by Odette Stone
It was irresponsible to get distracted with this intense stranger who stared at me with those knowing green eyes. Just because he actually talked to me and seemed to see me, didn’t mean anything. That was just who he was. He was an intense person. You couldn’t misread someone’s intensity as interest. So, maybe he made my stomach flutter a bit. Anyone who still had a pulse would get a fluttery stomach around him. I was mature and I could admit that he was very attractive. So what if he made me a bit nervous when he was around. That was normal. He would make anyone nervous.
But that didn’t mean I needed to read into anything. I wasn’t a college student anymore that daydreamed about hot men she crushed on. I was the fiancé of a lawyer. And now, I just needed to refocus my energy on the wedding and on Matt. Without looking back, I forced myself to climb the steps to my room, determined to block out all these weird feelings inside of me.
***
To try and get my mind off everything, I forced myself to read in bed. A soft tap sounded on my door. Matt poked his head in, giving me a grin.
“You look snug.”
“Hey.”
“How are you?” He sat down at the end of my bed.
“Good. Glad you got home for dinner.”
“Thanks for making Jackson feel so welcome.”
I blinked, remembering the golf club incident. “Are you joking?”
“He told me you bought the bed and fixed up his room. That was nice of you.”
My lips parted. I marvelled that Jackson had not told Matt about the warm welcome he received when he showed up. “Any friend of yours is welcome.”
Matt studied me. “Are you sure?”
“He can stay here as long as he wants.” I lied. Actually, the sooner the man left, the better. I decided that maybe Matt having asshole friends was far preferable to a really nice attractive one.
“Has Jackson told you what treatment he’s getting at the hospital?”
I shook my head.
“Me neither.”
We stared at each other. Didn’t Matt think it was weird that he had invited someone into our home that he barely seemed to know anymore? A man who obviously wasn’t entirely comfortable here and who made Matt feel the same way. The whole situation was just baffling.
“Is everything okay between you and Jackson?”
He shrugged. I expected him to blow off my question. It threw me when he was honest. “Things have been pretty shit between Jackson and me since my dad passed away.”
“I'm still really confused as to how Jackson became part of your life.”
His eyes slid up to my face before shifting away. “One day, I woke up and Jackson was sleeping in my top bunk. He was my dad’s charity case. There is more to the story but that’s the gist of it.”
“You’re kidding. How old were you?”
“About seven.”
“And your mom was okay with this?”
“She knew it was important to my dad.”
I blinked at the bitter tone in Matt’s voice.
“I’ve never heard this story,” I said. “Were you friends?”
“Yeah. We used to be really good friends.”
There was more to this but Matt was holding back. “How old were you when he stopped staying at your place?”
“He basically lived on and off with us until he left to join the navy.”
“So he was part of your family for most of your life.”
Matt looked down at his hands. “It was complicated. My dad treated him like he was part of the family.”
“Were you okay with it?”
“Sometimes it was fun. He felt like a brother lots of the time. He was completely wild.”
“Was he a bad kid?”
“No, he wasn’t a bad kid but trouble always seemed to find him. I remember one lunch hour, these older kids came over and started to pick on us. There was six or seven of them and two of us. I was ready to bolt but Jackson just stood his ground. I took one hit to the face and I ran screaming to the lunch lady but he didn’t run. He took them all on. They messed him up so bad he was in the hospital overnight with a bruised kidney but when the teachers got there to break up the fight, it took two teachers just to subdue him. He was tougher than anyone I knew.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“A bunch of kids got suspended over that fight, but that’s just who Jackson was. He had no fear. He would take anyone on. He was wild that way.”
“So, what happened?”
“What?” He avoided my gaze.
“Did you guys have a falling out?”
His shoulders twitched. “We’re just really different.”
There was way more to this than Matt was letting on. “Does your mom still keep in touch with him?”
Matt looked at me sharply. “Wow, someone is interested.”
My eyes were wide. “This guy grew up with you and I have never even heard about him. Of course I'm curious.”
“It isn’t a big deal.”
“Okay.”
He cleared his throat. “Can you keep your eye on him for me?”
“What?”
“I had to twist his arm to stay here, but you know what my work is like lately. Jackson and I need to work through some stuff.”
“Having me keep my eye on him, isn’t going to fix your past with him.”
“I know, but I need you to buy me some time. I don’t want him to take off.”
I studied the chipped clear polish on my nails. “I don’t think I'm the one that Jackson wants to hang out with.”
“Getting him to fix your car was a brilliant idea.”
“I didn’t ask him to do that.”
“I know, but maybe ask him for help on things. Make him feel useful.”
That felt manipulative. “Matt, no. Jackson seems like a great guy but I'm not going to impose on him.”
“At least spend some time with him.”
“We have nothing in common. Forcing him to hang out with me might drive him out of here quicker than if I just left him alone.”
“Please. It means a lot to me. Keep him busy.”
“Matt, you need to come home for dinner more. More than once a week. I get the sense that if Jackson feels like you're blowing him off, nothing will get him to stay.”
“You’re right. I'll try. Honest.”
We eyeballed each other. The cosmos laughed at my expense. I wanted to avoid Jackson, not spend more time with him. I needed to be more careful. School girl fantasies aside, flirting with anything Jackson was just a really bad idea.
“Where is he now?”
“I think he’s downstairs working on your car.”
I nodded.
“Hey, did you see that he moved that tire?”
“I noticed.”
He leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Tell me the truth. Did he use his truck to move that thing?”
The lie rolled off my tongue. “I have no idea.”
“I guarantee he used his truck.”
Chapter 9
I walked into the kitchen in time to see Jackson standing and staring at the espresso machine. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I could be the playful fun sister-in-law that made him feel welcome.
“You have to press a few buttons to make it work, they haven’t installed an eye retina scan on espresso machines yet.”
He turned, giving me an amused look. “Whatever happened to just a regular coffee maker?”
“I have been meaning to buy one. This thing takes forever when we have a dinner party. Do you want a latte?”
“Just a regular coffee.”
“I got it.”
“If you can make me a coffee, I'll make you breakfast.”
“Deal.”
We worked together in silence.
“What are your plans today?” I asked.
“Just a work out. You?”
“I need to run some errands,” I said. Then I paused. My car was in pieces.
“Let me take you.”
/> I avoided his glance. “I can take a cab.”
“Let me take you.”
I chewed on my lip. Thinking about how Matt asked me to keep him busy. “I have to do wedding stuff. Trust me. You’re going to hate this.”
“I think I can handle it.”
***
We stopped first at the Paper Pelican. Jackson nosed around the small shop. I stood at the counter, a shaky hand on my forehead, while the clerk droned on about grades of paper, type of font and messages. I stared unseeing at the dozens of examples before me. A familiar sense of panic was washing over me. I don’t know why I had thought it was a good idea to bring a witness to my personal meltdown. I still had no clue on how to proceed.
“You okay?” Jackson asked from just over my shoulder.
I shook my head, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “No. I'm not. I can’t seem to make a decision which just makes me even more anxious. This wedding is doomed.”
I glanced over at the door and debated just dropping everything again and running.
He moved beside me. “You want some help?”
“Suggestions welcome.”
He looked up at the clerk. “What do you suggest we focus on first?”
“Pick your paper first. Then your design,” she said.
“Are these all your paper samples?”
“Yes.”
He spread them out on the counter.
“Okay Emily. Focus just on the colour. Anything you don’t like?”
I pointed at four. “I don’t like these.”
“Good,” he pushed those away. “What about texture?”
I bit my lip. “I really like this texture.”
The clerk said, “That’s the linen. It comes in these four colours.”
She pointed at four sheets of paper.
“Anything jumping out at you?” His voice was so calm and soothing.
I sighed. “I don’t like the green or the blue.”
He removed those. “So we are down to pink…and…” he squinted, “and another pink.”
The clerk said, “This is sugar egg pink and this one is pink innocence.”
Jackson leaned in. His low voice rumbled in my ear, “My vote is on pink innocence.”
I blushed as I fought to keep a ridiculous smile off my face. I pointed to pink innocence. “We will go with that one.”
The clerk wrote it down on her paper. “Now what about font?” She took out a sample card. “These are our most popular fonts.”
Jackson leaned his arms on the counter and studied the sheet. “I can’t even read these two fonts.”
He was right. “Agreed.”
“Which one is easiest to read?” he glanced up at my face. I was working to keep all panic and fear off my face.
We both, at the same time, pointed to the font on the top left.
Jackson looked up at me. “Is this the one?”
“Yes.”
“This wedding stuff is easy,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes, but I felt something ease in my chest. We were actually doing this.
“What about messages?” the clerk prompted.
“Show us your samples.”
She pulled out five sheets. He leaned over the sheet and read them. I stood there and studied his dark blond hair, noticing the way it curled around his ear. It looked so soft and thick. My fingers itched to touch it.
“Any thoughts?” Jackson turned and glanced up at me.
I squirmed. I had no idea. “What are your thoughts?”
“These two samples mention the parents in the invitation.”
Out of four parents, only one remained. “Not those.”
“And this one, writes out the date and time in word format. I never liked that.”
“Me neither.”
He pointed at a sample, “This one is to the point, which is my style. Date, time, location. Simple.”
This is what I had wanted Matt to do with me. Jackson offered pragmatic and logical advise which calmed me down. “It’s my style too.”
He pointed at the sample and said to the clerk. “She’s the one.”
The clerk wrote that on her sheet. “We have all your other details. The last thing we need is how many invitations you need?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Do you know how many guests you're inviting?”
“The less the better,” I said under my breath.
Jackson turned and looked me directly in the eye. His expression was one of open curiosity.
I licked my lips. “Let’s go with 150. If I have too many, better than not enough.”
***
We started to walk towards the truck. Relief coursed through my veins. One less task on my gigantic list. I wanted to high five the world.
“That was amazing. How did you do that?”
“It’s all about elimination.”
“I’ve been stressing about the invitations for months. Every time I have walked in that store, I just walk out overwhelmed.”
Jackson looked over his shoulder at me. “Seriously?”
“I can’t seem to make a decision about anything.”
“Why do you think that is?”
We started to cross the street. Why was I paralyzed about my own wedding instead of being filled with excitement and joy? I had no idea. I was indecisive and it just seemed like such a monumental task. When we first got engaged, Matt and I had been so excited to get married. We had all these talks about what we wanted our wedding to look like. I had floated around on cloud nine for weeks. But those talks never materialized into anything more. And now suddenly it was just me doing the leg work and Matt seemed so disinterested.
“I just thought it would be easier. You know. To make decisions. It’s supposed to be our big day.”
“You should get Matt to help you.”
I looked up. A car barrelled towards me. It was too close. I couldn’t move. I was going to be hit. I shut my eyes, bracing for impact. Strong arms lifted me and spun me around. My back hit something hard. My breath knocked out of me in a soft umph. I opened my eyes. Jackson’s long length pinned me against the side of the truck.
My breath sputtered out of me in short little gasps.
Warm fingers touched my head, my neck, my shoulders.
“Are you hurt?”
Dazed, I stared up at him.
He repeated his question. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I could not seem to catch my breath. “You saved me.”
My back was against his truck. His hard warmth seeped into me. My mouth dried up.
“Are you hurt?” I worked to speak.
“I’m fine. You sure I didn’t hurt you? I yanked you pretty rough.”
“I froze.”
“You did.” He opened the passenger door. I scrambled in and sat staring straight ahead. My heart was still thumping, but I was pretty sure it was from his proximity not from the near miss.
“You need help?”
I looked at him stupidly. What was he asking me?
“Here, let me help you,” he reached in and pulled the seatbelt over me, his head bent over me as he fastened the belt. I caught the fresh clean scent of his hair. I worked to bring oxygen into my lungs. Maybe he believed I was in shock. Only I knew my breath was trapped because of his nearness.
He straightened. Our eyes met. I compulsively worked my throat, unable to tear my gaze from his. His jaw tightened and then he shut the door.
A few moments later, he climbed in beside me, acting like nothing was wrong. “Where to next?”
***
Side by side we faced the vast array of coffee makers in the large department store. Endless choices intimidated.
“Who’s idea was this?” he asked.
“Yours, I think.”
“Process of elimination?”
“Yup.”
“Single cup or pot.”
“Pot.”
He walked up the aisle and then came back.
“We’ve got 4 cup, 6 cup, 8 cup and 12 cup.”
“Uh….let’s go with 8 cup.”
“What colour?”
“Black or silver.”
“Do you want simple or gadgets.”
“Definitely lots of gadgets.”
He studied our choices and then tapped on two coffee makers. “Okay, you have eliminated it down to these two. This one has a built in bean grinder.”
“Sold.”
He looked amused. “You haven’t even heard about the other one’s features.”
“I want the grinder. What do you want?”
“The built-in grinder is alright.”
“That’s the one.”
“Shit,” he looked at the price. “No way. This coffee maker is over $300.”
I shrugged. “The average person spends $5 on coffee a day which is over $1800 a year. What’s the guarantee on that?”
He checked the box. “Lifetime.”
“Need I say more?”
I watched as he picked up the box and we walked to stand at the cashier line up. He pulled his wallet out of his jeans.
“No.” I said.
“You admitted it was my idea.”
“My coffee grinder, hands off.”
He leaned forward. “You work part-time. Let me help.”
“My dad heavily invested in this unknown company called Microsoft in the 80s,” I said, “And because of his foresight, I can drink a lot of coffee.”
His eyes widened. “You telling me you’re rich.”
“Grossly so.”
“Like how rich?”
“Bill Gates used to send my dad a birthday card.”
“No shit.”
“My Dad was a financial genius. He liquidated at it’s highest point and now I just live on the interest, but I would give every penny back if it meant my dad was still here.”