More Than A Fling

by Amber Nation

  The fact that he took time out of his day just trying to reach out to me, made me fall for him just a bit more. My heart wanted me to go all in into the possibility of Dean and me. All I had to do was take a running start and cannonball my way in. But the problem was my head. It wouldn’t even allow me to take the first step. Therefore, after my stomach did a happy little somersault, the scrooge had to make itself known with raging fists and come up with various excuses as to why we just couldn’t happen. And even so I was grasping at straws, because they weren’t even the least bit viable.

  We lived in different states. As true as that statement was, it wasn’t something that couldn’t be easily remedied. There was nothing or no one truly tying me to Nashville since my best friend had moved away. I was a hair stylist, I could find work anywhere with ease.

  He had been divorced twice. No big secret there, but then again, so had I.

  Could I actually allow myself to love again? To be vulnerable enough to completely open my heart and soul to another man? I’d done that more than once and look where it had gotten me.

  I did have to admit, that as annoying as Dean Parker could be, I actually missed his face a little bit.

  Ok, a lot.

  When I had gotten home from the airport, I immediately slammed my front door shut and slid my entire body down to the floor. My feet were sprawled out in front of me with one of my shoes halfway off of my heel, the contents of my purse spilling out, and my suitcase long forgotten on my front porch. I didn’t care about anything. My shoulders began to forcefully shake as uncontrollable sobs racked my body. I cried harder than I ever remembered crying before. The debilitating ache in my chest hurt worse than the love my mother couldn’t give me and more than any pain I suffered at the hands or mouths of my ex-husbands.

  I cried for what could’ve been between Dean and me, if only I could completely overlook my past and misgivings.

  Cried for my inability to see what the future held for myself.

  And most of all, I cried for the child I may or may not be carrying and how I didn’t think I could make it as a mother. It wasn’t as if I had the best role model to lead by example. But, I did have my nanny, and she was such a blessing. The mother I should’ve had.

  I sat against the door until I fell asleep, exhausted from shedding so many tears, my coat still firmly secured around my body.

  The chime of my text tone pulled me out of my thoughts and I leaned forward in my stylist chair, pulling my phone from off the top of my station. My stomach did another flip when I saw that the text was from Dean.

  Dean: There should be a package for you delivered at your work today. Please wait until you get home to open it and call me before you do.

  No sooner did I finish reading the text and replied back with a simple, “Ok,” Lisa hollered at me from the front of the Salon.

  I pushed myself from my chair and made my way towards the front but I apparently wasn’t walking fast enough, because she impatiently yelled, “Hey, Jules!”

  I rounded the corner of the partition that separated the waiting area from the rest of the Salon, “Hold your horses!” I shouted, getting annoyed. “I can’t tell if this is a place of business and relaxation with all the blasted yelling,” I added with an edge of annoyance, while I looked at my receptionist, Lisa.

  Placing my hands on my hips, I raised my brows, as if I was asking, what?

  “Oh,” she snapped her mouth closed, then pointed over her shoulder towards the gentleman in the dark brown uniform. “He says he has a package for you.”

  I took three steps towards them and glanced at the delivery man, then Lisa, then back at him, “And she couldn’t sign for it?”

  He quickly shook his head, “No ma’am,” I flinched at the thought of actually being old enough to be called ma’am before refocusing my attention. “I have strict instructions to hand the package only to you.” He thrust his electronic pad in my direction, waiting on my signature.

  “Damn, Dean really wanted to make sure I received it. What the hell is it, a Faberge Egg?” I signed the small rectangle before clipping the pen back in position and handing the electronic device back to him. He proceeded to hand me a small box, about the size of a coffee mug. Heck it could really be a Faberge Egg or a coffee mug. Now I was intrigued.

  I thanked the delivery man, then spun around until I was met face to face with a curious looking Lisa.

  “Yeah?” I was becoming irritated with her today.

  “Who’s Dean and why is he sending you super-secret gifts?”

  I didn’t realize that I actually said his name out loud. I wanted to lie, tell her he was my accountant or something equally as probable. I didn’t know exactly what he was to me and if I actually let my emotions show that I was the least bit interested in him, then it would become all too real. So, I took the pathetic way out like the coward that I was convinced I was turning into. “Curiosity killed the cat, Lisa.” I stepped around her and walked back to my station, shoving the box into my purse. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

  I tossed my purse and keys on my kitchen counter before grabbing my phone and the mysterious box out of the inside pocket. Placing the box in the middle of my small, round kitchen table, I took a seat and rested my chin on my forearms, eyeing it cautiously, like it was an explosive that had my name on it. The idea that he would go out of his way to send me something was perplexing. The texts were more than enough. What was in the box could be nothing to worry about, but then again it could definitely be something.

  My mind was a jumbled mess and I was confusing myself and talking in circles.

  Then came the fact that he wanted me to call him before I even opened it. I hadn’t spoken to him, other than by text, in the week since I left Cottage Grove. Where I said too much and at the same time, not enough.

  With the internal war raging on in my head about whether or not to call him or change my number entirely, he took the decision out of my hands. I hadn’t anticipated him calling me instead.

  Dean calling… flashed on my screen. Yes, I’d changed it from Sex God, but he should feel lucky it was his own name and not Asshole.

  I contemplated hitting ignore and sending the call to voicemail. But the weak part of me won. I wanted to hear his voice.

  “Hello,” I said, after bringing the phone to my ear.

  “Julia…” He responded with the low timber of his voice, then sighed. The moment I heard his voice come through my end of the phone, the dormant butterflies that had settled in my stomach began fluttering around anxiously.

  “Dean,” I breathed, as if his name was a natural extension of my own.

  “Ah, I love it when you say my name. Although, I love it more when you scream it. Do it again,” he asked. His boldness didn’t have any bounds, even over the phone he had the effect to make me blush.

  I couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my lips. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

  “There she is. Julia is now ready to come out and play. Be nice to a man too much and he would start to expect it. But throw in your bitchiness every now and again and he’ll learn to appreciate the nicety.”

  Feeling the anger surge in my chest at his audacity. “Dean, I never claimed to be a nice person. If you want nice, you’ll have to shop elsewhere.”

  “Julia, three days ago I sent you a text with a song title. It was a song that reminded me of you. What was that song?”

  I didn’t even have to think back to what it was, I already knew. “Just the Way You Are,” I answered as I drew imaginary circles on my table with my forefinger.

  “Right. I’m into you Just. The. Way. You. Are.” He enunciated each individual word. “Now, did you get my gift?”

  “I did,” I answered as I looked up at the box. It just sat there, unmoving, mocking me.

  “Did you open it?”

  “You asked me not to.”

  “Good, go ahead and open it… if you want.” He almost sounded a bit unsure of himself. Nothing like
the Dean that I knew.

  I drew the box towards me and cradled the phone on my shoulder. I didn’t have a pair of scissors handy, which was odd even for me. I briefly considered retrieving a knife from the kitchen drawer, but I didn’t want to waste any more time and I’d have it open just as fast by peeling off the tape. So I picked at the bottom edge, lifting it until I could get a good grasp on the tape and pulled it until it was completely off of the box.

  I bent back the flaps and nestled inside was yet another box, this one wrapped in Christmas paper. “Ok, I’ve opened the box, but now I have to unwrap the actual gift.” I wanted to give him some reassurance and to let him know where I was in the opening process.

  “Keep going…”

  The wrapping job was less than stellar, but he received extra points because I could tell he did it himself. “I almost feel bad for opening it. I didn’t get you anything. But then again, I didn’t buy one single Christmas present for anyone.”

  “Julia, that’s not what this is about. I don’t expect anything in return. This was just something that I wanted to do.”

  I ripped the paper quickly, revealing a plain white box. When I opened the flap to get to the actual gift inside, my heart lodged in my throat. My hand flew to my mouth and tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t even begin to formulate any words, they were stuck behind my heart unable to find a way around it to break free.

  Resting upon red tissue paper was a hand-painted ceramic ornament. He was recreating the tradition from my nanny… The ornament was a snowman and woman, both clad with coordinating winter hats, both with coal smiles that matched one another. And on the bottom of the snow embankment where the snow couple was perched, were the words, “Our First Christmas 2014- Julia & Dean.”

  How could my heart feel like it was healing and breaking at the same time?

  “Julia?” He asked, sounding rather sad. He must’ve taken my silence as a negative thing. In all honesty, I didn’t know it to be negative or positive.

  I had to think of something to say and fast. Something that didn’t confirm nor deny my love for this gift. Because I really did love it.

  “This gift is rather presumptuous of you, Dean.” I finally picked up the ornament and traced my fingers along the written words, where each line began and ended, the curvature of the penmanship. It was my new favorite ornament and one that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to put away.

  “Nah,” he said, I detected a bit of playfulness in his tone before he turned serious, “I’ve always been a foregone conclusion. Just waiting for your head to catch up to what your heart wants.”

  Yeah, me too, I wanted to say. I wanted so badly to let him in, but I just couldn’t break down the remainder of my walls. They were meticulously placed there for protection. But instead I replied with, “Using such big words, huh?”

  “Well, as you so dutifully pointed out, I did attend seven years of college. I know a big word or two.”

  I sighed, my voice trembling as I finally let the tears fall down my face, “Thank you. Thank you so much for this.”

  Chapter 18

  Julia

  A month has now gone by since the conversation over Dean’s gift to me. We talk every now and again, but the conversations have been more and more sporadic lately since I can’t express the words and feelings my heart wants to. My head was giving a whole new meaning to the word stubborn. I wanted to give him a chance, really, I did. But I would constantly be on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because being in love with me, it was inevitable that the bottom would fall out. And then where would that leave me? In even more of a heartbroken mess than I’ve ever been in, that’s where. Dean had the power to completely wreck me and shatter the pieces to my heart. I wished they made hearts indestructible, I would be first in line for that bitch.

  Every time he would call, he would all but profess his love to me, never actually coming out and saying those three words. And I would constantly dodge any bullet of expressing any feelings of my own. I was almost to the point where I wished he’d back off and go find someone who could give him everything he deserved and loved him how he should be loved. But for some reason he just wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

  It was almost February and at the Salon things were bustling with the upcoming Hair Show. It was every talented hair stylist’s dream to have their hard work showcased. With the six stylists we had renting booths at Violet, we each had two models. On the day of the actual show, my models would have their hair colored in the richest of colors and styled in ways that were unimaginable to the everyday person. I always looked forward to the Hair Show, but this year was an exception. I was overly tired and even more overly stressed. Dean tried calling me and I didn’t even mean to snap at him. Most of the time my digs were done purposefully and this one slipped right through my lips. I could tell when he quickly bid farewell that I hurt his feelings.

  I was currently cleaning up my forty-something client’s neckline with my clippers, and instead of swiveling the chair, I turned my body too quickly and a wave of dizziness hit me head on. I had to brace myself on the edge of his shoulders to keep from falling over.

  “Whoa,” I said, pressing my hand to my chest, clearly having the wind knocked out of me. “I am so sorry,” I apologized profusely, not meaning to grab ahold of his person.

  He eyed me with a raised brow from the rectangular mirror that was hanging before us, “Are you all right, Julia? You are looking a bit pale.”

  My first instinct was to lash out asking how he could tell, my skin was already as white as it could be, but when I took a good look at my reflection, he was right. My face was completely flushed and I had deep dark purple rings stacked underneath my eyes. I prided myself in always trying to look my best, but right now I was anything but. I looked rough and that was putting it extremely mildly.

  My eyes found their way back to his and his brows had knitted together inquisitively, as if he was concerned for my well-being. I flashed him my best smile and rested my hand lightly on his shoulder, “I’m fine, Dave. Just didn’t get a good night’s sleep last night. I’ll be sure to go to bed extra early tonight.” I turned the chair so I could finish up his cut and send him on his merry way.

  “You must be so tired from running off all those men all the time.”

  I couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled from my throat, “You’re funny, Dave.”

  I set my clippers on top of my station and took my neck duster to sweep away all the remaining little wisps of hairs, unsnapped the black cape with the custom Violet signature and ushered him to the receptionist to check out.

  The possibility of being pregnant was always at the forefront of my mind. And given this bout of dizziness, along with my stress and tiredness, I knew in my heart that I was.

  The thought of waiting another minute without knowing for sure put me severely on edge. I pulled out the drawer to my personal cubby at my station, grabbed my purse and keys and waved at my staff behind me as I headed for the door.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Lisa at her desk before I pushed open the glass door, hearing the bell that signaled my departure.

  Thirty minutes later, I had the saturated pee stick resting on the vanity in the bathroom of the Salon. I was breaking out in a sweat on my forehead and my heart was racing a mile a minute as I paced back and forth along the sand colored tile floor. Three minutes, one hundred and eighty seconds, no matter how you broke the time down it didn’t seem to speed it up any.

  “Crazy” by Gnarles Barkley began playing from my spilled purse in the far corner of the floor in the one person bathroom.

  My ringtone for Dean.

  Shit, why was he calling now?

  Well, I guess there was no time like the present for him to find out the news right along with me. I bent down, grabbing the strap of my gray hobo purse, and dug around my wallet, finding the ringing contraption.

  I quickly answered before bringing the phone to my ear, tentatively sayin
g, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Julia,” I didn’t think there would ever be a time when I didn’t get weak in the knees whenever I heard him breathe my name into the phone. Hearing his voice immediately made some of my nerves dissipate, but that could change within a moment’s notice once the results displayed themselves.

  “Dean, I think I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy you called. I really want to apologize for flying off at you earlier. I’m tired from all this planning for the Hair Show. And that’s no excuse.”

  “Sweetheart,” I gasped hearing the term of endearment he had for me; he hadn’t said it since the day I left Cottage Grove. This was just going to make things harder. He went on as if he hadn’t heard the obvious hitch in my breath. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, you just voluntarily apologized to me. Wait...wait a minute!” He slightly shrieked, “You like me…”

  Here we go again with that statement. I rolled my eyes, but found myself smiling, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  I heard him release a long, drawn-out sigh, “This. Talking to you, hearing your voice through the phone helps me sleep at night. Although, I’d rather have you right next to me.”

  “Dean…”

  “I know, I know. You don’t want to hear me say things like that. But you know what, tough shit. You’re going to hear me say them for as long as it takes for you to admit it to yourself that we belong together. You are a stubborn woman, but you know what? I’m just as stubborn and relentless. I am after all an attorney, I’m the worst kind of ruthless. I will stop at nothing to get what I want. And I fucking want you.”

  “Why?” By this time, I was leaning my free arm against the counter and tears have again welled up in my eyes. I had never been this emotional prior to meeting Dean. But everything he said, everything he did constantly pulled at my heartstrings. There was a slight tremble in my voice, “Why do you want me?”