Because of the List

by Amy Knupp

  “You’re going,” he said, facing her.

  Her lids remained lowered, her jaw firm. “I can’t do it.” She turned away from him again. “This must seem so stupid to you.”

  “Not stupid, no. Waste of your energy, yes. Because you’re going. It’ll be okay.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Alex?”

  “Paint fumes. Come on.” He grabbed her hand without waiting for her acquiescence and pulled her through the kitchen, down the hall. To her room.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He went for the closet door. There was a dress hanging on the outside of it. “This what you’re wearing?”

  “That’s what I’d planned.” Uncertainty filled her voice.

  He took it down from the door. Slid the dress off the hanger and tossed it at her. Spotting the black heels lined up precisely square to the front of the closet door, he smiled to himself. “I see you have your shoes ready, too.”

  She almost grinned back. “My jewelry’s laid out on the dresser.”

  He liked a woman who could embrace her crazy.

  “That’s as much as I can do, Scarlet. If you need help getting that on, I’ll have to call Vienna.”

  “I can dress myself, thanks.”

  She didn’t sound entirely committed to the cause, but he headed for the door, pulling it closed behind him. He paused and stuck his head back in. “Five minutes. Dress, shoes, jewelry. No dithering around in here about ‘I’m not going.’”

  She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, and he pulled the door all the way closed.

  He went to the kitchen. Maybe the three bottles of wine in the minirack on the counter were meant to be a decoration—he’d never seen Taylor drink anything alcoholic at home—but he grabbed the red in the middle, easily worked the cork off and hunted for a wineglass. After a futile search, he pulled a juice glass out and filled it halfway with merlot. Etiquette or tradition or whatever be damned.

  The door was still closed when he returned, so he leaned against the wall and waited. Ten minutes had passed. Eleven. He knocked.

  She opened it a foot and shielded her body with it. He could tell she’d changed clothes, though, because she’d grown by several inches thanks to those stilts she’d set out.

  He wordlessly motioned with his head for her to come all the way out.

  “Maybe I should change to black slacks,” she said as she emerged.

  Alex swallowed hard and bit the inside of his mouth. “You shouldn’t change to black pants.”

  The dress accentuated her slender waist, gathering under her breasts and making them damn tough to ignore. The neckline was modest but the creamy skin that Taylor didn’t normally expose got his pulse and his imagination working double-time. The delicate pendant around her neck gave him a new fascination with collarbones.

  She nervously grasped the loose material at her sides. “I don’t wear dresses often…?.”

  He waited for her to meet his gaze, and when she finally did, the doubt in her pretty green eyes faltered. For a moment, a mutual need seemed to stretch palpably between them.

  “You look…good, Taylor.”

  Damn he hated that.

  “Thanks.” The moment passed as she looked at the floor and fidgeted. Checked her watch.

  “What else?” He crossed his arms, careful not to spill the wine, and tried to keep from staring at her. “What else?”

  “What’s left to do? There’s no way a woman could be ready in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Hair. Makeup. Told you I’m not good at this.”

  “Get in there,” he said. He held the glass of wine out to her as an afterthought. “Drink this while you get gorgeous. I’m going back out there to paint.” Or break something.

  “Alex.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for…whatever this is you’re trying to do, but you can go home. Really.”

  “Nice try,” he said. “Paint fumes wearing off, though.”

  He expected her to argue—she was nothing if not persistent—but she looked at her watch and shook her head, distracted, before brushing past him toward the bathroom.

  “WANT ME TO GET THAT?” Alex called when the doorbell rang half an hour later.

  “No!” Taylor came rushing out to the living room and he wondered how she avoided twisting an ankle in those shoes. “I want you to disappear,” she hissed as she headed toward the door.

  “Just tell him I’m the hired help.”

  She stopped at the door and stared at him. Alex smiled, trying to act as though he didn’t have the overpowering urge to knock the guy’s teeth down his throat before he even met him.

  “Please behave yourself,” she whispered. She didn’t wait for him to respond—just as well because he couldn’t make any promises. She turned away, stood two inches from the door with her forehead pressed against it, and inhaled deeply before opening it.

  “Taylor,” a faceless, unimpressive voice said from the front stoop. “You look beautiful.”

  Alex clenched his jaw harder and dipped the roller.

  “Thank you, Joel,” she said, stepping back to let him inside.

  Alex didn’t have to look to know she was smiling widely at the flattery. Beautiful? Was that the best the guy could do?

  “I made reservations at a new place downtown that specializes in local organic food. I hope that’s okay.”

  And there was the health-conscious from her list. Suck-up.

  “It’s perfect. Joel, this is my friend Alex Worth. He’s doing some work around the house for me. Alex, Joel Cavelli.”

  Alex finally turned and got a look at the guy. He was three or four inches shorter than Alex and as scrawny as a teenager. His hair was thinning—he’d be half-bald in two years, max. In his favor, he didn’t have a pocket protector or tape on his glasses. His wardrobe was nondescript but neat…wasn’t that another criterion on the holy list?

  “I just need to grab my purse,” Taylor said, apparently convinced the two men could play nicely for sixty seconds. She walked out to the kitchen, her death-wish shoes clicking on the hard floors.

  The guy was a little overzealous as he took three steps toward Alex, hand extended.

  Alex nodded in an attempt to be polite. “Hands are covered with paint,” he said.

  “Have you known Taylor long?” Joel asked.

  “Most of her life.”

  “So you’re…a handyman by trade?”

  “I fly helicopters and blow up al-Qaeda by trade.”

  Joel’s eyes widened as Taylor came back in. She smiled at her date, oblivious to the tension that buzzed between the men.

  “It was nice to meet you, Alex,” Joel said.

  “Likewise,” he lied.

  The computer dude held the screen door open for Taylor. As she stepped outside, she turned toward Joel to thank him. Alex happened to look at just the right moment to see it—her eyes came alive as they hadn’t in…forever.

  He sat down hard on the second step of the ladder, realizing what a jackass he was.

  He’d been so self-involved, he’d disregarded the most important thing: what made Taylor happy. Judging by that look just now, it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Joel what’s-his-name.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WHEN YOU SPENT AS MUCH time alone as Taylor did, you tended to get pretty skilled at keeping the bad stuff to yourself. Embarrassments. Disappointments. This time, however, it was a struggle to act as if nothing was wrong in front of Alex.

  The past two weeks had flown by in an exciting blur—until yesterday. She shook her head against the thought of it.

  This morning, Taylor had deliberately had the car stereo on from the moment she’d picked Alex up. It had worked to keep conversation between them to a minimum for the entire ride to the home-improvement store. Now, as they entered the store, she made a beeline to the bath department, dodging around the Saturday-morni
ng throngs, just wanting this errand—the day, as a matter of fact—over with.

  “Yo, Scarlet,” Alex hollered after her. “What’s with the woman-on-a-mission drill?”

  “Sorry.” She slowed but didn’t look at him. “I guess I’m just over the romance of the home projects.”

  Alex had been chipping away at the list for several weeks and she could no longer avoid the looming prospect of putting her house up for sale and hunting for a new one.

  Of course, she’d been quite happily otherwise occupied lately and it’d been easy to procrastinate. She and Joel had seen each other a couple of times for dinner or drinks on weeknights, then gone out on the weekends to movies, to farmers’ markets. They’d emailed daily, slowly getting to know each other better.

  Taylor wouldn’t call it a hot, passionate affair, but that wasn’t what she was looking for. He’d kissed her a few times and it had been nice. But she wasn’t in a hurry to take it any further right now, and neither was he.

  He was perfect for her.

  She ran through the list in her head—again. Because it satisfied her to revisit just how ideal Joel was. There wasn’t a single criterion that he didn’t meet.

  This current thing—it was just a small bump in the road. Nothing to get upset about, and really, she wasn’t upset. Just disappointed.

  “Countertops first?” Alex asked, thankfully not seeming to notice her preoccupation. “Flooring? Tubs?”

  “Whichever,” she said, unable to care much about any of it.

  “Let’s get the shower taken care of first. They’re this way.” He pointed to an aisle in the back and they walked toward it.

  Halfway there, as they crossed the wide perpendicular aisle, Taylor glanced to her left and froze.

  Her head felt light—and not in a good way—and her chest seemed as if it was filling up with water, taking away her ability to breathe.

  Joel stood three rows away at one of the end-cap displays, with a short, slightly chunky brunette. His arm rested at her waist and his lips brushed her ear.

  At once panicked and heartbroken, Taylor rushed forward to the safety of the shower aisle before Alex could figure out her world had just come crashing down around her. Unfortunately, Joel looked her way just before she was home safe.

  Bile burned her throat and she truly thought she might empty her stomach right there in one of the display tubs. Air. She needed oxygen. She held on to the edge of the closest tub, which stood on end, and concentrated on inhaling deeply and evenly. Alex was about two models down, inspecting the shower as if the world depended on this decision.

  Taylor couldn’t care less about a shower.

  A clerk approached Alex then and they began discussing options, installation, who knew what else.

  As soon as she was sure she could make it to the front of the store without embarrassing herself, she caught Alex’s eye. “I’m going to the car. Don’t feel well. Take your time.”

  It was probably crappy to leave him to do her job, but she had to get out of there. Immediately.

  She made the monumental but unavoidable mistake of checking the end display again on her way past. And again, Joel noticed her. She rushed away without acknowledging him.

  The bright sun nearly blinded her as she exited the store, but the fresh air helped marginally. Until she heard Joel call her name right behind her.

  No. Not here. She didn’t want to face up to him in the parking lot, with cars driving by and people gawking. Without conscious thought, she took a left turn down the sidewalk, toward the lawn and garden department.

  “Taylor, wait up.” Joel’s footsteps weren’t far behind her.

  She had no escape, so she stopped at the first patio table on display. Held on to it to steady herself.

  “Taylor, I’m sorry,” Joel said, coming up beside her.

  She moved to the side, away from him, keeping her hands on the tabletop.

  “I need to explain to you,” he said.

  “It didn’t look like there’s much to explain.” Vaguely conscious of other shoppers nearby, she lowered herself to one of the patio chairs as if to test its comfort.

  “That’s Sheila,” he said, taking the chair across from her. “My ex. The one I told you about.”

  Wasn’t this cozy? Just two people sitting out in the Saturday-morning sun, discussing this man’s ex-girlfriend as if it were nothing more than the color of seat cushions and umbrellas.

  “You said you couldn’t come with me to the wedding tonight because you were going out of town. Last I checked, this is part of the metro area.”

  He looked down. Leaned forward nervously. “I’m sorry I said that, Taylor. What happened is that Sheila and I started talking this week. Tentatively. We talked about maybe getting back together but it was nothing concrete.”

  “That’s nice. Congratulations.” Her chest felt as though something was compressing it.

  “I didn’t hide that she was still important to me.”

  But she’d blown it off because the relationship was over. Or so he’d said.

  “She saw us at the symphony that night of our first date,” he continued, even though Taylor didn’t really want to hear. There was no way she could stand up and walk away at this moment, though. “I guess that got to her…”

  She registered what he was saying. “You knew she was there, didn’t you? That’s who you kept staring at.”

  He nodded. “I never meant to hurt you, Taylor. I like you…”

  A new wave of nausea staggered her, would’ve knocked her on her butt if she wasn’t already sitting down. A particularly painful idea occurred to her. “Tell me one thing, Joel. Be honest. Did you ask me out hoping to make her jealous? Is that why you took me to the symphony?”

  His gaze flitted away. Wouldn’t meet hers no matter how long she stared at him.

  “I asked you out because I liked talking to you.”

  “And the symphony? Did you know ahead of time she’d be there?”

  “Yes. But I…” He didn’t finish the sentence and he didn’t look at her.

  Taylor realized a gaping oversight at that moment—she’d neglected to add honesty to her list.

  She stood, unseeing, blinded by tears and humiliation. “Better get back to her,” she managed to say before she walked off to her car.

  She’d no sooner closed the passenger door—no way was she capable of driving in this condition—than Alex opened the driver’s side.

  “What the hell?” he said as he got in. Then she felt his gaze on her. His confusion was tangible. “Taylor, what happened? I saw what’s-his-name out there. What did he do to you?”

  That’s all it took—Alex’s concern, the way he was automatically, unquestioningly on her side without knowing what had happened—and the tears started falling. She shook her head and covered her burning face.

  “Can we just go?” she asked when she could get the words out.

  He stared at her for another few seconds. Touched her thigh lightly. “You have the keys.”

  Taylor squeezed her eyes shut and dried her face. Nodded. She took her purse from beside her on the seat and dug the keys out.

  Alex started the car without further question and drove to her house in silence. She would’ve preferred for him to drive to his house and get out, but she didn’t think of that until the car was in her driveway.

  She climbed out before he could question her again and headed inside. She went to her room to take her shoes off. Hide. Hope like crazy Alex didn’t follow her. Maybe he just wanted to run home for some exercise.

  Or maybe not.

  She heard the back door shut and decided action was the best thing. The house could use a good cleaning. Another one. If that scared Alex off, so much the better.

  She slipped out to the hall linen closet where she kept some of her cleaning supplies and picked up a dust cloth and the bottle of wood cleaner. Before Alex appeared, she ducked back into her room and cleared off her dresser to dust it.

  When
Alex sauntered in and plunked himself down on the decorative antique chair in the corner, she ignored the need to tell him the chair wasn’t very sturdy. Managed to ignore him, as well. She went over the entire surface of the dresser twice. She took her time rearranging everything once she was satisfied.

  “You about done?” Alex said.

  “Done with what?” Stretching out the chores for several hours was a distinct possibility. An appealing one.

  “Avoiding.” He shifted and the chair creaked. “Talk to me, Scarlet. I’m not leaving until you tell me whether you need someone to go beat him up.”

  He was attempting to get her to lighten up but it wasn’t working.

  She went around the bed on the opposite side of the room from him and attacked the nightstand. Before she was even halfway done, she sat heavily on the mattress. Alex wasn’t going to let it go. Wouldn’t walk away until she told him what had happened.

  “Yesterday Joel canceled on me for the wedding tonight. He said he was going out of town.”

  “He didn’t look very out of town,” Alex said. Her back was to him but she heard him lean forward in the squeaky, delicate chair.

  “Apparently his definition of out of town is something similar to getting back together with his ex.”

  Alex let loose a crude but poetic stream of swear words in Joel’s honor. In a twisted way, it tugged at something inside Taylor, made her feel less alone. He stood and came around to her side, sat on the bed a few inches away from her.

  “He’s a jerk, Taylor. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “I don’t think he’s quite seeing what a prize I am,” she said sadly.

  “That’s the first clue he isn’t good enough.”

  “Something like that.” She was far from convinced of anything of the sort.

  “I’m okay, Alex.” She stood and put space between them. “We weren’t really exclusively dating or anything. I was just…surprised. Don’t feel like you need to babysit me.”

  “I was going to work on your bathroom.”

  “Yeah. I guess we’ll do that another day. Sorry to waste your time.” She walked over to the window and adjusted the curtains so they were symmetrical, waiting for him to leave.