by Rebecca Lynn
And of course she wasn’t going to call Todd, she continued to grumble. She’d been honest with him from the first moment, and it would be ridiculous for her to call him. And somehow Drew figured that out. Jerk.
She took a deep breath to calm herself then got up to walk around. Minutes ticked by. She stopped at a picture of what she presumed was his family from years ago. There she saw his younger brother in fatigues, along with his father who was white, and his mom who was African American, Carly, and a younger Drew. They all looked so happy. Knowing they’d experienced such sadness shortly after the taking of that picture made her pause.
“That was taken before he left for Iraq.”
She turned, surprised, having not heard him. He looked relaxed. And why did he have to look so edible? He had changed into a thin sweater over a t-shirt, which sculpted to his body.
“I figured. It’s a great picture of all of you.” He nodded then walked toward her.
“Are you ready for dinner?” he asked casually.
“Did you call Katrina?”
“It’s already taken care of.”
She hesitated. “What happened?”
“It’s okay, Tiff.”
She didn’t know why that annoyed her. She’d assumed Katrina wouldn’t be happy about it. She waited, then, “Fine.”
“Let’s get some dinner then.”
She picked up her purse and threw out, “I didn’t call Todd, by the way.”
“No? Why’s that?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure he’d be fine with it.”
“That’s good. Because I would hate to be seen as the other man.” He smirked. “Ready?”
She sent him a withering look, then said, “Yup.”
They grabbed their coats and headed out down the hall, getting into the crowded elevator. People jostled around, some joking about how everyone had to stand so close and it was good they all had on deodorant. Tiffany, however couldn’t think of anything at all, not while her back was smashed to Drew’s front. He breathed deeply behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder, shifting them slightly toward the front where he rested his shoulder along the wall. She held her breath, her entire being focused on the five square inches where his hand rested. His finger moved and sparks shot out from her skin. Every time his hand pressed lightly into the shoulder muscle there, her core throbbed. Her nipples tingled. Did he have any idea what he did to her?
The doors opened, with everyone going their separate ways. The two of them made it out to the street where they walked a little bit to find a cab. Once inside, they settled in the seat, still quiet from when they’d left his place.
“You like Coldplay?” he asked.
She nodded. “They’ve got a good vibe, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.”
“Who do you usually listen to?”
“My mom loved Motown, and my dad loved Metallica,” he chuckled. “So I grew up hearing them both. Let’s just say I’m somewhere in between them.” He cocked his head. “How about you?”
“I’ve always loved Justin Timberlake. I like his rhythm, but of course I love Spanish music.”
“Ah, yes. The Salsa.” His eyes twinkled. “You do know how to shimmy and shake quite nicely, Ms. Daniels.”
All of their friends had gone out in December for her and Luke’s 33rd birthday. Tiffany got to choose where, and Salsa dancing won out.
She shrugged but heated at the comment. They talked for a few minutes about their favorite music, then the cab pulled up outside a restaurant on 34th Street near 10th Ave. Moments later, they were seated in the bistro, sipping water and finally settling in waiting for their food.
“Carly loves Coldplay, I’m assuming?”
“Loves with a capital ‘L’. Major crush on Chris Martin.”
“I feel bad that she didn’t get to go tonight.”
“She’s seen them a million times. It’s not the end of the world. My dad gets a little anxious when one of us gets sick, and because of what’s happened with my brother and my mom, he panics somewhat. Knowing how he is, it’s better that she went home.” He paused. “I’m thinking it may be time to talk to him about that. It cripples him at times, which isn’t good.”
“I can’t imagine how tough it is to have lost a child and a spouse. It’s no wonder he has a hard time with it.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but at the same time, it’s not healthy. He’s older though. I don’t know that anything will help necessarily. He’s set in his ways, we just hate seeing him get upset.” Drew sighed. “Anyway. How are your parents doing?”
“They’re good. They travel a lot due to their careers, but have been home since the holidays, which is nice. Sometimes they’re gone for months at a time.” She thought about when she’d gone through her separation. With her brother permanently in New York, her parents all over, and Tiffany living in Boston, she was the only one left to shake herself out of the funk in those beginning weeks.
“Is that hard? When they’re gone for so long?”
“Sometimes it is. But they love their jobs. It’s been the best thing for me to move here. I love being closer to them and Luke, not to mention to be so close to such great and new friends. It was lonely in Boston, so I’m thrilled to be near the people I love now. When I first met you last summer, I had just moved back here.”
“I wouldn’t know since you totally ignored me,” he said with a droll tone.
She sent him a mini eye roll.
“Tell me why you changed your mind.” He pinned her with a look.
“About?” The arousal was curling sweetly around her and her eyes felt heavy. Just Drew’s look caused her to overheat. He was an intense man, and leaned forward to prop his elbows on the table. Although he didn’t touch her, she felt his energy and heat.
“About getting back out there. What happened to change your mind?”
She sighed and rested her chin in her hand. Just as she took a deep breath to answer, the food arrived, and they took the next several minutes enjoying their meal.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
She finished chewing, took a sip of water, and then began.
You. But instead, she said, “The girls.”
“The girls?”
“They have a way of holding up the mirror and making you see how ridiculous you’re being. In this case, it was all of them. They’re strong, honest women who know how to say it like it is. I needed that to get moving.”
“I’m glad you have them as friends. They are strong women. And yet,” he began sardonically, “they know how to allow a man to be a man. Hm.” He touched his lip thoughtfully and narrowed his eyes. “Did you talk about that at all?”
“Oh, brother,” she laughed, thinking about their dinner out months ago. “Are we going to resurrect this conversation?”
“Resurrecting the conversation would imply that it was dead. I certainly didn’t kill it, so I believe it’s still alive and kicking.”
She groaned good naturedly.
“Why is it so hard for you to let a man be a gentleman?”
“A gentleman doesn’t have to pay for everything all of the time.”
“True, but for me, my parents taught me how to treat a lady, and even when a woman can pay or open her own door, I still feel like I’m being a good man by doing it.” He stopped and pointed at her with his fork. “And you have said on multiple occasions that I’m a good man.”
“You are a good man. An exceptional man, I would say. But all that I’m saying is that I was with a man for too many years who controlled every aspect of my life even though I didn’t realize it at the time, so now I’m craving to do things on my own.”
“First of all, your ex wasn’t a gentleman. Period. His type of control was not of the gentleman variety. Can we agree on that?”
She nodded for him to continue.
“Secondly, you absolutely have all the control of every aspect of your life along with all of your freedom. So when a good man like mysel
f,” then he paused pointedly, “some might even say exceptional, wants to hold a door, pay for a meal, etc., the lady in the scenario should know that it’s in no way a reflection of the man thinking the woman is incapable of doing those things, but rather it’s just part of the man’s DNA. And it makes him feel more manly when he can do those things.” He ended his speech by taking another bite of his food.
“So you’re only doing it so you can feel more manly?” she asked with a smirk.
“I’m doing it because it feels right. Caring for a woman feels right to me.”
She couldn’t help but want to crawl into his arms and snuggle under his neck. Everything he said appealed to the feminine side of her. “Well said, sir, but you need to understand that sometimes a woman actually wants to do those things for the man, because she also likes to care for him, but also feel independent at the same time. At least this woman does.”
“But you are independent,” he emphasized. “It’s like trying to convince me that you have blue eyes. I already know you have blue eyes. You don’t need to do anything to prove to me that you have blue eyes, just like you don’t need to do anything to prove to me that you’re independent.”
She sighed. “I know. I know.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. That’s why you’re going to let me pay the bill tonight because it makes me feel more manly and it’s part of my DNA.”
She rested her chin on her hand again and sighed with a smile. “You make me nuts, you know that?”
“Oh, well,” he shrugged, taking his last bite. “How’s your food, Ms. Independent Woman?”
“It’s really good,” she said, putting another forkful of pasta in her mouth.
It turned quiet and she looked up to see him watching her, an unidentifiable expression on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m glad you texted me a week ago,” he finally said.
“Oh. Well.” She tucked the hair behind her ear. She’d been doing well, but now he was making her nervous. His look did it to her. “I am too.”
“I was wondering how you’d been doing. You completely ignored me at Ayanna and Jon’s engagement party.” He sat back, examining her. “I thought you were mad at me about something.”
“Mad? Why would I have been mad at you?” she laughed.
“I have no idea,” he shrugged.
“You didn’t really talk to me either.”
His eyebrow went up slightly. “Given what happened on New Year’s I thought it best to leave the ball in your court.” His eyes became heavy lidded. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left it in your court.”
Breathe, Tiff. “Well,” she tamped down the urge to sputter, “I may have taken a while to examine myself, but I wanted to make sure I was ready. I didn’t want to bring a man into my mess. I wanted to make sure I was whole.”
“Understood.”
She couldn’t shut up. “And I wasn’t feeling whole at the time, and I thought I needed a little longer to be ready, and the girls, they’ve yelled at me forever and told me to get over it. Which I’ve appreciated, but I didn’t think it was right to jump back into things. Jumping back into things would mean I needed to be ready for the potential changes about to come, and I hadn’t thought it through all the way, and after having an asshole for a husband, I wanted to think things through...”
“So you’ve said.”
“...because it was important for me to be ready so I wasn’t hurting you...or I mean a man, if I was going to get into a relationship with him. I think you,” she shook her head and stumbled again, “I mean I think a man deserves that...”
“Uh, huh. That’s very commendable of you,” he nodded. He waited for her to continue, watching her.
She fidgeted. What had she just said to him? She needed to slow her brain down to remember what she’d just said to him. Moments were passing and his mouth quirked up along with his eyebrow. She looked around to see what was so amusing, then back at him with her own eyebrow raised. “And for your information,” she continued, “you were already dating Katrina by the time of Ayanna’s engagement party -”
“Ah, I see. And that’s why you didn’t talk to me?” he interrupted, speaking calmly.
“No.” Stop, Tiff. “I didn’t know you were dating her until Emily told me two weeks later,” she blurted, “when I was ready to talk to you.”
He narrowed his eyes and was smiling.
Shit. Shitshitshit. “What are you smiling at?” she practically screeched.
He just continued watching her, his eyes now taking on a glint. “Are you almost done with your food?”
Why was he so friggin’ calm? The jerk was just sitting there smiling at her, like some damn cat that swallowed some damn canary. The jerk. “What?”
“I said are you almost done with your food?” he smiled, enunciating each word.
She blinked then looked down at her plate. “Yeah, um. Yeah.”
“Good. Because we should probably get going.”
“Oh, okay.” She swallowed trying to stop herself from talking, breathing deeply. She reached for her purse.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I’ll get the tip,” she glared.
“No. You will not get the tip, though I appreciate the offer. I asked you out tonight, and I would very much like to pay for dinner. Thank you for allowing me to, which of course makes me feel very manly.” He smirked and called the waitress over, who waited while he signed the bill. Once she was gone, he spoke again. “You good to go?”
She still had no idea what had happened, but she was pretty sure she showed him a lot more of her cards than she’d been planning to. And you know what? I don’t even care anymore.
She threw her shoulders back along with a confident smile his way, then said, “Yup.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
He led her out of the restaurant and they headed over to the Garden, finding their spots down front as the opening act was finishing. Tiffany’s body was on fire. Being close to Drew always had this effect on her, but coupled with their stimulating dinner conversation, she wanted to rip the man’s clothes off. She felt like a horny teenager with him standing behind her; with him touching her shoulder occasionally, or his mouth close to her ear when he’d ask if she was having a good time. She was nearly coming out of her skin.
Finally, toward the end of the show, Chris Martin sang the sweet but haunting ballad, Fix You, and Tiffany could feel tears pricking her eyes. She’d never fully listened to the words, but they were so apropos for her own situation and she thought of Drew. Without realizing it, her eyes misted up. She turned away to surreptitiously wipe at her eyes and when he noticed, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He never said a word, just rocked her through the song.
Her heart cracked a little more. She was falling for him in little increments, and she feared she’d never have him. What shitty luck. But what an incredible friend he was. Although she’d done a lot to fix herself, his friendship had also played a part in truly fixing her, and his sweet and tender care only made her want him more.
When the band left for their first encore, it was obvious the night was almost over, and Drew finally leaned down and said in her ear, “Do you mind if we leave and try to catch a cab before it’s mass hysteria in here?”
She shook her head to let him know she was fine with that and he took her hand to lead her to the exit through the mob of people still enjoying the concert. She loved that he held her hand.
When they made it outside, they had to walk a bit to find a taxi, but they finally flagged one down and got in. Drew gave the cabbie Tiffany’s address, then leaned back.
“You didn’t want to stay until the end?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately concerned. “I thought you said it was okay. Did you want to stay?”
“No,” she reassured him quickly. “I’m fine with leaving early. I was just surprised you wanted to leave before it was over.”
“I don’t usually go to concerts often. Sometimes I get a little anxious with all of the people,” he shrugged a little sheepishly.
“Really? Are you claustrophobic?” Knowing he might be made him more human in her eyes.
“Only in certain situations, I guess.”
“Did something happen once to make you feel that way?”
“Nothing really happened to me, per se,” he said, settling into the seat. “But I have this vivid memory of when I was twelve or thirteen, and I saw this newscast of a fire that happened at a nightclub in Boston somewhere. When the fire happened there were so many people packed into the place that when they tried to get out, tons of people trampled each other to get to the doors. When the fire was finally out, the firefighters discovered a pile of burned bodies at the exit, all stacked high on top of each other.” He shuddered.
“God, Drew, that’s horrible.”
“Yeah. So, that thought pops into my head whenever I think about going to concerts or when I’m actually at one. I always want to know where the exit is, and when everyone starts moving in that direction and there are so many people,” he shrugged and stopped for a moment. “I just like leaving before the mass exodus,” he said dryly.
“I’m surprised you even go to concerts with that image in your head.”
“Carly really wanted to go.”
“Yeah, but once she couldn’t go, we didn’t still need to. Why did we even go tonight?” She was genuinely concerned for him, and it was obvious by her tone.
He looked at her closely. “It was fine. And I thought you’d enjoy it. Did you?”
“Geez, Drew. Not if it gives you a panic attack.”
“I just breathe through it. It really was fine, so don’t worry about it.” He smiled.
She sighed and shook her head. “Was this a manly thing again?”
“I thought it would be nice for us to go out and have a good time. Did you have a good time?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she sighed again.
“Good,” he said, ending that particular conversation. “You got a little emotional earlier. You okay?”
She sighed, knowing he was referring to the crying jag during the concert. “I guess the lyrics just struck me for some reason, you know? About fixing myself. So many years spent with an asshole,” she shook her head, “and it continues to surprise me how long it takes to rebuild yourself after that.”
