Wait for It

by Mariana Zapata

  I snickered and gestured toward my station. “Stop.”

  Dallas walked ahead of me saying, “Or right at the spot where my hair and ear meet. Triple.”

  That had me laughing like everything was fine and there hadn’t been any kisses between us. “Get in the chair. I don’t promise those kind of happy endings.”

  He chuckled as he sank into the chair, his forearms resting on the arms. I shook out a cape and draped it over his chest when he asked, “What kind of places are you going to that give people happy endings, huh?”

  “The same kind of places you do, since you know what I’m talking about.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  My fingers were on the nape of his neck, attaching the separate pieces of Velcro together to hold the cape to him when he tipped his head back just enough for me to mostly see his eyes. “I don’t go to those kinds of places.”

  Dear Jesus. I coughed. “Oh?”

  He was still watching me as he whispered just loud enough for me to hear, “My hand is just as good as any other.”

  God help me. God help me. God help me. God help me.

  He’d just said what I thought he’d said. His hand. On him. Once the mental image of Dallas naked on his bed with his hand on himself—long and thick, because I’d felt that thing against me and there had been no mistaking it for anything except what it was—filled my head, picturing him stroking over and over again, up and down, a twist here and there, squeezing and pulling… there was no going back. There was absolutely no going back. Not now, not ever.

  There was no way that my thoughts weren’t written all over my face. I could feel it go hot. I could feel myself get all bent out of shape into so many loops and spirals there was no straightening me out.

  Dallas jerking was going to be in my head tonight and every night for a really long time.

  Or always, a little voice in my head warned.

  A big hand reached out to wrap its fingers around my wrist, and he pulled on it gently. “How can I miss you so much when I just saw you yesterday?”

  I sucked in a breath and darted my eyes up to his face to find him watching me carefully, that gentle, soft smile of his aimed right at me with so much honesty and openness I forgot how to think.

  But the second I was able to, I remembered Vanessa’s words. And I remembered what I had stayed up all night thinking about. And I remembered what I had decided.

  Life could be brutally short, and happiness was never guaranteed.

  There were so many things I wish I could have told my brother before he died—how much he’d meant to me, how much I loved him, and how I would try to be someone he could be proud of. I had made plenty of mistakes in my life; I just didn’t want to continue making choices that would lead to regrets.

  And it was with that knowledge—with thinking about Rodrigo’s short and brilliant life and how much he had loved me and his sons—that I went for it. I asked him, “Do you like me?”

  It sounded just as middle school as it should have, but I didn’t give a single shit. How the hell else could I have asked?

  Dallas blinked and his teeth went to bite his bottom lip. His eyebrows went up a millimeter, and he let out a slow breath through his mouth. “I wouldn’t call it ‘like.’” The fingers he had around my wrist loosened and trailed down to my hand. Spreading those fingers apart, he linked those long, strong digits through mine.

  Dallas was holding my hand.

  He was holding my hand as he said, “You told me you were a little in love with me, do you remember?”

  How could I forget?

  “But I wouldn’t use ‘little’ to describe what I feel for you, Diana. I think you know that already.”

  It was my turn to blink. I squeezed our palms together. “So I’m not imagining it?” I pretty much whispered.

  “No, baby, you’re not.” Dallas squeezed my fingers between his.

  I dropped about four F-bombs in my head as I stood there, not trusting my words. Or his.

  And he must have known that because he didn’t wait for me to open my mouth. “I’m your poor bastard and you know it.” He kept tugging on my arm until I stood in front of him, the front of one of my thighs touching his kneecap.

  There went another dozen S-bombs and M-bombs as every nerve in my spine lit up like a pinball machine.

  Without thinking about what would be the best thing to say next, I made my gaze meet his, like I had every other time we discussed things, and I asked, “Are you sure?”

  Dallas was the most constant man I had ever met in my life. His patience, steadfastness, and determination covered every inch of his entire being as he smiled at me. “Positive.” His eyes went from one of mine to the other, even and patient. “Of all the houses you could’ve bought, you got the one across the street from me. Of all the sports Josh might have played, it was baseball and I happened to coach his age group. You were meant to be in my life.”

  Those hazel irises went so tender my heart hurt. His whisper didn’t help any. “I know you love me.”

  It was one thing to admit it to myself but a completely different thing to say the words out loud. But I said them anyway. “Yeah, I do.” I breathed. “But—”

  “No buts.”

  I couldn’t help but smile a little even though it felt like my entire future—my life—depended on what happened right now. But I couldn’t stop as I looked over Dallas’s weathered, serious face. “Yes buts. You can love me, but that doesn’t have to mean anything, Dallas. What do you want from me?”

  “Everything.”

  I sucked in a breath and blinked. Out of all the ways he could have answered, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought it would be more of a “let’s date” or “be my girlfriend” or… something.

  In that way that was all him, like he knew what I was thinking and feeling, the corners of his mouth came up. But he didn’t say anything.

  “Everything. All right. Okay.”

  The corners of his mouth curled slightly, and I’d swear on my life he looked just a little nervous. Just a little. “I want you. I want your smile. Your hugs. Your love. I want your happiness.” He paused. “Every single thing.”

  Was this what being shot in the heart was supposed to feel like?

  I looked right into his eyes and I asked him, “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  His mouth stayed in the same smirking smile and he nodded. “One hundred percent.”

  “You know I’m crazy.”

  “You’re my best friend. I know you’re crazy.”

  Why that felt like the best compliment I’d ever been given, I had no idea. But I gave him a serious look. “I’m a jealous bitch, Dallas. Do you understand that? I’m not saying you can’t talk to women or other parents on the team or anything, but if you cheated on me—why are you smiling?”

  “If I cheated on you, you and Josh would kill me and bury the body somewhere no one would ever find.” He kept my story going, smiling so wide, his face had to hurt.

  I blinked at him and shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “I would never cheat on you. We live across the street from each other, so you’d never have to get jealous wondering where the hell I am or who I’m with. Coaching Josh, we’d get to spend our weekends together. See? That sounds perfect to me.”

  I was dying, slowly. Why did it feel like I was picking at threads that didn’t exist?

  His mouth perked up even more, so much he was practically beaming.

  “I have the boys, Dallas—”

  “So?”

  I hated when he used my words and tactics against me. He said the word like it was nothing. Like my worry about Josh and Lou wasn’t even a consideration into our relationship or whatever it was he wanted to have with me, and that unsettled me more than anything else he’d said before.

  As I took a step back, he let my wrist go and I turned my back to him, reaching for the clippers in one of the drawers. This was happening. This was really happening.
>
  “You told me you trusted me,” he reminded me.

  I was sure my face was pink as I turned to him, the device in my hand. It wasn’t until I was right in front of him again that he spoke up once more, his fingers reaching out to touch a spot just above my knee.

  “You can tell me anything.”

  That was what scared me. It was the truth. I’d always felt like I could tell him anything. Now more than ever that seemed terrifying.

  Like it could make me or break me.

  So I told him, looking him in the eye before I took a step that brought me so close his breath hit my forearm as I leaned over him. I started with the clippers, going over the rounded surface of his head. “You just got divorced. I know you already said you wouldn’t cheat on me and that you know exactly what you’re doing, but… I don’t… this is serious to me. I don’t like or love just anyone, Dallas. I know you can’t promise you won’t break my heart someday, but—”

  “This is serious to me too. I won’t break your heart, Diana. I’ve never been scared to work for things or wait for them. I know you, and I know that you’re it. I just had to wait to get divorced so I could do this right for you. Life is so fucking short, Peach, and I’m too old to not know and go for what I want. And you know what I want. What I’ve wanted. For a long, long time.” He paused. “You.”

  Shit, shit, shit. There was only one more thing I needed to tell him before I forgot. And it was the most important one. “Okay. I want to get married someday. I’m not saying tomorrow or six months from now, all right? And I’m not sure I want to have kids anytime soon. Can you deal with that?”

  Something nudged at my thigh. I could see the back of his hand, feel him rub his knuckles up and down. His hand drifted up another inch. He wedged his hand in more so that his palm gripped the back of my thigh. Those eyes I was more than a little in love with burned my retinas. “I’d be happy with just two boys.”

  Was I tearing up? Was that why my eyes were watery? I blinked and the tears didn’t go anywhere.

  And Dallas’s sweet expression didn’t help any. “You are the toughest person I’ve ever met, Diana, but you’re also the most vulnerable, and that drives me fucking crazy,” he said to me. He squeezed my thigh, his voice low and almost feverish. “I know you can take care of yourself, but I want to be there to help you out. I need you more than you need me, and that’s okay,” he told me.

  This man was going to be the death of me. For the seventh or eighth time in my life, I had no idea what to say or even where to start.

  That big hand squeezed. “Just like I tell the boys, we don’t play for one single run, we play to win the whole game. And I’m in it to win it.”

  I clenched my hand around the clippers. “But there’re so many other teams to play against.”

  The corners of his mouth curled, and one of the fingers on my thigh did a caressing little line. “The only team I’m ever going to worry about is the best one. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t until closing time, after Sean and I had cleaned up, while he was busy counting out the register at the end of the night because he claimed he was faster than me at it, that I went to my tip jar. But it wasn’t the bills in the blue Mason jar that caught my eye. It was what looked like a few folded pieces of paper inside that had me reaching for it.

  If someone had left me an IOU or a business card, I was going to scream.

  Turning the jar upside down, everything came out. There were dozens of papers inside, each about three inches long and one inch wide, I opened one genuinely wondering what the hell someone had put in there.

  But I knew the instant I unfolded the first one who had done it.

  Everything about you makes me smile. -Uncle Fester.

  I laughed out loud and picked up another one the instant I read the last letter of the first. Uncle Fester. Fucking Dallas. Fucking Dallas. He had no idea what he did to me. I only made it through another three before I started tearing up.

  Really. I love you. Love, Professor Xavier Before He Lost His Hair

  In all the ways that matter, you can be my #1 – (infinity). Deal? Love always, your poor bastard

  I love you. —Your born-again virgin Catholic convert, Dallas

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I was sitting on the edge of the couch, slipping my heels on when I zeroed in on Louie, who was sitting beside me on the couch dressed up in an outfit I’d found on sale around Labor Day. But it wasn’t the navy blue pants or vest he had on that caught my eye, or the fact he was matching for once in his life when he wasn’t wearing his school uniform. It was the red spot on the collar of his white shirt that had me reaching to pinch the tip of my nose.

  “Louie.”

  “Huh?” he asked, his body hunched over with a tablet on his lap as he played whatever it was he was playing.

  “Did you eat something after you changed?” I’d specifically told him not to eat anything because I knew him.

  “No,” he answered quickly, his attention still below him.

  Sliding my heel down into my nude shoe, I gave my toes a wiggle to make sure my foot was in there as deep as it would go, telling myself not to freak out over his shirt. It had been inevitable, hadn’t it? Hadn’t I known this was going to happen and tried to prevent it? With a deep breath, I glanced back at his shirt and stood up, tugging on the skirt part of my dress. “Gooey, did you get something from the fridge?”

  “Apple juice.”

  I pinched the tip of my nose again. “Did you grab the ketchup bottle by any chance?”

  He stopped playing his game to glance up and give me a curious expression. “How’d you know?”

  “Because there’s a big red stain on your shirt, Goo.”

  Louie’s hands immediately went to his chest and started patting around as he tried to find the spot. “I didn’t eat anything!”

  “I believe you,” I moaned, trying to think if he had any other dress shirts that he hadn’t out grown.

  He didn’t, and we didn’t have time to wash this one. Ginny’s wedding was in half an hour.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  It was just a shirt and he was just a kid. It wasn’t the end of the world. “It’s fine.”

  “I promise! I didn’t eat anything!”

  “I believe you. You probably just held the ketchup bottle too close to you, you sloppy mess.” I stared at him for a moment longer before telling him, “Come here. Maybe I can wipe off the worst of it with a napkin.”

  He tipped his chin down to try and see his collar. Without a warning, he poked at the button closest to his neck, tugged the material away from him and stuck his tongue out. He licked at the ketchup spot. Over and over again.

  “Louie! Oh my God, give me a towel. Don’t lick it off, Jesus.” I laughed, knowing I shouldn’t but not being able to stop myself.

  One blue eye peeked at me as he licked it again. “Why? I’m saving water. I’m saving the Earth.”

  Saving the Earth. If I hadn’t just spent twenty minutes putting on makeup, I would have smacked myself in the forehead. “Stop. Stop. Leave it alone. It’s fine. You can save the Earth another way.”

  “Are you sure? I can lick more.”

  That really made me laugh. “Yes, stop. Put your tongue back in your mouth, nasty.” I laughed even harder as the tip of it peeked out between his lips.

  Louie cracked up as he inched his face closer to the spot, as if daring me.

  “Stop. Just pretend there’s nothing there now,” I ordered him, right before he gave the ketchup stain one more lick. “Oh my God, look at that! There’s no stain anymore!”

  “What are you doing, ding-dong?” came Josh’s voice from behind where I was standing. “Why are you licking your shirt?”

  “Ketchup,” was the boy’s reply.

  I looked at Josh as he muttered, “What a weirdo.”

  Dressed in black pants my mom made him wear when they went to church, a bl
ue long-sleeved shirt, and a black vest, my little Josh looked so much like my earliest memory of Drigo it nearly took my breath away. I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything. “Looking good, J-Money.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I look stupid.”

  “And if by stupid you mean really handsome, you’re right.”

  He rolled his eyes so far back I was surprised they managed to make their way forward again.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “Do I have to go?” he asked for the fourth time since I’d told him we were all going to Ginny’s wedding.

  I told him the same thing I had when he’d argued that he could stay with his grandparents, or that he could stay with my parents. “Nope.” But I did tell him something I hadn’t before. “Dean is going to be there.”

  That wiped the frown off his face just enough. “He is?”

  “Yes. Trip texted me and asked if you were going.”

  His response was a grunt that I chose to ignore.

  “All right, let’s go, gangsters.”

  Louie hopped to his feet. “Okay, gangster.”

  Grabbing my purse and Ginny’s gift, I corralled the boys outside, trying to balance everything under my armpits as I made Louie lock the door behind us. Josh was already at the back passenger door of the SUV when I heard, “Diana!”

  I couldn’t help but smile as I turned in the direction of the person yelling. Not “the person.” Dallas. Sure enough, striding across the street in the way that only someone so tall with his kind of confidence was capable of, was my neighbor looking better than ever. And that was saying something since I’d seen him shirtless. In charcoal gray dress pants, a white shirt, and lavender tie, he was the best-looking man I’d ever seen.

  Coming toward me.

  Smiling.

  Who said he was in love with me.

  And looking at me with this focus that almost made me break out in a sweat. He’d shaved recently, his facial hair more of a five o’clock shadow than the neat beard he usually kept.

  “Hi, Professor” I called out to him as he took a step onto the sidewalk directly in front of my house.