Fall in Love

by Anthology

  My cell phone rings. I don’t answer it. The front door bangs again, hard enough to shake the hinges. I gather a breath and go to the foyer, where Kelsey is standing with one hand on the doorknob and the other on her hip.

  “Let him in, Kelsey, or your neighbors are going to call the police.”

  “I’m not letting him in.” She holds out her hand. “Give me your cell.”

  I pull my phone from my pocket and give it to her. She dials a number and waits, tapping her foot impatiently. The thumping on the door stops.

  “Dean, shut the fuck up, okay?” Kelsey snaps into the phone. “I’m not letting you in. Liv is here, she’s safe, and you both need to cool down before you talk. Got it? So quit banging on my goddamn door like you’re storming a castle. Go home, take a cold shower, have a drink, and call Liv tomorrow.”

  I can hear Dean’s angry voice through the phone, but can’t make out what he’s saying.

  Kelsey gives a long-suffering sigh. “Dean, I’m not unlocking the door. Liv doesn’t want to talk to you right now. And if you don’t leave her alone, I’ll call the cops. Don’t think I won’t. How do you think the university will react when they hear that distinguished Professor West was arrested for acting like an ass?”

  He’s still yelling at her, but Kelsey ends the call and hands me the phone. “Keep it off. Let him yell at voicemail.”

  She puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me back to the kitchen. We both wait a few minutes, but there’s no more noise. Kelsey pushes my wineglass back in front of me as we sit down at the counter again.

  “God, now we all need a drink,” she mutters, downing half her wine in one swallow. “How’d he know you were here?”

  “Probably an educated guess when he realized I’d taken his car.”

  “Okay. So talk to me, Liv.” Kelsey stares at me from behind her glasses, as if knowing I have no defense against her penetrating blue gaze.

  Which I absolutely do not.

  With a groan, I cross my arms on the counter and thunk my head against them. “Oh, Kelsey, I fucked things up bad.”

  Admitting it to her makes my tears swell like a tidal wave. All the pain and anger of the past few weeks boils up inside me. I start sobbing so hard that I can’t hear what Kelsey is saying, but she stays beside me, stroking my back and letting me cry.

  When the tears finally ease a little, I lift my head and swipe at my eyes.

  Kelsey hands me a tissue. “Don’t get snot on my counter.”

  “Sorry.” I scrub at my cheeks and blow my nose.

  Kelsey props her chin on her hand. “So you kissed another man.”

  “Yeah. Big mistake, obviously.”

  “Dean said you liked it.”

  I look at her. “He told you that?”

  “You’re surprised? You told him that, apparently.”

  I groan and bury my face in my hands. “You know how bad things were, Kelsey. I was… I don’t know. The whole thing was so screwed up, and then with the pregnancy scare… Dean’s the only one I ever wanted, and then we had this big fight… and Tyler was just there. He was nice and he liked me and it was so simple compared to the mess going on with Dean.”

  I gulp down another wave of sobs.

  “He’s cute, too,” Kelsey says.

  “What?”

  “Tyler. The chef.” Kelsey takes another sip of wine. “Not all hunky and masculine like Dean, but adorable. Can’t say I blame you for wanting to kiss him.”

  “Kelsey, you’re not helping.”

  “I’m not trying to. I’m telling you the truth.” She sets her glass down and looks at me. “So you told Dean, and he’s still pissed.”

  I nod and rub my finger over a line in the granite countertop. I can’t tell Kelsey anything else. Not about how Dean is the only person who has made me feel safe, protected, and unconditionally loved… until now.

  I can’t tell her that our recent troubles have tilted my entire world off its axis. I can’t tell her that for the past four months, I’ve been terrified. That I haven’t been so scared in years.

  “Why did you leave him?” Kelsey asks. “What did he say?”

  “He won’t let it go,” I admit. “You saw how he acted at the art fair, like he was ready to beat Tyler into the floor. He’s still so mad. And I don’t know what to do to make it go away.”

  “So he’s not so much upset about the actual kiss as the fact that you liked it,” Kelsey says. “Well, he’s a guy. You’re his woman. I can see how that’d be a hard blow to his ego. I’m sure he’s entirely forgotten that he’s capable of being attracted to other women.”

  “I don’t think he’s forgotten that. He just wouldn’t act on it.”

  Kelsey leans her head on her hand and narrows her gaze. “Look, Liv, you made a mistake. You admitted it. You’re sorry. You’ve tried to make it right. And frankly, I think you’ve done all you can.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. The ball’s in his court.” She pours more wine into her glass. “Dean is older and more experienced than you. A lot more experienced. He’s known other women. He knows you. He just hasn’t grasped yet that you needed to feel something for another guy to realize just how much you love him.”

  I stare at the light reflecting off the wineglass.

  “I don’t think he’ll ever understand that,” I say. “I barely understand it myself.”

  “Look. Dean’s had a lot of girlfriends. A lot of experience with women. He’s been loved, he’s loved them. He’s been hurt, he’s hurt them. He had all the highs and lows before he met you. So since meeting you, he’s never looked back. He never had to. He knew you were the one for him, and that was it.”

  Kelsey swivels around to face me.

  “You, on the other hand,” she says, “were totally thrown off by Dean’s reluctance about a baby.”

  Not to mention his revelation about his ex-wife. I don’t know if he would ever tell Kelsey about that. I certainly won’t.

  “It’s no surprise you started doubting both Dean and your marriage,” she continues. “It’s no surprise you started wondering what it might have been like with another man.”

  “I didn’t wonder…” My heart plummets. “Oh, hell.”

  Kelsey’s mouth curves in triumph. “It’s okay, Liv. Dean’s never had to wonder about other women because he went through it all before he met you. You didn’t. And this whole recent fuck-up just meant you had to figure out now what Dean already knows.”

  “God, Kelsey.” I rest my head in my hands. “Why aren’t you a psychologist?”

  “Because my friends are the only people I give a damn about.”

  She collects our glasses and heads to the sink. I’m quiet for a minute as I try to process everything she’s said.

  “Will you please explain all that to Dean?” I ask.

  “Hah.” Kelsey rolls her eyes again. “He’s a man. He’ll give me a blank stare, tell me I’m full of shit, then go off to pummel a punching bag.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?”

  She squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll get it sooner or later.”

  I’m not so sure of that. Fatigue settles hard in my bones.

  “Is it okay if I stay here awhile?” I ask. “Just a day or… a year or so.”

  She smiles. “You know you can stay as long as you need to. I even have a quilt you can use.”

  She brushes her hand over my very tangled hair. “It’ll be okay, Liv. And you know I love Dean, but this mess is his fault too. You’ve done what you can, and if your husband doesn’t get his shit together fast, I’m coming down on him like an anvil.”

  *

  The following day there’s one message on my phone from Dean. His voice is tense. “Liv, this is between us, not Kelsey. You tell me when you want to talk.”

  I don’t call him back right away because I don’t yet know what to say, but I listen to the message three times. Dean probably does
n’t even realize how those two sentences encompass so much.

  Everything we’ve ever been through has only been between us. And once again, Dean is giving me the choice of determining what happens next.

  After having breakfast with Kelsey, who thankfully does not mention Dean, I head to the bookstore for the Sunday morning shift. Allie is busy planning a kids’ holiday and cookie-decorating party.

  “I thought we could also have some craft stations where kids can make menorahs and Christmas ornaments and stuff,” she says as she peers at the computer. “Then we’ll have storytime, of course, and I’ll put up a display of holiday books. Think you can advertise this at the Historical Museum? Like if you get some school tour groups?”

  “Sure. I’ll print out flyers and bring them with me tomorrow.”

  Allie glances at me as I straighten the boxed calendars in front of the counter. “You okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “You look kind of tired.”

  “Oh, just holiday stress or whatever.” I wave my hand dismissively.

  “Sure that’s all it is?” Her eyes narrow behind her purple-framed glasses.

  “Yeah.” Her scrutiny makes me uneasy. “Why?”

  “I was wondering if you’re… you know.” Her voice lowers to a loud whisper. “Preggers.”

  Shock bolts through me so fast I grab the edge of the counter to steady myself. “What?”

  “Well, remember we were talking about having kids?” Allie says. “And I’ve seen you looking at the pregnancy books. I figured you and Professor Hottie were trying to get pregnant.” She tosses me a grin. “God knows I’d be trying three times a day if he were involved.”

  There’s a lump in my throat. I can’t even respond. Dean and I haven’t talked about the idea of a baby for weeks. The topic has disappeared into the mess of everything else.

  “No,” I finally manage. “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Allie stares at me. “Oh shit, Liv, did I put my foot in it? You’re not having fertility issues, are you? Because my sister had to take these shots for a while, but you know, now she has three kids and they drive her crazy but they’re all adorable and perfect and she and her husband are happier than ever.”

  I laugh, even as tears sting my eyes suddenly. I go around the counter and give Allie a big hug, which she returns with a hint of puzzlement.

  “What’s this for?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. I’m just really glad you’re my friend.”

  She smiles, pleased. “Thanks. You’re pretty great too. Now get back to work before I ask you to the prom.”

  “Hey, speaking of dating, how’s it going with Brent?” I ask.

  “Really well,” Allie says. “He even invited me to visit his parents on Christmas Day. They live down in Rainwood, so we’re going to see my dad in the morning and Brent’s parents in the afternoon.”

  “Where does your dad live?”

  “Here in town. He’s got a place on the other side of the lake. He’s a nutjob but I love him. He’s the one who convinced me to open a bookstore. He’s all about following your bliss and voodoo stuff like that.”

  “What would you have done if you hadn’t opened the bookstore?” I ask.

  “I dunno. I was an art major in college. Again not because it was the practical thing to do, but because my dad convinced me I should do what I wanted to do.”

  “I didn’t know you were an artist.”

  “I’m not. Catastrophic failures at several art shows convinced me of that.” She gives me a rueful look. “Hence the bookstore. Which now isn’t doing so great either.”

  “You’ll think of a way to turn things around,” I say. “You just need a different angle.”

  Allie shrugs and turns back to the computer. “Yeah, well, if you fall seven times, you get up eight, right?”

  Right.

  I head out around noon and walk to where I parked Dean’s car at the curb. Sunlight glints off the shallow piles of snow lining Emerald Street, and the sky arches clear and blue overhead. As I wait for the engine to warm up, I finally work up the courage to call him.

  “What do you want me to do, Liv?” he asks.

  My heart pounds. “I think we should go to counseling again.”

  His breath escapes on a hiss, but he says, “Fine.”

  I blink. “Fine?”

  “Yeah, I’ll go with you, if that’s what it takes.”

  The tension in my shoulders eases. I know Dean hates counseling, finds it uncomfortable and awkward. He doesn’t like the personal questions, the expectation that he’s supposed to rehash everything about his life—stuff he’s long done with. But he’s gone before for my sake, and the fact that he just agreed now gives me a surge of hope.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll call Dr. Anderson and ask if she can refer me to someone in the area.”

  “Okay.” He pauses. “I want to see you.”

  “I want to see you too, but I think we both need a few days apart.”

  The air on the other end of the phone vibrates with irritation. “What did Kelsey say to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did she tell you not to see me?”

  “Kelsey doesn’t tell me what to do, Dean. I can make my own decisions about us.”

  “I know she told you something. What was it?”

  His irritation bites at my own nerves. “We figured out that between this mess about a baby and your revelation about an ex-wife, it’s no surprise I wondered what things would be like with another man.”

  His curse is so sharp that my stomach roils.

  “You told her about Helen?” he snaps.

  “Of course not.” I know I should stop, that this is unfair, that this will only hurt us more, but I’m suddenly flooded with images of Dean and another woman.

  “No one ever talks about Helen, do they?” I ask acidly. “Not even you.”

  “Goddammit, Liv.”

  I take a breath and try to fight the churning emotions. I can’t stop the painful thoughts still whipping around my mind like a tornado.

  I gave you everything I am. Why couldn’t you do the same for me?

  “I’ll call you later this week.” It’s all I can manage to say before ending the call. I shove my phone into my satchel and head back to Kelsey’s house.

  She comes home shortly before dinner after having stopped in at her office, ranting about some grad student who is doing a poor job with his computer modeling.

  She changes into a caftan, then pours herself a glass of wine. After she’s done fixing a plate of chips and salsa, she sits at the counter and gives me one of her laser-beam stares.

  “You talk to Professor Marvel today?” she asks.

  “Yeah. We agreed not to see each other for a few days.”

  She barks out a laugh. “You mean you told him you didn’t want to see him for a few days and he got all hot under the collar again.”

  I groan and press my fingers against my temples. She pats my shoulder.

  “He’s a guy, Liv,” she reminds me. “One who is very accustomed to getting what he wants.”

  I know that all too well. I reach over to help myself to one of her chips.

  “Hey, Kelsey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you ever do anything with Dean?”

  She glances at me. “Would it bug you if I did?”

  I’ve never thought about it before, but I don’t have to. I don’t like to think about Dean with his many former women—and I really hate even the idea of his ex-wife—but Kelsey is different.

  She’s my best friend too, and she’s gold throughout even if she can flatten you with her stare alone. If I weren’t around, I’d want Dean to be with her.

  “No,” I say. “I’m just curious.”

  “No.” Kelsey piles a chip with salsa and pops it into her mouth. “Dean and I have never done anything.”

  “Not ev
en in college?” I ask.

  “I was into girls in college.”

  This is news to me. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Call it my experimental phase. Lasted two years.”

  “So what… uh, what made you go back to guys?”

  “Oh, a couple of studs my senior year, then a long-term boyfriend in grad school.” Kelsey flips her hair away from her face and reaches for her wineglass. “Great guy, smart as hell. Great sex too. Made me realize I preferred hard muscles and harder dicks.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He wanted to get married, which obviously wasn’t my thing. Plus I got a job offer and we went our separate ways.”

  She shakes her head. “Nah, Liv. Dean’s one helluva package, but we’d never screw up our friendship. And we’d be lousy together anyway. Always snarking at each other and fighting like dogs over who gets to be on top.”

  It’s true Dean and I haven’t had that problem before now. We just took turns.

  I reach for another chip, then drop it. I sigh and climb off the barstool.

  “Hey.” Kelsey nudges me with her elbow. A crease forms between her eyebrows. “You guys will get through this.”

  Two weeks ago, I would have agreed. Now I no longer know what to believe.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Dean

  December 7

  Five days without Liv pass like a black cloud. Kelsey called once to tell me Liv was fine, but that I needed to “get my shit together and fast.” I hung up on her.

  I fucking hate the empty apartment. I hate seeing all the cheery Christmas decorations that remind me of Liv. I work late, go home and crash, then leave again at six. I’ve gotten through the days on mindless autopilot—running, coffee, lectures and seminars, grant proposals, workouts.

  I don’t think about how I’ve managed to fuck everything up. I don’t think about the fact that Liv hasn’t told me when she’ll come home. If she’ll come home.

  After I’m done with classes and meetings, I head to the gym and take out my frustration on the heavy bag. On day six of Liv being gone, I’m punching the bag so hard my knuckles and arms ache. Within minutes, I’ve worked up a sweat.