"Then what did that taxi driver see that made him--"
I threw up my hands. "That's it. I'm tired and I'm not putting up with this crap any more. I did nothing wrong. I'm going to bed. You will sleep out here."
I grabbed Harrison and went into the bedroom before Alex could answer, locking the door behind me. Even with my exhaustion and Harrison's comforting purr and then his snore, though, I couldn't sleep.
For all his hypocritical annoyingness, Alex had a point. Though we weren't acting on it, Loren and I had a connection that went deeper than friends and coworkers.
Did Alex and I still have that connection?
Did I even want us to have it?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Alex and I didn't acknowledge our fight the next morning; we just had breakfast together while watching a movie and slid right back into our routine. Since I spent most of my time at the four musical theater performances that weekend we didn't really have much opportunity to talk. Not much opportunity and even less inclination, since the few times we did speak we immediately found ourselves bickering about my job or Harrison's fur on the floor or something even more stupid. Even if I'd had time for a deep discussion with him, I wouldn't have wanted one.
I hated the whole thing, and hated how my stomach's knots seemed tied tighter than ever, but I couldn't see a way out. And I hated that too.
My mood brightened on Monday, though, thanks to Wendy. She and I went for that coffee, and after a brief awkwardness slid right back into being friends, although neither of us mentioned Alex. That same day, we worked through lunch so we could leave the office early and go shopping before my knit and crochet night. We became even more relaxed with each other as we cruised the mall, laughing and joking and sighing together over amazing things we couldn't afford. Gorgeous earrings for her at a great price turned up at the first store we tried, but we weren't able to find anything for me until the last store.
When we'd passed that store on the way in, a brown skirt in the window caught my eye because it was so much like the dress I saw on my first post-Alex shopping trip, the one I convinced myself wasn't right for me because it was brown. I didn't think this one was right either, since I was loving my new brighter wardrobe, so I didn't tell Wendy I wanted to try it on, but as we browsed the rest of the stores I kept thinking about the skirt and its matching top, and I couldn't get them out of my head. Them, and the dress that had been so pretty.
We went into the store at last but I still hesitated. I was supposed to be brightening up my life, not adding more neutral brown. Wendy went straight for the jewelry display, naturally, and I loitered around the rack of skirts trying to decide what to do. I didn't want to add anything boring to my life. I needed color.
But I couldn't stop looking at the skirt. It just seemed so perfect to me. Soft and flowing, with velvet and sheer fabric alternating, it looked like it would feel amazing against my legs.
I stood indecisively in front of the skirts for another moment then reached out and grabbed my size. I had to see myself in it. I didn't want to regret not trying it like I did with the dress.
Once I'd found the matching top, I told Wendy I was going to try them on and found an open fitting room. With my back to the mirror, I pulled off my blue sweater and purple skirt and replaced them with the new clothes. The top's soft fabric clung to me but didn't feel restricting, and I'd been right: the skirt dancing against my legs as I twisted from side to side made me feel happy.
I turned to face the mirror, then stared. I'd never thought a gathered skirt like that would work on me, but I'd been so wrong. It fit like it had been designed for me. If I hadn't tried it, I never would have known it would work.
"How's it going in there?" Wendy called, and I opened the door and stepped out.
Her eyes widened. "You're buying them, right? You look incredible. It's like they made the whole outfit just for you. I love it."
I swished my hips and we watched the skirt move. "I love it too. But..."
"But what?" She grimaced. "Too expensive?"
"Actually, they're on sale."
"Then what?"
I nearly said, "I have too much brown," but as I looked at myself in the mirror I knew I didn't need to. I did like brown. I liked lots of other colors too, and I liked brown. The skirt and top were gorgeous. They were perfect on me. I felt terrific wearing them. What else needed to be said?
Only one thing. "I'm buying them."
Wendy clapped her hands. "Good for you. Ooh, you know what they need? Brown suede boots."
I studied myself in the mirror. "Really?"
"Definitely. Sleek ones, with a heel. Let's go find them!"
I laughed at her enthusiasm, giddy myself. Why had I nearly turned down a perfect outfit just because it was brown? It made no sense, and I was thrilled with myself for recognizing that, for not refusing something amazing because it wasn't exactly what I'd thought I wanted. "Okay, let's. But I have trouble with boots. They never fit quite right."
"We'll find ones that do," she said confidently.
After I got dressed again and bought the skirt and top, we went looking for boots but unfortunately had no success. She promised to keep shopping with me until we did, but on the way home I remembered the 'shoe guy' I'd met the night I'd been chatting with everyone I ran into. I checked his site and found a pair of boots that seemed great so sent an email to see if he'd been serious about his offer of free shoes. With any luck, my perfect boots were waiting for me in his warehouse.
Tuesday night would usually have been a musical theater rehearsal, but since we were on a month-long hiatus before beginning the next show Alex and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. At least, he was; I was crocheting and ignoring the millionth episode of CSI we'd seen together in favor of thinking about the knit night. Most of the knitters had accepted my lack of interest in trying their craft, but two just wouldn't give up pushing me to try, even hinting I was a coward for refusing. I'd eventually nearly snapped at them, stopping myself only because Ellen stepped in and told the group, "In my store people can do whatever craft they want. As long as it uses lots of yarn."
The resulting giggles had defused the tension and made the women leave me alone, but I was still annoyed by their behavior. I didn't want anyone pushing me around and telling me what to do.
I held back a grimace. No, I didn't want that at knit night, because I got more than enough of that from my constantly displeased boyfriend. As that thought hit me, my cell phone rang. I glanced at it and didn't recognize the number, but I was bored and needed a distraction from my thoughts so I answered anyhow.
"Andrea?"
"That's me. Who's this?"
He cleared his throat. "Mark. Do you remember me?"
The name triggered something but I couldn't bring it up. "I think so. Remind me."
"The speed dating thing?"
Right. The cute sweet man who'd felt more like my brother than a potential boyfriend. When he'd emailed me I'd given him my cell number since I didn't like using work email for personal stuff. Good thing too, since I no longer had that work email address. "Of course, I remember you now. How are you?"
Alex sat up straighter on the couch, then turned off the TV.
I shot him an annoyed look and walked away into the bedroom as Mark said, "I'm great, thanks. You?" I didn't close the door behind me, though; I'd be damned if I'd cower in the bedroom whispering in my own home.
I settled onto the edge of the bed. "Pretty good. Finished with your travel for a while?"
He chuckled. "You remembered. Yup, I'm in Toronto for at least a month or two now. I was hoping you'd have dinner with me."
I hesitated. Bringing another man into the mix couldn't be a good idea.
A frowning Alex appeared in the bedroom doorway and stood watching me.
I cleared my throat. "You remember what we talked about before, right?"
Mark chuckled again. "You're still not interested. I get it. But look, I'd like to see if we cou
ld be friends. I'm not going to be some crazy stalker or something. If you say no, this'll be the end. But I hope you say yes."
Hearing him talk was bringing him back more clearly to my mind. He'd been funny and sweet, and I knew what I wanted to do. "Yes. Where?"
We arranged to meet the next night after my crochet group, while I sat under Alex's glare, then I hung up and said, "I'm meeting a friend for dinner tomorrow."
"I heard. Who is she?"
His tone said he knew 'she' was a he, and I shook my head. "Is it always going to be like this? You not trusting me even though I didn't do anything?"
He dropped onto the bed next to me, then rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I went out with Kelly for a friendly dinner. That's how everything got started."
"Nothing's going to get started here."
He put his arm around me. "I do trust you. I just know how this could go wrong."
I took a breath to speak but he got there first and said what I'd been thinking. "I know, I was the one who cheated. I know that." He squeezed me tighter. "And I hate it. I wish I could take it back. I love you, and I want this to work."
The emotion in his voice touched me, and I moved closer and put my head on his shoulder. "It can't if you don't trust me."
He lowered onto his back, pulling me with him, and we stayed cuddled up together in silence for a long time.
Did he trust me? Did I trust him? Did I even want this to work? Snuggled in his arms, I felt like maybe I did, but maybe that was just me sinking deeper back into the old rut.
*****
"Nice to see you again, Andrea."
"You too." I sat in the chair Mark had pulled out for me, and he returned to his own. Not even Loren treated me with this kind of 'old-world' respect, though he was perfectly attentive and caring even when we were trying to keep our distance from each other, but somehow such a level of courtliness wouldn't suit Loren's personality. It seemed to suit Mark's, though, and I liked it. "How was your trip?"
"Pretty good. Signed up a few new clients."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a book promoter."
"One of my dad's friends has lots of novels published, but I've never heard him mention his book promoter. Is this a new thing?"
He nodded. "I find non-fiction books that should have a bigger market than they have, and I talk to the author about how I can help get the word out."
"For a share of the money, I assume?"
"Yup. But let's not talk business, okay? I want to know what you've been up to since I met you."
I took a breath to speak, although I had no idea where to start, but he added, "I'm really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight. I enjoyed meeting you."
"I enjoyed it too. You were by far the best one I met that night."
He smiled. "I'd feel more complimented if I hadn't seen my competition. There was one guy, who I hope you didn't have to meet, who kept talking about his need for a... well, let's say a very well-endowed woman. He was deeply annoying. And bald."
I burst out laughing. "And bug-eyed?" I said through my laughter.
Mark laughed too. "You met him?"
I gave him the story of my meeting with that jerk and how I'd made him leave, and Mark said, "See, I knew right away that you were smart and funny. And you're adorable. He's an idiot."
"Aw, thanks."
"No thanks required. I speak only the truth." He smiled at me. "If I recall, when I left you that night I said you'd be married by now. So?"
I shook my head.
"But you're with someone?"
The urge to sigh was overwhelming, but I held myself together and said, "Yes. I actually went back to my old boyfriend."
He sipped his wine, studying my face. When he'd set the glass down, he said, "And how do you feel about that?"
I smiled. "Are you going to ask me about my mother next?"
"Sorry, that did sound a bit psycho-babble, didn't it? But the question stands. Are you happy, Andrea?"
To my horror, my eyes filled with tears. I blinked hard and looked away.
He took my hand, his touch warm and comforting, and I returned my gaze to him to see him giving me a gentle smile. "Listen. You have no chemistry with me, right?"
My blink this time was from confusion. How had he known, and why was he asking?
"It's okay. I sell things for a living, I'm pretty good at knowing when I'm not connected to a prospect. My point is, we're only going to be friends. So let's be friends, and maybe I can help you deal with your relationship."
I looked into his sweet blue eyes and felt an enormous weight lifting from my shoulders. I had nobody to talk to about everything I was feeling. Wendy? Hardly. Loren? Not exactly an uninvolved party. Alex? The same. But Mark seemed to want to listen, and suddenly I so wanted to talk. "There's another guy."
He nodded, and gave my hand a squeeze.
I squeezed his in return, and as we ate a leisurely dinner I told him how and why Alex and I had split, how I'd changed my life, how I'd connected to Loren, and finally how I'd taken Alex back but was still yearning for Loren.
"You're not happy with Alex, right?"
I had to agree. We had occasional good moments but they were like tiny diamonds buried in Harrison's litter box. Very little good, so much that stank.
"Then maybe you're meant to be with this Loren. I'll refrain from calling him a lucky bastard but you can assume I did."
I smiled at him. "Do any of the books you work with cover how to fall for a guy when you'd really like to but just don't feel that way about him? Because I want to read that one and then fall for you."
He gave me a fake grimace. "I turned down one like that just last week. Damn it." We both smiled, and he added, "Besides, you've got your hands full as it is. So, I guess you're going to leave Alex for Loren?"
I sighed. "It sounds like I should, right? But there's something not right about that too."
He tipped his head to one side. "You like him, he's a good guy, you've mercifully spared me the details but it's pretty obvious you're attracted to him... what could be not right?"
"I'm not sure." I tried to articulate everything I was feeling. "I guess I just feel like I'm supposed to be on my own for a while. But I can't expect Loren to still be there when I'm ready. I've heard it takes half the time you were with someone to truly be over him. What if it takes me the whole seven years?"
He nodded slowly. "Seven years. You're pretty amazing, but there's no guarantee Loren will wait that long."
The thought of Loren with someone else gave me an awful pang in my stomach. "I know. But if I'm not ready..." I sighed again. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I am ready and it's just that I can't break up with Alex. I wanted him back so much, and now I have him and..." I shrugged.
"When you were single, did you go after a relationship with Loren?"
I felt my cheeks warm but had to admit, "We kissed a few times on one day."
To his credit, he didn't call Loren a lucky bastard again. Instead, he said, "And after that?"
"We were friendly at work but neither of us did anything about taking things further. If anything, we tried to hold back."
He nodded. "Then I don't think you are ready. And neither is he. If you were both single and you didn't go for it, then this isn't the right time for you."
I sat for a while, digesting this. He waited quietly. Eventually I said, "But I do like him. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"Sure." His eyes were soft. "But it might not be enough."
I drummed my fingers on the table. I wanted it to be enough. I wanted to be ready to be with Loren. I'd wanted that since the first spark between us. But I felt awfully sure that Mark was right. I didn't want him to be, and I was still fighting not to believe it, but something deep inside was resonating with his words.
He took my hand, silencing my fingers. "If you're meant to be with Loren, it'll work out. You have to trust your gut. Your body knows, if you'll listen. Don't make any rash decisions, okay? Just listen
and see what feels right, and then do that."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I listened to my gut all the way home, thinking about all the possibilities and seeing how they made my insides feel, what made my stomach twist or relax, then broke up with Alex that night. Mark had warned me not to be rash but this didn't feel rash. It felt... inevitable.
Unfortunately, Alex didn't see it that way. "You didn't try. We haven't even been back together for two months yet and you're already giving up? Running to Loren, I assume."
"Leave him out of this. I'm not running to anyone. I'm--" We stared at each other, then I made myself say it. "I'm running away from you. We're wrong for each other."
He was already shaking his head even before I finished. "That's not true. We just need time to get used to each other again."
"Oh, Alex, come on. We fight constantly now, and when we're not fighting we've got nothing to say to each other. We've both changed while we were apart, and we don't fit together any more."
He sat as if digesting this, and I was about to put my hand on his shoulder and say something about how sorry I was that we hadn't been able to make it work when he said, "We could have. If you weren't so busy with Loren and that damned show and all the rest of the things you've been doing instead of being with me. You shut me out. You haven't even let me have sex with you. How could we get back together like that?"
A flash of outrage lit me up then fizzled. That he could throw my inability to sleep with him in my face was even more proof, as if I needed any more, that the Alex I'd loved was lost to me forever. Whether I'd changed or he'd changed or we both had didn't matter, and there was no point in talking it out. "You need to go."
He shook his head. "You need to tell me how you could possibly think you gave us a fair chance."
All the things I could say popped into my mind at once, dizzying me. Pointing out that his cheating could hardly be called 'giving us a fair chance'. Questioning where he got off trying to make everything my fault. Explaining that I'd hardly want to sleep with someone I couldn't even talk to. But one thing moved to the forefront and I said it. "No, I don't. You need to go."
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