by Leanne Davis
He shuddered at her words, and physically pushed her away from him. She bit her lip in frustration, annoyed by his pushing and pulling of her. But… his hands were still on her waist.
“The last thing I ever want is to be tied to anyone, ever. This pregnancy thing just reinforced what I don’t want. And that includes you.”
“No, I’m the exception to your defenses, to your loner tendency. You do want me, despite what you perceive as why you shouldn’t, or can’t.”
“I’m rejecting you now. Take the hint.”
She nodded her head and put her hands over his, which were wrapped around her waist. “Then take your hands off me. If you take your hands off me, I’m going to turn around and walk out of here, and out of your life for good. I mean it. You either commit to me or let me go. Your choice. The thing is: I don’t believe you. Not for one second. You can’t let me go; and you damn well know it. But if I’m so wrong about you, and about us, then prove it. Let me go.”
His fingers dug into her skin as he flexed his fingers in reaction to her words. His jaw worked furiously back and forth. He stared at her long and hard. Still… he didn’t remove his hands. He was contemplating it; the desire to run from her was very strong. She only hoped the desire to be with her was greater. His eyes were dark and solemn, nearly sparking with anger. Still, his hands didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to breathe.
Whatever he did next would constitute the end or the beginning of them. She felt his hands tightening around her, as he pulled her closer to him. It was exactly an inch. Spencer moved her an inch closer to him. She let out a deep sigh of relief. He gave her an inch! To anyone else, it would mean nothing; with Spencer it was a major milestone. Something she was pretty sure he hadn’t given anyone else, ever before. Her posture sagged against him and she closed the gap between them completely, as his arms tightened around her.
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Stand up to me. No one else can. Most people would have run away, cowering.”
She leaned back and brushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe you should be asking yourself why you want to make everyone run away, cowering from you. Besides, I’m not everyone.”
“I know. I know that.”
Erica eased back. “Then just accept it. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why? Why aren’t you going anywhere? Why would you want to put up with me? I’m just trying to save you the time and energy that would be wasted on me.”
“Let me decide what I waste it on. And you? You’re not a waste of time or energy in any way. You think that, not me.”
Spencer tried to turn away from her, and regain his equilibrium. Her heart squeezed as she looked at his shoulders, and the way his body twisted around. He nearly wanted to hide from her, he was so shaken by their exchange. Her heart lifted and swelled as she watched him. God, she was so in love with him. In a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling before. Really, after all these years, and more than decades of dating, she had finally fallen in love. She let a long breath out. She was scared, even terrified of the feeling, and mostly scared of the man whom she felt it for. Every logical reason why she and Spencer were a bad fit swam through her brain. Still, there it was; this undeniable feeling of deep, drowning love for this man before her.
“Spencer?”
“What?” he asked, his face still hidden from her.
“Why don’t we go to dinner tonight?”
He whipped his gaze to hers and his eyes widened. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, dinner. Like a date. You have been on a date before, haven’t you?”
His lips lifted up in one corner. “Of course, I’ve been on a date before. Most girls take at least that much work.”
“I wasn’t even that much work for you, was I?”
He straightened and walked over to flick his music off. “Yeah, right. That’s what I was thinking, how easy you are.”
“This thing with us is going to require some effort on your part. I’m only understanding to a point. There’s a learning curve I’ll give you for this; but don’t push it, or me much more.”
“Learning curve for what?”
“For this, our relationship. For letting someone within five feet of you, you know beyond sex, that is.”
“Relationship,” he said more to himself, than to her. She swallowed a smile. Who knew it was such a strange and foreign word?
“Well? Dinner?”
“Sure. Fine. You’re here, why not?”
“Is it any wonder I am? With such effusive charm like yours, how could a girl resist?”
His shoulders finally eased, and he laughed. “Yeah, but you can’t, can you?”
“Joke’s on you, because you can’t resist either.”
Chapter Nineteen
“So… do you have any brothers or sisters?”
They were seated at a little bistro, candlelight flickering between them, and the table set on a checkered, red-and-white tablecloth. It was so normal and date-like, Erica almost pinched herself to be sure it was real. It was actually happening. With Spencer.
“What?” he asked, his face buried in the menu.
“Siblings, do you have any?”
He waited and tapped his fingers before finally looking at her around his menu. His hair was combed nicely after he showered, shaved, and put on a pair of dark slacks and a white shirt. He looked great; but still, the strain was irrefutable between them.
After some time, he answered. “No. I don’t have any.”
She waited. Nothing more. He returned to the menu.
“Gee, Erica, do you have brothers? A sister, perhaps? Well, as a matter as a fact, since you asked, I do. One of each.”
Spencer set the menu down and she had his full attention now. “What was that?”
“That was me having a conversation with myself. That’s how it happens; I ask, you answer, and here’s the hard part, then it goes vice versa. You ask me and just pretend you actually want to get to know me.”
His mouth tightened as he sheepishly nodded. “All right. Sorry. So, you have one of each?”
“Yes. Twins. They’re almost a full ten years younger than me.”
He flinched. Why? Was it that painful to be with her? And talk to her? To get to know her? She sighed and snapped her menu shut. “Forget it. I can’t force you to want to be here. I can’t force you to want to be with me either. Or interest you in getting to know me. But neither can I pretend I don’t want to do just that. I require casual conversation from my partner. And you don’t. This obviously can’t work.”
She started to rise and was halfway up when he grabbed her hand.
“Stay. I do want to know you. I do want to be with you. I just haven’t done that before. And the casual ease with which you let people learn about you, is totally foreign to me. I don’t tell anyone, not even Rob, about any stuff. No matter how insignificant. So I don’t know how to do it yet, but I’m trying to learn. I will. Learning curve… remember?”
She hesitated and slowly lowered her butt back into the seat. She looked deeply into his eyes as she tapped her fingers on the table. “Okay. It’s a learning curve. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself then?”
He cleared his throat, visibly becoming anxious. “Like what?”
She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever! Your favorite color. What kind of pets you had as a kid. How about your middle name? Just pick whatever you want to talk about and tell me.”
“Red; never had a pet; Martin.”
She smiled and leaned against the back of her chair. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He sat back with a smile too. “No, it wasn’t as bad as I expected.”
The waiter came and they ordered. She listened to the soft plinks of the live piano player. She nodded at the piano player while asking Spencer, “Why don’t you get a job doing that, playing music at restaurants, or anywhere?”
He snorted. “Yeah, just what I
always dreamed of.”
She tilted her head at him. “What do you dream of then?”
“I don’t. I stopped dreaming. Now, I survive. I work. I pay bills.”
She pressed her lips together. He always insisted upon bringing up the darkness. “You should dream… about playing music. And about Zenith. And yourself. You know how to play music so effortlessly, so play it! Does it really matter if it’s for ten people, or ten thousand? You’re playing music and doing something you love. You’ve already stated more than once that you hate your job, so how could playing piano in a restaurant like this be any worse? At least, you like music.”
“Why don’t I? Because that would be admitting to the world that I’m terrible. If I don’t play, it’s my choice; but if I play at little dives, and other nothing places, then I’m nothing.”
“No! You’re not nothing! No matter what you choose to do and I must challenge your theory. I get that you wanted Zenith to be big and more than it was. But just because that didn’t happen doesn’t mean the music was bad or that you can’t play… Nor does it mean Zenith still can’t make it big. Few people have a crowd of spectators watching them do their jobs. Some people work for themselves, earning money, at the careers they love. You can also earn money doing something that you love, so do it, whether or not the critical acclaim you seek ever arrives.”
“Easy for you to say; you’re a damn doctor. How can this ever work? Are you going to introduce me to your friends and family as ‘your handyman,’ or better yet, ‘the piano player in nothing restaurants.’ I don’t see that happening.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, Roy had the same problem with me.”
“What problem?”
“I make more money than he does. I am also better at my job than he is. I always received more respect in our medical circles than he did. I am sure he hated me sometimes. He always called me a real ‘ball buster’.”
He eyed her and asked, “What kind of reputation do you have?”
She chewed her lip and paused before letting him have it. “Sterling. My reputation is sterling. I give lectures on women’s issues; and there’s a waiting list for my engagements. So I’m not only a doctor, Spencer, I am excellent in my field. I’m the one who gets called to do the most difficult, delicate, pre-natal surgeries. Why do you think I hardly have time to date? I can’t spare the time. I can’t dedicate enough time and energy that most men want in a girlfriend. So if you have any kind of personality complex about me, there isn’t anything I can say or do to ease it. I’m rich, as in heiress rich. My annual salary is no more than peanuts to me. I never even glance at it. I have financial planners, lawyers, and accountants who handle all of that. So there it is. I’m smart, successful, and a workaholic. My practice is me, and I am my practice. That won’t change no matter what happens in my personal life. It’s already ended more than one relationship I tried to have. The only man who never got intimidated or the slightest bit resentful of my money, my career, and the person I am in general, was Nick. That’s why I stayed with Nick for so long. He had family money like me, and is successful, as well as a workaholic in his own right. He didn’t want me in his life anymore than I wanted him in mine. We had a mutual respect of space going on with each other.”
Spencer didn’t speak for a moment. “Now I know why Roy hated Nick so much. What do you see in me then? I’m such a loser, and so lacking in any accomplishments that you think I won’t care?”
Their dinner was served. Erica waited for the steaming plate to be set down, and salt and peppered before she could gather her thoughts. What was her answer as to whether or not she had a future with Spencer?
“What do I see in you? I see a man who usually scares the living daylights out of me.”
“I scare you still?”
“Not like Spike scared me. More like, holy shit, I might not get over you. Ever. Look, the point of this conversation is learning about you, not me. I don’t think you really want to know how I feel about you. The issue isn’t about how I see you, or comparing our jobs. It’s what you think of yourself. Do me a favor and try to remember that: your job title is important to you, not me. However, if I had a problem with it, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m here.”
He leaned back in his chair, assessing her. “You’re here. But for how long?”
“Ask yourself that before you ask me. Don’t be such a hypocrite. You must know that I’m far more likely to stick with this relationship than you are. Answer me this: why don’t you play piano anymore?”
Spencer sighed, but she raised her eyebrows, warning him that he’d better answer her.
“Because it quit being fun.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. For a long time, it was my escape. It used to remind me that I was more than the nothing my life was. Then after Zenith went south, and everything along with it, it stopped being my escape, just an unwelcome reminder. And now that it’s all failed, it’s just crap.”
“You’re not a failure and your life isn’t crap,” she said quietly.
He glanced at her. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you were thinking.”
He shrugged. “That’s not too far from the truth. Not news to me.”
Using logic to argue was fruitless. It led nowhere with him. His low self-opinions were nearly etched in stone. Somehow, Erica would have to show him how to be different in order to crack through his unfounded self-doubt.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked quietly.
“Whatever,” he shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or another. But she saw the look in his eyes. He cared more than he even wanted to admit to himself. He dared not hope for simple joys like just being with her. Spencer’s life regularly taught him if he wanted something really bad, he couldn’t get it. And somehow, his longing for more than he had, eventually cursed whatever he desired.
****
Erica looked up to find Preacher Don Ortiss standing in her office. His expression was contrite, and he hung his head almost in deference to her. She stood up, still startled, behind her desk.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry. I slipped past your front desk. They refused all my calls the last few days.”
“For good reason, Mr. Ortiss.” Erica picked up her cell phone, texting Spencer instantly that Ortiss was in her office.
“I know. I do. I deserve your wrath and resentment. I was so wrong to do that pamphlet. I just thought it would help you see—”
“I don’t need another dissertation on your opinion of me, Mr. Ortiss. I’ve heard enough from you. No matter what your reasons,” Erica said, her voice sharply authoritative.
“I know. I’m sorry. Really, I am. Sorry that you got attacked. It makes me sick just to think about it. But I thought of something that I think you should know.”
“What could you possibly have to say to me?”
Before Don could answer, the door burst open and there stood Spencer. His expression was thunderous and dark as his eyes fell on the preacher. He was breathing hard, after running all the way to get to her office. He glanced at her briefly, obviously checking to make sure she was okay. Before Erica could speak, Spencer had crossed her office, and pushed Don Ortiss against her desk; thus bending him, face first into her stack of papers. Spencer held his arms roughly behind his back.
Erica gasped, at seeing how fast it happened, and how furious Spencer became.
“Spencer! What are you doing?”
Spencer twisted his wrist and the preacher whimpered. “What are you doing here? Why are you sneaking into her office?” he demanded.
“I’m trying to tell her something,” the frightened preacher said, his voice somewhat muffled from having his lips pressed against her desk.
“Spencer, let him go.”
Spencer raised his eyes to hers with a glare. “Didn’t he sneak in here?”
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing,” Spencer said
angrily before he let up. He pulled the preacher to standing, but kept his hands twisted behind his back. “Quit being so nice,” Spencer said to Erica as his eyes sparked with anger. “All it would have taken is for him to slip in here with a knife or gun. In less than two seconds, you could have been hurt or even killed.”
“I came to tell her who might be hurting her.”
Erica and Spencer stopped arguing, as they both stared at the preacher. “What?”
“I came here because I thought she should know something.”
“Know what?”
“Please have your henchman kindly release me. I prefer to finish my conversation with you under more civil conditions.”
Erica’s lips tipped up. “He’s not my henchman; he’s my boyfriend.”
Preacher’s eyes rounded in shock as he glanced up at Spencer, who was looking at Erica, with his eyebrows raised. He looked just as shocked about being called her boyfriend as the preacher appeared. Erica bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Spencer, please, let him go.”
Spencer obeyed her finally.
Preacher adjusted his suit jacket, and shook out his shoulders, with a piercing glare at Spencer. Spencer stood close with his arms crossed over his chest. He scowled down at the man who tried to sully Erica’s reputation.
“As I tried to tell you, I thought I should pass this item along to you, but your receptionist kept cutting me off when I said my name.”
Erica smiled. “You’re not particularly popular around here, Mr. Ortiss. You know, calling me a baby butcher didn’t exactly ingratiate you to us.”
Preacher blushed. “I’m sorry for that. Still, I felt you should know this.”
Erica nodded, and indicated for him to take a seat. “Fine. Sit down and tell me.”
“Can he leave?” Preacher Don waved toward the menacing, hulking Spencer. It thrilled Erica to see him as her henchman, and all because of his feelings about her.
“No. But he can sit too,” Erica said, with a significant look at Spencer. Finally, Spencer dropped his hands and sat down.