by Sierra Rose
“Not that I know of.”
“Great. My dad doesn’t hate accountants, margaritas, indecisive people or ponytails so you’re safe there. I think we’re in the clear.”
“That’s too simplistic. I appreciate what you did there, but life is way more complex than that. Your dad’s my boss.”
“So what, Britt? How is that a deciding factor? He doesn’t get a vote on who I decide to be with. If he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me. Which he won’t because he doesn’t want me to run off to New Zealand and run a damn bar which is how my brother reacted to his demands.”
“I have to live in the context of my job and my friends. We don’t just exist in a vacuum. People will think that I’m trying to get ahead at work by sleeping with you.”
“That’s insulting to us both. You’re a competent professional and you could just as easily be with me because I’m incredible in bed.”
“You are incredible in bed, and on the couch, too, but that’s not the point. The point is, it casts me in a bad light, my professional integrity and reputation are important to me.”
“Am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Important to you,” he finished bleakly.
“Yes, of course you are!”
“Then the problem is just something you’re manufacturing to push me away,” he declared.
“No, I have legitimate concerns that you refuse to acknowledge.”
“I know exactly how to fix this. We go public. When I get back, we’re going out, having dinner with my dad, getting it out in the open so you don’t feel like you have to keep it a secret. I know that bothers you. Then we can settle in and start just enjoying each other, no stress.”
“We can just talk about this when you get back, okay? I don’t want to keep having this fight.”
“We’re not fighting. We’re discussing energetically.” He pointed out with a half-hearted laugh.
“Good night, Jack,” she said and rang off.
Then she finished the caramel corn. The entire bag.
Chapter 9
The next day, she actually dodged into the ladies room to avoid seeing Phillip Fitzsimmons, Jack’s father and her boss. He was rounding the corner and she ducked in to the bathroom to keep from running into him. Somehow she felt conspicuous, like he could look at her and know she was involved with his son. Hiding out in the bathroom, she peered closely at her reflection in the dusty mirror. Time to pluck her eyebrows again, she thought, and it might be time to start coloring her hair..she could definitely spot more than three grays along her hairline. She smiled, thinking of how Greg said his hair was a huge issue on Tinder. Then she cursed herself for thinking fondly of Greg when she had Jack over in Hong Kong pining away for her and wanting to take her to dinner with his father. His father—the eminent chief operation officer of Creative Consulting. That guy she was hiding in the bathroom to avoid. She groaned aloud at the thought, at all the conflict she’d brought into her own life.
If she hadn’t accepted that margarita at Tamarind weeks ago, if she’d told the waiter shortly to return it to the sender and ignored him, then she’d never have met Jack. At least not until he took a job at his dad’s newest acquisition but then it wouldn’t matter because they wouldn’t already be known to each other—like, biblically. She could flirt with Greg, guilt-free. She could go to work without dreading the sight of her otherwise fairly nice boss. But then she would never have held her phone in awe while Jack played a song he’d written for her. She’d never have had the most tremendous sex of her entire life with him. She’d never have had the nerve to walk out on Chris at that Italian restaurant if she didn’t have the shot of confidence that being with Jack had given her. She wouldn’t be falling in love in spite of all her best efforts to avoid it.
Britt grabbed her phone.
“It’s possible that I’m falling for you,” she messaged him.
“That could be the source of your panic,” he replied almost instantaneously.
“I’m happy I met you. I’m happy I took you home with me. I just haven’t figured out how to fit you into my life yet,” she answered.
“I’m flexible. I’ll fit,” he replied cheekily and she couldn’t help smiling.
She glanced down at her phone and was overcome by the desire to just kiss the touchscreen. She laughed at the impulse and her laugh echoed starkly in the confines of the bathroom. She returned to her desk, working, thinking about how she couldn’t wait to get home so she could call Jack and really talk to him about how she felt, how she’d admitted at last that she felt. The connection with him was too strong to be denied.
At quitting time, she got a text. Smiling, she opened the message expecting Jack. Instead it was Greg reminding her of their ‘coffee date’. She cringed inwardly. She thought about texting him that she couldn’t make it, that she had a meeting, but she thought he deserved better than that. Just then she got a text from Jack. She didn’t reply. The chime jingled again, another message, from Jack again this time. He was asking how her day was. She replied, “ok” and shoved the phone back in her pocket. When he texted back, she ignored it.
She went to the coffee shop. Greg was already seated, his tablet out on the table. He was as cute as she remembered, as easygoing. He smiled when she approached and she couldn’t help feeling a little thrill at how happy he was to see her, how nice his smile was. Her phone buzzed but she ignored it.
“Ready to revolutionize my Tinder profile, gorgeous?” he said, rising and grabbing her in a bear hug.
Britt stiffened and waited for the unexpected hug to end. He pulled back, held her by the shoulders at arm’s length like he was a long lost friend, and proceeded to kiss her on both cheeks. When he released her after this onslaught of affection she subsided into her chair and stared at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I can’t stay.”
“Other remedial daters you need to counsel?” he teased.
“Look, you’re funny. You’re cute. You’re probably a great guy.”
“But?”
“I already have a great guy and I want to hang on to him. So, me being here with you, it isn’t okay. It’s disrespectful on my part, to both of you. I wanted to see you again. You made me feel good about myself and I was lonely and that isn’t a good excuse. I wish you the best of luck.”
“Well, there isn’t a great deal I can say to that.”
“You can say no hard feelings, but only if you mean it.”
“No hard feelings, Britt.” He said magnanimously. “If it doesn’t work out with the other guy you have my number.”
“That’s tempting. I just know what—my boyfriend deserves and it’s one hundred percent. Not ninety percent with the other ten eyeing a back-up plan.”
“Thank you for your honesty. I hate girls that string me along.”
She thought about shaking his hand but decided against it. She went straight home and did some sit-ups to try to atone for all the caramel corn she’d eaten in despair the evening previous. After supper, she had a long shower and felt herself relax. She checked her phone for the time, not wanting to wake Jack up too early just because she missed him. There were three messages and two voicemails in her box. Jack had messaged her, asking if she was really okay, wanting to know what was wrong. The first voicemail was concerned that she might have had an upsetting day. The second was more frustrated, weary even.
“Look, I know you’re off work. I know you’re blowing me off for some reason. Either tell me what it is or let it go, because I’m not enjoying the cold shoulder, Britt. It’s been three hours since you texted me ‘ok’. Clearly something isn’t okay. Out with it,” he had said on the recording.
Britt bit her lip in annoyance with herself. She had been so proud of clearing the air with Greg who was really the only person she’d told the whole truth, that she forgot to text Jack back. Shaking her head at herself, she messaged him.
“Sorry. Just forgot to text back
took long shower. RU free to talk?”
Britt held her breath, waiting to hear back. When the display of her phone lit with a call from Jack, she breathed again.
“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding almost giddy to her own ears.
She was just in a better headspace now, she decided. She knew she was falling for him. She’d pushed away the things that were tying her in knots. She wanted to tell him so.
“If the texting gets on your nerves you can say so.” He said grudgingly. She was startled because he was usually so even-keel, so happy to talk to her.
“No, I like getting messages from you. What’s this about?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who wanted to talk to me. For a change.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been busting my ass working extra hours so I could get home to you sooner and I called the first time to tell you that I’ll be home tomorrow. Not next week. Tomorrow. And my girlfriend decided not to answer her phone so I’m sorry if it annoys you that I’m hurt.”
“I just didn’t hear it,” she protested.
“How do you not hear all those texts and calls, Britt? Try a better excuse.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her voice rising. “I’m here now. Can we talk now instead of bitching about the fact I didn’t get your first call?”
“Are you even glad I’m coming home?” he asked bleakly. “I mean, for days you’ve tried to get off the phone with me, you’ve mumbled about being tired, your heart’s not in it. I’m hoping, I’ve been hoping that you’re just lonely, that long distance is hard for you. But maybe this is more than you can do.”
“It’s not. I—Jack, I have to tell you something. When you called earlier, I did hear my phone. I just was meeting someone for coffee.”
“I thought you went with Marj on Thursdays. It’s Friday.”
“I do. I wasn’t with Marj. I was with Greg.”
“Greg,” he said flatly.
“I met him—gosh this is hard!” she sniffed, refusing to let herself cry. “I met him on Tinder.”
“Wow. Are you fucking kidding me? I’m all about getting home to you and you’re cruising Tinder for some ass. I gotta say, Britt, I did not see this coming. Not from you. Not after the way we met.”
She chewed on her lip. She could practically see him running his hands through his hair, his head bowed low.
“It’s not like that. I was playing on Marj’s phone, swiping guys on her Tinder profile. Then I set her up a date with this guy. We were laughing about it and then she told me it was MY profile. She’d posted pictures of me and set me up an account. I was so mad. I messaged the guy and told him we couldn’t meet and then she showed up with him at the coffee shop.
“So you had to blow him off.”
“That was yesterday.”
“And you were with him again today,” he said, his voice colder.
“Yes. I agreed to help him polish his Tinder profile because he wasn’t getting the results he wanted. And then when I got there he hugged me and I just couldn’t. I felt like I wasn’t being...faithful. That was when I knew that you were the only one I want. This is a good thing. It’s a stupid ass way to get there, but it’s a good thing.”
“Okay,” he said with a nearly audible shrug.
“Okay? Like you’re not mad anymore?”
“I’m not thrilled but you explained it. I believe you.”
“I’m getting on Tinder to get rid of my profile. I deleted Greg’s number. I’m in a fight with Marj because she kept setting me up with guys. It’s only partly her fault. I didn’t tell her about you and if I had, she would never have tried to fix me up with anyone. But I’ve never been in a fight with her, not really. I’m –this is what I’m willing to do to be with you. Fight with my best friend. Dump and delete guys in coffee shops. Walk out of an Italian restaurant that doesn’t have organic water.” She said, talking as fast as she could, hoping he didn’t hang up.
“What Italian restaurant?”
“The one down from Tamarind. I went there with...someone Marj and I met at Silver Rain.”
“Shit. You’ve been dating. You’ve been picking up guys and making dates and pretending like everything’s fine with us.”
“It is fine. It wasn’t for a while but now it is. I’ve got my head together. I’m ready to do this, to be with you, really with you. The whole thing with Marj, I was just dying to talk to you about it. Not just anyone but with you specifically because I talk to you more and—realer, I guess, than anyone else. And I couldn’t because Marj couldn’t know about you and you couldn’t know about Marj’s quest to set me up. So my thing is, I want to be really up front with you and tell you everything from now on. Please,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Please.”
“Don’t say that to me,” he said, his voice less cold, thicker as if with emotion.
“Why not?”
“Because the only other time you’ve ever said please to me, we were in my bed. I can’t think of that right now, of how close we were or how close I thought we were.”
“Please, Jack,” she said. “I’ve told you the truth. Now you can tell me whatever you’ve been up to. No recriminations, I promise.”
“Is that what you think I want? General amnesty? I don’t want permission to cheat on you. I don’t want to be told to tell you the truth because I already have. I’ve been working. I think about you and talk to you and message you and it’s like my whole consciousness is so full of you that there’s no room to understand what you just told me. That in my—heart I’ve been with you this whole time and you’ve been with whoever, I don’t really give a shit who they were or how many there were. It matters that they exist, that there were guys you thought were a better shot for you or someone who was more available or somehow more of what you wanted.”
“That’s not it at all. I was trying to be...fake. I was so stuck on hiding us and the fact that I’m with you that I spent all this stupid time and energy trying to pretend I was single so energetically. It was such a waste of effort. You were right. I should’ve been honest from the start. I’m sorry. Please don’t quit me. Please.”
“I can’t stand it when you say please, you know that.”
“That’s why I’m saying it. I’m wicked that way,” she said, attempting a bit of levity. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll buy you a margarita and welcome you back in style. When do you get in?”
“I’ll call you. It may be late.”
“I don’t care if it’s late or early. I just care that I get to see you,” she said.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
“Come straight here. Come to my apartment,” she said.
“Bossy,” he accused in a joking manner and she giggled, feeling some of the knot of misery start to loosen.
“Am I forgiven?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure you will be,” he said affectionately.
Chapter 10
Britt spent the next morning in a flutter, working out, deep conditioning her hair and then deciding that made it too limp and washing it all over again. She painted her nails. She rubbed self tanner on her legs and checked her butt in the mirror and did a few squats just for good measure. She wanted this to be a reunion to remember, but she kept having to swat away doubts. What if he wouldn’t forgive her? What if he just wanted to get her hopes up and then dump her right to her face? What if he didn’t like her as well now as he did before? She was pretty sure they were all junior high concerns, unworthy of a grown woman with an incredible boyfriend. A man who had finished up a major work project early just to come home to her sooner. A man who wanted to be with her so much that he put up with her moods and made her laugh and sent her a good luck troll just to make her smile. He was a keeper and she’d nearly thrown it all away.
Britt made a list of what she wanted to do to show him how much he meant to her. First, they’d go to Tamarind and have a nice dinner. She’d hang on his every word and learn al
l about his trip to Hong Kong. She had loved hearing him talk about India the night they’d met so this would be fascinating, especially since she’d get to see the enthusiasm transform his face as he talked passionately about his travels. Then they’d get the dessert sampler like last time but she wouldn’t poach the chocolate. He could have the chocolate, all of it if he wanted. They’d go back to her apartment and she would open a bottle of wine...wine, she had to go get wine! She hurried down to the corner shop and bought a bottle. She looked at the vintage he’d ordered at the Ocean Club on their date but it was six hundred dollars so she went with a nice thirty-dollar bottle of merlot. She added some cheese and some succulent looking red grapes to her basket, along with some good dark chocolate squares—rich, decadent tastes to complement the wine and set the stage for some decadent reunion as well. Smiling, she tossed a box of condoms in her basket as well.
She put fresh sheets on the bed. She debated whether buying flowers would make the apartment look more welcoming or just make him suspicious that Greg might have sent them to her. She decided against the flower idea for that reason. Britt spent the afternoon trying on and discarding practically everything her closet contained. The tight blue dress from the night they’d met was too obvious, almost too much like a costume with built-in expectations. She had enough expectations for both of them but she wanted to wear something fresh. He’d already seen her best dress and her designer tunic. She picked through her closet distastefully.
Britt tried on every dress she had, then moved on to the skirts. She had a black one that, strictly speaking, was the bottom half of her interview suit, but it looked nice enough that she could wear it with some heels and a sparkly top. She picked the pink one with the cold shoulder sleeves. It had sort of a disco feel that lent an edge to her otherwise career-oriented polyester skirt. Stacking bangles on one arm, she surveyed her reflection with satisfaction and then checked her phone for the hundredth time. At last she just called him.
“Hey, stranger. When do you land?”
