The One That Got Away

by Jamie Sobrato

  “I want you to help me in the morning,” he blurted, recalling that he’d learned carpentry at Izzy’s age.

  Of course, she looked about as much like a girl who wanted to learn carpentry as he looked like a guy who wanted to wear a pink boa. But still. He had to try something. And he didn’t know what else to do.

  She gave no reply.

  “I want you to do your part to repay Ginger for her generosity in letting us stay here, so you can start working as my assistant first thing in the morning. We’ve got windows to repair.”

  He took note of her expensive-looking designer jeans and flimsy halter top. “Oh, and make sure you wear something you can get dirty in.”

  Finally Marcus started to open the door, but then he paused. He was doing this all wrong, he knew. She didn’t want some guy standing in the doorway barking orders at her. She wanted love and understanding. She wanted a shoulder to lean on. That’s why Ginger appealed to her and Marcus didn’t. He’d been behaving about as warmly as a rock.

  He turned and looked at her again, stretched out on the bed, her back to him. He should go to her bedside, he thought. Sit down, put a hand on her shoulder, tell her he loved her.

  But even thinking the words made his throat tighten to block them. Saying them aloud…there wouldn’t be any taking them back. They’d lay down a world of expectations before him.

  He willed himself to go to her and say something loving—anything—but he remained frozen in the doorway, unable to choke out even a simple “good night.” Instead he turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

  He looked around the house for Ginger and found her bedroom door standing ajar, soft lamplight pouring out.

  “Hello?” he called quietly. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  He went into the room and found her standing at the window, looking out into the darkness as she unbraided her hair. She turned to face him. “How did it go?”

  He shrugged. “I talked. She gave me the silent treatment.”

  “I guess that’s better than her screaming and throwing things at you.” She flashed him a faint smile, but something about her demeanor suggested she was still angry over what he’d said on the deck.

  He hated the thought of her being disappointed in him. And as she undid the last part of her braid and her hair fell about her shoulders, he felt as if something important was unraveling before him, something ephemeral and impossible to name. A weight settled on his chest.

  “I told her she has to start helping me tomorrow with repairing the house. I thought maybe I could teach her some carpentry.”

  Ginger laughed unexpectedly.

  “What?”

  “I…I think that’s a great idea. It’s just…those fingernails she spends so much time keeping perfectly painted and filed are going to get destroyed.”

  “That’s probably a good thing.”

  She laughed again, and Marcus breathed a sigh of relief that the tension from a moment before was dissipating.

  “You know,” he ventured, feeling braver now. “About what you told me earlier, about how you feel, or used to feel about me?”

  She nodded, her gaze searching his. “Yeah?”

  “I’m flattered.”

  He’d planned to say more, but the words escaped him. So he crossed the room to where she stood and pretended he was interested in the full moon outside.

  “Beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” she murmured.

  He turned to face her. “You’re beautiful, yes.”

  “Marcus…”

  All the latent desire that he’d been working so hard to ignore since their arrival, and then that delicious kiss, came rushing up inside him. He reached out and traced his finger along the delicate line of her collarbone. It was an oddly intimate gesture, probably the most intimate way he’d ever touched her, and he could see gooseflesh popping up on her skin.

  His gaze lingered on her chest, on the curves of her breasts that rose slightly above the stretchy fabric of her white top. He could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the outlines of her nipples became obvious as her body responded to his touch.

  She still wanted him. The evidence was written all over her. And she wasn’t pushing his hand away, wasn’t backing up. Her lips were parted slightly, and her breathing had quickened.

  Of course he knew the signs of a woman’s desire, but he didn’t know how to navigate this new territory they were traveling, the space between friends and lovers.

  A nagging fear tugged at him. He was taking advantage of her. He knew her weakness now, and he was using it against her. For good reason, perhaps. He wanted the best for Izzy, didn’t he? Would he have any chance at all of raising her without Ginger’s help?

  Not likely.

  These were the things he told himself while his fingertips explored the soft flesh of her neck, the silken curls of her hair, the firm curve of her shoulder, the long line of her arm.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  The rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed became too much to merely witness. He needed to feel her against him. And whatever she might have said remained unexpressed as he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  But this time…

  This time he had no intention of stopping unless she told him to. This time, he felt a rush of need so strong he would not be satisfied until he had her against him, without the barrier of clothing between them.

  “Marcus,” she said breathlessly.

  “Do you want this?” He shouldn’t have asked, but he saw the signs.

  He knew what she wanted.

  And she melted into him. “The door,” she said. “We should close the door.”

  Right. He led her to the edge of the bed, then went to do as she’d asked.

  A moment later he was back, undressing her, exploring her with his hands and mouth, and before he knew it, they were both naked on the bed, a frenzy of desire propelling them forward without thoughts or words, only instinct.

  Here a kiss, there a caress, and there a longing ache that needed satisfaction.

  GINGER AWOKE WITH a start, her heart pounding at the sound of someone breathing next to her. Disoriented, she took in the fact that her bedside lamp was still on. And Marcus was lying in her bed, asleep.

  She sat up and stared at him, catching her breath from the shock. Okay, so they’d slept together. They were adults. They could handle it.

  Dear God.

  She watched his chest rise with each inhalation, all smooth skin and sculpted muscle, and memories of every sensation from their lovemaking came back to her. She knew how he felt now, how he tasted. She could fill in all the blanks that used to exist in her imagination.

  But her daydreams starring Marcus were about far more than sex. She’d fantasized about lying on a blanket with him, staring up at the clouds, the stars. Talking for hours, laughing, reading to each other—doing all the things they’d done in college as friends. Only this time with the added layer of intimacy that would come, she’d imagined, from being lovers.

  Did it really work like that?

  Or would that added layer of intimacy only ruin friendship, as some part of her had always feared it would? Bringing on jealousy, insecurity, hurt feelings and mistrust…

  What had they just done?

  And Izzy…

  What if she woke up and discovered them here together? What if she’d already gone looking for Marcus and found his bed empty, and him in Ginger’s?

  That wasn’t likely. They still had time to maintain appearances, to keep Izzy from experiencing the confusion Ginger felt right now.

  “Marcus,” she whispered, nudging his arm.

  He stirred, rolling toward her, but didn’t awake.

  “Hey, wake up,” she whispered, a little louder now, nudging a little harder.

  He opened his eyes, frowning in confusion. “Hmm?”

  “Wake up. We fell asleep.”
/>
  “What’s wrong?” he asked, then yawned.

  “What if Izzy finds us here? You should go to your own bedroom.”

  He rose up on his elbows and looked around, still groggy. “What time is it?”

  Ginger glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “One-thirty in the morning.”

  “I don’t normally get up this early,” he said with a wry grin.

  “What if she goes for water or something?”

  “Is there some reason she shouldn’t know what’s going on with us?”

  His green eyes pinned Ginger with his question. He knew her weakness, and he was using it against her.

  She wasn’t sure if she had the will to resist him now any more than she had a few hours ago.

  “Don’t you think it will make a complicated situation even more confusing for her?”

  He gave the matter some thought. “I don’t like the idea of pretending in front of her. She’s old enough to know what’s really going on.”

  “Which is what?” Ginger blurted, before realizing she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “We slept together.”

  “I don’t think it should happen again,” she said, opposing feelings still battling inside her.

  What did she think?

  She needed time to sort it all out. Right now, she mostly felt grogginess and confusion…and fear.

  “I’m only sorry it didn’t happen sooner. I don’t think we’ve made a mistake, Ginger. Didn’t this feel as right to you as it did to me?”

  “Of course it felt good. I mean…” She paused, blushing. “I mean, I guess my problem is we’re both stressed out and confused, and I think we’re just using sex as a distraction.”

  She could tell by his expression that he didn’t buy a word of what she was saying. He had his own agenda, and he fully intended to pursue it.

  He cocked one eyebrow, but remained silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said in a teasing voice that meant he didn’t feel sorry at all.

  But he rose from the bed and retrieved his clothes from the floor. He pulled on his jeans for the walk from her room to his, then went to her side of the bed and leaned down so that their faces were only inches apart.

  “Night, Gin,” he whispered, and kissed her gently on the lips.

  When he was gone, she collapsed onto her pillow and sighed. Then she reached over and turned off the lamp.

  She lay in the darkness as the minutes ticked past, turning into hours, but sleep wouldn’t come to her. Instead her mind raced over the events of the night. Marcus confessing his desire to shrug off fatherhood. Her confessing her old feelings to Marcus, Izzy wanting to live with her… And then the grand finale of the night, this badly timed tumble into bed.

  After the emotional turmoil of the evening, it wasn’t hard to see why they’d sought refuge in each other’s arms, but that didn’t make what they’d done any less stupid.

  She got up from bed, the clock having just flashed 5:02 a.m., and found a tank top and jeans to put on. After showering, dressing and pulling her hair into a ponytail, she slipped on a robe against the early morning chill and went to the kitchen to make coffee. No sense in wasting any more time waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come. She might was well use the quiet to get a little work done.

  Ten minutes later, coffee in hand, she sat in her office waiting for the computer to boot up. Her supervisor at the college was expecting her to turn in her syllabus for the summer class she’d start teaching soon, so she could work on that, or she could work on something fun.

  Fun meant writing fiction. Unlike Marcus, her own writing had never met with any great commercial success. She’d published in a handful of literary journals, and occasionally had stories picked up by national magazines, but as she’d told Marcus, her first novel had been a flop, judging by sales, in spite of her prestigious graduate education. If she’d been smart, she’d have done what Marcus had—taken off with a backpack for an education like no other. But she’d been safe, practical. She’d wanted a Master of Fine Arts degree, so she could get a teaching job to support her writing habit.

  Classes at the community college would be starting in another week, and this would be her first time teaching Introduction to Writing Short Fiction. Since she needed to write the syllabus, and also develop lesson plans and decide on reading materials, she opted to be responsible and do the work she was getting paid for.

  Once she’d started on her syllabus, using a template she’d developed for her other classes, she got lost in the work for a while and was surprised to hear hammering coming from the other side of the house.

  Was Marcus up and working already?

  She glanced at the small clock in the lower right corner of her computer monitor and saw that it was already past seven. Then she heard the sound of two people hammering at once, and she thought of Marcus’s request of Izzy the night before.

  No way was the teenager up already. Or was she? Ginger’s office was located on the far side of the house from the bedrooms and kitchen, and she had turned music on, drowning out the little noises of an old house, which tended to distract her from her thoughts.

  Ginger saved her document, then stood up and stretched, looking out the window for signs of life. Her office faced north, giving her a glimpse of the lake through the trees. The sun was just rising, and the forest and lake still had the misty, soft look of early morning.

  She shrugged off her housecoat and grabbed a sweatshirt that lay discarded on the back of her office chair. Pulling it over her head, she hurried out to see what was going on.

  Outside, she found Marcus instructing Izzy on how to properly use a hammer and nails. They were practicing on a piece of scrap wood.

  “Be sure the nail is at least halfway in before you attempt to hit it that hard,” he was saying.

  A series of haphazardly bent nails littered the board.

  “But you just use a nail gun. Why can’t I use one?”

  Marcus glanced up from their work when he heard Ginger’s footsteps. “Morning,” he said, flashing a beautiful smile.

  “Good morning. You two sure are up early.” She couldn’t see Izzy’s eyes, but it wasn’t hard to read the girl’s posture.

  Pure hostility—toward Marcus, or the task at hand, or both.

  “I wanted to get out here while it’s still cool,” he said. “It’s supposed to be a hot one today.”

  Ginger could smell the scent of a hot day coming in the air. She wasn’t sure how, but it was a particular scent, indescribable but present.

  “It’s going to be too hot to work today,” Izzy said, taking off the safety goggles she’d probably been forced by Marcus to wear.

  “And I told you a couple of hours of work while the air’s still cool isn’t going to hurt us.”

  Ginger was impressed that he’d managed to get Izzy out here, and she figured she’d better keep at a distance so Izzy wouldn’t be tempted to make her take sides again.

  “Have you two eaten breakfast yet?”

  “No,” Izzy said, oozing sulkiness. “He said we’d eat later.”

  “I could bring out some bagels and cream cheese for you to have while you work,” Ginger offered.

  Izzy shrugged.

  “That would be great.” Marcus sent her a meaningful smile.

  She wasn’t ready to exchange significant looks, so she turned and headed for the kitchen.

  “Nail guns are dangerous, and you need to learn basic carpentry skills before you move on to convenience tools like a nail gun,” she heard Marcus explain as she walked away.

  “I’m taking a break,” Izzy said. “This is stupid.”

  Ginger could hear footsteps following her. She paused at the door and turned to find Izzy right behind her.

  “I’ll help with breakfast,” the girl said.

  “I think your dad expects your help out there.”

  Izzy shrugged. “I’m tired. I’ll go back out in a few minutes.”

&nb
sp; Ginger was still impressed that the teen had gotten out of bed to work so early without a fight. She wondered if deep down, and in spite of their conflicts, Izzy craved one-on-one time with Marcus, but was afraid to ask for it. Ginger made a mental note to test her theory next chance she got.

  If true, it would be another piece of evidence that Ginger’s presence in their lives could be a hindrance rather than a help.

  “Why don’t you fill these thermoses with orange juice,” she said, taking two silver containers out of the kitchen cabinet.

  Izzy went about her task while Ginger put bagels in the toaster.

  “So what do you think of working as a carpenter so far?” she asked.

  Izzy shrugged. “It’s boring, and it’s ruining my nails.”

  “I remember taking a wood-shop class in middle school when I was your age and totally loving it.”

  “Why?”

  “I liked working with my hands, and I liked that at the end, I had something useful to show for my work.”

  “Oh.”

  “Just think—when you’re done, your work will be a permanent part of this house. Every time I look at it, I’ll think of you. That’s pretty cool, right?”

  “I guess.”

  Izzy was examining a broken fingernail that had been painted purple with little pink daisy accents.

  “Maybe you could do that to your toenails instead of your fingernails. Then you wouldn’t have to worry so much about your nails getting ruined.”

  Izzy cast a hostile glance at her but didn’t argue the matter. “Did Marcus sleep in your bed last night?”

  Ginger’s face flushed, and her throat constricted. Did this girl miss nothing?

  “Why do you ask?” she said evenly, as she removed the bagels that had just popped up from the toaster.

  “I got up and found his bed empty. I was going to ask him if I could live with you after he leaves.”

  Ginger paused and turned to look at Izzy. “He was in my room for a while, yes.”

  “So you two are, like, sleeping together?”

  “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.” She tried to use a joking tone, but the words came out sounding snootier than she’d intended.

  “Well, whatever. I can figure stuff out. I’m not stupid.”