Everything in Between

by Hubbard, Crystal

  “Then why not give it a chance?”

  Her voice low, she said, “You can’t build a relationship on a one-night stand between strangers.”

  “We’ve known each other for near on nine years.”

  “Last night, we were strangers,” Zae insisted. “We weren’t ourselves.”

  “You sure looked like you when you came to my room last night, looking for some.”

  In her white tunic and short, black skirt, Zae matched the stainless and white décor of the kitchen. She looked more like a cobra about to strike when she responded to his assertion. “I went to your room to give you the answer to the quote you gave me in the garden.”

  “That was just an excuse. You could have told me the answer this morning, or tomorrow night at the dojo.”

  “I couldn’t wait to let you know I knew the answer. I was excited.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “I’m going to kick you in the head if you say one more word about last night,” she threatened.

  “I’ll kick you right back, and I might use my titanium leg.”

  “You’d kick me?”

  “You’re a third-degree black belt! You’re damn right I’d kick you back.”

  She cupped his face. “Last night was a mistake. A lapse in judgment.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It was the beginning.”

  “The beginning of what?” she scoffed, giving his face a little push.

  “Of whatever comes next for us.”

  Zae tossed open the garage door, little concerned if it happened to hit Chip, who stood close on her heels. She stomped down the three stairs leading to the garage floor and took a seat on one of the cedar Adirondack chairs Gian had set up. Her heart raced, her pulse thumped, and, worse, every nerve between her thighs throbbed in remembrance of her night with Chip. His words touched her with results nearly as successful as the touch of his hands, his lips, his tongue—

  “Zae, are you all right?” Cinder asked. She leaned forward to grip Zae’s knee. “You look funny.”

  “I’m fine,” Zae snapped, glaring at a smiling Chip. “Never better.”

  * * *

  “You and Gian should still be at the mansion in bed, not cataloging wedding gifts,” Zae said.

  Cinder sat next to a small mountain of gaily wrapped boxes and gift bags. She and Zae unwrapped each gift, sorted it into Keep or Return piles, then recorded the gift’s sender. “We need to empty the garage so we can get our cars back in here, and I don’t want to put off writing thank-you notes. I want to get them out of the way as soon as possible. I didn’t realize we’d gotten so many things. Gian’s people in Italy sent gifts even though they couldn’t make the wedding.” Cinder picked up a silver platter from the stack of items waiting for Gian or Chip to carry into the house. “Gian’s great-aunt gave us this. It’s been in her family since the 1920s. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Without looking at the item, Zae grunted in agreement.

  “Gian had to meet with the contractor about about Sheng Li II this morning,” Cinder went on. “We’ve been living together for months, so it’s no big deal to put a honeymoon on hold for a while. We’re meeting with the adoption consultant this afternoon, too. We wanted to get the adoption proceedings underway as soon as possible. I think Gian’s even more eager to start a family than I am. We were talking about it last night, and Gian’s brother offered to give us his twins. Apparently, the boys are acting out in school, and—”

  Zae balled up the silver and pink foil wrapping paper she’d just stripped from an eight-slot bagel toaster. “That’s fascinating. Chip and I had sex last night.”

  “How was it?”

  “Why aren’t you surprised?”

  “It’s about time you two quit sniffing each other’s butts and finally got down and dirty. How was it?”

  “There aren’t words,” Zae sighed. “The boy knows his way around a woman’s body. I haven’t been treated that well in months.”

  Cinder looked up from her notebook. “Months? Who were you with months ago?”

  “Huh?” Zae busied herself unwrapping a big square box.

  “You said you hadn’t had sex in months. I didn’t know you’d been seeing someone.”

  “I wasn’t. I haven’t. I didn’t say anything about having sex.”

  “I can’t believe you were seeing someone and didn’t tell me.”

  “It was nothing. He was…therapeutic.”

  “Zae, are you saying you have a friend with benefits?” Cinder whispered.

  Zae sighed heavily. “He’s more like a same-time-next-year.”

  “Like that old movie?”

  “Yes.” Zae displayed the rice steamer she’d just unwrapped. “Only neither of us is married.”

  “That goes in the Keep pile,” Cinder said. “So who is he? How long have you been seeing him? Do the twins know? Who gave us the steamer?”

  “Zebulon Rice & Family,” Zae read from the gift card attached to the wrapping paper. “I met him five years ago at a seminar. He teaches American literature at one of the state schools in New York. He lost his wife six years ago in a car accident. We bonded over a discussion about Nathaniel Hawthorne’s hatred for female authors, one thing led to another, and we ended up wiping the floors of his hotel room with each other. We’ve been meeting once a year since, and, until now, I haven’t told anyone about him.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Zae shoved the scraps of wrapping paper into a black plastic garbage bag. “Then don’t say anything.”

  “You deserve better.”

  “I thought you didn’t know what to say.”

  Cinder tucked her ballpoint pen behind her ear and set her notebook atop a stack of unopened gifts. She took Zae’s hands. “You deserve an everyday, all-the-time love, not a same-time-next-year.”

  “I’ve got a drawer full of AA batteries, and the Hustler Boutique is only twenty minutes away. I’m fine.”

  “You deserve to be loved, Zae. To be cared for.”

  Zae stood and paced among the boxes. The garage door was open, giving her a full view of the Shady Creek Nature Conservatory, which abutted Gian’s property. The lush greenery and the trickle of the unseen creek gave Zae a sense of calm that almost—but not quite—stripped away her sarcasm. “I’ve got my kids, I’ve got friends. I’ve got so much love and caring, I could vomit sugar cubes. I don’t need anything else right now.”

  “Then why did you sleep with Chip?”

  “We didn’t sleep. We screwed.” She carefully kept her face averted from Cinder. If anyone could have spotted the lie, it was her best friend. What she and Chip had done had been far more than a mere screw. It had been hot and intense, and intimate in a way she hadn’t known since the earliest days of her marriage.

  “I wonder if Chip feels that way about it,” Cinder remarked quietly.

  Zae shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I left before he woke up.”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “Of course,” Zae snapped. “I saw him a few minutes ago. I’ll see him in class tomorrow night, too.”

  “I meant see him again, and you know it. To see where this thing goes.”

  Zae took her seat and grabbed another box. “It’s not going anywhere. It was a one-time thing, a momentary lapse in judgment resulting from too much champagne and romance at your wedding.”

  “The wedding might have been the catalyst, but you and Chip have been building toward this for years.”

  “Seven years. Since he graduated from high school.”

  Cinder laughed. “He’s not that young.”

  “Maybe not, but he lives like a college student and, come fall, he’s going to be one. He’s got no direction.”

  Cinder threw up her hands. “He served ten years in the Marines and he probably would have made the military his career if he hadn’t gotten his leg nearly shot off. When he became a full-time martial arts instructor at Sheng Li, I don’t think he planned to make it a career. It w
as something to do until he figured out what he really wanted to do with his life. He would have taken advantage of his GI Bill last winter if all that stuff with my ex hadn’t gone down. Even though he’s interim manager of Sheng Li, he’s going to school full-time to get his degree in education. He’s even taking summer interim classes to get a head start. If that’s not direction, I don’t know what is. It just takes some people longer to know what they want to do in life. Were you born knowing you wanted to be a college professor?”

  “Yes.” Zae gave up helping Cinder with wedding gifts, and she lounged in her chair, her fingers laced behind her head.

  Cinder rolled her eyes. “Then you’re the exception. Be fair, Zae. Chip is a wonderful man. I think you’re the one who inspired him to go into teaching. He really admires you.”

  “He’s a Democrat.”

  “And? What of it?”

  “I’m a Republican.”

  “I don’t hold that against you. Neither does Chip. Besides, you voted for Barack Obama. Didn’t the Republicans revoke your membership for that?”

  “He dresses like a retired surfer.”

  “I think Obama dresses like he’s still teaching Constitutional law.”

  “I meant Chip, not Obama.”

  “Well, you dress like a stockbroker,” Cinder said.

  “Honey, nobody looks better in classroom couture than I do, and you know it. So hush your mouth.”

  “You’re nitpicking over cosmetic details,” Cinder said. “The things that really matter are the things you have in common.”

  “Like what?”

  “You both have nicknames.”

  “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Zae snorted.

  “You love each other.”

  Zae laughed out loud. “You’re leaping to conclusions, Mrs. Piasanti.”

  “I don’t think so. Love is what enables you to put up with each other’s bull.”

  Zae snorted. “That’s why he hooks up with a different blonde every few weeks, because he loves me? Who’s the latest one?” She snapped her fingers when the name came to her. “Heather. That cross-eyed Pilates instructor who picked him up at the donut shop.”

  “Chip has needs, just like you, Mrs. Same-Time-Next-Year.”

  “That’s Ms. Same-Time-Next-Year, and lemme tell you sumthin’ girlie, I don’t need it nearly as much as Chip does, apparently.”

  “Is it the age difference?”

  “That’s the least of it.” Zae sighed through her nose. “It would be different if he were in his forties. We’d both be in similar places. He’s at an age where he should be thinking wife and children. I’m long past the point of making babies just to see what they’d look like.”

  Wide-eyed, Cinder glared at her. “Is that why you had children? Curiosity?”

  “Isn’t that why everyone wants a kid? To see what it would look like?”

  “The more I learn about you, the more I wonder how we became such good friends.” Cinder laughed.

  “I’m irresistible. It’s a curse, but I do with it what I can.”

  “I think you should give Chip a shot.”

  “I think you should shut up.”

  Cinder propped an elbow on her knee and tucked her fist under her chin. “Most people are less cantankerous after they get some nookie.”

  “I’m not most people, am I?” Zae shot back.

  Chapter Five

  Chip’s advanced students put themselves through their warm-ups while he stood in Sheng Li’s tiny lobby, pacing before the tempered, one-way glass window. He could see out, but passersby couldn’t see in. After the break-in that had prefaced Gian’s shooting the year before, Gian had replaced the old window with the new and improved version, which was shatterproof, bulletproof, and didn’t allow outsiders to see who or how many were inside the dojo.

  The last thing Chip wanted was for Zae to see him scouring the street for her.

  She hadn’t missed a class in years, not even when she was sick or nursing a minor injury, so he didn’t expect her to ditch tonight. But honestly, he never knew what Zae would do.

  “You can’t expect your students to be on time for class if you don’t show them the same consideration.”

  Still facing Lockwood Avenue, Chip cringed. He’d been caught, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

  “Were you watching for me?”

  It was officially worse. Chip turned and played off his discomfort. “I’m not looking for anyone. I wanted to make sure the brochure holder was full.” He patted the stack of Sheng Li brochures attached to the corkboard affixed to the wall adjacent to the entrance. “When did you arrive? I didn’t see you come in.”

  “I was in the locker room,” Zae said as Chip passed her to enter the dojo. “I came in early to use the whirlpool.”

  “Is everything okay?” Chip bowed to the mat before stepping onto it. Zae followed suit.

  “I’m still paying for all the dancing at the wedding. My lower back has been killing me ever since.”

  “Back pain is a natural part of aging,” Chip commented. “My leg has been bothering me since I helped Gian move all those appliances and punch bowls yesterday. I should take a dunk in the whirlpool myself after class.”

  She bit her lip, stifling the suggestion that she join him in the whirlpool. Imagining him in his trunks, his fine body being buffeted by jets of water, did nothing to strengthen her resolve to never repeat the night they’d spent at the Chouteau Mansion.

  Chip took his place at the front of his twenty students. Zae took hers in the center of the first row. The students raised their arms shoulder high at their sides, spacing themselves appropriately for their first exercise. They would run through the combination Chip had taught them last week, then learn a new move to incorporate into it. If time permitted, Chip would pair them up for sparring.

  “Give me twenty push-ups, Zae,” Chip said before the lesson got good and started.

  “What the hell for?” she squawked.

  “Make it thirty, and it’s because your belt isn’t tied correctly,” Chip said, stern.

  “It looks better tied in a bow.” Zae crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to her right leg.

  Chip took one of the tails of her bow and gave it a sharp yank, jerking her close to him. Zae’s pretty loop slipped out and the belt tightened uncomfortably. “If your belt is improperly tied, an opponent could cause you serious harm by pulling on it,” he said directly in her face. “Take a moment to retie your obi, do your push-ups, and get back in line.”

  Refusing to utter the appropriate “Yes, sensai,” Zae strolled to the edge of the mat. She undid her belt and began slowly retying it, purposely catching Chip’s attention. Even as he led the rest of the class in a series of punches and kicks, he watched Zae in his peripheral vision.

  She held one tail of the wide belt in her hand and guided it into the single loop at her waist. Up and down, over and over, she pushed the long tail into the loop, her gaze never leaving Chip’s.

  His lips parted. Perspiration glistened on his forehead. Zae suspected it had nothing to do with his exertions leading the class. She dropped her chin, her eyes still on him, and licked her upper lip. One of her classmates, a younger man new to Sheng Li, stared openly at Zae. With each punch, he moved closer to the woman in front of him.

  Zae gave the tail of her belt a sudden, decisive tug, moaning as she did so. Her young classmate drove his right fist into the woman in front of him, sending her flying forward.

  “Do your push-ups, Zae, before I make it fifty!” Chip ordered, his usually friendly tone brusque. He swiped a hand over his sweaty face. “Unless you want to join her, Mr. Cavendish, you’ll pay more attention to what you’re doing and less to Mrs. Richardson.”

  Giggling to herself, Zae began her pushups. She’d performed hundreds of push-ups, perhaps thousands, in his class for her many rules infractions. The push-ups had toned her deltoids, biceps and triceps—they’d done nothing to tone t
he surliness he inspired in her.

  Push-ups done, Zae rejoined the class. “Welcome back, Mrs. Richardson,” Chip said. “Your obi is perfect.” He bowed to her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sensai,” she sweetly replied.

  Chip swallowed hard. Such a gracious reply from anyone else wouldn’t have alarmed him, but from Zae—the hairs at his nape stood on end. “Let’s pair up for sparring,” he announced. “You’ll need a partner to learn the throw I want to teach you.”

  Zae trampled two of her classmates to get to Mr. Cavendish. She wrapped both her arms around one of his. “I’ve got my partner.”

  God help him, Chip thought. But he only nodded and turned to his own partner, a lawyer whose frame and weight were comparable to his own.

  Chip demonstrated the throw, a complicated maneuver involving the offensive partner’s foot hooking the defensive partner’s calf in such a way as to use his own weight against him to bring him to the mat. Moving slowly, Chip gently brought his partner to the mat.

  Before the rest of the class could try it, the floor shook from the force of Mr. Cavendish’s body flopping to the mat. Smiling in satisfaction, Zae stood over him, straightening the jacket of her gi. “That was easy enough,” she said. “Wanna go again?”

  “I thought these were friendlies,” Mr. Cavendish groaned. He coughed, grabbing at his back.

  “That is friendly,” a classmate muttered. “For Zae.”

  “Turnabout is fair play, Mrs. Richardson,” Chip warned. “He’ll get a chance to throw you, too.”

  “He can try,” Zae mumbled.

  “I played tight end for the Tigers,” Mr. Cavendish said, finally getting to his feet. He jogged in place a few times, regaining his bearings. “You caught me by surprise that time. It won’t happen again.”

  “We’ve had a lot of former University of Missouri football players in this class,” Zae told him, circling him. “They tell me I’m worse than any opponent they ever met on the field.”

  “You’re definitely sexier than any opponent I ever met on the field,” Mr. Cavendish said.

  “Fifty push-ups after class, Mr. Cavendish,” Chip interrupted. “I won’t have you speaking to female students like that.”