by Beth Ehemann
“Lust for sure, but I can’t go there. And definitely feelings, but I really can’t go there.” Just saying those words frustrated me. For the first time in my life, I’d met a woman who I wanted to hang out with constantly, wanted to know every single thing I could about her, wanted to protect her fiercely, yet she was untouchable.
“Why can’t you go there?”
I looked at Dr. Roberts like she was nuts. “She was married to my best friend.”
“But she’s not anymore.”
My blood started to boil. “Yeah, because I killed him.”
“Viper, you didn’t kill anyone. It was an accident. You have to realize that.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples with my fingertips, completely ignoring her. While I did feel a certain new level of positivity in my life since I’d been seeing Dr. Roberts, sometimes she still frustrated the fuck out of me.
I sighed and opened my eyes, dropping my hands into my lap.
“I know you just wished me away, but I’m still here,” she said, staring right at me. “And still saying the same thing I did two minutes ago. You need to stop beating yourself up over that accident. Let me ask you this—if Mike hadn’t died the way he did, say he passed in a car accident instead, would you still feel this guilty about falling in love with Michelle?”
“Whoa, first of all, no one said love. I said feelings. There are many feelings other than love. Second, probably. She was still the wife of my best friend. Any feelings I have for her above and beyond friendship make me a dick.”
“Shit happens, Viper. People die. Life goes on. You are still alive, and you can’t keep living worried that you’re going to hurt someone who’s not here anymore.” Her voice was gentle but stern as she leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees. “Feelings are weird little things. We have absolutely no control over them. You can try and tell your feelings which way to go, but they’re defiant bastards who don’t always listen and tend to go wherever they want, paying no attention to time or circumstance.”
Interesting way to look at it.
“Do you think she feels the same way about you?”
I locked my fingers on the top of my head, letting it fall back against the couch in frustration as I stared up at the ceiling. “Who knows? Women are so damn confusing.”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve been with and around enough women to know when they’re into you and when they’re not. Be straight with me.”
“Fine.” I dropped my hands and looked straight at her. “Then yes, I think maybe she is.”
“You can’t completely shut the door on this, Viper. If you need to close it for a little while and think about it some more, that’s fine, but don’t shut it completely. Sometimes once you shut a door, you can’t open it again.”
The lightbulb flipped on and caught my attention.
“Wow.” I looked from it to her. “That went fast.”
She gave me a tight smile. “That’s what happens when you’re half an hour late for an appointment.”
“My bad.” I stood up, grabbed the water bottle off of the table, and headed for the exit door.
“Hey, Viper?” she called after me. “Wanna keep going? Maybe a whole month?”
I got to the exit door and rested my head against it without turning around. “Fine,” I agreed. “I’m getting pretty good with my left hand anyway. It’s kinda like having a new girlfriend.”
Once I got to my car, I checked my messages. To my surprise, I had one from Michelle. She never texted me first.
M: Hey, I know you said you were busy this morning, but I wanted to shoot a quick text anyway and tell you thanks for last night. It was a super shitty day, but you really turned it around when you showed up. I appreciate it.
I stared down at my phone, thinking about what Dr. Roberts had just said about the door. At that moment, I didn’t want to just fling it open, I wanted to pull it off its fucking hinges and throw it away so it could never close again.
Don’t thank me. It was a no-brainer.
M: By the way, I wanted to ask you… I looked at your hockey schedule. You guys are in town on December 12th, and there isn’t a game at all that day. Care to accompany me to my neighbor’s wedding so I don’t have to sit by myself like a loser?
Sure, but Viper still doesn’t dance.
M: I wasn’t even gonna ask. ;)
Sleeping on that couch had done my back no favors, so I decided to head to the stadium and see the trainer. After a little heat and a little ice, I figured I’d get in a quick workout while I was there, even though it was our day off. I needed something to keep my brain occupied anyway.
I was on the treadmill with my earbuds in when Brody walked by the door. He looked in but kept going, backing up when he realized it was me.
He said something but I couldn’t hear him and lip-reading was not one of my specialties. I hit the pause button and stood on the sides of the treadmill as it slowed to a stop, then plucked my buds from my ears. “What’d you say?”
“I said, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’”
“I had an appointment with the mind reader this morning. My back was all tight, so I came in to see Pete and have him work on it.” I leaned against the rail of the treadmill and crossed my arms.
Brody glanced quickly around the room, making sure no one could hear him. “How’s that going, by the way? The therapist thing?”
I shrugged. “Good, I guess. I’ve been given the all clear from her with the office, so at this point it’s my choice to keep going.”
“Nice!” He reached out and punched my bicep.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What? I thought you liked her?”
“I do, but her… practices… are a little unconventional.”
He frowned at me. “Like what?”
It was my turn to look around the room for nosy ears. “A while back, she challenged me to abstain from sex for a week, so to humor her, I did it. Then she upped the challenge to two weeks. Again, I did it. Now, she has me going a month, and I’m sure after that, it’ll keep going.”
The corners of his mouth pointed down as he nodded his head to the side. “That’s definitely interesting, especially for you. Has it fallen off yet?”
“No, asshole,” I said sarcastically. “It hasn’t been all that bad, actually. Different, yes, but not bad.”
“Well, whatever this doctor is doing seems to be working. Tell her I said to keep it up.” He winked at me and tossed his hoodie over his shoulder as he turned for the door. “By the way,”—he stopped suddenly and spun back toward me—“at the risk of you going off on me again, what’s up with you and Michelle?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess Kacie talked to her the other day, and she said something about you giving her cooking lessons?”
I nodded and put my earbuds back in. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Now, fuck off.”
“WHAT ARE YOU guys making?” Matthew climbed onto the stool next to the island and studied the stuff spread out on the counter, wrinkling up his little face as he did so. He leaned in closer to the garlic and plugged his nose. “Ew! It smells gross!”
“You’re gonna like it, I promise,” Michelle said as she lifted him off the stool, patting his butt as he ran away. She turned to me. “He’s gonna like it, right?”
“Hey,” I said, holding my hands up, “you made the promise, not me.”
“The odds are in our favor, though, right? So far we’ve made the lasagna, tilapia, and rosemary chicken. He’s loved all of those. Oh! And burgers that were so good they’ve ruined me for all other burgers for the rest of eternity.”
“The rest of eternity, huh? That’s pretty big.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “You’re going to have to supply me with burgers at least once a month for the rest of my life, okay?”
I’m totally cool with that.
When I didn’t answer, she grinned and nudged me
with her sharp little elbow right in the ribs. “All right, what next?”
“Now you’re gonna take that bowl with all the seasonings in it and rub your meat.” I tried my hardest not to laugh.
Michelle tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips together.
“What?” I defended. “I swear I’m not being dirty. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“Fine.” She picked up a small handful of the seasoning and dropped it on top of the pork tenderloin, massaging it in with her hands.
I walked up behind her and leaned in close above her shoulder. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Rub it real good. Get it all the way in there,” I growled as dirty as I could.
She laughed and elbowed me again. “Knock it off.”
“I can’t help myself. When you rub the pork like that, it really gets my spices flowing.” I danced in a circle around the island.
She pretended to ignore me as she bit her lip and concentrated on what she was doing, but I could tell by the pink in her cheeks I was getting under her skin.
“Okay. Now you’re gonna flip it over and rub it again. Make sure you really get in there and massage that meat. Tell it you love it. Show it.”
Her blue eyes flashed up to me before she rolled them toward the ceiling. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?”
I tilted my head left and right. “So I’ve been told.”
She finished with the spice rub and held her messy hands up in the air. “Now what?”
“Now smack it.”
She pulled her brows in tight, frowning at me. “Huh?”
“Smack the meat,” I repeated.
Her shoulders slumped and she glared at me, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “I’m not gonna smack this piece of meat.”
“You have to. It helps in the cooking process,” I said as seriously as I could. “It loosens the juices.”
“Oh.” She straightened up and paused, thinking about it. “Okay.”
Turning back toward the stove, she took a deep breath before slapping the pork with her right hand. “Like that?” She glanced back for my approval.
Holding my laugh in at that point was physically painful, but I was determined. “Yep, just like that. Smack it again. Harder.”
She hesitantly raised her right hand and brought it down hard against the tenderloin two more times. By the second time, my gut was ready to explode. I laughed out loud so hard that I startled her.
“You’re such a jerk!” she shrieked playfully, charging at me with her wet, spice-rubbed hands. I caught her wrists and held them away from my face.
“I’m sorry, but you were so adorably naive about the whole thing. I couldn’t help it.”
She wiggled her fingers, trying to get close enough to slather that stuff all over my face, but I wasn’t about to let her. I pushed her back, pinning her between me and the counter, gently moving her hands so that I had them securely behind her back.
“The minute you let me loose, you’re dead.” Her eyes were wild and mischievous.
“What makes you think I’m letting you go anytime soon?”
She pulled and wiggled, desperately trying to break free before she finally gave up and sighed, blowing the pieces of loose hair off her forehead. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”
I leaned in close, breathing onto her cheek. “Oh, I can go all night, baby.”
Redness started at the base of her neck, quickly creeping up to her face as she swallowed hard.
“Give up yet?” I asked.
“Fine,” she snapped. “I give up.”
“Now, when I let go, you promise you’re going to go to the sink and wash your hands?”
She stared me straight in the eye and nodded.
“All right, then.” I slowly released her hands and backed away.
She pulled her arms around to the front of her and inspected them. In a flash, she swiped her hand across my face and bolted out of the kitchen.
I covered my eyes with my hands. “Ow! Ow! The spices went in my eyes!” I called out, peeking through my hands to see if she had come back yet.
After a couple more whimpers from me, she peeked her head around the corner cautiously. “Are you serious? Oh shit.” She hurried over and pulled a dish towel out of the drawer, running it under cold water for a second.
I continued to writhe in pain, waiting for her to get closer.
She stood in front of me on her tippy toes, carefully lifting the damn cold cloth to my face, when I reached out and grabbed her around the waist. “Gotcha!”
“Crap!” she shouted, kicking and squirming to try and get out of my grasp. As I stood with a tight grip on her, laughing smugly, her heel connected with my balls. Not a full-on kick but a graze, and any guy will tell you, a graze is a hundred times worse than a straight kick to the junk.
The jolt of her heel made me lose my hold on her waist. Just as she wiggled loose and was about to run, I reached out and spun her, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them against the wall above her head.
“You done yet?” I panted, inches from her face.
Her lips were parted slightly, her chest rising up and down as she stared right into my eyes. I could feel her warm breath on my skin as I searched her face, noticing a tiny scar she had above her lip. I wanted to kiss it. “Not even close,” she said barely above a whisper, arching her eyebrow in challenge. “Someone once told me not to start something I couldn’t finish, so—”
The doorbell rang, startling both of us. In unison, our heads snapped toward the front of the house. Michelle’s neighbor Jodi was standing on the porch, frantically waving at us.
“Damn it,” Michelle mumbled under her breath as she pulled her hands out of my grasp. “Can you let her in while I wash up?”
“Got it.” I sighed, annoyed that I had to let her go.
I opened the door and waved her in. “Come on in. Jodi, right?”
“Thanks.” She sniffed as she walked through the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy, and a wadded-up tissue was clenched in her hand. Anxiety spread through me. I avoided crying women like the fucking plague. Except for one. When she cried, I ran toward her, not away. “Uh… Michelle’s in here. Follow me.” I turned and started walking, hoping she would just follow so I didn’t have to face her again.
As we got to the kitchen, Michelle was wiping her hands on another towel. She took one look at Jodi and rushed toward her. “What’s wrong?”
Jodi’s lip quivered and she crumpled into Michelle’s open arms. “I’m not getting married,” she wailed.
“What are you talking about?” Michelle asked. “Come here, sit down. Tell me what happened.”
I tried to move out of the way but somehow got caught sitting at the kitchen table with the two of them. Panicking like a trapped animal, my mind raced with possible escape routes. If I went to the living room to watch TV, I would look like a dick, but I didn’t really want to sit there and witness whatever was about to take place.
Got it!
I stood up and leaned in just a bit toward them. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Michelle, I’m gonna work on dinner while you guys chat.”
She looked up at me with guilt in her eyes. “Are you sure? I’m so sorry.”
“No, please. Don’t worry about it. I got this.” I scooted out from behind the table and moved quickly over to the counter. I could still hear them talking, but at least I wasn’t expected to be a willing participant anymore.
“So what’s going on? Your wedding is next week,” Michelle said.
Jodi sniffed and blew her nose like a bullhorn into her tissue. “I don’t even know. We’re sitting around having coffee before work and all of a sudden, I’m in the middle of a meltdown, freaking out about whether or not this marriage is gonna work when the others haven’t. I can’t be divorced three times, Michelle. I just can’t.”
I watched in the reflection of the microwave as Michelle put her hand on Jodi’s shoulder. “Okay, okay. S
low down. One thing at a time. What even brought this on?”
“I have no idea. He said something about wanting to plant lilies in the backyard next summer. I hate lilies.”
“Honey, then all you have to do is tell him you hate lilies.”
“But it’s not that. Shouldn’t he know I hate lilies? Why do I have to tell him? And it’s just lilies this time, but what if next time it’s the kind of car he wants me to buy?” Jodi’s voice was rising in a panic, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I slid the pork into the oven.
“Okay, let me ask you something. Do you love him?”
“Yes,” Jodi answered quickly.
“No,” Michelle continued. “Like really, truly, from the bottom of your soul love him? Can’t picture spending another day without him kind of love?”
Jodi took a small pause this time. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“Then you have nothing to worry about. I was only married once, but here’s what it taught me. We grow up, become adults, and get married. From the moment the ring is on our finger, we have these grand ideas in our heads of how our life is supposed to go forever—how things should end up—but it’s not really up to us, is it? I don’t know who it’s up to, but we just have to go with it. We have to keep riding the waves of life, trying not to get sucked too far out and get lost at sea, ya know?”
At that point, I’d stopped cutting the potatoes and was listening closely.
Michelle had waves.
I had doors.
Maybe we could sit on my door and float on top of those waves together.
“You’re so right.” Jodi sniffed again.
Michelle continued, “If you love him, fight for him, fight for both of you. And plant some damn lilies.”
WEDDING DAY! NOT my own, but Michelle’s neighbor Jodi and her soon-to-be husband, Vince, who I had yet to meet. It probably made me a total douche, but when we’d been at Michelle’s the week before and Jodi was having her pre-wedding freak-out, I wasn’t all that disappointed at the thought of it being canceled. I had to get dressed up enough when the team traveled. Having to do it on my downtime was pure torture. The one positive thing about the wedding was I got to have Michelle to myself for a handful of hours, and that was worth wearing a monkey suit any day.