Make You Miss Me

by Celeste, B.

  With his free hand, he pulls me along with him, shooting looks at the few people who nudge me to get by and nodding at others who seem to know him by name before we stop at a small two-person table in the back corner. Then he does something no other man has.

  He pulls out my chair for me.

  When it takes me a few moments to sit down, amusement flickers in his eyes and curls his lips before he pushes the chair in and walks over to the other side. “See your friends yet?” he asks, his voice not as loud now that we’re in a quieter section.

  My eyes do another scan, but I’m too short to see past the people standing around. “I don’t think so. They’ll find me. What about your friend? Somebody you served with?”

  He nods. “Someone I used to know. It’s been a while.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Fletcher stares off. “Too long.” His eyes narrow. “Not long enough.”

  I try not to dissect his vague response or the way his jaw ticks. “Sorry if I’m prying.”

  His sigh comes next. “You’re not. It’s hard seeing people from back then. A lot has changed over the years. Me the most.”

  “Were you close with him?”

  A shoulder lifts as his fingers wrap around the bottle in front of him. “I wouldn’t say we were great friends or anything, but we had our moments. It was like that with a lot of the men.”

  “Rank didn’t matter to you?” Hunter usually hung out with people he worked the most with, others in his rank. Last I heard from hometown gossip, he was about to be promoted to Staff Sergeant.

  The man across from me shakes his head, swiping a palm down his stubbled jaw. I’d noticed the shadow he was growing out last time we saw each other but didn’t ask if he was growing it out. Some men couldn’t pull facial hair off. Hunter and his baby face was one of them, but Fletcher…

  “The way I see it, there’s always going to be somebody ranked higher and lower than you. I didn’t necessarily have many friends there, but brothers in arms around my age that I knew I could depend on. That was enough for me.”

  His answer is exactly what I expect it to be, which is nothing like how my ex would have replied. It’s dignified.

  The way he shifts in his seat in some form of discomfort tells me to move on, so I pick up my wine and swirl it. “Nicki has been missed this week. Traci made sure to email me asking for his homework assignments to be collected for when he’s better.”

  His eyes finally come back to me. “When she called me on Sunday, I’d wanted to pick him up, but he wanted her.” His voice sounds…off. Hurt. “From what she told me, he’s doing better. Could’ve gone back to school today, but she wanted to keep him at home for an extra day. Give him the weekend to fully recover.”

  I reach out, touching his hand. He stiffens before loosening, flipping his hand, and capturing my fingers. Looking from our linked hands on the table to his face, I smile. “I always wanted my mom when I was sick too. Most kids are like that, boy or girl. Have you seen him?”

  A nod. “I went to see him last night. Trace didn’t want me to risk catching anything before he was acting like himself again. I brought Admiral and watched them play.”

  “Sounds like he’s definitely better then.”

  Whatever shadowed his features before lightened with the remark. “Barely anything can get between that boy and his dog. Did I ever tell you how we got Admiral?”

  I shake my head.

  He leans back, looking a lot more carefree than he did as he takes a sip of his beer before chuckling. “I’d just moved to the house, and Nicki had come over and picked out his room for when he would stay there—this was a while before we decided to move him in and change districts. We were walking into town to do some shopping for a few things I didn’t have when we passed the pet store.” A smile quirks at my lips, remembering Nicki’s insistence on helping me pick out a dog. “He saw the puppies through the window. Before I knew it, he was running inside. Admiral walked right up to him and started licking his hands, trying to climb out of the playpen he was in with the other dogs to get to Dominic.”

  Fletcher’s head shakes as he remembers the memory. “When the owner of the store let me pick him up, damn dog pissed all over me. Marked his territory and made Dominic laugh louder than he had in…a long time before then. When I heard that, I knew we had to get him. He was our dog, and he chose us for a reason.”

  Warmth cascades over me, and it’s not because of the alcohol flowing through my system. “Some things are destined to be in our lives,” I tell him softly.

  He looks at me, then at our hands.

  And squeezes.

  “I’m inclined to agree, honey.”

  One drink becomes two as the conversation flows, then three after the second drinks are finished sometime later. He orders us food that we split, tells me about the early years of his military career, and almost two hours later, he leans forward, brushes his thumb against my lip in the softest, most intimate caress I’ve ever felt, before he murmurs, “You had a crumb…”

  I swallow.

  His eyes stare at my mouth.

  And I want to tell him to kiss me.

  Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

  But then his focus trail to something behind me, and the hope deflates in my chest.

  “The person I’m meeting just walked in.” His eye twitches as he leans back, staring at the watch always perched on his wrist. If he takes it off, there’d be tan lines even in the winter, but even those tan lines would be darker than my pale skin. “I’d ask if you want to join us, but…”

  Nibbling my lip, I look at my nearly empty glass of wine. I’m a little disappointed he doesn’t want me to but choose to let it go for now. “I guess I should go anyway. I don’t think my friends ended up coming.”

  And I’m not that upset about it either.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Your friend—”

  “Made me wait this long to grace me with his presence,” he grumbles coolly. “He can wait for a little while longer while I walk my girl to her car. As long as you’re okay to drive.”

  “It takes more than two and a half glasses of wine to get me drunk, Lieutenant Colonel.”

  His eyes narrow.

  “Sir,” I tease.

  We walk to the door, his hand lifting from where it rested on my lower back and toward the direction of the bar to let his friend know to give him a minute before we head to my car parked in a decent spot, considering how many people were here when I arrived.

  Stopping at the car door, I look up at him. “I had fun tonight, even if my friends ditched me.”

  He gives me a small smile. “I’m glad they did. Maybe we can have a second date somewhere quieter.”

  I blink. “This was a date?”

  Fletcher laughs, reaching forward and taking loose strands of hair, and brushing them out of my face. “Not a good one if you have to ask.”

  My face heats. “I just meant…” I heft out a little laugh myself. “We’ve already had more than two by now in my mind. The dinners you’ve cooked me and all that.”

  His eyes darken, scoping out my face. “Is that right?”

  Slowly, I nod.

  His hand stays on my face, fingers dancing along my jawline and chin. “Then let me take you on another. Somewhere nice, just the two of us. I know a place.”

  In a breathy tone, I whisper, “Okay.”

  Sucking in a short breath when he leans down, I let my eyes close as his lips brush against my cheek. They linger for a moment, then two, before moving to my forehead and disappearing altogether.

  “Goodnight, Stevie.” He opens the door for me, then closes it when I’m safely inside with my keys in the ignition.

  Rolling down the window, I reply, “Good night.”

  He waits until I drive away before walking back inside the bar.

  And all I can wonder is, why didn’t he kiss me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I shoot the
two women a narrowed gaze when I show up at the community center that holds our yoga class and get unapologetic grins back from both Vickie and Sonia. Ever since the two met at the winter carnival, they’ve been thick as thieves, making our usual twosome a very energetic and mischievous threesome. “You ditched me,” I accuse, holding open the door for them and following them inside.

  Our mats are all tucked under our arms, and we’re all in some form of yoga attire. I know when Vickie strips off her coat, she’ll be in a tight sports bra that shows off her impressive, perky C-cups and tight pants that hug her bubble butt and curvy hips. She always winks at the older guys who come in and set up next to where we do, and I’m pretty sure the only reason they attend these classes is because of my flirty friend. Sonia has only been to one other class, but we decided then it’d be a good way for all of us to hang out and relax after long weeks since the classes are always on Sunday mornings. Unlike Vickie, Sonia and I usually wear something a little more modest. I can’t speak for my coworker, but I just don’t have the confidence to wear what Vickie does. There’d be a little too many rolls on view in plenty of the poses.

  “We didn’t ditch you,” my best friend says, unzipping her jacket once we set out mats down in our usual spots by the door.

  Sonia nods. “We were trying to get your attention because you weren’t texting us back.”

  “But then,” Vickie continues, a grin stretching her lips until she looks like the Joker’s demented sister, “we saw a certain man take you to the bar and buy you a drink.”

  “And we couldn’t interrupt.” Sonia gives me a knowing look. She’s seen Fletcher at the school a handful of times by now and knows who his son is. “You totally lied when you said there wasn’t a man, by the way. I knew I wasn’t losing my touch.”

  Vickie pauses what she’s doing to glare at me. “You told her about him before me?”

  “No, I didn’t tell her anything.”

  “Because she lied,” my coworker confirms.

  I sigh at their dramatics. “I didn’t lie.” I peel off my jacket and set it against the wall with my bag. “There wasn’t anything going on when you asked. There still isn’t. We had drinks and talked.” And have had dinner and hung out. “I’d hardly call that anything special.”

  Even though deep down, there’s a flutter in my stomach over the possibility of it. Especially after how we left each other. He’d asked me on a date. A proper one.

  Both girls eye me down as I roll out my mat and sit cross-legged on the end of it. “Stop looking at me like that,” I grumble.

  “We’re just trying to figure out when you’re going to realize that you’re being a little chickenshit.” That comes from Vickie, making our other companion snort, but not disagree.

  I click my tongue. “I’m not being a chickenshit.”

  Neither says a thing.

  “I’m not!”

  Vickie sets her mat up and sits down next to me, giving me a weird look. “Fine, let’s say you’re not. But you are holding yourself back. I want you to be happy.” She gestures toward Sonia, who’s joined us on the floor. “We both do. And we know that you’ve been struggling, so we want to make sure that you’re not isolating yourself just because you’re afraid of getting hurt again. It could happen, but you know what you want and what you don’t. You’ve learned from the past, right?”

  I give her a tiny nod.

  “Then don’t hold yourself back. If you want to like Fletcher, then like him. You don’t need to lie or act like you don’t, especially not to us. We’re going to support you with whatever you choose. We just hope you choose to get dicked every now and again.”

  Sonia nods enthusiastically when a couple of snickers and knowing grins come from some of the guys walking in. My face turns red since it’s obvious they heard. And it doesn’t help when Vickie turns to them, puts on her flirty smile, and bats her lashes, and asks, “Am I right, boys?”

  To nobody’s surprise, they agree.

  I mutter, “I hate you sometimes.”

  She shoves my arm. “Stop lying to yourself, bitch. You love me and my foul mouth and amazing advice.”

  It’s true.

  Unfortunately.

  I know who the woman is that’s standing at my classroom door even though we’ve never met before. But it takes one look at her to see the same soft features that a little boy who sits front and center in my room every day has. Dominic definitely doesn’t get the softness from his dad, even if he gets plenty of other traits from him.

  “Ms. Foster? Stevie Foster?” the woman asks, smiling with big red lips. She has pin-straight black hair that goes well past her shoulders and colorful tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of her black peacoat jacket that go up her hand. I never let myself wonder too hard about what Nicki’s mom looked like or what Fletcher’s type was. Because if he has one, he’s definitely wasting his time with me after being with this beautiful woman with long legs, lean body, and perfectly done makeup that’s standing in my classroom doorway.

  The woman in chunky heeled boots that are tucked into her black jeans walks forward when I offer her a smile and say, “That’s me.”

  Instead of sticking her hand out, she opens her arms and wraps me in a tight hug the second I stand up to greet her, getting a startled “oh” from me that makes her laugh as she squeezes one more time before letting go.

  “Sorry, I’m a hugger,” the ex-wife of the man I may or may not be interested in dating tells me.

  When she steps away, I laugh too. “I see that. It’s nice to meet you finally.”

  Her smile widens, going all the way up to her eyes. “I’m Traci Spellman, but I guess you already know that.”

  “Dominic looks a lot like you.”

  If she could beam anymore, she does with that compliment. “I don’t hear that very often. People say he takes after his father more.”

  I shrug, trying to be casual over the topic of Fletcher. “It probably depends how much time they spend around Nicki.”

  “And his parents,” she adds, her smile wavering with amusement.

  I clear my throat. “Is there something I can help you with? I made sure Dominic got all of his assignments yesterday, and I’m sure his dad will help him if he needs it. But, of course, he knows he can come to me too.” Because speaking to this woman, who seems nothing but kind in the way she smiles and carries herself with confidence, makes me nervous, I feel the need to blurt, “I mean Nicki. He knows he can come to me for anything he needs. I made sure to let him know that when he came back since there may be things that he doesn’t quite understand from our lessons that he missed.”

  Her laugh is featherlight, not quite matching her exterior. Even though she exuberates a gentleness, her tattoos and dark yet elegant style screams biker chick. I’m a little envious. “I know what you meant, Ms. Foster.”

  “You can call me Stevie.”

  “I was actually having a meeting with the principal about Nicki. She just wanted to make sure everything was going well, especially since he missed an entire week. But, as you said, I know the school will ensure he catches up without complaint.”

  There’s no doubt about that. “He’s a very smart kid. So, I don’t think there will be any issues with him catching up.”

  Her eyes go from me to around the classroom to the window that has open blinds looking out the yard, then back at me. “I was sorry I missed conferences you hosted, but I got the letter about there being the end-of-year parent-teacher meetings that I hope I can come to. I’m sure Fletcher wouldn’t mind a tagalong.”

  “We’d love to have you both,” I offer kindly. “Not that there’s much to talk about. Thankfully, we have great students this year. Nicki has been making friends with very few setbacks. And like I mentioned, he’s smart. A wonderful student all around.”

  The humming noise she makes has me shifting my weight from one foot to another. Compared to her, I feel slightly underdressed in my gray work pants, purple button-down, and black flats. B
ut with a meeting after school, I knew I needed something a little out of my norm since I’d be around the administration and other faculty.

  “I like you,” Traci states firmly. “And I can see why my son and ex-husband do too. You’ve got that face.”

  Not sure what she means, I reply with a slightly weak, “Thank you.” It’s a moment before I add, “I like them both too.”

  The flicker of amusement is back. “This isn’t really my place,” she says quietly, the words making me stand a little taller in alert. “But I just wanted to meet you and see if you’re as great as the men in my life say you are. Because they deserve the very best, and I’d hate to have Fletcher settle for anything less than that.”

  My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, weighted down by my uncertainty and heat under her strong gaze as she studies me with a watchful eye that’s less friendly and more serious, like a warning.

  “Fletch is…well, you know by now. He’s not always an easy man to please. He’s closed off and quiet and too stubborn for his own good most of the time. He looks at certain things like his duty, and I know from personal experience what that feels like. It’s not fun to feel like somebody’s responsibility, especially when you never asked to be. I’ve been worried that he’d find himself in a similar situation he did with me. Maybe not involving a kid—” Her smile becomes a little smaller, a little more sympathetic. “—but similar in the sense that he’s old-fashioned. Stuck in his ways.”

  The sigh that leaves her loosens her shoulders as she looks around my room again, noting the various posters, drawings, and other creations that students have done since the beginning of the school year. “All I want is for him to be happy. Both of them. And it’s not hard to see that they are. The way he talks about you…”

  “Dominic?” I ask, genuinely confused. I know Fletcher has said that Nicki comes home and talks about his days at school, so it’s not a far-off guess.

  But Traci shakes her head, those painted lips curling upward slightly at the corners. “Not Nicki,” is how she answers.