DirtyInterludes

by Jodie Becker

  Six Months Later

  Bridget sat in the dressing room, nerves biting at her composure. She wiped her hands against her lavender dress, commanding her heart to slow down. Tonight was the culmination of six months of hard work and she hoped it was the performance she dreamed it would be. A knock on the door brought her head up.

  “We’re on,” Gillian said with a smile.

  Bridget nodded and followed after the other cellists. Hovering by the curtains, she looked out at the crowd and a frisson of panic arced through her. “I can’t do this.”

  Gillian rubbed her arm. “You can. You faced much worse things than a crowd of people.”

  Bridget’s smile felt wobbly. She knew that. She’d faced STDs and avoided that bullet. Had stared down a stalker and the man who’d loved her in ways she couldn’t imagine and hurt her just as deeply. In the last six months, her friendship with Gillian grew and they put aside their petty differences. Gillian had supported her when Bridget had to give her testimony in court proceedings that saw Katrina-Cathy sentenced. Max had been present for some of it and every time she saw him it was like feeling the despair of loving him all over again. He’d looked at her as if she were the heavens to a sinner and it made the ache in her heart almost impossible to bear.

  She poured everything she had into her music and tried to exorcise him from her soul, but she feared it was all too late.

  The conductor tapped the podium and Bridget held her head up high, this was her moment. She walked ahead of the two other cellists and found her place at the front of a pointed seating arrangement. The crowd clapped as they set up and she glanced over at the conductor. His nod was short and stiff.

  She settled the bow over the strings and called forth notes of the discovery of passion. Of love.

  Max sat in the crowd, watching Bridget play her cello with a look of painful ecstasy. His chest expanded with pride and the beautiful music she made. Behind her, two cellists flanked her like servants to a musical siren. This was Bridget’s first show of many. Her opus to passion. She carried the notes with a gentle sway. The music sang its own tale, the two cellos deepening as Bridget went high. The hands of a lover over a woman’s body. The urgent beat of their hearts as passion overtook them. Goose bumps rose on his skin as she played the intimate journey of their relationship for all to hear. In the music he heard her love for him and he swallowed back the subtle rise of desolation. Almost seven months and he still missed her. Still yearned for her.

  She took the entire crowd with her, through the heat of passion, to the bloom of love and finally the devastation of losing it. The notes were slower, deeper. The cellos behind moved in tandem, cuts across the strings like the shattering of someone’s heart. He felt her pain clearly as if he lived it. Both misery and joy pulled at him. Sadness for the loss of her was eclipsed by the joy of seeing the culmination of what she wanted as a musician. It was all about her now, and he loved her all the more for her drive.

  Finally the mood changed and Max held his breath. Would he know how she felt? Her notes were soft in remembrance. A memory recalled and thought of fondly with occasional dashes of sadness. Max dropped his head. She had moved on and he knew it, but the last shriveled piece of hope fell away and he felt no more.

  The crowd cheered “bravo” as the last cellist stood and took his bow. Max drank up the vision of her happiness, her eyes glimmering with tears of joy. He silently wished her the best, then made his way out of the stadium, leaving behind his broken heart.

  * * * * *

  Bridget didn’t know why she was here. Twilight cast long shadows along the yard scattered with gnomes. In her hands lay a new gnome. He was waiting for her after her performance with a rose in his hand and a dragon tattoo on his chest. Max had sent her a gnome and a card wishing her well. It didn’t tell her anything about what he was feeling, but focused all on her and how deserving she was of her solo. It reminded her quite simply of the little things she loved about Max. How he made time to learn about her. How important he found little gestures. His quirky sense of humor.

  Nibbling her lower lip, she got out of her car and walked up the narrow path. She knocked on the door and waited. After a while the door opened and the air stalled in her chest. He stood in a business shirt, his hair slicked back, looking as if he belonged in a glossy photo shoot rather than standing at the threshold to his house.

  “Bridget?” he rasped, as if he wasn’t sure she really stood there.

  Bridget shook her head and cleared her throat. “Max.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and glanced back into the house before focusing on her. “What are you doing here?”

  Her hands tightened over the gnome. “You were there last night.”

  His features turned wary. “Yeah.”

  An awkward silence stretched between them.

  “Thank you for the gnome. It looks like you.”

  Max’s eyelids fanned downward. “I thought you might appreciate it.”

  She hugged the gnome closer. “I do. It’s a thoughtful gift.”

  Max looked at her then, his gaze glimmering with repressed love, and it touched the wall she’d erected around her heart. She shuddered, remembering that very look as he uttered words of love. “You were amazing. Just took my breath away.”

  “Thank you.”

  He seemed to struggle with something, his body tense.

  She stared into his green eyes, memorizing the line of his features, and smiled somewhat wobbly. “Well, I just wanted to say thank you.”

  She turned around to leave and made it several steps down before his voice stalled her. “Wait. Can you give me another chance?”

  She paused, not daring to look at him. “I can’t be with you, Max. You betrayed my trust deeply and hid what you did so well.”

  “It was wrong of me. I regret every day what I put you through. What you made me feel… I wanted to hold on to that piece of light even just for a while. It was selfish of me to try and hold onto you and keep that part of myself a secret.”

  She turned then to find him just behind her. “And was it worth it? The deceit, your job?”

  His expression turned rueful. “No. Being with you made me want to be the man you’d be proud of. The man you could rely on and know he’d give you and only you everything of himself.”

  “How could you ever be that man, Max? I can’t simply let go of what happened.”

  Max nodded solemnly. “I understand. All I can do is work toward that hope.”

  She scanned his features, noting the lines of misery by his lips and the dark circles under his eyes. The months apart weren’t kind to him, it seemed. “Why did you send that letter?”

  Max spread his arms. “I wanted to fight for you, to fight for what remained in your heart for me. But you left before I could make amends. I wanted you to know that being with you I rediscovered a part of myself that I’d lost. I wanted to be that person I saw in your eyes. I wanted to keep you with me and by lying I lost you. I don’t expect you to forgive me easily. Hell, I don’t expect you to forgive me at all. But all I’m asking for is a chance.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you still doing porn?”

  “No,” he said adamantly. “No. I gave that up a long time ago. Bridget, all I’m asking for now is your friendship. If that’s all you can offer, then I’ll be happy just for that.”

  Bridget inhaled, her lungs expanding until they could take no more. Was she willing to risk it? “Just friends?”

  Disappointment flashed in his eyes before he covered it with an accepting smile. “Just friends.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Three months later

  Bridget giggled at the text she received. Gillian leaned over. “What’s so funny?”

  Stuffing her phone back in her bag, Bridget focused on the lingerie they were looking at. “Nothing.”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “You have that dreamy look on your face. It was from Max, wasn’t it?”

  Bridget shrugged offh
andedly. “He just sent me a picture of his gnome held up to the sun, making it look like he was holding up the sun.”

  A brow tipped up. “His gnome?”

  Bridget smiled. “Diddy Gnomes. I think I created a monster.”

  “Is he the reason we’re looking at lingerie?”

  “No.”

  Gillian leaned against one of the shelves. “Really? You guys have been in each other’s sleeves for the last month. You can’t tell me it’s not getting serious again.”

  Bridget shook her head. “It’s not.”

  Gillian’s brow rose dubiously.

  “It’s not.” Even though she said it, Bridget’s heart raced at the idea. Something changed over the last three months. She thought she could’ve kept their friendship platonic… “Do you think I should’ve accepted his offer of friendship?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “I dunno. I just want an opinion.”

  Gillian’s face fell into sympathetic lines. “Having second thoughts?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know what I feel. I went into this knowing he’d done all these things, but… Am I an idiot?”

  Gillian’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “And what have you found out about him since?”

  Bridget blew out a frustrated breath. “That he’s everything he was before. I thought, maybe being friends and knowing what he did it’d be different. But it’s not. He’s kind, quirky and fun. He still loves his practical jokes, but now they are more mutually funny.”

  “So what’s the issue?”

  “I can’t ever trust him.”

  “So you’re having those thoughts.”

  Bridget blinked. “What thoughts?”

  Gillian picked up a hot-pink bra and held it up for inspection. “Thoughts that involve sexy, lacy things.”

  Bridget snatched the bra from her friend. “No. I mean, yes. Maybe?”

  Gillian shrugged. “It’s either yes or no.”

  Nibbling on her lower lip, Bridget pondered it then finally admitted, “Yes.”

  “Well, have you ever asked him?”

  “Asked him what?”

  “About what changed him? He doesn’t work in porn anymore. Must’ve taken a big leap for him. Heard those people can earn a fair bit.”

  Bridget grimaced. “Yeah. He sent me a letter when I left.”

  A letter that was now worn from being handled too much. A letter she knew by heart.

  “What’d it say?”

  She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “That he wanted to be the man I needed in life.”

  Gillian sighed. “That’s romantic.”

  Bridget slid the bra back onto the rack, contemplating the past. Max was being everything he promised he would be. He worked hard and treated her with care and consideration, even when he knew they’d be nothing more than friends. Still, it didn’t stop her heart from racing when she’d see that look in his eyes. That look of yearning and desire that made her insides melt.

  Gillian tapped a rack full of raunchy underwear. “You’re seeing him tonight, aren’t you?”

  “We’re having dinner, yes. But it’s nothing fancy like a date, if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re just having it at a bistro.”

  “Is this the need to ‘wander’ into a lingerie store?”

  “Lingerie browsing happens to be a happy circumstance. I’m not planning anything.”

  “If you’re not planning, then why are we having this conversation at all?”

  Exasperation fired in her chest and she waved a hand around them. “I don’t know. I thought I could just be friends. He looked so sad when he asked me. I’m not some unfeeling monster and I couldn’t have said no. It just felt… But things feel different now. It’s like I’m slipping back into those feelings I have for him. The more I try to keep it platonic the more I think about him. I just can’t help thinking what life would’ve been like if Max wasn’t a porn actor. Where we would’ve been right now and what we’d be doing.”

  “Well, as far as I know, he isn’t a porn actor. Don’t beat yourself over the what-ifs. That stuff would just drive you crazy. Keep the past where it’s supposed to be. In the past. The simple question is, do you want to be with him?”

  Bridget smiled, the answer fluttering to her mind without the weight of guilt.

  * * * * *

  Max sat in the bistro waiting for Bridget to arrive. By his knee a gift waited, which he hoped she’d love. Even though he was aware this wasn’t a date, every time he saw her it was like the first time he realized he loved her and was equally as painful as the realization of losing her. The last three months had been like agony and pleasure combined. He learned more about her and every day fell more deeply in love. But he knew that was a line he was never meant to cross.

  He’d taken his issues to Bryce, but his friend had his own to deal with. Namely a new rehab nurse who put Bryce in a sour mood. But Max took it as a good thing. Bryce’s show of defiance whenever she showed up assured Max that Bryce was almost completely whole.

  The door to the small restaurant opened and Max felt a solid thump in his chest as Bridget wandered in. She scanned the tables and settled on him, her gaze making the hair on his arms stand on end. He stood as she approached and held out a chair. As she settled into it, she cast him a thankful glance. Unable to resist, he brushed his hand along her shoulder in greeting before sitting.

  Clearing her throat, she settled her elbows on the table. “How was work?”

  Max smiled. For the last few months, he’d been moved from assisting teams and CAD work to design. “Good. We just won a contract with On-track.”

  Bridget beamed. “That’s great news.”

  “Yeah, the boss wants me to be a team leader on one of the sectors.”

  “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”

  Max lifted a hand to signal the nearest waiter. “I took the liberty of ordering some wine ahead of time. This place has the best Cabernet Sauvignon. You’ll like it.”

  Bridget tilted her head. “I’m sure I will.”

  Max chuckled. He hoped one day to take her on a tour through the wine valley. When the waiter arrived, they waited as he poured a glass for each of them.

  Bridget swirled the glass, then took a small sip. Her eyes widened. “My, this is good.”

  “It’s from Australia in the Yarra Valley.”

  “Goodness.”

  The waiter waited beside them. “Ready to order?”

  After a quick perusal of the menu, they ordered and settled onto neutral subjects about work and life. The meal soon arrived and they ate in a companionable silence.

  “I also have something for you,” he said after their plates were taken away.

  Bridget smiled sweetly. “For me? I thought we were here to celebrate your promotion.”

  “Think of this as a double celebration.”

  He placed the package on the table and Bridget pulled it toward her. Excitement widened her lips and she turned the box over. “What is it?”

  Max laughed. “You’ll have to open it to find out.”

  She tore off the plain black wrapping and flipped open the lid of the cardboard box. Her features softened as she took out the gnome he had custom made especially for her. The gnome had long honey-brown hair tied in a plait that went over one shoulder. In her hand she held a cello and had a smile of pure happiness on her cherub face.

  Bridget’s eyes widened. “Is this me?”

  Everything lit up inside at the sight of her happiness. “I thought you’d like it. Being the queen of the gnomes.”

  She hugged the gnome to her. “I love it. Thank you.”

  He lifted the glass to his lips. “You’re welcome.”

  She looked down at the gnome then at him, her eyes soft with something that made his heart stutter. “It’s very sweet. What else are we celebrating?”

  “Tomorrow, at around 2:30 a.m. to be precise, will be a year since you threw a gnome into my window.”

  Her mouth d
ropped open and she giggled. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

  “I wouldn’t forget the moment the best thing ever walked into my life.”

  Her lashes dropped and Max instantly wanted to call the words back. It was that damn line again. “Forget I said that.”

  Bridget looked at him, her gaze difficult to decipher. “Do you regret it?”

  Max stiffened but forced his shoulders to relax. “Regret what?”

  “Leaving what you did behind.”

  “Not for a second. My life was at a standstill when I was there. Here I’m doing what I’d originally wanted to do and I can’t regret it.”

  She looked down at the gnome again and the air around them became stiff with tension. It was time for him to pull the plug and retreat and reestablish the line that was constantly blurring on him.

  “Well, I have work tomorrow. I’m going to have to take off.”

  Bridget’s confusion made him grimace. “Oh all right.”

  He stood and dropped money onto the table. “Did you want me to walk you to the car?”

  Bridget accepted his offered hand and they walked in silence toward her car. The brisk wind slapped him in the face, reminding him of the bitter taste of rejection. Was he torturing himself with a friendship when deep down hope still existed? He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. He had to accept that Bridget was forever lost to him, that the most he could ever expect was simply her regard. They drew to a stop near her car. She opened the door and put her gnome in the passenger seat.

  “Well, have a good night,” he said.

  “Max, wait.”

  Max paused, his heart racing even as he tried to keep an air of nonchalance. “Yes?”

  “Do you…miss us?”

  “Every day,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

  She stepped closer, her hand pressed over his racing heart. Tipping her chin up, she peered at him with softly poignant eyes. Max groaned and dropped his head, capturing her mouth in a kiss filled with love and need. His heart thundered in his ears and passion made his skin tingle. She tasted of the purest wine, beautiful and full. She opened beneath him and he swept inside to dance in the wet heat beyond. Bridget trembled as her arms wrapped around his neck. He shuddered with passion only reserved for her. It blasted along his skin and settled in his chest in a ball of pure light.