“We won’t always be at my parents’ house, but doors aren’t such a bad thing, are they?” he asks with a look full of desire.
I begin to speak, but then his hips push into my body, halting my voice. His lips cover mine before I can find words. My hands travel up his arms and into his hair. I tug gently as his tongue caresses mine, and he moans into my mouth. I feel one of his hands slide slowly down my side, and his fingers slip under my shirt to touch the bare skin of my back just above my waist.
“Caroline?” June calls from behind the door. “Mom, have you seen Caroline?”
“Ugh,” I sigh, blowing my hair out of my eyes as I look up at Liam.
“It’s alright.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose. “Can I take you out tomorrow night?”
“Actually, I have plans already. Maybe later in the week?”
“Sure,” he says, backing away.
“I’ll call you.”
Cracking open the door, I peek around, and I don’t see anyone close by. I slip out and close the door behind me. As I walk into the foyer, I find June with a confused expression on her face.
“Hey,” I say, smiling.
“There you are. What the crap?”
“I just stepped out the back door for a little fresh air. Sorry.”
“You ready?”
“If you are,” I say, still smiling.
Monday
Although the weekend turned out okay, I’m still a little worried about what my brother will have to say at dinner tonight. I’m busy all day with a new client project, so when five o’clock rolls around, I’m not even near ready. I pick up my phone and send a quick text to him.
Running late. Where do you want to eat? I’ll be at least another 45 minutes. —Caroline
No problem. Why don’t we meet at that
same diner? —Cohen
Sounds good. See you soon. —Caroline
Entering the restaurant almost an hour later, I scan the seating areas. He is sitting in a corner booth at the back, looking over the menu. I walk up to the table without him noticing.
“Hi.”
“Oh, Care. Hey. Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”
“You look horrible.”
“Gee, thanks.” He rolls his eyes and then looks back at the menu.
“Well, you do. When was the last time you showered and shaved?” I ask matter-of-factly.
He ignores my question.
My brother’s messy brown hair is in full bed-head style. It’s like he wore a hat all day, took it off, ran through a wind tunnel, and then tried to tame his locks by letting a bird nest in it. I know it sounds bad, but it really is that bad. His color is pale compared to his usual olive skin tone, and he has dark purple circles under his eyes.
A waitress comes to the table and takes our orders. I get a soup and salad with an iced tea, and Cohen gets water and a grilled cheese sandwich.
“That’s seriously all you’re getting?” I ask.
“I’m not that hungry,” he says, staring at the table.
“Okay, spill it. What’s going on?”
Cohen looks up, and when his eyes meet mine, I can see they are troubled and scared.
“Listen…I don’t know. It’s all so complicated. I went home because Julie’s parents were worried about her. She hasn’t been doing well lately, but she seems okay right now. It’s hard to say what’s going to happen. Mom and Dad say I should move on, but it’s not that easy.”
I am, from that instant forward, in caring sister mode. “I’m so sorry, Cohen. I know it has to be hard.”
“It is, and meeting June on top of it all has me crazy in my head. I don’t know what to do. I know I should have called June after I got to Seattle, but how was I supposed to do that while sitting around with our family? I know I need to tell her.”
“Yes, you do.” I pause, taking in my brother’s frailty. “But I understand. You need to give June some credit though. She’ll get it. Have you talked to her?”
“I texted her yesterday. She agreed to have dinner with me tomorrow.”
“Well, that explains her attitude improvement last night.” I laugh. “She’s got a lot on her plate with work right now, so she doesn’t need to worry about you. I think you need to be honest with her.”
He places his face in his hands. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“I don’t mean to be harsh, but you better get ready. I won’t lie to her forever.”
The waitress shows up with our food, and we take some time to eat in silence. My heart breaks for the tattered version of my brother sitting in front of me. I don’t want to feel this way, but I wish things with Julie could just be over, so he could move on without guilt and regret.
Cohen sighs. “I’ll be here until the end of the week. Do you think we can try and get together again before I leave?”
“Sure, if you promise to wash your hair next time,” I say as I reach over and tousle his hair.
He smiles as he reaches up to push my hand off of his head. “Ha. Ha. You’re so funny. I’ll call you on Wednesday or Thursday.”
At least I got one smile out of him.
We walk to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and after a quick hug, we head our separate ways.
Tuesday
I’m not sure why I did it, but I got up two hours early, took an extra long shower, made sure my hair cooperated, and put on my good makeup. Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I put so much effort into getting ready. Today, I am supposed to see Cohen. Not only am I supposed to see Cohen, but we also have plans to go out to dinner. Once again, I’m unsure about what he wants to discuss, but this time, I’m trying not to make any assumptions. Also on the agenda, I hope to not injure him or myself while we’re spending time together.
I walk into the office with my chin up and a big smile on my face. If he is already here, I want to look like I’ve been fine. I sure as hell don’t want him thinking that I’ve been moping around and pining away for him since last Friday morning. Making my way through the maze of cubicles toward my office, I see no sign of him. I let out a sigh as I step through my door. I place my workbag next to the desk, and I turn to glance at the clock.
Something moves in my peripheral vision. It scares me enough to make me jump back, causing me to fall into my large potted plant-tree-thing in the corner. To avoid hitting the ground, I sit cockeyed in the pot. My face is covered in limbs and large green leaves. Peeking through the human-eating plant, I can see Cohen sitting on the comfortable sofa with one hand held over his mouth. I don’t hear any sounds, but from the looks of it, he’s laughing. For some reason, my usual standoffish self takes a holiday. I launch myself up from my seat in the pot holding the plant, and I take brisk steps toward him.
“What are you doing in my office? Do you enjoy scaring the crap out of women and causing near catastrophes? Or is it just when you see me?”
His eyes grow wide, and those sexy wrinkles beside his eyes fade. Thank God. I don’t think I could hold on to my angry attitude if he kept smiling.
“Mr. Hargrove wanted me to tell you that we’ll be meeting in the conference room at eight thirty. I have to leave by the end of the week, so we need to get started on the rest of our project. I came to tell you, but you weren’t here yet, so I made myself comfortable. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“Right. Okay. Well, you can go now. I’ll see you at the meeting,” I say, turning toward my desk.
With my shoulders back and head held high, I walk over to my desk chair and sit. Looking back at Cohen, I give him the meanest stare I can muster.
“See you there.” He stands to leave, but then hesitates as if he wants to say something else. His mouth is open, but then he bites down on his bottom lip, holding back.
“Did you need something else?”
“Actually, I was just going to tell you that unless you enjoy the feel of sitting on bark, you should probably find a mirror and wipe off your skirt.”
You have got to be kidd
ing me!
He walks out of the office with the wrinkles by his eyes reappearing. I storm to the door and then quietly close it because I’m at work, and slamming doors here is inappropriate. Turning around and looking over my shoulder, I take stock of the damage to my rear end in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. Five large pieces of bark from my potted plant are hanging off from different places on my skirt. I even have two pieces on the back of my shirt. I was so focused on being mad at Cohen that I didn’t even feel them when I sat down in my desk chair.
I brush the pieces to the floor. While I’m running my hand over my butt, it dawns on me that he must have been staring at my backside as I walked to my desk. How else would he have noticed? Well, I guess the chunks of wood on my rear end could have drawn his attention. Either way, he was looking at it. With this realization, a small smile creeps onto my face. I attempt to replace it with my frustrated stare, but the smile stays put.
At the meeting, our team comes up with a strategy for the rest of the week. Cohen puts in his two cents every now and then. I choose to keep my eyes focused on my notes, the presentation screen, or my coworkers. I look anywhere but at Cohen. The few times I speak up, I make sure to address my ideas directly to Mr. Hargrove.
When we break for lunch, I take mine in my office with the door closed. I need as much space from Cohen as possible if I’m going to be truthful and coherent when we meet for dinner tonight. After lunch, I remain in my office, returning emails and taking phone calls. The afternoon is going smoothly until I hear a soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” I call out with a loud voice.
“Hey, it’s Cohen. Don’t be scared. I come in peace.” He laughs. Placing just the tips of his fingers through the door, he waves them in slow motion.
“Shut up. What do you need?”
“It’s five thirty. I was wondering if you were going home or if you wanted to grab dinner now.”
“Are you serious? It’s already five thirty?”
“Definitely serious.”
“I guess we can just go now if you want.”
“That would be fine with me. Go ahead and wrap things up, and then I’ll meet you in the parking garage.” Cohen leaves, closing the door behind him.
I sit frozen for a few moments. Did I really agree to have dinner with him? I have no idea what he’ll have to say, and I have no idea how I’ll react. I want to know why he left so suddenly last week and why he has to leave so quickly this week. It’s none of my business, but I want to know. I finish up my last email for the day and then head out the door.
When I walk into the parking garage, Cohen is standing against his car, staring down at his cell phone. For the first time today, I take in his looks. He isn’t as well put together as usual. His pants and shirt are obviously clean and ironed, but they are nowhere near neatly pressed. He appears more casual than normal with his sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearms. His hair, although usually messy, is now in more disarray.
A little piece of frustration falls away as I realize something unsettling must be going on in his life. Normal people don’t say they want to spend time with someone and then jump on a plane the next day—unless they’re bipolar or schizophrenic. I won’t explore those possibilities right now.
“You ready?” I call out from my car about three vehicles away.
When he glances up, I instantly see it—sadness. A dull ache falls on me as I watch his subdued expression.
“Yeah. I was thinking we could go to that burger place around the corner.”
“That’s fine.”
“You want to meet there or ride together?” he asks.
“I’ll follow you there,” I say, not wanting to be distracted by his presence in the car.
During the drive to the restaurant, I think about what could be going on in Cohen’s life.
As we walk in together, I start to twirl my hair around my finger. Once we’re seated, my focus is not on the menu. We tell the waiter to come back three times before I’m finally ready. After we order, we have to give up our menus, so we no longer have a barrier to hide behind. Cohen looks at me as I glance at anything on my side of the table—my fingernails, my napkin, my salad plate, my fork.
He finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” he says in a voice that sounds broken.
I just can’t figure out why he is broken. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s really not. I should have called you.”
“You left me a note, so I knew you were gone. You can’t help when things happen in your life.”
“But I can help myself from lying to you.”
I think about that for a moment. Should I push the obvious question? Yes, I think I should. “What are you lying about?”
“June, there are a few things you don’t know about me,” he says, hanging his head.
“I’m sure there are. We’ve known each other for less than two weeks. There are lots of things you don’t know about me.”
As if trying to gain stability, Cohen closes his eyes and grasps the edge of the table with both hands. After watching him take several deep breaths, I contemplate asking if he’s okay, and then his eyes dart open.
“The things you don’t know about me could change how you feel.”
“And how do I feel?”
“Before I left, I was sure you felt how I feel. I wanted a chance with you. I wanted you to give me a chance.”
“Wanted? So, now, you don’t want a chance with me?”
“I don’t deserve that chance.”
“What? Did you have to rush back for your court date? A court date where you were being charged for rape, murder, and armed robbery?”
“Really? You know the answer to that,” he says, shaking his head.
“Actually, I don’t, but I’m going to assume that means no. What could possibly make me change my mind about giving someone a chance? It’s not like I’m agreeing to marriage. A chance is just that. I might get hurt. You might get hurt. We might miss other chances. That’s the risk though. That’s the chance you take.”
“What if I told you that you probably don’t want to risk it?”
“Well, I don’t think that’s your call. I’m guessing that if you choose to stop lying to me, then I could make a more educated decision, and we could move past this.”
Our meal arrives, interrupting our discussion.
We both look down at our food, and I assume Cohen is thinking the same thing I am. The conversation has taken away my happy mood along with my appetite. We both pick around our meals for a little while and take sips of our drinks here and there. Cohen glances at me every once in a while. I peek at him less often than I wish I could.
In the end, I get tired of the silence and the apparent lies. “Here’s the deal. I’m not old, but I’m not young. I want a real relationship. I want someone who cares about me, someone who can be honest with me. I think it’s pretty obvious that I want someone who won’t break my heart and who might trust me to not break his. I am willing to give you a chance, but if you can’t let go of whatever is going on, then maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t going to work.”
Cohen’s eyes search mine. He looks worried. No, he looks scared. I can see he wants to say something, but instead, he sits there in silence.
“I’m done eating. Thank you for dinner. If you decide how you feel about me and how you want to deal with those feelings, give me a call. Otherwise, we’ll be coworkers and nothing more.”
“June, I’m so sorry.”
“Cohen, if you are sorry and want something different, then you need to make it happen. I’m here right now because I’m willing, but obviously, whatever decision you are trying to make is too hard for you.”
I push out my chair, and it takes all my courage to turn away from him. Walking slowly, I hope to hear his footsteps behind me. I want his voice to call my name. When I reach my car, I turn the ignition and sit for a minute or two. He doesn’t walk out of the restaurant.
/> I drive to my apartment. He doesn’t call me. I change clothes and lie down in bed. He doesn’t text me.
Translation: He doesn’t want me, or if he does, he’s a coward.
Tomorrow is going to suck. Somehow, I’ll have to find a way to put my emotions in the closet, so I can get through the day.
Wednesday
After my third close call with Liam at his parents’ house on Sunday, I’ve decided that meeting in neutral territory is the safest thing to do until we decide to let out our secret. I couldn’t see Liam on Monday because I had dinner plans with my brother. Then, Tuesday was crazy swamped at work for both of us. I am thankful that we can at least have lunch together today.
As I grab my purse, about to head out the door, Audrey catches me.
“Caroline, I need you to work some extra hours tomorrow night. The Pattersons are out of town, and they want their daughter’s room complete before they return on Friday morning. Could you meet the painters and a contractor at their house at six?”
“Um, yeah. I don’t see why not.”
“Great. I’ll send you over with some materials to finish up a couple of pieces. Wait until you see the room all put together. It’s going to be beautiful.”
“I bet it is. Little Stella is going to feel like a princess.”
Audrey smiles. She turns around and begins to walk down the hallway to her office.
“I’m out for lunch. Be back in a little bit.”
“Meeting that hot piece of…I mean, that guy from the charity event?” she asks, facing me again with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, I’m meeting Liam. I’ll see you in about an hour.”
“Take your time. I’ll be overworking you tomorrow.”
Audrey is a really great boss. I don’t dare admit that decorating and painting are hardly considered overworking in my book.
I walk to the Italian restaurant where Liam and I first ran into each other. He already has a table, and it happens to be the same table from our last lunch date. I wonder if that’s a coincidence. Liam smiles and stands as I walk toward the table. He hugs me, and his embrace is warm and comforting. After the past week of hiding the truth from my best friend, interacting with someone I don’t have to lie to is a relief.
Crossing Paths Page 13