A Half Hour Later
We’re both jarred awake by a loud knock at the front door. I blink, reaching back from the fog. Mark’s furnace-warm body is wrapped around mine, and the heat of him makes it harder to realize where I am, what I heard, what’s going on.
“What was that?” I mutter.
He stretches and waits. His voice is as groggy as I feel. “A knock?”
My heart begins to beat harder. Who would be knocking with that much force? The only answer that that makes sense is Michael.
Another knock comes, and it sounds less loud, less sure.
“Guess so,” Mark says, and starts to rise.
“Wait,” I apply pressure to him with all my limbs, snuggling up. “You’re so warm. I don’t want to get up.”
He hesitates and tenses. “Don’t you want to know who it is?”
I shrug, my head hidden against his chest so his x-ray emotion-vision can’t see my face. There is no way I want a face-off with Mark and Michael right now. My heart twists just thinking about it. This day has been so wonderful. I don’t want to let my happiness go just yet. Why is he here exactly when I don’t want him to be? Why wasn’t he here when he had the chance?
I deflect Mark’s curiosity. My head is still lying on him, my eyes hidden from his view. “It’s probably my neighbor wanting to use the phone. She always forgets hers somewhere. Such a ditz.” I make a little scoffing sound and squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hoping he’ll accept this and stay here in bed with me.
He relaxes and adjusts his bare legs so that they encircle mine. “Well, looks like she gave up.”
I don’t agree with him. Not yet. I don’t want to jinx it. We wait in silence. I pray Michael, go away… if it is him. I’m also dying to know, which is the horrible part. Part of me wants to go peek, but of course, that would be stupid. Masochistic. Wrong.
No knock comes. Soon Mark’s chest rises and falls back into dreamland. I close my eyes, but I can’t fall asleep. With my heart beating as hard as it is, with the guilt and the shame pouring through my veins, I’m picturing Michael standing at my door with ferocious determination. Michael, so obsessed with me that he came all the way over here. The thought is absurd! Michael is only obsessed with art. But his showing up here last night makes me think it isn’t as absurd as my insecurity would have me believe.
It used to be me who showed up at the studio night after night just to see him, compelled to be around him as often as I could. Now the tables are turned, and if that was him, now he’s the one showing up unannounced. He’s the one who can’t stay away. How his eyes must have gleamed with need as he waited for me to open the door. His heart – how it must have raced. I know exactly how that feels. Mine used to race like that. If I’m honest with myself, it’s racing now.
I look up at Mark’s face and watch him sleep, his mouth slightly open, eyes relaxed and closed. I tell myself, stop it, Nicole. Stop thinking about Michael! Like a junkie picking up the needle after finally getting clean, I cannot afford the luxury of thinking about Michael Benitez. I will not fall down the rabbit hole and blow everything!
I squeeze my eyes shut and try my hardest to fall back asleep. The sound of Mark’s breathing is comforting, but it isn’t enough. I want a cigarette. Dammit! My heart won’t slow down. I have to get up. I can’t lie here anymore. I lay my head on Mark’s chest and listen to his heartbeat, so soft and steady. I look at his face, thinking, he deserves better than this. I bring my finger to lightly trace his nose, so straight and regal. He doesn’t wake and I watch him sleep, wishing I was ready for a man like him.
Another knock on the door. I sit up fast, heart slamming me into an upright position.
Mark wakes abruptly and looks toward me, then the door. “Another knock?”
I nod, slowly. “Mmhmm.”
I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this. What do I do? What do I say? I dart my eyes down to Mark. He’s inspecting my face, my emotions.
Uh oh.
I roll my eyes. “She just bugs me when she does this.”
He nods and sits up, but he’s still looking at me like he’s not sure what’s happening, or what he should do.
Go kick Michael’s ass, Mark! Rip him out of my head while you’re at it.
I smile and slide out of the bed, snatching my short silk robe from a hook in my closet. Mark starts to get out of my bed, but I hold a hand up to stop him.
“It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
He shakes his head and climbs out. I watch him, horrified. A harder knock reaches us. Jesus! That’s three. Mark passes by me naked to get his jeans from the bathroom. I race to the door, my heart beating so hard it hurts, my eyes darting around as I try helplessly to plan what to do. It’s impossible! There is no planning something like this! There is no way I can stop this train from sliding off the rails.
I grab the doorknob. Mark walks into the studio behind me, zipping up his pants. I look over and see he has no shoes, no socks, no shirt. His hair is all over the place. I’m sure mine is no better. We look like we just fucked. My head starts to spin and despite the voice screaming in my head don’t open the door, I open it. Kathy, my neighbor, is standing on my welcome mat, annoyed.
My lungs suck in relief. “Kathy!”
Kathy is tall Chinese girl with a clipped accent. She moved here to go to school and never left. She pulls her coat tight around her, her scarf up high under her chin. “Can I use your phone?”
I glance back quickly to Mark, throw him an urgent I-told-you-so-look, which makes Kathy see him for the first time, half naked, leaning against a wall, looking gorgeous. Her eyes turn to saucers. Her mouth makes an ‘O.’
“This is Mark.” I smile, motioning to him as I leave the door open, and go to find my phone.
She takes a step in and shakes his outstretched hand.
“Hi Kathy.” He motions to the heavy coat and scarf. “Is it cold out?”
“Not anymore,” she says.
He laughs. I sneak a sideways glance at him, from where I’m bending to search my coat for my phone. What an idiot I am. This man is amazing – look at how easygoing that smile of his is. Michael is long gone – dead to me – and for good reason. I have to stay in this moment and try to get used to being with someone who actually makes me feel good. Who doesn’t make me feel emptier – more alone – when I’m in his company.
Mark’s eyes dance at Kathy’s blank, open gawking. He tries another tactic to make conversation. “Did you leave your phone in a cab?”
Kathy stares at him for two empty seconds. She blurts out, finally hearing he asked her a question, “What? No. I left it at work. Have to call my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend.” She takes the phone from me while she stares at Mark. She mutters, but not quietly enough, “But he doesn’t look like you.”
He pretends not to hear her, but I’m sure he finds this hilarious. Kathy looks to the phone to dial, but stops. She looks at me. “Oh look. Someone texted you.”
I snatch it from her before she can say, Michael. But looking, it’s not from him. It’s from Jessica.
Jessica: Heard you met a guy. Details!
I shoot a quick look up to both of them. “Sorry. Just give me a sec.”
I text back: Details later. He’s incredible, which means I’m losing my shit. Yikes.
Jessica: Ha! Come out tonight! Let’s meet him. I’ll call Amber.
I read it and look up to Mark. His eyebrows rise. Do I want to bring him out with my girlfriends or enjoy the time alone with him?
Mark cocks his head. “What’s up?”
“My friend – the one I told you about – she wants us to come out with her and Amber tonight. Do you want to?”
Kathy puffs impatiently behind me. Partly from wanting my phone. Partly from being disgusted that I’m even considering going out over staying in bed all night doing wonderful, lascivious things. I hold out a hand telling her to wait.
Mark’s thinking it over. He wants to say yes to make me happy, but
he’s reticent. He shrugs, “Why not?”
Kathy says, “No!”
I look back and her and laugh. Mark smiles and melts her even more.
“You sure?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.” He pushes himself off the wall, walks over and kisses me before he turns back to the bathroom to get dressed.
I text Jess: Sounds good. After dinner.
I hand the phone back to Kathy, who’s looking at me like I’m crazy. I ignore her. I want him to meet my friends. For once I have a man I want to bring outside with me. There’s something kind of awesome about that. “Okay – here you go. Come all the way in and close the door. I need to get ready.”
Kathy nods and points to where he was. She mouths, wow. I nod and point to the phone, hurry up. She quickly gets ahold of her boyfriend and is talking to him as I leave.
“Casual or dressy?” I call from the bedroom.
“What?”
I walk to repeat again through the closed bathroom door, “Should I dress casual or dressy?”
It swings open and Mark steps out, fully clothed, hair tamed. He has a sexy smirk on his mouth as he looks me over. The idea of me dressed up appeals to his imagination. “Dressy.”
Kathy’s voice in the other room wafts over, heavy in irritated explanation. “I thought I had it! I don’t mean to leave it everywhere. Do you think I’m stupid or something? I’m a frigging doctor! Don’t act like I’m stupid or I won’t do that thing!”
Mark whispers to me, “Is she?”
“Acupuncture,” I nod. “To help fertility. She’s good, too.”
Kathy’s practically yelling, “Look. I have too many things on my mind, so just get off my back! And… take me out tonight! Somewhere nice. I deserve a night out. Yes, I’m serious.” Mark and I try so hard not to laugh. “Good! Come get me.”
She hangs up we both walk out and find her standing triumphantly.
“Nicely done,” I smile, taking the phone.
She opens the door, happy as a clam. “I’d rather he thought of it, but at least I’m going out! Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Mark walks into the kitchen to get water. I look down and see Jess returned my text.
Jess: Yay! I’ll bring Chris! Text the deets in a bit.
I smile at the phone. I love my girlfriends. Thank God for them. Prideful anticipation fills me up, thinking, This is so exciting! Finally I won’t be the fifth wheel.
Kathy tucks her scarf tighter and goes to leave, but I reach out and grab her arm, looking to the kitchen to make sure Mark isn’t listening. I whisper as quiet as I can, so quiet that she’s more reading my lips than hearing me. I’m acting it out as I go. “Did you knock before?”
She nods. “Yeah. I knocked a bunch just now. Why are we whispering?”
I roll my eyes. Look back at the kitchen again. We’re safe. “No, before that.”
She frowns and shakes her head.
Guilty for even asking, I mutter, “Must have dreamed it. I was sleeping. Sorry.”
She smirks. “Yeah. Sleeping. Sure you were.”
I wave my fingers at her and she grins and leaves. I close the door and lean my back against it, heavy with thoughts. If it wasn’t her, then who was it? Maybe it was a salesperson going door to door. Maybe it was a plumber searching for the right leak to fix. Maybe it was a delivery guy bringing food to the wrong floor.
Maybe I’m grasping at imaginary phantoms.
An Hour Later
Mark sits opposite me at Tre Dici Steak, a hip Italian steak house in Chelsea. I want to tell him I was at another Italian place last night, and while the food was amazing (and the company crap) – I much prefer this place and this company. I should keep this feeling to myself. He already met Grant which was sooooo much fun. And he saw a painting of Michael, which was enough to tell Mark I think about Michael enough that I had to paint him. So, really. Mark doesn’t need to hear I was on a date last night, too. I mean, how many men am I seeing anyway? There’s Jason and Zach – my current go-to’s. Oh damn. I almost forgot about Tom. Should I be feeling slutty right about now? The concern twists me for a second. But fuck it. I’m a grown woman and I get to do what I want with my body. And those guys are my friends, too. Except for Tom. Met him at a party and fucked him in the bathroom. It was okay. I can probably get out of that by not returning a text or two. Jason and Zach, though. There will have to be a conversation. Wait a minute… what?
“Are you fine with a zinfandel?” Mark asks, looking up at me from the wine list. The light in here is beautiful and his face looks so gorgeous as he waits for my answer.
The server – twenty-five, stocky, Italian – crosses his hands one over the other, looking at me like there are a lot of other tables he has to get to. I look from him to Mark, trying to figure out what they’re waiting for.
“What?”
Mark smile, eyes dancing. “Where’d you go?”
Down my sexual past. “Nowhere. I’m right here.”
He laughs. “Zinfandel good? Do you like red?”
“Oh…mmhmm… sounds nice.”
Mark looks back to the server and they discuss the options while my mind fades back to spin-mode. I can’t remember. Did I already tell Mark I was on a date last night? This is frustrating. See, this is the problem with meeting someone good. I have to find ways of wiping all the other men under the rug. Nothing to see here! No – don’t look! Seriously. Nothing’s under there but a hairball…spit out by my imaginary cat. Who’s big. Like, really big. Like five-men-from-my-immediate-past big.
Yeesh.
I switch my focus to the room. Focus on this moment. I read The Power of Now and he said that now is the only reality anyway, that everything else is only in our minds. If that’s true, then those other men who’ve been in my pants don’t even exist anymore. Huh. I can see why he’s a bestseller. I feel better already.
Looking around, I fall in love with the décor. Red walls, dark leather chairs. There’s a 1920’s vibe in here, like you could film a scene from Boardwalk Empire and not change a thing. It looks as though at the next table there should be an illicit card game with men in old-fashioned tuxes and women in glittering gowns standing by, their gloved hands rested on the men’s shoulders, egging them on to win.
“I think I’m being romantic.”
Mark leans back in his chair, the picture of happy. “How so?”
“I’ve got visions of The Prohibition Era going on. This room! Look over there. Doesn’t she have the face of the women from the 20’s? Tiny cherub mouth, round face? Cut her hair shorter, curl it, put a shiny headband on her…and bam!”
He glances over, amused. “It does feel like a speak-easy.”
“That’s what they called them. I couldn’t remember. A speak-easy. Wow. I’d love to go back in time and live there for a day. Those dresses. So glamorous. Well, I’d go back if the Civil Rights Act had passed in the late 1800’s, anyway.”
His expression darkens. He understands my meaning. “Yeah, things were very different then, weren’t they.” It’s more a statement, than a question. He looks at me. “Thank God they’ve changed.”
I look down at my napkin, opening it and laying it on my lap. “Yes, thank God… and thank a whole lot of people who fought for it. Things were very, very different for my Mema.” I rest my chin on hands, staring off into the memories of her. “She was a force, though. You always knew where you stood with her and she held the bar up high. Said that in order to inspire change, you had to know you were responsible not only for yourself, but for the people you came into contact with. Treat them well, and if they aren’t right in the head – if they’re doing things to hurt people – stand up for the people they’re hurting. Especially if one of those people is you. But she could also be very kind and comforting. My momma wasn’t strong like her… but maybe it’s because Mema was so strong, Momma felt she had that covered. I don’t know.” Thinking of my momma always makes me a little sad. I wish I could have helped her have mor
e courage.
Mark leans forward and lays his hand on the table, palm up. I rest my hand on his. He curls his fingers around mine and holds them. “Your mema sounds just like you.”
I look down, embarrassed by such a tremendous compliment. “Thank you.”
I had never thought I might be like her. Am I? The idea is so hard to believe. It’s like Mark just spoke in a different language.
Mark gives my hand a squeeze, his eyes soft above a crooked smile. “I’ve had such a great day with you, Nicole.”
My fingers caress his. “Me too. It’s been really… unexpected.”
We sit back in our chairs as the server returns with the bottle of wine. He goes to pour a taste for Mark to try. Mark raises his hand to stop him. “I’m sure it’s fine. You can go ahead and pour.” This simple gesture impresses me; no pomp and circumstance to it, just easy confidence.
The server pauses and takes this in for a brief moment. He nods and pours my glass first, then Mark’s. “I’ll give you guys a minute to decide.” I notice that he said guys, like we’re more his peers now. Mark’s rejection of pretense was a social leveler. I’m fine with that. I’d rather have a nice easy-going night where everyone’s comfortable and having a good time. ‘Status’ just annoys me sometimes. I mean, what’s the point?
Mark raises his glass to toast. “To meeting such an unbelievable woman.”
A shy smile spreads across my lips. “Thank you. To a beautiful day.” I bring my glass to his and clink it softly, holding his eyes. The wine goes down nicely; a very dry, full bodied red with more than a hint of cherry. It leaves that chalky taste in my mouth that I love. “Mmm. This is good. You know what? We should go wine tasting in California. Sonoma County, right? Wouldn’t that be fun?”
He grins, leaning back in his chair. He runs his hand through his soft, sandy brown hair. “That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Stick around. I’ve got more.”
The look changes behind his eyes like a thought has occurred to him, and he’s not sure if he should say it. His eyes narrow and his head tilts to the side, looking down and back up. “So…”
I Love My Chance (Nicole's Erotic Romance 3) Page 4