My mouth captured his, cutting off the words I had been so desperate to hear. It soon became clear that the kiss outside the copy room had been only a warning shot of the passion pent up inside of us.
Be careful, Cadie. I heard the still small voice, with its distress signal and urgent plea. It sounded vaguely like my gut, which I had been trusting to guide me, but there was a difference. All night long, my gut had been offering wise, indisputable counsel: don’t be too eager, hear him out, understand him, don’t wear the overalls. I’d had no problem at all traveling in the direction that all of that wisdom had led me. My gut and my brain, not to mention my heart, had been willing partners.
But as Will kissed me more passionately than he had ever kissed me before, and our hands dared to go where we’d never allowed them to go before; as we sat together on my bed, where we had never sat together before—despite the fact that it was literally placed in the center of my home like an unavoidable temptation—and as we each silently consented to the other, it was abundantly clear.
My gut was attempting to direct me away from the biggest mistake I would ever make, and I was no longer willing to listen.
6
At the End of the Date (But Not of the Day)
Cadie?” Will called out for probably the fifth time. “I feel pretty helpless out here.”
He was beginning to wonder if she was ever coming out of the bathroom, and the longer she stayed in there, the more he wondered if he should even still be at her place when she did finally reappear, or if he should ever show his face again.
He’d been sitting on the edge of the bed ever since the moment she’d run to the bathroom, without a word having been uttered between them. He had gotten mostly dressed, but in the silence he still felt naked and vulnerable. He grabbed his dress shirt from its heap on the floor and buttoned it up over the undershirt he had on. He slipped on his socks and shoes, fully aware he wouldn’t actually make a run for it, of course, but having no idea what his next move should be. Not being able to stand the distance between them any longer, he approached the bathroom door and thought he heard her crying.
He took a deep breath as every single thought passing through his mind began to pass through a different filter. You’re such a jerk, he lectured himself.
He hadn’t been with a woman since giving his life over to God in grad school. He’d had no intention of being with any woman again outside of marriage, but no matter how resolute he’d been in his decision to wait, in the moment he’d thought only of her. Unfortunately, even in his thinking of her he’d thought all the wrong things.
“Cadie?” He repeated her name, but this time softly. He leaned his arm against the door and rested his head there, guilt washing over him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make it just about me.” Though he did feel helpless. “I just . . . I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I wish you’d talk to me.” He listened and heard only an occasional sniff. “Are you hurt? If I hurt you, I’m so sorry. You know I never meant to.” He didn’t know how much more he could take. “Please just talk to me. Please come out. I need to see you.”
He backed away from the door in response to the shuffle he heard, and a moment later the doorknob turned. He never could have guessed that seeing her would be more painful than the agony of the door between them, but as she stood before him with a quilt draped around her shoulders and mascara remnants under her eyes, that reality set in.
He hadn’t previously known helpless.
“Hi,” he whispered. “You okay?” He reached out for her, but she dodged his arms and crossed to the other side of the room.
“I think you should go.”
He turned to her, certain he’d heard her incorrectly. Or at least he really hoped he had. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I think you should go,” she repeated resolutely.
Will took a deep breath and warned himself not to react emotionally. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. He knew it was different for her—he didn’t fully understand how or why it was different, but he knew it was.
“Cadie, I’m sorry if . . .” He cautiously took a slow step toward her, and then another. He took another deep breath and exhaled as he begged his mind to come up with the right words to say. “I’ve always walked away before it was too late, but tonight, I wasn’t . . . I mean, like I said, at the end of the day—”
“Oh, that’s right.” Tears that had been portrayed in the redness of her eyes as a thing of the past once again appeared in the present, and he wasn’t sure if his heart would survive it. “At the end of the day, we want the same thing. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes,” he replied with a shrug, daring to take another step in her direction. “Was I wrong?”
She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. She only tightened the quilt around herself and, her voice breaking, asked, “What were you going to say next, Will? What’s the surprise that was going to make tonight so special?” She turned away from him and looked toward the bed as disdain overtook her face and, he soon discovered, her voice. “Please tell me that whatever it was, you didn’t plan for it to turn into that.”
“No! I didn’t plan it, Cadie. You know that.” There was no right answer. “That shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry. You know I’m sorry. But I don’t think either of us can deny that the last year has been pretty rough at times, and I think that’s, at least in part, because it was becoming more and more difficult to keep from crossing the line. And I haven’t always handled that very well.”
“Please, Will. Just answer the question.” He watched her as she bit her lip and looked down at her feet, toes just peeking out from beneath the quilt. He watched her silent tears flow so heavily that they ran down her neck before absorbing in the cushy bedspread material. “If you didn’t plan for that to happen, what did you think was going to happen tonight?”
Not feeling like he was allowed to reach out and hold her was nearly unprecedented, and not a sensation he ever wanted to experience again. How had one of the best days of his life turned into this?
The “how” seems pretty obvious, he mentally replied to his own soul-searching. You were so careful for so long. How could you have let this happen?
“I wanted to take you away,” he muttered, the plan that he’d thought was so romantic just a little while ago suddenly seeming foolish and naïve. “I felt bad about having to cancel on you the other night, so I convinced Kevin to let us borrow his cabin in the Poconos for a few days. But, I wasn’t planning for this to happen there, either. You have to believe me. I wasn’t planning for this to happen anywhere. I just thought we could get away from everything for a little while, maybe reconnect some. Just relax for a bit, you know?”
He watched as she took in all he’d said, and he was as fascinated by her as he’d always been. Her brain moved so quickly, but he’d long ago learned that in most cases, words took their time to follow. Not too much time—just the right amount. She was careful. Cautious. She seemed to understand, as so many young adults of their generation did not, that words are powerful and permanent.
“Pope’s nose.” Her voice trailed off, along with her eyes.
Admittedly, those weren’t the words he was expecting her to land on.
“You know what?” he asked with renewed vigor. Not that he was feeling vigorous, but he knew he had to start digging them out from the despair. “Maybe we should go. To the Poconos, I mean. We can take a few days off work and focus on us, and talk about everything. I realize it’s going to take us some time to bounce back from this, but—”
“At the end of the day, I don’t know that we’ve ever wanted the same thing, Will.”
“I don’t think that’s true—”
“I didn’t want this!” she cried.
Panic and heartbreak rose in his chest. She still wasn’t looking at him, and he was glad. He could only imagine what the fear and pain looked like on his own face. “I didn’t . . . I mean, you were
. . .” Wasn’t breathing supposed to be involuntary? Why was he having to put in so much effort? “I blame myself. I do. I take full responsibility. But you didn’t give me any indication that—”
“That’s not what I mean.” She groaned, and more tears fell, then she cleared her throat and went back to staring at her toes. “You didn’t do it alone, and you don’t have to take full responsibility. I . . . yeah . . . I wanted it in the moment,” she whispered. “But at the end of the day?” She slowly raised her head and met his eyes. “At the end of the day, all I’ve ever wanted is you.”
For the first time since desire had completed its transformation into guilt, a smile formed on his face. “And all I’ve ever wanted is you. See? We’re on the same page after all.”
“This isn’t working. I’m sorry. This just . . . isn’t working.”
“What isn’t working? This isn’t working? What is this? It’s bad. Trust me, I know this is bad. But once the dust has settled—”
“Once the dust has settled?” Cadie whimpered, pulling the quilt even more tightly around her. “What does that even mean? What do you think comes next?”
He took a shaky breath. “Hang on. What are you . . . are you saying, we aren’t working?”
“I think you should go, Will,” she said one last time, so softly.
Everything in him was telling him to fight it. To fight her, if he had to. She was wrong. He knew it, and he was convinced that once the emotion of the situation cleared away, she would know it too. Ultimately, it was his confidence in that, his confidence in them, that caused him to grab his tie, vest, and brand-new suit jacket—all painful reminders of the hope and excitement with which the evening had begun—and walk out of her apartment without saying another word.
7
A Few Days Later (Long Before the Dust Settled)
I know that technically a walk of shame takes place the morning after a sexual encounter—same clothes, messy hair, unbrushed teeth. I’m not sure that walking back into ASN after a sick day and a weekend qualified. I was no longer wearing the black slacks and jade blouse that had failed me so spectacularly, and my dental hygiene was as meticulous as ever. Nevertheless, shame coursed through every inch of my body.
I was sure someone would know. I didn’t think that Will would tell anyone, but somehow they would know. And even if they didn’t, I knew. I would always know. Perhaps every step I ever took, for the rest of my life, was destined to be part of my walk of shame.
“Hey, you,” Darby greeted me as I entered The Bench’s accounting suite. “Feeling better?”
Such a loaded question.
Better? my brain cried out. Better than what? Better than the bottomless pit of despair that I’ve been living in for the past few days? Better than the constant crushing conviction that I’m resigned to be grappling with every time I breathe until the day I die or become a nun, whichever comes first?
But since I knew she only meant “better than the stomach flu,” which I had claimed to have so I could skip work on Friday and blow off Darby all weekend, I replied, “Yes. Thanks.”
I knew I would have to tell her. Maybe I wouldn’t ever have to tell anyone else, but I would have to tell Darby. For one thing, she would know something was up, and she would keep hounding me until she figured it out. Beyond that, I knew I needed to talk to someone. Without Will, Darby would always be my someone.
I walked into my office and set down my bag. It was all so deceptively normal. Set down the bag, like every other day. Hang up the jacket. Check the messages. Sign on the computer. But it was the things that were so unlike any other day that already hurt, even before they happened. It was those things that had caused me to contemplate how long I could call in sick before rumors would begin circulating that I had somehow contracted malaria.
“At least I wouldn’t feel guilty about malaria,” I grumbled to myself as I pulled out my desk chair and sat down.
“Why would you feel guilty about malaria? Are we supposed to feel guilty about malaria?” Darby asked from the doorway. “I confess I don’t know much about it. Is that the mosquitos one?” She paused. “Is there a telethon or something? Should I send a check?”
“I was just . . .” What? What was I just? I sighed and crossed my arms on the desk and then lowered my head in defeat. Embarrassingly quick defeat. “I need to talk to you.”
“Okay . . .” Her tone was instantly dripping with concern. “Should I shut the door?”
“Yes, please,” I muttered, my head still buried in my arms. “And lock it.”
I heard the door shut and the lock click in quick succession, and then she rushed over to the other side of the desk. “Do you have malaria? I’m so sorry I was making jokes, Cadie. How do you even get malaria in New York?”
I laughed—truly laughed—for the first time in days, and I lifted my head. “I don’t have malaria, Darb.” She was just a little too easily convinced that I had somehow contracted a tropical disease. Never mind that Coney Island was the farthest south I’d traveled in at least two years.
“So it really was just a stomach flu?” she asked.
And in a flash, the humor was gone and the guilt was back. That had been a nice four seconds.
“Not exactly.”
The concern returned to her face as she sat down and leaned in, ready to listen. “Okay, what are you not telling me?”
I took a deep breath and prepared to say the words aloud for the first time. It sure felt like they didn’t want to come out, which I suppose wasn’t surprising. But as many times as I had repeated them over and over in my mind, you would think I would be desensitized to them somewhat.
“Will and I had sex.”
I had expected shock. Maybe a little bit of shouting. Quite possibly she would track down some ashes and sackcloth for me, just to get the ball rolling. What I hadn’t expected was for my best friend to not believe me.
“No, seriously, Cadie. I’m worried. What’s going on?”
Well, crap. I was actually going to have to say it again?
“Seriously,” I replied in a hushed tone—just loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that the screaming inside my head might drown it out so I wouldn’t have to hear myself say the words a second time. “Thursday. He came over. We had sex.”
There it was. Shock was very plainly registered on her face, I was pretty sure shouting was imminent, and I fully expected to get a notification at any moment that an order had been placed in our shared Amazon account for sackcloth and ashes—hopefully with two-day shipping, since we’re Prime members.
“But you said . . .”
“I know.”
“You said you canceled. Because you were—”
“Sick. I know. I wasn’t sick.”
“Why did you lie to me, Cadie? Me! You don’t lie to me!” she, of course, shouted.
“I know. I know!” I lifted my hands in surrender as tears burned my eyes. “I’m sorry. But I knew that if you knew I ended up getting together with him, you would ask if he had proposed. Or, worse yet, you’d assume he had. And then I’d have to talk about it.” My lip began to tremble and I reached for a tissue. “And I just couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t. I really don’t know . . . I don’t know how it happened. I feel so stupid.”
I collapsed in a heap of tears, and in an instant, she was by my side. In an instant I felt even stupider because I hadn’t allowed her to be by my side until then. When would I learn? Darby would never judge me or force me to focus on my failings. She understood I was doing that quite well on my own, without anyone’s assistance. She no doubt knew that we’d get around to all of it—the pain caused by betraying my convictions, and my fears about disappointing God so spectacularly, as I knew I had. But there would be time for that later.
She wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on top of mine as I sobbed.
“Okay,” she began, the predictably shouty side giving way to the calm and comforting side. “Tell me what you need. Do we talk about
this now? Do you want to wait until later?” When I didn’t answer, she added, “I’ll go tell everyone you have malaria, if that’s what you need.”
“How would that help?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t.”
“I bet everyone would leave me alone.” I sniffed. “That would be good.”
“That would be good. Although—and bear with me here, I’m just spitballing—if I go out there and tell them, I might not be allowed to come back in. I mean, I don’t know much about malaria—”
“Yes, you made that clear earlier . . .”
“But I’m pretty sure if we report a case on Fulton Street, somebody will have to be called in. Like the CDC, or—”
“Will Smith?” I sniffed again as I looked up at her.
She looked down at me, confused. “Um, sure, sure. Maybe they’ll call in Will Smith.”
“Because of I Am Legend, I mean.”
She smiled. “Yep. They would definitely call in Will Smith. And then I wouldn’t be allowed to come in to see you.”
“I don’t actually think it’s contagious.”
“Look, just because you apparently know everything about malaria doesn’t mean anyone else does, and we can’t risk a quarantine where we get separated. So I think what we should do instead is just send a memo from here. ‘To: All ASN staff. Please be aware that Cadie McCaffrey in accounting has malaria. She’ll be fine. Just let her be for a few days—’”
“And maybe they can drop coffee and bagels through the air vent or something?”
“Okay, so, ‘Please be aware that Cadie McCaffrey in accounting has malaria. Send coffee and bagels. And Will Smith.’ Will that work?”
I blew my nose and replied, “That works.”
Wooing Cadie McCaffrey Page 7
