by K. M. Scott
“I really don’t want to talk about it, Sienna. It’s just over. I feel terrible about it, though, so if this girls’ night can help me forget, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Got it!” she says with loads of enthusiasm as she raises her hand to get the attention of the waiter. “We’re going to need something more than wine then.”
The man returns to our table and she instructs him to bring over a bottle of his finest cognac. Never a huge fan of brandy, I grimace at the thought of a cognac hangover. As he walks away, I lean toward her and say, “I’m not really a big cognac drinker, Sienna.”
“Honey, the cognac isn’t to drink so much as to advertise for a certain kind of man. Look around this bar. You’ve got beer drinkers, who you can do better than; wine drinkers, who aren’t really what I think would help you forget anyone; and liquor drinkers. Within that last group are men who understand that if a woman can afford to drink the finest cognac in the house, then she’s expecting a certain level of man. That’s the man I’m trying to find for you tonight.”
The thought of going with anyone other than Ian fills me with dread. I try to pretend that I’m all for her plan, but inside I wish I was back in my apartment on my couch reading his book instead of sitting in a bar full of men Sienna planned on having audition for the role of my next boyfriend.
“I’m not ready to meet anyone new yet,” I say as the bottle of cognac arrives at our table.
Sienna pours each of us a drink and lifts her glass to make a toast. “I’m not talking about starting some long term relationship, Kristina. Tonight’s about finding someone to give you a good lay and make you forget the mystery man. To great sex and its healing powers!”
I clink my glass and lift it to my lips to take a drink. I have to admit it does taste nice. Maybe I’ve only had cheaper cognac before.
Her plan works almost instantly, and within a few minutes men begin to surround our table, each one dying to join us at what’s obviously a celebration. If they only knew how depressed I truly am, they’d be running away instead of doing their best to win us. I smile and laugh at their jokes, but I can’t help but notice that most of them are far more interested in Sienna than in me.
Not that this is a bad thing. The idea to drink and then fuck Ian out of my mind was never going to work, no matter how I tried. Sienna may not believe it, but I know the truth. I love him and nothing and no one else could change that. Love isn’t something that can just be replaced.
“My name is Brian. What’s yours?” a voice says, tearing me out of my fog of thinking about where I really want to be at that moment.
I look at the man seated next to me and smile. Attractive with wavy brown hair and brown eyes, he looks like a banker or businessman in his expensive grey pinstriped suit. “I’m Kristina. It’s nice to meet you, Brian.”
“You look out of place here, Kristina. By that I mean, you don’t look like you want to be here.”
So perfect strangers can see it too.
“No, I’m having a good time. My friend and I are out for a girls’ night out.” Looking across the table, I see Sienna has a man on each side of her, both working hard for her attention.
“It just seems your heart isn’t in this,” he says with a gentle smile that shows his very white teeth.
“I’m not as good at it as Sienna, I think. Some people shine in crowds. Others are less comfortable and prefer one-on-one.”
I take a drink of my wine and feel a rush of heat cross my cheeks as I realize I’ve just intimated I want to be alone with him. I don’t, but at that moment as the merlot settles into me, I don’t want to be alone. He might not be the man I want, but at least he’s someone who likes me.
“Would you like another drink?”
My wine glass is almost empty, so I nod. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
Brian raises his arm to get the server’s attention and then turns his attention back to me. “Kristina, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m an actress.” I don’t say it, but I can’t help thinking I’m not a very successful one since I’m able to sit in a bar with hundreds of people around and not be noticed, however.
He nods and pretends to be interested, but I see in his eyes a look of disappointment as he explains his job as a day trader. I listen intently for any sign that he has the passion I love to find in people, but Brian is a businessman through and through. There’s nothing really wrong with that, but I like my men to be more intense and creative.
Like Ian.
We continue to talk, each of us pretending there’s anything interesting about the other person beyond looks, but Sienna’s plan has failed. Looking across the table, I see that’s only partially true. I might not have met anyone I have any interest in, but by the look on her face, she’s definitely interested in the blond man sitting close to her.
At least one of us will be happy tonight.
I look at Brian and say, “I think I’m going to head home. It was very nice to meet you.” Stretching my hand across the table, I tap on Sienna’s arm to get her attention. “I’m going home. I’m just going to catch a cab, so don’t worry about me. Talk to you later.”
“Are you sure? There’s more cognac. We can move to the other side of the bar, if you like.” Sienna’s not-so-subtle way of asking if I’m leaving because I dislike Brian makes me laugh, and after rolling my eyes toward him to hopefully show him I’m not leaving because of him, I shake my head.
“I think it’s just an early night for me. Enjoy yourself.”
I turn to say goodbye to Brian, but he’s standing now and I sense he’s looking to take our conversation outside. Why I can’t imagine since neither one of us set anything on fire with our discussion of how exciting we think our jobs are.
Sienna gives me a look as if to say, “Is it okay he’s going?” but I just nod and smile. Some company as I wait for a cab won’t be a horrible thing, even if it’s just someone silently standing next to me.
Of course, the minute I get outside it seems that every cab in the city has disappeared suddenly. I look up and down the street over and over, but nothing. It’s like fate is forcing me to move on, even though I don’t want to.
“I can give you a ride, if you like. My company has a car service we use, so I can have it drop you off anywhere you like.”
I stop my head swiveling left and right and say, “That’s really nice of you. I’m just going to take a cab, I think. But thank you.”
“There’s not a cab in sight. Let me get you a car and I can take you right to your apartment.”
I look once more up and down the block and sigh. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I have no other way home and my apartment is miles away from this bar in Brooklyn. With a sigh, I relent and say, “Okay. Thanks.”
Brian calls the car service and then says, “If you’re nervous, I can stay here and not join you. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of creepy stalker guy. I’m just a nice guy trying to help someone get home.”
Hanging my head, I say quietly, “Thank you. I’m not really a miserable person. Really. I’ve just been through something recently and my friend wanted to show me a good time. The odds were pretty much stacked against her with that, though.”
“I don’t think you’re miserable. You seem nice. Nothing like what I imagined an actress would be like. You’re down-to-earth. I like that.”
I thank him for the compliment and we talk for a while about the weather, our careers again, and other noncommittal, superficial topics until a black town car pulls up. As I climb into the backseat, he stands at the door waiting for me to say whether he can join me or not. I can’t be a total bitch, so waving him in, I say, “Please join me. It’s the least I can do since you got me a ride home.”
Brian and I talk the whole way to the Upper West Side, and in some way, I realize I do like him. Not in any romantic way, but as a person, he seems nice. That doesn’t mean I trust him, though, so instead of telling the driver my address, I tell him
Ian’s. I’ll just get out there and after the car drives away, I’ll make my way home.
The car pulls up to the entrance of Ian’s building and I turn toward Brian. “Thank you. This was very nice of you.”
Smiling, he leans in and kisses me. I don’t know if it should make me feel something for him, but all I feel is how much I miss Ian. I kiss him back and quickly get out of the car. He’s probably disappointed I didn’t ask for his number or give him mine, but I don’t care.
The car speeds down the street away from Ian’s building, and I know I should just turn away and walk home, but I can’t. I know he’s up there right now. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten out here. Now all I want to do is see him.
The doorman recognizes me and gives me a big smile. “Good evening, Miss Richards! It’s nice to see you again.”
I smile meekly, knowing what I’m about to do is a mistake. Walking toward the door, I wish him a good evening as he lets me into the building, thrilled to know Ian never told him not to, and my heart begins to beat wildly. I should just turn around and go home, but he’s just a few floors up. I can’t stop myself.
Pressing the button for the elevator, I tell myself this is a mistake. He’s never texted or called back after telling me we’d see each other again. What if he’s changed his mind? What if he’s found someone else to be his muse?
My heart sinks at the thought of him writing because of another woman. Being his muse had made me special. If he’d replaced me…
The elevator dings to let me know I’m at his floor and as I step out into the hallway leading to his apartment, fear grips me making it nearly impossible to walk toward his door. I can see it, that familiar entrance to his home I’ve walked through so many times before, but now it just looks like a black void.
Like what lies behind it isn’t somewhere I’m welcome anymore.
With every step, my fear grows until I reach the end of the hallway and hear noises from inside his apartment. Is he watching television? I lift my hand to knock, but a sound stops me dead. Placing my ear next to the door, I listen and hear a moan.
A woman’s moan.
I can’t move from that spot, yet that’s all I want to do. I desperately want to run away and never come back here again. Unable to leave, I can’t help but cry. He’s in there with another woman. Another muse. I’ve been replaced.
Like some pitiful, unwanted animal, I stay there on his doorstep as the sounds of him with someone else fill my ears. Finally, they become too much and I can’t stand it anymore. Running away, I stumble to the elevator as my tears blind me and I press the buttons to get me out of there before he sees me and knows how pathetic I truly am.
CHAPTER THREE
Ian
I open the door just as the last sight of Kristina disappears into the elevator. For a moment, I consider running after her, but I stop myself. I’m half-naked standing in my doorway after fucking a woman I picked up in a bar. This isn’t exactly the way I want the woman I love to see me.
Jessica, or whatever her name is, wants to cuddle like we’re some romantic couple, but I quickly send her on her way with a smile and an empty promise that we have to do this again sometime. I needed her to help me forget Kristina. She didn’t do the job, but that’s not her fault.
Grabbing my phone, I type out a text and even though I know she heard me fucking someone else, I hope she’ll read it.
Kristina, I miss you. Why did you run away when I opened the door?
Not exactly my best prose, but texting isn’t my medium.
I sit and wait for her to answer as I fantasize about when we finally will see each other again. I want to look into those beautiful cornflower blue eyes and see that she missed me like I missed her. I can’t wait to feel her lips touch mine in a kiss that makes us both forget whatever it was that broke us up. My body hurts I want her so badly, and only she can ease this ache inside.
My phone vibrates across the top of the table, and my heart slams against my chest as I anticipate her answer. Hands shaking, I pick it up and begin to read, knowing immediately that she’s just as moving in text as she is in person.
How could you forget me so quickly? Wasn’t I your muse? You’ve already replaced me. How could you do that?
The palpable hurt in her words makes me feel like someone’s stabbing me in the chest. I don’t know why she left, but this isn’t the message of a woman who doesn’t want to see a man.
Her texts continue to come as she pours her heart out to me.
Didn’t what we were to each other mean anything to you?
I thought when you told me you couldn’t think of anyone else that you meant it. I heard you with her when I came to your door.
My fingers twitch as I think about what to type back to her. This isn’t my best way of communicating, so whatever I say will probably come out all fucked up. Better for me to just listen.
A few minutes later, a much longer message comes in and she breaks my heart with just a few words.
I can’t bear the silence from your end. Are you getting these messages? Don’t you care that I miss you? Please say something. I can’t go on like this. Do you miss me like I miss you? I lie in bed at night thinking about you and wishing you’d call, but you never do. Why?
As much as I know I should message her back and tell her how I feel—how I miss her more than I can even describe and how I feel like part of my body’s been ripped away without her in my life—I don’t. Maybe I want the chance to say what’s in my heart in person. Maybe I don’t know what to say.
Or maybe I’m punishing her in some tiny way for leaving me.
Whatever the reason, I don’t answer her. Instead, for the first time in over a week, I want to write. Turning my laptop on, I wait for it to warm up as a hundred ideas for Silk race through my mind. The creative floodgates open, and I can barely keep up with all that I want to write. By the time my fingers hit the keyboard for the first time since she left, it’s like they’re on fire.
I type like a madman, words flowing through my hands like never before. I’m inspired by Kristina again. My muse has returned. A week ago, my creativity had dried up, gone with the woman I adored, but now I can see the end of the book. All those nights of missing her and being awash in alcohol are past now.
My writing comes out in ways that are entirely new to me. Always a very deliberate author, I’m now a man on a mission. Our book must be completed.
Nearly two hours later, I sit back and look at what Kristina’s return to my life has brought to me. The first draft of Silk is finished. I’ve never been prouder of any creative effort in my life, and I know it’s all due to her.
I take a shower, shave for the first time in eight days, and dress in clothes I know she’ll love. Now to convince her to see me after what I did earlier. Seated back on my couch, I type the best words I have and hope they’ll be enough.
Come to me. I miss you and need you. I was lost without you.
She doesn’t answer. I wait ten minutes. Then twenty minutes. Finally, at thirty minutes I begin to think I might never see her again.
No. I told her we’d see each other again, and we will. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but we will.
I’ll make sure of that.
A knock on my front door stirs me from my thoughts, and I walk toward it knowing it’s her even before I look through the peephole. I feel her close to me again. It’s like a fire inside my chest that burns only for her.
I open it slowly, barely containing my impatience to have her by my side again. She’s standing there, her eyes wide and filled with insecurity. I don’t blame her. How could I? The last time she stood in that very spot she heard me fucking another woman.
“Please don’t send me away again,” she says quietly in a plaintive voice that makes me want her even more.
“I never sent you away.”
She steps into my arms and in one long moment everything I’ve ever wanted is mine again. Her body melds to mine like
a missing part finally returned. Standing there in my doorway, I hold her and I’m happy.
I feel her sob against my chest and squeeze my arms around her to bring her closer. I want to crawl inside her so she can never leave me again. She sweetly fingers the buttons on my shirt and asks, “Is she still here?”
“No. She was nothing, Kristina.”
She looks up at me with hurt-filled eyes. “Then why did you go with her?”
“I tried to forget you, so I went to a bar and picked someone up. I thought maybe being with someone else would work, but all it did was make me miss you more. Then when you came to the door before, I had sense you were there so I went to the door looking for you.”
“I heard you with her.”
I don’t know what to say to this, so I pull her into the apartment and close the door. Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper against the top of her head, “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
“I wanted to die when I heard those sounds coming from in here.”
Tilting her head up so she has to look at me, I kiss her gently on the lips. “You have to forgive me, Kristina. Tell me you can.”
She hangs her head. “I want to say no, to tell you I can never forgive you, Ian.” She stops and stays silent for so long that I wonder if she truly can’t forgive me. Then she speaks, and my world is right again. “I can’t, though. I just can’t.”
I lift her chin with my finger and look down into that beautiful face looking up at me. “Forgive me and know I’ll never touch another woman.”
“Never?” she asks, not believing me.
“Never. How could I want anyone but my muse?”
She smiles and I know she’ll forgive me.
I kiss her forehead and pull back to ask her a much harder question. Looking into her eyes, I look for the truth as I ask, “Why did you run away from me?”
Her smile fades into a deep frown. “You frightened me.”
“How?” A surge of anger, not at her but at myself, rushes through me at the thought that anything I did made her frightened.
