The Romance Novel Cure

by Ceves, Nina

  “Come on,” I said, taking a few steps backward, tugging her hand gently. “I’ll make you an omelet.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she said breathlessly.

  I walked her to her car and watched her drive off. I took a shaky breath and walked quickly to my car. For the entire ride back I took deep, even breaths, trying to get a handle on myself. I could not stop thinking about kissing Greta.

  We pulled into the parking lot at the same time, and walked upstairs together. I said a silent prayer that we would not run into our neighbors, Amy and Mark. We didn’t. Once inside, I put on some music and started assembling ingredients for spinach mushroom omelets. I put some rice in the rice cooker and got a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Greta came into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching me. I handed her a glass of the cold, white wine and went back to cooking. She told me about something that happened at work, speaking a little quickly, sounding excited, or anxious. I made myself take my time, hoping it wasn’t obvious how out of control my feelings were. The omelet didn’t break apart. I served our meal and sat down.

  “Oh wow, yum,” said Greta, taking a big bite. She ate a few more bites, but I had put my fork down, not having eaten any, and watched her. She looked at me.

  “What?” she smiled in embarrassment, wiping at her face with her napkin. I threw mine onto the table and got up quickly and went around her side. I took her hand and pulled her up into my arms. I took her face into my hands and I kissed her.

  I kissed her.

  Her lips were warm and sweet against mine. I pulled my head back, with difficulty. I reached down and grabbed her hands and placed them on my chest.

  “Tell me to stop, Greta, push me away,” I said, my voice sounding unfamiliar, it was hoarse with tension and desire. “Do you want me to stop?”

  With a small cry she wrenched her hands out of mine and reached up around my neck, pulling me down into another kiss. Words, thoughts — everything seemed to leave except this burning need to kiss her more. The feeling of her lips sliding against mine, of her hot mouth opening, her slick tongue against mine. I was gone. She pulled me closer, my hardness encountering the softness of her belly. I saw stars, breathing as fast as though I’d just run a race.

  Our doorbell buzzed.

  It buzzed again.

  Greta pulled away from me, catching her breath. I swore, my chest heaving. Dimly, I was aware that my phone had chimed a few times with incoming texts. I took a deep breath, rubbing my face. Greta put a hand up to her forehead as though checking for fever.

  Silently we went to the door.

  It was Scott, looking upset. He ran his hands through his straight, blond hair and his green eyes looked even greener than usual, because they were reddened, as though he’d been crying.

  “Come in,” I said, “what’s going on? Did you just text me?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said grimly, taking in our flushed faces and the dinner table with one swift glance. “I thought Patrick might have called you, or stopped by. I can’t find him.”

  “Come sit down,” said Greta, worriedly. “Do you want a glass of wine? Something else?”

  “No, no thanks.” He ran his hand through his hair and sat on the edge of a chair in our living room. “We had gotten some possibly good news about an adoption, and then found out that it was not happening. Patrick took it really hard. It has been this roller coaster, you know?”

  I grabbed my phone and checked any messages, but there were just two from Scott.

  “He hasn’t called me, hasn’t contacted me all day. Scott, I’m sorry I missed your call.” I sent a quick text to Patrick, asking him to get in touch with me, asking if he were all right.

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry to barge in.” He stood up. “I’m going to keep calling him, keep looking for him. I just thought he might have brought the rest of the pants over. He said, after you left, that you were the kind of friend who you could talk with about anything. He doesn’t open up much around people, so I just thought…”

  “First of all, you are not barging in,” I said. “I’m glad you came by. I’m sorry this has been such a rough time. Maybe he’ll show up here. If he does, I’ll call you. Maybe he is already on the way home.”

  “Yeah, I’ll check,” he said, sounding unconvinced, as he went to the door.

  “Please tell him… tell him that I’m thinking of him,” said Greta, quietly.

  We said quick good-byes and he was gone.

  Greta and I just looked at one another. I couldn’t believe we’d been kissing just moments before.

  “Let me heat up the food,” I said.

  “I’m fine with it cold,” she said, sitting down and resuming eating. I sat across from her and we finished eating quickly. I kept my phone on and in my pocket. We cleaned up quietly and turned the kitchen light off.

  “Do you want to watch Downton Abbey?” Greta looked up at me.

  Didn’t she know I would do anything to be with her, to be near her? I smiled and nodded. We both got changed. I put my phone on the coffee table and we started watching. I was completely lost but I didn’t care.

  “I hope Patrick’s home now,” she said at one point, interrupting Lady Mary being snarky to Lady Edith.

  “I’ll check,” I said, and sent a brief text to Scott.

  I didn’t hear back.

  When the episode was over, we sat quietly.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Kissing you, Greta…” I took her hand.

  “Yeah,” she breathed, and smiled shakily.

  “Was it okay?” I moved closer to her, looking into those blue eyes.

  Greta

  All throughout the episode of Downton Abbey, my lips tingled with the memory of that kiss. Everything tingled from the memory of that kiss. It had been so hot, but also tender. I could not stop thinking about it. I kept remembering too, when he had stopped me in front of the restaurant, wanting to be alone with me. That had been so romantic. So hot.

  When Ben and I were sitting together, after watching Downton Abbey, he asked me if it had been okay that he had kissed me. His eyes were so dark and full of concern. I melted.

  “Okay?” I said, my voice wobbling, “Ben. Yes.”

  He smiled and took my hand, his thumb rubbing my fingers gently. He pressed a kiss on my knuckles.

  “Well, I want to stay up, a little longer, to see if I hear back from Patrick or Scott,” he said, “you ready for bed?”

  “I’ll stay up with you for a while,” I said, looking down.

  “Yeah?” he smiled. “You want another episode, or you want a bedtime story?”

  “A story?” I asked, confusedly.

  “Okay, then, a story it is,” he said, and got up and got his iPad. “I’ll read to you this time, how about that?”

  I sunk into the couch pillows, nodding, looking down. I already felt my cheeks heating up.

  “I read a little more since last night. Now, every word I read? I hear it in my head in your voice.”

  I looked up, startled.

  He read:

  * * *

  Sera opened her eyes and smiled. Silas came into the bedroom, naked, carrying a tray.

  “Mmmm. The morning after the third date is looking good already,” she mumbled, smiling widely.

  He carefully placed the tray on the bed.

  “I didn’t know what you liked,” he said, sounding unaccustomedly unsure of himself, “so, I made you coffee, and tea, and I’ve got some slices of apple here, and toast.”

  Sera’s heart clenched as she looked at the vulnerable look on Silas’s face.

  “I love coffee and tea and apples and toast,” she said, her voice scratchy. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, least I can do for my life saving… girlfriend,” he said, trying to grin cockily. But his eyes were dark, locked on hers.

  Sera took a sip of tea, handing him the coffee.

  “Girlfriend?” she whispered.

  He grinned quickly, looking down at his coffee, taki
ng a sip. He clamped his lips and kept looking down.

  “Hey, boyfriend,” she said, her voice low, “I need a little sugar…”

  “I’ll get some…” Silas started to rise, but she grabbed his hand. She set her cup down on the bedside table and took his mug and set it down. She tugged his hand, pulling him down to her so she could kiss him. She nuzzled his neck and kissed his lips softly, pulling him down onto the bed with her. She rolled on top of him.

  “Mmm, sweet,” she said, kissing his lips again, and again. “Gimme.”

  * * *

  Ben

  Rule number five: It’s not just about taking care of her; it’s about making her feel special. Make sure Greta knows she is special to me.

  Rule number six: It’s okay to let her know I care— a lot— about her. Let Greta see that. I care about her.

  Greta

  I had been looking down, feeling shy, but as Ben read, I looked up and watched his face. He was so absorbed in the words. It thrilled me and touched me more than I could express. I felt as though I could never get enough of hearing those words from his mouth, those gorgeous lips that had been kissing me so passionately. I sighed, watching and listening, the words traveling through the air and into my ears and mind, so that I could see the scene unfolding.

  * * *

  “My turn,” said Silas, quickly rolling on top of Sera, kissing her neck. “So sweet,” he murmured as he licked and caressed her. Silas began to kiss a trail down her belly. Lower, and lower.

  * * *

  “Oh, no, Ben, no, you have to stop reading,” I squeaked, hiding my face in the pillow.

  “What? Stop here? No fair,” he grinned, his face flushed. “You’ve already read this part, you know what happens. I’ve got to find out.”

  I listened and listened, needing to sit up and cross my legs, sit back and uncross them, then sit back up and cross them. I tried to do it very subtly, but Ben gave me a wicked look out of the corner of his eyes.

  Ben

  Rule number seven: Do that thing.

  As if I’d need a reminder.

  Greta

  By the time that scene was over, I had practically—.

  Ben

  By the time I finished reading that scene, I had almost —.

  The next morning, I got up when I heard Greta in the shower. I made tea and opened the drapes, put on some music.

  “Hi!” she said, smiling so big when she came into the kitchen. I loved what a morning person she was. She poured herself a cup of tea, got the box of biscotti, and sat at the table next to me on the bench.

  “No word from Scott or Patrick?” she asked, seeing my phone by my hand.

  “No, but I’m sure I’ll see Scott at work and find out what’s going on,” I said.

  “Let me know, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Thanks for the tea,” she smiled, after a few moments.

  “I should have brought it to you on a tray.”

  She pursed her lips and smiled, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Seriously hot having you read to me last night,” she whispered.

  “Yeah?” I was thrilled.

  She nodded.

  “I’m so glad,” she started to say, and then fell silent.

  “Yeah?” I waited.

  “Just so glad, that we’re —.” She gestured between us, darting a look at me and then looking down.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, smiling a little.

  “I got so messed up about stuff,” she said, still looking down. I waited. “I’m sorry I took it out on you. I pushed you away, and then I started thinking that you didn’t want me anymore.”

  “Didn’t want you?” My chest hurt.

  “I just thought, things were so hard, and you might have regretted settling down with me, after not having dated a lot.”

  I hadn’t dated at all, and she knew that. I shook my head in confusion.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I thought you looking at other girls meant you wished you had had more girlfriends, before me, and… that you wished you could have girlfriends now, not me. You know: be single. Start over.”

  My throat hurt. My Greta, going through so much pain, had been thinking these thoughts?

  “Never,” I said firmly. “It wasn’t like that. Ever. Okay?”

  She nodded, darting a glance at me, and then looking down at the table.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” I continued, feeling for words, feeling as though I’d start crying any second. “But for me, porn was just a way to get from point A to point B quickly. And kind of an escape, when I felt frustrated.”

  “I know what that’s like,” she blinked back tears, taking a shaky breath. “I read a lot. And… I write. I just get lost in it, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I said, taking her hand across the table. “Greta. We’re good? We’re good, right? Or, we’re getting there. I pulled away, too much. I’m sorry. It’s an old, bad habit, me going off by myself like that. When I was a teenager.”

  She nodded, smiling so brightly at me, through the tears that still stood in her eyes.

  I swallowed past the hurt in my throat. She was so beautiful, so sweet.

  “You’re just… you’re the one for me. You’re mine, Greta. And I’m yours. I could never measure up to your romance book guys, but… I love you,” I forced the words out.

  “Measure up?” Greta’s eyes widened, “no, it’s not like that. Never.”

  All my swagger was gone but I knew it took courage for me to be as honest and open as I was trying to be.

  “You’ve got to tell me,” I looked down at her hand in mine, “if there’s anything you want. You know? Anything you think about. Or… read about. That maybe I don’t… you know? Just tell me. Okay?”

  “Ben,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes, “it was always so good, with you. With us, I mean. For me. You’ve got to know that.”

  I felt as though a huge rock were lifted from my shoulders.

  “Yeah?” I started to grin, sliding a little closer on the bench.

  Her cheeks got pink. “Heck, yeah.”

  I slid a little closer and kissed her cheek, then her neck. She swung a leg over one of mine. She was wearing a skirt and boots. I put a hand on her knee.

  Fireworks.

  “Oh, gosh, I have to go,” she said, sounding flustered.

  I bit back a groan, looking at the time on my phone.

  She kissed my cheek quickly, gathered her things and stood by the door. Her cheeks still looked pink. I propped my head on my fist and looked at her.

  “We’ve got therapy, I’ll see you there,” she said, breathlessly.

  I got up and walked to the door.

  “With the child psychologist,” I said.

  “Who is actually a child,” she said back, quick as can be.

  “Is she a prodigy or is every child psychologist an actual child?”

  She was laughing as she left.

  I groaned, sank onto the couch, and covered my face with one of the pillows. I bit it.

  Greta. Those eyes, her lips, her knees.

  At work, I checked Scott’s office. His car hadn’t been in the lot, so I didn’t expect to see him. He still hadn’t texted me. Around ten o’clock he arrived and went straight into his office. I had let Laura and Alma know what was going on, because basically we have no sense of boundaries. I knocked on his door, worried. He never arrived late, never shut his door.

  “Come in,” he called, his voice subdued.

  His face was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

  “Is Patrick home?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he finally came home. It was really late. He’d just been driving around, he said, trying to clear his mind.” Scott looked down at his desk.

  “I’m sorry things are so hard right now,” I said. “How about I head over to your place at lunch just to pick up the pants and check on him?”

  “That would be great. He’s not going into work tod
ay. He tends to isolate when he’s upset or depressed.”

  I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say or do, so I nodded again and waved awkwardly, backing out of Scott’s office.

  I texted Patrick with my plan of coming by and he texted back: k.

  Greta

  I left the condo feeling dizzy with desire, happiness, and hope. I couldn’t make myself count my blessings, before, when I felt so messed up, sad, and angry. I tried, but it didn’t work. Now, though, I felt so… blessed. Lucky. I felt as though I could face anything. All I wanted was to continue making things right with Ben.

  Before I got into my car, I looked at the Sandia mountains. I loved to pretend to take a picture of them every day, every time I looked at them. If I were by myself I even made a little clicking noise, and held my hands up to frame the mountains. In the morning, the afternoon, and at sunset, they looked different, each time. I felt so lucky to be in the presence of such beauty.

  Was I still sad? Yes. To be honest, I think a part of me always would be. But I was moving on. I still felt fragile, but stronger every day.

  I think I had just needed that time.

  I was sorry it had come at such a cost to my marriage. Sorry I had hurt the person I loved most in the world.

  But, I had hope.

  I was figuring it out, finding my way back to Ben.

  I smoothed my skirt against my legs. It was a skirt I had worn in the summer, but I had the idea to wear it with my suede boots and a sweater, and it worked.

  Things felt as though they were working out.

  Ben

  Patrick let me in the house with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He had several pairs of pants for me packed into a large bag, and I thanked him.

  “You… you okay?” I asked tentatively.