The Light of Day

by Kristen Kehoe

  I hear her heeled footsteps trek across the floor and then nothing, so I know she’s slipping out of those heels, an act that has me turning around to watch because my new privileges include watching her dress in the morning, and fuck if there’s anything sexier than watching her wrap the package I’ve had my hands all over the night before. Knowing I’m going to get to watch her undress everything twelve hours later is a turn on I never expected.

  Only, when I spot her, she’s still wearing her heels and her skin-tight black jeans and light denim button down she paired them with today, and I’m no longer staring at her legs, I’m staring at her.

  Her hair is lighter, but not, like she took the ends and dipped them into liquid gold, blending and drawing it out until her normal chocolate locks fade to a gentler, more caramel brown. The contrast is stunning and for the first time since we met, I feel like I’m seeing the true Cora.

  Those secrets she always wears are still there, but this time rather than hiding them I feel like she’s challenging me to unearth them. When I just continue to stare, she cocks a hip and leans against the counter and I feel myself go rock hard. I’ve had this girl at least twice a day, every day for the last fourteen days, and it’s still not enough.

  “I think you might be burning your fish,” she says and it takes me a minute to comprehend her words. With a curse, I turn and grab the spatula, flipping the two filets and smirking over my shoulder as I grab the second pan and shake the arugula.

  “I like your hair.”

  She smiles a female smile full of power and secrets and walks to the fridge, still wearing those shoes that make me want to drop to my knees and thank the man who invented them. Grabbing me a beer, she gets herself a mini bottle of Pellegrino and brings both over to the stove.

  “I’m glad. I have to say, it was nice to have someone to make an entrance for. Are we celebrating?” she asks and points to dinner. I nod and take the beer from her, lowering the heat under the pans for the last few minutes of cook time. “Anything in particular?”

  “Let’s get this out of the way first,” I say and grab her around the waist. She doesn’t resist; rather, her body flows easily into mine and the rhythm we’ve developed together. My hand anchors in her shirt at the small of her back, forcing her to press even closer, an act to which she responds, gripping my shirt in the same spot, arching her back until we’re driving each other nuts.

  “I didn’t think you could be any more beautiful,” I tell her between small kisses. “I was wrong.” And then deeper, deeper until we’re both breathing hard and I have to pull back or risk dinner while I pull her to the ground and finish what I just started.

  We stand, breath heaving, staring at one another. Her grin comes first, and then mine, and before I can stop myself I lean in and give her a friendly kiss, one that says something different than the devouring I just handed her.

  “Why don’t you set the table, then we can eat and you can tell me what inspired this change?”

  She nods and, after a beat, leans in to kiss me. Neither of us acknowledges that this is the first time she’s done something so simple when it’s been unprompted, but I’m smiling as she grabs two plates and walks out.

  ~

  Dinner is edible, more than, which is pleasing, and for a bit we sit and eat, both of us going through the wind down of our day that’s become as routine as sharing a meal. The step we took earlier in the month cemented what we were already building toward, that this relationship is just that, and I can’t describe how it feels to know this awaits me at the end of the day.

  When our plates are clean and the table cleared and Blue has her fancy coffee from the foreign machine that sits unused if she’s not home, I grab another beer and her hand and pull her to the couch.

  “Spill it. What’s with the new hair?”

  She shrugs and settles into the corner while I sprawl on the cushion next to her, throwing my arm over the back. “I don’t really know. I wasn’t planning on it, but then I got to work and A.J. and I were talking and I realized that I’d left my hair that color for too long. Like I was trying to convince myself I’m one dimensional, but I’m not.” She sips from her coffee. “I guess that sounds stupid.”

  I sip from my beer and shake my head. “Actually, it sounds dead on. You went through something and changed who you were, but that doesn’t mean that you can forget her. Or that you should,” I say and watch her nod slowly.

  “I think I came to that realization at some point in the last week,” she murmurs and I slide my eyes to hers. For a beat they hold and in them I see everything I feel. I nod and then she smiles, slow and easy, and I want nothing more than to freeze this moment and live inside of it forever.

  “Now you,” she says. “Even in your appreciation, you didn’t know my hair was changing so I know dinner wasn’t for that. Spill it. Why were you ready to celebrate?”

  “I threw today.” I barely get the words out before she’s cheering, grabbing my hand and almost spilling both of our drinks as she lifts them up in victory.

  “Oh my gosh, Jake, this is huge. I should be cooking you dinner, what are you doing spoiling me when it’s your day? We should have had steak. And French fries.”

  I laugh and pull her into my lap, cutting her off as I press my lips to hers. I’m so fucking happy it’s unreal, and when she wraps her arms around my neck and drives her fingers into my hair, I know it’s bigger than the milestone I hit today. It’s her, she’s my happy, my sunshine, everything that’s pulled me from the dark and saved me the past few months.

  “You’re the first person I wanted to call and tell,” I say as she leans back and smiles at me. “But then I thought this was too big for the phone and wanted to wait until you got home. Your hair distracted me.”

  “Well, I’m not sorry about that, but this is big, Handsome Jake, and it deserves major attention. We have to celebrate. Let’s go dancing.”

  “Dancing?”

  She nods, already scrambling up. “Yeah, dancing. Let’s get done up and go out, find some music and some people and celebrate the fact that you just threw a fucking baseball.”

  I stand and follow her as she starts walking toward our bedroom, shedding her shoes as she does, starting on her denim shirt next, and then the shirt beneath it. When I get to the bedroom, she’s naked except for a red lace bra and the jeans she’s skinnying out of to reveal matching panties and I can no longer think.

  “Does that sound like a good idea?”

  I nod, aware that I’m no longer hearing her but would agree to anything so long as I could watch her peel out of her clothes for the rest of my life. When she stills, I look up at her and she raises a brow. “Are you even listening to me?”

  I shake my head and she laughs. Then I grab her and toss her on the bed, craving her in a way that no other thing in my life comes close to mimicking.

  ~

  Two hours later, I’m showered, dressed, and having a beer in the kitchen while Yogi eats his dinner and I wait for Blue to finish primping. She called her two friends from the salon to meet us, explaining to me that I needed male companionship and Liam was actually a big baseball fan. Since I didn’t care as long as Cora’s there, I nodded and came out to wait.

  My phone rings and I take it out, frowning when I see my dad’s name light up the screen. Swiping my finger across it, I set my beer down.

  “Hey, Old Man, how’s it goin’?”

  “Old man, is it?” His voice is scratchy but sounds mostly steady, which means he hasn’t had enough to drink today to make this conversation painful. Exhaling a tense breath, I smile and pick my beer back up again.

  “Well, I guess if thirty’s the new twenty, forty can be the new thirty, which means at forty-five you’re not that old.”

  “Smartass,” he says, and I can hear the affection. “What are you doing? Still living in that hippie city and chasing the pretty girl?”

  I called my dad the first month I was here to let him know about my move, and then ab
out Cora. I didn’t give details, but I suddenly wish I had so I could have him give me advice — another odd desire as I haven’t asked anything from my dad since I was fifteen and it was clear he could barely cope with his own life. But right now, able or not, I need fucking clarification. Whatever I’m doing with Cora has changed me, but who I am hasn’t changed, as if that makes any sense. She feels like my center, but today I was reminded that my center is baseball, and it may be mine again soon. Which means leaving Cora.

  When my dad repeats his question, I come back and laugh, swallowing down the rest of my beer in one gulp to clear my throat of the fear that’s suddenly sitting there. “Yeah, still living in Portland, still chasing the pretty girl, but she lets me catch her now and then to reward me.”

  He grumbles something on the other end and, because Cora steps out at the same time, I don’t hear him clearly. She smiles as she sashays forward, fully aware of the picture she makes in the skintight, shiny black pants that fit like a second skin and end in skinny black heels with silver studs and a million straps that crisscross up to her ankles and let her red toes peak out. Her shirt is black lace and sleeveless. It should be modest in the way it fits her to her hips, leaving only her toned arms bare, except it’s not because I can see everything beneath it, right down to the straight black piece of fabric that’s confining her breasts while still offering a tempting view of that lace covered cleavage. Jesus.

  Her lips are pinker, her eyes darker, and everything in me is hard as a rock. My dad’s still jabbering and I tear my eyes away from her mouth to meet her eyes while I listen.

  “How’s the elbow?”

  I nod and then realize he can’t see me. “Good,” I croak out and Cora smiles, stepping closer until her perfume, an exotic scent that’s barely there until you’re close enough sneaks out and wraps around me.

  “Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I’m just about to head out.”

  “Take care of your arm. Throw ‘em hard, Jake.”

  I soften slightly at the sentiment — the same one he’s always given me as a goodbye or good luck. “Always do,” I respond and click off.

  “Who was that?” Cora asks and I shake my head.

  “I don’t know. Wow. You look… wow.”

  Her smile is all female confidence and satisfaction. “You’re pretty wow yourself.” Then she holds out her hand, no hesitation, no uncertainty, and I lace my fingers with hers. “Let’s go celebrate you, Handsome Jake.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Cora

  The club is loud and packed when A.J. pours herself onto one of the abandoned stools at our table. I sat a moment ago, having left the dance floor in search of something to cool my throat and my skin. Jake can dance, like, really move in more than the usual awkward white boy grab-her-hips-and-gyrate-back-and-forth way.

  I’m embarrassed to admit that he’s definitely the one keeping us afloat on the floor, as all I seem capable of doing is holding onto him. Now, he’s headed toward the bar to get a mineral water and lemon for me and another beer for himself, and I’m sitting with A.J. while Liam spits some serious game with a redhead in the corner. When the girl bites her lip and flips her hair for the fifth time, I can practically see the triumph on his face. I never would have pegged Liam as a player, but watching him work I’m certain this is a regular activity for him.

  I look around at the other people crowding the bar and the dance floor, the dark corners that house couples, the balcony where still more people stand and flirt, watch the dance floor and wait for their turn, and I realize that after more than a year away from this scene, I haven’t missed it. Being with Jake on the dance floor was nice — more than nice when I pressed up against him and he moved in a way that showed me his skills reached far beyond the bedroom or the ball field — and it made me realize that what used to be something that filled me, gave me energy and purpose, now only means something because he’s here with me. It’s not the club that has me happy and relaxed, almost content. It’s Jake.

  “Looks like I’ll be getting myself home,” A.J. says with a motion toward Liam and I laugh, tuning back in, grateful for her interruption from the path my thoughts were taking. Giving in, I prop my feet on the stool across from me. My studded Alexander McQueen peep-toe booties sparkle back at me, and I wince when I think of the walk home in them. Sexy? Yes. Comfortable after two hours of dancing and walking in them? Not exactly.

  “We’ll get you there,” I tell A.J. when she mirrors my pose. “Besides, I thought Chloe was meeting you here.”

  “We broke up,” she says and I stop admiring my feet long enough to shoot her a look.

  “When?”

  “A couple of days ago when it became clear that however into me she was, it wasn’t enough for her to be open and honest with the people in her life.” A.J. shrugs her shoulder and clicks on her phone, scrolling through some texts, looking busy to mask what I think is the hurt in her voice. “I don’t hide who or what I am, and since that’s what she needed from me, I decided to take a walk.”

  “That black and white?” I ask and her eyes stop scanning her screen long enough to shoot to me.

  “Yeah, Snow White, that black and white. You’re either with someone or you’re not. Hiding them isn’t the way to show them you want to be with them.”

  “Was she hiding or was she trying to figure it out? You said it yourself, you’re her first serious girlfriend, the first person she’s done more than go to dinner with. However ready she might be, she’s also probably pretty scared. Doesn’t she deserve some slack?”

  I don’t know why I’m defending Chloe, especially since I’ve only met her a handful of times, each one in passing at the salon. All I can see is that A.J. walked away from someone that made her happy because she was hurt. I’ve been in counseling long enough to know that walking away from things, from people, can be just as dangerous for a person as staying. There’s a precious balance we have to work to maintain, the one that allows us to be more open, more accepting, more willing to try, and the one that tells us when enough is a enough, when it’s time to walk away and save ourselves anymore unnecessary hurt. For whatever reason, the way A.J. looks is telling me walking away isn’t necessarily the best decision for her or Chloe right now.

  “What do you know about being scared, Snow White?”

  It’s a challenge, and one she’s earned, so I lean back and cross my ankles. “I wanted everyone to love me and no one to know me, A.J., and as a result I got married and divorced before my twenty-first birthday, stopped talking to my parents, and ended up in rehab. I’m over a year sober now, and because I didn’t walk away, didn’t let anger and fear rule me, that hottie walking toward us is sleeping in my bed regularly. And more, he’s with me right now, dancing and celebrating a night that’s important to him, and he’s friends with my friends. That’s something I was too afraid to have a couple of years ago, because I was afraid the hurt would be too much in the end.”

  “How do you know it’s going to end?”

  I want to say I don’t, that what we have has shown me that it doesn’t have to, that what I feel with him is so strong, so different than I ever imagined real love could be that I know it actually has a chance, but I can’t. Since the beginning, I’ve known why Jake was here, what he was working toward. Our futures don’t line up, so all we can take is right now.

  “Sometimes you can see the end before it even starts,” I tell her. “And still, what we get in those brief moments together is enough to make the ending worth it.”

  She stares at me, keeps staring even as Jake sets down my water and stands beside my chair, sipping his beer.

  Then she shakes her head. “Goddamn, Snow White, anytime you want to change teams you let me know.”

  “And me,” Jake says and we all laugh.

  A.J. rakes her multicolor nails through the side of her hair that’s long. “It’s been a long time since I was ashamed of who I was, and I didn’t like it then. I like it even less now, especial
ly since someone who matters is the one making me feel this way. It wasn’t so bad when it was a stranger, but now, when it’s the person I want to feel for me the way I feel for her? It hurts a lot and I can’t fucking stand it.”

  I think back to when it was my mother making me feel like less, when all I wanted was for her to tell me just once that I mattered or that I looked nice, that she noticed me, maybe even she loved me. And now I think about all of the regrets I have because of how I responded to her carelessness, how many times I didn’t tell her I loved her or needed her or respected her, and I realize the bad things can’t be the only things that matters. Sometimes, you have to move forward, and know that the pain may be there and you can survive it.

  “Are your feelings for her going away just because you walked?” She shakes her head. “Are you feeling any better about yourself?” She hesitates and then shakes her head again. “Then maybe you should call her, try introducing her to a small group of people first, see how it goes. And be patient,” I tell her, looking at Jake. “It helps when you’re scared to know that someone’s willing to wait it out and just be there, no matter how often you tell them to go away.”

  I watch her walk away to call Chloe a minute later and then Jake turns my chair so my legs fall and he’s standing right in front of me. When he brackets his hands on the back of it and leans down so our eyes are level, I smile and reach out, tracing my fingertip across his brow, over and down his straight nose to his lips. He’s wearing one of the few button downs he owns, this one a dark blue denim, paired with his khaki colored cords, cuffed and resting on the top of his lace up brown boots that aren’t vintage and trendy, but worn and well lived in. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and I trace his tattoo while he looks down at me, mesmerized as always with the words that he chose to make a part of himself.

  “You’re going to do it, Handsome Jake.” I linger on the last letter and then look up at him, inches away from those beautiful brown eyes. “You’re going to get your dream back. You’re going to rise from this, too.”