by E. Jamie
"Oh, lucky.” Sara giggled.
"Stick with me, kid,” Aaron said, winking at her.
They sat across from each other, and in just a few minutes, thanks to the crowd, Sara was warm enough to remove her thick maroon winter coat and hang it off the back of her chair. Victoria would have been horrified at the idea of an expensive coat trailing the floor of a diner. Sara could almost hear the derogatory tone in her head, and it gave her a secret little thrill.
"What are you smiling about?” Aaron asked her.
She rolled up the sleeves of her white blouse. “I like this place. It's loud and exciting. Nothing like the boring society brunches my mother used to drag me to.” She looked around at the other customers. “I bet not one woman here is thinking about penciling in her seaweed wrap session with Guru Kyoti."
Aaron laughed at that. “Connor always wanted to bring you here. He used to tell us you'd fit right in. I gotta say, we didn't quite believe him."
Sara cocked an eyebrow. “What? Just because I walked around in Louis Vuitton and Versace? I will have you know I can drink anyone of you under the table ... and if it wasn't nine o'clock in the morning, I would prove it to you."
A waitress, who Aaron introduced to Sara as Darcy, came over. She was a pretty little blonde thing who smiled at Aaron like she wanted to have him for breakfast.
"We missed you around here, handsome,” Darcy said with a wink. She kept her eyes on him while she set Sara's plate down in front of her.
For a moment, Sara was distracted from the uncomfortable tightening in her chest by the wonderful smell coming from her plate.
"What?” Aaron asked once Darcy walked away.
"Hmm?” Sara looked up.
"You're scowling. What?"
"No. No, I'm not. I'm just trying to figure out which side of this delicious looking thing to take a bite out of first.” She forced a smile.
He cocked an eyebrow and gave what looked like a much too smug smile. “You're not ... No, that's not possible. You're not jealous, are you?"
"Aaron, I already told you I don't think of you that way,” she explained, her cheeks warmed by more than the number of bodies in the small diner.
"'Cause, you know, I'd be totally okay with that,” he assured her.
Sara rolled her eyes. “I bet you would.” She sat straighter in her chair and studied him. “Is that why you brought me here? To make me jealous with that waitress? You told me you would wait, and I don't appreciate being manip—"
He shook his head. “Sara, I'm your friend, so please don't insult me by finishing the end of that sentence, okay?"
Sara blinked, embarrassed and stared down at her plate. “I'm sorry."
"All right,” he said. “Just so you know, I do fully intend to woo you, but I'm not gonna play any games with you. No manipulation, no beating around the bush."
She grinned at him, relieved that they could be at ease again. “You said ‘woo.’”
He gave a small chuckle. “Damn right, milady."
She took a deep breath and nudged him under the table with the toe of her brown leather boot. “Maybe I was a little jealous."
Aaron's eyes lit up but he cleared his throat and tried not to show his obvious joy over that. “No kidding? Well, that's something, huh?"
It was something. Just what, she wasn't quite sure of yet.
When they arrived back at the house, Sara kissed Aaron's cheek. “Thank you for breakfast. That had to be the most incredible sandwich I've ever eaten. We have to go back there again."
He rubbed his hand up and down her back over her coat. “Just name the day."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Six
Aaron asked her out on their first date a month later. Sara asked Maggie if she would come shopping with her to pick out a dress. “I almost asked Jessica to come along with us, but I didn't want that kind of pressure. Is that awful?” Sara asked after they walked into a boutique.
"What awful? Why wouldn't you want the mother of the man you're going out on a date with for the first time—who obviously wants the two of you to end up together—to go shopping with us?” Maggie asked, amused.
"Thanks, that means a lot. I just really want to take things slow, and I don't want Jessica to get upset or hate me in case I decide Aaron and I wouldn't work out."
"Relax. It's understandable, and I'm sure Jessica gets it, too."
"God, I hope so. That's why I'm so nervous about this. I love her, and I don't want to lose her friendship or Aaron's either,” Sara explained. It frightened her a little how much she had come to depend on him. She'd promised herself she would only stay with him until she got back on her feet, but weeks turned into months, and here she still was. Once the baby was born, it was easier for her to let Aaron convince her to stay with him and stay home than to put Nathan in daycare while she worked.
Maggie squeezed her shoulder and guided her toward one of racks.
They spent the next few minutes trying to find something that would fit Sara perfectly. She picked up a brown strapless gown with a loose, flirty skirt.
Maggie turned to look at her as if she were about to ask her something, but her eyes fell on the dress, and she gave a nod of approval before speaking. “This suit reminds me of those pictures you showed me."
Sara followed her gaze to a black tailored pantsuit. She walked up to it and ran her fingers over the material. “Yeah. I had an idea for something like this, but with the legs a bit more flared."
"Oh, are you a designer?” a woman asked behind them. The gold name tag affixed to her lapel identified her as an employee.
"Oh no,” Sara said, embarrassed, and Maggie gave her an encouraging but insistent look. “Well, I'm just starting to get a few designs together."
"Ah. Well, I bet you'd be interested in this.” The woman asked them to follow her to the counter, and she pulled open a drawer and took out a sheet of paper. “We just got these a few hours ago. I haven't had a chance to put them up yet. They're having a sort of open house for amateur designers at this studio. If you want to showcase some of your stuff, you should give them a call. You never know who might be there.” The woman smiled and handed Sara the flyer.
"Hmm,” Sara said, her heart racing too much for anything more eloquent.
"Thanks a lot,” Maggie said, nudging Sara to remind her of the dress in her hand.
"Would you like to try that on?” the woman, Carol, asked.
"Uh, yeah. Yes,” Sara said, trembling with excitement while she followed her.
Aaron was thrilled when she told him the news.
"Well, don't get so excited. I mean ... there's no way I can do this,” Sara said and bit her thumbnail.
"What do you mean there's no way?” Aaron asked, taking the dress, hidden by a zippered cover, and laying it on the white couch.
"I know I said I wanted to be a fashion designer, but I don't have any designs to display yet. All I've got are a couple of sketches."
Aaron looked at the flyer again. “It says here the showing is in two weeks. If you had help, how many outfits do you think you could get together by then?"
"What? Aaron, come on. Be serious,” she said with a nervous laugh.
"I think it's time you were serious, baby. You want to do this, right? Well, here's your opportunity to get your foot in the door. You know my mom would trip over herself to help you. She's already offered. So you just have to figure out how many outfits you think you could get done,” he said, cupping her face with his hands.
"Um, okay. Three. I think three would be good.” The words came out in an excited rush while she contemplated actually grabbing hold of this opportunity.
"Three. Great. I'll give my mom a call. I bet Maggie would love to help too. You have people around you who want nothing more than for you to be happy, sweetheart. Now I'm shit with a needle and thread, but I think I can make myself useful."
Sara gave a nervous but delighted squeal and threw her arms around him. “Thank you!
Thank you so much.” She showered his face with kisses but stopped and pulled back when she accidentally brushed his lips. “Oh. Sorry."
He stroked her cheek and pressed his mouth to her forehead. “Don't be."
* * * *
Sara stared at herself in the mirror. She ran her hands over the pink lace of her dress. She gave a guilty start when it occurred to her that she'd also worn a pink dress for her first date with Connor. Sara looked at the closet behind her and considered changing, but she gritted her teeth. No. Connor was gone, and she needed to move on. If she changed, it would be like admitting she had something to feel guilty about. No, she promised Aaron she would try to take this next step, and that meant leaving Connor in the past where he belonged. All she would allow herself now would be her memories, and her mind would always be filled with the sweetest memories of Connor, including the memory of their first date.
* * * *
She'd left the house, telling her mother she was meeting with some of her “friends,” girls Victoria approved of and Sara tolerated so she could have at least some freedom.
Her heart had pounded the whole time as she drove to Connor's apartment. He was a creative writing student at Middlesex and lived off campus, a fact Sara was very glad about. Not that anything would happen of course. Her fingers tightened around the wheel when the unsettling thought entered her mind. Did he expect something to happen?
Well, she'd definitely disabuse him of that notion. Sara swallowed the nervous lump in her throat when she spotted his apartment building. She was not like the other young women she knew who treated sex like a game. She even knew one girl back home in the States, Roxanna, who actually marked notches into the gold case of her lipstick for every man she'd been with. Even worse was Sara's own mother, who, she was well aware, was sleeping around on her father, not that Roger Hawthorne seemed to care about it in the least.
No. When she did that it would be on her wedding night after making a commitment to the man she'd love for the rest of her life.
Connor smiled at her when he opened the door, and Sara felt her knees tremble a little at how handsome he looked.
In her pink halter dress, she'd thought she might be overdressed for a visit to a guy's apartment, but she needn't have worried. Connor looked devastating in a white crisp shirt and dark trousers. The ends of his blond hair were damp. He must have recently showered, Sara thought, the mental image leaving her a little weak.
"Hi,” he said.
His voice hit her right between her legs, and for a second Sara doubted her conviction to wait to have sex. Roxanna would be on this guy like white on rice. Sara felt a jealous twinge at the thought and resolved to not introduce them to each other ... ever.
"Come on in,” he said, reaching to take her jacket.
It was a small apartment, but neat, and Sara was impressed that Connor had pretty good taste for a single guy on a limited budget. Not one bachelor beanbag chair in sight, she thought with a small giggle.
"What?” he asked.
"Nothing. I was just admiring your place. Not what I expected."
"What? You expected a mattress on the floor and a huge entertainment system?” he asked, amused.
Embarrased, she gave him a smile. “Maybe.” Her nose directed her attention to the kitchen next. “Oh my, something smells incredible."
He grinned, pleased, and extended his arm toward the kitchen for her to follow. It was small but clean and filled with the delicious scent of roasting tomatoes and chicken. “I got the recipe off a guy at work. I made it the other day just to make sure I wouldn't poison you. I don't think you'll be disappointed."
"And he cooks, too?” Sara remarked, impressed. He handed her a glass of white wine.
"Working in catering, you tend to pick up a thing or two."
"Hmm,” she said, sipping her wine. “Like me?"
He snorted. “I don't make a habit of it, no. But you were just too beautiful to resist."
Her stomach warmed. Whether from the wine or the compliment, she couldn't be sure.
"So is this what you wanna do? Cater? Be a chef?” Sara asked, sitting at the small round table on the other side of the couch, a tiny dining area with just two chairs next to the kitchen.
"Nope. This is just what's paying the bills and getting me through school."
"You're taking writing there, right? So is that it? You want to be a writer?"
His face lit up, and he nodded. “I always have. That's my dream, to tell a good story, to have people read my books and be touched somehow. Nothing too pretentious or world changing. I think people try too hard to say something ‘important.'” He emphasized the word with air quotes which made Sara smile. “There's a lot about life that sucks. I think happy people can change the world a lot more than navel-gazing whiners. I mean, have you ever heard of a chipper mass murderer?"
She burst out laughing, and the wine came shooting out of her mouth and spilled on her dress.
"Oops!” Connor said, covering his mouth, but she could see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “Oh shit, I'm sorry!” He got up and rushed into the kitchen to grab some paper towels.
"It's okay,” she assured him and felt a thrill at the knowledge that she didn't care at all. “It could have been worse. At least it wasn't red wine."
"Yeah, but, damn. I'm really sorry. I have a T-shirt and sweat pants you could wear, and there's a Laundromat downstairs, but I'm betting this is dry-clean only, huh?” He sounded truly contrite now.
She leaned over and took his face in her hands and kissed him lightly, feeling a burst of electricity and the feel of his lips against hers. She pulled away, her cheeks warm. “I'll take that T-shirt and sweatpants now."
She could smell his scent when she pulled the T-shirt over her head, and it made her heart speed up, imagining that this would be what he'd smell like when he pressed his body against hers.
They finished dinner on the couch, and Sara listened, enthralled with the passion with which Connor spoke of his dream. How she envied him.
"What about you?” Connor asked, startling her.
"Hmm?” she asked blankly.
"What do you want to do?"
She was so unfamiliar with the question that for a moment she looked at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. “Me?” No one had ever asked her what she wanted to do. Everything was just assumed and imposed upon her, no matter how much she chafed against it. She would marry well, have a third generation of socialite baubles and privileged boys who would grow into privileged gentlemen, and she would fulfill her duty of being a wife to some power player in the world of the rich.
"Yeah, I mean, now that we've established you're not marrying Sodomy,” he said with an amused smile.
"No. That's most definitely not going to happen. But I will probably find someone to marry, someone I love, mind you. I won't compromise on that."
"Someone your family approves of."
"That would make things easier,” she said with a pang in her chest at the knowledge that was most certainly not Connor.
"Well, you're telling me more what you're expected to do. What do you want to do?” He reached over and stroked her cheek. “What do you dream of?"
"Oh,” she bit her lip, embarrassed. “It's stupid. I mean, there's no way I could ever—"
He cut her off with a pointed look and urged her to tell him.
"Uh, fashion, maybe. Something in fashion."
"Like a designer?"
"Yeah. Like I said, it's stupid.” She shrugged.
"Why is that stupid? That's a fantastic dream. I'm not much of a fashion ... er, what's the word, monger?"
Sara laughed, and he went on.
"But it seems like a pretty exciting life. Nothing like what I picture happening if you hook up with Sodomy. And you seem like just the girl to make it happen. You want something, you go after it. I know you have that fire in you.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, and Sara had the most ridiculous urge to cry over the compliment.
He nodded, and she brushed her lips across his. A jolt of electricity went through her, and she wanted more. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and deepened the kiss.
Connor groaned in approval, and his hands moved under the T-shirt she wore and touched her skin.
Sara moaned at his touch, and then she was falling and bringing him with her to lie on the couch. Her senses spun when his hand moved up to cup her breast while his tongue moved with hers. She was shocked by her body's response to him. She felt warm and wet between her legs, and she could feel the press of Connor's erection through his pants.
A prick of fear made her seize up and pull her mouth away from his. “Wait. Wait,” she pleaded, breathless. “I can't do this."
Connor closed his eyes as if trying to gather his composure and lifted himself off of her. “It's okay."
"Yeah?” She asked, pressing a hand to her racing heart. She sat up.
"Sure. There's no rush. I just kind of ... lost it for a sec, I guess,” he said with a laugh.
"It's just...” Sara swallowed while she tried to explain. “I want to wait until I get married, that's all.” She knew with a frightening, sudden clarity she would never want to marry anyone but this man.
* * * *
Pulling herself from the past, Sara walked into Nathan's nursery and kissed his cheek while he slept, assuring herself silently that she couldn't have picked a better man to contemplate a new future with than Aaron. Hearing the doorbell signaling Jessica's arrival to watch Nathan for the evening, Sara walked out of the nursery and down the stairs to see Aaron holding a bouquet of daisies.
"I thought I'd mix it up a bit, and I know you like daisies so—” He shrugged and handed them to her.
She greeted Jessica and thanked her for offering to watch her son.
"Oh honey, it's my pleasure.” The older woman beamed at her.
Sara had no doubt about that and felt a prick of unease, knowing how badly Jessica wanted her to begin a romantic relationship with her son.
Sara waited until they were outside by the car before she leaned over and kissed Aaron. “I love the flowers. Thank you. They're beautiful."