Flawless

by JD Hawkins

  “Oh really?” I say, grinning as I set them on the filing cabinet.

  “It’s true,” he says. “An admirer who thinks you are brilliant, sexy, and about to launch an insanely successful app.”

  I stand up to wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his in a brief kiss that quickly deepens. By the time I pull away, I’m gasping for breath.

  “They’re beautiful,” I tell him. “I love stargazer lilies.”

  “I know it’s going to be a stressful couple of days, and I wanted you to have something alive and blooming to look at while you’re spending far too much time in your office.”

  I lean against his chest and close my eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Are you looking forward to dinner at Uchiko tonight? I know we’ll probably be talking shop the whole time, but can’t hurt to do it while eating the best Japanese food in town. Their hama chili and pajeon with wagyu beef are going to blow your mind.”

  My stomach does a little flip as I realize I’ve got plans with Jonathan tonight. “Actually, we’re gonna need to raincheck it. I’m sorry to bail like this, but my friend is having a…a medical emergency.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “It’s actually not—” And in that fatal split second, I decide not to correct him. “It’s her mom. They just found out she doesn’t have a lot of time left. I offered moral support, so. ”

  Liam pulls me tighter.

  “Please, don’t apologize. Take care of your friend. I’m so sorry. We’ll do Uchiko another time. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  * * *

  “Thanks, Liam. You’re the best.”

  He turns to go and I suddenly feel guilty for the half-lie, even though I know I’m not actually doing anything wrong by going to see Jonathan. On the other hand, I can’t imagine he’d be thrilled to hear I’m meeting up with my ex-boyfriend after work. I try to shake off the worry as my email pings with a bunch of new messages from Sharice.

  As I shift through traffic, trying to avoid getting stuck behind the slower cars, I replay my conversation with Liam in my head. I should have just told him the truth. He would have believed me when I explained that I had no residual feelings for Jonathan, that the only reason I was meeting him was because his mother is dying and he has nobody else he can talk to about it. Most compassionate human beings would have made the same decision I did, right? Liam would have understood that.

  But instead, I panicked and lied by omission. And if I try to tell Liam now, he’ll think I was hiding the meeting on purpose, that there’s actually something to be suspicious about. I just have to hope I never get caught. Because if there’s one thing Liam has no tolerance for, it’s people who violate his trust.

  20

  Zoe

  I meet Jonathan at Sweet Little Thing that evening, a charming pie shop with a retro, down-home vibe about a mile away from what used to be our apartment and is now just mine. I try hard to stop stressing about the white lie I told, reminding myself that I’m not cheating or doing anything else Liam would have objected to if I had told him the whole truth. All I have to do is go to work tomorrow morning, say my evening went fine, and if a situation like this ever comes up again, I’ll be prepared to be 100% honest.

  But as I sit in my car in the parking lot, I start getting anxious. Was this a horrible idea? What if seeing Jonathan breaks my heart all over again, or worse—makes me want him back? What if he wants me back? Is it possible his story was all an elaborate lie? What if being around him just brings back all my insecurity and self-doubt, or makes me question how valid and meaningful my career is? Jonathan always made my work seem so inferior compared to his.

  This might be the worst decision I’ve ever made.

  My phone dings with a text, and I see it’s from Jonathan. Saw your car pull in—I’m in the booth in the front left window. See you in a sec.

  This is it. It’s too late to back out now.

  Jonathan looks both the same and different from how I remember him when I walk in and make my way toward the booth, tapping his fingers on the table while scrolling through his phone. His hair is longer, his face slightly thinner, his stubble now a full-on beard, and the skin around his eyes looks puffy from crying.

  He glances up as the door jingles and stands to give me a quick, platonic hug before I sit down across from him, and I’m relieved to find there’s no spark between us, no butterflies in my stomach or a sick feeling at the fact that he’s no longer mine. Instead, I feel empathy for the loss he’s staring down, and a little concern over the visible indications that he hasn’t been eating or sleeping well.

  “Hey,” I say, settling into the seat. “How are you?”

  He just shrugs and clears his throat, looking down at the table. There’s a small pot of coffee and two cups, a slice of cherry pie and a slice of blackberry pie spaced out between us, along with two sets of silverware rolled up in cute gingham cloth napkins.

  “I know you only like fruit pies and those were the two flavors they had left,” he says awkwardly. “I’ll take the one you don’t want. Coffee’s decaf, but it’s good.”

  I pour myself a half cup of coffee and then slide the cherry toward me, though I don’t feel like eating. He must not either, since he ignores his pie after the first bite.

  “Thanks for coming to see me. All my family’s back in Houston now and this is my first night alone since we got the news. I mean, I have other friends, but you’re the only one who knows my mom and how our relationship is. And I know you get what this is like.”

  “Yeah. Regardless of what happened with us, I’m truly fond of your mom, and always will be. And I know how much she means to you.”

  He nods, staring off into space for a few moments. “She stopped talking today. My dad told me that. They’re not sure why. She can still write short messages on a notepad, but…what am I going to do without her? It’s impossible to imagine a world where she’s just…not here anymore. Where she won’t be around for the rest of my life.” His eyes look wet.

  I slide around to the other side of the booth next to Jonathan and give him a full, proper hug as I feel hot tears gather in my own eyes. “I know. It’s an impossible thing. And it feels so helpless, and it fucking sucks, and that’s the truth.” I squeeze Jonathan’s shoulder and then shift back over to my side of the booth. “The thing is, you’ll get through it. It’s not fast, and it’s not easy, but the good feelings will start to come back. Like a trickle at first, and then a stream. Just focus on the time you have with her right now, and then with everything that comes after…trust that you’ll be strong enough to handle it. And you’ll have tons of support. You’ll get through.”

  His eyes are red, but he flashes a small smile. “How do you know all of that?”

  “That’s how my mom always talked about it,” I admit. “When my grandma passed. My mom was older, sure, and she was in a different stage of her life, but same as you—she always assumed her mom would be in her life, as the grandmother of her kids, as a shoulder to cry on, and that she would always be able to call her when she had a question or needed someone to vent to. She still gets upset about it at the same time every year, and during the holidays. It’s really hard, but she’s healed so much over time. You will, too.”

  Jonathan finally eats more of his pie, and I cut into the cherry slice and take a bite. It’s wonderful, loaded with ripe, sweet cherries and just a hint of tartness, but I have a hard time enjoying it. When we were a couple, we would pass Sweet Little Thing on the way home from Downtown and talk about how we should go sometime, but we never had until now. It’s sad that we finally made it here, but only after we broke up—and under such awful circumstances.

  “Zoe…look, I know you weren’t looking for an apology, and I want to respect that, but I also want to say that—that I’m sorry. For how I treated you when things started not working between us, my shitty behavior, going behind your back, the way it ended. You deserved better.”

  “I appreci
ate that.” I nod. “But I think it turned out for the best, for both of us. Really.”

  “You might be happy to know that before my mom got sick, the number one thing she liked to talk about was how much of an idiot I was for losing you. She said she still loved me but man, was she pissed at me for leaving! She said I’d never find another woman like you.”

  I laugh, a small laugh. “She’s right. You won’t. But I’m sure you’ll end up with someone who fits you better, anyway. And I’m glad to have your mom’s vote of confidence.”

  I notice he’s been careful to avoid mentioning Georgia, and I’m not sure if it’s out of respect for me or if he and his assistant have split up already. Given the fact that he called me for emotional support, I have a feeling it’s the latter—but I don’t push the issue. Jonathan’s relationship status is of little interest to me now, and knowing he’s probably single again is no reason to gloat. I’ve never been one to take pleasure in the suffering of others, even when it comes to exes. Besides, I’ve already gotten my revenge—by moving on to better things.

  We talk for another forty minutes or so, catching up a little on our own lives but mostly rehashing our best memories of his mom and all the fun stories about her that he remembers from his childhood. It’s difficult at first, trying to talk like normal people, like we don’t have such a rocky history so recently behind us, but soon it’s almost like when we first met—our conversation friendly and relaxed, if not entirely comfortable the way we used to be.

  When I get a text from Veronica checking in on me, I realize how much time has passed.

  “It was good to see you, but I better head home and get some work done. We have a new app launching in a few days and as the Director of Marketing, it’s solely on me to make sure the campaign is perfectly in place. No room for error.”

  “I get that,” Jonathan replies. “Same for me—it’s very hard to win in the courtroom if you don’t have an airtight case prepared. Congratulations on the new gig, by the way.”

  “Thanks. I’m actually loving it. Are you going to be alright by yourself tonight before you fly out to see your family? I have a couch, and I’m sure Garfield wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking. But speaking of the orange terror, would you ever consider working out some kind of joint custody? Maybe I could take him every other weekend.”

  I laugh. “You know what? I’d definitely consider it. Especially since I’ve been traveling so much for work lately. We’ll figure something out.”

  Jonathan and I stand, and we hug one more time, longer than before but no less platonic.

  “You’re going to make it through this, okay?” I tell him. “It’ll be really hard, and it’ll take time, but eventually, it’ll get easier.”

  I give him one more extra firm squeeze and then pull away. He leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, wiping a tear from his eye afterward.

  “You’re a good person, Zoe. Thanks for everything. It was great seeing you. Good luck with the job and the app and…I guess whatever else comes your way. I mean it.”

  I smile. “Yeah, you too. Take care.”

  When I get back to my car, I realize I feel lighter than I have in months—maybe even longer.

  Things with Liam have been amazing, of course, but after seeing Jonathan…it’s almost like this huge weight has been lifted off my chest, knowing that the demise of my last relationship wasn’t my fault and that I can move forward with Liam full speed, without any lingering attachments to Jonathan or regrets over how things turned out between us. For the first time in years, I feel utterly at peace with myself. And that’s how I know I’m ready to fully commit to Liam, to give myself to him completely.

  I just hope he feels the same.

  21

  Liam

  I spend the rest of the day at work preparing for the app’s launch, so busy with phone calls and check-in visits to Peter up in the Tech Lair that it’s after 7 p.m. by the time I realize I’m starving and haven’t heard from Zoe since this afternoon.

  I shoot her a quick text but feeling guilty for not checking in on her sooner, making sure she’s okay. On top of that, I feel dumb for telling her to let me know if she needed anything. Whatever’s going on with her friend, there’s not much I can do to ease the pain of a loss like that.

  I know she might still be out with Kiley or Veronica or Savannah or whoever it is, but I decide to drop by her place on my way home in case she’s there, just to offer my support and see how she’s holding up. There’s enough stress here at work for her, and now she has the additional burden of sharing one of her best friends’ emotional upheaval on top of that. I’m sure she’d appreciate me showing up for her, even if I can’t solve any of her problems. On top of that, I don’t want her to think I’m the kind of guy who offers to be there and doesn’t actually mean it, secretly praying they’ll get bonus points for seeming like a good person without having to follow through. I always follow through.

  When I told Zoe I wanted to be with her, that I wanted to be at her side, I really meant it. She’s the first woman I’ve dated where I could not only envision a future where we’re together, but actually imagine us building a life. I know it’s too soon to be thinking this way, but I can picture proposing to her, getting married, having children. It’s not a fantasy, either. When I see us together, it’s not some idealized version of reality. I know that relationships are a lot of work, that they take compromise and sacrifice. But I trust Zoe. I know she’s worth it. And I want her to know that whatever’s going on, she’ll always come first, not work or money. For now, the app is in good shape. The launch will be fine. And even if something does go awry, Zoe is far more important to me than anything I’m doing here at LoveLife.

  I shut down my laptop and leave the office despite the hundreds of emails in my inbox that still need answering. I’ve never been to Zoe’s apartment and she hasn’t had a chance to answer my text yet, but her address is easy to find in the employee database.

  On my way out, I duck into Zoe’s office and tug one of the lilies out of her bouquet. I figure if she’s not home, I can leave it on her doorstep with a note—that way she’ll have a little reminder of me whenever she does get back.

  When I get to the address on file, Zoe’s car isn’t in the driveway outside the bungalow apartment and all the lights seem to be off. I try calling her again but it goes straight to voicemail, so I revert to Plan B and scribble a quick note on a scrap of paper. Stopped by to check in—sorry I missed you. Hope things went okay. Call me when you get in, no matter how late it is. I hesitate for a moment and then write it anyway: Love, L.

  Then I leave the note and the lily on her front step, propped against the door so she won’t accidentally step on them when she goes to unlock it.

  After I back out onto the street again, I turn up the volume on my phone so that I’ll be sure to hear it if Zoe calls me on my way home.

  There’s a minor car wreck jamming up the route I would normally take to I-35, though, so I turn down a side street that’ll get me back to the entrance to the highway.

  A few blocks away, just as I’m slowing down for a stop sign, I notice a cute, brightly lit shop on the opposite corner, the storefront made up of plate glass windows framed by gingham curtains, with an old-fashioned hand painted sign overhanging the door. It’s cute, and looks like exactly the kind of fun date spot that Zoe would love. But when I look closer to read the sign—Sweet Little Thing, it’s called—I also see something else through the front window that makes my heart lurch into my throat.

  “Hey! You going to drive or what?” someone yells out behind me, honking their horn, and I cross the intersection and then pull over, outside the shop, still not sure of what I just saw.

  I look back through the window. I wasn’t wrong. It’s Zoe. There’s no doubt about it.

  She’s wearing the exact same outfit she had on at work today, a gray and white dress with zigzag stripes and a long black cardigan. She’s
not alone, either, and she sure as hell isn’t with a girlfriend. Zoe is locked in a tight embrace with another man, her chin tucked against his shoulder. Her eyes are closed and so are his, and when they move apart she murmurs something and I see him lean down and kiss her on the cheek.

  She lied to me, right to my face.

  I punch the steering wheel, furious at myself for getting in so deep with this woman—a liar, a cheater—trusting her implicitly, suspecting nothing, only to be made into a fool.

  I push my right foot hard against the gas pedal, speeding away toward home.

  22

  Zoe

  When I wake up the next morning, I dread going to work.

  I found a flower and a sweet note from Liam on my doorstep when I got home from seeing Jonathan, but I was too emotionally exhausted—and still felt too guilty—to call Liam like he asked in his note. And now I have to go into the office and try to act like nothing happened.

  I consider calling in sick, which wouldn’t be that hard to believe given that I’ve been pulling such long hours at work lately, but there’s too much I have to get done before the launch, and besides, if I stay home today, it’s not as if I’m going to want to go in tomorrow. Besides, I’m not a total coward. I know it’s better to face the music and get it over with.

  At the same time, I have no idea what I’m going to say when I see Liam. I could come clean, try to explain the situation with Jonathan, apologize for the fib and promise to be more straightforward in the future. I can’t imagine that would go well, though, seeing as how he stopped by my apartment last night and saw that all the lights were off and I still wasn’t home.