One Week Hating You

by Roya Carmen

  All I really want now is a simple life and a family. A home, two or three little ones, and yes, a job I’m passionate about. I know I’m kind of greedy. I don’t think Peter was the right man for me. He didn’t want these things. I don’t know if you do either.

  I’ve lived all my adventures, have already seen the world. Now, I just want to be with someone I love, who loves me back, and make little people we could love even more than each other.

  Love always,

  Maeve

  P.S. My cat is better looking and way cooler than yours. :)

  I don’t spell it out, but what I’m telling him is that I love him, that I want to be with him, for the rest of our lives. If he chooses to read between the lines and see this message, we might be something, more than friends, more than a casual fling. If not, then I wish him well, always.

  For old times’ sake, I cover the letter and envelope with Snoopy stickers Maddie sent me on my last birthday. These ones don’t smell like strawberries, but I’m sure he’ll think they’re funny.

  I practically dance over to the elevator and have a huge grin on my face the whole way down. The guy standing next to me probably thinks I’ve won the lottery. No, I’m in love, I want to tell him.

  I slip the letter into the mail slot, giddy.

  As I walk back up to Peter’s apartment, I wonder how, just a few short weeks ago, I was in love with Peter. Or so I thought. I don’t think I was ever in love with him. I was in love with the idea of love, the idea of a wedding; the dress, the flowers, my bridesmaids in matching sunny yellow dresses. I was in love with the idea of marriage and having a family of my own.

  With Blake, it’s different. Yes, I still want all those things, but he’s the one I’m in love with, not just the ‘idea’ of him. I’m crazy about him, the perfect specimen that he is, but also the smart, hardworking man who shares my values, the man who smiles from ear to ear when he sees his nephew and niece, the man who makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

  I can’t let him go.

  Kayla was right: I am running away. I’d probably hate Chicago. I hear it’s a great city, but it’s huge. I’m a small town girl. Big cities are exhilarating, but I can never spend too much time in them. I start to feel wired after just a few days. And this job that I’ve idolized and glorified in my mind, is probably just a regular job, just like the others. And it’s just an interview, with quite a few applicants, I imagine. The odds of getting the position are probably slim. I haven’t been realistic, lost in fantasies of a completely new future, the unknown, and the opportunity to escape from my problems, somewhere far away. If I were to get the job, I’m sure it would be exciting at first, but before long, it would become just like any other job, and I’m sure I would be lonely.

  My hands shake and I feel a little nauseous as I call Rebecca Fry. I’m relieved when I get her voice mail. My pulse races. I clear my throat. “Hello Mrs. Fry. This is Maeve Gallagher. I am one of the applicants for the buyer position. I was just calling to let you know that I won’t make it to the interview after all. Another opportunity has suddenly come up, and it’s closer to home,” I lie. There is no other opportunity, but I don’t want to admit that I’ve simply changed my mind after re-evaluating my life. I don’t want her to think I’m a basket case, which I kind of am. “I thank you so much for considering me. It means a lot. Have a good day.”

  I press ‘end call’ and wonder if I’ve just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I fire up my laptop, and cancel my hotel and flights. I get a substantial refund on the hotel but the flight is non-refundable. I can get a credit to fly in the next year, but I’m not sure if I’ll have a need for it. Yes, I’ve wasted some money, and I hate seeing money going down the drain, but it’s better than the alternative: moving somewhere I really don’t want to be, away from family and friends, to start a job I might not even like.

  “You’re not going to Chicago?” Kayla says, flabbergasted. “But you were so excited.”

  “I’m glad she’s not going,” Corrie chimes in. “Now we won’t have to miss her.”

  “Yes, it’s all about us, Corrie.” Kayla smirks.

  Gabbie leans in. “Is this about Blake?”

  I shake my head. “Maybe a little… but not really. I just realized that I was running away… like Kayla said.”

  “Really?” Kayla cocks a brow. “I said that?”

  I smile. “Figures… you say something that makes me re-evaluate my entire life, and you don’t even remember it.”

  Gabbie wraps her hands around her cup. “It’s definitely over with Peter?”

  “Definitely,” I tell her. “Like I said before, it could not be more over.”

  “What about Blake?”

  “Blake…” I start. The thing is, I don’t know how to answer her question. I still don’t know how Blake really feels about me. I know he loves me, but does he love me enough to give me the life I want. Do we want the same things?

  “I don’t know. For the time being, I’m sticking around with you gals.”

  “Yes,” Corrie cheers. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go out dancing tonight.”

  I smile. Corrie loves to go to clubs, dance and flirt with men much too young for her. She’s such a feisty little cougar, and I love that about her. I haven’t been dancing in forever, but it might just be what I need.

  I chat with Momma on Facetime as I get ready for a night out. I’m wearing the same outfit I wore that first night at The Spot, the night I sat on Blake’s lap, and he looked like he wanted to do wicked things to me. That was so damn hot. I dab on some lipstick. I’ve already done my smoky eyes, just the way Corrie taught me.

  “You look a little provocative,” Momma says. “Are you sure you’re okay. Don’t go out and catch one of those nasty STDs now.”

  By ‘provocative,’ she means ‘slutty.’

  I laugh. “Yes, Momma. I promise I won’t have sex with anyone.”

  “Keep an eye on your drink too,” she tells me. “You don’t want to be drugged and end up naked in some man’s bed the next morning, wondering what happened and how you got there.”

  Now she’s freaking me out…yes, that would be awful. “Yes, Momma. I promise to keep an eye on my drink, and Corrie’s too.”

  I’ve already told her all about Chicago, and my decision to not take the job. She never said it out loud, but I could tell that she was happy. “How’s the job search going? You can find something around Burlington, I’m sure,” she says. “Who knows? You could even take over for me here at the store,” she adds. “We’re looking for a replacement.”

  I laugh. “And work for Blake? I don’t think so.” Although, I must admit that the idea of a daily storage room fuck makes me a little giddy. Every time I think about it, I get hot. “Seriously, that’s crazy.”

  “Really?” she says. “Is it crazy to be close to your family, the people who love you the most in the world?”

  “That’s not what I meant, Momma. I just can’t picture myself working in a convenience store for the rest of my life.”

  Her mouth drops. “Oh, well, apparently, it’s fine for me, but not good enough for you.”

  I desperately try to backtrack. “That’s not what I meant, Momma. You know that… it’s just…” I feel horrible. Sometimes really stupid things come out of my mouth. I really should think before speaking.

  “Well, I should let you go,” she says.

  I can tell she’s still hurt. “I love you, Momma,” I tell her. “To the moon and back.”

  She smiles. “Me too, sweetie. To the moon and back.”

  I wake up with a hangover and fuzzy memories of creepy men and immature boys hitting on me all night. As promised, I kept an eye on our drinks, but I failed to monitor how many we took in. I don’t know how Corrie manages this because she’s smaller than me, but the woman can hold her liquor. Me, not so much.

  I feel a bit nauseous, but I know that after a tall glass of water and toast, I’ll be fine. I
pet Hyde and fill his bowl. He looks at me sideways. He always does this when I’ve gone out for a while, almost as if he’s saying, “How dare you go out and leave me here by myself?”

  Just as I sink my teeth into my peanut butter covered whole-wheat toast, my phone pings. I quickly check it because curiosity always gets the best of me.

  My stomach goes topsy-turvy when I see a text from Blake.

  Get your cute little freckled face over here. Now.

  I want to show you something.

  What?! I love surprises. Blake was always full of them when we were growing up. It could be a snapping turtle by the creek he spotted, or a new ice cream flavor his mom bought, or even one of those candy necklaces I loved so much.

  What is it? I type feverishly.

  I can’t tell you. You’ll have to come and see it. If I could bring it to you, I would, but I can’t.

  Wow! It’s something he can’t bring to me. I may literally die of curiosity.

  You’re so cruel, I write.

  I know. :)

  41

  I SCARF DOWN THE REST of my breakfast, quickly get dressed, brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on some makeup. I skip the mascara.

  I hop in my car, bottle of water and purse in tow, and set off on the two hour drive to my hometown. I sing to the radio, and I’m deliriously happy. What could it be? Possibilities run through my mind. His cat had babies, which explains why she was so chubby. No wait, his cat is male. There’s a deer in his backyard. He knows how I love to spot large wildlife. No, the deer would be long gone by the time I got there. He’s going to propose. No, that’s just plain crazy.

  He’s bought a new car, one of those old vintage cars we’re both crazy about. But that’s something he could bring to me. Unless, the car wasn’t in good repair, a fixer-upper. Yep, that would be exactly up Blake’s alley. That must be it, I decide. A new vintage car, or possibly a motorcycle.

  When I finally get there, there are no new cars or bikes in his yard. I dash out of my car, and don’t even go say hi to Momma. I run right to Blake’s place.

  My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage as I knock on the door. Blake is all smiles when he answers, gorgeous as always in a long sleeve white shirt and dark jeans. He’s clean shaven today, and holds a cup of coffee. Jekyll slithers between his legs and eyes me curiously. He has bright green eyes, and you can tell he’s friendly. Not as beautiful as Hyde, but pretty sweet.

  “Come in,” he says.

  I slip off my red heels and follow him to the kitchen. I’m impressed by the space; white cabinets, granite countertops, an apron sink and a rustic harvest table; classic modern country. I’m too eager to talk about his awesome kitchen. I get straight to the point. “Where is this surprise?”

  “You look cute today,” he says with a playful smile.

  I look down at the outfit I threw together; ripped jeans and a Coldplay t-shirt, white ankle socks. My hair is unwashed, and my eyes are still a little smoky.

  “So what did you want to show me?” I ask, eager to find out.

  He bites his bottom lip as his gaze travels over the length of my body.

  My jaw drops. “You didn’t lure me here under false pretenses just for a bootie call?” I ask. “Because if you did, I will kill you.”

  He laughs. “No, there is something I need to show you.”

  “Then show me.”

  He inches closer. “God, I was planning to take you right out to see it but…”

  “But what?!” Now, I’m getting really annoyed. Patience has never been my strong suit.

  He pulls me in to him. “But you look so fucking hot, you’re making me hard.”

  Oh crap…

  His words turn me on instantly, like the flick of a switch. I have no control when it comes to this man. I close my eyes, determined not to give in. The delicious scent coming off him is not helping; soap and berries.

  I open my eyes and stare straight at him. “After you show me,” I say. “We’ll fuck like bunnies. I promise.”

  His smile is wicked and I want to take my words back. I want to have him now, right here in the middle of his kitchen.

  He pulls away. “Sounds like a plan.”

  A small part of me is disappointed, but I’m still so curious. I can’t wait to see.

  He catches me by surprise when he grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”

  I follow him eagerly. We hop into his truck, and zoom off around the bend and down the road. Whatever it is, he seems pretty excited about it.

  The drive is very short. We’re heading downtown, and I’m still wracking my brain, trying to figure out what it could be. He parallel parks on the street, right in front of In Style Boutique. The windows are empty, save for four naked mannequins, and there’s an OUT OF BUSINESS sign hanging in the window.

  My heart sinks. I used to come here all the time with Momma. I have so many memories of this store: The bowl of candy Mrs. Davies always had on the counter, the cool framed posters on the wall, vintage Vogue covers, and the tall gilded mirrors in the change rooms, where I would twirl and dance and pretend to be a pretty princess. Mrs. Davies would let me try on some of the pieces. I’d be lost in the oversized dresses, strands of pearls around my neck. I still remember the old record player in the corner where she’d play classical music.

  Blake smiles at me when I step out of the car. He takes my hand in his and leads me to In Style Boutique. I’m slack-jawed and speechless as I follow him. He unlocks the door, and with a hand on the small of my back, he ushers me in.

  There is no clothing anywhere, but the space is far from bare; a gorgeous chandelier hangs from the ceiling, mahogany shelves line the walls, and silk hangers hang from empty racks. I study the familiar cash register counter, the vintage Vogue prints on the wall, and the record player in the corner. In the distance, I can see the beautiful flower curtains hanging in the two change rooms. My heels click loudly against the hardwood floor as I cross the room in a flash. Yes, the tall gilded mirrors and velvet benches are still there.

  There’s a new addition I don’t remember; a mahogany electric fireplace facing two arm chairs and a glass coffee table. “This is a nice touch,” I tell him. “It’s new.”

  “Is it?” he says. “I’d never been here before until very recently.”

  I still don’t quite understand why we’re here.

  “Mrs. Davies closed down her business a week ago. She’s retiring. When I saw the ‘for lease’ sign, I had an idea. I’ve heard women complain about it over and over again… there aren’t any decent clothing stores in Westbrooke,” he says. “I thought it might be a good investment. The lease is pretty cheap,” he goes on. Then a beautiful smile slowly traces his lips. “The only thing is… I know nothing about women’s clothes, or running a clothing store for that matter.”

  I smile, finally clueing in. So I’m not the fastest greyhound on the track, but I finally see the little carrot he’s dangling in front of me.

  “I thought to myself,” he continues, all smiles. “Who do I know who knows everything about women’s fashions, and who just happens to have experience in retail?”

  I smile, speechless. He’s offering me a job. I’m brought back to last night, when I told Momma I could never work for Blake Taylor. But damn, that carrot he’s dangling is my dream job.

  “I was chatting with your mom a few nights ago,” he tells me. “She told me you decided not to go to Chicago.”

  “Yeah, the whole idea was stupid,” I confess. “Kayla was right… I was running away.”

  He inches closer slowly, erasing the distance between us. All those familiar desires fill me again. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  “What does all this mean for us?” I ask.

  “It means I want you to stay here,” he says. “I want to be with you. I want to give you everything you want; the home, the cute kids, the fulfilling career. I want you to be happy, Maeve, and I know that if you’re by my side, I’ll be happy too.”

  My ey
es are full of tears, and I can’t speak. I can’t utter a single syllable. He’s made me too happy for words.

  He wipes a tear off my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You and me, we’ve had it rough,” he says. “But now’s our time. Our time to be happy.”

  With those words, he presses his mouth against mine. I get lost in his kiss and the taste of my tears on our lips. He pulls me in closer against him, and wraps his hands around my rear. He tears his mouth from mine. “And what would make me real happy right now is to have you.”

  I smile. “Yes, please.” I tilt my head to the back of the room. “Right in there, on the velvet bench.”

  He pulls me into one of the change rooms. He sits on the red velvet bench, and I straddle him. He pulls at my t-shirt and peels it over my head. My long hair is a mess around us. “Look at us,” he breathes. I turn my head and study our reflection in the gilded mirror. “Fuck,” I whisper. “You need to take me from behind so I can watch us.”

  His laughter tickles against my shoulder. “You’re so kinky… I love it.”

  I undo the fly of my jeans and pull them over my ass. Damn, this is hot. I sit on him again, facing the mirror, wearing nothing but a black lace bra, panties, and white socks. He cups my breasts and bites my shoulder. “I love you so hard,” he breathes. “Sometimes I can’t stand it.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I fucking love you so much, I can’t stand it either.”

  A wicked grin stretches across his face as he studies our reflection in the gilded mirror, and slowly peels off my panties over my ass. “You and I have a love hate relationship,” he says. “Always have.”

  I smile up at his reflection. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Epilogue

  Valentine’s Day