by Amber Scott
He released her hands and stood. “Believe it or not, I do understand, Millicent.” He left her, disappeared into his room, door closed. If he’d sounded angry, she might have followed him, ready to beg. But it hadn’t been anger sparking in his gaze. It was hope. And need.
Before his wake of silence sent her after him, he came back, a file in hand. The air between them returned to normal. One day, she’d brave a peek through that door and see what he hid in there. Not today. Today, she had to focus.
AJ shoved a thick file into her lap. The paper was icy cold. On second thought, maybe she’d just respect his privacy. Some doors weren’t meant to be opened.
She scanned the contents a moment. She hardly believed it. “Who gave you this?”
He gave her a wicked grin. “It’s a relationship file. Jason and Brooke’s relationship file.”
“It’s thick,” she said. “Why haven’t we gotten any relationship files before?” And why was it nearly frozen?
AJ leaned back and cocked a wider grin her way. “Let’s just say, we never had access to them before now.”
Millie’s thighs involuntarily flexed. “Access? How did you suddenly get—actually, I don’t want to know.” The image of him in some angel’s arms turned her stomach. AJ had his ways and could keep them. “I’ll take what I can get. Thank you for this.”
“My pleasure. Your wish can be my command. Remember?”
Oh, but the way he said those words. Dangerous to a girl’s will power. Part of her longed to test the invitation in his eyes. If she drank of his wine, she might never sober up, though. From the beginning, he’d let her know, partners in time crossing the sexual line wasn’t worth what it risked: severe punishment. Of course, she liked risk. But she couldn’t handle the punishment.
Clearing her throat, she opened the file. Brooke’s wedding photo, the same one from her entryway table, stared back at Millie. She let out a small gasp. This? Now, this was love. Pure, simple eat-your-heart-out-bitches love. All the annoying doubts Elliott’s entrance had stirred, quieted.
“I need a plan,” she said, her voice pitchy. Time to swallow her pride and accept help, libido be damned. “I mean, we need a plan.”
AJ winked at her, pretended to roll up his sleeves and rubbed his palms. “Just give me my orders, chief. I’m all yours.”
Visions of handcuffs and whipped cream came to mind. Did he realize how difficult he made straight thinking? “First, let’s list what we do know.” Millie grabbed a pen. “All of it. All three of them. Then let’s go through this marriage file. With everything in front of us….”
He clapped once. “Very good.” His hands were tan, long fingered, strong. “Would it help if we had one of those giant tablets you always see in office commercials?”
Millie laughed. He was really getting into this, wasn’t he? “Yeah, it would, but a napkin might have to do for now, or maybe an envelope from the junk mail.”
“Wait right here.” Again, he disappeared and reappeared from his lair. “Will this do?”
A white tablet-adorned metal tripod stand snapped together in front of her. AJ peered his head around and wiggled a marker in the air. “Green. For luck.”
“Where in the world did you get this and why do you have it? No, don’t tell me. You seduced some angel. Right?”
“No. Office Max.” As in, duh, Millie. “And watch this.” He reamed a page off and pressed it to the window. “It’s sticky.”
Now Millie wanted to clap. His enthusiasm was catching. Her growing heap of bleak dwindled into a tidy stack of doable, thanks to AJ. He handed her the marker and sat next to her. His spicy aroma tempted her nostrils. She suppressed a sigh. “Where do I—we begin, then?”
He shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
“Let’s start with Brooke.”
By ten p.m. they’d marked and hung three sheets worth of observations. Things that stuck out for Brooke, Jason, Elliott. AJ peeled off a fourth sheet, the list of her three questions: First: How to get Elliott out of the picture? He was a huge distraction. Yeah, he might have his uses, as AJ so pointedly argued, but Millie wanted him outta there. The fewer complications thrown her way, the better.
Second: What went wrong? She’d had Brooke’s ‘why stay with someone if they don’t make you happy’ version. Millie didn’t buy it. Well, she had up until the day she’d broken in and found the truth. Now, she needed to find the real cause. And fix it.
Third, and most important: How did she get Brooke and Jason in physical proximity so she and AJ could reignite the fire? Proximity was one third of the love equation, according to AJ. And of the two, he was the expert with countless matches completed. The other two factors were ruling hormones, which Jason and Brooke must have since it worked once, and being in the midst of change.
Millie glanced down at the remaining relationship file. What kind of ugly secrets lay waiting there, she couldn’t imagine. But, she was getting ahead of herself.
“Don’t get too wrapped up in the details,” AJ said as she tapped the marker to her cheek. “Chemistry can be the simplest thing or the hardest.”
“They’ve been in love before. How hard can it be?”
“Depends. Chemicals can be tricky.”
Did he realize how imperious he sounded? She almost pointed out that this was a brilliant example of why she’d tried to figure things out on her own. Probably practiced it in the mirror. No. Nevermind. Not worth it. She’d made more headway in the last hours than she had in months. So, AJ could condescend away, so long as he didn’t sit too close.
“Look for a theme,” AJ said. “Common denominators.”
In what? The heater kicked on making Brooke’s list shimmy. The bottom fluttered from view then fell back. The last line read: started own business. Life in change, right? Throughout her file, Brooke had kept to safe, dependable paths. Her high school drop out older sister popped in and out of the major parts. The sister’s bad decisions looked to have motivated Brooke’s good ones. Brooke studied, graduated, went to college, didn’t party, lacked promiscuity. She met Jason Munkle her junior year, got her BA and a husband in the same week. Boring, yes, but by all rights, should have been happily ever after. Even Hollywood said so.
Fifteen years later Brooke up and started a business. Woops. So long, fairytale. She hadn’t needed to financially. Kept pretty busy in an easy life. Yet she went and did it anyway. Why?
Millie frowned and sighed.
Next list, Jason. He worked in real estate and never struggled through market changes. He came from a stable, parents still married kind of family. He traveled a little, but always with his business partner, Zeke, who was also his oldest friend. Never showed any staying at the office late or other kinds of indicators of affairs. His file was clean. Simple. Until the divorce. Not long before losing Brooke, and it was definitely his loss, Jason’s partner sold his half of their business and moved to Sacramento. These days, Jason spent time at work and online. Chats. No porn. Boring times twenty.
Elliott’s file was dense. The further she had read, the more certain she became. He needed to exit stage left, ASAP. Not only was he poisoning Millie’s opportunities to match Jason and Brooke—twice already—but he was just plain wrong for Brooke.
He’d been in and out of juvie until he hit eighteen. He may or may not have dealt weed through his first two undergrad years and, then the clincher, his father was a definitely a felon, as in armed robbery. The last little tidbit might not be officially in his file but Millie had fought AJ and won. It was staying on the list. Right under Elliott’s age. Twenty-six years old. The deciding factor.
“No guy that young, that good looking, clearly rising above his background, is interested in a divorced older woman. Not for more than sex,” Millie argued.
“Maybe that’s a good thing, not a minus, but a plus.”
“Yeah, okay, only interested in sex could work. Brooke could get an ego boost. Might help relax her a little.” Man, Brooke was wound tight.
; Millie just worried he wouldn’t lose interest soon enough, as in today, instead of twenty nine days from now when she’d have to kiss AJ goodbye. Mmmm. Kiss AJ. The focus of her fantasies stood, hands on hips, staring down his office supplies. Reckless good looks amplified by the ordinary and mundane. And he really meant to help.
He wanted to keep her around, too.
If she did lose him, and she wouldn’t let herself dwell on the idea, would she give in to her lust? Would she strip down and beg him to make the world disappear? Lift her up, tie her down, all her luscious fantasies all night long?
Millie’s throat tightened. “It’s getting late.” If she didn’t get away from him soon she’d make a fool of herself. “Can we pick up on this in the morning?”
“Sure,” he said. He flexed his shoulders. “If you’re ready for bed.”
Oh, man, was she. But, she refused to let her eyes eat him up. Her pulse had already quickened from watching him. One more night falling asleep agitated. Ugh. Someday, she’d give in. Someday. But not tonight.
With each step she reminded herself. Its just chemicals. It’s not you. It’s him. The boy can’t help it. He does it to all the girls.
“Millie?”
She turned around, hand on the door. “Yeah?”
AJ stared at her a moment. What would she do if he ever decided to really seduce her? Cave. That’s what. But, she knew. He wouldn’t. He was more respectful than that.
“Nothing,” he said after a moment. “Sleep tight.”
“You, too.” She locked the door behind her. Not to keep him out. To try to keep herself in.
Chapter Twelve
Brooke recognized the noise that woke her. It was her front door shutting. Elliott had left. She felt it, too. She sat up. Awareness of her nudity washed over her, making her tug the covers higher. Everything she’d done rushed through her mind. Kissing Elliott on his desk, calling him, letting him in, culminating in….
Oh no. She’d fallen asleep after that amazing orgasm, hadn’t she?
Beautiful.
She didn’t know whether to speed dial and apologize, or thank her lucky stars she didn’t have to face him right now. She scanned the dark room for her phone and spotted it on her nightstand. A folded sheaf of paper lay under it. Curious, she picked up both and unfolded the note.
Brooke,
You fell asleep. Forget me.
-Elliott
She read the scrawl again, frowning. Forget me? Yep, that’s what it said. Forget him. Uh-oh. Far worse than awkward. She’d insulted him? Angry embarrassment flashed hot over her, head to toe. And to think, she’d almost been relieved to find herself alone. Now, she really had to call.
Either call and have the unnerving conversation now or risk running into him on campus later. The latter made her cringe inside. If he was mad, better to face it over the phone where he couldn’t see how much it mattered.
She moved to dial, but another thought paralyzed her. What would she say? Sorry I passed out? It wasn’t you, it was me? What if he’d left because he had found her lacking? What if he regretted ever buying her those books let alone making love to her?
Brooke thumbed over the phone’s keypad. She set it down. Forget it. She didn’t want to know what “Forget me” meant. In the end, it didn’t matter. Clearly, he didn’t want to see her again. Her eyes stung but she wouldn’t cry. There was no reason to cry. Never seeing him again, forgetting him, was best. Sensible. Brooke wasn’t ready for a first date let alone a long affair. A one night stand had been a stretch.
He was too young for her.
This was a good thing.
Then why did she feel so awful? She just needed to get some perspective and some sleep. Brooke laid back and shut her eyes. Visions of his face between her thighs materialized. She shoved them back. Plenty of time later to savor her secret rendezvous, once the sting of rejection faded and the longing for more eased.
Not now, not tonight. Decision firmly in mind, she punched her pillow into shape, rolled over and exhaled. Even Sampson had left her.
Three long, slow days later, she still lay in bed, staring at daylight streaming in through the blinds. Sampson crunching his lunch filtered from the kitchen. Her pajamas itched her skin. Her mouth felt slightly furry.
Her house phone rang.
Probably a telemarketer. No one else called her at home. Certainly, Elliott wouldn’t. He didn’t have her home number. Neither had he called her cell phone. Brooke sighed. Nope, no one else. Because it meant she could procrastinate showering for five more minutes, on the fourth ring, she gave in and answered.
“Hello? Brooke?”
She struggled to sit up. “Jason?” Sounding so good and sweet and, God, but she’d actually missed him.
“The one and same,” Jason said.
“Hey, you,” she said. His voice answered a prayer she didn’t realize she’d been making until now. Please, someone, care. Someone out there. Care. She didn’t even mind if he heard her relief. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Brooke. Really good.” He sighed like a person does after a satisfying laugh. “We didn’t really get to talk at the mall the other day. You looked great, by the way. Really great. Can you believe how long it’s been?”
“I can’t. Can you?” Eight months since their divorce. Eighteen since she had walked out.
“Hey, enough about all that. I’ve been meaning to call you. My mom’s been nagging me to call you. It’s Thanksgiving this Thursday.”
Brooke’s heart sank. “Yeah. I know,” she said. Nice of him to point it out.
“My mom wants you to come over for dinner. I mean, I do, too. I would like it if you came by for dinner. Unless you already have plans.”
“No, I don’t, but….” Thanksgiving with family, her old family? Her chest lifted. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Brooke, we had a good run of it and like my mom says, you’re still family. We don’t have kids to connect us. Not even a dog to fight over. But that doesn’t change fifteen years. They miss you.”
Fifteen good years. She hugged her pillow closer. “Alright.” No crying! Not yet. “When’s dinner?”
“You mean it? Oh, Mom’ll be so glad to hear you’re coming. And,” he cleared his throat. “She also emphasized, feel free to bring someone.”
Bring someone? Wow. Water must really be under the bridge, then.
A little more chitchat—like old friends—and Brooke sat staring at the receiver. She pressed the button to hang up. A long sigh pulled out of her. Jason.
Family. She could spend Turkey Day in the Munkle tradition of a house full of noise and banter and football. Maybe it would be weird. Or maybe it would be wonderful.
All forgiven.
Her feet did a rapid sheet dance, then she looked around her darkening room. Evening’s approach shoved off the afternoon sun that woke her. Chance of snow. Even better, the chance of her first shower in three days.
Whew, she stunk. Not that she’d spent every day in bed. In the same pajamas, yes, but she had worked. Some of the time. Studied, some of the time. Watched infomercials. Cried salty tears into a tub of fudgy ice cream wondering why Elliott hadn’t called her and what his jerkoff note meant, a lot of the time.
She couldn’t bring herself to call.
Another wave of embarrassment crashed over her. How could she face him on campus? What would she say? Would he just want to walk the other way, too?
No. She stopped herself. No more.
Thursday, the Munkles would enfold her back into their clan for another holiday. And she could bring someone. As soon as she showered, she’d call Millie —guilt trip in hand— and invite her.
Brooke held in her laughter, pulling the car up to the curb.
“Are you sure about this?” Millie asked.
She’d never seen Millie fidget so much. “Absolutely. You’ll see. There’ll be at least five other strays. It’s tradition.”
“Is stray the official terminology, then?” Millie scrunched u
p her nose. “Weird. No wonder you divorced him.”
“It’s not weird.” Brooke exited the vehicle and waited for Millie on the shoveled sidewalk. Soon, Brooke should have enough nerve to tell Millie about the disastrous night with Elliott. Or Brooke would bury the secret forever. It could go either way. “It’s thoughtful. The party gets bigger, no one spends the holiday alone. Jason’s mom can make pathetic attempts to play matchmaker with strangers.”
Millie’s eyes bulged. “You’re screwing with me. Tell me you’re screwing with me.”
Brooke’s supressed laughter tore free. “Maybe a little.”
They crunched up the driveway where shovel marks led a path to the front door. Tomorrow, every spare inch of the navy and gray suburbia cutout would wink with Christmas lights. “If you think I can face these people alone, Millie, you’re dead wrong.”
“Why, because they’re weird?”
Brooke rang the bell. “I swear. They’re not weird. They’re perfectly—.”
The door swung open. Nancy Munkle, her patchwork apron clinging for dear life, gasped at the sight of them. “Oh my lord, look at what the cat dragged in. Brooke, just look at you!”
“Nancy, hi,” Brooke said and returned the shorter woman’s hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“Come in, come in. Everyone’s here.” Nancy rushed their coats off, introduced herself to Millie then herded them to the living room. A football game roared in the background. Curious faces turned their way. Brooke smiled, her nerves tightening. Where was Jason? Ex or not, he anchored her to this family. She needed him near.
No such luck. A round of hellos and introductions later, Brooke took Millie on a small tour of the north Sparks home. Millie tugged her sleeve. “Do I have to remember all their names?”
Though Jason’s vacancy seemed to burn at her side, she wasn’t alone here. She had Millie. “No,” Brooke said. “Just remember Nancy.”
“Haleh-freakin-lujah. Now, where’s the booze and the other strays?”
Brooke picked one of the three naked artificial trees as their stand post, wine in hands, near the back door.