by Megan Green
I sit next to him, putting my arm around his shoulder as I hug him to me. “You going to be good for Mario tonight?”
After agreeing to meet up with Joey, I asked Mario to check in on Cade every so often while I was gone. I’d talked to Amber the day before, and she’d been overwhelmed with the houseful of brand new Great Dane puppies her dog had delivered the previous day, so I knew I couldn’t ask her to watch him for me. Mario was really my only other option. And, though I trusted him with my life, I hated the thought of leaving Cade alone in the apartment for even a minute.
Mario apparently saw through my attempt at nonchalance when I asked if he’d just peek his head in on Cade every hour or so until I got back.
He shook his head at me, grabbing my shoulders. “Don’t worry, topolino. I’ll make extra meatballs beforehand. The kitchen will be fine without me for a few hours. You go. Have fun. I’ll stay with Mr. Man Iron.”
I laughed at his botched use of Cade’s favorite superhero, but I hugged him to me nonetheless. “Thank you, Mario. That’s such a relief.”
Cade nods in answer to my question, eyes never leaving the TV. Mario knocks right at ten till six, like we agreed, and five minutes later, I’m out the door and making my way to Javier’s.
One good thing that comes out of not having anything fancy to wear tonight is not wearing heels. Javier’s is six blocks away, and while that isn’t far by most standards, walking six blocks in stilettos is not my idea of a good time. I look down at the Toms on my feet, sending them a silent thank-you for being so damn comfortable.
Now that I’m out of the house and in the fresh air, my head feels like it’s starting to clear. And annoyance is setting in. Not at the scores of people around me—though there are plenty of obnoxious people out on the streets this evening, already having had a few too many—but at myself.
What the hell was that back there?
I was the one who was reluctant to agree to this…meeting tonight. I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. Not Joey, not Cade, and not even myself. Despite our history together, Joey and I are strangers to each other now. He’s been through all kinds of shit I don’t even want to imagine. And I’ve gone through my own fair share of shit with James.
As much as the thought scares me, I know I need to get through leaving James on my own. I need to get back on my feet, both mentally and emotionally, before I even entertain the idea of another relationship. And maybe I won’t even be ready then.
Once before, I made the mistake of immediately falling into a relationship following the breakup of another one. I met James just several months after Joey left. I thought he’d solve all my problems. And look at how well that worked out for me.
No, even though I know Joey would do anything to help me, I can’t let myself go back there. I need to win back my confidence and my independence for me. And for Cade. Jumping into a relationship with a man I once knew is not the answer to my problems. And it would only lead to an abundance of others.
So, why did I allow my thoughts to go there?
I’ve been on my own for weeks now, and I haven’t once gotten lost in a fantasy like that. Not even after I spent an evening watching as many Marvel movies as we could squeeze in one night with Cade. Watching Chris Hemsworth wield his mighty hammer was sexy as hell. But I went to bed that night without a second thought about the Norse god.
But thinking of Joey and the look that might or might not grace his face if I’d dressed up for him had me panting and ready to strip down and finish the job right then and there.
I grumble with myself the entire six blocks it takes to reach Javier’s. By the time I get there, I’ve decided to chalk it up to sexual frustration and nothing more. Joey was the first man I ever slept with. He did things to my body in the past that nobody has been able to do since. So, of course, thoughts of him were what did it for me and not some random actor I’d never met. Thor had never had his hand in my pants, so why would I think thoughts of him would get me going?
And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Joey is still hot as fuck, and you want to jump his bones every time you lay eyes on him.
I squash that thought before it grabs hold, effectively silencing the obnoxious inner voice that’s been making itself known more and more lately. Pulling open the door, I step inside and scan the room until my eyes land on a familiar head of hair. His back is to me, but I’d be able to pick him out of a lineup, blindfolded, simply by his presence.
And you say you don’t know him anymore. There are some things you just never forget.
“Oh, shut up,” I mumble to myself. Apparently, it’s not quietly enough as I earn a few strange looks from the couple seated at the table next to me. I give them an apologetic smile and make my way over to Joey.
I’m glad he’s chosen Javier’s because my casual attire fits right in at the small Mexican restaurant. There are sombreros on the walls, the tables and chairs are all slightly scratched and dented, and the paint on almost everything is peeling back as if in protest. I relax immediately.
When I slide into the booth and see that Joey has two frozen margaritas ready and waiting, I could kiss him with how happy I am. But, of course, that would be a very bad idea, given my earlier little daydream. So, instead of acting out said fantasy, I wrap my lips around the straw, taking in a large mouthful of the strawberry-flavored bliss.
Joey smiles at me by way of greeting, watching me, as I suck down a few more swallows of my drink. When I finally feel like I have my head together—ironic since I just drank half of a margarita in about five seconds—I lift my mouth from the straw and smile.
“Hot out there, isn’t it?” I say, fanning myself. I nod toward the drink. “Thanks for having this ready. It really hits the spot.”
The corner of his lips quirks up into a half-grin. “Well, you could’ve saved yourself the walk if you’d just let me pick you up. Unlike the one I had when we were kids, my current truck actually has air-conditioning.”
I smile at the memories incited by the mention of his old truck. We had a lot of good times in that thing.
Joey seems to realize where my train of thought has gone because he smiles as well. “Good old Bessie. I sure do miss that truck sometimes. She was good to us.”
I nod. “That, she was.”
A waitress comes over to take our order, and Joey orders each of us another drink. I’m about to protest when he shoots me a warning glance.
Fuck it. I’m not driving. And this drink is damn good. It’s been forever since I let loose a little. A few drinks won’t kill me.
Joey makes small talk while we wait for our food, telling me about the new fence he put up at his house this afternoon.
“What was wrong with the old one?” I ask, thinking back to the wooden fence that surrounded his yard when we were there earlier this week.
“Wasn’t strong enough. The wood was old and worn, extremely brittle in some spots. Not a good fence for a dog. Once I finally get my hands on one, I don’t want to be chasing after him.”
“Oh!” I say brightly. “That reminds me. I talked to my friend, Amber. You know, the one with the Great Danes. Her girl just had her puppies.”
Joey’s eyes light up. “The bitch whelped, huh? That’s great news!”
I frown. “Amber is not a bitch. You don’t even know her,” I say in her defense.
Joey laughs. “A bitch is a female dog. And whelp means giving birth. Sheesh, Nic. I’m not that mean. Give me some credit,” he says with a wink.
In embarrassment, I lower my eyes to the table. Also, that wink made my chest flutter in ways I hadn’t thought it could anymore. Removing my gaze from his was the only way I could think to hide the fact that he was making me feel as giddy as a schoolgirl again.
Pull yourself together, Nichole.
Our meals arrive, and once again I marvel at how fast Mexican restaurants are able to get food out to their customers. I could learn a few lessons from these guys if I’m going to keep on
waitressing.
“You remember the time Alex brought his date for prom here? Alyson Shaw? She was so pissed off that she ditched him for Jason Scott for the rest of the night.”
I laugh at the memory. Alex was always a bit clueless when it came to girls back in high school. I wish he’d have run that idea past me before he carried it out. No girl wants to get dressed up in formalwear and go eat Mexican food, regardless of how good it is.
Joey and I spend the rest of the meal laughing about old times. He tells me that Alex hasn’t changed much since those days.
“He’s still an idiot when it comes to women. You should see him when we go out. If a girl even hints that she might be the slightest bit interested in him, he clams up like an idiot. He literally can’t get more than two words out before he goes running from the scene. I’d kind of feel bad for the poor guy if it wasn’t so damn funny. He’s just going to have to accept the fact that he’s doomed to a life of loneliness.”
I know there’s no way Alex won’t find someone eventually. He’s just too good of a guy. And the look in Joey’s eyes lets me know that he knows it, too. He just likes to bust Alex’s balls. And vice versa. The two of them are notorious for giving each other shit. It’s why they get along so great.
I laugh around a mouthful of food as Joey tells me about one such incident when a woman approached Alex, and he accidentally spilled his drink on her before finally running off with a shouted excuse about explosive diarrhea. I’m sure Joey is embellishing just a bit, but it makes me laugh nonetheless.
A small part of me wants to ask how he reacts to the women who approach him. But I know it isn’t my place. It’s none of my business to ask how Joey handles the ladies. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.
The waitress brings our check, and I’m surprised at how fast the meal went. Both of my drinks are gone, and though I’ve eaten quite a bit of my food, my head still feels slightly swimmy from the amount of alcohol I’ve ingested.
Joey insists on paying, and the two of us exit the restaurant. Once on the sidewalk, I realize how much I don’t want this to end. And, now that it has, it’s become slightly awkward.
Do I give him a hug? A slug on the arm with a, Thanks for dinner, pal?
While I’m distracted by my options of what I should do next, Joey straightens. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you something.”
He hustles over to his truck—a big black monstrosity that Cade fell in love with the moment he saw it parked in Joey’s driveway the other night—and opens the passenger door. He reaches up onto the seat, grabbing something before turning and running back to me.
In his hand, he clutches a bouquet of flowers. Not just any flowers, but flowers I now know are from his own garden.
“I figured your others would be dead by now, so I wanted you to have some fresh ones,” he says, extending the bouquet out to me.
My fingers wrap around the stems as shock, once again, fills me. I bring them to my face, and I close my eyes as I inhale deeply.
James would always bring me elaborate bouquets of flowers whenever he was feeling like the peaceful James after one of our fights. Dozens of roses, orchids, dahlias. The more exotic the flower, the more he liked it. And they were always enormous and over the top, as if the bigger the bouquet, the more forgiveness I would grant him. It was a farce, and I hated every single one of those flowers, resented them and what they represented.
But the simple bouquet that Joey and Cade gave me a few weeks ago took my breath away. They didn’t do it to say sorry. It wasn’t some overdone gesture in hopes of buying my forgiveness. They were simple garden flowers from a backyard. Picked by hand by two people who actually seemed to care about me. They’d taken the time to select the prettiest blooms. And that meant more to me than all the roses in England.
The fact that Joey is standing before me now, giving me ones that he picked on his own just for me and not for the benefit of my son, makes my heart soar. It is such a simple gesture, but for some reason, it means the world to me.
“Thank you, Joey. For dinner and for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
He grins back at me. “You’re welcome, Nic,” he says, the earnestness in his voice not lost on me.
I know he can tell how much this means to me. And, instead of laughing it off, saying they’re just silly little garden flowers, he responded with the same sincerity I feel.
Maybe Joey hasn’t changed as much as I thought.
He insists on walking me home, refusing to let me walk alone through these crowded streets when I’m so “obviously tipsy,” as he put it. And, instead of arguing again, I tell him where I’m staying. He doesn’t even bat an eye when he finds out that I’m living above Moretti’s.
The two of us walk in silence, taking in the people around us and the gorgeous night sky as we move.
When we reach Moretti’s, I turn to Joey to say good night. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for inviting me out.”
He nods slightly, but there’s a strange look in his eye. One I can’t say I’ve ever seen before.
“Well, good night,” I add awkwardly when he doesn’t say anything after several seconds.
I turn and place my hand on the doorknob. I barely twist it halfway before Joey gently grabs my arm and whirls me around. He looks in my eyes for a moment, his expression full of so many emotions that I’m not even sure where to start. My eyes scan his face, and his lips curl up slightly when I reach them.
He lowers his face to mine, pressing the softest kiss imaginable against my lips. “Good night, Nichole. I’ll see you again soon,” he says simply before turning and walking away.
I watch him for a few moments before the crowd swallows him. In a daze, I walk through the restaurant and into my apartment. Cade is asleep on the bed, and Mario is asleep in a kitchen chair. I softly close the door behind me, not wanting to wake either of them just yet. I need a moment to myself.
It might not have been the kiss I imagined earlier this evening, the one full of passion and raw hunger, but that didn’t dampen its effect on me.
I place the tips of my fingers against my lips as I lean back against the door.
Joey Roberts just kissed me.
Thirteen Years Ago
“Ladies and gents, your prom king is…”
I grab ahold of Joey’s hand, squeezing it tightly as Mr. Hill grins out at the student body, clearly enjoying keeping us all in anticipation. My fingers shake in Joey’s hand, my nerves finally catching up to me.
All night long, I said I didn’t care if we won prom queen and king. But, now that the moment is here, the last few weeks of campaigning have come crashing down, and I realize how much I want this. It’s silly and trivial, and it won’t mean a damn thing in two months after we walk across that stage to receive our diplomas. But I still can’t deny how much it would mean to me. To us.
I look up at Joey to see if he’s feeling half as edgy as I am. But, of course, he isn’t. He smiles at me as I meet his gaze, bringing my hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss against my knuckles.
He’s always so easygoing and carefree.
Graduation is looming over us, and while I’m excited at the thought of moving on and starting a new life, at the same time, it absolutely terrifies me. Joey and I have always talked about going to UC Denver together after graduation, but these last few months, he’s been toying with the idea of enlisting in the Army.
If Joey enlists, it will throw a wrench in the life we’ve been planning for the past two years. Everything we’ve mapped out will change. And, if I’m completely honest, the reason it scares me the most is the news. Every single time I turn on the TV, there’s another story about the war in Iraq and how more and more people are losing their lives at the hands of Al-Qaeda.
I don’t have what it takes to be a military wife. To constantly be worrying about whether or not my husband will be laying his head down on his pillow at night. Just the thought of going months upon months without seeing Joey sends me
reeling. I couldn’t handle it. And it might be selfish of me to say so, but I won’t do it.
That is why I need to show Joey how happy he is here with me. How perfect we are for each other. I can give him everything he wants here. He doesn’t need to go gallivanting halfway across the world with some weird need to prove himself.
The first night he told me his plans, I’d asked him if that’s what this was. If he felt some underlying need to prove his worth. He insisted it wasn’t. It was about serving his country. About making a difference in the world. But what about our world? Our future? Doesn’t that matter to him? Isn’t it enough for him?
I have to make it be enough. I need to prove to him that I can be enough. He can stay here and go to college with me, and then we’ll get married, have a couple of kids, and live happily ever after. It’s a life I’ve always dreamed of. And, now that it’s being threatened, I feel completely lost.
“Joey Roberts!” Mr. Hill’s loud voice booms through the auditorium, bringing my thoughts back to the present.
Joey smiles at me when he hears his name, and I throw my arms around his neck as I squeal. He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me clean off the floor and spinning me a few times, both of us laughing in our excitement. When he sets me back down, he presses a quick kiss to my lips before making his way to the stage where Mrs. Chase is waiting with his crown.
My heart so full that I feel like it might burst, I watch as our teacher places the cheap plastic on Joey’s head. Our peers cheer as he throws both fists up in the air, his grin so huge that it could probably be seen from space.
I never had any doubt that Joey would win tonight. With his charismatic personality and overall goodness, there isn’t a single person in this school who doesn’t love him. Add to that the fact that he led our football team to the state championship the last two years, and he’s practically a god among these walls.