Chase was supposed to arrive with ingredients to cook by six. My hormones were buzzing at thirst level ten by five thirty, totally at odds with my head. Down, girl. He had to prove he could listen and respect my needs first.
Needs. My heart beat a bit faster, thinking about what we could do with a private kitchen. Dinner, not dessert, I admonished myself. Just because I was willing to give him another chance didn’t mean he was going to earn it. However, my girly bits were still frustrated from the previous week, and I could envision them giving me sad puppy eyes, begging for more attention.
I glanced at the clock on my Kindle every few minutes as it got closer and closer to six. I didn’t expect him to arrive early; unless aliens overtook his body, he’d be late. I was banking on at least ten minutes, so I tried not to stress as 6:05 rolled around with no sign of Chase. I got up to stretch and wander past my front window at 6:10, but the lot outside was silent.
I settled back to read and wait, trying not to glance at the clock every few minutes. It became a game—one I was losing. I got up to check my phone, but there were no messages. I settled back with my Kindle, and when my stomach growled, I looked up to see that it was 6:30. No word from Chase. Worst case scenarios flashed, and images of his bent and broken body behind the wheel of his wrecked car filled my mind. Had he gotten in an accident? No one would know to notify me. The image of him hurt haunted me, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Tamra: Are you on your way? Hope everything is okay.
Crickets. No response. No indication that he was typing on the other end. My stomach growled again, so I moved to the kitchen to make myself a snack. I refused to believe he was hurt. Maybe he got tied up. Without notifying you? I shushed the skeptical voice in my head. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he forgot all about you. My inner monologue was a bitch. She sounded too much like my oldest sister. Still, that voice haunted me with the memories of every other time I’d been forgotten.
My forgettability had actually been a running joke in my family. My middle school choir director had my parents on speed dial, they forgot me so often. They’d grown too used to relying on Jennifer to drive me, and I wasn’t as assertive as my siblings when it came to asking for rides with friends.
That old, icky feeling crept under my skin. Disappointment. Was I that forgettable? I pushed the thought aside one more time. Not Chase. He got me. He wouldn’t stand me up this way. Not when he was supposed to be apologizing.
I poured myself a glass of iced tea and cut some cheese to eat with crackers, then settled back on the couch to read. Still no response from Chase. By seven o’clock I was getting worried, and I tried to call. The phone rang and went to his voicemail, and I left a brief message.
“Chase, it’s me. Hope everything’s okay. Call me.”
I debated if it was stalkerish to drive over to his place and make sure he was okay but decided to wait longer.
I gave up on dinner and nibbled on some more cheese and crackers. Watching TV was pointless when I couldn’t stay focused on anything and ended up aimlessly flipping channels. He’d forgotten. Or worse, he’d chosen not to come. Without telling me. Was that worse? Or was being forgotten worse? Really, both sucked equally. I wouldn’t beg for his attention. If he didn’t want me, I was better off alone.
The later it got, the angrier I grew, but I had no outlet for my ire. I debated calling Vicki or Gina to vent, but I still had vague hopes that Chase would have a good explanation.
Good explanation, my ass.
At this rate, only hospitalization was getting him off the hook. I focused on the anger, because it felt good, it felt cleansing. Hidden behind it was a disappointment that I couldn’t bear to face. I’d believed Chase was different. That he saw me. Cared about me. Clearly, I was wrong. My eyes stung, and my throat tightened. That pain was the sting of misjudging his feelings for me. Not the pain of losing him.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I pushed off the couch and put on my shoes. Fresh air couldn’t cure everything, but maybe a breeze would convince me the moisture collecting at the corner of my eyelashes was just dust blowing in my eyes.
“Hey, Tamra.”
I nearly groaned. Eva. The last person on earth I wanted to see. Perfect Eva, with her flawless family and lovely husband. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to project calm to cover the unhappiness.
“Hi, Eva.”
Something about my tone tipped her off, and her eyes narrowed. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “Pretty sure I’ve been stood up.”
Her nose wrinkled, and her brown eyes were sympathetic. “I’m sorry, that sucks.”
“Yeah, yeah, it does. Another sign that I’m completely forgettable. Strange. Awkward.”
Eva snorted, and I glanced her way. Was she laughing at me? Now? I hated her a little more in that moment. It wasn’t her fault her life was perfect, but I couldn’t help resenting her for it.
“I remember those days,” she said, surprising me.
“What days?” I asked.
“The single ones.”
I shook my head. “Come on, you were never single. You came out of the womb with a guy on each arm. One trailing behind to carry your things, and a fourth up front to fetch anything you wanted. Your husband probably fought a duel to the death against a slew of competitors to win your hand. I mean,” I gestured to her body, “look at you.”
She shook her head, and her lips twisted. “Not true.”
“Bull,” I scoffed.
She laughed. “No, really. My parents were strict, and I was shy. I wasn’t allowed to date. By the time I did, my peers were light-years ahead of me in experience. Every date ended badly.”
“For instance?”
Maybe it was ghoulish of me but reliving her pain might ease mine.
“I had a date ditch me at a restaurant,” she said.
My mouth rounded. “No, way. What an asshole.”
She laughed. “Yeah. I can laugh at it now, but at the time, not so much.” She looked at me in the gloom. “Maybe someday you’ll laugh about this one.”
I shook my head, rubbing my chest. “Ah, I don’t think so. Not this one.”
She shrugged. “Then he’s the one missing out.” She winked at me. “After all, I only surround myself with top-shelf strange.”
We wished each other a good night, and I smiled as I went back inside. Talking with Eva had soothed some of the restlessness that had prompted me to go outside. Chase may be a jerk, but my neighbor was not. I’d underestimated Eva. Her kindness was the balm my soul needed. She reminded me that friends could fill your heart with a different kind of glow when disappointment hit. True friends offered the warmth of acceptance and support. I needed to try harder to be a friend to her.
I was contemplating turning out the lights for bed when my phone finally lit up with a call from Chase. Nervous that it might be emergency personnel or a friend calling to tell me something terrible had happened, I answered tentatively, “Hello?”
“Tamra. I’m glad you’re still awake. I’m so sorry about tonight.”
It was Chase’s voice on the phone, and he didn’t sound mortally wounded. I went from fearful to furious in record time. “What happened to you?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the emotion out of my voice.
He sighed. “I’m so sorry. I got wrapped up in my writing and lost track of time.”
I looked at the phone in my hand. After midnight. WTF. I guess that told me how important I was to him. Seriously? I shook my head, unsure how to respond. There was suspecting you didn’t matter to someone, and there was having it confirmed. I hit “end” on the call, hanging up on him. In a fit of pique, I navigated to the block option on his contact in my phone and confirmed the action. There, done. We’d see who was forgettable.
That night I tossed and turned, trying to come up with more tolerable reasons for Chase to stand me up. He had explosive food poisoning. Okay. Car breakdown along the side of the road and a dead cell phone. Acceptab
le. Unanticipated kitchen fire resulting in hospitalization for smoke inhalation. Absolutely. Nowhere in my list was fictional people were more exciting and interesting than you. I got enough of that kind of rejection and antipathy from my family, I didn’t need it in my romantic relationships too.
The next day I received a text message from Vanessa, and it was a welcome distraction.
Vanessa: Can you meet me for lunch this week? We didn’t get to spend much time together at the wedding. I’ll get a sitter and everything.
Tamra: Sure, sis. I have Thursday off if you want to meet up then? I did some switching around this week with another nurse.
It felt good to have something to look forward to and kept me from thinking about Chase. Or at least that’s what I told myself. Over, and over, and over ... I’d blocked his contact on my cell phone, but that didn’t stop him from trying to contact me via Twitter. He sent me a direct message apology note, reiterating that he was sorry that he let himself get swept away in writing, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my anger.
When messages didn’t work, he even tried to sway me with gifts. At work, for the first time ever, I received flowers instead of a patient. The peachy roses tipped with red were gorgeous. I didn’t need the card to know he chose them because I’d admitted they were my favorite while admiring my sister in law’s bouquet at the wedding. If the flowers had been for any other reason, I would have been touched at the thoughtfulness, but considering the situation, I was unmoved.
Gina was firmly Team Tamra. “Men. The one thing duct tape can’t fix. I can’t believe he forgot about you. I can understand why you’re insulted. He’s clearly not worthy.”
She offered to take the flowers to another department, and I took her up on it. I didn’t need the reminder.
When I got home that night, there was a cooler on my doorstep. I was immediately wary, but also curious. Peering inside, I got a hardcore hit of chocolate from the tiny ramekins of mousse inside. I moaned when I saw the other dishes he’d packed. The desserts smelled delicious, and it pained me to throw them and the other food away, but I was standing firm on principle. I unblocked his number to make my point.
Tamra: Stop with the food and gifts. No more, please.
I blocked his number again and hoped that would be the end of it.
I didn’t expect to be the first or only thing in my boyfriend’s life, but I expected him to at least show up when we had plans. If he couldn’t follow through on a simple dinner date, how could I trust him with my body or my heart?
Chapter 25 - Chase
WORDS FLOWED FROM MY fingertips, through the keyboard, and bloomed on my monitor. I was in the zone. It felt amazing. The book was practically writing itself. It helped that I had endless inspiration in Tamra. I was trying not to make it too autobiographical, but was failing. Miserably. Every word was a love letter to her. I waxed philosophical on her curls for two whole pages, which would have to be edited down later, but I couldn’t stop myself.
It felt like no time had passed, but I checked my manuscript word count and I’d hit 20,000. I had started the day at around 15,000, so I wasn’t sure where the burst of creativity came from. Liar. I knew exactly where it came from, a certain brunette. A mixture of pride and uncertainty swirled inside me, an inevitable feeling that followed a strong writing day. Maybe it was all total crap?
My main characters were suspiciously familiar, a male romance novelist and a female nurse. The nurse, Tina, was calm in a crisis yet caring. Yeah, I really stretched myself naming her.
Tina had an inner beauty that shone in her hazel eyes. Her kindness was displayed in her smallest actions, like fixing a perfect cup of tea for her coworker. She was pragmatic to a fault and difficult to rattle. But that mouth. Luscious, and when it opened, blunt statements rolled out that could give a man whiplash. Tamra, I mean Tina, was everything.
Clearly, I was thinking about Tamra while writing Tina’s character. I was so used to my own mental jumps that Tamra’s didn’t strike me as odd. If anything, I liked that her mind jumped like mine. I could say what I was thinking, and she seemed to do the same.
It was freeing to be myself. I hadn’t realized how much of my awkwardness was driven by the sense that I was playing a role. Like I’d been wearing a sport coat two sizes too small. Trying to fit a certain mold increased my social anxiety to a point that I couldn’t function or think on my feet, and I gave in to my worst impulses. Not having that pressure when I was with Tamra made all the difference. Conversation flowed. Sometimes it flowed over a cliff, but the destination didn’t matter when we arrived together.
I refocused on my document. Writing a much more satisfying conclusion to our own interrupted kitchen scene was next on my outline. Minus the underwear shenanigans. I’d learned my lesson, and I didn’t want to lead some poor reader astray. This was an homage to Tamra, and I wanted to write the ending I wish we’d had that night. If I hadn’t made a mess of things, I wouldn’t need to make my apology meal tonight. Instead, maybe we’d be cooking together and enjoying naked happy fun time.
My stomach rumbled. Either I forgot lunch, or it had to be time to start getting ready for Tamra’s. One glance at the time and I did a double take. Shit. Somehow, I had a feeling that time wasn’t a.m. but p.m., in which case I was fucked. Sure enough, I double-checked it against my phone and felt my heart crumple in my chest, a husky ash of its former vitality.
I had stood her up. It was nearly 9:30 p.m. That made me three and a half hours late for our date. Ridiculously on brand for me, and utterly disappointing. I should have set an alarm. Or ten. Stupid. Stupid.
I’d started writing roughly eight hours ago, when I had plenty of time to prepare for our dinner. I never imagined I’d lose track to this extent.
With a deep sigh, I opened her text message. It was from hours ago. I couldn’t be a coward and just text her back; even I knew that wouldn’t fly. I groaned but reached for the dial button. Her voice was hesitant when she answered, and I felt like a troll. She deserved better. What had she been thinking? I did my best to reassure her quickly.
“Tamra. I’m glad you’re still awake. I’m so sorry about tonight.”
“What happened to you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. I had a feeling it was in anger, that I’d finally shaken that pragmatic core.
“I’m so sorry. I got wrapped up in my writing and lost track of time.”
She didn’t wait to hear more, instead the dial tone from an ended call signaled she had hung up. I dropped my head back, staring at the ceiling. It held no answers for me. I could call Jimmy, but I wanted to try to make things right on my own.
I searched for the best apology meme I could find. Nothing seemed to cover it. Probably because it was a situation not meant for memes or a casual apology. I’d fucked up. Again. Big time. And maybe instead of humor, that was the sentiment I’d go for.
Chase: I’m so sorry. I screwed up. I want to make it up to you.
Blocked. The message wouldn’t go through.
My stomach growled. It’d been who knows how long since I’d eaten, or showered for that matter. I shuffled into the kitchen but couldn’t get excited about the ingredients I’d purchased for my dinner with Tamra. Instead, I pulled out a beer. Because drinking on an empty stomach was sure to fix my problems.
After a few more beers, I tried again to text Tamra. Blocked. Apparently, I was a slow learner. I gave up for the night and poured myself into bed, miserable from my mistakes and with no clue how to make it right. How did you apologize for missing your apology date?
The next morning, I sat at my computer, but I had no words. What had flown freely the day before had dried up like a stream in summer. I forced myself to sit at my desk for over an hour with a cup of coffee, writing gibberish only to delete it. Pretty soon my open document looked like a naughty boy had been tasked with writing lines on a blackboard. I will not screw up again. I will apologize. If only typing it over and over again could make it true. I took a bike ride
to try to clear my head, but every thought circled back to Tamra and what a mess I’d made of things.
A text message was waiting for me when I got back, and my heart rate accelerated until I realized it was only Jimmy.
Jimmy: How goes the apology tour? Did you grovel your way back into Tamra’s good graces?
Chase: I wish. That train never left the station. I messed it up.
Jimmy: HOW? You had ONE job.
Chase: I know! I got to writing, and you know me when I write ...
Jimmy: How long was your bender?
Chase: Honestly not sure. I finally surfaced about 3 hours after we were supposed to meet and called her.
Jimmy: And is she speaking to you?
Chase: No.
Jimmy: I don’t blame the woman. You’re lucky she didn’t light a match to your apartment with you still in it. We’re meeting for lunch and you’re buying. See you in thirty?
Chase: Deal. See you there.
I sighed and went to take a lightning quick shower before throwing on jeans and a T-shirt to meet Jimmy. I pulled up to our favorite brewpub in Tacoma on time, and I tried not to pat myself on the back so hard that I fell down. Showing up was simple, and I was kicking my own ass for not being on the ball when it was time to meet Tamra.
Jimmy had charmed the waitstaff into giving us our favorite table by the window, and I ordered a burger and beer without looking at the menu. Jimmy let me get settled before starting in on me.
“So. Apology didn’t go well, or at all really, and now she’s not talking to you? Is that about the size of it?” he asked.
Frustration leaked into my voice. “I can’t believe I stood her up. I knew how important last night was, but I just ... lost track of time.” I rubbed my hands through my hair, gripping the back of my neck. I hated the pity on Jimmy’s face. But this was all my own fault.
Mister Romance Page 19
