by Emerson Rose
I nod again and he releases my hands. I immediately miss the calming warmth they were providing. I wish he could just leave his hands here. I wish he would stay here, all of him. I don’t know if it’s the lack of oxygen to my brain or what, but I think I’m starting to crush on my doctor.
17
Fuck Space
Major
I have to restrain myself from blasting the little brat behind me with some serious drill instructor verbiage. If he kicks my seat one more time, I can’t be responsible for my actions. I thought taking a few days off would help my demeanor, but it’s aggravated it instead. How could I forget how much I hate flying? The closeness, the germs and smells mixing together, the recycled air and the disgusting miniature bathrooms . . . it gives me chills.
I’ve had enough. I place my hand on the back of my seat and turn around to look at the woman accompanying the little boy. Then I look directly into the eyes of the obnoxious little kicker.
“Stop. Kicking. My. Seat.”
The little shit gives me a defiant look, and I narrow my eyes and lift my lip in a silent growl. That’s all it takes. The kid sits back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. I glance at his mother, and she looks impressed. My work here is done. I turn around. The pocket on the back of the seat in front of me is stuffed with travel magazines and safety instruction cards. It’s a mess. I can’t help myself when I remove them all and organize them according to size and color. When they’re as close to perfect as they can be, I try to relax and look out the window until we land in San Diego.
After a long landing, I finally exit the airport and look for my car in the long-term parking lot. When I find it, I open the car door, slide in, and start the engine. I blast the air conditioning and lean my head back on the seat while I wait for the car to cool off. I’m in her town. Being in such close proximity to her is so tempting. I start having stalker thoughts about driving past her workplace and watching her come out of the building for lunch. I need to get a fucking grip. I sit up and exit the lot, fully intending to head toward Camp Pendleton.
But I don’t.
Twenty minutes later, I’m parked across the street from her office building doing exactly what I just told myself not to do. I give every woman who exits the building the once-over. I would probably know Violet if I saw her, but it’s been a while and I’m unsure of myself. Twice, I’ve had my hand on the door handle, ready to get out before I realized it wasn’t her.
I don’t know what I plan to say if I see her. Why the hell am I doing this again? Essentially, it’s because I’m a fucking selfish asshole who doesn’t care if I ruin her life as long as I get what I want. I’ve tried to stay away. Even if I hadn’t flown into San Diego today, it was just a matter of time before I came to her. She’s all I ever think about. Every day I’m away from her, I grow more pissed at myself for letting her go.
Sabrina was right. Fuck space. I shouldn’t deny myself this second chance. I need to take a leap off this jagged ledge of fear and talk to her. I have to know what made her run that morning three months ago. Was it something I did? Did I push her too far in bed with the rope? Did she realize how severe my OCD is and decide I wasn’t worth the trouble? There are probably a million reasons, but I never picked up any vibes of reservation. I was so surprised when her mother took their bags out of the back of my SUV that morning. I didn’t know how to make her stay. I didn’t know what to say. After driving a mile down the road, my head cleared and I realized she was better off without me. She still is.
This is ridiculous. She may not even leave for lunch, and I have a meeting I can’t miss this afternoon and a forty-five minute drive home. I’ll wait fifteen more minutes, no more.
It turns out I don’t have to wait any longer at all. When I look up, there she is, stepping out of the revolving door with a middle aged petite blonde. Time’s up. I get out of the car and move swiftly across the street, dodging traffic until I’m ten feet behind her on the sidewalk.
She’s got her mop of soft curls swept up in a ponytail that gently swings with her hips as she walks. The curve of her bare neck calls to me and my cock twitches. I’m jealous of her petite friend when they laugh and bump their hips together.
I want those hips to be mine. I want to dig my fingers into her flesh and press a kiss on the rise of each one. This woman has the power to mutate this hard ass Marine into a sloppy puddle of slush. She doesn’t have a clue the power she holds over me. I want to give her everything, take her everywhere, and learn everything there is to know about her. I have an uncontrollable urge to make her happy in any way possible. But first, I have to get her to sit down and talk to me.
I haven’t seen Violet dressed casually since the day we bumped into each other at Target. The events we attended that weekend were dress to impress occasions, but today, she’s a perfect combination of sexy and sweet, wearing a flowing lavender blouse with a pair of bright colored, wild patterned leggings. Her friend is dressed more conservatively in jeans and a short-sleeved cardigan and t-shirt, but I’ve heard Facebook fosters individuality and comfort as opposed to a more professional dress code. I can’t imagine going to work dressed that way.
There are a lot of people on the street today as I weave down the sidewalk trying to catch up with them. I’m walking directly behind Violet when her friend notices me. I smile and fall into step next to Violet. She turns to see who’s invading her space and stops short when I greet her. “Hello, Violet.”
Her skin pales, and for a moment, I worry that I may have to catch her when she passes out on the sidewalk. I step in front of her and introduce myself to her companion. “Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Major Steele, a friend of Violet’s,” I say, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand.
God, I’ve missed those dark brown almond eyes. They’re just as full of life and expression as I remember, but something is different today. I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but if I had to, I’d say they have more sparkle, more purpose.
“Major?” she whispers while her friend shakes my hand and introduces herself as Marie.
“It’s nice to meet you, Marie,” I say and turn my attention back to Violet.
“I’m sorry for showing up unexpectedly like this, but I was in town and I’d like to talk to you if you have some time. It doesn’t have to be now. I can wait until you’re off work.”
She wraps her arms around her waist and I watch as the color begins to return to her cheeks.
“Ah, yes, sure. Marie and I are going to a deli down the street. You can join us for lunch if you want.” her voice is strangled, as if every word is difficult to speak.
I take a chance and reach to remove one of her hands from her torso. She doesn’t pull away, and in fact, she comfortably laces her fingers with mine. Her warmth spreads through my body like syrup over hotcakes until it settles in my chest.
“I would like to talk to you privately, if that’s all right with you.”
All three of us are silent for a moment, but Marie returns to the here and now first with a jolt.
“Oh, Violet, go ahead. I’ll run down and get our lunch. I’ll take it back up to the office and we can eat when you get back.”
I like Marie. She’s accommodating.
Violet lowers her head and takes a deep breath. A knot forms in my stomach, and I deflate internally. She’s going to turn me down.
A car on the street honks and startles her, bringing her focus back to me.
“Can we meet later instead? I want to talk too, but I don’t want to be rushed.”
“Yes, of course. Do you want me to pick you up when you’re finished here?”
She doesn’t want to be rushed. That could be good or bad. She may want to take her time letting me down easy. Or she might want to spend some time getting reacquainted. I’m leaning toward the latter, as she still hasn’t let go of my hand.
She looks at Marie, who is eying our joined hands.
“What time do you think we will be done, Marie?”
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Marie snaps her eyes to Violet. “Oh, no later than six. You’re not allowed to stay any later than that anyway,” she says and quickly presses her lips together as if she’s accidentally told a secret.
“I’ll be here at eighteen-fifteen.” I squeeze her hand and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Her skin is so damn soft against my lips. The familiar scent of lavender fills my nostrils as I linger longer than I should. Before prying myself away from her, I whisper in her ear, “You look beautiful today, Violet.” She gently pulls away and releases my hand.
I nod at her friend. “Nice to meet you, Marie. I’ll see you later, Violet.”
Her eyes meet mine for a second before she nods. I look both ways before jogging across the street toward my car, and when I’m behind the wheel, I make a U-turn and drive slowly alongside them. I roll down my window, and they both look at me as if I’m cuckoo for driving down the wrong side of the street against traffic.
“I’ve missed you, Target girl.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she scolds with a smile on her full lips.
“I’ll see you at eighteen-fifteen.” I whip my SUV around into the correct lane just in time to miss an approaching car.
I glance in my rearview mirror and see Violet standing still on the sidewalk, clutching her chest. I didn’t mean to scare her, but I couldn’t drive away until she knew I’ve been missing her. For three long, torturous months, I’ve successfully avoided all contact with her. I’ve done every single thing possible to work her out of my system aside from having a one-night stand. Just the thought of touching another woman is repelling. If we can’t work this out, I could very well spend the rest of my life alone. There is no one else for me. Finding two great loves in one lifetime is simply too much luck for a man like me. It’s Violet or no one.
18
Major problems
Violet
I’m trembling like a leaf on a tree in a spring thunderstorm, and I look like one of those crazy chicks from a horror movie with wide, frightened eyes and freaked out hair. I think I’m going to throw up, and I can’t even blame it on my pregnancy.
I turn my palms outward and grip the vanity in the bathroom of Gerard’s Deli and step back, dropping my chin to my chest, looking down at the polished cement floor. Sometimes, if I take deep breaths, the nausea subsides, but not often. It seems to be working today, though. Breathe in . . . breathe out . . . I have to calm down and get back to Marie. She doesn’t like sitting alone in public.
I’ve been planning on driving down to see Major since I found out I was pregnant. I was hospitalized for a week with pneumonia, and I spent the following week recovering at home. When I finally got the guts up to make a move, I happened to speak to Kimber one afternoon and she told me that Major had gone on vacation. He wasn’t due back until sometime this week. I guess that’s today.
Now he’s here and he wants to talk to me. What the hell could he possibly have to say? He’s just touched down from his vacation, probably with his girlfriend, and he shows up outside my office asking to meet with me privately. What could he want?
It doesn’t matter. By the grace of God, he’s been conveniently dropped into my lap so that I can tell him he’s going to be a daddy. It’s time to stop hiding and tell him what’s going on so he can decide how much he wants to be involved in our baby’s life—if at all. I don’t know which will be worse, having him eager to be involved, knowing he’s with another woman, or the pain of rejection when he says he wants nothing to do with our child. I wipe the smudges of mascara from under my eyes and straighten my ponytail before going back to the table.
“Seriously, Violet, you are one lucky woman. I thought you were dating that hot doctor. How do you know Major Steele?
“I met him when I went down to Oceanside for a wedding a few months ago, when the earthquake hit, remember?”
“Yes, now I know where the epicenter of that thing was. The way he looked at you . . . he’s definitely smitten.
“And I’m not seeing Dr. Kumar. We just had lunch.” I don’t know why I felt I had to throw that information out there. I haven’t told anyone at work that I’m pregnant. They all think I’m still recovering from pneumonia, so nobody questions my woozy moments or quick escapes to the bathroom during meetings.
Dr. Kumar has been a perfect gentleman. He didn’t call to ask me out until I was discharged and technically no longer his patient. We went to lunch last week a couple of times, and he’s asked me to dinner, but I’m not interested in anything other than friendship. I’m not over Major. I don’t think I’ll ever be over Major, and now that he’s here, I see weeks and weeks of recovery time in my future. After seeing him for fewer than five minutes today, there’s not a molecule in my body that isn’t craving him. And it’s not just physical. I genuinely like him. We got along well, he was easy to talk to, and we had things in common. I saw the possibility of a future with him—until that phone call, that is. I shouldn’t put so much importance on one phone call, but the way he told that person he loved them pierced my skittish heart.
“It didn’t look like he was only interested in a friendly lunch. That doctor likes you, Violet. A lot.”
Shit, if a quiet, introverted Marie is picking up the vibe that Dr. Kumar has a thing for me, then he probably does. I continue to deny it because I’m mildly attracted to him too. It’s nothing close to what I feel for Major, but if I wanted more, Dr. Kumar would give it to me. He took care of me. He helped me through a tough time and made me feel special when I really needed it. Not to mention, he’s kind and generous and a total head turner.
Major ruined me. He hollowed out my heart and left it desolate. Dr. Kumar is as close to perfect as I’ll ever get, but I’ll never let him get close to me, and I don’t want perfect. I want Major.
“I’ve got a lot of things going on right now. I’m not looking to start a relationship, no matter how great the guy,” I say. What a lie.
“My grandmother always said that’s when the best ones come along. She always told me to relax and I’d find a man. Hardly.” She snorts. “I’m fifty-five years old, and I can’t even decide if I like men or women better. You’re crazy. You have two gorgeous guys interested in you, and you don’t want either of them. All the men my age are either married or divorced assholes. Oh, and don’t forget the ones who never married because they’re assholes. Consider yourself lucky.” She fusses with her napkin again, spreading it out on her lap.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Marie. You’re beautiful and smart and kind. Your grandma was right. I think you don’t put yourself out there enough. Go out with friends for drinks, go to parties or barbeques, whatever. Just surround yourself with good people. It’ll happen.” I reach out and touch her shoulder. It has to suck, being an introvert searching for love in your fifties. “Let’s eat lunch and stop worrying about men. Since when are they more important than a triple-decker turkey club with bacon anyway?”
“Since never,” she says, lifting one corner of her mouth in a mischievous smile. Marie’s cool. I’m going to help her find a man. All middle aged men can’t be married or assholes . . . can they?
I don’t know, but I have bigger problems to deal with today. Major ones.
19
Second Chances
Major
I don’t have time to drive all the way home for my meeting at sixteen thirty and back by eighteen hundred hours tonight. My meeting is very important—mandatory, in fact—but Violet is more important, so I cancel. I’ll catch hell tomorrow, but if I can find out what happened between Violet and me, it’ll be worth it. And if I don’t, well fuck it. At least I tried, and I got to see her one last time.
Now what the hell am I going to do for six hours? I could use a nap, but I don’t know any hotel owners in San Diego and I’m not staying in just any hotel. I have been a regular customer at the Campton Inn in Oceanside for years. They have one room that they keep clean to my standards on permanent hold. It’s expensive t
o continuously rent room 311, but when I was sleeping with a different woman every week, it was worth it. I should call and tell them to start renting it out, because I’m through with the brief trysts I used to have there. I’m not interested in anyone but Violet, and if she’s willing, I’ll be taking her home to my own bed.
There’s a mall coming up ahead. Maybe I’ll just pull into the parking lot and lay my seat back. It’s not the most comfortable place to nap, but at least I’m sure it’s clean. I park, and right before I lay my seat down, I see a sign advertising a gourmet cupcake store in the mall. Violet mentioned that she loves cupcakes during our one-morning stand. I get out of the car and go inside the shop. She may have told me she likes cupcakes, but she never designated what kind, so I choose six of their most popular ones and wander back out into the mall.
I don’t roam around in malls, but it’s early afternoon in the middle of the week and the place is virtually empty, making it less likely that someone will cough on me. I have hours to fill and nothing to fill them with, so I may as well.
I pass a toy store and a health food shop before stopping to window shop in front of a store that sells Cartier eyewear. Violet was squinting in the sun today. She may have sunglasses, but I want to do something nice for her. I go inside and ask the saleswoman to pick out her favorite pair. She has a similarly shaped face, and the pair she chooses is perfect for Violet.
I take the bag from Charlotte, the saleswoman and she brushes her hand against mine on purpose. She’s been flirting with me since I crossed the threshold of the store. I’m used to strangers being forward, but this woman is over the top. Doesn’t she realize she’s selling me women’s sunglasses? I wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped her business card in the bag with her personal number on it.