My eyes landed on the picture of Paul and I on our wedding day. The picture was on the wall in a row with some others from our childhood.
Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, as I looked at the furthest one. The one of us by the lake where we used to meet. The one that was always featured in my dreams.
It was that same day he spoke those words to me.
“Paige you have to let me go. It doesn’t mean we have to forget. But you have to let me go.”
Those words imprinted on my soul and would be forever.
He said those same words to me minutes before he died.
I went straight to the mailroom to see Bernice the next day.
I was in one of my states of flux. She noticed my demeanor straight away as I entered and stopped drinking her coffee.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Paul,” I answered.
No one ever talked about Paul with me.
I knew it was such a sensitive subject, but sometimes I wished someone could ask me how I was and force me to talk about what happened.
I wished someone could force me to talk about him.
Seeing my distress, Bernice immediately got up, moved over to me, and ushered me to the sofa hang out area near the coffee machine. We sat opposite each other.
“Are you okay?” She looked me over with concern.
“Do you think I changed after he died?”
“Paige, it’s expected and understandable that you changed.”
“So, I did?” I pressed my lips together.
“Of course, you did. Something like that has to change you.”
Bernice was the only person I’d really spoken to about Paul, but only when I gave her permission to talk about him. Like now.
My parents, my brother, and my sister, all did their best with me. But their best was not saying anything, and that didn’t help me to move on.
It was three years now. Three years since I lost him.
He had a brain tumor. The kind that meant if he’d had an operation he would have lost himself. He would have needed care for the rest of his life, and he didn’t want that.
He found out when he was eighteen, and just accepted one day it would take him. We both went to college, and I married him anyway knowing one day I would lose him. Every year I had with him was a blessing, and when I did lose him, I lost myself too.
The Paige four years ago who was able to write to Tilly and tell her to take a chance on love was deeply in love. She had the purest love because she was in love with an angel.
Back then I almost believed he’d get through it.
I almost believed we’d live our lives to the fullest and grow old together. I just thought somehow the tumor wouldn’t affect him.
But, I was wrong.
I lost him and lost everything that meant something to me. That included that heart Jason talked about.
How hadn’t I noticed?
It felt like the only person who didn’t know what was going on in my life, was me.
Bernice just said I’d changed and as irritated as I felt to admit it, that damned Jason pointed it out too.
“Do you want to talk?” Bernice asked.
“I don’t know what to say. What is there to talk about? It’s not like I can resolve anything. He’s gone.”
“We can talk about how you’re feeling.” She offered.
“I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
“What brought this on?” She asked now looking curious.
“The lovely Jason Dempsey.”
“Oh.” Bernice laughed a little. “Quite the character, isn’t he? And gorgeous.”
“Bernice.” I scolded. I didn’t need to be reminded, especially right now, that I thought the man was gorgeous too. I felt bad enough as it was.
“I’m sorry. It’s just an observation. Anyway, back to you. Paige, if you’re feeling bad then that’s something to talk about.”
I sighed and ran my hands over my face. “I had that dream again.”
“The one by the lake.” Bernice was well versed in my recurring dream of Paul. “The one where he says…”
“To let him go.” I breathed and focused on her. “I can’t.”
“Paige, I know it’s difficult but ask yourself this. Would Paul want you to live the way you are? Also, for the record I know you don’t just pick up random men and go off to do whatever craziness you feel like.”
God, I was going to cry. The tears were coming. One ran down my cheek.
“I’m so sorry Bernice.” I wiped it away quickly. “I should never have given you that advice.
“Honey, we were both drunk, and it’s on me. I didn’t have to take the advice.”
“I feel so bad.”
“Don’t. Anyway, back to you, again.”
“That is part of the problem. I haven’t been myself. I love my job. It’s everything I could hope for, but I haven’t been true to the people who make the job what it is. My readers.”
“Paige, you’ve been really strong. Forgive me for saying this, but I’m your friend, and since we’re talking about this then I have to be honest with you.” She looked nervous.
I geared myself up to hear what she had to say. “Tell me.”
She pulled in a breath. “I think that the problem lies with the difficulty in letting Paul go. Losing your husband must have been devastating, I can’t even begin to imagine what you must have gone through and must be still going through. But if you’re worried about your advice you have to think about the real problem. I’ve known you long enough to know that your writing comes from emotion, whether it’s your articles or advice. If you aren’t writing with emotion, you’re writing with nothing. You’re just writing what you think people want to hear, and the more far-fetched your advice is, the more attention you get. But that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
Wow. I didn’t realize that Bernice thought all of that.
“I don’t know how to be that person anymore. The person I used to be.”
“You do know.”
She was right. The look she gave me told me everything.
I had to let Paul go.
“It won’t be easy.” She added, then continued, “but you have to try, then you’ll be the woman you used to be. He’d want you to. He knew how much you loved writing and helping people, being an example. So, think about that.”
I nodded at that thought. I’d never thought about it that way before.
I guess I really was going to meet Jason later. I didn’t have a good feeling about what he’d planned, whatever that was, but I’d go if it helped me find myself again.
Chapter 7
Jason
I was actually surprised she turned up. I was only about eighty percent certain she would yesterday when I extended the invite.
I watched her park her silver Porsche Carrera which just about fit in between the Mercedes and the BMW that sandwiched her.
She didn’t see me standing by the entrance of the club until she got out of her car.
I smiled as I looked her over. She went home to change, and she did her hair.
Earlier, at work, she had worn a simple black dress and had her hair in a ponytail.
Now that hair ran down her shoulders in a mass of warm velvet, complementing the grey bodycon dress she wore. That dress caressed her perfect figure the way I wanted to if she’d ever give me the chance.
“Is that for me?” I asked teasingly looking her over as she walked over to me.
“Is what for you?” she frowned a little.
“The dress. Looks hot.” I smiled at her.
“We’re going to a club. I dressed up.” She stated, matter of factly.
She was her usual self, and the firmness was there but there was something softer about her tonight.
The wind picked up and lifted her hair sending a wisp across her face. I reached out and tucked it behind her ear. My fingers brushed across her cheek as I did so, and I realized her skin was as soft as i
t looked. Like butter cream and velvet mixed together.
I smiled at her light blushing. Even in the dark, with the silver moonlight and the city lights distorting the color around us, I could see she was. I imagined those cheeks turning a rosier color as I looked at her and continued to stare.
“Is this what we’re going to do all night? Just stand here?”
“Do you want to? I’m happy to.” I surprised her by picking up a lock of her hair and twirling the ends around my thumb.
“I never said yes. And don’t touch my hair.” She snapped moving away from me.
She stepped in front of me and made her way to the entrance of the club.
I moved to join her, but my eyes found her ass. Sweet, and perfectly rounded as if it was sculpted that way.
I was so glad I wasn’t one of those men who held back on their desires. I didn’t believe in being that way, especially with a woman I realized I wanted more than I imagined.
It’s been what?
Shit, three days.
It felt more like weeks though because she’d constantly been on my mind.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught me checking her out. I didn’t act like I wasn’t. Like someone else might. I wanted her to see me.
As we got to the door I walked a little faster to open it for her and when we went in I lightly placed my hand in the small of her back.
I was glad she didn’t protest.
“Jason, nice to see you.” Bill, the concierge said as we approached him at the reception stand, where a line of people were handing in their coats.
“You too.” I smiled at the large muscular man.
Paige looked over at me. “Come here often?” she asked.
Bill chuckled at the comment.
“Enough,” I replied.
“Is our suite ready?” I asked.
Bill nodded.
“Suite?” Paige raised her brows.
“Relax, Sweet Thing. It’s just the VIP area.” I calmed her running my fingers across her back.
She flashed me a look of disdain, but I just smiled at it. She was in for a real surprise tonight. I was glad she was here. Seemed like I was moving across the game board.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” I moved with her further into the club.
She followed me.
The music hit us the minute we went through the doors to the club itself. It was the standard club music, and everyone was enjoying themselves. There was a seating area, a bar and the main floor. All of which were full.
The last time I checked I heard the place was doing extremely well, which was great for me since I owned it.
I guided her to our suite. It was a room on the first floor with glass windows and a glass floor. I had it designed to make it look like you were floating above the crowd in a glass jar. We could see outside, but no one could see in.
We also had volume control so I turned the music down to make it more background, so we could talk.
She looked mesmerized by the place, and the room. I liked watching her walk around looking at everything. When she turned back to face me, I smiled again, and pointed towards the booth. Bill had already seen to it that we had a choice of wine and other drinks.
She sat opposite me and rested her hands in her lap.
“You can sit next to me if you want.” I would have preferred for her to sit in my lap, but next to me would be a start. “I don’t bite. Well, only if you ask me to.”
She rolled her eyes and moved a little closer, then faced me. The motion made her dress ride up her thighs showing me a little more of her golden skin.
I was dying here, trying my hardest to keep my hands to myself.
That electricity I felt earlier sparked again between us, and I knew she had to feel it too.
It couldn’t just be me.
I was usually right about my instincts and feelings when I used them, and I knew I was right now.
“Okay, Mr. Dempsey,” she began with her head tilted to the side.
“Jason.” I cut in before she could continue. I wanted her to call me Jason, and not in that emphasized way that she said it yesterday.
“Jason.” She said with a slight raise of her brows.
It wasn’t what I wanted, but it would do for now.
“Yes, Sweet Thing.”
She looked at me and tried to look annoyed, but I could see that something in her had indeed softened since yesterday.
“Other than this looking like an obvious date why am I here? This doesn’t look like we’re here for work.”
“This is a date.” I clarified to her horror.
“You tricked me.” She stated, giving me a pointed look.
“Nope. Paige, I didn’t trick you one bit. Baby, if you suspected this was a date and didn’t want to be here with me, you wouldn’t have turned up. And definitely not dressed like that.” I loved stating the obvious, but I knew most people weren’t used to being around someone so blatant.
I couldn’t help how I was and wouldn’t change my character or personality for anything. Whoever was with me; friend, foe, or lover, would always get the truth from me. It was a given I was actually proud of. It meant I didn’t lie or cheat, and they knew what they got from me was the real me.
“I came for my column and I always look good,” she retorted.
I noticed how she was still here.
Her purse was next to her. The logical and normal thing to do if she didn’t want to be here on a date with me was to grab her purse and leave.
I could have pointed that out to her, but I restrained myself because in the short space of time I’d known her I’d managed to assess her personality.
Paige liked to have the upper hand, so when challenged she’d retaliate by doing something a level above what she’d previously done.
If I pushed her she would leave.
Since I wanted her to stay I decided not to push.
“Do you know what JLM stands for?” I steered the conversation towards work.
“Not so much.”
“Just like me. It stands for just like me.”
“Just like me club.” She smirked. “That’s a little weird. I would have thought most people came to clubs for a quick pick up on the easiest person they could find.”
“True, for most clubs I guess. But not this one. What’s your take on dating sites. Imagine someone writes in and asks you your opinion.”
“I’d say that’s a great place to find serial killers and perverts so stay far away.” She nodded with conviction.
“So, you rule out all dating sites?”
“Of course.”
“What if I said there were some that were safe and transparent in everything they profess to do.”
“It’s online. It’s not natural,” she argued.
“Maybe so, but in these modern times with everyone so busy, being online is often the best way that people can meet. I’m not saying it’s the only way, but it’s a way. Look at the people around us and tell me what you see.”
She did as instructed, and looked, gazing through the glass window at the couples on the dance floor and all around having fun as they danced to the music.
The answer I was looking for was happiness. I looked too, and both saw and felt it.
“They look happy, like they’re having fun.”
“They’re all couples. Married and dating. They all met on the Just Like Me website where they found someone who was just like them. Some have been together for years. They come here for the environment. There’s no pressure to meet someone, they’re just here having a good time.”
She looked back to me with that raised eyebrow again. “You sure know an awful lot about the place.”
“The owner usually does.” I smiled.
Her glossy pink lips parted in surprise. “You own this place?”
“Yup, and the site.”
She looked intrigued. “Why? I wouldn’t figure you for being someone who would own such things. Wait, it must make a lot of m
oney. Right?”
“I don’t care about money.” I knew that sounded weird, because who didn’t care about money?
I’d been born into wealth and raised by good people. My parents taught me money was just a thing. What mattered in life were the things you couldn’t put a price on. Things like family, precious memories, love, opportunity. They’d always encouraged me to seek those things if I wanted to be rich.
“That’s interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that.” She looked intrigued, which meant she was warming up to me.
“I’m not like most people, Sweet Thing.”
“So why would you do this?” she opened her palms.
“Because, people like you and I can make a difference in some small way. Women look to you for guidance. They see you as someone who they want to emulate. Strong-willed, successful, and beautiful. Good advice is worth its weight in gold. That’s why you need to be careful with what you say, especially to those who look up to you.” I smiled when I saw I’d struck a nerve. “And me. I provide a safe environment, online and off, where people can get connected. They know that when they come to my club or go on my site everything is exactly as it should be. My company takes all measures necessary to do this. So, there aren’t any hidden surprises, would-be criminals, or people with bad intentions luring others into a trap.”
I held her gaze as she listened to me. “Oh. That’s really good…” she looked back to the crowd and I noticed something in her eyes I hadn’t seen before. I couldn’t quite describe what that was though.
“There’s a lot of people here. I can’t believe they all matched up from a dating site. How?” Again, she looked back to me, intrigued.
“They find someone who’s just like them.” I answered. The simplicity of my answer shocked her.
“Do you know how hard that is?
“No. It’s simple.” I laughed at the stern look she gave me.
“It’s not simple. It’s a hard process.”
“Process? You think it’s a process?” It actually didn’t surprise me that she thought that.
“Of course. You have to be sure that you match properly.” She insisted.
Mailroom Delight Page 5
