Normally, I’d be hesitant to admit this to her, or any woman, but with Amanda, the lover of jigsaw puzzles with the beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes, I’m not. In fact, I have never felt more comfortable on a date.
“Time to cash out,” the bartender slips our tab toward us. It’s only then I realize that it’s past midnight, and we are the only two left in the bar.
“Guess it’s time to go,” I say, grabbing my credit card to pay for our drinks.
“You don’t have to… let me chip in,” Amanda says. But I grab her hand before she can reach for her purse.
“I don’t know what kind of dates you’ve been on, but whenever you are with me, you will not pay.”
“Thank you. But I always feel bad having the guy pay all the time. Next time, my treat.”
I smile at her, not knowing if she realizes that she’s just announced we are going to have a second, or is it fourth?, date.
“So, there’s going to be another time?” I say as we walk out of the bar hand in hand. I didn’t even realize I reached for it, but I also notice she hasn’t pulled back.
“I’d like there to be,” she says, though not as enthusiastically as I’d like. “But I need to be upfront with you Ben. I’m not looking for a relationship right now. With anyone.”
I’m confused. She wants to see me again, but doesn’t want this to become a relationship? What is she wanting? She didn’t strike me as a friends-with-benefits girl.
“Can I ask why?”
She shivers, but I don’t know if it’s from the cold or our conversation. I take off my jacket and put it over her shoulders, giving them a rub as she gathers her words.
“Being in a relationship with me right now wouldn’t be fair to you. I work all the time, and my hours are unstable. I work weekends. I could get a text at any minute and I’d have to go to a crime scene. That’s not fair to anyone.”
I smile, which I’m guessing confuses her.
“This is new for both of us. I don’t want you to rearrange your life as we figure out what’s going on between us. But I think you can agree with me that there’s something between us?”
She nods and I link my hands with hers, bringing her a little closer.
“I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend… yet… let’s just… see where this goes. No labels. No expectations. Just exploring what this is between us.”
She looks up at me, a softness in her gaze that I’m not used to. I don’t know if that’s her greenlight, but I know I can’t go one more minute without knowing what Amanda’s lips taste like.
I lean in and she meets me in the middle, our lips finding each other in the sweetest and best first kiss I’ve ever had. Her hands snake around my neck and I put mine on the small of her back, bringing her flush against me.
She tastes like mint and red wine. Her lips are soft, a contradiction to the many hard parts about Amanda. But I’m learning that this woman is a perfect mix of hard and soft. A mix I could become addicted to.
Our lips mold and our tongues dance for who knows how long before she pulls away slowly.
“I like exploring,” she says.
Me too Amanda. Me too.
Chapter 8
Amanda
Fifteen voicemails. Eighty-three emails. Six new files stacked up on my desk.
Hello Monday. Nice to see you too.
Honestly, I’ve had worse. Being a detective in the Organized Crime Division of the Chicago Police Department means the work is never over.
But even watching 10 new emails pop up on my screen as I make my daily to-do list can’t ruin my mood.
I have a job I love. I’ve reconnected with and met new friends who I cherish. And a very attractive, smart, funny man seems to enjoy my company as much as I seem to enjoy his.
Life right now is pretty damn good.
I’m so in a happy zone I don’t even notice the date until I have to sign off on one of my closed cases.
October 16.
I can’t help but smile. This day just keeps getting better.
October 16. Six years ago on this day my life changed forever. The day I was offered a job as a detective.
Being a detective at 26 years old isn’t unheard of, but it’s not exactly common either. I only told people who needed to know that I was taking the detective’s exam. I didn’t want it to be a big thing, especially if I didn’t pass. Heck, my dad didn’t even know and I tell him everything.
And I passed. With flying colors. At that point, I was just waiting for the right spot to open up so I could start on the next chapter of my career.
They say when you take the detective’s exam that even if you do pass, it doesn’t mean you’ll be working in the same precinct that you were on patrol in. No way did I expect that at 26 years old I’d be given my first detective job in Chicago.
But then again, I didn’t think I’d be hired here when I was 22 years old and fresh out of college. But I didn’t look at gift horse in the mouth. I never took a day, or a case, for granted.
I worked my ass off for those four years. There wasn’t a case too big or too small. I proved my worth, so much so that I was asked, along with a few other officers, to help with a case involving racketeering and money laundering.
The illegal money was coming in from drug dealing and being filtered in through a local grocery shop in my old neighborhood on the Southside. Once my connection was known, I was asked to go undercover at the shop, working the counter, to see what kind of information I could get.
The answer? A lot. I saw who was bringing in the money, how it was being moved. I saw every major player and no one was secret about anything. I was able to get so much information that arrests were made just three months into my undercover work.
Six people went to jail. And because of my performance, the superiors in Chicago didn’t want me scooped up, so they offered me a job in the division I’m in now. On October 16.
And the rest is history.
I still don’t take a case for granted. Every time a new file shows up on my desk, it’s another chance for me to solve a puzzle, to right a wrong in the city.
And for years, that’s been enough for me. I truly do love my job. And until these last few weeks, I didn’t realize that something was missing from my life. But being with Ben has showed me that maybe there's more to this life than putting away the bad guys.
Since our first, or fourth date, we still can’t decide, there hasn’t been a day we haven’t spoke or texted. We’ve gone out a few more times, but each night has ended the way that first one did -- in a kiss that melts my toes, but nothing more.
And I want more. In more ways than I’m willing to admit.
I’m not ready for a relationship. In my heart of hearts, I know this. I haven’t had one since I joined the force. I’ve seen one too many relationships and marriages fall apart here under the stresses of the job. The demands are constant, and it’s unfair to the partners.
But every time I’m with Ben, I can’t help but let my daydreams travel a little farther. What would it be like to have someone to come home to every night? To have a partner in life?
Like he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone vibrates on my desk.
Ben: Good morning, beautiful.
How can three words make me smile like a loon?
Me: Good morning to you. Making people money?
We’ve got in the habit of texting each other to begin our workdays. Nothing too deep, just little messages that I think make both of us smile. I know it does for me.
Ben: Of course. Well, I haven’t heard that I’m losing people money, so that’s always good. Arrest anyone yet?
Me: Not yet, but the day is still young.
The day is still young, but I can’t help but think about later in the day when the sun goes down. Usually on my detective anniversary, I take myself out for a nice dinner. A nice glass of wine. While I don’t want to make today a big deal, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to spend tonight in the company of a
man that I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
Me: What are you doing tonight? I’m craving steak. Want to get dinner?
The fact that he doesn’t answer right away is my answer. But even watching the bubbles pop up, then go away, then pop up again, give me more anxiety than I am comfortable with.
Ben: I wish I could. Believe me. But I am actually taking a half day at work and have plans I can’t get out of. Can we rain check for tomorrow?
I sigh, not comfortable with my level of disappointment. We aren’t a couple. We’ve only been out a few times. I’m the one who is adamant that this isn’t a relationship.
So I don’t have the right to be upset that he can’t meet me for dinner on hours notice. I can’t be mad that he’s super vague on the details of what he’s doing. Not being in a relationship means that I don’t get to feel like this.
I’m going to keep telling myself that until tomorrow night.
Chapter 9
Ben
My mom used to tease me when I was growing up that I was a 50-year old man in a 10-year-old body. And that had nothing to do with the fact she dressed me in khakis and sweater vests.
I was a serious kid. Things were black and white. Rules were made to be followed. Lying was wrong. Withholding the truth was just as bad as a lie. Teachers always picked me to watch the class when they had to leave for whatever reason and I never had a detention.
If 10-year-old Ben could see 34-year-old me, he’d tell on me, then go cry in a corner.
The thought makes me laugh as I make the half-hour drive north of the city, one I make once a month for the past two years. I hated not telling Amanda why we couldn’t go to dinner tonight, despite me really wanting to. The fact that she reached out to me didn’t go unnoticed. Usually, I have been the one to initiate all of our communication or the few times we’ve gone out.
I hate that I had to turn her down, but unloading this kind of baggage on her probably isn’t the best move early in our… whatever we are doing. I really don’t know how to say to your new… girlfriend?... that you’re going to see your half brother who is currently serving a 20-year prison sentence in federal prison.
There’s no way that rolls off the tongue easily.
As I pull into the prison and go through the motions of check-in and security that I’ve become used to, I try to remember the circumstances that first brought me here. And what happened in the grand scheme of the world to make me and my half brother have such contrasting paths.
There are a lot of differences between Aiden and I. For one, he’s 12 years older. My father is an amazing man who has loved and cared for his family and helped me in any way I could have ever wanted. His dad is serving a 20-year prison sentence with him.
I’m lean with styled black hair. I work out, but no one will ever call me muscular. As I watch Aiden come into the visitor’s area, I wonder how many times a day he hits the weights. His hair is a few shades lighter than mine but it’s when he sits across from me I see it -- the one similarity we share. We both have our mother’s hazel eyes.
“Is it that time of the month already?” Aiden says. It’s what he says every time I come to visit him. It might be awkward, but how do you start a conversation with your convict brother who you are still getting to truly know?
“It is. You’re looking good. Everything going alright?”
He shrugs, fiddling with his hands. “Same old, same old. How is… how is Mom?”
Each month he is nervous to ask, but he always does. When he first went away, he refused her to come visit him, saying he didn’t want her to see him like that. Or so he has told me. The only reason I’m here is because I wrote to him for months asking to meet. I wanted to know my brother.
We were never close. The first few years of my life we lived in the city, which I have very little memory of. By the time I was starting school, my mom and dad had moved us to the suburbs. She wanted Aiden to come with us, but he was a teenager by that time, and he refused, deciding to stay with his dad and his “friends.”
It’s those friends, and his dad, that have him sitting on the other side of this table.
“She’s good. She and Dad are getting ready for a cruise.”
He nods, not adding anything more. It’s nice that he asks, but the reality is he hasn’t seen her in years.
“Is everything OK?” I ask. He’s normally not very talkative, but this is even stoic for him.
“Been a rough few weeks,” he says. When I look for him to continue he lets out a small huff, knowing I won’t drop it until I’m satisfied.
“Today is my arrest anniversary.”
I sit back, not sure what to say. I didn’t know.
“I remember that day like it was yesterday,” he says unprompted. “It was a normal day, but something was, I don’t know, off. Nothing big, but I just had this weird feeling something was about to go down. And before I knew it, I was being arrested.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need me to say anything, he just needs my ear.
“Want to know the sad thing?”
I nod, urging him on.
“I’m starting to forget little things. Would I recognize Mom if she came here? Do I remember how to drive? I wonder things like this every night.”
This is the part I hate for Aiden. From the little bit he’s told me of his involvement and arrest, he wasn’t given many chances or options to save himself. And now he’s here, serving a 20-year sentence.
I wish I could help him more, and whether he knows it or not, I’m trying to. But he doesn’t know this. Because if I can’t, I don’t want him to know I failed.
“Enough about me and my depressing ass, what’s up with you little brother?”
I don’t mean to, but I can’t help but break out in a smile because the newest part of my life is Amanda, and hell if I don’t smile from ear to ear every time I think about her.
“Ah! Little brother has a lady! That’s the only thing that can make a man smile like that” Aiden shouts, making me laugh. Hell, if my love life gets him out of his funk, then that’s fine by me.
“She’s not my lady. She’s a woman I’m seeing, and it’s very new,” I say, hoping to leave it at that. As I didn’t want to tell Amanda about my brother in prison, I’m not exactly keen on telling him that my maybe girlfriend is a cop.
“It’s new, but you guys have fucked right?”
I nearly choke on my spit. “How is it your business if we have or haven’t?”
“Bro. I need details. I’m locked up with hundreds of dudes, and even if some do, I’m not dropping any soap in the shower.”
I shake my head, not wanting to picture Aiden, or anyone, in that situation.
“We haven’t. But when we do, I’ll make sure to let you know.” I’m not, but I’ll let him think so.
He smiles. “Thanks. I need to make sure that’s not one of the things I forget about.”
Chapter 10
Amanda
Growing up surrounded by boys, slumber parties and princess teas weren’t exactly common occurrences in my life. I had a few girlfriends in school but realized quickly that most girls were caddy bitches.
Then I met Tori, and with her came Scarlett and Annabelle. I was nervous at first, but that lasted about 30 seconds. They made sure it didn’t linger any longer than that.
Now I’m more than excited when I get the message that it’s girls night. Which in their definition means sharing a pizza and a few bottles of wine.
I guess it’s all a matter of finding your squad. Because I’m all for pizza and wine.
Every girls’ night is over at Scarlett’s, which apparently started years ago when she lived in an apartment in the city. At the time her son, Grant, was a toddler and Tori and Annabelle didn’t want to make her get a sitter. Now, Grant just turned five and she has a 1-year-old son, Evan. She says she could leave them with Maverick, but we turn her down every time. While we use the kids as an exc
use, it’s really because they have the best hosting area. I swear their couches are made of clouds.
“How’s the new exhibit?” Scarlett asks Annabelle as we take our seats around the sectional.
“It’s amazing,” Annabelle beams before taking a sip of her wine. “The artist already had a huge Instagram following, so it has been really well received. We’ve sold a few pieces and are working with him on another.”
Hearing my friends talk about their successes makes me smile. While they ask me all the time how things at work are going, I usually give the bare minimum of details. One, most cases are open and I can’t divulge information. Even the ones I can, I don’t know if they’d get excitement by me saying, “Guys! I made two arrests today and I got to use my taser!”
So I usually just sit back and listen, taking in their glow of happiness. And drink wine. Because wine is good.
“And speaking of things being amazing, how is our newest couple?” Tori asks, nudging me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, taking a big bite of pizza hoping to distract from the upcoming line of questioning.
“Don’t make us put the detective under question,” Scarlett says. “Ben. You. Details. Now.”
I look over to Annabelle for help, but she’s sitting back waiting with a smirk on her face, knowing there’s no way on God’s green earth I’m getting out of this.
“There’s not much to report. Things are good. We’ve gone out a few times. That’s about it,” I know it sounds like I’m holding back, but I’m really not.
“That’s it? Come on. There has to be something!” Tori exclaims in frustration.
“Why didn’t you tell me he has tattoos?” I ask, not entirely sure where that question came from but wanting to know just the same.
Scarlett and Annabelle look shocked, but Tori… Tori is looking everywhere but at me. I doubt the lint she is picking on her pants is that interesting.
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