To See You Again

by gard, marian

  "Hey, sleepy head." He grins at me. "It's a rare day that I'm up before you. You better get in the shower. There's plenty of girly stuff in there I'm sure you can use, and I think your friends are already up." He smirks at my horrified expression. I never oversleep.

  I rip off the sheets and stumble across the room, grabbing a towel from a stack in the corner. "Oh, my God!" I exclaim. "What time is it?"

  "Easy baby, it's a little before seven," Beckett soothes. He guides me into the bathroom and starts the shower for me. The bathroom is beautiful, all dark granite with a modern shower stall, a long, spotless glass door and an ornate sink. In the corner there's a mahogany cabinet filled with toiletries and towels. Beckett removes a couple of bottles and places them in my hand. "Try not to freak out, baby. You needed the sleep." I refuse to answer him so he adds, "Take a quick shower, we'll eat, say our thank yous, and then we can share a cab to work this morning. You can still make it there by eight. No worries."

  By eight? He says that like it's a good thing.

  I rip my clothes off and step into the shower. The water is still a little chilly and I nearly yelp. How on earth did I oversleep? The last time I looked at the clock, it was a little before five in the morning. I must've fallen into a deep sleep right after that. Shit! Shit! Shit! I'm awake now. Who the hell needs coffee when you have freak-out-adrenaline coursing through your veins? I shower at lightning speed and barely dry off before pulling on the clothes Leighton lent to me. Staring back at my reflection, I have to hand it to her; the outfit looks cute and much to my shock, it fits. I take a deep breath and exit the bathroom. Beckett is straightening his tie in the full-length mirror.

  "How do I look, baby?" he asks, looking past his reflection and onto me.

  "Handsome. Is that Collin's?"

  "Yes. You just missed Leighton. She brought it down for me. I'm wearing yesterday's pants, but I doubt anyone will notice." He whirls around to face me. "You ready?"

  Ready to get the hell out of here as fast as possible? You betcha. I reach over and grab my purse and bag and give Beckett a nod. I glance back at the sheets strewn behind me. "Beck, we should probably make the bed. Don't you think?"

  He shakes his head. "Leighton said not to worry about it. Apparently, Collin has a maid." He waggles his eyebrows and looks as though he's restraining a giggle in his throat.

  I'm not in the joking mood, so I ignore him and glance at my watch. "Well, I need to get on the road so we should head up now," I say firmly.

  Chapter 16

  Collin

  Rachel and Beckett have been upstairs for at least fifteen minutes and she has yet to even make eye contact with me. She was quiet last night, but this morning she's taking ignoring me to an all-new level. I've made eggs in toast—her favorite, or at least it was—but she's just picking at it.

  "This is great, Collin," Beckett proclaims, with a mouthful of the last of his food. I'd never seen anyone make eggs like this until I met Rach. She orders them whenever we're out for breakfast, but then usually complains that they don't get them right. I bet these hit the nail on the head, right baby?" He elbows her, but she doesn't respond. She's staring at the table like she's in a trance.

  "Are you feeling OK, Rachel? You haven't touched your breakfast." I stare her down, but she barely elevates her head to answer me.

  She shakes her head and sits up slightly, but still refuses to look at me as she answers. "I'm sorry everyone. I don't mean to be rude. I'm just concerned about work. I really need to get into the office. In fact, Beck, do you think you're ready to go now?" He nods and swallows the last of his orange juice. I watch intently as Rachel stands and places a hand on Leighton's shoulder. "You've been a perfect hostess, Leighton. Thank you so much for everything. I'll get the clothes back to you as soon as I get them washed and Collin's shirt dry cleaned."

  Leighton stands up, embracing Rachel, and then Beckett immediately after. "Please don't worry about the clothes. I hope we get to see both of you again real soon." Rachel only manages a weak nod in return. This panics Leighton and she shoots me a frantic glance. I avert my gaze. There isn't a goddamn thing I can do about any of this now. I let my emotions overwhelm us both, and Rachel is going to make me pay. Again.

  Beckett shrugs his coat on and then gives me a firm handshake and a smile. "Thanks again, man. Sure hope we didn't impose too much," he says, smiling genuinely. I stare into his eyes for a moment and for the first time I allow myself to consider if what I'm doing is wrong. My tunnel vision has been convenient—only thinking about what I feel and want—but as much as it pains me, Beckett seems like a really good guy.

  "It was no problem at all." I look past him to Rachel who is standing quietly, just behind him. She steps forward and embraces me lightly.

  "Take care, Collin," she murmurs.

  I tug her closer and whisper into her dark hair, pulled tight on the top of her head. "You, too." She extracts herself from me quickly, and then turns toward Beckett, nodding an affirmative to depart. After a moment or two of shuffling, and checking belongings and such, I hear the front door close, and they're gone.

  Leighton emerges from the foyer, hands on her hips. "What the hell was that, Collin?"

  I toss the spatula into the sink and face her, releasing a long breath. Here we go…"What, Leighton?" My tone warns her stop this now, but she ignores it.

  "What did you say?" She accuses.

  "Say to who?" I sigh. "Get to your point. I'm not in the mood for a merry-go-round conversation with you." I level her with my eyes again.

  "Fine, Collin, I will. You said or did something, I don't know which, but your college friend couldn't get out of here fast enough this morning." She comes to stand in front of me, like she's attempting to block any potential exits from the kitchen.

  "She just needed to get to work, Leighton. She said that. Don't make this into something it isn't." I turn around and start washing the pans. I'm not going to have this conversation.

  "No, I won't. That's your job, Collin. You turn everything you can into shit," she seethes.

  I fight for control. Who does she think she is? "What the hell does that even mean, Leighton?" I'm pissed now, but I keep my voice cool and calm, even if my words are the opposite. If she's baiting me, it's working.

  "If something good comes into your life, you just push it away. They seem like nice people. We could've hung out with them, done stuff as couples, instead of it always being my friends." Her voice is cracking. She's about to cry. Ah, shit…

  "What's wrong with your friends?" I ask, lowering my voice, but failing to improve my tone. I keep my back to her. I'm so pissed right now I can't look at her. I know my anger is misplaced, and I'm trying to calm myself, but the frustration and hurt I feel swells and pulsates in my throat.

  "You don't like any of them, for one. Don't think they haven't all noticed." She pauses, undoubtedly hoping for me to leap in with a denial. When she fails to get the response she desires she switches gears and returns to an old argument. "I want us to have a life together as a couple. I can't do it by myself." She sniffs and I know she's crying now. I should go to her. I should hug her, but I just…can't.

  "Has it occurred to you that maybe she just doesn't like me? Maybe she doesn't want me in her life?" I stare out the kitchen window thinking how this simple truth is at the very basis of all my pain and anger in this moment.

  "Gee, you're so friendly toward everyone. I can't imagine why she'd feel that way!" She storms off down the hall and I start a mental countdown. 3…2…1… SLAM. And she wonders why I don't want her to move in.

  Chapter 17

  Rachel

  Vanessa's voice is a welcome break in this crap day from hell. "I'm sorry I can't go out tonight, but I'm so glad you're coming over. Whenever Lindy's sick she won't let Ryan do anything, so I've gotta kind of be ‘on call' tonight."

  "No apologies, Vanessa! I get it. I hope poor, little Lindy-bear feels better soon. Anyway, I'm going to be stuck here for a while longer so I'l
l be happy to just collapse on your couch with some wine tonight." I watch as my office phone lights up with yet another internal voicemail. Yep, it's going to be awhile.

  "I can't wait. I've been thinking about you non-stop. Well, non-stop between puke episodes, that is; which, by the way, I don't want you to worry about. Ryan and I are virus-free and I just wiped down every surface in the house with bleach." She giggles and then says, "No, really, we're like out of bleach. I just sent Ryan to the store for more."

  "After the last twenty-four hours of my life, a stomach virus sounds like an improvement." I glance at my list of unopened email and puff out a sigh.

  "That bad, seriously? Maybe I didn't effectively share just how much puke there's been in this house today," she jokes. I don't reply, and after a beat she says, "That craptastick? Wow. OK, you finish up all your stuff there and get over here ASAP."

  "You got it," I say. "I'll text you when I'm leaving."

  "Sounds good."

  I click the phone off and stare down at my desk. There's so much to do and not enough hours in the day. It also doesn't help that I've been replaying moments with Collin over and over, coming to zero conclusions at all.

  Tim appears in my doorway and has spit out half-a-dozen sentences before I register what he's talking about. He uses his index finger to adjust his glasses and glares at me. "Are you with me, Rachel?"

  Realizing that I've been gaping at him instead of taking notes, I grab a pen in front of me and then immediately drop it on the floor. Scrambling beneath my desk to pick it up I slam my head against the metal middle drawer. When I sit up, sans dignity, Tim is flat-out staring at me. He points in my general direction and makes a small circle in the air with his finger. "What's going on, Rachel?"

  My face warms with humiliation. "Nothing. I'm fine. Go ahead. I'm with you now." He narrows his eyes, but otherwise seems to be willing to let my antics slide. He resumes his rapid-fire list of new tasks and projects and I struggle to keep up. I still feel like I'm in a sleep-deprived fog. I confirm deadlines with him, ask a few questions and then a silence descends between us. I don't trust my cluttered mind enough to fill it, so I'm hoping either Tim does, or this just becomes awkward enough that he leaves. Tim raises one hand and cups the doorframe. I'm silently praying he doesn't want to rehash my slapstick routine from a few moments ago. I'm fine. I swear.

  "You can get Meredith to help you, if you want," he mutters, examining me with a faint look of disapproval. He can always tell when I off. I nod my head and use what little brainpower I have left to will him to just go. He's not picking up what I'm putting down though, that's for sure. He narrows his eyes again. "I heard about the elevator. Were you stuck long?" This may be the closest Tim has ever come to asking me a personal question. I'm once again thrown and bumble around before properly answering him. That's 0 for 2 for me today.

  "Um…well, it seemed that way, but it ended up being fine. I'm fine." I'm nodding my head trying to make all my ‘fines' believable. Tim seems like he's either already bored with this topic, or he believes me. I don't give a crap which one it is.

  "Good. Good," he says curtly, turning to go. I exhale a sigh of relief at his signature conversation-ender. When he's safely out of view, I slam a palm to my forehead. I may be sleep deprived, but the real issue is this Collin brain-jacking. I need to clear my mind and let it go. Let him go, that is.

  Chapter 18

  Collin

  It's late afternoon when I get a text from Leighton.

  Leighton: Still mad?

  Me: You're the one who slammed the door

  Leighton: Is that a yes?

  Me: I don't enjoy you yelling at me, but I'm over it.

  Leighton: I'm really sorry.

  Me: I know. I am too.

  Leighton: Can I come over tonight? Make it up to you?

  Me: Sure. Let yourself in. I should be there around 7.

  I can't really be angry with her. A perfect stranger would've detected the tension between Rachel and me this morning. In fact, the only one who seemed truly oblivious was Beckett. I need to get her to let this go. In fact, according to Rachel, I need to let it go as well.

  I put my phone away and resume checking email. I notice one in the queue with the subject RFP for Marshmen's and I immediately click it open. I peruse the contents quickly. It looks like my head sales rep, Mike, has already scheduled a presentation date with the Marshmen reps. They're having all their candidates pitch on the same day and there are three of us who've made it to this final round. Our company is slotted to go second.

  I drum my fingers on the tabletop. Rachel said they were up for this as well and she seemed excited to be a part of it. It will be pretty difficult to avoid one another on this one. I cover my face and close my eyes, pushing gently on the sockets with my fingers. My head is fucking spinning from lack of sleep and stress. I skipped lunch completely today. My stomach's been in knots since about three in the morning. I'm a goddamn train wreck.

  I try to envision running into Rachel at the Marshmen headquarters and I can't picture any of it. Of course she'd be professional if she saw me out on business, she's Rachel, but it's what she'd be feeling on the inside that both concerns and depresses me. I don't know if I should bow out of this meeting or not. From a business standpoint it's imperative that I go, so I guess there's really nothing to decide about it. It'll be just like ripping off a bandaid. Shit.

  She was direct last night about ceasing contact and judging by her behavior this morning, it didn't appear her decision on the matter had waivered. I doubt she'll be too pleased about this forced contact. I click on the invite from Mike and accept it into my calendar. It's three weeks from now almost to the day. That'll make twice in the span of just a few months that our careers have caused a collision. For a guy who has never believed in fate, I'm sure starting to.

  Chapter 19

  Rachel

  "Get in here!" I'm not even to Vanessa's front door and she's dragging me inside. She immediately starts helping me remove my coat, as I'm kicking my shoes off into the corner of her foyer. "The kids are finally asleep, and Ryan has promised to make the living room ours for the night!" Vanessa exclaims, as she guides me down the hallway, my hand clutched in hers.

  I cough a little, my eyes watering. "Geez, Nessa, you weren't kidding about the bleach. Blech!" I mock gag.

  She laughs. "Trust me, it's worth the burning sensation. You do not want whatever that was!"

  Ryan saunters in, looking like he's been mowed over by a tank. "I've got the monitor. I'll let you know if reinforcements are needed, but I think the worst is over." A look of panic briefly breaks through the exhaustion on his face. "That had to be the worst of it, right?"

  "Oh my God, I hope so. That was some exorcist shit," Vanessa says looking like she's recalling something as disturbing as the movie she's referenced.

  "Sorry, Rach," Ryan mumbles. "We're sure painting a pretty picture of parenthood for you tonight, aren't we?"

  I smile at his tired face. "You guys are the best parents I know. I'm sorry you're both so wrecked. Maybe I should just come back another time?"

  "No!" They shout in unison.

  "You're not going anywhere, Missy!" Vanessa thrusts an authoritative arm out in front of me, forcing me to lean back onto the couch. Ryan reassures me again that I'm welcome and then waves his departure as he meanders down the hall. Vanessa yanks down a fuzzy, blue blanket from the top of the couch and drapes it over our legs. We clink wine glasses and each take a sip.

  I reach over and squeeze Vanessa's hand. "Thanks for doing this," I murmur.

  "What?" She looks at me quizzically.

  "Letting me come over. Giving me a space to just be...well, you know, a mess. I know it's a lot to ask. You have sick kids and your workday never ends. Mom's don't get breaks, and here you are giving me time when you must be exhausted and burnt out yourself!" I study our intertwined hands for a moment before looking up at her.

  Vanessa sets her wine glass down with on
e hand and then places it over our joined ones. "How many times did you come here and just let me vent, or cry or freak out when my dad was sick?" I shrug, but don't really answer her. "You took the kids on Saturdays or Sundays for us countless times so we could spend the day at the hospital with him or go and help my mom. You ordered us that food service, you answered the phone no matter what the hour, you walked the damn dog!" She exhales and squeezes my hand. "You did so much, Rachel."

  "It was nothing," I say. "I wanted to do all of that and more. I would've done more if I could've."

  "Well then, don't you think I feel the same? You need me? I'm here. That's what friendship is. One of the biggest gifts true friendship has to offer is being the respite someone else needs. It's a gift to be here with you. It's a gift to know that when you feel lost or down I get to be the one to help you through it. It isn't a burden, it's an honor." She squeezes her hands tighter and I squeeze back.

  "That's beautiful, Vanessa. I'm so lucky to have you, but I feel foolish and completely ridiculous trying to compare my emotional guy drama to you losing your dad to ALS. The two aren't anywhere in the same ballpark."

  "I see what you're saying, and I appreciate that, but what I'm telling you is that pain is pain, Rachel. I'm not sitting over here keeping score. That's not why I brought my dad up. I can see you're hurting and feeling confused, so we're not going to measure the why and ask if it's worthy. Besides, I think we both know this runs much deeper than just picking the right dress for the high school dance. If I thought you were making something out of nothing, I'd tell you."

  I smile. "I know you would."

  "OK then, let's get down to it. So, you got stuck in an elevator, Rachel?" I nod. "Only you! I swear you're seriously the only person I know who would end up trapped in an elevator for half the freaking day! Your life is a like a sitcom."