The intensity of his gaze mirrors my emotions as a dense cloud of sex lingers in the air. I’m drowning, and yet I don’t care. I’m exactly where I want to be.
“Mandy.”
I’m mesmerized by the rumble of his voice—not the just the masculine tone, but the way I feel it vibrate from him to me.
“I meant what I said,” he continues, “I don't want to let you go. I want more than one night with you.”
Amanda
In his pajamas, Jase runs around the living room of our apartment at the speed of light, his Superman cape cloaking his tiny shoulders. I pull my phone closer to hear my best friend and listen to Sally’s apology for the fifteenth time. Shaking my head, I smile at my son’s imagination, certain that soon he will have saved the entire planet.
My mom brought him home this morning on her way to the grocery store. And even though she eyed me suspiciously up and down and asked what time I got home, I didn’t spill.
I didn’t tell her that I didn’t come home until the sun was rising or that I’d awakened in Malcolm’s bed with his arm draped over my waist. I didn’t say that I am completely battered and bruised in the most delicious way. I didn’t say that my core and legs are tender or that I’m completely satiated. Instead, I told her the basic truth: I never met up with Sally because Brian had an emergency at work, and I didn’t meet my blind date.
Of course, that left out a great number of the facts, but it wasn’t a lie.
“He was probably there,” Sally says.
“Well, since I’m not sure what he looks like, and he doesn’t know me, I don’t know.”
“Please, Amanda. You have to give it another try,” Sally pleads. “You know I would never have left you hanging if it weren’t out of my control. Brian feels awful.”
“Sally, stop. I don’t want you to feel bad. The thing is, I’m not sure I’m ready. I tried. I really did—”
“I know you did. That’s why I feel so bad. Just one more time. We’ll make sure nothing gets in the way.”
“It’s just...that was the one night. I don’t want to meet Brian’s friend. Anyway, I think I should concentrate on Jase and work and let fate work out the rest.”
As the words move from my lips through the phone to her ears, I close my eyes.
Fate.
One night.
That’s what Malcolm was. Not a blind date, not an arranged meeting, but fate. Fate set up our meeting for one night, and as my skins flushes with memories, I ask myself, who am I to argue with fate?
Sally is still talking. I'm not sure what she is saying, but I assume it is her apology rephrased in essentially the same way, or perhaps she’s restating her argument against my stance.
“…can’t live like a nun for the rest of your life. You’re too young.”
“Mom, look at me!” Jase proclaims as he bounces on the couch before jumping to the floor. “I’m flying!”
“You are!”
My son runs toward me, barreling into my lap. His sweet gaze looks up to me. “And I’m fast!”
“And loud,” I say with a giggle. “I’m talking to your aunt Sally.”
“Hi, Aunt Sally!” Jase yells as he wiggles free and rushes toward his bedroom.
“Besides,” I say to the phone, “I have Superman here. I don’t think I need any other men, not with Superman.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me call your mom.”
I almost say that she wouldn’t dare, but we both know she would. “The thing is…” I lower my voice. “…I met someone last night. The night wasn’t a bust. I’m not sure I’ll ever see him again, but it was…” I search for the right word. “…fun.”
“What? You what? Holy shit!”
I momentarily pull the phone away from my ear to save my eardrum from splintering as each phrase grows louder.
She continues, “You met someone—like met a man? You let me ramble on for hours and apologize a zillion times and you were holding out on me?”
I shake my head playfully. “You were only apologizing and rambling for minutes, not hours. And I’m holding out on everyone. It was only one night. Now you, Mom, Alec, and everyone else can let me be. Besides, he was…nice.” I smile at his description of nice. “And for the record, that doesn’t mean uglier than shit. I mean nice. He was funny and confident and complimentary—”
“Oh my God! You met someone. How well did you meet him? Did you sleep with him?”
“Remember me? I’m a nun.”
“Amanda Jane Wells, spill or I’m coming over.”
I shrug. “There’s really nothing to spill. Like I said, it was one night. I’d promised you and Mom that I’d remember what it was like to be a woman for one night. I did. End of story.”
“Wait! No. Do not end the story. I can hear something in your voice. I don’t know if you slept with him, but you...” She pauses. “...you did something that made you remember what it’s like to be a woman, and I don’t think that was buying shoes. There’s something. I can hear it!” Her last phrase is so loud that I move the phone away from my ear again.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I told him it was just one night.”
“What? Why?”
Jase runs into the living room, right up to my chair, clutching a jar of peanut butter to his chest. His little eyes flutter as he falls with an agonizing groan to the floor. If he were allergic to peanuts, I might be concerned, but fortunately, he isn’t.
“Oh my goodness,” I say. “What’s the matter, Superman?”
“It’s my krip-o-night…I’m dying…”
I smirk, thinking he has the whole kryptonite thing wrong. “Sally, I need to go. Superman is dying.”
“I need answers.”
“I think he’s hungry. I’m pretty sure I can save him. If I don’t, I’ll let you know.”
“A-man-da.” She elongates my name.
“Nothing more to tell. Bye. Love you.”
After I end the call, I wrangle the jar of peanut butter from Jase’s tiny hands and kiss his nose. He’s so cute with his eyes closed. It’s a moment of peace before he returns to full speed and I do my best to relish the stillness.
Within seconds, he’s dashing around the kitchen as I make his lunch. The table is now some kind of cave and from between the legs of the chairs, he’s assessing his surroundings before once again stamping out villains.
“Mom?” he asks after he crawls out from his cave and stands beside me.
I look down into his big blue eyes, just like his daddy’s. My heart skips a beat as I do a double take.
How hadn't I realized?
Malcolm’s eyes are similar to Jase’s, a deeper blue than mine. The recognition hurts my chest. Was that why I was attracted to him? He doesn’t really look like my husband. Jackson had sandy blond hair like Jase’s. Malcolm’s hair is dark, closer to mine. Yet it was his eyes, the way they stared at me—really looked at me—that made my tummy do flip-flops. The way they seemed to look not only at me, but also see into my soul. As if he could see more than the surface, like he wanted to see more. But there was also the way he complimented my surface appearance that made me feel beautiful and appreciated in a way I hadn’t for so long.
The thoughts cause a lump to form in my throat as I fight to breathe.
“Mommy?” Jase tugs on my shirt.
My hand is on the peanut butter lid, but I haven’t moved.
“What, baby?”
“I’m not a baby,” he answers matter-of-factly.
“No, you’re not.” I bend down and poke his tummy. “But you’ll always be my baby.”
“Even when I’m old?”
“Yep,” I confirm with a kiss to his nose. “Now, let me keep making your lunch.”
“What if I don’t like lunch at my new school?”
I look down, taking in my growing boy. My heart hurts at the thought of him entering school. Sure, he’s been in preschool, but this is real school. It’s the beginning of growing up, growing older, and moving
away. Swallowing back my emotion, I plaster a smile on my face and blink away the moisture. “What makes you think you won’t like it? You like lunch at ABC.”
His little nose scrunches. “Not always.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you don’t like some of the lunches, I’ll pack your lunch on those days.”
His eyes widen as if I’m the best mom in the world. If only he would never change his mind. “Really?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure that we can check the website the week before, and we’ll know what they’re serving. If there’s a day you don’t want to eat what they are going to have, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“And apple slices?”
“And apple slices.”
"Can I get a lunchbox?"
"Of course."
His little arms wrap around my legs. “I love you, Mommy. You’re the best!”
My fingers tousle his sandy blond curls. “I love you more.”
As I carry Jase’s plate to the table, I hear my phone ping. Shaking my head, I say, “Your aunt Sally needs to drop it.”
“Drop what? Will she break it?” Jase asks as he scoots into his chair.
“Never mind.”
He dives into his sandwich, apple slices, and glass of milk as I reach for my phone.
Malcolm is on the screen.
My heart beats faster.
How? How could his name be in my phone?
I swipe the screen and read the text.
I hope you don’t mind, but I sent myself a text from your phone while you were sleeping. This way we each have the other’s number. BTW, you have the cutest snore when you’re asleep.
My palms moisten. No. This isn’t supposed to happen.
I keep reading.
We left this thing with us open. I know you said one night, but without sounding desperate, I meant what I said. I want more.
My eyes close as I try to push away memories of last night, of how great it was, how great he was, his eyes, his smile, his hands...
Now that you know you have my number, I’m waiting for your call or text. Until then, sweet, incredibly sexy Mandy, I'll be busy anticipating your response.
I shake my head.
Shit! Now what do I do?
Malcolm
“You never did tell me what the issue was with the guy you were supposed to meet,” I say into my phone, my feet up on my coffee table as I listen to Mandy’s soft giggle.
I didn’t think she’d call. I was beginning to believe she wouldn’t. She’d said she wanted to have only one night. It was starting to look as if that was all it would be.
Yet I didn’t give up: I waited and hoped. I can’t recall a time—ever—when I’ve been the one waiting for a phone call, yet I did. Sending myself a text and then sending one to her is not my MO. Then again, everything about her and being with her is different. Mandy’s different than the women in my past. She deserves to know how much I enjoyed our one night.
She didn’t return my call all day Saturday.
I’d kept my phone with me for the entire day, even refusing to answer the hundred calls from Brian after the one where I told him it was all right, I wasn’t upset, and that I didn’t want to go out with Sally’s friend. I explained how I needed to concentrate on work, especially this time of year. After all, that’s what brought me to this city.
“I’m embarrassed to say it,” she says softly, regarding my question about her blind-date’s issues.
“My curiosity is going wild.”
“Well, my friend and her boyfriend think he’s been off the dating scene because he can’t…” She giggles again and her voice grows softer. “…because he can’t get it up.”
My cheeks rise as my expression surely mimics some stupid teenager’s. “Then I would guess that you went home with the right guy.”
“Well, yeah. You didn't seem to have a problem with that...either time.”
“Either?” I ask. “Beautiful, I think it was more like five times and no, it wasn’t a problem. It wouldn’t be a problem now either.”
“I-I…this is what I can’t do. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just talk. I can get it up just at the sound of your voice.”
“Oh my!”
“That’s it. Now if you’d moan or whimper in that cute way you do—”
“Malcolm, stop,” she says in a hushed tone. “I can’t have phone sex with you while my son is asleep in the other room.”
Fuck. I’d forgotten all about her son. It’s not that I care if she has a kid. I love kids. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have chosen my new profession. I wouldn't have gone back to school and gotten my degree or moved to this city, seizing the chance to do something meaningful. “Sorry. I forgot.”
Mandy goes quiet on the other end.
“Don’t stop talking. I was just imagining that pink blush on your cheeks. I’m not really getting off, not yet anyway.”
A long sigh fills the silence, coming from her end. “The other night...I-I had a good time…”
My cheeks rise. “I had a better-than-good time. It has been a long time since I’ve had such an amazingly good time. I’m not sure I ever have. I understand you have responsibilities. I get that. I’ll take whatever time you can spare.”
“How?”
“How?” I repeat her question. "What do you mean?"
“Don’t you work?”
“I do. This is Sunday night. I work during the week, normal hours. You?”
“Same.”
“And your son goes to bed…” I let my sentence go unfinished.
“Tonight is early. He starts school Tuesday, and I’ve been trying to get him in a good routine. But as I said, I don’t plan to introduce you. It’s not fair to him.”
I nod my head, liking that she’s protective. That’s the way moms should be. “As much as I want to come to your house and come at your house...and make you come at your house—”
“Malcolm!”
“Right, as I was saying...I get it. I respect it. Can we perhaps plan another date? A real one. Dinner and drinks. Not pizza and rehydration.”
“I don’t know. I think I liked pizza and rehydration.”
“Fuck, now you’re the one with the sexy tone.”
Mandy giggles again, and I imagine her cheeks a stunning shade of crimson.
“I need to check with my mom. She and my dad will probably watch him. They’re great.”
“When does he go to his father’s house?”
She doesn’t respond. As the silence grows, I get the sickening feeling that I’ve overstepped my bounds. “Mandy, I’m sorry. That is none of my business. Please, talk to your parents. My friend is determined to get me to meet that nice lady, but I told him that I’m seeing someone.”
“No! Malcolm, we met. It was one night. We aren’t seeing one another.”
“Oh, sexy. I’ve seen you—all of you—and I want to see all of you again and again. And now you’ve called me back. That must mean something. You also left my place Saturday. So technically, it was one night and a morning. That makes two days.”
“No promises,” Mandy says with a sigh. “My friend is after me too. But I’ve told her a thousand times that I don’t want to see anyone. I guess maybe I should start to rephrase that. I don’t want to see anyone—”
Her tone lingers...as if she has more to say. I sit up, plant my feet on the floor, and grasp the phone tighter. “Anyone...?" I encourage. "…go on.”
“Anyone except you.”
Yes!
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. A date, Ms. Wells, a real date. You name the day and time, and I’ll be the gentleman I wasn’t Friday night.”
Her voice stays low. “I’m admittedly out of practice, but you seemed rather gentlemanly to me. You opened my car door at the restaurant, at your place, and again when I needed to leave. You gallantly offered me your shirt when my dress became...compromised.”
My cheeks rise higher. “I’ll go along with the
car door, but the shirt was purely for my benefit.”
“Yours?”
“Do you have any idea how sexy you looked wearing it?”
“And to think, I’d worked hard to buy the perfect dress. I guess my time was wasted.”
I love the lighthearted glee that’s back in her tone. “No, not wasted. I guess the poor sap with erection issues didn’t get to appreciate it, but I certainly did. You were stunning—in and out of that dress. However, without you in it, it’s just a piece of material.”
“I’m sitting in my living room barefoot, in old shorts and a T-shirt, and yet somehow you’re making me feel pretty.”
“You should never doubt that. Ever.”
“It’s nice to hear. Thank you.”
“I want to learn more about you than your looks. From the moment you sat on the stool beside me, I was attracted to you.” When she doesn’t speak, I go on, “Everything about you...one of the first things that caught my attention is your gorgeous hair. It’s rich and full. I like how it flows over your shoulders. If I close my eyes, I can see you in that booth, and I remember how badly I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it.”
“Well, now, it’s twisted into a messy knot.”
I lean back, imagining her hair on the pillow beside me. “Not to devalue your hard work in preparation for Mr. Issues, but honestly, as lovely as it was at the restaurant, I think it was the most beautiful on my pillow, fanning out like a halo around your face.”
“Malcolm...”
The way she says my name sounds breathy, and I wish with everything in me that I could go to her. “Fuck. You said no phone sex, right?”
“Right,” Mandy agrees, though her tone sounds like she might consider changing her mind.
“Then, instead of my remembering how fantastic you were the other night, how stunning and perfect...let’s concentrate on our upcoming date.”
“I-I don’t...”
“Whenever you want. I’ll wait. I’m not rushing you. You arrange for your son to be taken care of and let me handle everything else. Okay?”
The silence goes on and on. My pulse increases as the TV silently plays some pre-season NHL footage. For the first time that I can ever remember, I don’t care about what’s on the screen. My concern isn’t about the stats or the prognosticators, but about the lady on the other end of this call. With each second, I grow more concerned that she’ll change her mind about going out with me again. I’m almost tempted to speak, to say anything that may help my case and sway her decision my way, but before I do, she finally answers.
One Night Page 6