She hopped up, rubbing ineffectually at the fabric. Great. It was near impossible to get chocolate out of anything.
“Here. Let me help.” The stranger offered her a wad of paper towels he’d procured from somewhere, probably the bartender.
Kiersten took them. Their hands brushed, and a little spark of awareness shot up her arm. She ignored it for the more pressing matter of the stain on her jeans, rapidly soaking through. “Thanks. I think I’ll go clean up in the ladies’ room.” She snagged her purse.
“I’ll get you another,” the stranger offered.
Kiersten hesitated. She should say no, after all, it had been her fault, but his eyes held kindness, and she liked his smile. Why shouldn’t she accept a drink from a handsome man? It had to be the least she deserved after Billy.
“Sure,” she said softly. “Thank you.” She awkwardly offered her hand. “Kiersten. Kiersten Saunders.”
“Wade Lomax.” His palm slid against hers for a second, warm and firm. It might have been her imagination, but he seemed to clasp her hand for a fraction longer than was polite. “What was that—your drink,” he clarified as their handshake ended.
“Hot chocolate.”
“Coming up.” He sent her a playful salute as she turned, heading for the bathrooms at the rear of the bar.
Kiersten managed a smile, but sighed with relief when she reached the safety of the ladies’ room. She grabbed some hand towels, wet them, and locked herself inside a stall to rub at her jeans. The denim she wore was very pale, and the hot drink had splurged all over the fabric in a nice large stain. Wonderful.
She scrubbed for a few more minutes before she finally gave in and tossed the wadded up towels in the toilet. She flushed, then stared down at herself. Her favourite jeans.
Life just seemed to want to kick her in the ass these past few days.
Suck it up, girl. Her mother’s favourite words in a time of crisis.
Kiersten sighed, gave herself a few moments to mourn, then pulled herself together. She could buy another pair of jeans later. Besides, it wasn't like she had a romantic holiday to go on or anything.
She strode back out into the interior of the bar, past cow-eyed young couples making out. Everyone seemed to be making out on Valentine’s, but she guessed that was because she didn’t have a date.
Thanks to Billy.
As she approached the bar Wade turned, and as Kiersten met his gaze all thoughts of Billy and his stupid blonde bint flew from her mind.
Wade held out a mug. This cup of chocolate, Kiersten noted, did not have a heart piped on top. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She sipped. Hmmm. Perfect.
She slid into her seat. “Sorry I stared at you. Before.”
Wade shrugged. “That’s okay.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought I’d missed a spot shaving or something.” He took a drink of his beer. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it.
Kiersten looked at him enquiringly. “What?”
Wade rolled a shoulder. “Nothing.”
“No, go on.” Her curiosity, once stirred, could never be quelled. As a kid, she’d heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat more than a few dozen times. “Tell me.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up in an adorable half-smile. “Just thought… seems like a hell of a day to be drinking alone. Even if you haven’t started on the hard stuff yet.”
Kiersten shook her head on a sad, half-laugh. “On the contrary, I’d say it’s just about the only day when drinking alone is positively encouraged. It’s the only way to cope with the twenty-four hours geared around hugs, roses, and puppies.”
Wade laughed into his beer. “Is that why you’re here? Avoiding the small, pink-collared dogs tumbling from the sky?”
Kiersten sipped her hot chocolate slowly, contemplating a lie, or saying nothing at all. Finally she decided that she had no reason not to just tell him the truth. “No. My boyfriend ran out on me.”
He’d been about to take a drink, but Wade paused with the beer mug halfway to his lips. “Jeez. I’m sorry. That blows.”
Kiersten found herself smiling, or perhaps it was more of a grimace. “Yeah. It sort of does, actually.”
Silence threaded between them for a moment.
“Today?” he asked, as if to clarify Billy’s status as a “Bad Person”.
“Yesterday. We’d planned to take a trip for our anniversary. He left last night for our hotel. And he wasn’t alone.”
Wade’s eyes flashed wide for a second. “Seriously?”
Kiersten just nodded. The look on Wade’s face confirmed it; Billy had officially become a “Bad Person”.
“Wow.” Wade lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What a jerk-off. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
He dropped his hand. For a moment Kiersten felt the loss of the human contact keenly, then she took another drink of her hot beverage. When the silence dragged again, she started a new conversation.
“So what brings you out on this day of the hugs and puppies saint?”
Wade rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her words. “I’m here visiting my father.”
Kiersten’s brows dipped. “And you didn’t bring him along for a beer?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
Oh. Kiersten swallowed. Open mouth, insert foot. “I’m sorry.”
He half-shrugged. “Don’t be. How could you have known?” He sighed and leant against the bar, staring into space for a few seconds that stretched. “He’s tough as an old boot. He’ll pull through.”
“Have you come a long way?”
He shrugged again. “Ithaca, New York state.”
A pretty long way to come, she thought. “Are you staying long?” She met his eyes, dark brown, the colour of really rich cocoa.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Kiersten was surprised at the sudden stab of disappointment his words brought. There was no reason for it – she didn’t even know him. “Did you grow up in Ithaca?”
“Yeah, born and bred. My parents had a holiday apartment here in London – they loved it here. When my mom died, my dad decided to move out to the holiday place, at first temporarily. I guess he… found it hard to live in the house he and my mom had lived in for so long. Too many memories.”
Wade shifted, then pulled out the stool next to Kiersten’s. He sat, and the movement made his denim-clad thigh brush against hers. A frisson of awareness shot up Kiersten’s leg.
She felt equally surprised and disgusted. She’d just seen off her fiancé, a man she’d loved. Still loved. Now was no time to be feeling sexual attraction to a stranger.
Then again….
Kiersten’s memory flew back to last night, when, in a state, she’d phoned her best friend to rant and cry. Level-headed, unflappable Grace had simply said, “Well, it’s true you know. The best way to get over a man is to get under another one.”
Kiersten had been horrified at the time, but Grace had made her laugh, and had eased the hard ache around her heart for a moment.
Now she looked across at Wade Lomax and thought maybe her friend’s words had held some wisdom after all.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, in response to his comment about his parents.
He shrugged it off. “You?” he asked, startling her out of her reverie. “Where’d you grow up?”
“I’ve lived in the UK all my life. I grew up in Winchester, about forty minutes away by train. I came up here looking for work after I finished university.”
He shifted again, drank the last mouthful of his beer. “What did you find?”
“I work in marketing, for an events company.” But not today. Because today, she was supposed to be on holiday with her sweetie, kissing, relaxing, laughing…
Instead she had a half-cold cup of hot chocolate and consolation from a stranger who was leaving tomorrow for his home in the States.
Great.
“I guess I could go into
work,” she said, half to herself.
Wade nudged her. “Did you say you might go into work? That’s crazy talk. It’s after two in the afternoon. What could you possibly accomplish now by dragging yourself into work?”
Kiersten shrugged. He had a point. “You’re right. I just came here to kill some time.”
“Me, too.” Wade glanced at her. “Want to kill some time together?”
Kiersten’s face flushed, then she mentally bit her tongue. Of course he didn’t mean what she thought he meant. She’d had her mind in the gutter, obsessing over what Grace had said last night. Stupid.
Of course, she bet Wade had much nobler intentions in mind. He probably just felt sorry for her. Poor little Kiersten, thrown over by her cheating boyfriend and just before a romantic holiday to boot.
“Don’t feel you have to babysit me,” Kiersten reassured him. “I’m not a charity case.”
“No, and you don’t look like one.” He sent her an easy smile. “I just meant we could get some food together, maybe see a movie. You have the day off, and the medicine the nurses just gave my Dad means he’ll be sleeping until the morning.”
“Ah… oh.” Unsure what to say, Kiersten tried a friendly smile. “Sure, it’d be nice to stave off my inevitable evening of burning Billy’s possessions and dancing around the pile.”
Suddenly she realised that she’d started to sound like a bunny boiler. She swallowed. “Kidding, of course.”
Wade grinned. “No, you weren’t.”
“No, you’re right. Does it make things any better if I promise only to burn his most treasured possessions?”
Wade touched a hand to his chest. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
Now Kiersten grinned back at him, feeling lighter. “I’ll let you know if you reach the border of the danger zone.”
Wade pulled a worn, black leather wallet from his jeans pocket and placed a crisp five pound note on the counter, under his empty bottle. “Movie theatre, then?”
Kiersten stood. Why not. “Something you want to see?” she asked as they headed for the door.
Wade held the door open for her. She brushed against his chest as she walked past, and heat shimmered through her blood. Down, girl. Just because he was majorly hot did not mean she could start getting excited. After what had happened with Billy, she didn’t want a man for anything more than friendship for the foreseeable future, no matter what Grace had said.
“Well, as I’m a man, I like films with car chases, explosions, and guns.”
The February wind whipped through Kiersten’s hair, and she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her grey, fur-collared coat. “I like those sort of films, too.”
With a laugh, Wade narrowed his eyes at her. “Hmmm. Maybe you’re a man in disguise.”
“Either that or the operation went very well.”
He laughed out loud. Kiersten really liked that; she could be odd little self and he thought that she was funny.
“It’s a few blocks to the nearest theatre,” Kiersten told him as they set off at a brisk pace. “Walk or subway?”
Wade shrugged. “Might as well walk. That way we can enjoy all the decorated windows.”
The sarcasm dripping from his voice made a laugh sputter from her.
She was acutely aware of him walking beside her, even though people surrounded them from every angle. Most of them were Londoners – walking fast, headphones plugged in, some drinking from Starbucks or Costa cups. Others were clearly tourists, poring over maps, walking idly, and taking pictures of anything that stopped moving for five seconds.
“What do you do?” Kiersten asked when they stopped at a street crossing. The light on the opposite side of the white-striped street flashed to a red man.
“Hmm?”
“Before, you asked me about my job but I don’t know yours yet.”
“Oh.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m a travel writer.”
Kiersten flipped through her mental files. Wade Lomax… Suddenly she saw him in her mind, clear as day, his face in a picture box above a stand of travel books in Waterstones and WHSmith.
“You’re that Wade Lomax!” She bounced on her feet as she said it, excited to have a reason to get excited.
Wade studied her, an amused expression playing on his features. “I sort of feel like I should introduce myself all over again.”
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Textbook Romance by Anne Holly
Chase after love? As a single mother, Professor Liberty Sullivan knows better. Between her flighty mother and a disastrous history with men, she's pretty much soured on the whole concept of romance. Personal freedom and self-reliance are her new guiding mantras. Raising her son and being a career star are the most important things now.
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An ex-cop who’s making a new life for himself and his daughter, Seth Webster has every reason to play it safe. Then he meets Liberty. Prickly about love, following some crazy anti-romance curriculum, she still makes Seth's heart pound. And a lifetime of cop instinct tells him he's about to teach Liberty that this romance will be anything but by the book.
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Libby Sullivan hated The Scarlet Letter section of the “Ideology of Literature” course she taught.
Carefully keeping her intellectual mask in place, she used the last bit of class time for free discussion and reactions to the book. It was her job to push her students to consider the text in new ways, despite the twinge she felt in the vicinity of her heart. It’s just a book, she told herself, even though she didn’t really believe it.
“I thought it was really sad,” a junior in the back reflected. “No one really got a happy ending, though I guess the author tried a bit at the end, since the little girl grew up okay. The two main characters loved each other, but that still didn’t seem to count for them. They just ended up buried close to each other; that’s all.”
Libby heard the same complaint every year.
“In the end, Hester Prynne is redeemed not by love but by expressing her penance through a life of charity work, modesty and strong independence. Her estranged husband dies, twisted by his hate; her lover, Reverend Dimmesdale, dies of guilt after giving too little too late to his illegitimate daughter, Pearl, who is irrevocably alienated from the community where she was born due to her parents’ actions. But Hester finds some peace through reclaiming her quiet dignity despite her badge of shame.” The themes of sin and redemption, and propriety over personal freedom, were always things Libby noticed students tended to under-value in the book. Their belief that love is worth any price, no matter who got hurt, usually got in the way. “Hester believed that her demonstration of restraint, of having learned her lessons, would redeem her, and I believe that’s as happy as the ending could be, considering the attitudes on wives committing adultery of the time.”
“It’s not like her old husband even loved her,” another pretty student complained. “I don’t see why she had to live like a nun to show she was sorry for falling in love. I mean, like, it’s only natural, what she did.”
Only natural, but leading to so much pain, Libby added silently. They’re young, she reminded herself. Unfortunately, most of them will learn differently soon enough.
“But isn’t the point of the book that Hester, Pearl, and Dimmesdale would’ve all been better off without the puritanical dedication the town had to conventions?” A deep male voice from the front said. “I figure Hawthorne’s saying it’s not that she and Dimmesdale were wrong for being in love, but that the community was wrong for standing in their way. That love, that family bond, has a sanctity that shouldn’t be touched by rumors or prudes.”
The student, Seth, was a tall, lanky mature student she usually welcomed answers from. Today, however, she would have appreciated his silence more. He was a little too handsome and romantic notions from someone who looked like him, though they might have thrilled her when she was a
junior herself, now sounded as appealing to her as a snake offering an apple.
“But isn’t it possible that they all would’ve been better off if Dimmesdale and Hester had never given into passion, since he wasn’t prepared to follow through on it? Reproduction is a natural result, yes, but the sex itself was a choice they made, right? Hester had no other option but to give birth after the deed was done, which left her rather compromised, so perhaps she and Dimmesdale should have controlled themselves,” she said, carefully keeping her voice bland. “It was Dimmesdale’s guilt and weakness involved in that choice, as much as the town’s shaming, that lead to their being apart.”
“True, I guess,” Seth conceded. “He was no hero, and a terrible father. But, if he had controlled his instincts better, Hester wouldn’t have had Pearl at all, so I suppose she’d think it was worth it in the long run.”
“But is that supported by the text?” Libby pressed. “For Hawthorne, Pearl is the embodiment of her parents’ sin, isn’t she? Eventually, the child can’t even recognize her mother without that badge of shame, showing how the so-called ‘love affair’ cast a pall over their lives. Should we necessarily assume that Hester considered it all worth it because she had a daughter to raise in such conditions?”
“But, for a parent, doesn’t a child make everything worth it, in the end?” Seth was pressing back, with a flame in his eyes that announced his own personal passion for what he was saying.
“That’s a rather modern way of viewing it,” Libby said weakly, but couldn’t deny the softening she felt at his reasoning. Wispy images passed, fleetingly, through her mind; a toddler smearing cake on his face, a little boy clinging to her during a scary part in a movie, a big smile with gaps left by lost teeth… “But, yes,” she said, “it’s a possible reading.”
Grateful to find the time had run out, she reminded the class they’d be moving on to Madame Bovary after the upcoming midterm exam and wrapped up the session. She pushed her hair back off her forehead, realizing that, despite her exhaustion, it would be hours still before she could sleep.
But, at least they were finished with The Scarlet Letter unit.
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