by B. L. Berry
“Oh, no. Elyse …”
Simon slips out of his seat and slides next to me in the booth. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple before pulling me closer into his body. I hate that he’s the one comforting me. He tragically lost his wife. I, on the other hand, just nearly married an asshole.
“My wedding night was spent in the empty banquet hall where we should have been married and celebrating with those we both love. Instead, I was there calling hundreds of family and friends, many of whom had traveled quite the distance to be with us. I informed each and every one that the wedding was off. It was beyond devastating and easily the most painful thing I’ve experienced in my life.” I feel sheepish admitting that, especially when it comes to his loss, but it’s the honest truth. “Olivia, my best friend and maid of honor, and my childhood friend, Alex, took it upon themselves to write apology notes to accompany all of the wedding gifts we received before the wedding day from showers and such. Jason wasn’t even sorry. The asshole had the nerve to buy Aimee a ticket to the Virgin Islands and spend my honeymoon fucking that whore. That, right there, is my hell.”
I can’t bring myself to tell him about all of the horrible things that monster did to me. Months of manipulation and mental abuse before I realized what an asshole he was. We broke up for a period of time and I eventually found it in myself to forgive him. I’d really loved him. Or at least I’d thought I did. But the truth of the matter is, I was settling and he was less than what I deserved. And I should have known better than to say yes when he asked for my hand.
“Why’d he do it?”
His question strikes me as a little odd, but considering he just endured my Spanish inquisition, answering is the least I can do. “I don’t think there’s any one reason to be honest. I know he was angry when I decided to not go to law school after killing my LSAT exam. He knew that the humble paycheck that came with advertising wouldn’t afford him the kind of lifestyle he wanted to experience. We fought more than we fucked. And he rarely looked me in the eyes when he told me he loved me. That should have been a clear indication that we would never have worked out.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind shaking his hand.”
I choke on my water, shocked at his comment. “Excuse me?”
“Had you ended up with that asshole, you never would have met me. I’m truly sorry you had to go through all of that, but I wouldn’t mind thanking him for fucking everything up.”
Well, that’s one way to look at it. But I know it’s all for the best. I can’t even imagine a life with him now. Or a life without Simon in it. “I guess …” I’m not exactly sure how to respond to that kind of comment.
“I lost my wife. You lost your fiancé. But we’ve found each other. And we need to learn to trust each other whole heartedly. That’s what matters now.”
Simon takes my napkin and wipes a rogue tear that escaped my eye. I know he’s asking me to trust him in spite of having been burned in the past. And I want to trust him, I do. And if I want us to work, I need to be all in with him.
Because trust isn’t earned standing at the shoreline of the ocean. Trust is earned when you throw yourself into the darkest depths of the water. There, you are most vulnerable to all of your insecurities, imperfections and forgotten secrets. It’s all or nothing. There is no in between when it comes to trust. And after all that I’ve been through, this is the one man I want to hold onto my heart.
It amazes me how fate can take two bruised souls and ignite a passion so powerful it takes the pain away. I never could have imagined what started as a one night stand would end up with me finding the man of my dreams.
Simon brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. And then, like a thief, he kisses me, stealing my breath, my sanity, and my heart.
“Come on, let’s get you home. I just want to hold my girl in my arms tonight.”
I nod. But only if you promise to hold on tightly …
And let go lightly.
We return to his apartment, still empty and cold with bare walls and a thin veil of dust from being gone for the past week and a half.
That night in bed, when I hear Simon finally surrender to the pull of sleep, I softly weep for him, for the loss of his wife, his child. I can’t even begin to imagine the loss he’s experienced. I can’t even fathom how his heart shattered. And I can’t bear to know the depths of his pain.
It pales in comparison to mine.
And I fear the heart can only know so much pain before it is rendered irreparable.
But maybe this, whatever this turns out to be, will be enough to heal us both.
Tightly, I grab onto that hope, wipe a single tear from my cheek, and find comfort in the prospect of life after death and love after longing.
Seven
Coming and Going
“Hey, sexy! What are you up to?”
God, I love his voice. It’s breathy and gruff all at the same time. It drives me absolutely mad.
“Oh, nothing. Just finishing up some work I brought home with me. There’s a new business pitch coming up and I’ve been trying to catch up on some of my existing client work.” I push the papers aside and curl up on the couch.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“Never.” He is, unequivocally, the one person I would rearrange my life for at the drop of a hat. Our time together is precious and rare as it is and I love that he’s making the most of every free second he has.
The faint sounds of busy city streets rustle in the speaker of my phone and a car horn fires off in the background. He’s walking somewhere.
“Well, I was wondering if you were up for some company? I’m in the neighborhood and have some time to kill before I meet up with a friend for a birthday drink.”
“Sure. What time?”
And just like that, the buzzer in my place blares, slicing through the air.
“How about right now?”
I laugh softly into the phone and push the button, unlocking the front door. “Get your ass up here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he declares with tenacity. We both hang up without so much as a goodbye, knowing that a hello is mere moments away.
I quickly dart to my bathroom and survey myself in the mirror. Simply stated, I’m an overworked mess. So I slap on some Chapstick and toss my hair into a loose bun. This is about as good as it’s going to get.
“Do you know how alluring you are when you’re not even trying?”
I gasp and nearly jump out of my skin at his question as he takes a step toward me. He looks striking in his tailored olive green pants that make his ass look bitable, and fitted black button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows. God, he is the epitome of sexy whereas I look like I just got out of intense yoga class.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” A smile tugs at my lips and Simon wraps his arms around my waist, greeting me with a kiss.
The pair of us retreat to my couch where he pulls me in under his arm tightly. Simon tells me where he’s been the past few days … Seattle, Vancouver, and San Francisco, and where he’s going next … Austin and Nashville. And more importantly, when his next lengthy stint at home is — two weeks from now.
I tell him all about the latest mayhem at work, and Olivia’s pouty attitude about not having met him yet.
“I promise I’m going to meet her soon. Will you tell her that?”
“Of course I will.” Though I know I won’t be able to keep her at bay for much longer, I’m sure. Olivia is nothing if not persistent.
“Thanks, babe.” I run my fingers through his dark locks. He’s a week or two past needing it cut, but I love that I can grab onto it tightly.
I spy my copy of D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover on the coffee table next to the papers I was working on before he arrived. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Hmm?”
“The book.” I reach out to pick it up, thumbing through the pages. It was required reading for me in college when I took a banned books course to fulfill an
English Literature requirement. It has always stuck with me, and not just for its incredible, illicit descriptions of sex, but because of how insanely taboo it was for its time. I was surprised he saw my copy on the table and asked to borrow it a few weeks ago.
“Tell me, genders aside, did you relate more to Clifford or Connie?”
Simon pauses for a moment before answering thoughtfully. “Both, actually.”
I raise my eyebrows at his response. In a novel full of sordid affairs, it was difficult for me to relate to Connie on any level. I always felt it was a book of horrible people doing horrible things. How anyone could conceive a plot line that unhappy is beyond me.
“For starters, I connected with Cliff in the sense that he wanted nothing more than to satisfy his wife in every capacity, but couldn’t. Connie, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be loved in every sense of the word — mind, soul and body. She deserved love and found it. Granted, it was with the most unexpected place, but you have absolutely zero control over matters of the heart.”
Ain’t that the truth?
“I’ve always found Connie a bit intolerable. That kind of love is supposed to be until death do you part. Her husband nearly died at war and returned home paralyzed. That alone should have brought them closer together, not driven them further apart. Cliff loved her so much he wanted her to find sexual satisfaction with someone else because he couldn’t give that to her. That has to be one of the most painfully selfless things he could have done for love. But no, she went and slept around and fell in love with someone else. That act alone is so disgustingly unforgivable.”
Simon smirks and hums softly to himself. “I love how you get so feisty when you’re passionate about something. Thank you for lending it to me, I really did enjoy it.”
I toss the book back on the coffee table and give him a quick peck on his nose.“You’re most welcome.”
“Hey, while I’m thinking about it, a week from Saturday my friend Andrew and his wife Emily are having a barbecue at his place out in the suburbs. You interested in going?”
A chance to actually meet some of his friends? Absolutely! My stomach flips in excitement. “That sounds great. Should I plan on making something to bring?”
“Nah, he’s been throwing this end of summer party every August for the past few years. He’s got it down to an art. And they recently adopted this adorable mini sheepadoodle named Moose.”
“A sheepa-what?”
Simon snorts with an impish smile. “It’s a dog. And I promise you will freak out over how cute that thing is.” Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips against mine and I melt right into his mouth. He parts my lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss and my body roars in response. It’s as if my lips are on fire and his touch is the only way to put out the flame.
Simon pulls away all too soon and looks down at his watch, cringing. “I should probably get going, babe.”
I’m not ready to say goodbye to him yet. It feels like he just got here. “Do you think it’d be okay if I joined you for a drink tonight? It’s been a terribly long day and a cold beer with my man and his friend sounds like the perfect way to end the night.”
Simon presses his lips together and sighs deeply. “Under normal circumstances I’d absolutely bring you. In fact, I want you to meet Carter. But this guy recently got divorced and his ex-wife is the poster child for psychos who need a restraining order. He’s very much anti-women right now and I’d rather you wait to meet him under better circumstances, not this messy situation he’s found himself in.”
I nod, understanding the request. It would be rude to flaunt your blooming relationship in front of someone going through the turmoil of heartbreak.
“I’m sorry,” he sing-songs apologetically.
“It’s okay. I get it.” I pick a piece of lint off of his shirt and cast it to the wayside. “Do you think you’d be able to come over when you’re done? Stay the night?” I walk my index and middle finger up his chest and play with his top button, insinuating what would be waiting for him when he gets back later on.
He regretfully shakes his head. “I have to catch an early flight tomorrow, remember? I’m headed to Austin to cover the latest music festival.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I don’t know why I say it because up until thirty minutes ago I had no idea he was going to Austin. But knowing that he’s going out of town makes me want to see him even more tonight. “If anything changes …?” I trail off, hopefully.
“If anything changes, I promise I’ll be here without a second thought.”
Eight
Tail
The hours in the day have practically crawled backwards. Ever since my lunch meeting, I have done nothing but pretend to work when in reality, I’ve simply sat here daydreaming of Simon. It’s been two painfully slow weeks since I saw him last and each day has been seemingly longer than the one before.
“So do I really get to meet Mr. Sex in a Suit tonight?” Olivia bounces on her toes and, if she hadn’t asked that particular question, I would have assumed she really had to pee.
“Would you please stop calling him that?” I shut my laptop and stuff it into my bag. If she’s not careful, she’s going to slip up and call him some pet name when they meet and I’ll be the one that has some explaining to do.
“Sorry, let me try that again. Am I finally going to meet the infamous Sexy Simon this evening?” she breathes in her best phone sex operator voice.
Without warning, I snort. And Olivia’s cackle fills the office. “Yes, we have dinner reservations at eight-thirty and we’ll meet you and Alex at Vertigo after.” Olivia squeals and claps her hands. My insides are reacting the same way and I’m overjoyed that one of the most important people in my life will meet my two very best friends. “You didn’t invite anyone else, right? I don’t want him to get overwhelmed. Not that he would, it’s just that things are going really well and I want to take baby steps so I don’t scare him off. Or freak myself out for that matter.”
I don’t tell her that I’ve been asking Simon to meet her for a while now, but circumstances never prevailed. He’s always traveling or wanting to spend time one on one. But since we’re making things official, he needs to officially start to meet the people who are important to me.
“It’ll be fine. I promise to behave on the dance floor.” Olivia throws her bag over her shoulder and heads toward the elevators with me right on her heels.
Olivia’s definition of behaving good is simply being good at being naughty.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
We finish collecting our things and head toward the lobby. Olivia presses the down button in the elevator bank then turns to face me.
“So is the sex still great? You’re not getting bored?”
The way she says it makes me feel cheap, even though I know that’s not her intention.
“You could say that,” I say with the most stupid ass grin on my face. “But it’s more than that now. He’s a really great guy and I don’t want to fuck this up. Whatever this is.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open, welcoming us to another well-deserved weekend. Just as I’m crossing the threshold, Olivia grabs my arm and pulls me back to her.
“Wait a minute, Chica.”
“What?” I boom. My patience is wearing thin and I really want to get home, finish cleaning up and jump in the shower without feeling rushed for time.
Olivia grabs both of my shoulders and inspects my face closely. Her eyes squint, her nose scrunches up and she tilts her head curiously.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Love?” I scoff at Olivia’s insinuation. “I don’t buy into that whole insta-love crap. I practically just met the man. Let me enjoy being infatuated with him for a few months, okay?”
“Oh, whatever. You’re ten times happier after a month and a half with Simon than you were after years with Jason.”
Ugh.
“Don’t say his nam
e anymore. Okay? And maybe one day it’ll be love. But that day is not today. And it’s probably not going to be tomorrow. But I promise to let you know if it ever happens.”
“Just don’t go denying your heart. It knows what you want before your head does.”
“Thanks, Yoda.”
I watch the clock on the wall. With outstretched arms and trembling hands, it counts down the seconds until I get to see him again. It’s as if the world awaits his arrival in a restless anticipation. Only forty-two minutes to go until I’m in his hold again … and it can’t get here fast enough.
I love that he’s so passionate about his job, even though his travel schedule leaves little to be desired. I can’t imagine how he can truly settle down with his schedule. We’ve talked about me traveling with him on an upcoming assignment, but so far my work schedule simply hasn’t allowed for the time off on such short notice.
Swiftly, I head back into the bathroom to touch up my lip gloss for the hundredth time. I run my fingers through my long blonde locks, making sure it falls perfectly around my face. The plum sway dress that adorns my body has a bit of a retro feel to it, but it’s my favorite to dance in. When I move, it falls around my body in the most perfect of ways.
Having him meet my friends — and hopefully my family soon, too — makes things between us feel far more official.
I’m hoping that meeting Olivia and Alex at the dance club will help Simon avoid an unforgettable interrogation. At this point I’ve talked so much about Olivia, I feel like he knows her already. He’s told me all about his brother, Nathan — how they’re Irish twins, born just eleven months apart. They’re often mistaken for actual twins since they look so much alike, but Simon was the welcomed surprise. But Nathan lives in Atlanta and isn’t due back in town until the holidays. I’m a little bummed it’ll be so long before I get to meet anyone from his family. Then there’s his best friend, Andrew. We had plans last weekend to have a barbecue at their home in the suburbs, but apparently his youngest daughter came down with the chicken pox and Simon, the lucky bastard, has never had them. So that was out.
