
Bernie raised her head and looked at me, but she did not seem startled. It appeared she had been waiting for me to find her.
I took a breath. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable. “You have feelings for…for George?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a whisper. She cleared her throat, and when she next spoke, her voice was a little louder. “I’m sorry. I tried to deny it. I didn’t want to…to…love him. But you see, George is… You have a wonderful man in George. He’s kind, caring, compassionate. Over the past few weeks, he’s made me see things in a new light. Oh God.”
Bernie covered her eyes with her hands. Her whole face shook. She was crying. Great, big racking sobs.
I put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Does…does George have feelings for you?” I asked.
She looked at me and shook her head sadly. Tears ran down her face. “I…I don’t know. He’s a loyal man. None of this is George’s fault. It’s…it’s mine. I don’t blame you if you never want to…to speak to me again.” She hiccupped.
I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst. “What exactly…happened…between the two of you? You weren’t…you didn’t…”
“Oh God, no, nothing like that.” Bernie gripped my arm. “I swear the only thing that happened is…I…I kissed him. He didn’t really kiss me back. Well, maybe only a little. It wasn’t a long kiss, but someone must have seen us. Whoever it was called you and…you know the rest.”
I frowned. I had expected to feel the pain of hurt and betrayal at Bernie’s words. I knew I should be, at a minimum, angry. But oddly, the great bubble welling up inside me was one of…relief? I was not shocked or angry or jealous. I didn’t even have the urge to slap Bernie silly, which is what I’d wanted to do to Deirdre more than once after I discovered she’d stolen Seth. On the contrary. No, what I wanted to do was reach out and hug her. Bernie kissing George was unexpectedly freeing. Until that moment, I had not realized the burden George’s expectations and his parents’ expectations had set for me. After all, I was a product of my mother and father, who were free-spirited. I wasn’t used to all the familial requirements. Help George with the shop. Wait until he’s ready to marry you. Pray before meals. Go to church on Sunday. Take care of Elias. Take a loan. Wait to have sex until marriage. Have children.
God, what a fool I’d been. What a fool we’d both been. George…George didn’t love me. His mother loved me. She liked the fact that I adopted her ways, rarely talked back, and allowed her to dictate. She loved that my maternal grandfather had been half Lebanese. She liked that I took yoga with her and was willing to quit my job and marry George or wait, whatever she thought was best.
Bernie was right. George was kind, caring, compassionate. All those things. But George…George was also my security blanket. He and his family had kept me sane at a time when I wasn’t sure who to count on or who to trust. But I had grown beyond the need for a blanket. I wanted…I needed so much more. No wonder my pulse raced every time I looked at Charlie. I needed sparks in the air, open shirts and tantalizing flesh. I needed revealing conversations and unexpected tears. I needed passionate encounters with breathtakingly, handsome men in unusual places. I needed…I needed Charlie.
“Bernie, it’s okay,” I said. And I meant every blessed word.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time I reassured Bernie I was not angry and deposited her at her cube, it was nearly five. We agreed George and I needed to talk, so I texted him to meet me at my apartment as soon as he could. I was in the elevator when my cell buzzed. George? I checked the number, but it wasn’t one I recognized. “Hello.”
The elevator opened, and I got off on the first floor.
“Where’ve you been?” Charlie sounded none too happy.
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzling over the angry tone of his voice. It’d only been a few hours since I’d passed out on the man over lunch, and he’d been all concern then. What had happened since to get him all worked up? “I’ve been here…at work. I’m heading out now.” I made my way to the parking lot and used my keys to find my car.
“No, you’ve been holed up in the restroom for nearly two hours. If you ask me, you’re taking this dieting thing to an extreme.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t sick. I was talking to Bernie.”
There was a momentary pause. “About George?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?” I asked.
“Oh for God’s sake, did Bernie and George have a fling?”
“I suppose it depends on your definition of a fling.” I don’t know why, but I found I was beginning to enjoy myself.
“C’mon, Val. This isn’t rocket science. Did they sleep together?”
“No.”
“Are you sure Bernie’s telling the truth?”
“Of course. Bernie wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
“So who was George at the game with?”
“No one. George wasn’t at the game.” I giggled.
“He wasn’t… Val, what the hell’s going on? What’s so damn amusing? Your fiancé is lying to you about his whereabouts, and you…you’re laughing?”
I tried to stop the snicker from spewing forth from my lips and failed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long, stressful day. According to Bernie, she and George had an argument. She wanted George to build a website and a Facebook page and use it to schedule the opening day event. He preferred to wait until after the launch when he’d have more time to focus on his online presence. The argument became heated. George yelled a few choice words and stormed out of the store. Bernie chased after him. They argued in the street. When she finally got him to see reason, she kissed him. She couldn’t help it.”
I started my car and pulled out of the lot.
“She couldn’t…? Why the hell are you happy?”
I grinned. “Because Bernie’s in love. With George. It’s perfect. They’re perfect. Don’t you see?”
Charlie grumbled through the phone, but his voice had lost its angry edge. Amusement laced his words. “I’m beginning to see Bernie’s not the only one who’s lost her marbles. I suppose you’re off to drink a toast to your lost love with George?”
I frowned. “Something like that. Bernie doesn’t know how George feels. Apparently, after they kissed he thrust her away from him and wouldn’t talk to her. He said he needed a drink, made a phone call, and fled to the Q Hall with Elias. George must have left before you got there. Bernie went home. She wasn’t going to tell me about the kiss. She didn’t want to hurt me. But then I got the anonymous phone call. She’s been torn up inside ever since, feeling horribly guilty because she kissed my fiancé, believing she destroyed George’s and my chance for happiness.”
“But she didn’t. Because you don’t love George, and you believe George doesn’t love you.”
I couldn’t keep the wide smile from spreading across my face. I liked a man who was able to put two and two together quickly and come up with the right explanation. “Exactly.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?” Maybe Charlie wasn’t as smart as I gave him credit for. “Don’t you see? I don’t love George. I thought I did. But I wasn’t in love with him. I wanted what George represented. Security, safety, family. I thought if I had all those things, I would be happy. But I wasn’t happy. I was…bored…and…and…restless. The closer we got to launching the business and planning our wedding, the more I found myself looking for excitement outside of George. Hell, I practically thrust Bernie onto George, asking her to step in for me and help him out all the time. I must have known, subconsciously of course, they’d be perfect together.”
I waited patiently for Charlie to agree with me, but he didn’t say anything. “Well?”
“What?
“Oh come on, Charlie. Do you agree they’d be perfect together? You haven’t been shy about voicing your opinion up until this point.”
Charlie’s sigh was audible through the phone, causing me to sit up straight and brace my head against the headrest.
“Can I ask you a question?”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I was right about this. I knew I was. “What?”
“Are you absolutely certain George is not in love with you?”
“Yes, of course.” I was quick to answer. “I mean, no, I’m not absolutely sure. But I’m confident… I mean I’m fairly certain… I mean… God, why do you always do this to me? Make me question what I’m thinking and feeling. George and Bernie are perfect for one another. End of story.”
“That’s what I thought. You haven’t thought this out and you don’t know. Be prepared. I have a feeling your puppy dog has stronger feelings than you know. Listen, I have to run. But I’d like to know where this leads. Call me on this number after you and George have talked and fill me in.”
I shrugged. “All right. I’ll call you later.”
We hung up at the same time I pulled into my apartment complex. George’s green Jeep Wrangler was parked outside. I took a deep breath. Charlie was wrong. George wasn’t in love with me. Was he?
When I opened the door, George was there to greet me, his shoulders slumped, hands in his pockets. He had on a pair of black Levi’s and a white, button-down shirt. His work uniform. He must have come straight from the barbershop. “I got here as soon as I could. What did you want to talk about?”
I set my purse on the hook by the door and slipped my shoes off. No sense being uncomfortable. I had a feeling we’d be here a while. “How about a glass of wine?”
George nodded, and I went to the kitchen to fill two glasses with White Zinfandel from a half-empty bottle in the fridge. He followed me and held the glasses while I poured.
“Is everything okay?”
I took a sip of the bubbly liquid and gestured to the dining room. “Let’s grab a seat on the big comfy couch.”
George nodded and preceded me to my red couch, where he sat with a large sigh. We stayed that way a moment, knees touching and noses in our wineglasses. George reached an arm out and pulled me to his side. He kissed the top of my forehead. For a moment, I let myself revel in the normalcy of it all. But I knew I couldn’t avoid the conversation altogether. I sat up and set my glass on the table. “George, I know about the kiss. Bernie told me.”
George’s body stiffened, but when I looked at him, he didn’t seem particularly surprised. He scooted the magazines on the coffee table over so that he could set his wineglass down beside them. He turned toward me, lifting one leg underneath him on the couch, and gripped both my hands in his. “Val, that was…an accident. It was so quick, it almost didn’t happen. You know how crazy I get when I’m around Bernie. One second we were arguing, the next she was chasing me out to the street and shouting in my ear. I swear I opened my mouth to take a breath and she…she kissed me. But it didn’t mean anything. I think she did it to shut me up.”
“Oh, George. Of course it meant something.” I took a deep breath. “Bernie doesn’t just kiss random men and especially not ones she doesn’t like. She kissed you because she has feelings for you.”
George let go of my hands like he had been burned and stood so suddenly that, for a moment, I thought he was having a heart attack. He passed a hand over his chest and dropped it to his side. “She can’t have feelings for me. God, what a nightmare. I shouldn’t have let her get under my skin. If I would have kept my cool, none of this would have happened. We wouldn’t have been spotted by some meddling bystander who happened to know you. I mean, of all the incredible things to have happen.”
George was right. He and Bernie couldn’t have
been out on the street long. It seemed an unlikely coincidence someone I knew would pass by at the exact moment they exchanged a smooch. Could someone have been spying? And for what purpose?
George picked up his wineglass and downed the contents. He plopped on the couch next to me. “I’m sorry this happened. You have to believe me. I’d do anything to take it back if I could. Do you forgive me?”
“Of course I do. There’s nothing to forgive. George, what happened between you and Bernie, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. But now it’s all clear. You two are meant for each other.”
“No! No, we aren’t. We’d be more apt to strangle each other. She doesn’t like my mother, she always has an opinion, and she doesn’t understand why I don’t give in and agree with every sentence that rolls off her tongue. If I let her, she’d take over. You think that makes us compatible?”
“Bernie’s a strong woman, George. She’s not afraid to stand up to you or your mom and dad or anyone else when she believes she’s right. She wants a family, like you. She’s smart, and caring, and she loves your cooking.”
“She does? When did she tell you that?”
“When she tasted your layali lubnan.”
George took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. I took that as a good sign and pressed on. “Maybe you’re not ready to admit you and Bernie are perfect together. That’s okay. But…I don’t believe you’re in love with me.”
I waited for George to see reason. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit what I knew in my heart to be true. But George was silent. He polished his glasses with his cotton T-shirt, held it up to the light, polished again. Finally, he spoke. All the while, he looked at his glasses and not at me.
“Who is he?”
“What? Who is who?”
“Whoever it is who has you convinced I’m not in love with you.”
“That’s not… There is no one like that.”
“Are you sure?” Now George was looking at me. His dark eyes held mine and would not let go. I was the first to look away.