Noelle's Kiss

by Cindy R. Williams

  I thought I had finally broken the pattern. I’d met a nice guy and was beginning to trust him.

  What an idiot I was. I smashed the steering wheel with one fist.

  I didn’t have much faith in men and had tried to be cautious with Zave, had tried to keep him out of my heart, but he was so charming. No, it wasn’t just that. He seemed so sincere. He seemed so kind, so real, so considerate. I had believed him when he said he cared about me—that he cared about Tatum. I mean, he even talked to Tatum through the TV. He knew rumors would start from that interview, but he didn’t care.

  He didn’t act like a player with Tatum and me. I had to admit that up until now, I thought Zave had the qualities that would make him a great husband and companion and a wonderful dad. Tatum seemed to think he was super. Oh, how I wished he hadn’t turned out like all the rest of them. A moan escaped my throat.

  Now I knew different. Hope died in that moment I overheard Zave saying he wanted to talk to Rhonda.

  Then the thought hit me that something must be wrong with me to keep allowing myself to get duped by these smooth-talking athletes. I must have gullible written on my forehead. Other women realized when they were being played, and they got out quickly, but maybe I’d ignored the signs because I craved love. Maybe I needed validation that I was loveable. For a reporter, one who bases life on facts, I sure was living in la-la land with my fairy tale version of romance. My version of love was just that—make-believe.

  Sure, I knew there were women young and old, here and on road trips, who threw themselves at him. That went with the territory. But he said he wasn’t interested and wanted a wife and family. I had swallowed the nice guy act hook, line, and sinker.

  Tears ran down my cheeks. I continued trying to work through this and realized every man had temptations, whether at work in an office, driving a truck, wearing a police uniform, CEO to ditch digger…or playing sports for a living. There were always women around. But good men weren’t interested in other women, no matter what. Dad had loved Mom, always, and now forever. There had to be more good men like my father. I believed now I would never find one.

  My heart broke. I rubbed my chest with the heel of my palm.

  I had to get off the road. I pulled into a convenience store parking lot. I slumped in my seat, then dropped my head into my hands and sobbed.

  It hurt. It hurt so much, too much for six weeks of knowing someone. I was such a fool. Once again, I’d almost fallen for a jock. “Oh, stop kidding yourself, Elle. You fell down the Grand Canyon for this guy,” I croaked out loud.

  I cried hard for a long time, until the sobs turned into ragged breathing.

  I gave myself a pep talk to try to pull myself together. “Look at the bright side, Elle. You could never have handled all the women he met anyway. You weren’t cut out for that kind of life. This was probably for the best—especially before he got any closer to Tatum.

  “Your sisters tried to warn you. You tried to be cautious. You were blinded by chemistry and that adorable lopsided smile…”

  My bravado slipped and my heart did some slow, sad beats as a fresh batch of tears flowed.

  “Oh, Mom, I wish you were here to talk to. You would help me get through this and…” I broke down into loud sobs again.

  It took me at least a half hour to pull myself together once again.

  “Stop it, Elle. You’re done crying.” I wiped my face and blew my nose and looked into the rear-view mirror. My eyes were puffy—my face streaked with mascara. I was a mess. I stared into the mirror.

  “Well, he’s gone. Out of my life. Rhonda can have him,” I shouted as I smacked the steering wheel with both hands.

  Tatum and I didn’t need a man to be happy. That much I knew for sure. I made a good living, and Tatum and I had everything we needed.

  He was like the rest of them, and I would tell him that tonight when—or—if he called after his game. What was I thinking? I sobbed. He wouldn’t dare call tonight.

  “Now how am I going to get past Joy to pick up Tatum?” I needed a little more time before I could face her. I’d better call.

  “Hello, Joy. I’m running a little late. Are you guys okay if I get there in a half hour or so?”

  “Sure. I ordered pizza, and I’m not sure Tatum would let you take her before she ate some, anyway.”

  I let out a sniff.

  “Are you okay?” Joy’s voice sounded concerned.

  “Sure. Maybe I’m coming down with a bit of a cold. No worries, though. I’ll be fine. You know me. Got to go. See you soon.” I hung up before she could question me any further.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I picked up Tatum, but not without a few questions from Joy. She knew something was up but had the good sense to not ask much in front of the kids. I was sure she’d call later after Tatum and her boys were asleep.

  I listened to Tatum’s excited chatter all the way home about defeating the Vog with her cousins. Grateful I didn’t need to talk, my mind wandered.

  Family…I’d lost my wonderful parents, my sweet little brother, too. Tatum would never know them, but we both had my three sisters and my three nephews. They were incredible. None of us needed a man in our family circle.

  I spent extra time reading and snuggling Tatum that night. The phone rang several times, but I ignored it, sure it was Joy wanting to know what was going on. I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet.

  “Mommy? Can I talk to Tree tonight?” Tatum wiggled a little closer.

  “No, sweetie. I’m not sure if we can talk to him. Tree is out of town until Wednesday. He has lots of basketball games to play and is so busy.” My eyes watered. Stop it, Elle. No crying in front of Tatum. She doesn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this mess. I need to do a better job of protecting her.

  The phone’s incessant ringing woke me. I had been so emotionally exhausted I had fallen asleep beside my little angel and for a short while had found some peace. It was time to face my sister’s questions.

  “Hello.” My voice cracked. Darn, I had wanted to start out strong.

  “Hi, Elle. I called a couple of times tonight, but you didn’t answer. What gives?” Joy sounded worried.

  “Not much, and I’m so tired, sis. Can we talk about it at the Mason Jar Friday? It’s really no big deal.”

  “It’s that Triple X guy, isn’t it? He hurt you, didn’t he?” She sounded angry.

  “Well, yes…umm…yes, he did. Look, you guys were right. He’s just another typical basketball player, and I mean ‘player.’ He has a girlfriend, and silly me, I thought it was me, so congratulations. You were right once again. I’m no good at picking guys.”

  I knew I sounded bitter and was being a little snarky toward her, but I was too tired and hurt to filter the pain. I wanted to go back to sleep and for this to go away.

  Joy was quiet for a moment and then spoke softly as she said, “Listen, Elle, I didn’t want to be right. None of us did. We love you and want you to be happy, so we got a little overprotective. I know you need some time to process what happened. But I’m here. So are Holly and Chrissy. When you are ready to talk or cry, I have a soft shoulder with your name on it.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just so hard. I keep doing this over and over again. Will I ever learn?” I let out a little groan.

  “Sure you will. I’m proud that you opened up and at least gave someone a chance. That tells me you’re beginning to heal and even trust yourself a little.” She paused and took a deep breath. “And, honey, we all strike out more often than not—even most baseball players strike out more than they hit.”

  Her voice sounded so soothing. She was right. At least I had a little faith in men, enough to try. I’d been strong enough to step out of my comfort zone and open my heart. I had to give myself some credit that I was finally healing from that horrible marriage.

  For so long I had been convinced that Blake’s abuse was my fault, but no more. I knew he owned his actions, not me. Women d
id not cause men to be abusive. Abusers managed that evil all by themselves.

  I knew I deserved an honest and good man, one who didn’t take his nasty temper or frustrations out on me—a man who didn’t cheat. I felt a little peace, and a small smile crept onto my face, and then I yawned.

  “I heard that. You get some sleep, and I’ll see you and Tatum at church tomorrow. In fact, why don’t you two have dinner with me and the boys…all my boys. Sean is coming with his son.”

  I let out a sigh.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no. It’s fine. We’d love to come. I can whip up a cake in the morning for dessert.” I yawned again. This was good. Talking to her helped. I realized I just might live. “Thanks, Joy, for being there.”

  “Where else would I be? See you tomorrow, my brave sister. I love you.” Joy always knew what to say to comfort us younger sisters.

  “Love you more, and thanks.” I smiled and hung up.

  I gave Tatum one last kiss on her forehead and quickly changed into my PJs. I snuggled into my pillows and pulled my covers up high under my chin. The phone rang again. The little bit of encouragement and peace I had found talking to Joy flew out into the dark night.

  “Hello.” Again my voice almost broke.

  “Hi, Elle. Wow, I missed you today. I bought you and Tatum surprises. I can’t wait to get back and give them to you both.”

  I remained quiet. He sounded so good, so normal, so sweet.

  “Elle? Are you there?”

  “Yes, Zave, I’m here.” My voice became stronger.

  “What’s wrong?” He sounded truly concerned.

  Oh, he was good.

  “Wrong? Be decent and do me one favor, just one. Don’t play me anymore. I’m not like the others. This is over. Don’t call me or talk to Tatum through the TV anymore. Leave us alone. Goodbye, Xavier Trayce.”

  As I pulled the phone away from my ear, I heard, “Elle, Elle, wait. Let’s talk about this. Elle…”

  Click.

  Done.

  My stomach twisted and churned. I collapsed in a heap on my bed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I sat at my desk at the TV station in Denver, lost in thought. A week had gone by since I’d told Zave goodbye. Several pictures had appeared in the news. Photos of Zave with Rhonda either clinging to his arm staring up at him with an adoring puppy-dog-look or standing nearby in the background of one of his after-game interviews. He had called and texted me numerous times. I finally blocked his number and erased the voice messages without listening to them. My heart couldn’t take any more of this. I didn’t want to be played any more, and it was over. I didn’t trust men, and I certainly didn’t trust him.

  Tatum asked about him, but I always told her he had basketball games to play and was a very busy man. I assured her each time that she and I were a team of our own and then distracted her with other things.

  One night at bedtime, she asked how come he didn’t call her anymore. A lump rose in my throat, and I snuggled her close as I scrambled for something to say that was true but wouldn’t break her heart…like mine. Finally, I said, “You know, Tatum, Tree is a very famous man and has many people all around him and has so many things to do. I think he got too busy.” The voice in my head added, “He’s too busy with somebody else, not us.”

  “Noelle? Mel wants to see you.” I shook my head to clear it from my sad thoughts and looked up at Freddy as he stumbled by my desk carrying a load of camera equipment.

  “Thanks, Freddy.” Good. I needed a new assignment to take my mind off Zave.

  ****

  “You want me to what?” I asked incredulously. My heart pounded and I fisted my hands. “Mel—um, I don’t—uh, cover the big sports stories in Denver.” I stopped talking. I knew I was rambling.

  Mel looked at me in surprise. I had never hesitated accepting a story assignment before.

  “Look, I know it’s a Friday night, so yes, it would be overtime, but Mandy has pneumonia and won’t be able to be part of the ‘Andy and Mandy Sports Team.’ You’re my best reporter, so I’m giving you the opportunity.” Mel gave me his sweet, grandfatherly smile of encouragement.

  “But I haven’t ever covered sports. I mean, I’m not really a sports reporter.” The thought of having to cover the Denver Nuggets game…which meant being in the reporting spotlight around Triple X’s huge spotlight, made my stomach quake.

  “Look, Noelle. You’re a reporter. Reporters report. You know how to do that, and you do it well. Just enjoy the game and then report.” Mel’s voice had changed to his “I’m the boss” voice that booked no argument.

  “You and Andy have seats in the second row, center court. Relax and look at it as the plum assignment it is. I know you’ll do great. Thank you, and…you’re welcome.” Mel turned and walked back into his office.

  He must have thought it was nerves. He was only partly right. It was nerves, stomach, head, and heart.

  All week long I dreaded Friday, which of course, made it come faster. I had reserved the corporate condo in case I was too exhausted to drive home. I dropped Tatum off at Joy’s for the night.

  Joy gave me a long hug, almost bringing me to tears again, and told me to hang in there. We Frost ladies were tough, and I would get through this night.

  As I drove to Denver, my stomach knotted up every time I thought of seeing Zave. I figured watching him play was going to be rough. I knew that more often than not he was interviewed after the game. I planned to maneuver it so that Andy did that interview. It was too soon to come face to face with that man. I always felt better in tough situations when I had a plan, so now I had my plan and decided I could make it work.

  Mel had given me Saturday off, since I was covering the game Friday night. I forced myself to change gears and focused on the fun things Tatum and I had scheduled for tomorrow after her gymnastics.

  Images of Zave kept popping into my mind in spite of my efforts to block them out.

  “Go away.” I ordered him out of my head. Another happy Zave memory showed itself, and I gave up. It was going to be a rough night.

  I met Andy at the station, and we took a CBS 4 vehicle. I sat quietly as we drove and wasn’t good company, but Andy didn’t seem to mind.

  He loved sports, especially basketball, so he talked about who was favored to win and which player would match up best with players on the opposing team. The stats this man knew were mind-boggling.

  I was grateful for his chatter.

  We made our way to our seats, greeting a few other reporters on the way. There was Verlayne Sample, the blue-haired Denver Nuggets’ most fanatical fan.

  She squealed when she saw me and gave me a big squeeze. She asked me something, probably about how Zave and I were doing, but I couldn’t hear her over the music blasting from the sound system in the jumbotron up in the highest reaches of the Pepsi Center.

  I slumped in my seat and pretended to read the program as my stomach throbbed in rhythm to music. A picture caught my eye; there was Zave, grinning into the camera, his green eyes even more brilliant because of his flushed face. He looked so good. My heart pounded in my chest.

  I couldn’t keep beating myself up for falling for this guy. Any woman would. Next time I thought I was starting to like a guy, I’d hire an investigator first thing, to see if he is a no-good cheater. Yes, that’s what I’d do. Good, I had a plan. I was now going to sit up and enjoy the game, like my boss told me to.

  The lights dimmed. My heel bounced up and down on the floor, and I clutched my hands tight.

  The crowd roared and stomped their feet. It was time for the team to make their Hollywood-like entrance. The disco-mirrored ball reflected streaks of light around the cavernous arena as the players jogged out of their tunnel.

  As much as I tried to avoid it, my eyes searched until they found number thirteen. The memory of him telling me, “I wanted to kiss you from the first moment I saw you on August thirteenth,” brought a new dagger slash to my heart.


  “Stop it, Elle. No more thinking about stuff like that,” I scolded myself. No one around seemed to notice.

  Zave, in the flesh, stood about twenty feet away. It was dark in the stands so I was sure he couldn’t see me. I was torn between sadness and sweet memories. Sitting there was so much like that night I’d gone to his game, followed by dinner, dancing, and…kissing. It had been amazing to spend time with him. I’d really felt that he was different.

  “Put it aside, Elle.” I said out loud. “Enjoy the game,” I repeated over and over again as I wrung my hands.

  “What are you saying, Noelle?” Andy hollered over the noise.

  “Oh, nothing.” I smiled at him.

  A local high school band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

  Zave stood at attention with his hand over his heart. He’d told me how much he loved our country and one of his favorite things about the games was the chance to honor our flag at the beginning. That had added to all the things I admired about him.

  A lump grew in my throat, and an unwanted tear escaped down my cheek. I had wanted him to be the one.

  After the cheers, the full arena lights went up. I watched him run onto the floor when the announcer boomed the starters’ names. The crowd went wild chanting, “X, X, X, X…”

  “Keep it together, Elle. He can’t see you. He’ll be focused on the game,” I assured myself out loud. Just in case, I leaned back in my seat and placed my large, purple floppy purse on my lap in an attempt to protect my heart. I opened my program and peeked over the top.

  “Snow cones,” a vender hollered from the aisle.

  “Want one?” Andy turned to me.

  “Sure. Half cherry, half blue raspberry, please.” My comfort food, and I sure needed comfort right now. Plus eating one would help hide my face.

  “You want two?” Andy looked confused.

  “No, one—half cherry, half blue raspberry.” I grinned at him like it was normal.

  “Okey-dokey.” Andy called out my order and then a grape one for himself.

  “Here you go, Noelle. Isn’t this the greatest job in the world, sitting here eating snow cones and watching the Nuggets play?” Andy was like a little kid on Christmas Day.