by Kilby Blades
The regret had started as soon as he’d had her served, but pride had kept him on this path. Wasn’t this how cops lived? A two-wife minimum?
Was it really too late to win her back? Especially when he’d told her that the divorce was nullified do to a freaking mishap. Or maybe it was a miracle. “I’m sorry. About everything,” he said. “Annie?”
“I’m done. Three stitches. No room for a Nike swoosh, sorry. I did add a Scooby Doo Band-Aid in honor of Captain Chase here,” she said with a tentative smile. She closed her kit and wiped an eye on her way out the door.
It wasn’t too late. He’d make sure of it.
James pet his dog and whispered in his ear. “Time to get mommy back, don’t you think?”
Anne
What the heck was James doing? She refused to let him drag her through the trenches again. Because, quite honestly, she didn’t have it in her to go through it.
Anne tossed the sewing kit on her desk and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, silencing the raw emotions. He was just another patient. That was it. Nothing more.
Annie straightened. She could do this. The first order on the agenda was to call the attending. Maybe if she alerted him to everything before he walked in here and saw the disaster, he wouldn’t report her to the medical board. Or maybe considering the circumstances, he’d tell her how he’d have done the same thing. She couldn’t be sure. And having James here did nothing but fog her brain.
She picked up the handset on the desk and pressed it to her ear. Nothing. Dead. She clicked the reset button several times, and, just like in the movies, nothing happened. She slammed the handset back down.
“Hungry?” James’s voice filled the room, permeating through her and piercing her heart.
Anne clenched her jaw and slowly turned around. Barely stifling a giggle when she spotted what he deemed food. She motioned toward the cartons. “What is that?”
He shrugged. “Sustenance.”
On top of a medical tray, James carried two packaged mystery meat sandwiches, a fruit roll up, a Hershey bar, two individual sized cartons of Milk of Magnesia (uh, did he not know what those were?), a bottle of sparkling grape juice, and a pair of beakers, which lay on their side. Anne bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep a straight face. “Looks like you raided our employee fridge.”
“And the vending machine.”
“Yes, and the vending machine. Hey, did you know the phones were dead?” she asked, trying to distract from how cute clueless looked on him.
“Doesn’t surprise me, considering the storm.”
“Oh, right.”
“Care to join me for dinner?”
Anne sighed. “James, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Why, don’t you get a lunch break?”
“I do. That’s my fruit roll up on the tray.”
“I know. It’s your favorite. Hard to miss a six-year-old’s favorite snack in a grown-up’s refrigerator.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you to go digging.”
“Come on. Humor me.”
Anne pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. She knew what he was up to, and no matter how many times she played this scenario in her mind—hopeful he would come home—every night the silent prayer went unanswered. He’d clearly made his position known. So, why was he attempting to rehash an old, burnt-out flame now? It was too late. In less than ten minutes, everything would be final. She’d reconciled with it, as much as she ever could.
When she opened her eyes, James stood before her, the tray stashed on the desk. He gently took her hands. She narrowed her eyes, snapping them away. “What are you doing?” Her voice cracked, betraying her. So was her fluttering heart.
He didn’t back off. He was close enough that she could smell a hint of his cologne. Oh, how I love his smell.
He smiled down at her. “Just talking to you.”
If only she’d just added that lightening bolt. Harry Potter was way less intimidating than her six-foot-three husband. She’d use that nifty cloak of invisibility. Being invisible would be helpful right about now.
“I mean, what are you doing”? Her voice waned on her attempt to be authoritative, which, with her heart misfiring, was like trying to talk with a mouth full of marshmallows. She left the accusation hanging between them.
His unfair advantage—that breathtaking smile—was like a sucker punch to her heart. It rendered her powerless.
Anne heard herself swallow. Which meant, so did James. Which also meant he knew he had her heart. White flag waved. I give.
The lights flickered, and Anne flinched. She wasn’t worried about the power going out, because the generator would kick in, but the very real storm surrounding her felt more like a threat with James this close, looking at her like that, and them so, so alone.
“You scared?” James asked, his breath somehow sweeter with every word.
“It’s really coming down.”
“Better to be inside here, where it’s warm and dry than out there, weathering the storm.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
James smiled, accentuating his ridged jaw line. “So, shall I ask again? Care to eat?”
Anne considered the sandwiches. Her stomach must have accepted the invitation without her permission because it rumbled at his request. Embarrassed, she grabbed at her midsection with both hands.
He raised a brow at her stomach. “Seems like I have my answer.”
“I’ll eat my fruit roll up first.”
“Deal.”
James
James grabbed the tray of food and led Anne back into the break room, which he’d dubbed as Carrie’s locker room in his mind. Blood was still splattered on the floor. He used some Clorox wipes, a few towels, and a can of Febreze for a quick clean—he didn’t want to be away from Chase any longer than necessary.
Speaking of which, Chase’s breathing remained steady. The gauze Anne had wrapped around his midsection to bind the stitches for when they moved him to the vet had only a trace of blood. As far as he could tell, his partner was doing okay. Probably just resting now. But when he woke up, James wanted to be the first person he saw.
“You cleaned up,” Anne declared with an overly-surprised tone.
“A little. I didn’t want you to be grossed out while eating.”
She leered at him. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”
“In any case, it’s been a long time since we’ve eaten as a family. You shouldn’t have to eat in The Overlook Hotel.”
Anne’s cheeks seemed to warm at the mention of family. “Good point.”
“Milk?” he offered when she peeled open the sandwich’s plastic wrap.
“Nope.”
James lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself.” He cracked open the bottle but she slapped it out of his had, busting into hysterics.
“I so wanted to let you, but I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“What?”
She laughed so hard, she snorted.
James shook his head, clueless. “What’s so funny?”
Anne’s hyperventilating forced her to do some labored breathing exercises. “I just can’t. I can’t. I’m dead.”
“Clearly.” James set the carton of milk down and fanned her face. “Delusional.”
“No.” She sucked in a shaking breath, pointing at the milk, tears in her eyes. “That’s Milk of Magnesia. Unless you want to clean your colon in the next thirty minutes, I suggest you give that milk a hard pass.”
James held up the carton. He winced at the clear direction scripted on the back. “What the…why is this in your break room fridge?”
“Because,” she panted, trying to catch her breath, “because it doubles as our medical overstock.”
“Good to know.”
James chucked the two cartons in the trash before unscrewing the lid of the sparkling grape juice—also found in the fridge—and double checked for medical anomaly uses. Then he handed Anne a beaker.
&n
bsp; Her laughing faded. “What’s this for?”
A sudden unease washed over him. “It’s the closest I could find to a champagne glass.”
Anne took the beaker. “Okay. I’ll play. What are we celebrating?”
James paused. He allowed this moment to fill his mind with everything his eyes could take in. From the top of her sandy-blonde hair tied in a damp, messy bun, to her chocolate-colored eyes, which some would say were set too far apart, to her full lips. She never needed lip gloss. They maintained a pink tint that seemed to shine at all times. Her skin flushed under his stare. He smiled, remembering that same flush when they first time he laid eyes on her.
“Remember how we met?” He poured the juice, and it bubbled to the top of the beaker, even when it was only halfway full.
“I do.”
“Remember what I said?”
“You said a lot of things. You were under heavy anesthesia following the surgery.”
James took her free hand and placed it on the right side of his abdomen, right where he still had the surgical scar. When her hand touched him, her breath caught again.
“My appendix burst. You were there when I woke up.”
Anne rubbed the spot where the silver-colored scar remained.
“And now you have a matching set,” she said, jutting her chin to his forehead.
“But do you remember what I said?” he asked, pouring himself an equal share of the juice.
“That there were six inches between where my hands saved your life to where they now held your heart.”
“Exactly.”
A tear dripped from Anne’s eye. His chest ached.
“What’s your point, James?” Anne asked, almost a plea.
“I mean, you still have that hold. From my gut to my heart to my head.”
She squeezed her eyes. “You filed.”
“I was wrong.”
Her eyes opened, meeting his. “Yes, you were. But that can’t change things now. Look,” she nodded at the clock on the wall. It’s after midnight. The divorce is final. You’re a free man.”
“No, that’s not true.”
“But it is. You can’t un-sign that line. Or un-say the accusations you made. Or un-hurt the pain you caused.”
James scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “In part, yes. I’ll spend a lifetime proving to you how wrong I was and how very sorry I am. But the other part . . . I can.”
“What do you mean?”
God, he needed his cell phone for this. The screen shot his lawyer sent him was all the proof he needed. But this stupid night ruined all his carefully-laid plans to woo her back. He’d have to improvise.
“I got a call last week from my lawyer. She sent me something.”
“A bill? Because I already paid for my share.”
James sighed. “No, not a bill. May I finish?”
Anne smirked. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Especially over these fancy beakers of grape juice. I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“She sent me a screen shot of something regarding our divorce.”
Anne’s eyes grew big. “What do you mean? I didn’t get anything regarding it.”
“I know. I did some freelance work for her on a few security details and asked her for a favor.”
Anne shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Your social security number was entered wrong.”
“What do you mean? I typed it in.”
James shook his head. “Incorrectly. So the divorce can’t be final until that’s taken care of. She was going to call you, but I asked her to let me tell you, that I was wrong about the divorce, and to give me a week to fix it with you. I wanted the chance to talk to you. To tell you how I feel. To tell you how sorry I was—how sorry I am.”
He caught her gaze and held it, making sure she heard every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the text messages. I thought you were seeing your Dr. Allen and that’s why you lied about working late hours.”
Anne dropped her head to the side. “I just didn’t like you getting upset about my hours. That’s why I lied. But I shouldn’t have. Joe was just doing what I asked. Not mentioning work when he asked if I was still coming.”
“No, that was my fault. I’m sorry I let my insecurities dictate how my heart beats for you. I love you.”
Anne guffawed. “Tonight completely distorted your thoughts.”
“No. I was planning to come in tomorrow, well, today now. But I planned to beg you to let me try again. I trained Chase to walk in with flowers and a well-timed whine. I even bought him a tux. That stupid tux took two hours of alternations. But he got shot and everything changed. Everything except how I truly feel.”
Anne’s eyes widened again.
“Please don’t say no.”
“James,” she whispered, looking past him.
“Give me another chance.”
She stiffened and her mouth dropped. “No. James—”
“I’ll do anything . . .”
Anne gripped James’ chin and forced his head to turn. “Look!”
Before James could fully turn, he heard the most beautiful sound he could imagine. Chase whined and blinked rapidly before trying to lift his head. James dropped the beaker, and in one swift motion had Chase’s head in his hands, pressing his face into his partner’s neck. “Hey, buddy! Welcome back.”
Anne
Anne’s heart swelled. Chase’s whimper was the most amazing sound she had every heard. She slowly stood and approached Chase. “How you doing, big guy?”
At the sound of her voice, Chase’s tail started thumping against the table. He whined a howl as German shepherds do and lapped her face as if it was a T-bone marinated in beef gravy.
“Well, I missed you too.”
Chase started to squirm, and Anne laid her hand over his body. “Shhh, buddy. Hold still, boy. You don’t want to over do it.”
His whining intensified, but not typical of pain, rather joy. He was greeting his people.
Anne grabbed a pin light from the tray and bumped James out of the way, checking Chase’s pupils, mouth, and wound. “Good boy.”
James’ stroked his fur and Chase watched him, his tail thumping again. “I know, buddy. Let Anne look you over.”
Anne nodded, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. “I think he’s going to be alright.”
Chase’s head knocked Anne’s arm out of his way, throwing her off balance. Her foot slipped on a wet spot, and she slipped. Before she could hit the floor, James grabbed her and pulled her close, their noses nearly touching. Her heart competed for a new world record for beats per minute.
“Thank you.”
James’s smolder said it all. He wanted her. For as many reservations as she had about starting over, she couldn’t resist the desire that thundered through her. Before she lost the nerve, she stood on her tiptoes and smashed her lips against his.
James crushed her to him, then, in one sudden movement, scooped her up under her rear. She wrapped her legs around his waist and devoured his mouth. He met her need with heat of his own.
Anne finally broke the kiss, searching his eyes. She loved what she found there. Desire. Love.
“So, we’re still married?”
“We are.”
“And it’s officially Valentine’s Day?”
“Ten after.”
Anne’s eyes flickered to the door. “Care to turn the worst Valentine’s Day into the most intense?”
James swallowed. “Definitely.”
“You think Chase will be okay for a few minutes?”
A coy smile draped across his face. “If I tell him to stay. Why do you ask?”
“Because there’s a gurney in our locker room that I’m pretty sure hasn’t been, uh, slept on in a very long time.”
James went brows up. “Are you suggesting I take advantage of you, wife?”
“Technically, husband, you’re in my place of employment so, if anything, I’d be taking advantage of you.”
&
nbsp; James cocked his lips to the side, eyeing her cautiously.
“Unless you don’t want to—”
“Chase, halt,” James ordered in his commanding voice as he effortlessly plucked Anne’s legs from around his waist and flipped her over his shoulder in a very sexy fireman hold. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“A minute?” Anne balked.
“Trust me, he’ll wait for me as long as I ask. And as soon as I get you out of those scrubs, I’ll be sure to give you an incredibly exhilarating minute. It is Valentine’s Day and all. Cupid demands exhilarating.”
“Definition of Love” by Ceri Grenelle
Stupid Awesome Love Series #0.5
Rosie
"Cold. Cold. Cold. It's cold. Fuck-fuckety fuck it's cold."
Damn, that's almost catchy. I could make a Christmas carol out of it. Except it's no longer Christmas. Father Time has given way to a baby New Year. It's shiny and cooing and reminding all New Yorkers that their year must start in icy, slushy, thirty-degree misery.
It's now 1980. January has come and gone like the hangover after my sister Nancy's drunken New Year's Eve party. We get a buffer month to reflect back on the good times of 1979, and then February happens, and it's time to get on with living our lives.
You'd think after the hectic holiday season, we'd get a break from the gatherings and marketed ploys by card companies and department stores.
But no. Come February, the cheery red of the holiday season is replaced with a red so thick and fluffy it can only mean one thing.
Valentine's Day.
That special time of year when, once you finally get over not having a date to all the holiday and new year's parties, couples come out of hibernation like clockwork. They rub it in your face that you are single as fuck and no one will ever tolerate your love of work, meaning it's impossible to maintain a relationship.
