Not for a Moment

by Nadirah Foxx

  “She did.” He lowered the menu. “You’ve only seen me as an ass. I wanted something to go right tonight.”

  That was admirable—a man who went out of his way to give me a special night. “I appreciate it.”

  ∞∞∞

  The rest of the night continued in the same manner. Matt was unbelievably gracious. Spending time with that man was relaxing. It had been years since I’d been able to feel at ease on a date. I didn’t suspect him of anything—not even of trying to get me into bed. The best part was that Matt listened and didn’t mention a word about his job or April’s death.

  “So, do you live in Detroit?” I asked.

  “Actually, I do. I believe an officer should live around those he’s sworn to protect.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve got a loft over in Rivertown.”

  “The warehouse district?” Before I moved into my apartment, I checked out a brownstone in the area. It was too pricey for my meager budget.

  “Yeah.” Matt quirked an eyebrow and dipped his chin. “I know what you’re thinking. How can I afford it on a cop salary? There are months when I wonder the same thing. But I’ll work a double-shift, if needed, to make rent.”

  Another brownie point for Matt—he wasn’t afraid to work hard for what he wanted.

  “I’d love to see it some time.”

  He thrust his chest out and beamed. “Another night. Now, I need to get you home. I’ve got mass in the morning.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “I didn’t picture you as a church-goer.”

  “Every Sunday morning you’ll find me in Clawson. My foster parents raised me right. As a kid, I was an altar boy at Guardian Angels.”

  “Did you grow up in Clawson?”

  “For the most part.” The moment of pride slipped from Matt’s voice, and he became more serious. “I kind of bounced around a lot until I landed with the Pattersons.”

  Why did that name sound familiar?

  I got the feeling that Matt didn’t want to discuss growing up with foster parents. “We can talk about something else.”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head. “It’s okay. The Pattersons were good to me.” Matt glanced up. “Before you ask, I never knew my father. Mom overdosed when I was just a kid. My grandmother had too much on her plate to raise me, and my aunt had her own issues too. So I became a ward of the state.”

  Wow. I didn’t expect to hear that.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t owe—”

  “No, but I want to tell you.” Matt gestured for the waiter to bring the bill. “Rachel, I don’t want to hide shit from you. I haven’t been close to anyone since April’s death, but I’d like to get to know you. That is, if you want the same thing.”

  Did I?

  I was still vacillating about what I wanted with Matt. We had a pleasant dinner, and until just a minute ago, he kept his promise—no talk about his job or his foster sister.

  “How about we see what happens?” I replied with a grin on my lips. “Take one day at a time?”

  He nodded curtly. “I can do that.”

  ∞∞∞

  My alarm went off far too early for a Sunday morning. I started to roll back over and then remembered breakfast with Dad. I had exactly thirty minutes to get to his house. Bolting out of bed, I slipped on a pair of sweatpants and pulled on a hoodie. Sticking my feet in a pair of sneakers, I grabbed a dress off a hanger along with my purse and ran for the door.

  Dad still lived in Royal Oak, but his house was on the other side of Woodward Avenue past the zoo. The property was old—built back in the fifties—and too small, but he refused to leave it. He said there were too many memories within its walls. When Dad put it that way, I stopped bugging him about moving.

  Before I inserted my key in the lock, the door yawned open. Dad, wearing dress slacks and a button-down shirt, squinted at me. “Rachel? What are you doing here?”

  “Do I need an excuse to see my father?”

  “Of course not. Come on in.” He glanced at my outfit. “You planning on working out or praying this morning?”

  “Praying. Are my things still here?”

  Dad’s dark-brown eyebrows knitted together for a moment. “Where else would they be? Everything’s in your room.”

  I walked past him, but I stopped and inspected him. His cheekbones were more pronounced while his chestnut-colored eyes seemed empty. Then I noticed that his shirt seemed a size too large.

  He asked, “Something wrong?”

  “Have you been eating regularly?”

  Dad’s expression pinched, and then he swatted at the air. “I eat when I’m hungry.”

  I dropped my purse in the living room and laid my dress on top. “Dad, we discussed this. You have to take care of yourself.”

  Ever since Mom died, he’d been on a slippery slope. Some days he was good and didn’t have to be reminded of such mundane things like eating and bathing. Then there were the days when his PTSD and grief combined and it was like living with the walking dead. His memory slipped more than he’d ever admit.

  “Stop worrying about me, Rachel. I’m fine. I needed to lose a few pounds.”

  Sinking my hands into my hoodie pocket, I leaned against the wall. “What did the doctor say?”

  “Perfect bill of health. I’m taking my meds.” He averted his gaze and walked toward the hall. “I haven’t had a bad day this week.”

  Translation—he missed a day or two, and this week had been bad.

  I pushed off the wall and followed behind him. “Tell you what, Dad. Let’s skip mass this morning. I’ll make us a great breakfast and help you with the yard work.”

  He whirled around and narrowed his eyes. “What’s happened? Why are you really here?”

  A sudden sigh escaped my lips, and they curled up. “I have a date tonight, so I won’t be here for dinner.”

  Dad bobbed his head up and down. “Is he worth it?”

  “I hope so. It’s our first date.”

  “As long as you’re careful.” Dad turned and headed into his bedroom. A second later, he stuck his head around the door. “You start breakfast. I’ll change and start in the backyard.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Dad.”

  ∞∞∞

  I ended up spending most of the day with my father. After we finished the yard work, I cleaned up the house and did his laundry. I even talked him into going grocery shopping, and I prepped a week’s worth of meals for him. Realizing that he wasn’t taking care of himself made me think about moving back home. Honestly, it would only ease my conscience. Dad was the one who encouraged me to find my own place. He didn’t want me hanging around, fussing over him.

  Taking care of my father, however, was easier than trying to get ready for a date. I had no idea where Leo was taking me, so I played it safe and chose a casual burgundy wrap-dress and cream-colored heels. I was toying with whether or not to put my hair up when someone knocked.

  I checked my appearance one more time in the mirror beside the door before answering it.

  Leo smiled and then revealed a single rose—yellow tipped with red. I’d seen nothing like it. He extended his hand. “Watch the thorns.”

  Stepping to the side, I allowed him to come in. “Where did you find this rose?”

  “I have a friend who’s a florist.” Leo stepped close and placed his hand over mine. “Did you know that each color has a meaning?”

  Other than red symbolizing love? “No. What does this one mean?”

  He rubbed his thumb in a small circle over my flesh. “This one has two meanings. The first could represent friendship. It could also mean falling in love.” Leo paused for a beat or two. “The meaning behind a solitary rose is more important.”

  Butterflies took off in my stomach as a lump formed in my throat. “Wh-what’s that?”

  “Utmost devotion or gratitude. I’m saying thank you for your friendship.”

  Breathing became easier, and the tension slipped from my shoulders with those words.


  Leo leaned in and said near my ear, “Of course, there’s the promise of something more.”

  Beads of sweat trickled down my spine. Get a grip! I had allowed a few warnings and information from an internet search to shake my resolve. Pushing my shoulders back, I held my chin high and said, “What a lovely sentiment! I should put this in water and—”

  He took the single stem rose from me. “I’ll take care of it. Our apartments are similar. I’m sure I can find my way around the kitchen.”

  I said nothing. Instead, I stared at him blankly as I chewed the inside of my cheek. The voice of reason was screaming at me to do something—anything. My muscles froze, and all I could think of was why… Why would a similar apartment layout help him find a vase? Maybe he kept one in the kitchen and assumed that was where mine would be?

  “Rachel?”

  Leo’s voice snagged my attention, and I pushed aside my crazy, overactive imagination. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  “If you don’t have a vase, I could put it in a tall glass.”

  I blinked a few times, trying to clear my thoughts. “I think I have a vase underneath the sink.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I just need to grab my purse.”

  6

  An Interesting Night

  Rachel

  The trepidation I felt earlier easily disappeared. Despite his laid-back appearance, Leo was charming and every bit a gentleman. He apologized profusely for the choice of restaurant—the Iron Horse, a rustic joint offering pizza, Mexican food, and cocktails. Honestly, I didn’t care where we ate. This was supposed to be a chance to see if Leo was worth the effort.

  After placing our order—pizza and a pitcher of beer—Leo opened his mouth and then quickly slammed it shut.

  “You know, it will be difficult carrying on a conversation if you’re not going to speak,” I teased.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just wanted—”

  I placed my hand on his. “Stop. This is perfect. I love pizza, and the food here is good. Crystal and I come here often.”

  Leo quirked an eyebrow. “Crystal?”

  “My best friend. She was at the bar when we met.”

  His eyes widened, and he bobbed his head. “Yeah. Her. She didn’t like me much.”

  The server arrived with our drinks. She told us that our food would be out shortly and then went to another table.

  I took a sip of my beer before speaking. “Pay no attention to Crystal. She was just looking out for me. Until Crystal gets to know you, she’ll give you a hard time.”

  Leo’s face darkened for a moment. He lifted his glass and stared out the window.

  Blowing air through my cheeks, I hoped this man wouldn’t force me to choose between my best friend and him. That would be the ultimate deal breaker. Crystal was like my sister from another mother. She was my ride-or-die chick. We’d been through lots of shit together—she helped me cope with the loss of my mother—and coming between us wouldn’t be a smart move for any potential boyfriend. Case closed.

  Lowering his glass, Leo shot me a grin. “Okay. I can look past that.”

  “Good.” One bullet dodged. “So, what do you do for a living?”

  “Me? I’m kind of a jack of all trades. I’ve done a little of this…a little of that. Right now, I’m a musician.”

  Right now? Not exactly what I was looking for in a steady boyfriend or a husband. What happened if we got married and had kids? Would I have to take care of them and him?

  Keep an open mind.

  I forced a smile. “Is that your dream job?”

  “Sort of. As a kid I wanted to be a rock star. My parents were pretty lenient and gave me the chance to explore all my options. I’ve traveled around the world.”

  “Really?” Okay. Maybe he had a trust fund or something. There had to be deep pockets if Leo could travel. “Where have you been?”

  “Europe, Australia, even Japan.”

  “Your favorite place?”

  “Japan.”

  Our food arrived. Leo wasted no time helping himself to two slices. I waited patiently—was there anything wrong with a man having a healthy appetite? My mouth dropped when he passed me the plate.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Taking the offered dish, I set it down and placed a napkin in my lap. “No. I just assumed the food was for you.”

  Leo pursed his lips and put more slices on the remaining plate. “Humanity’s greatest flaw—making uneducated assumptions.”

  Interesting.

  “How so?” I asked and took a bite of the pepperoni, mushroom, and ham pizza.

  “Undoubtedly you’re used to serving yourself. The only time a man has ever served you was as a child. Once you grew up, you were on your own.” He bit into his slice.

  Dabbing at the grease from my mouth, I said, “A little judgmental, don’t you think? In case you didn’t know, the Victorian era is over. I don’t need a man to serve me.”

  A smile tugged at his shiny lips. He quickly blotted them with his napkin. “Nobody needs anyone to serve them, but we should appreciate the gesture.”

  Leo’s face said one thing while his voice spoke volumes. The way he delivered his explanation, though, made me a little ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to belittle your gesture.”

  He nodded curtly. “Thank you for realizing your error.”

  I flinched as if he’d slapped me. That bullet I narrowly dodged earlier was suddenly locked and loaded.

  Focusing on my food, I tried to redirect the conversation. I glanced up and noticed him eagerly staring at me. “You said you’re a musician. Do you have anything published?”

  The dark moment passed, and he lifted his chin. “Scores for a few B movies.”

  “That’s pretty cool.”

  “It’s okay. One day, maybe I’ll work with some real talent.” He reached for another slice. “What about you? What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m a copywriter for an advertising agency downtown.”

  Leo’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Downtown? Then, why are you living in Royal Oak?”

  “It’s too expensive downtown. I’d spend a good chunk of my salary on rent alone. It’s also too congested. When I get off work, I like the serenity of my little neck of the woods.”

  “Nonsense. You should live like a queen in a high-rise overlooking the waterfront,” he suggested.

  I shook my head and wrinkled my nose. “That’s not the life for me. I want to get married and have the house with the picket fence in the suburbs. Besides, my father still lives in Royal Oak. I like being nearby.”

  Leo dipped his chin. “A dutiful daughter. Admirable.”

  And that was how the rest of our evening went—polite conversation. Leo turned out to be an okay type of guy. He listened to my every word and didn’t try to force anything. Then he surprised me.

  “Seriously, Rachel, I’m not looking for a relationship,” he said out of the blue. “I just got out of a messy one.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Leo tossed his napkin on the table. “Don’t be. I tried hard, but her insane jealousy got in the way. Loving her wasn’t enough.”

  The man felt safe. Finally, someone I could just relax with and slowly get to know. No pressure. There was the slight issue of him wanting to do for me, but maybe I could look beyond it.

  “What we need is a no-pressure friendship. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company.”

  I believed him.

  Once we got past the awkwardness of my so-called error, I decided I’d had a nice first date.

  ∞∞∞

  By the time we got back to my apartment, I was a bit on the tipsy side from the beer and wine. Leo had insisted on stopping by the local liquor store and purchasing a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. That was my fault. I told Leo that I’d never had any type of brown liquor, and he was determined to introduce me to it.

  Leo unlocked my door, and I stumbled into the apartmen
t. Thankfully, I didn’t have to come home to darkness—I’d left the lamp on in the living room. I kicked off my shoes and plopped down on the sofa. With a hand over my eyes to shield the bright light, I slurred, “L-Leo, I don’t think I need anything else to drink.”

  Actually, I was certain of it. I had exceeded my limit. As it was, I’d probably have to take the next day off with a massive hangover.

  “Do you have shot glasses?” Leo walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. He promptly opened and closed cabinets, looking for the requested item. A few seconds later, he yelled, “Score!”

  He returned to the sofa carrying two small glasses—leftovers from my days of collecting souvenirs from my road trips with my parents. I giggled when I realized Leo wanted me to do shots of whiskey from juice glasses with Mickey and Minnie on them.

  “Hey, it’s not perfect, but it’ll do.” He passed me one. “Don’t sip. Just drink it down.”

  I glanced into the golden liquid. You only live once, right? I shrugged and tossed back the drink. It burned going down, but it had a nice flavor. As soon as I set my glass on the coffee table, Leo refilled it.

  “And so?” he asked as he gulped down his portion.

  “Not bad. It’s sweeter than I thought it would be.” The first glass was okay, but that second one threw me a little. The room spun, and I saw double. Although I was seated, I swayed slightly.

  “Rachel? You okay?”

  Suddenly, I felt a little sick to my stomach, but my legs wouldn’t work. “Leo… Something’s not right.”

  I heard his glass hit the table. Then, his hand touched my face, and he eased me onto my back. “Rachel, you’ve just had a little too much to drink. Do you want me to stay with you tonight? Make sure you’re okay?”

  My tongue swelled in my mouth. All I could do was nod.

  “Okay. Let’s get you into bed.”

  The last thing I saw was Leo undressing me. He placed me into bed and got in beside me.

  ∞∞∞

  Daylight was a cruel thing to someone suffering from a hangover. I pried my eyes open, nausea hit my gut, and bile burned my throat. I stumbled out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Minutes later, the door swung open and someone kneeled beside me.