“Hot date last night?” he finally asked.
I shook my head. “Don’t I wish.”
I was going to leave it at that but thought better of it. I didn’t want to open the door and encourage him to walk right in. Even though I knew that George had touched on the no-fraternization thing with him in an attempt to apologize for finding the situation amusing, I could see Jeff quitting his job if he thought he had an inkling of a chance. He needed to stay employed and I wasn’t interested.
“I got pulled over last night,” I admitted.
“Really?” He set down his bag of potato chips and his eyes grew wide. “What did you do? Did they arrest you?”
Shit. Now I had just become legendary in his eyes.
“No, Jeff,” I said, my tone automatically coming out like I was speaking to a four year old, “I was speeding and I got a verbal warning.”
He resumed eating. “How fast were you going?”
“Eighty in a fifty-five zone.”
His eyebrows raised. “And you got off with a warning? Did you flirt with him?”
“No, I must certainly did not.”
I was surprised at how defensive I was – even if I had batted my eyelashes seductively at the cop, it wouldn’t have been like that tactic hadn’t been used successfully thousands of times. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world to do. But the fact that Jeff had confirmed that what had happened wasn’t standard procedure left me bothered.
“Then you got lucky.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“And there’s more?” he prompted.
“He lectured me. He was all ‘People care about you. Don’t forget that.’ It was odd.”
Jeff shrugged. “I’m sure it’s true.”
I stood so I wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. Why did I torture myself like this? Why was I torturing him like this? It wasn’t like I was fishing for compliments, especially not from him.
“I think I just need to go home and go to bed,” I said, disposing of my trash in the receptacle. “Alone,” I clarified unnecessarily.
Bless him, he didn’t touch that comment.
I kept to myself the rest of the day, shutting my office door and trying as best as I could to focus on work. Jeff interrupted me once to bring me my mail, but he wisely didn’t try to pick up our lunch conversation where we’d left off. He knocked politely, slipped inside and left my envelopes on the corner of my desk before leaving without saying a word. Before I knew it, George was standing in my doorway, making a grand gesture of checking his watch.
“I know, I know, boss,” I smiled, emphasizing the last word as I shut off my computer and locked my desk drawers, “I’m getting out of here.”
“Get some rest this weekend, Jeffries,” he advised, “or people will start thinking I’m a slave driver.”
I laughed. “I’m just hoping that I don’t get whatever my neighbor has. It looks nasty.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Heaven forbid you’d have to take a sick day.”
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
“Very funny. Have a good weekend.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
I grabbed my purse and pushed my chair under my desk. As usual, Jeff was hovering by my door, waiting to walk me out to my car. He waited while I locked my office, then fell into step beside me. Embarrassed at our previous exchange, I made no move to say anything and he was perfectly happy being mute, too. I had a feeling he was doing this more out of habit than anything else.
My phone chirped once, indicating that I had an email. I was grateful to the gas company for notifying me that my bill was ready and breaking the awkwardness of the situation. I stared at my phone as though the message was the most important thing I had ever seen, just so I wouldn’t have to acknowledge Jeff’s presence. He still escorted me through the front doors anyway.
“Lauren,” he said, quietly at first, then with increasing intensity. I must have been really ignoring him, for he finally grabbed my arm and stopped me from walking.
“What?” I put my phone back in my purse, the charade effectively broken.
“Do you know that guy?”
I stared at him, a blank look on my face. “What guy?”
He pointed me in the general direction of my car. It took me a moment for my brain to register what was happening. When I was certain that what I was seeing was really there, simply because Jeff had also made note of it, I froze in my tracks.
“Lauren, are you okay?” I heard Jeff ask. Then, “Is that Eric?”
Jeff must have been listening to the rumor mill at work, because I didn’t recall specifically mentioning my relationship issues to him and especially not giving names to the parties involved.
“No,” I said softly, still unable to move, “that’s not Eric.”
Backed into the spot directly beside my Sonata was a yellow Mustang convertible. As if I would have any problem recognizing the car or that its presence was there explicitly for me, its driver leaned against the hood, waiting.
I took a deep breath, willing my heart to continue beating and debated what to do next. How many times had I told myself I wanted this very thing to happen? Yet on as many occasions that I had imagined him coming after me, I hadn’t continued the daydream to decide how I would react. As much as I wanted to run across the parking lot and throw my arms around him, there was also a very real part of me that wanted to retreat inside the building and avoid all confrontation.
“But you know him?” Jeff asked pointedly.
“Yes,” I said simply.
“And?”
I looked at him, almost smirking. As much male bravado that Jeff was trying to project, if I had really needed him to protect my honor my purse probably would have been better suited for battle. The poor guy was practically shaking in his shoes.
“He’s fine. He’s my old roommate’s brother.”
“Oh,” he said, his face registering his relief. Then he thought more about it. “Oh,” he said again, his voice harder. So he had been listening to the rumor mill.
“It’s okay,” I insisted, as much to myself as to him. “I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend.”
My mind made up, I walked purposefully to my car, leaving Jeff behind. It felt like the world had stopped spinning and that my steps were moving in slow motion. My blood pounded furiously in my veins, reminding me that everything was in fact happening in real time. I cursed myself for selecting a spot clear on the edge of the lot; it really didn’t come in handy at times like these.
For a moment, we both stood there in silence, our eyes fixed upon each other. Matthew broke first.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” I returned. I was marginally disappointed that he didn’t follow up with his usual nickname for me, “gorgeous”, but decided it probably wouldn’t have been appropriate at this point.
“I was thinking,” he said, his eyes moving to the concrete as he traced circles on the pavement with the toe of his shoe, “that if you maybe weren’t doing anything tonight and wanted to go out to dinner with an asshole, then I know one who’s available.”
I stared at the same portion of ground to avoid looking at him further. He appeared just as nervous as I felt; maybe even more so. I remembered the only other time I’d seen him like this – at Thanksgiving, right before everyone showed up at his house. I thought of the picture still stashed away in my office desk drawer and how much everything had changed since that day.
“I wasn’t aware that Eric was here,” I replied finally.
He snorted, catching on to my joke. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as his gaze traveled back up to my face. The tension between us was still palpable, but I felt like the ice was thawing.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked him.
“You’re sure you don’t have any other plans?” he asked hesitantly.
He looked past me and I turned to see Jeff standing a
t his car, the door held open as he stared at us. I gave him an exaggerated wave and he reluctantly climbed in and drove off.
“He means well,” I said as we watched his car disappear from view, “but it’s never going to happen.”
“His loss.”
“So, where are we going?” I asked again, trying to push him back on task. I wasn’t really sure why; I doubted that the awkwardness of the situation would be lessened by sitting across from each other at a dinner table. At least we’d have food to distract us, though.
“I’ll drive,” he volunteered.
“I’m not leaving my car here. You never know who’s lurking in parking lots at night.”
Again with a snort, remembering the time he and Chris had rescued me after I’d had car trouble. The reference had been intentional, but after I’d said it, I was afraid that I’d hurt his ego even further. Like I didn’t want to be seen with him, or be in an enclosed space with him. That if things went south during our meal, I could easily walk out on him.
“Then we’ll drop your car off at your place.” It was intended to be a statement. If he’d had any of his charisma left to display, it wouldn’t have sounded like a question.
I knew what he was asking me to do. If I told him yes, it meant that I was ending this game and admitting to him – and myself - what I’d been trying so hard to conceal. It wasn’t like he could drive to my house once and conveniently forget where it was. If I told him no, it meant that I didn’t trust him enough with the information. That I didn’t really want him back in my life.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. As much as I had stuck to my plan of hiding from him, the mere sight of him standing before me confirmed that I very much missed him. It broke my heart all the same to know that he didn’t want me in the way I still wanted him, but I would take him however he offered himself.
“It’s not far,” I said instead of giving him a straight answer. He relaxed visibly as I circled my car and climbed in the driver’s seat. He did the same and I heard the familiar roar of the Mustang’s engine as it came to life.
The drive to my house felt both long and short at the same time, if that was possible. I kept checking the rear view mirror to make sure he was still behind me. Part of me feared that if I let him out of my sight he would disappear completely like a figment of my overactive imagination. The other half was afraid of what would happen once I got into his car. Our conversation so far had been largely stilted and incoherent. We were both so obviously nervous; could we ever go back to how things used to be before I wrecked it?
I parked in my garage like usual; he pulled in the driveway behind me. By the time I had gotten out of my car and closed the garage door using the keypad on the side of the house, he was standing by the passenger side of his own car. As I approached, he opened the door for me.
“Thanks,” I said.
I went to sit down and froze. Resting in my seat was a single iris. Heat rose to my cheeks as I picked up the flower.
“You remembered,” I whispered.
“How could I forget?”
“It seems like ages ago that we talked about it.”
Even so, I remembered the conversation like it was yesterday. I could close my eyes and picture the two of us back at Blake’s house discussing how Eric had bought me roses to celebrate my promotion, not knowing that I didn’t really like them. How Eric just automatically assumed that roses were the perfect go-to gift and didn’t realize that I half-heartedly accepted them every time. I was always too shy to correct him and he never picked up on the clues.
“It seems like ages ago that we did anything together,” he said quietly.
I slid into the seat and he shut the door smoothly behind me and walked around the car to climb in the driver’s side. I spun the flower in between my fingers, tears threatening to well up in my eyes. No wonder he had wanted to drive. He had come prepared, equipped with my favorite flower. This had been planned, whatever it was. If I wasn’t careful, I would read way too much into it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, staring at the petals until they blurred in my vision. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We drove in silence, partially because neither one of us knew what to say and partially because the top was down and the wind noise made conversation prohibitive. It was a beautiful spring day and I closed my eyes, letting the late afternoon sun bathe me in its warmth. I settled down into the seat, for a moment relaxing so much it was like the past few months hadn’t happened.
Matthew’s proximity to me was unnerving. I snuck a peak over at him from behind my sunglasses, wishing I could reach out and touch him. He was so close, his hand resting on the gearshift, dangerously near my leg. My gaze traveled up his arm and to his face, more handsome than I remembered. My dreams didn’t do him justice.
It didn’t take long for us to reach our destination. He parked the car at a Mexican restaurant just off the interstate. Despite the fact that it was Friday night and everyone in Fort Wayne seemed to gravitate towards eating out instead of cooking on weekends, the lot was half empty. We wouldn’t have to wait for a table here.
Before I could open my door for myself, he had circled around the car to help me out. He offered his hand and I took it, the electricity between us still there. I let go well before I wanted to, wobbling on my heels as I attempted to regain my composure. I turned to enter the establishment, but he stopped me.
“Wait,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder.
He ran his fingers through my hair, straightening the wind blown locks. I had always been a sucker for someone playing with my hair: Eric, my hairdresser, I even liked it when little Quinn pulled at it. Right now, I wanted to melt into a puddle at Matthew’s feet.
“I should have brought you a hat,” he grinned. “I’m not used to you having this much hair.”
Most people cut off their hair when they experienced a breakup or some kind of life changing event. Since I had rocked a pixie cut when I crushed Eric’s hopes and dreams, going shorter for me would basically have meant shaving my head. As much as I liked short hair, I didn’t like bald, so I had grown it out into something that now resembled a chin length bob. Ironic, since I was positive that Eric would have much preferred my hair now to how it was when we were last together. So maybe I was spiteful just a little.
“You missed the awkward stage where I couldn’t do anything with it.”
Those beautiful blue eyes filled with anguish for a split second. “I wasn’t aware I was invited.”
His hand lingered in my hair as my own eyes shifted downward. His other hand rose to my face, his thumb brushing the scar on my forehead. “Where’d this come from?”
I blushed. “A long story. Involving lots of alcohol, a coffee table and Eric coming over to Gracie’s.”
I could tell from the look that crossed his face what he was thinking. I was shaking my head even before he asked if Eric had done that. I was afraid that if I didn’t push that thought out of his head that we’d be skipping dinner and flying down the interstate to Indianapolis, where Eric would feel the full weight of Matthew’s ire.
“Eric didn’t even know I was there. I was hung over and fell off the couch when he started knocking at the door. So while Gracie lied to him that I was with my dad, I laid on the floor, bleeding out.”
“You probably should have gotten stitches,” he mused through a smirk.
I shrugged. “I wasn’t about to drag my sorry self to the emergency room. I spent the rest of the day throwing up and crying. Sometimes at the same time. It wasn’t my best weekend.”
His thumb traced the line of my jaw, tipping my chin upwards. His eyes bore into mine for a moment longer, searching for answers to questions that hadn’t even been asked. Then he broke all contact and began walking toward the building.
“Seems we have a lot to talk about,” he remarked as we made our way inside.
That was the understatement of the year.
Chapt
er Thirteen
There was no easy way to delve into all that remained unsaid between us. No simple way to dance around the questions and the answers that we both wanted. I knew he was feeling me out to see if I would even talk to him and my acceptance of his dinner invitation had surprised him on some level. Gone was any semblance of confidence on his part as to how I would react. We kept things light and impersonal, as if we had just met. As if I didn’t already know his deepest, darkest secret. We both knew the real conversation shouldn’t take place in public.
Even though my stomach was twisted in nervous knots, I forced myself to eat. I knew I would be hungry later if I didn’t. Besides, the nachos I had ordered were really good. I wondered why more people didn’t come here. They were definitely missing out.
“So, how’s Blake?” I asked between bites, tired of talking about work and the weather. We had just finished discussing what Gracie was up to; I figured it was safe enough territory.
“Good, I guess. You know, the usual. She works a lot. She’s busy being my personal therapist as always. She’s trying to learn to cook. That’s not going well.”
“She’s probably pissed off at me.”
He shook his head. “If she was pissed off at you, she would have cashed your check. But she hasn’t, and she won’t. What she gave you was a gift and there are no hard feelings.”
I took a sip of my Coke, confused. Sure, she had offered to let me break my lease at the very beginning when she told me about Matthew’s arrests. She had been rightfully concerned that I would have issues with the fact that her brother had been in jail and had a felony charge on his record. That was a different situation entirely. She had felt guilty about not offering full disclosure. I had disappeared in the middle of the night, moving out on her without an ounce of explanation.
“It doesn’t make sense. I know she didn’t need a roommate for the rent money, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.”
“I told her everything,” he admitted, putting enough emphasis on the last word that I knew exactly what he was talking about. “She understands why you did what you did.”
Shattered Page 10
