Pause

by Kylie Scott

  “Think of all those free fillings.”

  I snort. Talk about a meeting of dirty minds.

  “May I?” asks Leif, holding out his hand.

  I pass over my cell.

  “Hold up. I know him,” he mumbles.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He’s got this amazing full-color serpent tattooed on his genitals. Hours of work, that.”

  “What?” I ask. “He has not. You’re making that up.”

  “It’s true. Ed did it himself,” he says. “Got to hand it to your dentist, that sort of thing requires dedication. Especially getting your balls tattooed, you know? That’s some sensitive skin. And so soft and wrinkly. Requires very careful handling. Don’t even ask me about the amount of waxing you’d need to get done beforehand. Ouch.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You’re lying.”

  “Of course I’m lying.” He laughs. “Rest assured, I have no idea what, if anything, is on your dentist’s dick. And even if I did, I’d be bound by professional confidentiality to never tell. But the fascination warring with distaste in your expression is fun to see, though.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything,” I say as I start typing out a text.

  Me: Mother. No.

  Mom: What do you mean?

  Mom: I’m just trying to be supportive.

  Me: Supportive is baking me a cake or buying me a bottle of wine. Saying something kind. Supportive is not hunting up a bang for me the day after my divorce is finalized.

  Mom:I’m just interested in your life.

  Me: Be interested in my life out of the bedroom. Much less awkward.

  Mom: Sex is a perfectly natural thing. Leif is right. You’re so judgy.

  “You told my mom I was judgy?” I ask, ever so slightly cranky. Or hung over. Possibly both.

  “I need coffee,” he says, sitting up and stretching. The way his biceps bulge during this process is frankly fascinating.

  “I can’t believe you said that to her.”

  He sighs. “Anna, I asked Denise where she thought you got your judgmental tendencies from. It was meant to be a joke, but I see the error of my ways now.”

  “You need to stop talking to my mom.”

  “No. I like Denise. She’s funny.”

  “Yeah? Are you laughing with her or at her?”

  “Now that hurts my feelings.”

  “I am perhaps somewhat overly defensive on this front. Sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. I’m laughing with her. That woman knows herself well. More than you give her credit for,” he says. “And she doesn’t take herself too seriously, either.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You have mommy issues,” he says in a rough morning voice. “Fuck, my head hurts. Champagne is lethal.”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, really. I hurt in the weirdest places.”

  “Curtail your man pain. We’re all suffering here,” I say with a groan. “And I don’t have mommy issues. Just some concerns about becoming her mixed with an innate fear of disappointing her brought on by being largely ignored throughout my childhood.”

  “Like I said. Mommy issues.”

  “Go make me coffee. Please. Pretty please?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He heads for the door, but stops halfway. “I slept beside you.”

  I just smile.

  “All night.”

  “Just figuring that out, huh?” I ask.

  He scratches his head, his hair sticking out in every which direction. The difference between me and him is that he makes mornings look good. “Anna, I . . . wow. Wasn’t actually sure that was possible anymore after Shannon and everything. But I didn’t have a nightmare for once. Between you, the champagne, and your fancy bed linen, I actually spent an entire night asleep.”

  “You’re going to be fine, Leif. You really are.”

  He frowns.

  “She hurt you, but she didn’t break you. And everything that happened is on her,” I say, putting my heart and soul into the words. “You’re a good person. One of the best people I’ve ever met. Be kind to yourself, Leif, and don’t carry that around any longer. It’s not your burden because you didn’t do anything wrong. Let it go.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You can do better than that,” I urge.

  He gives himself a little shake. “Ugh. Okay. I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I am. And it doesn’t happen very often, so I really need to seize the moments when it does. Now go make me coffee.”

  “On it!”

  I hope he’s okay. He seems okay. People can do a hell of a lot of damage, intentional or otherwise. And the trauma Leif has been through is extreme. Speaking of which, this morning’s domestic scene warms my wounded heart through and through. Though divorce hasn’t left me as jaded and bitter as I’d expected. I actually feel okay about life and love. Hopeful, even. How could I not after spending the night dancing and drinking followed by waking up next to the object of my affections? So getting over my crush on Leif has been on my to-do list for a while now. Oh well.

  Two Advil and a long hot shower fixes the bulk of my issues. My face is a smudged mess from sleeping in my makeup and I have a small zit on my chin. I really should know better. However, the divorce party was a great success. Everything is good. Right up until I walk out to find Leif hugging another woman in the kitchen.

  Holy shit.

  A beautiful woman with russet skin and long dark hair. She’s like a piece of art with her heavy silver jewelry and red sheath dress. In my old jeans and a tee with my wet hair pulled back in a braid, I do not compare. And that’s not just any old hug they’re sharing. This isn’t some brief pat on the back and you’re good to go. They’re so comfortable with each other’s bodies. Because they’re all but clinging to each other like the oldest and closest of friends or quite possibly a good deal more. It’s a soul hug and I am left out in the cold. Here I thought it was me in particular who he liked hugging. But apparently the man is an equal opportunity hugger. Any girl will do.

  I could swear someone just kicked me in the stomach.

  Leif must sense me standing there staring because he opens his eyes and takes a small step back from the woman with an off-kilter kind of smile on his face. This is weird. I’m making this weird. Whatever expression is on my face right now needs to go. He was never mine and I have no right. I’m just surprised, is all. Really fucking surprised and kind of heartbroken.

  “Anna,” he says. “Hey, ah, this is Roshuane. An old friend of mine. Roshuane, this is my roommate, Anna.”

  And that’s all we are. Roommates. Foolish of me not to get that through my thick skull by now.

  The beautiful woman smiles and oh my God. I’m half in love with her myself. With jealousy slowly draining me of my will to live, I raise my hand in greeting. “Hi.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Anna,” she says, her voice brimming with warmth. Because she has to be nice as well, doesn’t she?

  “Roshuane just got back in town,” says Leif.

  “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” And at this, she gives him a look that cannot be mistaken for anything but blatant carnal interest. Not that I blame her in the least. I harbor many of the same feelings for the man, after all.

  Leif looks between his guest and me. The expression on his face seems to be on the verge of a smile, but again he’s not quite sure if he should. He’s allowed to be happy to see his friend and have sex with her if he so chooses. I’m just his roommate, after all.

  “I’m heading out,” I say, grabbing my purse off the side table. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Nice to meet you, Roshuane.”

  “Anna . . .” Leif begins, but doesn’t seem to know what to say for a minute. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m great,” I lie with a smile. “See you later.”

  And I’m gone.

  “Oh, yeah. They used to fuck like bunnies,” confirms Clem. “We actually had to bang on the wall one night they were getting so loud.”

 
Tessa squeezes her eyelids shut for a second. “Try some tact, yeah?”

  I drain my cup of coffee. There’s not enough caffeine in all of the world to get me through today. I’m just a big ball of hurt feelings. Along with a healthy dash of foolishness, of course.

  The plan was to hide out for a few hours somewhere nearby. Call Briar and whine a while. Possibly retreat to the fallback position of my parents’ house if necessary. But then I walked into a local café and Tessa, her partner Nevin, and their baby were there finishing brunch. After one look at my face, Tessa took me in hand. Apparently my fake smile sucks. Clementine was then summoned by text, and now here we are ensconced at a local bar. Just us girls.

  “What?” asks Clem.

  Tessa jerks her chin in my direction. “Anna has feelings for him. It’s why I told you to get your ass down here.”

  I say nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

  “You do? Shit,” mutters Clem. “Sorry. It’s funny. I wondered if there was something going on. But then you and he seemed to be all platonic and roommate-y, so I figured I was wrong.”

  “Platonic and roommate-y would have been the sensible option,” I say, voice glum.

  Tessa snorts. “Whoever said the heart was sensible?”

  “That’s true,” says Clem. “Ed disliked me with much intensity, and with good reason, but I still stuck to the man like a tick. Couldn’t help myself. I say hang in there, Anna. You’re the only woman I’ve seen Leif spend quality time with since the accident. That has to mean something.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Well, yes, but it means we’re friends. That’s all. And I need to make peace with that because there’s nothing wrong with being friends. I just have a bad habit of growing feelings for this guy and . . . gah.”

  “Do you know for sure Leif’s not interested?” asks Tessa.

  “Besides his sex friend showing up?” I ask.

  “Besides that.”

  “Yes,” I say. Because it’s the truth. When I tried to kiss him he let me down as gently as possible. But it was still a rejection.

  She frowns. “Damn.”

  “Never mind.” I square my shoulders. “I have a part-time job that I enjoy. A nice condo that I share with a good friend. Lots of love and support. Life is good.”

  “Oh, by the way,” says Tessa. “The accountant asked Ed to say thank you for getting the files up to date. Ed might forget, so this is me filling in on that front. We all hate doing admin work, so you’re a godsend.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “And we like you as a person,” adds Clem.

  “That’s true,” says Tessa with nil hesitation. “And we don’t actually like many people.”

  Clem nods. “That’s true. We’re picky when it comes to people.”

  Oh my heart. I am being embraced by a new sisterhood and it’s beautiful. “Thank you. I like you guys too. I really do.”

  “Goodness sake, don’t cry.” Tessa passes me a napkin. “We didn’t tell you that to upset you.”

  “I know,” I say. “I just . . .”

  “You’ve been through a lot,” finishes Clem for me.

  “After that woman turning up at work the other day, I’m not really surprised you’re a bit emotional.” Tessa tosses her hair. I wish I were that cool. “But it’s okay, Anna. Things are going to get better for you.”

  “I believe that,” I say. “I do.”

  “Good.”

  “You’ve come a long way,” says Clem with a gentle smile. She’s been there too. Having to rebuild her existence from the ground up.

  “I’m happy with how things are going.” And it’s the truth. “Thank you for hanging out with me today and getting me over my idiocy.”

  “I’m still not completely convinced it’s idiocy,” says Clem.

  “No. It is. I’m too old for this unrequited bullshit. I should know better.”

  “You’re single and human.” Clem picks up a French fry and waves it about with much meaning. “You’re still breathing. Why shouldn’t you have many and varied hopes and dreams?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You mean because of the divorce?” asks Tessa.

  I nod. “There should be a compulsory waiting period before you can get all attached and lusty after a major breakup. A deep cleansing period. Like an enema for the emotions.”

  Clem laughs. “That doesn’t sound extreme at all.”

  “I repeat, the heart is not sensible,” says Tessa.

  “But maybe you can train it to be.” I ponder the thought. “I have a plan. I’m going to avoid him for a few days until I’ve got myself back under control, then carry on as if this never happened.”

  Tessa just stares. “That’s your plan, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Does denial and avoidance really work, though?” asks Clem.

  “Not even a little.” Tessa steals a fry. “But best of luck to you, girl.”

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  It’s around midnight when I sneak into the condo. Mom and Dad were surprised but happy to see me. Dad even managed to make conversation with me regarding subjects other than the sad demise of my marriage to his best buddy Ryan. And thank God for that. I also spent quality time talking to Briar and dissecting her new relationship with a hot dude who tends bar at her favorite club. All in all, a highly successful day out and about. A day that largely did not involve Leif. Go, me.

  The condo is in darkness, everything quiet. I don’t turn on a light and I don’t make a sound. Mostly. Leif and his lady friend are probably in bed. Or maybe they’re out partying. Living their best lives. Who knows? Not me. Either way, I’m getting to bed without any more weird confrontations. And anyway, it doesn’t even matter. That’s the truth of things. I have made peace with my situation. We’re friends and that’s all. My confused heart can just stop making bad choices. I am moving on with my life.

  I slip off my flats at the door and feel my way carefully forward. The night is so still I can hear the soft hum of music coming from one of our neighbors upstairs. Something bluesy. From the window comes the faint glow of streetlights and there’s the shadow of a tree limb shifting gently on the wall. Truth is, I could have been a super spy. A secret agent or something. My careful quiet progress into the condo is going so damn well. My hand is extended, reaching for the back of the couch, which absolutely has to be there. Or at least very close. Only my hand is too high and I find it care of my bare foot slamming into the couch foot with much damn oomph.

  “Fuck,” I gasp.

  Pain shoots up my leg and holy hell. This hurts. One of the overhead lights turns on and there is Leif, leaning against the wall in the opening of the hallway. He does not look amused. Given I’m the one who almost just broke a toe, I have no idea what he’s got to be grumpy about.

  I hop around to the other side of the couch and sit down. Oh my poor, innocent pinkie toe. I feel so bad for me. “Shit, shit, shit. Did I wake you?”

  “No,” he says, crossing his arms. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  My stomach drops. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  “I was waiting up for you.”

  “Oh.”

  With a sigh, he heads for the fridge, making up an impromptu ice pack with a kitchen towel and a bundle of the cold stuff for me. The sound of the ice hitting the countertop is startlingly loud in the silence. Then he kneels at my feet, frowning at my injury. Carefully, the ice pack is held against my wounded toe. He’s in his sleep pants again. No tee. Far too much skin for my peace of mind. There’s no call for him to be flaunting his nipples and pecs in the privacy of his own home. Talk about disgusting.

  “Why didn’t you just turn on a light when you came in?” he asks.

  “I was trying not to disturb you. Did you have a nice day with your friend?” I ask, playing it cool. All puns intended.

  “We had lunch,” he says.

  “Mm.”

  Therein follows a couple of awkward moments wherein he stares at my foot
and I stare at anything that isn’t him. Or at least try to. My fascination with the man is hard to figure. Rational thought dictates that I should be burnt out from my divorce and in need/want of time and space. And yet the one thing I feel like I might actually need/want is him. Which is terrifying. The timing of this crush is just awful in all the ways. But grown-ass women can control their emotions and behavior. At least I hope I can.

  “Why were you waiting up for me?” I ask at last.

  “Things felt off this morning.” His voice is low and gravelly. “Thought we could talk about it.”

  “What?” I scoff. “No.”

  His brow goes up. “Is that you denying things were weird, or refusing to discuss them with me?”

  “Both.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. Dammit.

  “Anna.” He shakes his head. “I thought we were past this.”

  “Past what?”

  “You running away when things get tough,” he says, resting back on his haunches. “Trust and understanding, remember?”

  I have nothing.

  “Bestie, buddy, roommate . . .”

  At this, I flinch. I can’t help it. The R word is killing me. I’m the worst friend ever.

  “Okay,” he says. As if something’s been decided. “Thing is, I didn’t know Roshuane was stopping by and I—”

  “You’re allowed to have people over whenever you want. It’s none of my business.”

  “Let me finish,” he says, taking a deep breath. “We used to be involved, but things are different now. My interests currently lie elsewhere. So we went and had a nice lunch and we’re probably going to catch up in a couple of weeks’ time for a drink or something. That’s it.”

  And I sit there frozen. “That’s your private business. You didn’t need to tell me all that.”