“Do you want to try to apologize—again? Or is she that forgettable?” he asked pointedly.
“She’s not forgettable at all. She’s all I think about. That’s part of the problem. I can’t get her out of my head, to the point that this latest book has become all about her. I try so hard not to write autobiographically, because hey, in real life I suck at romance, but this book, it’s all her.” I couldn’t sit still, and my hands made their trek from hair to neck to table again.
“Did you tell her that?”
“I didn’t get the chance. She’s blocked my number on her phone.”
“Are you going to give up?”
My jaw firmed. “No. Abso-fuckly not.”
“You’re making up curse words now, so the creativity must be flowing. How are you going to win her back?”
I sighed. “I’m not sure I can, but I’m going to try. I’ve been plotting all day, but I’m worried most of my ideas are more creepy than romantic.”
“Lay them on me. Your social acceptability radar is usually about fifteen degrees off-center, but I haven’t been slapped once when I didn’t truly deserve it,” Jimmy finished with a wicked smile.
“Okay, here goes. I thought I could make a big romantic gesture, like sending her flowers. But not just to her home; to her work. Hell, I’d arrange for them to arrive while she’s at the grocery store if I could manage it. Truly shower her in flowers.”
“I get what you’re going for, but A) super creepy, and B) you’ve described Tamra as uber practical. You think a woman like that wants hundreds of dollars of death sent to her?”
“Death? Flowers aren’t death, they’re romantic.” Jimmy didn’t look convinced. “She may be practical, but she also devours romance novels. There’s the heart of a romantic in there, and I think maybe she’d appreciate the gesture. Especially at the hospital, she’s probably surrounded by flower deliveries for other people. I imagine it would make her feel invisible over time. I want to show her that she’s important to me and make her feel special.”
Jimmy nodded. “I’m willing to concede that receiving flowers at work isn’t all that terrible, but absolutely no flowers anywhere else. Again, creepy. I doubt that’s enough to do it though, what else have you got?”
“Food. We first bonded over food, especially recipes and cooking. I thought I could get her townhome manager to let me in to make her a decadent meal for when she comes home from work.”
“Why would you think that’s okay? In no universe is that acceptable. Creepy and illegal with the breaking and entering.”
“But I’m pretty sure I read it in a book once ...” I trailed off at his look of incredulity.
“Chase, I say this with the highest of brotherly love, but was this book by chance written in the eighties? It sounds problematic as fuck. I’m glad we’re friends so I don’t have to worry about your ass being carted off to jail.”
He was right. The eighties called, and they wanted their bad ideas back. I needed a path forward. One that wouldn’t get me in more trouble with Tamra.
“Ugh. How can I fix this? I need to show her I’m thinking of her and willing to do anything. Food is one way to show love,” I belabored the point.
“Food may equal love but breaking and entering is grounds for a restraining order. Keep the food, but ditch doing it in her space. You could order her takeout,” he suggested.
I shook my head. “No. Too impersonal, and I think she likes my cooking. If I don’t make it, it doesn’t have the same effect. Maybe I could package it up like a picnic and leave it for her or mail it? Maybe get a food delivery service to drop it off?”
That sounded romantic. I needed a big gesture.
“Better. But if you give the woman food poisoning, it will be the kiss of death to any chance you have.”
He was right. Maybe something bigger.
“Noted. You know I’m better than that. But I still need something else big. I’m worried flowers aren’t enough to get her attention.”
My mind raced through groveling’s greatest hits. Messages written in the sky. Impossible to know if she’d see it. A lavish gift, like a new car. Scratch that, I couldn’t afford it and she wouldn’t accept it.
“You realize that you’ve got a narrow timeframe to make your case; after that any attempt will look pathetic and desperate. Are you sure she’s worth it?”
“I am pathetic and desperate. I made a mistake and I want to make it right.”
“If you truly want to make it right, then how are you going to change? These gestures let her know you’re thinking of her now, but what about the next time you get caught up in work?”
That hit close to home because it was absolutely true. Groveling wasn’t me changing. My habits had been built over years. They were part of me and fundamental to my creative process. I’d known Tamra only a few months. But she felt like a part of me too. Could I change my writing style, or would I lose the ability to write if I forced myself into schedule?
“If you truly care, then learning how to manage your time to keep the important people in your life front and center might be the only thing to convince her.”
His deep brown eyes looked at me with a mix of concern and pity.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy. You’re one of the special people in my life too, but I know I haven’t always been there for you either.”
He brushed off my apology with a flick of his hand, but his nudge did get me thinking about the boundaries between my work and personal life. Were there other relationships I’d stunted by ignoring the world around me?
Our food arrived, and I focused on the plate in front of me while I digested Jimmy’s suggestion. He was right. Changing my habits made sense if I wanted to have anyone in my life five years from now, not just Tamra. Looking up from my burger, Jimmy seemed preoccupied, and I realized I hadn’t checked in with him.
“So, you’ve heard all about my drama. What’s new with you?”
His lips tilted. “Ah, I’ve been spending time with the fair Janine.”
“It’s going well?” I asked.
“Compared to you? Yes. Although I’m not sure she’s that into me. She’s beautiful, smart, and driven, and she ... she just sees the firefighter package.”
“Jimmy. You’re not just anything. You work hard, and you’re intelligent with a good career. She’d be lucky to have you in her life.”
“She’s the kind of woman that deserves more, you know? She’s got a lot going for her, and I’m feeling a little inferior.”
“You? Inferior? I want to meet this woman. Apparently, she’s a force to be reckoned with if she can make you doubt yourself. Which you shouldn’t be.”
He’d deny it if I pushed the issue, but Jimmy was an amazing friend. He was devoted to his career and to helping people. He had nothing to feel inferior about. All the smarts in the world couldn’t match Jimmy’s heart.
I paid our tab and thanked Jimmy for being my sounding board. His friendship was more than I deserved.
That night I initiated phase one of Win Back Tamra: The Apology and Change Tour. I ordered flowers for delivery at the hospital. I hoped that they’d make her smile and feel special, even if I wasn’t her favorite person right now.
I also purchased ingredients for my picnic meal. I was trying to load it with every delicacy I could think of that would let her know I listened and cared about her, along with the dessert I made for my first dinner at her place.
How I’d manage to make my writing life more balanced was a tougher question. Writing was my job. Granted, a job I loved and found all-consuming, but still a job. Jimmy’s gentle rebuke reminded me that I needed to make time for people too.
Alarms became my best friend. I felt silly clocking in and out for my stay-at-home job, but it helped me see patterns. Otherwise, I got lost in the writing haze. I also set alarms for game night with the guys and gym time. I gave myself a one-hour warning so I could try to break away and be more prepared and on-time. But I knew myself and that sne
aky desire to wrap up one chapter which led to two more, so I also set a fifteen-minute alarm so I wouldn’t miss out altogether.
The next day, when my alarm went off, I groaned, but pushed away from my desk. Breaking my flow hurt, but losing Tamra ached. I moved into the kitchen to make Tamra’s feast and package it. The cold pork tenderloin and peanut ginger slaw made my mouth water.
Food, loyalty, listening, and orgasms. The four keys to relationship success. I had the food and loyalty down pat. Two out of four wasn’t a bad start. But would it be enough? It was hard to show her the others if she wasn’t talking to me.
I dropped off the cooler at her place and puttered around my apartment to see if there’d be a response. Writing held no appeal when Tamra was on the line. Finally, she responded. It just wasn’t the reply I was hoping for.
Tamra: Stop with the food and gifts. No more, please.
Question asked and answered: my efforts had not been enough. Every muscle in my chest tightened, until I fought for each breath around the constriction. My eyes watered with the effort.
I’d tried. I’d failed. And lost the only woman in years who mattered. The kindest, the funniest, the one most likely to be my match. Lost. Because I’d let myself become consumed by work. No limits. No balance.
I stared at my laptop and pushed air in and out of my lungs. Opening it would be a welcome escape. Surrendering to the soothing nature of the familiar. Work. It was always there.
My hands clenched, and I glanced away. No. Tamra might not forgive me, but if I wanted more in my life, I couldn’t give up. Becoming a better version of myself meant nothing if I let it go so easily.
Chapter 26 - Tamra
I’d been pretty successful at putting Chase out of mind for the last few weeks since his foray into flowers and food delivery, but watching Becca move during pole dance class brought it all back. Her dark hands dragged slowly up from her ankles and evoked Chase’s body cupping mine, going through the same motion. I remembered the texture of his roughened hands, caressing up my calves until he reached my skirt. As Becca tilted her head in a slow roll, from one shoulder to the other, I thought of Chase caressing the back of my neck with his lips, placing small kisses down my spine. Losing control with him had helped me access the gooey soft mood that I found when I sank into the music and just let my body flow. The sensuality of the dance had me a million miles away. Or more accurately, a few miles away, with a man who found me so forgettable that he’d been a no-show. Enough.
“Whoo. Hot.”
The encouragement from Meghan sitting next to me brought me back to the present. I joined in, whooping and hollering my support as the other women in the second group executed spins and finished their routines.
When it was my turn at the pole, I did my best to avoid thoughts of Chase, but it was impossible to both block him and sink into the liquid motion. Every move felt flat and lifeless.
My inner critic kept whispering. Awkward. Forgettable. Boring. That bitch wouldn’t shut up. She was louder than Meghan and the other students cheering me on, drowning out everything else. All my attempts to fall into the music failed.
I didn’t need Chase to feel at home in my body, and I was frustrated that fantasies of him had intruded so much that I couldn’t enjoy myself. Instead, I’d put my fears on blast. Failed myself. And it stung. I knew I couldn’t rely on Chase. But since when had I become my own worst enemy? Usually dance class left me with an exercise high and sense of accomplishment, but now that too had been dulled by the lens of my disappointment.
After class I tugged on my shoes with more force than necessary and Becca paused next to me on the bench.
“You okay, Tamra?” she asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “Just not feeling it tonight and frustrated with myself.”
Becca’s shoulder lifted in an elegant shrug. “Sometimes I’m too in my own head. The right song can usually drag me out of my funk, though not always. But I’ve watched you dance. You’ve got this.”
Hearing Becca’s confidence restored some of my own. I heaved a sigh and forced a smile. “Thanks.”
“Don’t quit on me now.” Becca leaned in with a conspiratorial smile and whispered. “I hear next week Meghan’s having us use chairs. I need a friend to laugh with when I fall on my ass.”
I snorted at the image of graceful Becca slipping off a chair onto her backside. “Unlikely. That honor might be mine.”
A warm glow suffused my chest as we wished each other goodnight and walked to our respective cars. Even though I was disappointed in my performance in class, I hadn’t contemplated quitting. I’d embraced “progress, not perfection,” and maybe if I kept repeating that mantra, I could let tonight’s lackluster dance go.
The following work week had the same disconnected quality to it. I went through the motions, but nothing touched me; not really. I smiled with patients, I laughed with the doctors, and yes, I frowned when the occasion called for it, but any pleasure or pain was muted. There was a screen between me and the world. Like I was watching someone else go through the motions of living.
I caught a few concerned looks from Gina, but she didn’t broach the subject of Chase, and neither did I. Immersing myself in work, I focused on my patients and routine.
On my day off, I got ready for my lunch date with Vanessa and tried to feel pleasure at the thought of seeing my sister. Most of my best memories from my childhood were of Vanessa and I playing together. Always bubbly and upbeat, she was a nice counterpoint to Jennifer, who often acted more like a parent than a friend. Vanessa had helped me do my hair for my first-ever date. She was there when I cried because my crush didn’t invite me to the school dance. Over the years she’d cheered me on as I pursued my nursing career, never denigrating my choice or asking why I didn’t want to pursue additional degrees. She let me be me, and I loved her for it.
It had been weeks since we’d had time alone together. I should be excited about the prospect of catching up with her, but I dreaded the inevitable questions about Chase.
I walked into the small cafe, scanning the tables to see if Vanessa had arrived yet. Not only had Vanessa arrived, but Jennifer sat beside her. A fine tremor ran through my body as I remembered our last conversation. Let’s be real—our fight. I didn’t want a repeat. Then again, I was already anesthetized, so maybe it was the perfect time to see Jennifer again. She couldn’t hurt me if I didn’t care.
Any fleeting enjoyment at seeing her was spoiled by the presence of our oldest sister. I gave Vanessa my sternest frown and sat down at the table. She gave me a serene smile in return, and I turned to check Jennifer’s response. I assumed she knew I’d be present, and I would have expected her fighting armor, but she looked subdued. Not remorseful, but not truly herself either.
Jennifer was normally perfectly turned out when she left the house—full makeup, a shiny helmet of hair, and an elegant outfit that made you question if she sat around drinking wine and directing the household help at home instead of managing a busy family of four. In contrast, today she wore minimal makeup and her hair was in a ponytail. Most concerning was that she wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that I’d never seen before.
Vanessa jumped in before there were any unkind words or bloodshed. “I invited you both here today because I understand that your last conversation didn’t end well. I want to help you clear the air. We’re sisters, and we need to stick together.”
She glanced meaningfully between us, and I bit my tongue, keeping my emotionless facade in place. I was determined not to be the first to speak. Was it childish? Probably. Maybe. Definitely. Did I care? I needed a small victory. It had been a rough couple of weeks.
I forgot how alike Jennifer and I were. She could also be relentlessly stubborn. She didn’t make eye contact with me or speak. The silence stretched on an uncomfortable amount of time and neither of us showed any signs of breaking. The waiter came to take our orders, and after he left, we just sat. Taking out a book would be a step too far, even for me, b
ut I was tempted.
Vanessa did her best to wait us out, but predictably, she was the first to break. “Honestly. I have kids if I want to sit through this kind of drama. I don’t need it from the adults in my family too.” She looked between us. “Still? Nothing? Come on!”
I made eye contact with Jennifer but kept my mouth closed. She sighed but didn’t utter a word.
“Fine, I guess I’ll be the grown-up. Why are middle children always the peacemakers?” Vanessa couldn’t help including that complaint. “Tamra, while your tryst’s timing and location could have been better, Jennifer overreacted. Her comments weren’t so much about you; Tim has been having an affair. The shit hit the fan the day before the wedding when she found pictures on his phone. She needs her sisters.”
Vanessa dared us to remain silent now. I watched as Jennifer’s stoic face crumpled, and her eyes gleamed. Her breathing became more labored as she struggled to contain her emotions, and I reached out a hand to hers where it lay clenched on the table.
Tim was an asshole to treat her that way. He’d seemed so devoted. I’d always thought he and Jennifer had the perfect relationship. But maybe there was no such thing.
“I’m so sorry,” I said softly. She stared down at the table until she’d composed herself, then looked me in the eye.
“No, I’m sorry. It was never about you. I was hateful, and I didn’t mean it. Will you forgive me?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about Tim. That sucks. What do you need?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to pretend like everything’s fine, but that’s clearly not working so well for me.” She fidgeted with her hands, moving her wedding band around on her ring finger. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly.
“What has Tim said about the whole thing?” I asked.
“He claims it was a one-time mistake, but he had enough photos on his phone that I think he’s lying. He wants to go to couples’ therapy, and I think we’re going to start there and see where it goes.” She took a deep breath, blowing it out unsteadily.
Mister Romance Page 20
