Love Again, Love for Them: A Novel

by R. A. Lee

  Love blinded him, she always thought. Average was a more apt description. It had nothing to do with any one feature, it just all added up to average.

  Jake wasn’t super hot himself, but he had a subtle sexy manner that drew Brooke to him physically. Matthew was not sexy. He was just the most perfect man Brooke had ever known.

  Brooke knew there had to be more to her attraction to Jake. After a while, his distant moodiness would overcome any physical attraction that drew her to him.

  Taking one last look at sexy Brooke, she headed to the lounge and waited for Jake on a sofa by the fireplace. Knots painfully formed in her stomach and Brooke tried not to grimace. It wasn’t sexy.

  Sitting straight when Jake walked into the room and surveyed the atmosphere, Brooke squeezed her hands together until they were white. Rising, she waited for Jake to notice. Jake looked the same as he did when she met him at the office, but he had looked very sexy and it translated well into the evening.

  Slowly turning his head, Jake met her gaze and Brooke clenched her fists. Looking her up and down again, Jake winked and Brooke smiled.

  Sauntering over to her, Jake introduced himself.

  “I was looking for my wife, but I thought I’d come say ‘hi’ to you instead,” he said in a very deep, sexy voice. Brooke took his hand and contained herself. She was so nervous and she had already been intimate with him. It was as if they were meeting for the first time.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, but choked and had to repeat herself.

  Jake pulled her close. In his familiar embrace, the masculine scent of his cologne filling her senses and reminding her they were already old friends, Brooke sighed and melted to the warm touch of his hands on her neck and back.

  Parting, Brooke was no longer nervous.

  “I made reservations,” he said and led her through the lounge to a black car waiting in the valet turnout.

  Riding quietly, Brooke smiled as they arrived at a fancy French restaurant she had always wanted to dine in, but never had the opportunity.

  Helping her out of the car, Jake led her to the door and inside the candle-lit lushly decorated romantic restaurant. The host nodded and led them to a cozy booth. Other diners were too busy in intimate conversations to notice anything else around them.

  Brooke stared at the candle on the table soothed by its gentle flicker and warm light. The host waited for their drink order and Jake responded in French.

  Brooke was not surprised. Jake worked for an international office and probably knew a few languages. Nothing was said as the sommelier arrived and poured wine. Brooke held onto the stem of her glass and just enjoyed the moment.

  She watched as Jake went through the whole letting the wine breathe ritual and admired his respect for the art. Alcohol was just something Brooke enjoyed on occasion, but didn’t have a true appreciation like Jake apparently had.

  Noticing she hadn’t tried the wine, Jake nodded to urge her to try it.

  Brooke took a sip and smiled. The sommelier must have noticed displeasure on their part and arrived to ask Jake something in French.

  When Brooke replied in French, both just stared at her for a moment. The sommelier nodded, bowed and departed.

  Meeting Jake’s admiring eyes, Brooke realized how little the man she married knew about her.

  “Where did you learn?” he asked.

  “I spent a semester abroad,” she replied. “I visited every major art museum when I backpacked through France.”

  “Where did you learn?” she joked to lighten the mood now that they had a starting point for learning more about each other.

  “In school,” he said. “My father used to come back from business trips in Europe and was frustrated because the language barrier held him back from achieving even greater success.”

  “Is that what you wanted for yourself?” she asked, wondering if he may have had other dreams.

  “It’s what I knew,” he shrugged. “What about you? Was working at an art gallery and teaching to kids what you wanted?”

  There was no arrogant or sarcastic tone in his question.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I love being around creativity and my mother encouraged me to follow my dreams. We didn’t have a lot of money, but she said you can work anytime. Finding something you love to do with your life is more important than just making money to pay rent.”

  “What did your mother do?” he asked.

  “She was a waitress and house cleaner,” she said without shame. “Any job that didn’t take an education she took and it paid the bills, but the stress of not having money took its toll on her. When my father died, she had to raise me and keep going. She didn’t have any time for herself and she just slowly deteriorated spiritually. She really loved my father and the loss consumed her. That’s why it’s so hard for me to tell her what I did. I know she would feel guilty that her daughter …”

  Brooke turned away and caught her breath. Jake put his hand on hers to console her. The waiter arrived and Jake ordered for the two of them.

  By not breathing for ten seconds, Brooke could always hold back the tears that seemed overly eager to escape. Releasing her tension and taking a deep breath, Brooke turned to her wine glass. She couldn’t meet Jake’s gaze. They weren’t supposed to delve into such maudlin topics so early into learning about one another.

  “My mother never had to work,” he said. “My father was successful and she only worked if she wanted to or needed to for her own pleasure, but she was expected to be a good hostess and mother. I always wonder if she got out and had a career of her own, something she loved to do, she wouldn’t be so obsessed with how I’m living my life.”

  “I always think once MJ is grown, I’ll let him find his own way,” Brooke said. “But as the years pass I always wonder, will I know when that time is to let go?”

  Dinner arrived and they ate in silence. Picking at her fish, Brooke wondered if they had anything in common. Jake followed in his father’s golden footsteps, but Brooke had to work for everything she had. His mother never had to struggle financially and Brooke’s mother struggled every day with everything.

  Jake married Brooke to buffer himself from his overprotective mother and Brooke had to marry Jake just to take care of her ailing mother.

  Sitting in the restaurant she had walked by with Matthew dreaming about dining in one day, Brooke suddenly felt morose. Drinking expensive wine and dining on French cuisine, she would have rather been walking by outside with Matthew dreaming of someday.

  In France there was a thrill to eating in cafés, but in the States it was a luxury to have a French meal in an authentic French restaurant.

  Had she known that someday she would be with another man, Brooke would never have cared about ever walking through the lead-glass inlayed doors.

  “I used to live around here,” Brooke said, still thinking about her walks with Matthew.

  “Really?” he said, casually swishing the wine in his glass. Brooke noticed that he hadn’t touched his food either. Looking just as uncomfortable, Jake searched for something they could talk about. His eyes darted around the room for conversation inspiration.

  “If you haven’t already ordered the soufflé, we can go take a walk,” she suggested. Brooke only knew one thing for certain at French restaurants. You ordered the soufflé before you sat down to dine.

  “I’ve seen you devour an entire piece of chocolate cake in one orgasmic bite, what do you think?” he asked smiling. The waiter cleared their barely touched plates and Jake motioned for him to bring the soufflé.

  In minutes, a large puffy chocolate dessert erupting from a ceramic pot was placed in the middle of the table. From a separate dish, the waiter scooped steaming frothy whipped cream over the mountain of chocolate. Brooke could not contain her excitement.

  Placing two spoons on the plate containing the massive volcano of chocolate and cream, Brooke waited politely.

  Jake gently pushed it toward her.

  “I’m not abo
ut to lose a hand over this,” he joked. “I ordered it for you.”

  Clasping her hands together, Brooke pulled the dessert until she felt the steam on her face.

  “I will try to contain my ecstasy,” she muttered, picking up a spoon. Wondering where to start, Brooke finally decided to just get right to the heart of the molten mass and blew on the soggy chocolate, waiting for the steam to fade before gently spooning it in her mouth and moaning as she pulled it off the spoon through her lips.

  “So good,” she murmured and teased Jake. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” Jake shook his head and relaxed. Brooke knew where she had seen that look in his eyes before. It was always just before he wanted her.

  The pleasure of the chocolate was only heightened knowing what he was thinking.

  Almost finished, Brooke asked Jake again if he wanted a bite. Jake moved closer and nodded. Brooke dug in and pulled out a modest scoop.

  “Please contain yourself,” she joked meeting his gaze. Without losing eye contact, Brooke leaned toward Jake and felt a familiar warmth take over her body as she placed the spoon at Jake’s mouth and he gently accepted the pleasure. Breathing steadily, Brooke pulled the spoon out slowly and she heard Jake moan under his breath. Gently placing his warm hand on hers, he took the spoon and dipped it into the remaining chocolate, placing a modest warm spoonful at her lips.

  Accepting the warm spoonful, Brooke closed her mouth as Jake slowly pulled the spoon through her lips, and for once, Brooke didn’t moan as she sucked on the sweet chocolate soufflé. She was too busy looking at the hunger in his green eyes. Swallowing the chocolate with a gulp, Brooke knew they were reverting to the familiar physical intimacy and not learning more about one another that would bring them closer as a couple.

  Excusing herself, Brooke searched for the restroom and instead found a dark corner in the back of the restaurant where she stood to regroup.

  Taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes. Sensing someone approaching, Brooke opened her eyes as Jake pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Grabbing his tie and grasping the back of his suit jacket, Brooke felt a hot jolt sear her stomach and pleasure ripple through her body in response. Breathlessly they parted and Brooke clasped her hands on his flush face.

  “I need to get to know you, Jake,” Brooke whispered between breaths. “Whatever you’re feeling now fades in everyday life. There has to be something more.”

  Jake nodded and held onto her waist. Meeting her eyes, his breath hot on her cheeks, he nodded in agreement.

  “Let’s take a walk,” he proposed. Each taking a deep breath, they headed out of the restaurant and into the cool air of the evening.

  Taking her by the arm, they got in the car when it pulled up and drove past upscale dress shops and boutiques until they arrived at the entrance to a condominium building.

  “This is where I live,” he announced and Brooke craned her neck to take in the tall building. An attendant opened the door, greeted Jake and let them in.

  “This is my wife Brooke,” he said, introducing her to the regal older man. Nodding silently, the man said, “Welcome,” and they headed to the elevator.

  Placing a key in its slot, Jake hit the “P” button and Brooke looked at him surprised.

  Leaning casually against the back of the elevator car as it rose 20 stories, Brooke stood in anticipation as it slowed. For the longest time, the car slowly stopped and then there was a ding and finally the doors slowly opened. For the first time in her life, Brooke had a jaw-dropping moment. Casually swinging his keys, Jake stepped out of the elevator. Closing her gaping mouth, Brooke followed.

  In a large open-concept space, floor to ceiling windows revealed the city lights beyond. Walking up to the windows, Brooke stood in awe.

  “It looks so peaceful from up here,” she said to herself. Behind her, she felt Jake watching from the contemporary living room sofa. The whole condo was a page from a design magazine. It was exactly how Brooke wanted the house remodeled, but she had to factor in that she had a kid who liked to run around without washing his hands, and she had made revisions.

  Turning to Jake she smiled.

  “Damned pre nup,” she joked and her eyes were distracted by his artwork before she could gauge his reaction.

  “You have interesting taste,” she noted, going up to the largest piece. “Simon Canacutty.”

  Looking over at Jake, she wondered if he picked it out himself or did someone else choose his taste.

  Admiring the piece, Brooke smiled in recollection.

  “Is this an original?” she asked and she turned to see Jake nodding.

  Laughing, Brooke explained why she admired the piece.

  “At the gallery, Tyrone, who worked with me, bet that he could sell this piece to the next person who walked through the door,” she said, remembering the day the piece was sold. “Neither one of us really appreciate Simon’s work but he’s popular with hip, trendy, upper-class clientele. Ten minutes later, this beautiful woman walks in, beautiful natural-looking red hair like a mane, diamond earrings and large pendant necklace. He called her the Countess, he had worked with her before. So, she asks about the pieces and when they get to this one,” Brooke said, pointing at the large piece, “Tyrone really sells it and before you know it, it’s sold. I had to buy him lunch. He was a much better sales person than I. I couldn’t talk somebody into a piece I didn’t appreciate.”

  Turning her attention to papers and other personal effects in his condo, Brooke was curious if he liked the piece.

  “Is this your taste?” she asked while concentrating on things that could give her insight into the man watching her while she poked through his life. “Is she your designer?”

  Before Jake could answer, Brooke picked up a picture and turned to Jake in wonder.

  “The Countess?” she exclaimed, looking from the picture to Jake and back to the picture again. Jake was hugging the beautiful woman. They were smiling and looked very happy and absolutely in love.

  “The Countess is Jenny?” Brooke said again in amazement and utter horror. This is the woman to whom others compared her, to whom Jake compared her? Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in a dress she thought made her look sexy, Brooke covered her exposed thigh.

  Unable to look away from the picture, Brooke could feel her throat tighten.

  “I know this feeling, Jake,” she said to the photo. “When you’re together, nothing else matters, you feel whole. Nothing can replace that feeling. To have someone else love you so completely feels so good. When you lose it, you lose your sense of place in the world. Nobody can replace that feeling.”

  When Matthew hugged her, Brooke knew there was nothing else in the world she needed. Ripped from that comfort, Brooke was still stumbling startled through the world.

  “Is that how you feel, Jake?” she asked, looking at the man staring at the art piece his love had selected for him. “Am I just a placeholder? Time between? The inevitable knowledge that at some point you have to settle?”

  Jake mused her query. Turning his head toward her defeated, he answered with a question.

  “Do you feel like a placeholder?” he asked sincerely.

  Lowering her eyes, Brooke thought about how she felt around Jake.

  “I feel like the person you think you need to be with,” she explained. “I bet your Jenny is not someone who’s gonna settle down and I think at some point you’re going to want that.”

  Looking at Jake, Brooke knew they were both each other’s second choice.

  “The difference between us is that I don’t have anything to fall back on,” she said. “Your love is still there for you.”

  Jake closed his eyes and sighed.

  “Right now, that’s not a problem for me,” she said and Jake opened his eyes surprised by her revelation.

  Sauntering over to Jake, Brooke straddled him and he held onto her waist as she supported herself with her arms on his chest. The slit on her dress ripped a bit and Jake ripped it even further wh
ile never losing connection with her gaze. Smiling, Brooke leaned down and kissed Jake while he hugged her close.

  Parting, Brooke rested her forehead on his.

  “What are you looking for, Jake?” she asked in a questioning whisper, not knowing if he would be able to answer.

  “I want to try this, Brooke,” he whispered. “I want to try us.”

  Clasping her face in his hands, Jake brought Brooke to his eye level and pleaded with his tired eyes.

  “That’s all I needed to know,” she sighed and he leaned in until they were joined in a kiss.

  Jake unzipped her dress and Brooke pulled away breathlessly and stood. The gown slipped down her breasts and past her hips revealing the very expensive negligee she had purchased earlier. Jake lifted himself off the couch. Stumbling over furniture as they kissed and ripped off each other’s clothes, Jake led her into his dark bedroom with a full city view.

  Under the watchful eye of the picture perfect city view, they relapsed into the familiar and Brooke enjoyed the pleasure of the moment. This time she didn’t get up and walk away when they were through.

  Biting her lip when he pulled her close, Brooke fought the urge to pull away. Of all that they had just experienced, relaxing quietly together in post-coital bliss was the most intimate. Fists clenched, Brooke tried not to think of Matthew who enjoyed just being together and talking as much as she did.

  This is not betrayal, she tried telling herself. Sighing in relief as Jake’s breath grazed her neck as he slept, Brooke gently pulled away and went to his bathroom.

  Starting a steamy shower, Brooke sat on the ledge of the tub and let the hot water wash away the layer of guilt she seemed to build up with every intimate occasion.

  When would the guilt cease? She couldn’t spend the rest of her life without human contact. That was not possible.

  Although her time with Jake was pleasurable, Brooke never felt close to Jake.

  Sensing her distress, Jake pulled open the shower curtain and stared down at Brooke. Without saying a word, he joined her and she moved over to make room for him. Sitting silently until the water started to cool, Jake put an arm around Brooke and just swayed gently.