by Amie Knight
She cleared the last of the bags away and put them in the pantry and stood directly in front of me before taking my hands. “He’s a bossy bastard, but he’s good at what he does. He will. My boy won’t let you down.”
Her words eased the knot in my throat. If this brash, overly posh woman could believe in Anthony then I could, too.
“Well, then,” she said, letting go of my hands. “Why don’t I make us dinner? And I brought ice cream! We can watch a movie and eat and chat and get to know each other.”
She was adorable, and I instantly wanted to be good friends with her. But I had a very serious question first.
“I never turn away food, so yes, but first, how the hell did you get in here, Lucy?”
Her evil laugh had me shaking my head.
“I took the key off Anthony’s ring. At least we know he won’t be barging in here tonight.”
I laughed along with her and thought to myself that of course that butthole had an extra key to the place he’d shacked me up in. So he could sneak in and boss me whenever he wanted. Well, Lucy had shown him.
At least that’s what I thought. Until around 8:00 p.m. when there was a quiet knock at the door.
Lucy and I were curled up on opposite ends of the plush brown sofa in the living room under thick fleece blankets with bowls of ice cream in our laps. She’d long since ditched her heels and suit jacket. She’d told me she was single. She and her husband divorced nine years ago. She followed it by saying that some marriages just couldn’t handle when things got really tough. We talked for hours. We were thoroughly invested in the movie Sweet Home Alabama like we hadn’t seen it a billion times when we heard it.
We both stared at the door and then stared at each other and did it one more time.
“It’s the devil with dimples,” I whispered.
“What on earth?”
“That’s what my friends Ainsley and Miranda call him. That and thou who shall not be named.”
Lucy snickered. “Doesn’t surprise me.” She stood up and placed her bowl on the table before heading to the door. “It might not be him.”
“Oh, it’s him. I can feel him trying to telepathically tell me what to do through the door.”
She giggled, putting her face to the small hole in the door.
“It’s him,” she confirmed.
I placed my bowl next to hers. “Told ya.”
“Open the door, Ms. Potter.”
We gave each other big eyes and giggled behind our hands quietly.
“Now,” we heard barked out from the other side of the door.
“Shall I open the door and put him out of his misery?”
I shrugged and pulled the blanket farther up over my shoulders.
She gave me one final look before opening the door and doing a grand sweeping gesture with her hand that made me giggle again. “Please, do come in, Anthony.”
One step in and already he was frowning. He was going to ruin my ice cream and movie. I could see it coming a mile away.
“What are you doing here?” he questioned Lucille, and I got my hackles up.
“What are you doing here?” I interrupted. I wanted Lucille here. Him. Not so much.
His eyes cut to mine. “Just wanted to make sure you got settled.” He glanced over the blankets and bowls before eyeing the TV.
“We’re fine, as you can see,” I pointed out and his face was a mix of relief and disappointment. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what he had to be disappointed about.
“I do see. Do you need anything at all?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his navy blue slacks and rocking up on his heels, and that’s when I noticed he’d ditched the tie and the blazer. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt were unbuttoned, revealing tan, taut skin at the top of his chest, and my mouth watered a little.
His hair wasn’t as neat as it had been this morning, and he’d obviously gone to his apartment before coming here to take off his jacket and tie. And then he’d come to check on me. I felt myself soften at the thought that he was worried about me needing anything.
“I’m good, Doc. Lucy brought me some groceries and we’ve spent the entire afternoon chatting.”
He turned his closed mouth smile to Lucille. “She did, did she?” He gave her a reprimanding look. “I was wondering where you disappeared to. Jackie was a mess on the front desk today.”
She shrugged. “I had more important things to do.”
He looked back at me and said, “I see that, and I’d like my keys back.” He held his hand out and my eyes shot to Lucille.
Don’t you dare, my brain screamed at her, but I stayed quiet, hoping she could read my panicked expression.
If she read it, she didn’t care because she marched over to her expensive black bag on the counter in the kitchen and pulled out a set of two keys. She walked back over and held them out, but as soon as Anthony’s hand made to grab them, she snatched them back with a smile.
“Uh uh uh. Not until you lay one on me, darling,” she said, tapping her right cheek with her index finger.
And me, I sat here stunned. What in the hell was going on?
He rolled his eyes and let out a long, “Oh, Mother.”
Mother?! Did he just call her mother? What in the hell was happening? Lucy was my friend. Oh my God. I’d been duped. She was a sneaky devil, just like her devastatingly handsome son. I’d been had. All. Damn. Day. I’d told the woman I’d had sex with her son! What in the ever-loving hell? Embarrassment set my face on fire.
“Come on, then. You know you aren’t getting these keys without giving your momma a kiss.”
“You’re insufferable,” he said, but his eyes told a different story. They were sparkling with affection and filled with a bit of teasing before he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping her low and laying a smack on her cheek, I’m sure the neighbors in the next apartment could hear.
Lucy giggled, and I smiled even though I was supposed to be mad as hell. They were sweet and adorable.
Anthony stepped back with the keys dangling from his index finger. “Time for you to head home, Lucille.”
She let out a long breath and looked over at me before acquiescing. “I suppose so. I do have work in the morning.”
She collected her jacket, shoes, and purse while Anthony stared at me intently from his spot still next to the door.
A blur of red blocked my view of him, and Lucy’s face leaned into mine, fully blocking my view. “I hope you’re not upset with me, sweets.” She rubbed her hand along the side of my face. “I was going to tell you, but we were having such a fun day and I didn’t want to ruin it. I want us to be friends. Okay?”
She was so genuine, so sweet, I couldn’t help but lean my face into her hand and whisper back, “Okay.”
One final brush of her thumb over the apple of my cheek and she was gone, throwing a knowing smile over her shoulder at me but talking to Anthony.
“You behave yourself, young man.”
“I always do.”
She gave him a look that said she knew different.
Anthony closed the door behind him and stared at me for a beat before toeing his shoes off and making his way to the couch.
I watched him like a hawk. Because what in God’s name was he doing?
I eyed him as he pulled the blanket back and sat in Lucy’s spot on the couch.
“Hit play, yeah?”
“Huh?”
“Hit. Play.”
I’d had enough. He’d chased off Lucy and now was bossing me again. “Does everyone always do what you say, Dr. Jackson?” I was being a snarky bitch, but I didn’t care.
He gave me a pointed look. “Anyone who has any sense does.”
Dick.
He picked Lucy’s half-eaten bowl of ice cream up and scooped some into his mouth. Were we watching a movie and eating ice cream together? Did I miss an email or memo or phone call or something because I was confused as hell.
Sin
ce I was sitting here stunned and annoyed, Anthony reached around me and grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch on the other side of me.
He watched the movie and I watched him. What in the hell was he doing here? He finished Lucy’s ice cream and then reached for my uneaten bowl.
“You gonna eat that?” He raised his eyebrows at me.
I shook my head, and he started in on my bowl of deliciousness. I shouldn’t have watched him eat it. It was a huge mistake. He made ice cream look sexy as hell.
Still, I continued to stare at him until he finally finished eating and placed the second bowl next to the first on the table.
He turned his big body toward me on the couch and he took up way more of the space than I did. He was long where I was short, burly where I was petite, and I took in his long, slacked legs with my eyes.
His socked foot nudged my thigh and my eyes snapped to his.
“She didn’t tell you, huh?”
“Hmm?” I couldn’t concentrate on anything but his body so close to mine.
“Lucille.” He smiled. “She didn’t tell you?”
I smiled despite myself. Because I was pissed that she hadn’t told me. I’d shared with her that I’d had sex with her son, and she’d just smiled and acted like it was just an average day. The woman was crazy.
“Your mom’s a nut.”
His head snapped back and a deep, booming laugh filled the room and I was a goner. That laugh ghosted over my skin like the sun on a cold day, lighting me up, setting my blood aflame. It was over. I was done for. And in that moment, I knew I’d never win again against Anthony Jackson.
It was Friday. I loved Fridays. I only worked until about noon since the office shut down early, and I’d always head down to the French-inspired café near my apartment for lunch, and I’d pour over paperwork with a hot cafe au lait and a slice of my favorite quiche often followed by macaroons or an eclair, or maybe both. I loved sweets. They were my one vice. I didn’t smoke. I only occasionally imbibed in the social drink. I didn’t fuck random women. No, I ate cookies and cakes, and I fucking loved them. Work and sweets, they were my only vices. I worked way more hours than most doctors in my field, but I was committed to the cause—more invested than most of my colleagues.
So, there was a certain pep in my step as I exited my car and walked across the street to the café, and it had nothing to do with the fact I had to walk past Kelly’s car to get there. I wasn’t happy she was there two floors above me. I was just excited to be off for the rest of the day even if it really wasn’t off. It seemed that something always came up. Or that I was always swamped in piles of paperwork I needed to do. I still fucking loved what I did.
I was halfway across the street when I saw her. Or I should say felt her. My skin prickled with an awareness and my eyes shot around and somehow I just knew she’d be there, and sure enough she was. It was a brisk fifty-degree day, but the sun was shining and she sat right in front of my beloved Friday café bundled up in a big coat that was almost too small for her and a hat pulled low over her ears to block the chill. Her hair was down and hung over her shoulders, and she was writing on a piece of paper in front of her furiously, the wires from what looked like earbuds dangling from her ears. Those small ears of hers. I wanted to lean over and run my lips over the tiny lobes. They were as precious as I remembered from years ago.
I was interrupting, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I couldn’t seem to stay away. I had little willpower when it came to this small girl. Just like I hadn’t been able to stop myself from going over to see her the past couple of nights. Often, she just sat there and ignored me, but last night she’d tossed me the remote and said, “Watch whatever you want.”
It had felt like a victory. Maybe a small one, but one nonetheless.
In fact, I’d only seen her hours ago at the office when she’d come in for an appointment. We’d poured over her files and come up with one hell of a game plan. But seeing her there, I couldn’t stop myself.
So, I slid into the seat across from her slowly as to not scare her and leaned back in the seat even though the metal was cold on my back and ass even through my shirt and coat. Pushing my big legs out underneath the table, I crossed them at the ankles and knocked my ankle to hers. It felt good, so I foolishly kept it there and that’s when her blue eyes drifted up slowly from the piece of paper and looked me in my own.
She stared at me for what felt like an hour but was probably a full minute, her expression beyond annoyed. One side of my mouth hitched up. I couldn’t help it. She was beautiful and adorable, even more so when she was riled up.
Plucking the earbuds out of her ears, she said, “This is getting awkward, Anthony.”
The other side of my mouth hitched up, too, now. “How so?”
“This whole stalking thing. It’s getting out of hand.” Her face said she was bored, but I could read the playfulness in her eyes. She loved it when I bothered her.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what I’m calling it.”
“Well, I call it friendship.” I said it nonchalantly, but I realized right then that I meant it. I liked her so much, back then and now. I couldn’t resist her.
She pursed her lips. She had a habit of that whenever she was displeased, and I thought it was possibly the most hilariously cute thing ever. “Is that what we are?”
Raising my eyebrows, I asked sincerely, “Isn’t it?”
She looked away from me and scanned the street like she was looking for answers in the cars that drove by. She didn’t consider us friends and part of me was overjoyed. I could do my job without entanglements. That was the best outcome here, but I knew better even then. Even with her only being back in my life for mere days.
“Besides, you’re at my café,” I shot out there, trying to lighten the mood, which had turned somber.
Her eyes flew back in my direction before she got up and walked toward the street and turned around, looking up at the front of the building.
She was almost in the street and she was making me nervous, she and her precious basketball belly standing in the road, her coat gaping open at her stomach.
“What are you doing? Get out of the road.”
She stepped forward, smiling. “Just looking for your name on the front of the building, Doc.”
Standing up, I reached for her instinctively, grabbing her hand in mine. “It’s not on the front of the building, little bit.”
She tried to pull her hand from mine, but I held it tighter, realizing how cold it was.
“Your hands are like ice,” I said, grabbing her other small hand also and cupping both of them in my big hands. I brought them to my mouth and blew warm air on them softly.
I didn’t think about it. I just did it. It was intimate. Something that only a significant other or a family member would do to someone, but it all just felt too right with her. Normal.
She watched, her hands in mine, seemingly fascinated with the sight.
I dropped her hands, embarrassed, when I noticed her watching me so intently with her palms held in mine and almost pressed to my lips.
“Come inside. I’ll buy you lunch.” I grabbed her papers she’d been working on from the table and clutched them in my hands awkwardly.
Her cheeks were pink, and I wondered whether it was from cold or me.
“I think I’m gonna head home. I’m a bit tired.”
She was good. She knew that whatever was happening was a bad idea. She was being smart. I wasn’t, but I found myself giving less of a fuck and wanting to feel more. It was an awful dilemma, but matters of the heart usually were. And unfortunately for us, too many hearts were involved.
“I won’t take no for an answer. They have the best desserts ever. You gotta eat, right?” I grabbed her hand again, but this time I knew what I was doing as I opened the door with the small bell that dinged so familiarly. I walked in feeling like I was home.
Pulling he
r behind me, I dragged her to my booth and scooted in, laying her papers across from me where I expected her to sit.
“Get in, Kelly.”
She stared at me for a bit before she sat with a huff, looking around the booth before her eyes zeroed in on the plaque below the window that read, Dr. Anthony Jackson.
She rolled and then narrowed her eyes at me.
I smiled, all teeth.
I pointed to the small gold plaque below the window. “See, my café.”
“Duly noted.” She huffed out a laugh. “I can’t even with you.”
I grabbed the menus from the small holder on the table and held it out to her.
She shook her head. “Nah, just order me whatever you usually have. I’m guessing you know what all the good stuff here is.”
Placing the menus back in the holder, I asked, “So, what are you working on?” I motioned to the papers in front of her.
“Just music.” She shrugged.
“Like writing music?”
“Yep.”
I was frustrated. I wanted her to open up, elaborate. I wanted more than one-word answers and nights seated too far away from her on a couch that seemed way too big.
“You’re a woman of very few words. I remember a time when I couldn’t get you to shut up.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Yeah, well, Doc, that was a long time ago. I was a kid then.”
I realized it then. She was still angry with me. About that night. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. My memories of her were laced with lust, heat, laughter, and something on the cusp of young love. She remembered the ending. Not the beginning or all the good stuff in between. It was my fault.
I swallowed hard. “About that night—”
Her wide eyes snapped to mine. “What night?”
I leaned forward, closer to her across the booth. “The night,” I whispered.
Shaking her head, she whispered back, “Don’t.”
I was frustrated. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to talk it out. I wanted it out in the open. Free. So we could move the hell on.
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.” She smiled sadly. “We were young and stupid, and we both made mistakes that night.”
