by Kate Stewart
“Then she won’t miss me.”
“You are a shit. You know that? Whoever she is you think is more important can wait on your beck and call list.”
“It’s not a woman.”
“We’re all busy, asshat. And I haven’t seen you in months. You want to give her a gift? How about your presence at her birthday party?”
“Fine, I’ll be there. You laid it on pretty heavy there, Miss Fix-It.”
“The only reason I have that job is because you’re the most irresponsible man ever born. How you got through med school is beyond me.”
“You really need to get out more instead of hanging out with that creepy old lady you rent your basement to,” Oliver chuckled.
“Don’t you dare insult Mrs. Zingaro. And I’ll have you know my social calendar is full at the moment.”
“Oh yeah?” His tone changed instantly. Oliver had always been protective, but even more so in the last year. In a moment of weakness, I’d confessed about Luke and that confession had kicked in some overprotective man gene. Though we sparred, more often than not, he never swayed on that front. Since Luke, he’d only gotten worse.
“Don’t worry, big brother. I’m being careful.”
“I need to meet him,” Oliver demanded.
“I just met him.”
“Has Bree?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, but if this lasts, I want an introduction.”
“If this lasts? Says the man who has a little black book full of virtue to destroy.”
“Black books are outdated too, sis. Gotta run. I’ll see you at eight.”
“The party starts at seven!” I said as he hung up on me.
Miss Fix-It. I hated that title, but as I sat back and looked at the skyline, I realized how true it was. I’d been that way my whole life. Always quick to try to figure out some solution, whether it be by numbers or something I could drum up to keep the peace. And the point was brought home as I powered through double my daily workload. That night on my walk home, I found myself searching the sea of faces on the streets of Wicker Park for the one I knew I could draw comfort from. It was inevitable that Cameron and I would run into each other eventually as neighbors. We’d be forced to break the rules, and the bounce in my step told me I was looking forward to it.
Cup Twenty
I ran my finger down the delicate petal of the lily that waited for me and mouthed a “thank you” to Cameron. He bit his lip and winked. My thoughts strayed as I entertained the idea of his teeth on my own lip.
Cameron’s Mac: What are you thinking?
Abbie’s Mac: What was it like growing up in Niagara Falls? I’ve never been.
Cameron’s Mac: That is SO not what you were thinking.
I pressed my lips together.
Cameron’s Mac: Uneventful. I actually grew up just outside, but it’s easier just to tell people Niagara. Small town, everyone knows everyone type of thing. The falls themselves were pretty cool. I mean, you can only see it so many times before it becomes nothing special. And you don’t want to ever overlook anything that beautiful. It was my own fault. I got my first job there when I was sixteen. I helped with events and worked at a gift shop. But I fucking hated it. I’m not a fan of thunderstorms or the rain because of it.
Abbie’s Mac: That’s criminal. I love the rain and thunderstorms.
Cameron’s Mac: Yeah, well, everyone does if they’re inside, dry and warm, not getting pounded by two different types of precipitation.
Abbie’s Mac: I’m going to change your mind about that. I’ll make you appreciate the rain again.
Cameron’s Mac: Not possible.
Abbie’s Mac: It’s a promise.
Cameron’s Mac: No promises you can’t realistically keep, remember?
Abbie’s Mac: It’s good that you’re paying attention, but I’m willing to bet I can sway you. What’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you?
Cameron’s eyes met mine briefly before he typed.
Cameron’s Mac: My mother died almost five years ago. She beat cancer years before and then it came back and ate her alive. It was too abrupt. I’m still not over it.
Abbie’s Mac: I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine losing my mother. That was kind of a deep question for cup one, wasn’t it?
Cameron’s Mac: It’s fine. I love talking about her. She was so incredible. I was an only child and we were close. When I decided to move here, she uprooted my dad from New York just to be near me. I can’t say I haven’t lived a charmed life.
Abbie’s Mac: Same here. My mom is my hero. She’s an amazing photojournalist and still managed to be there when it mattered. My dad is so supportive of her. He never minded taking a backseat to her career. He was the one who was always taking me to school and cooking dinner when she traveled. He even tried to sew my costume together for a play once. It was a total disaster. It was called The Harvest Moon and my only job was to make the switch from a pumpkin to a jack o’ lantern. All I had to do was twist my costume around on cue. I ended up flashing my strawberry-covered panties on stage to the entire fourth grade.
His deep chuckle had every hair on my body standing on end. We were the last two in the café and had been there for hours. I knew it was almost closing time but ignored the clock to savor every minute with him.
Cameron’s Mac: I would love to have seen that.
Abbie’s Mac: It was recorded. And you will never see it. It wasn’t my dad’s fault I did my first striptease in grade school. I love him for his efforts. How about you? Are you close with your dad?
Cameron’s Mac: We have a decent relationship. He would have moved back home if we hadn’t buried Mom here. I think he stays mostly because of that fact. I don’t see him as much as I should. Christmas is weird now. It’s like we’re trying too hard to get back something we can’t have.
Abbie’s Mac: I’m sorry. But I’m glad you told me.
Cameron’s Mac: I told you because I wanted to. Because I want you to know me.
Another long minute of staring. Dire need raced through me, and I could feel it emanating from him. It was equal amounts pleasure and torture, and I was sure he could see the longing in my eyes. But he didn’t press. He never pressed, which was both fascinating and frustrating. I couldn’t help but be happy he hadn’t gone there. Yet, at the same time, I was hoping he would.
Cameron’s Mac: I could have told you about the time I almost made out with a man.
My eyes bulged as he began typing.
Cameron’s Mac: Yeah. I was drunk at a club and Max pulled me away by my collar and saved me years of therapy.
Abbie’s Mac: You and Max seem close. He sounds like good people.
Cameron’s Mac: He’s the best. And I give him hell for it. Very few men would save me for a chance to have that type of leverage. He saved my ass a few too many times in college.
Abbie’s Mac: College is where I met Bree. She was as wild as they come. Still is. Except she gets to live behind the nurse shield to justify the rest of her behavior.
Cameron’s Mac: She seems like good people. A little loud, though.
I bobbed my head furiously and crossed my eyes.
Abbie’s Mac: She’s the best. And the loudest. I think I need to get her hearing checked. It would be terrible to find out all these years later that she’s hard of hearing and I wasn’t a good enough friend to figure it out. But I’m pretty sure it’s just because she’s from Georgia.
I laughed at that, and Cameron’s eyes popped up to watch me.
Cameron’s Mac: How’s that Black Like Your Soul coffee?
Abbie’s Mac: Delicious. And I must compliment you on your mug of choice today. It’s not every day a man can admit that Everything’s a Dildo if You’re Brave Enough.
He let out a sharp laugh as I lifted my fingers, pressed them to my lips, and twisted them his way.
Did I just blow him a kiss?
I don’t know why I did it. He stiffened and his eyes flared as he watched it happen. His
fingers moved slowly over his keys while I waited with blood pounding in my ears.
Cameron’s Mac: Did you just get embarrassed? Cute.
Abbie’s Mac: Can we not talk about it?
Cameron’s Mac: Well, I’m not accepting that as a first kiss. And, Abbie, there will be a first kiss.
Emerald eyes met mine while goosebumps covered me.
Abbie’s Mac: I want that too.
Cameron’s Mac: This experiment of yours has me thinking like a teenager again.
I gave him a deep frown.
Cameron’s Mac: Hear me out before you start picturing porno flicks and sticky socks in my laundry hamper. I’m talking about the stuff in between. I really think about you. I wonder what you’re doing because I can’t text you to ask. I wonder what you’ll think or what you’ll say about something I’m reading. It’s like I crave your opinion now and these conversations. Things can get so easily predictable when you first meet someone and all you are is mostly physical.
I wanted to pry for more, but I didn’t. Those were the rules. My rules.
Abbie’s Mac: How old are you?
Cameron’s Mac: Thirty-four.
Abbie’s Mac: I can’t believe I hadn’t asked that before. Aren’t you going to ask me?
Cameron’s Mac: Without sounding like a prick, I don’t care. I know you have a thing for numbers, but whatever yours is, is fine with me. All I really want to know is if you want to have another cup of coffee with me?
The sincerity in his eyes showed me he meant every word.
I nodded.
“Mrs. Zingaro, I’m really late,” I said as she greeted me just as I was shutting my door.
“Okay, honey, I was just coming up to offer some of my ziti. I know how much you love it. I’ll put some aside for you.” Guilt instantly wracked me as she looked me over. I’d been spending less and less time with her over the last month. “And for the hundredth time, please call me Jenny. You look snazzy. Did you get a new fella?”
“I think so,” I answered.
“Good for you, Abigail.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just don’t want to be late.”
“I understand. I’ve taken up a lot of your time,” she said softly before she perked up. “I hope this one sticks.”
“You and me both.”
She lingered a moment longer. It was obvious she’d recently dyed her silver hair; her hairline was stained purple. I’d been the one to help her with it the last few times she’d colored it. This time, she hadn’t even asked.
“Jenny, I really have to run. I’ll come by and grab that ziti on my way home.”
“Don’t you worry. It will be waiting when you’re ready.” She carefully made her way down the steps as I watched her struggle with her footing. I didn’t know how much longer she would be able to self-sustain. I would have to talk to her son about it in the near future. The thought of her leaving broke my heart. But instead of offering my company and making a promise for later, I kept my mouth shut. Miss Fix-It had a date.
Minutes later, after giving Bennie his twenty outside the café, I flew past Cameron with my borrowed I Wish I Were Felicia. She’s Always Going Somewhere mug and opened my Mac.
Abbie’s Mac: Hi. Sorry I’m late. I got cornered by my tenant again.
He’d been frowning at his screen while I got comfortable. His lips twitched with a small smile as he read my message then looked over at me.
Cameron’s Mac: What did you have to pretend to fix this time?
Abbie’s Mac: Nothing. Turns out she just wanted to feed me, and I was witchy to her before she even offered it. I’ve been spending a lot of time with her the past year and I’ve been neglecting her lately. I feel like shit. But I have to stop before she asks me to join her knitting circle, ya know?
Cameron’s Mac: I’m sure she understands. And I have to say, I’m fond of you for taking care of her like that. It’s a good thing you care.
Though it was warmer today, he was bundled up in a hoodie and wearing a ball cap which was a first. He looked exhausted and for the first time ever, thrown together. Something was . . . off.
Abbie’s Mac: Things looked serious over there when I got here. Everything okay? Are you getting sick?
He gave me a mustered wink as he did a slow perusal of me from the tip of my ankle boots to the top of my head. I didn’t know how he did it with a look alone, but by the time he was done, I felt worshiped. We’d been having coffee every day for the last week and I had to admit I was growing tired of my own rules.
Cameron’s Mac: And now you’re worried about me? Everything’s fine, nothing a little sleep can’t fix. Besides, there’s a lot more I’m interested in going on over there.
Abbie’s Mac: I’ll take that as a compliment.
Cameron’s Mac: As you should. Fuck, you’re beautiful.
Though the sky was gray, I felt covered in sun.
Abbie’s Mac: Do you do that to every woman you woo?
Cameron’s Mac: Do what?
Abbie’s Mac: Say things like that?
Cameron’s Mac: You get no history of woo. Your rules and woo? I mean I know what wooing is, but is that still a word fit for 2017?
Abbie’s Mac: It’s the best word. And I’d say you’re bringing it back fucking nicely.
Cameron’s Mac: Such a dirty mouth on a totally fucking wooable woman.
Though his eyes were lit with mischief and his tilted lips told me he was happy to see me, it was the weariness in his posture that prompted my next question.
Abbie’s Mac: Tell me what’s wrong.
He hovered over his keyboard and I saw him make the decision.
Cameron’s Mac: Can’t.
Abbie’s Mac: You sure? Something I can help with?
Cameron’s Mac: Not with this.
Abbie’s Mac: That bad?
He shrugged.
Cameron’s Mac: Just a shit day. I need a vacation.
Just as he said it, his phone rattled on the table. He ran a business and I knew more than anyone how taxing it could be. He silenced his phone without looking at it and put it in his pocket.
Abbie’s Mac: Sure I can’t help?
Cameron jerked his head as if the question annoyed him and I paused my hands over my keys. It was the first time I’d seen that side of him and I sat idle. Uncomfortable and ready to make an excuse, I began to type.
Cameron’s Mac: I’m sorry. Don’t even think about leaving me here. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.
When I remained quiet he spoke.
“Abbie, look at me.”
I looked up over our Macs and saw his apology.
“I’m sorry.”
Abbie’s Mac: It’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed.
Cameron’s Mac: It’s one of the things I like about you. I’m fond of Miss Fix-It. Okay? I’m sorry. I’m fucking stressed out and I’m tired and all I want to do is walk over there and ruin your lips.
I would have given anything to run my fingers through his hair and kiss his thoughts away. I said a silent prayer he could deliver a kiss. It meant life or death to me.
Abbie’s Mac: Are you a good kisser?
Cameron’s Mac: I’ve had no complaints. But why don’t you get that beautiful, jean-clad ass over here and find out?
Abbie’s Mac: You would kiss me for the first time in a coffee shop?
Cameron’s Mac: In front of God and everyone. At this point, I’d kiss you anywhere you let me. Are you ready for that, Abbie? Because once I get access to those lips, I’m going to suck them dry.
Abbie’s Mac: Sounds promising and painful.
Cameron’s Mac: A kiss can be an introduction, statement, and a promise. I plan to make all three when you let me.
I trembled inside at his words. He was coming on strong. But we’d been doing the coffee dates for over a month. I sometimes wondered if he was going to tap out. As if he could sense my thoughts, he sent another message.
Cameron’s
Mac: I can wait. I will wait. Tell me about your day.
Abbie’s Mac: Much of the same. Nothing to report. Numbers don’t lie—ever. It’s so cut and dry, sometimes I wonder what I was thinking with my career choice.
Cameron’s Mac: Bored?
Abbie’s Mac: I need a challenge. A puzzle I can’t figure out. I need to be engaged, and the project I’m working on is ending soon. I just need that fire that comes with a new job.
Cameron’s Mac: So, it’s coming. You just have to be patient.
He smirked because he’d gathered through our earlier conversations that patience was something I lacked. Cameron read me well, and I loved that fact.
Abbie’s Mac: My mother says I was the most restless and eager kid on the planet. And she claims I ruined every spelling bee, blurting the answers out of turn.
His brow lifted as he gave me another knowing twist of his lips.
Cameron’s Mac: You totally ruined them.
Abbie’s Mac: Yes, Cameron, I am I M P A T I E N T. I ruined the second-grade spelling bee and Steven Marcum’s epic comeback. I was an asshole kid.
Cameron’s Mac: Overachiever?
Abbie’s Mac: No, but I wanted to be. So badly. My mother’s praise was all I craved.
I gave a light laugh while I typed.
Abbie’s Mac: My mother’s love made me an asshole.
Cameron’s Mac: I love it when you crack yourself up. Laugh at your own shit. It’s adorable.
Abbie’s Mac: You do?
Cameron’s Mac: Yeah, I do. And you’re not even funny.
I shot him the bird. That earned me a chuckle.
I studied his Adam’s apple while he laughed, itching to get my lips on it, that’s when I saw the deep scratch next to it.
Abbie’s Mac: What in the hell happened to your neck?
Cameron’s Mac: Max’s pit bull, Veronica. She gives shitty hickies.
Abbie’s Mac: That looks awful.
Cameron’s Mac: Doesn’t hurt. And don’t worry, she made sure to apologize by taking a shit in my Nikes.
He grinned and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. My breathing went shallow as I let my imagination get the best of me.
Cameron’s Mac: Want to take a shot at a better hickey? I have the whole left side free.