by Ivy Carter
“Oh my God, you smell so friggin’ good, Dane,” Simone says as she leans in toward my neck and takes a big whiff. She giggles then peers up at me through thick black eyelashes. “But I’m sure you know that already, right?”
I force a smile to my face. “I like to shower.”
She swats my chest then takes a sip of her beer. Her lips slowly wrap around the bottle and she locks her gaze on mine, then drops her jaw to slide the tip of the bottle into her mouth. It’s a move designed to make me think of her sucking cock. It’s supposed to make my own cock stir in excitement with the promise I’m seeing in her eyes.
It’s supposed to, but I’m just not feeling a damn thing.
I clear my throat and wave at the bartender, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a wide smile. I need a few more drinks, that’s all. Once I have enough, I won’t be able to think straight. I can retrain my body and my brain, and then I won’t need to rely on alcohol to purge Emme.
“Jim Beam and ginger ale, please,” I tell him.
A young blonde who must be a freshly minted twenty-one-year-old jostles me from behind, spilling a bit of her drink on my leg. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she says with an embarrassed giggle. She grabs a napkin off the bar and begins to pat my thigh, nudging her way between me and Simone. “I’m such a klutz.” Pat, pat.
“He’s fine, sugar,” Simone says as she leans toward me. She grabs the napkins from the girl and tosses them. “I’ll make sure he’s nice and dry, thanks.” There’s no mistaking the edge of possessiveness in her tone.
The girl scampers off, and Simone rolls her eyes.
“God, could she be more obvious?” She laughs. “You must get that a lot, huh?”
“I don’t think she was flirting,” I say.
“You’re adorable.” She presses a kiss to my nose, then takes another swig of beer. “Wanna dance? Let’s dance!”
“I’m gonna sit here for a minute—I haven’t gotten my drink yet.”
She pouts, pushing out her plump red lips. “Seriously? Okay, fine. I’m gonna dance, then. I’ll wait out there for you.” Her eyes rake my body over, and she makes sure to brush her breasts against my upper arm as she slides off the stool. Her red dress is molded to her curves, and her red heels make her legs look shapely.
She’s gorgeous.
And she’s just not doing it for me.
I watch her go to the dance floor to make sure she gets there okay. When the bartender brings my drink, I take a slow sip and mull it all over. Yeah, Simone’s a little over the top, something I forgot about in the long absence from her company. But this isn’t about her. All night I’ve been comparing her to Emme, and there’s just no comparison for me.
Why the hell am I here?
I stare down into the amber liquid. I don’t want to be here. My stomach has been a fucking mess for sixteen fucking days now. Every minute, every hour I have to tell myself to stop thinking about Emme, to let her go so she can find someone who can be everything for her. Convincing myself it isn’t me because I’m too fucked up to make her happy, to give her all of myself.
But I miss her so much my entire body hurts.
And every minute, every hour that passes, that missing grows stronger and stronger.
What I feel for her isn’t diminishing with time. It’s like my brain and body are starving for her, so they’re hoarding every sensory memory I have of her. The way her skin flushes when she’s turned on. The freckles on the tops of her cheekbones. The small scar on her upper lip, which she told me on the phone that one night was from hitting a coffee table as a kid.
Her body shaking as she comes.
Her saying I love you.
Fuck me. I’m falling in love with her. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I am.
Or did I already fall in love with her?
I take another swig of the drink and let the alcohol sink in. The realization sinks in. My skin starts to feel warm all over, and the burn slides down my throat to settle in my belly.
I think I need to talk to someone about this. Maybe my friend Dominic can shed some light. Surely he’s learned a thing or two by now in his Master’s program in psychology. Some kind of mumbo-jumbo that will shed light on my emotions.
I glance over at the dance floor. Simone is sliding her hands up and down her body. Half the guys on the dance floor are watching her with their tongues practically lolling out. She’s not looking at me or any of them; she’s just enjoying herself. Even though I’m not turned on, I still smile. At least Simone is having a good time. She’s comfortable in her skin, knows who she is and what she wants.
I check the time on my phone. It’s almost nine. Hopefully a call from me won’t disturb Dominic’s evening routine with his son. I take one more sip of my drink then leave the rest on the counter. I need a clear head to talk to him—and to drive Simone home.
When I reach her side, I touch her upper arm. She opens her eyes and gives me a crooked smirk. “I knew you’d be out here soon enough.”
The thunking bass of the dance song playing fills the space around us, and it’s suddenly too loud and annoying.
“I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” I tell her in a loud voice.
“What? Did you say you want to leave?” A deep frown line separates her brow. “But we haven’t been here very long, and the crowd is just starting to pick up.”
“I know.” I cup her elbow to lead her off the floor. I’m tired of yelling over the music. “I need to be honest. The thing is, I have feelings for someone else. And being out with you tonight…it isn’t the right thing for me at this time.”
She tilts her head and looks at me. I can see disappointment on her face, but she gives a slow, knowing nod. “Yeah, I kinda figured something was going on. You don’t seem like you’ve really been ‘here’ all night. Lucky girl. I hope she realizes what she’s got.”
“The issue isn’t her, it’s me.”
Her eyebrow raises. “I guess I can believe that.” She laughs. “You can be an asshole sometimes.”
“Hey!” I say in mock protest. I know she’s right though. Gotta love her bluntness.
“In all seriousness, that’s fine, you can go. I’m gonna stay here though. I’ll get a cab home. I’m not ready to call it a night yet. For a Monday, this place is hoppin’.” Simone’s perfect lips part and she gives me a genuine smile. She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Good luck, and if you’re ever single again…” She winks.
“You sure? I don’t mind driving you home.” I know she can hear the concern in my voice. I don’t feel right leaving her alone.
“I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions—I have been for much longer than I’ve known you, mister.” There’s a challenge in her voice.
I raise my hands in defeat. “You got it. Get home safe and please. Watch out for these animals—they’re not all good guys like me.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Fine, Dad. Go. I’ll be okay.” With that, she spins around and heads back into the crowd.
I watch her for a moment longer, then grab my coat from the coat rack, turn, and head out the door. The air is frigid, and the walk to my car feels like it takes far longer than it does. My stomach is churning once again. I shove my hand into my pocket to dig out my keys.
Once I get in my car, I crank the heat on and just sit there for a minute. I need to clear my head and figure out what the hell I want to say to Dominic. Surely he’ll be able to help me not make a total fuckup of this once again.
God, I’m such an asshole. A stupid, stupid asshole. Emme was mine, all mine, and I pushed her away because of my old shit. Despite the fact that I read her diary, saw how she felt about me in her honest and vulnerable and private words, words she never intended for me to see.
Despite the fact that she told me she loved me without hearing it in return.
How many ways could Emme risk her own heart and show me how she felt in order for me to believe in it? Is it too late? Has she started getting over me?<
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My heart splinters at the thought.
And then it hits me that I don’t need to talk to Dominic about this.
I don’t need a goddamn committee to tell me how I feel about Emme.
I already know what I need to do; all he’s going to say is what everyone else would say to me. I have to stop shutting her out and trust her, have to let that old shit go. Emme gave me everything, though I don’t deserve it, and in return, I’ve continually shortchanged her, not made her feel special and valuable.
My condo is quiet and lonely every night when I get home from work, and I don’t want to fucking live this way anymore. I want to see her beautiful head on my pillow. I want her wearing my T-shirt when she putters around my place in the morning while I make us breakfast. I want to watch movies with her and find out everything she loves. And I want to give her all those things she deserves.
Emme’s worth the risk.
I put my Bluetooth on and dial a number. Before I talk to Emme, I have somewhere else I need to start first. Someone who deserves my efforts as well.
The phone rings. “Hello?” my mom says, a thread of concern in her tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so late, Dane. Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I’m sorry I didn’t write you back,” I say. I draw in a slow breath, exhale through my nostrils. I turn the car right and head toward my place. The vise grip around my lungs is easing up, though my heart is beating faster from nervousness. “I’ve been thinking…and I’d like to accept your offer to come to Thanksgiving.”
She’s silent for a moment. “I’d love to have you there. I want to be clear though that it won’t be just us.”
The tension-filled edge in her voice makes me feel guilty. I’ve led her to feeling like this by holding on to the past and not trying to forgive and let go. “I know they’ll be there. And that’s okay, too.”
There’s a small sniffle. Her voice is clogged with tears and it trembles as she says, “Oh, Dane. Thank you, so much. I really appreciate it. I’ll make all your favorite things, okay? Just let me know what you want.”
“It’s fine. I don’t expect a big fuss. You just do what you do.”
Her voice is choked with emotion as she thanks me and tells me yet again how happy she is that I’m going to be there. I’m smiling as we get off the phone, feeling that heavy weight falling from my shoulders.
A weight so heavy I’d forgotten I was carrying it all this time. And to think, all I ever needed to do was put it down.
Now I focus on getting home. I need to get to bed early. I want to be well rested and bring my A-game when I talk to Emme tomorrow. And pray it isn’t too late.
Dane
I get to the office early, to make sure I’m there a little bit before Emme’s supposed to arrive. I type out my message in a new Word document, print it, then fold it in half and staple it. Then I leave it on her desk. My heart is pounding so hard the sound fills my ears, and I’m surprised to find my hands shaking.
When’s the last time I’ve been this nervous?
Oh, probably the last time I put everything on the line. No big deal, right?
I put my coat on and leave the building. The sky is overcast but it isn’t as bitter cold outside. Still, I feel raw from the risk of finally admitting my true feelings to myself and to her. She might say no. She might be done with me, unwilling to give me another chance.
I push those thoughts out of my head. I can’t think like that.
The walk to the coffee shop on the corner is slow. I move with purpose into the warm building, the door dinging as I open it. I’m flooded with the scents and sounds of fresh coffee being brewed.
The barista, Charlotte, is young and friendly, always has a big smile on her face. “Hi, Dane!” Yeah, I’m a regular here. I’m sure it helps that I tip her well—I enjoy getting good service. “What can I get ya this morning? The usual?”
I nod. “Sounds good.” Maybe the drink will help settle my nerves some.
“One tall black coffee, cream and two sugars, coming right up.” She rings me out, then pours the drink and hands it to me.
I make my way to a table near the massive front window and sit down, strip off my coat and hang it over my chair. Pry the lid off the coffee and let it cool down for a minute. Deliberate actions to help distract me from thinking about what I’m waiting for.
Yet my brain still keeps hammering one phrase over and over again: Will she come?
I just don’t know, and that scares the hell out of me.
Minutes pass. I fight the urge to look at the time on my phone every three seconds or so. Fuck, this is real agony. I’m feeling it far more than I had with that first note I left her, instructing her to finger herself in the bathroom. My job was on the line then.
My heart is on the line now, and the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been for me before.
Finally I can’t take it anymore. I check the time. It’s ten after. She’s late.
Or she’s just not coming.
My stomach sinks. I sip my coffee and struggle to get my rampant heart rate to calm the fuck down. I knew this might happen, despite my hope otherwise. But she’s worth the effort and risk. If it takes another way to reach her, then I’ll do it. Maybe I can camp out at her apartment or something. Make her hear me out.
The café door dings, and my heart skips a beat as I look up.
A round guy with a baseball cap strolls in. He heads right for the counter.
Time for me to go. I stand and try not to give into the frustration threatening to spill out. I’m not mad at her; I’m mad at me, because I’m the reason I’m here alone. She doesn’t know how I feel, and it’s my job to make sure she does.
If she decides after that to still stay away, I will respect her choice. Or at least try to, even though it might kill me.
As I shrug on my coat, the door dings again, and Emme walks in, her hair tousled, her cheeks flushed. Her gaze darts around the room and lands on me.
Time seems to stop as our eyes lock. Everything I’m feeling for her comes roaring right back to the surface. The intensity almost bowls me over. Now that I know I’ve fallen for her, it makes things so much clearer, much less confusing.
Her steps are halting as she comes toward me, and she has the paper in her grip. I want to reach over and touch her, kiss her, but I restrain myself. Words first. And then, if I’m the fucking luckiest guy ever, I’ll be able to taste her again.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask her.
She shakes her head and licks her lips. “I don’t need more caffeine, but thanks.” She slips into the chair across from me, and I drop back down into my seat. She leaves the paper on the table and drops her hands to her lap. Her gaze skitters all around the room, and a low flush rises even higher on her cheeks.
She’s so fucking pretty it takes my breath away. Pretty and nervous as hell. I want to wrap her in my arms, take away all her sadness.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I admit.
“I wasn’t sure I would either. I almost didn’t.” Emme looks at me. “What would you have done if I hadn’t?”
“I would have tried again.” My throat tightens and I swallow, the words struggling to come out. It’s so easy to tell her all the things I want to do to her body. So much harder finding the right way to express how she makes me feel. I tried to write it out last night, thinking I could leave it as a note for her, but I wanted her to see my face as I talk to her. Not just hide behind text.
She fills the silence. “Your note didn’t tell me what you wanted to speak about. I’m assuming this isn’t a work-related discussion, since you asked me to meet you here.” Her words are stilted.
“No, it’s not.” I draw in a breath.
“Dane, I’m job hunting,” she blurts out before I can continue. I see the pulse at the base of her throat throb. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to work here anymore, and I figured I should just tell you so you can start finding someone to replace
me. I just…I can’t do this anymore.”
She’s leaving. My stomach sinks hard, and I grip the table to fight back the wave of despair that floods me. I didn’t think it would come to this.
She lets out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry.”
“I know why you’re leaving—because I messed this all up. But I don’t want you to go. Every day I’ve been without you has been hell.” My words are raw, and I let them pour out in a rush. “You gave me your heart and I didn’t realize how precious that gift was until I lost it. Until I blew it,” I amend. “I want you, Emme. Plain and simple.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks several times. Her face is filled with such grief it makes my heart ache. “But I need more than that, and you’re still so in love with your ex-wife that I’m never going to get it. I want you too, but I—”
“Wait, what? I’m not in love with her,” I interrupt.
She swallows, confusion clear in her expression. “But…she’s the reason why you’re unable to trust people. Why you can’t have more than a physical relationship. Right?”
I unclench my jaw. How the hell did she come to that conclusion? Still in love with Marianne? The idea is crazy. I reach over and take the hand she has resting on the tabletop. It’s warm and fits my hand perfectly. I don’t want to let it go. “No, Emme. I don’t love her, if I ever did. Things with us went bad early on in our marriage. In fact, I don’t really think about her anymore. My fear of trust is more in regards to my brother now than her. But I’m ready to let that go and stop letting it consume me.”
“Oh.” Her lips remain parted as she mulls this over. “I thought… Well, when you told me that morning that you couldn’t let go of your past, I thought it was because you still have unresolved feelings for her.”
I squeeze her fingers and stroke her soft skin. Her wall is dropping again, though I can still see uncertainty in her expression. She isn’t sure what to believe.
I suck in a deep breath and exhale, forcing myself to push past the last bit of reserve in me. Do or die time. “There’s no possible way I have feelings for her, because every bit of space in my heart belongs to you.”