“Right, right,” Derrick said. “Well, I’m just picking up some lunch to take to the lab. Great to meet you, Melissa. See you around, Sean.” He sidled away.
“He seems nice! Is he a friend of yours?” Melissa said.
Too frustrated with her to speak, Sean shifted his basket, squeezed out from where Melissa had cornered him, and walked away. He could only imagine what stupid, exaggerated tale Derrick was going to spin to Annabelle.
At least she’d already met Melissa and knew that she was indeed an ex. It was all in the open already, and Sean could only hope that she trusted him enough to disregard whatever Derrick had to say.
Annabelle had been running her latest data models on the mainframe for two hours already, and it was hard to stop smiling. Her muscles still carried that post-sex flush, as if she’d had a hit of some powerful, muscle relaxant, feel-good drug.
Up until a few weeks ago, a quiet Sunday morning alone at the lab would have been perfection. She was free to hum along to her earphones and do what she liked, use the mainframe computer without waiting, go in and out of the ice core freezer without getting in anyone’s way. She was drinking bad instant coffee from the office machine, and that would usually have satisfied her, too.
That morning, however, she was thinking about what she could be doing instead: spending the day with Sean. Shopping together at the grocery store like a bona fide couple. Having a lazy afternoon on the sofa, making out in front of the TV the way they never had together as teenagers.
As much as she yearned to be with Sean instead, the idea motivated her to pound out a whole section of her dissertation. The sooner she finished it, the sooner she could spend more time with her new boyfriend.
Boyfriend. A giddy feeling lifted her stomach, butterflies pulling her into the clouds. My boyfriend, Sean Kelly.
She saved her work on her computer and made a backup on the external hard drive she kept locked in her desk. She made a new cup of coffee, looking out the window at a sparkling white spring morning. The roads were dark, free of ice or snow, the first thing to shake free of winter’s grip.
Annabelle’s phone buzzed with an incoming text message. She’d resolved not to get into a text flirtation with Sean because it was too distracting. Since she was taking a coffee break, she considered looking at the message, but before she could, a light knock sounded on her partially-open office door.
“Annabelle?”
She sighed. Him again. She resolved not to let him ruin her Sunday morning peace.
“Hi, Derrick.” She kept her tone neutral, even cheerful. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I have work to catch up on,” he said, giving her an odd look. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Are you finally ready to tell me what’s wrong with your research?” she said. “I might be able to help, you know.”
“It’s not that.”
“Have you at least talked to Peter about it?”
“This isn’t about work.”
She braced herself for another round of no-I-won’t-be-getting-back-together-with-you. “What’s up?” she said.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this. But—” His look was earnest. “We are friends now, aren’t we?”
She withheld a sigh. “Yes, Derrick. We’re friends.”
“And friends look out for each other.”
“That’s right.”
“Okay, so . . . I was just at CoCo’s, and I ran into Sean Kelly.”
Here we go, Annabelle thought. “Derrick, you’re just going to have to get over—”
“Annabelle, he was with his girlfriend.”
She rolled her eyes. If he thought she was going to believe some lie about Sean . . .
“Honestly, Annabelle. She was introduced to me as his girlfriend. Said her name was Melissa?”
A dart of doubt punctured her certainty about Sean, even though she knew better. She trusted Sean. Fully. One-hundred percent.
And yet . . .
She knew she wasn’t his type. She’d always known it.
“Why would Sean introduce this so-called girlfriend to you, knowing that you would just tell me?”
“Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to run into me or anyone else you know,” Derrick said. “And this chick was all over him.” He shrugged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but if I were dating someone, I’d want you to tell me if it looked like that person was cheating.”
She winced at the term. “And how do I know you’re not making all this up?”
“How else would I know her name?” He held out his phone. “And I thought you might not believe me, so I snuck a photo of them together.”
It was undeniable. There, in full living color, were Sean and Melissa, standing in the grocery store. His head was tilted down toward her; her hand was clutching his arm, and her body was far too close to be merely friendly.
Despair rolled through Annabelle, an almost-nausea that made her recoil from the image. At the same time, she couldn’t stop staring at it. A rush of old feelings came back, feelings she’d only just started to reconfigure into new patterns. The hopelessness of competing for Sean’s attention against that pretty, blonde, bubbly, fashionable type girl. The sad knowledge that she wasn’t pretty enough. The fear that Sean was just playing her after all.
It was like there were two Annabelles wrestling for control. One was a thirty-year-old woman who had professional success, a plan for her life, and awesome sex with her hot firefighter boyfriend who was a good guy and who’d never lead her on. The other Annabelle was a teenage girl, painfully shy, awkward, and terribly in love with a boy who would never love her back.
She remembered running into Melissa the night before. Sean had been insistent that they were broken up, but the way Melissa acted around him was not like someone who had no hope of reconciliation. Melissa acted like they were on-again, off-again, and maybe now on-again.
Kissing him at the airport.
Teasing him last night. Unperturbed—un-threatened—by Annabelle’s presence.
And now, they were shopping together. Had Sean called Melissa to hang out as soon as he was out the door of Annabelle’s apartment? Was Melissa his backup girl?
“I’m really sorry,” Derrick said.
Annabelle couldn’t help being angry at the messenger. Why did it have to be Derrick, of all people? She didn’t trust his intentions, although she couldn’t deny the reality of the photo.
“I’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind,” she said.
“Of course.” He ducked out.
Annabelle seized her phone. She saw there was a text message from Sean and she opened it, heart pounding.
Hey, beautiful. Ran into Derrick at the store, and also ran into Melissa. I don’t trust that guy not to turn it into something it’s not, so just thought you should hear it from me first.
She puzzled over the message. He didn’t seem worried about the encounter.
Then again, he didn’t know Derrick took a photo of them.
She let her face drop into her hands. Other things floated through her mind. The quiet desperation she’d felt at high school graduation as Sean’s then-girlfriend threw her tanned, toned arms around him. The recent conversation with her mother, who knew Annabelle all too well. “Ugly duckling,” Annabelle had once called herself, and it was still difficult to think of herself as anything but. “Not his type,” Susan Keith had said, and she was right about that.
I’m going to drive myself crazy with this stuff, Annabelle thought. I’m not going to be powerless and hopeless this time. I need to make a rational decision about Sean.
She took out a pen and a piece of blank computer paper. Across the top, she wrote “PROS” and “CONS” with a line down the middle.
“Pros,” she said aloud and started writing. Hot. Makes me laugh. Good—she scratched that out and wrote instead—Amazing in bed. Likes cats. Has a good job. Volunteers with kids. Saves peoples’ lives. Saved MY life.
She put
the pen down and sighed. They all felt like trivial items, except for saving lives and the amazing in bed part, which she had to admit was difficult not to give extra weight. For a moment she contemplated creating a points system, but that defeated the purpose of the exercise, which was to force her to look at it from all sides.
She moved on to the “Cons” side. No college degree. Way more sociable than I am. Afraid he’s not serious about me & just wants a fling. Hard to talk to him about my scientific work. Not his type. Not MY type. Overreacted to Derrick. Embarrassed me at work. Clearly still involved somehow with Melissa.
Annabelle stared at the paper. The “Cons” list seemed more substantial, and seeing them written down only made her worries feel more real. She bit her lip. She’d always been a “head over heart” type person. Logic didn’t suggest that Sean would be a good match for her. But how could she quantify how he made her feel? How could she put into words the overwhelming, searing passion that only he seemed to be able to unlock in her?
Her pen hovered over the “Pros” list. Frustrated, she flipped the paper over. Then she wrote, Pro: I’m totally in love with him. Always have been, always will be. There is no other man for me.
Maybe love just didn’t always make logical sense. Maybe it didn’t have to.
And maybe after dinner with Sean that night, she’d have some clarity. She resolved to ask him in person about the Melissa situation, and even more than that: what he wanted from life, from a relationship with a woman. When in doubt, collect more data.
She put her “Pros and Cons” list in her desk drawer to be considered later.
27
“Dude, I’m sure either one will look fine,” Sean said, unable to tell any difference between white and ivory.
Cody and Sean had been at Gail’s Bride & Tux for over an hour. They were being measured for Cody and Cassie’s wedding—Cody for his groom’s suit, and Sean as best man. Cody had been grumbling the entire time about how he would be perfectly happy to be married in his nicest flannel shirt. When Gail, the elderly shop owner, asked him what color shirt he needed to go with the suit, white or ivory, both Cody and Sean had been flummoxed by the question.
“If her dress is ivory, the white will make it look yellowish,” Gail explained. “If her dress is white, then you can’t wear ivory for the same reason.”
“How am I supposed to know what her dress looks like? She won’t tell me!” Cody said.
“Aren’t all wedding dresses just white?” Sean asked.
Gail gave them each an indulgent smile. “Why don’t you call her and let me speak with her?”
“Good idea!” Cody whipped out his phone and speed-dialed Cassie with a look of visible relief.
They wandered off to look at ties. Sean was glad he had a job that didn’t require wearing a suit and tie every day; instead, he could wear workout shorts and a t-shirt and wrestle his friends.
“So how’s it going with your scientist?” Cody asked.
“Unbelievably well,” Sean said.
“As in she might be the one?” Cody nudged him. “As in we might be back in here getting you fitted for your groom’s tux?”
That would be awesome, Sean thought, and the fact that he’d thought it told him he was in deep.
“Time will tell,” he said. “We’re from two different worlds, and that might be a sticking point.”
“I thought you went to the same high school. That’s the same world, man. Not like Cassie and me. If little old me from Bettles, Alaska, population nine, can end up with a woman from New York City, you can end up with a woman from Anchorage that you went to high school with.”
“Fair point,” Sean said. “But I didn’t mean geographically. She’s so dang smart—brilliant, really—and I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold her interest for long.” He shook his head. “The irony is crazy. Here I’ve been breaking up with women because they bore me, and when I finally meet one who could never bore me in a million years, I’m afraid she might find me dull!”
Cody laughed. “See, the universe does have a sense of humor. You’ll just have to make sure you keep her satisfied somehow!”
“I do what I can,” Sean said, warming inside at the memory of Annabelle’s shuddering orgasms from the previous night. “And it’s not like she goes around spouting esoteric theories all day long. I mean, we send funny cat videos back and forth, so she’s down at my level at least some of the time.”
Gail returned with Cody’s phone. “She says ivory, and I’m also supposed to help you with your ties and vests. The wedding colors are blush and navy.” She arched an eyebrow.
Sean and Cody looked at each other helplessly.
“Don’t worry,” Gail said. “All you need to do is stand there while I fit you since Cassie’s already chosen everything. And chosen well, I might add.”
After the fitting was over at last, Sean went home and planned out the evening. After running into Melissa at the grocery store and figuring that Derrick would try to spin it to Annabelle, he didn’t want to take any chances. He wanted a romantic evening in, to cook dinner for Annabelle and have her mind and body all to himself for the night. The thought was a coil of anticipation and near-arousal.
He set out a couple steaks to marinate, and then his phone vibrated with a text message from a number he didn’t recognize. Curious, he opened it.
Sean, this is coming from a friend. Sorry to text you like this, but I thought you should see this. Just doing you a favor because I think it’s important you know what Annabelle is really thinking and I don’t want to see anyone hurt.
There was an image attachment, which Sean opened and enlarged. It was a piece of paper with “Pros” and “Cons” written across the top. From seeing her handwriting at trivia night, he recognized the handwriting as Annabelle’s. He was annoyed at this anonymous “friend”—whoever it was was obviously invading Annabelle’s privacy and making Sean part of it.
But as he read the list she’d made, he realized with a jolt of dread that it was about him.
The pros list made him smile when he got to the part where she crossed out “good” and wrote “amazing” in bed. But then he looked at the cons. He glared darkly at the screen, feeling a tense, unpleasant electric charge as he read all the things she didn’t like about him.
“No college degree,” he read aloud, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “Hard to talk to him about my scientific work.”
So Annabelle did have an issue with his education, or lack thereof. It was a stinging rebuke. It all went back to his injury, to the loss of his scholarship, the loss of his career as a hockey player. Up until that moment, he’d thought firefighting was a good job, a profession to be proud of.
He rubbed his bad knee. It had started to ache.
Worse thoughts invaded his mind. He remembered confiding in her about his job, his thoughts on things. He’d thought she would be interested in it, but the whole time she must have just been thinking what a boring, intellectually unstimulating existence he must lead. After all, she’d only wanted him to join the trivia team for his sports knowledge. His fascination for her—and respect for her mind—wasn’t reciprocated.
Was she only using him for sex? Was she just having fun with the ex-jock while waiting for a more intellectually suitable man to show up?
He studied the pros side again. Likes cats. Has a good job. Saved my life. They felt more like obligatory votes in his favor than things to build a relationship upon.
Which meant she had no intention of building one for the long term.
Which meant he would not someday in the reasonably near future be fitted for a groom’s suit at Gail’s Bride and Tux.
Oh, but he liked cats.
The erroneous and unjust point about him being still involved with Melissa showed Derrick’s interference at work. But the fact that Annabelle believed it, that he “wasn’t her type” anyway, outweighed even that. The very existence of a pros and cons list implied that she was trying to make up he
r mind about him and clearly found him wanting.
He thought of her wild red hair and her keen blue eyes and her quiet, sweet, thoughtful manner and it made his chest hurt. It didn’t seem like her to look down on him, but he wasn’t a mind-reader, especially not of women.
This was a new feeling, of not being good enough . . . and he hated it.
He glanced at the steaks, opened the refrigerator, and forcefully shoved them inside onto an empty shelf, causing the marinade to slosh around. He wouldn’t be cooking dinner for anyone tonight. For once, he didn’t feel like socializing at all.
Sean changed into his gym clothes, pulled on a parka, and headed out the door, leaving his phone behind. He needed to take his mind off Annabelle, and heavy weightlifting might channel some of the bitter surge of anger that threatened to overwhelm him.
Annabelle waited for Sean to call her about dinner, but the hours ticked away and she didn’t hear from him.
For the first time in her adult life, she’d gone to get a manicure. She’d spent the afternoon at the Dragonfly Spa next to the Pioneer Hotel. The spa was a soothing space with natural stone and wood and a fountain. It had a Russian-Japanese fusion vibe to the interior that was way more stylish than Annabelle had been expecting, and she’d thought the prices would match, but with her student ID and the off-season prices geared to locals, it had been downright affordable.
Her nails looked the best they ever had. They were gleaming, shining, perfect ovals of sultry dark red. Her toes were the same color. Annabelle felt a million times sexier already and decided it was a girly thing she needed to do on a regular basis.
When she got back to where she parked her car on Main Street, she remembered to turn her phone off silent. She was surprised Sean hadn’t texted, especially since it was past five o’clock and they’d made plans for the night. It wasn’t like him to be out of touch.
Forget Me Not (Golden Falls Fire Book 4) Page 19