Long_Distance Coffee

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  She was very happy that her brain focused on two quite innocent features, the mass of shiny black hair pooling around Isabella’s head on the floor and her bare feet, tucked under her rear with only the toes sticking out.

  Still, the luscious mass of hair made Erin feel like she was observing a goddess or something, while the cute little toes reminded her that it was a woman of flesh and blood she was staring at. She was smiling like an idiot and was damn grateful that Isabella couldn’t see it.

  “Good. Now take deep breaths from your belly and try to feel your lower back expanding,” Erin said.

  She could see Isabella was doing as she was asked. The slightly arched back lifted a little with every deep breath and then sank onto her thighs as she exhaled.

  Erin’s hands tingled with the desire to put her hands on Isabella’s back and softly caress her form. Strangely, she felt so full of emotion, so filled to the brim with tenderness and excitement when she looked at Isabella, that there could be no doubt as to what she was feeling.

  Her smile turned melancholy. Unrequited crushes were always devastating; she’d been there plenty of times before.

  Now wasn’t the time. She needed to focus on the stretches, on Isabella. She pulled on her professionalism and showed Isabella each move she’d suggested. She had her do each one for ten slow breaths, then start over from the top.

  Although she made grouchy comments throughout, Isabella was quick to learn and seemed dedicated to performing the stretches correctly. Erin was impressed.

  When they’d finished, Erin stood up and glanced at her wrist, only to swear quietly to herself.

  “What’s the cursing about?” Isabella asked, as she stood up and smoothed her hair.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I just keep looking at my wrist for the time, but I broke my watch a few days ago.”

  Looking back at the screen, she noticed Isabella staring at her naked arm. Her goose bumps returned.

  “Well, that’s a nuisance. I’d be really annoyed if I didn’t have my watch.” Isabella pointedly looked away from Erin’s arm.

  “Um, yeah. It’s annoying. I’ll probably buy a new one with my next paycheck.”

  Erin slowly adjusted her ponytail. She didn’t want the call to end, but she wasn’t sure she should continue it either. She decided to leave it up to Isabella, hoping she would know what was best for them both.

  Chapter 14

  Isabella Takes a Deep Breath (Or Is It Ten?)

  Isabella was annoyed. Her breathing was rapid, and she struggled to pull her gaze away from her PC.

  On the screen she usually used only for her writing, was a blonde, athletic woman in jeggings and a flannel shirt. Erin looked relaxed, casual—a fit woman doing stretches as easy for her as walking to the car.

  Unlike her, in exercise gear, whose unused muscles thrummed after the stretches. She’d probably overdone it, simply because she wanted to seem in shape in front of Erin. Why hadn’t she asked Erin what she should wear? She was angry, because she felt foolish, but that wasn’t the only reason she was annoyed.

  No. She was annoyed, because she couldn’t stop staring at the extraordinarily beautiful blonde on the screen. Erin had high cheekbones, a little dimple in her chin, and the most infectious smile Isabella had ever seen. To make it worse, she also had amazing eyes that flashed more green than blue in the pale New York sunlight. Erin Black was effortlessly stunning, and Isabella found it hard to look away.

  Isabella found her clean, fresh beauty a little intimidating. She tried so hard with makeup and expensive clothes to feel her best—to look her best. Still, she doubted she could ever be truly intimidated by Erin. Her personality made it impossible. She was too lovable, too down to earth.

  It was annoying. Erin’s beauty was annoying. Her awkwardness and those confusingly evocative glances were annoying. But most annoying of all was her own absolute attraction to Erin. She shouldn’t feel this. And she hated how out of control she felt.

  Erin was standing up, her hands wedged into the tight pockets at her hips. “So, um, do you want to try anything else or…?”

  Isabella knew she should end the call. Just end it, get changed out of her ridiculous clothes, and go check on Alberto and Richard. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to keep looking at Erin. She wanted to ask Erin to smile for her again. Despicable! You’re in a relationship. She shouldn’t be mooning over another woman. How had she become so…pathetic…so fast?

  She took a deep breath. It didn’t help.

  “No, I should probably go. Richard can’t be left alone with Alberto. The clumsy idiot would probably drop him.” It had been meant as a joke, but due to her annoyance with herself, it came out as an insult.

  The woman on the screen took a step back and frowned.

  “Geez, Isabella. That’s kinda unfair, isn’t it? I thought you said Richard was a good dad?”

  Isabella felt her skin grow hot. She was overloaded with emotion. Embarrassed, angry, and painfully confused by what she was feeling.

  “How would you know? You know nothing about him or me, Erin. Don’t you dare judge me for what I say about the man I live with.”

  “Hey, relax. I was just pointing out that you were being a bit harsh. I don’t know the guy at all, but you’ve told me he’s great with both his kids, so I kinda have to go on that.” Erin looked like she was about to stop but then carried on talking. “Oh, and I do know quite a bit about you, actually. I may not be your bff or anything, but don’t pretend I’m not getting to know you pretty well here.”

  Isabella was about to give a biting reply. She could shut this little discussion down with speed and merciless efficiency, no matter how upset she was. She could win this.

  But she looked into those beautiful, blue-green eyes and that firm, stubborn gaze and she didn’t want to. Erin stood so tall and proud, her beautiful features locked in a frown. Her eyes were a similar color to her beloved Alberto’s. This was clearly one of those times when Erin stood up for what was right, like she’d mentioned when they first met, the savior of all who needed someone to stand up for them.

  Isabella shouldn’t fight that. She wouldn’t. Especially not when she knew that her horrible temper was to blame here. She was to blame here. Her anger dissolved, like ice on a hot plate.

  “You’re right. That sounded harsher than I meant. I’m not in the best of moods today. I apologize for being so brusque. I’ll make it up to Richard with his favorite lunch later. And you’re right, you are getting to know me. Very well, actually. Anyway, I,” she paused, “should still go check on Alberto and Richard.”

  “That’s all right. We all have our off days.” Erin’s voice immediately lost its edge. She squinted and added, “Hang on, I just need to pull this blind. The sun’s in my eyes.”

  While Erin adjusted her blind to shut out the winter sun, Isabella took a breath. She’d found another big difference between Richard and Erin: Richard always pulled back when her temper flared and she’d been unfair. Afterward, he would avoid her for days, sulking without letting her explain or apologize.

  Erin, on the other hand, said her piece. And when the issue was resolved, she apparently let it go and carried on as normal. Was she always like that, or just in this situation?

  Isabella shook her head and berated herself for comparing her new friend to her boyfriend. It wasn’t fair. Her stomach ached with a knot of self-loathing. She sat up, trying to make the feeling go away. She just wasn’t thinking straight today. She was too preoccupied with a messy ponytail of gleaming blonde hair and a smile that hit her like a rush of hot air on a freezing day. Why did Erin have to be so attractive on top of being so charming and interesting? It really wasn’t fair.

  Erin scratched the back of her neck. “So I guess we should hang up so you can go check on your boys and make lunch?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. What are you going to do?”

  “Actually, lunch sounds like a good idea. After that, who knows?”

>   “Meet up for midnight coffee again?” Isabella asked with a smile she hoped was charming.

  “Sure! Well, it’s usually a bit before midnight, isn’t it? I’ve got no big plans, other than seeing you that is.”

  “Me neither. So me and a sleeping Alberto will chat with you tonight?”

  Erin nodded, smilingly. “It’s a date. Well, I mean, it’s not a date date. It’s just, you know, a saying.”

  Isabella laughed and held up a hand to stop her. “I get it, Miss Black. I look forward to talking to you tonight. Bye for now.”

  Erin waved goodbye and then bent over to the laptop, presumably to end the call.

  Isabella growled angrily at the universe, as Erin’s shirt fell open and revealed a smooth expanse of skin building to two mounds.

  Isabella didn’t have time to see much, but she looked close enough to know there was no bra under that shirt. It was just as intriguing as Erin’s shirt riding up her back when she had demonstrated child’s pose, exposing her slim waist and exquisitely sculpted back muscles. Does she have abs that sculpted too? Isabella shivered at the prospect.

  She shouldn’t be thinking like this. She clenched her fists by her sides and took slow, calming steps toward the bedroom where Richard was playing with Alberto.

  She gently opened the door and saw Richard bent over their child, blowing a raspberry on his naked belly.

  “Oh hey, Isabella. Junior here is in his birthday suit because he decided to throw up all over his outfit. Where are his clean clothes?”

  Isabella went to Alberto and looked at him with concern. He seemed all right, happy and playful and instantly babbling when he saw his mother.

  “He vomited? Without having eaten?”

  Richard shrugged. “Yeah, I think I might have tossed him around a little too much. I don’t know. He looks okay again now.”

  Isabella took a breath to calm herself. It seemed to be all she was doing today. “Yes, probably just his stomach playing up in combination with the effects of the roughhousing. He seems fine now,” she agreed.

  “He’s all right, Isabella. Babies throw up sometimes. He’s not made of glass. I don’t get why you worry so much.”

  She gave a weak smile at his words and held her tongue. How could she not worry? Alberto was her everything. And right now, he was the only thing keeping her from being torn apart by doubts about her relationship and strange feelings for a certain personal trainer.

  An hour later, her father called to ask how she and Alberto were doing. Isabella gave a brief rundown—all safe, uncontroversial small talk. When she mentioned how much hair Alberto had now, her father immediately asked for a Skype call so he could see for himself.

  And here she was, holding up her baby in front of the computer’s camera.

  Alberto Sr. cooed at his little namesake, but Isabella couldn’t see his expression. He claimed his computer’s camera was broken, but Isabella suspected he just hadn’t set it up correctly. If she was bad with technology, her father was just plain awful with it.

  Her father, still speaking in Spanish, as they had since the conversation started, admired the tufts of black hair and pointed out how big Alberto had become. Isabella was just about to reply, when she heard her mother’s voice somewhere in the background.

  “Switch to English, Alberto. I might want to be part of this conversation when I have gotten rid of this overpaid imbecile. If that ever happens. I’m starting to despair.”

  Alberto dutifully switched to English.

  “I don’t know if you heard that. It was your mother.”

  Isabella placed her son in her lap and fussed with him, looking away from the camera to hide her frustration. “Yes, I heard the royal decree. English it is. Sounds like she’s more annoyed than usual.”

  He sighed. “Yes. My poor, overworked heroine. She’s pacing the house, on hold with her new assistant back in the office. There is some sort of emergency regarding a new client. If she grips that phone any harder, I think it might crack.”

  He whispered those last words, as always, scared to cause offense to his beloved, yet feared, wife. Isabella changed the topic while she still could. No doubt her mother would bring the limelight back to herself any moment.

  “How are you, Daddy?”

  “I’m very well, thank you. Missing my children, of course. Marie hasn’t been to visit for a while. She seems very busy with work.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she is,” Isabella muttered.

  If her father had picked up on the tone, he was ignoring it. As always.

  “Still, at least she doesn’t work as hard as you did. You practically lived in your office.”

  Isabella grabbed on to Alberto’s little hand, which was reaching for the computer mouse. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

  “Quite the difference to how you’re living now, mija. Do you miss it?”

  “Sometimes. I miss the social interaction. And I miss the fast pace. I have far too much time to think about things now.”

  She regretted the admission the second the words left her mouth. What was wrong with her lately? She was opening up at the strangest times. She loved her father and missed him, but she was well aware that every word and look on her face would be reported back to her mother. And Judith Martinez would use every scrap of information to meddle in her life. Again. Before her father could ask something about the “too much time to think” comment, Isabella latched on to something her father had mentioned at the start of the call.

  “You mentioned a present?”

  She heard her father clapping his hands together and wished she could see him. She knew he only did that when he was very excited about something. Isabella could imagine his beaming smile and the twinkle in his big brown eyes. She ached with how much she missed him. She would have done anything to hug him right now.

  “Ah, yes,” he exclaimed. “I’ve found an early edition of Peter Pan for little Beto. Almost mint condition and beautiful binding.”

  Isabella’s heart warmed, and she tried not to sound patronizing.

  “Daddy, it’s a little early for that. You might want to start with a picture book. We’ll save J.M. Barrie for another five or ten years.”

  He laughed. “Well, it will probably be five or ten years until we next see you.”

  Isabella struggled to keep her facial expression neutral. She knew that her mother wanted her to simply bundle up the baby, drop everything, and travel to Philadelphia on a weekly basis. In fact, now that she thought about it, Isabella wasn’t sure if her mother wouldn’t prefer if she left Alberto with a nanny and visited by herself. She could explain how that wasn’t going to work until she was blue in the face. Her mother wouldn’t listen, while her father would just look miserable, because he understood but still missed her and his grandson.

  The few times she had convinced her parents to travel to Florida had been filled with complaints and snide remarks from her mother and those endless pained smiles and uncomfortable silences from her father. He seemed to almost blend into the wallpaper when his wife and daughter would fight over whatever remark Judith had just made.

  “Hopefully, it won’t be that long.” It was all that Isabella could think to say. She could hear her mother talking on the phone in the background and had no doubt that Judith was keeping one ear on their conversation.

  “No. Hopefully not.” Her father’s voice sounded quiet. Hurt. “Still, at least we do see you now. I know I talk about this a lot, but it was horrible during the period where we had no contact.”

  She had to agree. Those first few months in Florida, when she had cut ties with her mother, had been hard. Not being able to speak to her father had been frustrating and heartbreaking and the ultimate reason for her reinstating contact again. She knew, now, that taking a stand against her mother and cutting her out of her life would mean the loss of contact with her father, her childhood hero and greatest comfort. It was a thought Isabella didn’t want to contemplate and wouldn’t be something she’d easily do again.
Though she was realistic enough to admit that the need to be free of Judith and her meddling might make it increasingly tempting, wrenching Daddy out of Isabella’s life was her mother’s greatest trump card.

  For the millionth time, Isabella wished that her father was stronger—not so dependent on her mother, not so awed and cowed by his wife. She would never know what he saw in her. Was there something in him that needed her dominance? Her strict rules?

  She smiled at the camera. “I know what you mean. I missed you terribly. I missed our phone calls and our letters.”

  “What you missed were my book recommendations. Admit it, mi vida,” he said playfully.

  She laughed. “Well, yes, that is something I did miss. I read a lot of trash because I didn’t have your quality control on tap. And I missed your cooking too. In fact, I still do. When was the last time you made me asopao?”

  “Far too long. I haven’t made it since you left. There is only me who eats it, so I don’t see much point. In fact, I don’t cook much anymore. Only breakfast, because it is my favorite. Judith often eats at the club for lunch and dinner, unless she skips eating all together or has to attend work functions. You know how it is, schmoozing the clients over dinner. So, I just fix myself up something quick or eat at Santiago’s. He has hired a great cook, whom I like to exchange recipes with.”

  Isabella tried not to frown. Cooking was one of her father’s passions. It saddened her that something so important had been taken from him. That he would allow it to be taken from him. She wished he could understand that he deserved better.

  She paused at that thought. It was so easy to make those judgments from the outside looking in. It wasn’t so easy when you were at the center of those decisions, was it? Daring to think that you deserved better? Daring to ask for what you want. Or, worse still, recognizing the things you need for something as frivolous as personal happiness.

  Isabella listened to her father talk about Santiago’s chef and the recipes he had introduced him to. But her mind was consumed with thoughts of allowing oneself to be happy. Was it truly so selfish to think you deserved to be happy?