by Aria Ford
If even Carrington felt left out sometimes, then maybe it wasn’t because there was something wrong with me that I felt like this. She was easily the most presentable, respectable person I knew. So, if she felt judged by people, their judgment was dumb. Or misplaced. Whatever.
I wasn’t going to take it seriously anymore.
I sighed and found myself reaching for my phone. It made a noise as I flicked through my emails idly, looking for one from Jarred, my colleague.
“A new message,” I said mildly. “Probably him. Mm…”
I scrolled up to the new message and stared.
“Lawrie at Gmail?” Somehow, that address meant something.
I knew that address.
I opened the email, feeling a tickle of excitement. I stared.
Margo Lawrence?
I read the email, feeling my heart thud in my chest.
The last line went around and around in my head.
“…It would be nice to catch up.”
Had she meant that?
Oh my goodness. I drew in a deep breath, then another, and stopped.
Should I email back? I wanted to. But what about what she’d think of me, what she probably already thought? My leg? My status?
I sighed.
I should remember what I’d just decided. That I wasn’t going to take all that seriously. I let out a long, shuddering breath, scrolled down and replied. I was going to follow my heart for a change.
CHAPTER FOUR
MARGO
My dreams were steamy, occupied by the one man I couldn’t get out of my mind. Well, I could call them dreams—they were more like fevered remembrances. I recalled the way it felt when he entered me, the way he pushed in slowly, knowing how I loved to feel each inch of him going in that way.
I yawned and rolled out of bed when my alarm rang. It was eight o’ clock. Time to get going. My body was still aroused, wet with longing. I recalled Jay touching me, his fingers stroking my folds expertly…I sighed.
I dressed and had breakfast, then headed out for a jog. When I got back, I showered. I went through to the kitchen and made coffee, then sat to drink coffee. I was on autopilot, scrolling through my messages.
No way.
I stared.
Jay wrote back.
My heart thumped in my chest, though I had barely drunk any coffee. I scrolled down and read the words, not quite believing them.
Hi Margo. I’m surprised to hear from you. I’d be pleased to meet for a coffee and catch up. Would tomorrow afternoon work? Let me know. Jay.
I couldn’t believe it. You bet tomorrow afternoon would do. I checked the date he’d sent it, to make sure he meant today. It was.
I felt my hand trembling as I wrote back.
Hi Jay. It was great to hear back from you. How about at four at Crafter’s Café? See you. Margo.
I let out a long sigh. Was I crazy to be doing this?
I felt the urge to talk to someone about it. I had a photo shoot scheduled for this morning until twelve—not an official one, just updating my portfolio—and then between two and three I had an interview slot and at seven I’d agreed to go to an opening event. I could just slide in lunch with Alexandra. Alexandra was my friend from college. A psychology major, she’d done a lot to help me through my crippling sense of inadequacy. It wasn’t just the fact that she “got” that about me, she was just a nice, grounded person. A good friend. I texted her.
Can you meet for lunch today at Greenspace? Hope so. One pm, as usual?
I was on my way out when I heard her reply come through.
Great! See you then. Fun!
I smiled. That was my sanity sorted out for today. I checked my email and felt a little jolt when I found one from Jay.
That sounds good. Jay
I was surprised by how terse it was. He might have managed a bit more enthusiasm. I smiled anyways. I was excited enough for two of us—I didn’t have to have him to take from him that energy I craved.
All the same, I checked my clothes carefully in the mirror at the door. If I didn’t have time to get back home and dress before then, I’d want to know I was looking presentable.
I grinned at myself. A long, oval face grinned back at me, with well-applied makeup and my hair in a knot on my head. I was wearing a black jacket, a casual white shirt, and black slacks. I guess I looked quite formal.
Maybe too formal…
I was about to go and change into something else when I caught myself. Why was I second-guessing myself like this? I always dressed pretty formally—it suited me. If I felt the need to dress down for Jay, that wasn’t a good sign. I should go as myself, no more, no less.
I headed out the door and down to the car.
The photo session went smoothly—I enjoyed my work when I got into it—and it seemed like almost no time had passed before I was heading out to lunch with Alexandra.
“Hey.”
We hugged at the table—Alexandra is very huggy—and sat down. I smiled into her warm brown eyes. With crazy red hair, a heart-shaped face, and those big friendly eyes, I’m not surprised she’s a great therapist. She’s a great friend too. It’s easy to trust her.
“Hey, Margs. How’s life?”
I sighed. “Weird.”
“Mm?”
She had a knack for looking like she was listening raptly, even when she was probably picking her choice of lunch off the chalkboard over the counter. I appreciated it. It’s nice to have someone around who listens intently.
“Well, the thing is…what should I do?”
“What about?” she asked. “And by the way, I’m having the avocado sandwich.”
I laughed. “I’ll have the risotto.”
“Sounds good.”
We indicated our intent to the waiter, who took our orders, brought us water and left.
“Well?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “What’s it?”
I sighed. “I met this guy. A guy I knew from a while ago. He’s the one I told you about?”
“Mm?” She frowned. “Yes. I remember.”
“Well, I bumped into him—almost actually bumped—at the airport the other day. I know. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but…” I paused. “I contacted him. We agreed to meet for coffee. I just wondered…” I trailed off and forgot my worries.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, I was wondering what’s going on. I mean,” I drank some water, then set it aside, “when I knew him before, he just left. Just like that. No reason. Now he’s back and he’s…changed.” I frowned.
“Changed?”
“Well, he’s injured. There’s something wrong with his leg. I don’t know what.”
“And?”
“And, well…he’s so unfriendly.” I giggled, self-conscious. It sounded silly, saying that. But I meant it.
Alexandra frowned. “Unfriendly?”
“Mm. Oh, thanks.” I smiled up at the waiter, who smiled back as he put down a deliciously scented full plate under my nose.
“Well?” Alexandra asked, cutting a big slice off a toasted avocado sandwich and chewing thoughtfully.
“Oh yes. Unfriendly. Well, he acts like he doesn’t really want to know me. I know he just asked me out for coffee but he’s so distant. And he never said anything about why he left. No explanation or anything.” I frowned and cut into my lunch. The smell of spices, rich and warm, flooded my nostrils headily.
“Well, I guess you can’t say he hasn’t explained until you actually chat with him,” Alexandra suggested. “I mean, he might.”
“True.” A flutter of excitement stirred in my stomach and I hoped, not for the first time, that I looked okay in time. I was soon going to see Jay. Maybe she was right. Maybe he would offer some explanation, after all.
“It’s just…” I sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I mean, all those years ago, he walked away without any warning. It was hard, Ally. I didn’t know what to think. I don’t know what to think. It made
me feel worthless.”
Alexandra looked sad. “I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely. “But I’m pretty sure that wasn’t his point. No one who knows you, who dated you, would think that.”
“You sure?” I asked.
She chuckled. “I am sure.”
I smiled. “Thanks. But then…then, why did he do it? It wasn’t fair. I want some explanation from him.” I didn’t know how to explain what it would mean for me to hear some reason—any reason—in his words. I had spent years doubting myself, thinking I’d been worthless to him. Wondering if I was good enough. It would mean so much to me to have that cleared up.
She nodded. “I know you deserve answers,” she said slowly. “But…take it slow, huh?”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
“I’m sure he’ll give them to you. Or why has he invited you?”
I smiled, feeling happier. “True,” I said. I hoped she was right. If there was something I longed for more than anything right now, it was answers.
When I reached the coffee shop, my nerves were strung to breaking point. I stood in the doorway, struggling to compose myself.
I scanned the crowded tables, searching for his familiar presence. There.
From my fortunate placement in the doorway, I could see his blonde hair and blue eyes and those big shoulders. He was seated at a table at the back, eyes focused on the menu. I felt my heart twist with fondness as I studied his familiar posture, the little wrinkle where he drew his brows together, reading.
I walked in. When I was about two paces away, he looked up. I saw his eyes gloss over me then return. They stretched as he stared at me and I felt my heart flutter with pleasure as he focused on my face.
“Margo. Hey.”
I grinned. “Hey. Hi,” I added, as he stood and shook my hand. The touch was like electricity down my arm, tingling all the way up to my shoulder. I shivered. His eyes held mine and something about that stare made my loins ache with longing.
I remembered vividly how it felt to lie beside him, how he had stroked me so expertly, his fingers making my body shiver with their touch. I looked into his eyes, and they held my gaze, their blue depths making me shiver.
I sat down, trying to ignore the fire that was surging through my body.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARGO
“Hi,” he said, sitting down.
Now, with me just twenty inches away across the table he seemed suddenly nervous.
“You had a good day?”
“So far, yes,” I said mildly. Dammit. Why could I not think straight around him? All I could think of, sitting this close, breathing the scent of him, was how much I longed for him. My body was on high alert, every nerve tingling. I felt as if I could feel his warmth on the air and every part of me was straining to feel him.
“Good,” he said. His voice wobbled a little, as if he, too, was nervous. “Me too.”
“Good,” I said.
We sat looking at each other after that.
I reached for something to say but couldn’t think of anything sensible. I sighed.
“You’re living here?” Jay asked, forestalling my attempt to converse.
I giggled. “Yes. Still here.” I grinned. “Where else? I work here.”
“Oh.” He looked embarrassed. Then he grinned. “I guess that was a dumb question, hey?”
I smiled. “No, not really. I might just be visiting family.”
He nodded. “I guess.”
I paused. “Is that why you’re here?” I asked carefully.
“Yes.” He looked at his hands. They rested on the table, fingers long and corded with muscle. I recalled the way those fingers felt when they brushed down my skin with a shiver of delight.
“Well, I hope it’s a nice visit,” I added.
“It has been,” he said. He was looking at me intently and I felt a flush rise up into my face. His blue eyes held my gaze. Looking into those eyes, the way they held mine, smoldering and hot, made the whole attempt at conversation seem ridiculously silly. Why were we sitting here, polite and awkward, when we both clearly wanted something different? Or at least, I thought, feeling my clit throbbing in my panties, I wanted something else.
“Um…are you here long?” I said.
“No. Just a week.”
“That’s not long.”
“No.”
We were floundering desperately in the aftermath, trying to think of something else to say, when we were rescued by the waiter.
“Ready to order?”
“Cappuccino.”
“Regular drip coffee.”
We both gave our orders and the waiter grinned and wrote them down, then withdrew. I was surprised by how automatically we both spoke, both ordering what we always did.
“Still only regular?”
He grinned. It was the first time, since I’d seen him in the airport, that he had given that boyish smile I recalled so well.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Still my favorite.”
“Only because you never try anything different,” I teased. It was an old argument.
“Well, I have strong tastes,” he said. Again, his eyes locked on me.
I shifted where I sat, heat flooding my body. Under the table, I became aware of his knee.
“Well?” I asked, not sure whether I should move my leg or let the slight contact continue. My whole body screamed for the second choice of course. I thought it was prudent to move a bit.
“Well, what?” he said, sounding as if he was trying hard to swallow something big.
“Well, if you don’t try anything else, how will you know those strong tastes wouldn’t settle on something else?” I asked.
He looked into my eyes. The waiter appeared with our coffee, but I barely noticed as he left.
“Well, I know what I like,” he said softly. “And unlike some, I never change my mind.”
I felt his words shudder through me like a drumbeat shudders through wood. I throbbed and ached with the sweetness of his voice, my body turning into a melted mess.
“But, Jay?”
“Yes?”
“What do you mean, change their minds?” Is that what he’d thought? That I’d changed my mind about him? I stared at him.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted his coffee. “Mm. Still my favorite.”
I swallowed hard and turned my attention fiercely to my own coffee. I lifted it and drank. I pulled a face and added sweetener.
He laughed. “Still a sweet tooth?”
“I can’t handle plain coffee,” I admitted. “It’s so bitter.”
He chuckled. “You haven’t changed.”
“Nor have you.”
Our eyes met and held. He looked at me with such surprise and tenderness that my heart thudded painfully. Then, just as his lips parted and his leg stroked mine, he looked down.
“Are you going away this year?” he asked.
I frowned. The abrupt change of subject hurt me. Why was he suddenly so formal?
“I might,” I said lightly. “Depends on this next interview, I guess.”
“Oh?” His eyes met mine, alert again.
What is your problem? I wanted to shout at him. Why are you so changeable all of a sudden?
“I’m interviewing for another contract. With Realtone.”
“Oh?” He frowned.
I felt some professional pride. If I could move from my current job to Realtone, it would be a great move career-wise. I’d worked with Petals for a few years, and I was fairly certain they’d be changing their brand soon. I should find a new place, and as the face of the up-and-coming new brand…
“Well, it’ll be good,” I said carefully, “if they take me on.”
“I’m sure they will,” he said quickly. “You’re good, Margo.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Again, that mix of intimacy and indifference was scaring me. What was I supposed to believe? On the one side, he was acting like we were the best of friends, and on the other lik
e we’d just met under awkward circumstances and had nothing to discuss together. It was difficult and disconcerting.
Make up your mind. “Jay?” I asked.
“Yeah?” He took another sip of coffee, a look or caution on his face.
“Listen, there’s something I want to ask you.” I sounded terse, even to my own ears.
“What?”
There was that guarded look again. He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat as if my asking him a question was the most painful thing that could happen to him. He looked down at his hands and I instantly felt bad.
“I was wondering…well…never mind,” I said quickly. I swallowed hard. This was painful. We were supposed to care about each other. Where had he gone all those years? And why? But all the same, I couldn’t start bombarding the guy with questions now. Slowly. Go slowly. I recalled the words.
“What?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry, Margo. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m just, well…I guess I’m a bit rusty with this conversation thing. I’m sorry,” he said again. His blue eyes met mine and instead of guarded, they looked a little desperate. He smiled at me, a distracted half-smile.
“Well…it’s okay.” I said. “I’m okay. Nothing to be sorry about.” I sniffed. Dammit, I shouldn’t let this guy affect me like this! I let my fingernails dig into my palm, not wanting him to see that he was affecting me. I wasn’t going to open up if he wasn’t going to open up to me—it wouldn’t be fair.
“What did you want to ask?” he asked gently.
“I guess I just wondered what you’re up to,” I said lightly. Slow. Take it slow. For once, I was listening to my friend.
He smiled. “Well, that might surprise you.”
“It might,” I agreed.
“I went to college,” he said. He looked shy and proud. I smiled.
“Wow! That’s great,” I encouraged. “What did you study?”
“Well, I’m a sports nutritionist now. I did sports science.”
“Awesome.” I was proud of him. He wouldn’t have dreamed of a career outside football when I first met him. And now he had one.
“Well, I guess you saw,” he said shyly. He was still looking down at his hands, his cheeks red, voice level. “On the webpage, I mean.”