by S. L. Scott
He kisses the corner of my mouth, lingering a moment. Eventually, he scoops me off the counter and sets me down on my own two feet. I’m slightly disappointed but I know the sexual build-up has passed. “I’ll get the plates ready. You go watch the game,” I offer.
I bring two plates, napkins and my wine, setting them on the table and settle down on the couch next to him. His hand finds its place on my knee and he smiles letting me know all is okay.
OVER A MONTH has passed and she’s still here. Nothing is taken for granted. Too much time lost. Too much time to make up for.
She still lives at her apartment, but she’s here a lot or I’m over at our old place. We took it one day at a time for about two days and then we just gave in completely and placed our trust in each other.
It’s late and I decide we need to go to bed. She fell asleep over an hour ago and as much as I love holding her, it’s cramped on the couch. I scoot out from under her, turn off the TV, and the lamp before leaning down and picking her up carefully. Her eyes open and a gentle smile appears as she wraps her arms around my neck. “You used to carry me to bed all the time.”
“You’re still light as a feather. I should feed you better,” I tease, aiming to get another smile before bed.
She laughs lightly, still sleepy. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll put on those love pounds soon enough.”
“Love pounds? Yes, let’s both pack’em on and just grow old, fat, and be happy together.”
Her smile stays as she leans her head on my shoulder. “That sounds like a plan.”
After getting ready for bed, she snuggles into my side. “Are you sure you’re fine with the no gift thing. I know it’s a bit untraditional—”
“I could be lame and say you’re my gift this year.”
“Yeah, don’t say that. It’s sooooo bad.”
I chuckle in the dark room. “Okay, I won’t. Are you sure you’re okay with the no gift idea. I mean it is Valentine’s? Only comes once a year.”
“I don’t need anything—”
“Valentine’s isn’t about buying something needed—”
“It’s about being together and showing how much you care about the person you’re with. You do that every day, Dylan. I have everything I want and need.” She pokes me in the side, trying to tickle me. “Now all your lameness has rubbed off on me.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Will you be my Valentine, Jules?” I hear the pillow whooshing through the air, but I’m too slow to stop it. It hits me in the face. “Okay, okay,” I say, my voice muffled from under the weight of the down pillow. “How about goodnight then?”
“Perfect. Goodnight. Sweet dreams,” she says calmly, but I can tell she wants to laugh. She drags the pillow back and repositions herself against me. Minutes pass and I’m starting to doze off when I hear her whisper, “Yes.”
With my eyes still closed, I mumble, “Huh?”
“I’ll be your Valentine, but only on one condition.”
I smile though she can’t see me. “What’s that?”
“That you’ll be mine.”
I roll onto my side and hug her closer. “You got yourself a Valentine, sweetness.”
I wake up around four in the morning. My eyes squinting in the dark to find the yarn I hid under my alarm clock.
Jules’ breathing is steady, solid, deep. She’s definitely asleep, but knowing she’s a light sleeper, I move slowly, carefully, taking her left hand off me and setting it down very gently. I tie the red yarn around her finger and make a bow before kissing it and going back to sleep.
A SLIGHT SHAKE of the bed and what sounds like crying wakes me. Quickly opening my eyes, I see tears stream down Jules’ face as she gazes up at her hand, which she’s holding in the air.
“You remembered. I forgot,” she says, sniffling.
“I want you to remember too though.” Back in college, the red yarn was a promise that one day I’d replace it with a ring. I’m making that same promise again… but this time I’ll follow through.
“I’ll try.” She looks straight into my eyes in the softly lit room, the sun just barely above the horizon.
“One day you’ll forget all the bad and remember only the good. I’ll give you that. You deserve to remember only happiness. You deserve to have beautiful memories of our life together.”
Stroking my cheek, she tries to smile though the heavier emotions are clearly winning. “Our life together has always been beautiful. It’s the times without you that are painful.”
She’s right. We were so good together, even up to the day I left her. Her eyes close as she rests her head on my chest, crying. I rub her head and say, “I wish I could erase—”
“Wishing is pointless. The bad brought us back to the now, so no wishing. Let’s just live in our reality, scars, battle wounds, and all that comes with a past apart.”
“Okay.” I agree because I have to. Wishing won’t do either of us any good but I really do wish…
I’M TRYING TO be an active listener at Dylan’s work party, but some of these financial conversations are really boring. I smile and play along. Stocks, bonds, and bankruptcies aren’t topics that I can easily add anything of value to, especially when I don’t understand what they’re talking about.
Thank God I don’t have to be anything but myself with Dylan. I watch him talk, fascinated by how much he’s learned and changed from the boy I once dated. He holds my hand, asking my thoughts, showing me how much he loves me. I’ve engaged in plenty of chitchat tonight, been called beautiful several times, but is it bad if I’m already ready to leave and spend the rest of the night in bed with him instead?
Bed. That’s become my favorite place, my favorite escape from the world. It’s been hard to set aside the past, but I’ve been doing it. If I’m not careful, it tends to catch up with me when we’re apart.
The CEO has summoned Dylan to join in another business discussion, so I offer to refresh our drinks at the open bar. He’s an asset to the company, a rising star. I see that tonight. Dylan’s watches as I walk away. He’s always watching me, afraid I’m leaving. I hate that he feels that way, but I understand it too.
For almost a year after he left, I thought I saw Dylan walking around our neighborhood: at the local grocer, the coffee shop, buying a paper at the drugstore like he used to do. But it was never him. I questioned my sanity when reality hit. I also never dared to bring him up to his mother. I wasn’t strong enough to lose that bond or to hear about his great life without me. But I also knew she’d tell me if anything major was going on with him like surgery, marriage, kids. She never had to. Thank God.
I still hate that he left, but now… I’m officially out as his girlfriend to his co-workers. I saw disappointment on some of the women’s faces and one of the male law clerks when we walked in, which made me smile inwardly and outwardly.
His assistant Tricia is really sweet, almost too excited to meet me. She used words like ‘finally’, and ‘so happy.’ She seems genuinely happy too, not jealous, not conniving. She whispered that since Dylan and I have been together, he’s been in a great mood at work and that he’s a great boss. I started chuckling because my co-workers at the gallery have said the same thing since our reconciliation.
None of them know this is a reconciliation though. I never went into the gory details with them.
I’ve seen Jacqueline several times out of the corner of my eye. I haven’t run in to her yet. I’m anxious about that, even though I shouldn’t be. Truth be told, I’ve been avoiding her. She knows too much and it makes me uncomfortable. I can only imagine what she thinks of me.
After approaching the bar, I glance back at Dylan. He’s discussing something intently, nodding and using his hands to emphasize some point. It appears to be an intense conversation. I hope it’s nothing bad, not wanting the good mood ruined.
I order him a beer and another glass of champagne for me. With drinks in hand, I turn, my eyes meeting Austin’s, making me halt abruptly. Drops of champagne
spill over the edge of the glass, the cold hitting my skin.
He grabs napkins quickly from the bar and dabs my wrist, ridding me of the liquid. “I’m sorry for startling you, Jules.”
An automatic response flows from me, “Oh no, it was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I try to smile, to bury the feelings that threaten to come. My heart is pounding too hard in my chest to think logically.
I move forward, unsure if I should stay or go. He moves too, but I’m going to Dylan and he seems to be coming with me, so I stop. I have trouble smiling, my stomach turning from guilt. His expression is kind and in a way, comforts me. He smiles and says, “It’s really good to see you. How have you been?” Austin has always been too much of a gentleman, too kind for his own good.
“I’m good. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“My company is one of their largest accounts, so they always send us an invitation to their events.” Here it comes. I can see it in his eyes. “So you’re here with Dylan?”
I look over his shoulder and see the topic of conversation. Dylan’s eyes flash to mine and then to Austin before he returns his gaze back to the discussion he seems stuck in. He looks restless, unsettled in his stance. He has nothing to worry about, but I’m not sure he believes that completely yet.
I’m his. I always was. “Yes. I’m here with Dylan.”
He nods as if he knew all along. “So it was more serious than I thought.”
“It was more serious than I thought too, Austin. I’m sorry. I feel like—”
“You don’t need to apologize or explain. I don’t feel duped or anything like that. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out what went wrong. I’ve been flying to China a lot lately, so I’ve had plenty of time to think about it on those long flights.” He laughs, but there’s no humor. “I don’t think you knew your own feelings until he was back in the picture. I’m just sorry for the timing. Maybe if… Yeah, I’m not going down that road.” He looks around, his real emotions starting to break through his smile. “I don’t live my life based on what-if’s, so I try not dwell.” He leans closer and whispers, “I should tell you, I’m seeing someone too. She’s heading this way.”
And there she is—long legs, about a foot taller than me, blonde hair, blue eyes. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses him on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”
“I ran into a friend of mine. This is Jules Weston. Jules, Misty Connors.”
As I say hello, it doesn’t escape me that he didn’t respond to her question.
I hear an accent in her greeting, but I can’t determine where she’s from. She eyes me, assessing me from head to toe. I need to get out of this awkward situation. “I should go and deliver thes—”
“Jules?” Dylan has finally escaped and is here by my side. “Austin,” he acknowledges politely, shaking his hand with a smile. Not gloating, but not hiding either.
“Hope you don’t mind me monopolizing your date, Dylan. We’ve been catching up.” Austin’s voice is tight, bitter feelings toward Dylan still lingering.
Dylan looks from me with concern, but to him with confidence. “Completely understandable when talking to Juliette. I hear your company expansion is going well.”
Austin’s eyes are on me as he answers him, “Very well indeed. How’s the gallery?”
“We’ve had an expansion of our own and decided to open another gallery in Tribeca. It should open by the fall of next year.”
“That’s great news. You always had an eye for talent. By the way, I thought about you the other day because I just bought a house in Los Angeles. The office is strong and growing fast out there, so I needed more than just a hotel room when I visit. I could really use your eye for some key pieces to add to my art collection. Some art that would complement the new house. Do you make house calls? Your expenses paid for, of course.”
Misty looks bored with us. “I’m getting a drink,” she states, turning abruptly and leaving.
Dylan’s hand is on my lower back, fingers gripping my waist, holding me close, silently claiming me as his. “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Dylan replies, surprising me.
He’s right. It’s not considering our dating history, but I’m still surprised that Dylan made his feelings known like that.
Austin eyes him, annoyed as if intruded upon.
“I’d be happy to send you a list of colleagues in LA who could help you,” I interject to keep things civil.
Dylan’s name is called. We look to see his boss waving him over again. “Shit,” he mumbles.
“It’s fine. Go ahead,” I say, handing him his drink. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
“Not longer than a moment though.”
“No, not longer,” I smile, reassuring.
“Austin, it was good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Dylan.”
They sound bizarrely sincere.
When he leaves, Austin asks, “Are you happy, Jules?” His tone is somber.
I don’t have to think about it because the answer is easy, the answer is obvious. “I am. I hope you are too. Misty seems…you know.” I leave it at that, hoping he understands he’s worth so much more than arm candy.
“I take it you don’t approve?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Your opinion still matters to me, more than it should.”
“In that case, I think she’s an airhead who wants to marry money, party, and live the life that you can afford to provide her with.” That was probably a bit rough and rude. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t hav—”
Chuckling, he says, “Go ahead and tell me how you really feel. So you surmised all that in the few minutes she was here?”
I may not be in love with him, but I care and I don’t want him taken advantage of. “She’s not good enough for you.”
“I can say the same about Dylan.”
“I appreciate your concern, but we’re not together for superficial reasons. He values me and respects my career. I think you’ve underestimated him.”
“I most definitely did when we were together.” He shakes his head, reflecting. “Your birthday dinner… yeah, I feel really stupid that I didn’t pick up on any of that.”
Stepping forward, I place my hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry, Austin. I’m sorry for hurting you. You didn’t deserve it.”
I can tell he wants to argue that fact, but it’s fruitless and he knows it. Our eyes meet and an understanding seems to be silently reached. That’s my cue to leave on somewhat of a good note.
“I should get going.” I signal over my shoulder before sipping my champagne.
I start to turn, but he stops me by the elbow. “Please, don’t go. Stay.”
Looking down at his hand on me, the emotion he put into the gesture has my head spinning until… I’m not. Clarity.
“Austin, you can do better. Don’t settle for someone who is just a bed warmer. Stay single until you find that someone who warms your heart. Misty’s not that girl and I guess I wasn’t either.”
“He’s the one, isn’t he?”
“Dylan’s always been the one.”
He leans forward, kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, “Live a happy life. You deserve it.”
I stop him before he can leave and whisper, “Thank you. So do you. Don’t forget that.”
While returning to Dylan’s side, I glance over my shoulder and see Austin hold his drink in the air. I raise my glass to him, leaving him with a smile. When I face forward, my eyes meet Dylan’s.
He’s right. I realize that now. We’re ready. I want this. Dylan wants this. No holding back anymore. When I approach, he takes my free hand, brings it to his lips and kisses gently.
The others are too engrossed in themselves and their conversation to pay us any heed, so I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips before whispering, “I love you.”
He kisses my temple and repeats, “I love you.”
I STROKE HIS che
ek while he sleeps, remembering tomorrow is that dreaded date—March 14th. I haven’t brought it up, not wanting to bring any negativity to all the good we’ve shared.
“I’m giving you my heart, Dylan. I’m trusting you to take care of it.”
A kiss to his forehead and stroke across his cheek wakes him, and he replies, “I will. I promise.”
I’VE BEEN FEELING very at peace with us. We never did ‘slow’ very well, but even this might be too fast.
At dinner, Dylan mentions that he hopes to have the whole white picket fence, two kids, marriage package. That makes my heart soar. Looking over at me, he smiles and I can see the love in his eyes.
I think I’m coming around to the same idea of forever.
WE VISIT HIS family for a weekend in the Hamptons. It’s a casual, relaxing time. Renews the spirit to be away from the city. It seems our troubles are finally in the past.
One afternoon, he builds a sand castle with two little boys staying with their grandparents, friends of his parents visiting for the day. I spend the whole time watching him, wondering if he’s feeling the same ticking I’m feeling to have kids.
By the time we go to bed, back in the city, on Sunday night, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to stop wondering and start planning.
“I WANT TO live together,” he states one Sunday afternoon. Football on the flat screen, him lying across the couch with his head in my lap, reading a book.
I look down. He looks up. “Really?” I ask.
His gaze goes back to the TV, attempting nonchalance like this isn’t a big deal, but we both know better.
This is a very big deal.
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “We’re together every night anyway. It gets tiring lugging stuff back and forth. I’m sure you’re tired of that too.”
“Where would you want to live? Here or at my place?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it and there are pros and cons to both. I wanted to talk to you first, not just have it all planned out already.” He sits up, dropping his feet to the ground and faces me. “You want to move in here?”
