by Tamie Dearen
“The important thing is she knows she’s the last—the very last.”
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth? That she was the only one? She’d feel a lot more secure.”
His stomach churned. “It’s too late to tell her that now. I don’t even think she’d believe it.”
“Well, well, well! Are you such a hot kisser she couldn’t possibly believe she was your first?” Her voice rose in laughter.
“Maybe I am. It’s not funny.”
“Oh, yeah—it’s funny. But you’re getting yourself in big trouble because of your ego, brother. You better swallow it, and tell her the truth. If you’re not careful, you’re going to have a great big beautiful ring and no one to give it to.”
“Shut it. Okay? You haven’t told me yet if you’ll back up my story.”
When she smiled at him, he could have sworn she’d sprouted red horns and a forked tail. “Of course I’ll help you, dear brother. We’ll discuss your payment at a later time.”
Emily marched in the Marshall’s front door with a plan. Saturday, after she’d admitted to herself she was in love with Spencer and decided to end the kissing hiatus, he’d missed several obvious kissing opportunities. Either he was finally going along with her earlier no-kissing plan, or he’d lost interest. So tonight, she was going to get him alone and figure out what was going on. She wanted to tell him how she felt about him, stopping just short of saying she loved him. But she wasn’t going to say anything at all until she was positive he was still attracted to her. If Grace was right and he really did love her, then surely he would let her know.
She’d even stepped up her game in an effort to make herself a bit more difficult to resist. She had on a cute short skirt with some heels that made her long legs look even longer. Her top was tight enough to accentuate her slender figure although it wasn’t extremely low cut. Why bother with a plunging neckline when she didn’t have any cleavage to show off? She couldn’t compete with Betty Boobs. She’d even added a touch of mascara and some flavored lip-gloss. So her eyes looked enormous and her lips looked... Well, she hoped they looked irresistible.
She was disappointed when Grace met her at the door. She’d hoped Spencer might answer the door alone, and she might be able to use her allure to steal a quick kiss before dinner even started. Since she decided kissing was no longer against the rules, it was almost killing her not to do it.
“Hi, Emily.” Grace grabbed her arm, pulling her into the apartment. She gave her a speedy once-over. “You look great. Perfect, in fact. Absolutely perfect. Let’s go show you to Spencer.”
Before she could think to protest, Grace dragged her into the kitchen.
“Look, Spencer. Emily’s here,” announced Grace, pushing her toward him.
He turned around from the stove where he was sautéing onions and bell peppers. She was pleased to note his eyes widening as he surveyed her legs. “Hi, uhmm... Hi.”
“Good job, Cyrano.” Grace poured on the sarcasm. “I can see why you’re still waiting for the right time.” He glared at her as she departed the kitchen, her laughter trailing behind her.
“The right time for what?” Emily asked when she left them alone.
“Uhmm, she’s just being Grace. Giving me a hard time as usual. You... You look fantastic tonight. I mean, not that you don’t always look great. But tonight you look even more great.” His voice trailed off to a mumble at the end, his cheeks reddening.
“Your veggies are burning, I think.”
He whipped around. “Shoot! Oh, man! I guess they’ll be okay. Not all of them are burned.” He scraped the onions and peppers where they were blackened and adhering to the bottom of the pan.
“I’ll eat the burnt ones—I like them with a little char. Sorry I distracted you. Can I help?”
“Sure. Can you stir the beans while I get the fajita meat sliced? And then can you get out the sour cream and pico de gallo and serving spoons.”
“This is so great. Mexican food makes me feel like I’m home in Texas.”
“Do you miss it a lot?” His brows furrowed.
“Yes. I love Mexican food,” she teased.
“Yes, but do you miss Texas a lot?”
“I miss the grass and the trees and the wide open spaces. And strangely enough, I miss driving. I used to get a lot of thinking done while I was driving. Commuting on the subway somehow doesn’t lend itself to deep contemplation.”
“Solving the world’s problems?”
“Yes, and listening to TED talks.”
“What about the weather?”
“Well, the summers are much nicer here. We had temps in the upper nineties and over a hundred for most of June, July and August. But, we only had a bit of snow. I’m afraid I’m going to be in for a shock when winter gets here.”
“We need to get you some good warm clothes. I’ll take you shopping in the fall.”
“I hate shopping.”
“How could I forget? But somebody has to take care of you.”
Emily warmed inside. That didn’t sound like a guy who was ready to move on to another girl. Maybe he loved her after all. Maybe tonight he’d tell her so. If he said the words, she was ready to say them back.
Abruptly the kitchen door opened and they were inundated with Spencer’s sisters, complete with talking, yelling, and laughter. Marshall family dinner had begun.
Spencer was so distracted he could hardly eat. Why had she worn that outfit to the family dinner? She looked good—too good. He had a hard enough time controlling himself around her, without seeing those amazing legs in that short skirt. And when she sat down next to him, he noticed that it inched up a little further. She caught him checking her out and smiled. That’s when he realized the truth. She was teasing him, on purpose. First she’d told him they couldn’t kiss, and then she’d worn this super short skirt, simply to test him. Well, two could play at that game.
He returned her smile. And on pretense of adjusting his napkin, he slipped his left hand under the shield of the tablecloth to rest on the soft smooth skin of her thigh. His fingers traced tiny circles on her skin with the lightest of touches. He was pleased to see her struggling to keep her eyes open, breathing shallowly. She clamped her hand over his to hold his fingers still. He maintained a neutral expression, forking a bite of black beans into his mouth. She pushed his hand away, attempting to cross her legs, but bumped her knee on the table.
“Ow!” she cried.
“What did you do to her?” asked Grace.
“It wasn’t him. I tried to cross my legs, but these heels make my legs too tall to cross them under the table.”
“I love your shoes,” said Olivia. “Actually, I love the whole outfit.”
“Don’t we wear the same size shoes and skirt? You could borrow them any time.”
“No!” He must have spoken a bit too loudly, because his entire family was staring at him. “I don’t... I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Grace grinned, “He means he doesn’t want his sister looking that hot. Right, Spencer?”
“She’s too young,” he objected.
“Give me a break, Spencer. I’m twenty-one.” Olivia turned back to Emily. “I’ve got a super cute skirt and shoes that match. We can trade sometime.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Hannah.
“Hannah likes to steal my clothes,” explained Olivia.
“Not steal—borrow.”
“Except, I have to go digging through your drawers and closet to get my things back.”
“Claire’s worse than I am,” defended Hannah.
Grace told Emily, “At least I’m safe from the marauders.”
“That’s not really true,” said Olivia. “Since her clothes don’t fit, we all steal her jewelry.”
Spencer was relieved the attention had been drawn away from him. He eased his hand back onto Emily’s leg and resumed his ministrations to her soft skin. When she failed in her attempts to remove his hand, she stood up swiftly, forcing him to w
ithdraw.
“I’ll get dessert.” Emily ripped him to shreds with her eyes. His gaze followed her all the way to the counter and back. When she bent over to throw away her napkin, he almost choked. He quickly grabbed his water and gulped it down
“Grace, don’t you have papers to grade?” he asked.
“Oh, no. I got it all done Friday night, when I was here at the house. Don’t you remember, Spencer?”
He glared at Grace, trying to imagine his revenge. But she held all the cards right now, and she knew it.
He kept his hands to himself during dessert, rehearsing his speech in his mind. If only he knew for sure Emily felt the same way about him, it wouldn’t be so intimidating.
When the family had attacked and eliminated all traces of the Ginger Crinkle cookies Emily had brought, Spencer began to clear the table.
Grace grabbed the plates from his fingers. “We’ll get the dishes. Why don’t you and Emily go sit on the porch so you can talk?” She ushered them outside and the door clicked shut behind them. Spencer resisted the urge to check to see if she’d locked it as well.
“It seems they don’t want us inside. Shall we sit?” He eased onto the glider and patted the space beside him.
Emily sat down cautiously, tugging her skirt to cover as much of her legs as possible.
“I really like this skirt.” As Spencer moved his hand toward her exposed thigh, she locked fingers with him. He chuckled. “Oh, so it’s look but don’t touch? That’s fine, I’ll be good… for now.”
“I’m beginning to wish I’d worn something that covered a bit more.”
“Seriously, I’ll behave.” He opened his mouth to speak, choked, coughed, and cleared his throat a few times. “I... uhmm... How’s your mom?”
“She’s fine, I guess. I haven’t actually talked to her this weekend.”
“Oh.”
Emily squirmed a bit in the uncomfortable silence. How could she start the awkward conversation about their feelings? Maybe with a question. “So, how long do you think we’ll date?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“I wanted to talk about that, too.” Spencer smiled, squeezing her hand. I mean, I was thinking maybe a year. Maybe less. Even a year seems like a really long time to me. But, I thought, since I graduate in December. Then I’d get a job and save some money. But, you know, I might not even get a job here. It’s all sort of complicated.”
Her heart turned upside down. He was planning to give her a year, and even that seemed like a long time to him. She should be glad. That was probably longer than he’d dated any other girls. But somehow, talking about how it would be over after he graduated and got a job, made the end seem so certain. So, Grace was wrong after all. He didn’t love her. And she’d done exactly what she’d tried not to do. She’d fallen in love with a guy who didn’t love her back.
She struggled to stop the flood of tears. She shouldn’t be crying—she was going to ruin the time they had left. Hadn’t she decided she was going to enjoy him while she could? And who knew—maybe if they dated for that long, he might fall in love with her, too. Or maybe he was in love with her, but didn’t realize it.
His eyes were huge. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “A year... I guess a year is good. I was actually hoping for longer.”
He turned to her and picked up both of her hands in his, tenderly lifting them to his lips. “It can be two years if you want. I’m willing to wait.”
That’s right. She’d forgotten he’d be going without having sex for as long as they dated. No wonder he only wanted to date for a year. She took a long shuddering breath. It was too late now—she’d lost her heart to him. So if he offered her a year, she’d take it. And when it was over, if he hadn’t fallen in love with her, she’d pick up the pieces of her heart and move on.
He reached with one hand and brushed a tear off her face. “I know you think I’m a big player, but that’s more reputation than truth. I’d never cheat on you. You believe me. Right?”
“Even if...” She hesitated. She had to get this question off her chest. “Even if it means no sex the whole time we’re dating?”
“I’m not dating you for sex. I know you don’t believe in sex before marriage. That’s fine with me. But...”
“But what?”
“But, I’m hoping you’ll let up on the no-kissing thing now that we’ve talked.”
“Actually, I decided to change that policy yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” he groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I thought you’d guess somehow. You kissed me on Monday, before I lifted the hiatus.”
“I think maybe we need to work on our communication skills.” He shook his head.
“Well, at least we talked tonight.”
“Yes,” he smiled. “Yes, we certainly did.” His hand moved under her chin and tilted her face up to his. Then he leaned toward her and bent down to touch his lips lightly against hers. He kissed her upper lip and then her lower lip, sucking it gently into his mouth. “You taste so good.”
“It’s Ginger Crinkles,” she said.
“No, it’s you. You taste good. You smell good. I love everything about you.” He returned his mouth to hers, gently kissing her lips. She felt an ache in her heart. He’d almost said he loved her—almost, but not quite. Then her mind became a blur as he deepened their kiss, tasting the inside of her mouth with his tongue, sending electricity down her spine. He played with her tongue and enticed it into his own mouth. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and feel the thud in her chest. Abruptly, he broke the kiss and pulled away.
“I don’t know if I can make it a year,” he teased. “I’d really like to do a lot more than kiss you.”
Her face must have looked as stricken as she felt at his words, because he quickly backtracked. “I’m just kidding. I can wait. Please don’t cry.”
He bent down to kiss her again. His lips caressed hers gently. “Emily...” he moaned and then he was kissing her forcefully, bruising her lips with his passion. “Emily, I...” he breathed the words across her lips.
The door cracked as Claire flung it open, and they sprung apart, sporting guilty expressions. “We’re gonna play charades,” she announced. “Come on.”
Spencer rubbed his elbow where he’d slammed it against the arm of the glider. “I guess our talking time just ended.” Then he whispered in her ear, “But I enjoyed it while it lasted.”
*****
Anne watched Emily pushing her food around on her plate. She and Steven had decided to keep their news a secret from the general population for a while. But they’d agreed to tell the family members when the time seemed right. Anne had thought tonight might be a good time to tell Emily, so they’d invited her up for dinner. It was Wednesday, and they hadn’t had a chance to chat since the previous week. But now, watching her distracted movements, she knew they needed to talk about other things instead. There was something wrong, and it was probably an affair of the heart.
“So, how’re things with Spencer?” she probed.
“Fine. They’re fine.”
“You’ve been going out a lot lately, right?”
“Well, we had been until recently. But he’s been busy every night this week.” Her voice whined even as she attempted to appear nonchalant.
“What’s he busy doing?”
“How should I know? He doesn’t tell me,” she snapped.
“Sorry. I just wondered.”
“Can’t you ask him what he’s doing?” asked Steven.
“Oh. He always has an excuse. Tonight, he’s volunteering at a homeless shelter. But when I offered to go with him, he didn’t think it was a good idea.”
Steven frowned. “Well, it might not be safe for you. He’s pretty protective.”
“No. He’s lying to me. I know he is.”
“Are you sure?” asked Anne. “That doesn’t sound like Spencer.”
“I didn’t think so either, but I think he’s changed.”
Steven couched his words in a stern tone. “I don’t like this at all. If he’s lying to you, you should definitely break up with him. You deserve better. Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No, I’m in love with him—at least, I think I am. Why else would I feel this miserable?” Her lower lip trembled.
Now Steven started laughing. “As best I can recall, you’re probably right. It made me pretty miserable at first. And that probably also means you’re jumping to all kinds of wrong conclusions.”
“He’s right, Honey,” said Anne. “You two probably need to talk. I’m sure he’s in love with you. He sure looked it when you were in the hospital.”
“But we talked, and he didn’t say he was in love with me.”
“He said he wasn’t in love with you?”
“No, but he said he didn’t want to date any more after he graduated and got a job. Because he might not even get a job in New York and he might have to move.”
“That doesn’t make any sense to me,” said Anne.
“It does to me. He doesn’t want to commit because the future’s uncertain. And I respect that. I guess there’s always a chance he might decide he loves me before then. But now... Now I think he’s getting tired of me. He’s avoiding me a lot. Why else would he lie to me?”
“How do you know he’s lying?”
“I just feel it.”
Anne shook her head. “I know you think this is trite, but you can’t depend on your feelings. Especially when you’re highly emotional. You’ll get all kinds of misinformation sent to your brain.”
“Let me talk to him,” suggested Steven. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting information out of people. I’ll find out what he’s up to.”
“No, because if he’s going to hurt my feelings, you’ll probably kill him.”
“No, I wouldn’t—”
“Yes,” said Anne. “You probably would. I’ll talk to him.”
“No, neither of you are going to talk to him. I’ll handle it myself. Let’s change the subject.” She turned her attention to her mom. “How are you feeling?”