Cut Short

by Julia Wolf

  I sighed. “You get me, James. Joe is the guy. You’d like him. Everyone likes him. He’s a teacher and a rock star. Isn’t that sweet? And he is sweet. Everything about him is wonderful. But I still sort of blame him for me rebounding into a horror show of a marriage. I don’t want to do that!”

  “Hmmm...” James rumbled.

  “That’s all ya got? Some bartender you are!” I drank water as I stared him down.

  “I don’t want to make you mad.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Now, this I have to hear. Why would I be mad at you?”

  James exhaled forcefully. “It seems to me you’re holding something against him that happened when you were basically kids. We all do stupid things—make rash decisions when we’re young. Look at you, you got married to the worst guy ever. What if Joe held that against you? If what you say is true—that he’s wonderful—then you have to let it go, plain and simple.”

  It was my turn to say, “Hmmm…”

  He chuckled. “That’s all ya got?”

  “I’m a little drunk, okay? I need processing time. But I believe you might be right.” I poked his tree trunk of a bicep. “I see why Frannie was crushing on you for so long. Oops, forget I said that.” I giggled and swiveled away from him, not noticing his reaction to my loose lips.

  I found my girls and we went back to their place to crash. As I drank a bottle of water to hopefully lessen the inevitable hangover, I texted Joe.

  Me: We had a good night. I miss you.

  Him: Miss you too. So much. I’m glad it was a good night, though.

  Me: Were you mad when you found out I got married?

  Him: I’m not sure I’d say mad. Can we talk about this in person?

  Me: I keep wondering what would have happened if you had sent me a different email.

  Him: I’ve tortured myself over that for years. What if?

  Me: That makes me sad.

  Him: Please don’t be.

  Me: I’m going to sleep now. I had too many blue drinks tonight. I’ll text when I get home.

  Him: Sweet dreams, Rachel.

  Me: Goodnight, Joe.

  Thirty-One

  I woke up less hungover than I’d expected, probably due to the water bartender James convinced me to start drinking instead of that fourth blue drink. The sounds of Laurel leaving for work and Frannie in the bathroom blow-drying her hair had pulled me out of a dream that involved kittens, cupcakes, and Joe. I didn’t remember exactly what it had been about, but when I woke up, I desperately wanted to go back to sleep so I could get back to the dream.

  I stumbled into the kitchen and vowed to kiss Laurel the next time I saw her. Before she left, she’d made a steaming pot of coffee and even set out a mug for me. Next to it was a bottle of painkillers. She was truly an angel on Earth.

  Frannie came into the kitchen all dressed for work while I stood by the counter in my nightgown, inhaling a chocolate chip muffin.

  I pointed to a brown bag on the counter. “Laurel must have run out and bought these at the crack of dawn.”

  She peered into the bag and selected a chocolate croissant. “She’s too good to me. I don’t know how I’ll function if she ever moves out.”

  I bumped her with my hip. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

  Frannie slowly chewed on a piece of flaky croissant. “Jealous you’re not working today. But overall, pretty good. I think you were a drink or two ahead of me last night.”

  “Oh! That reminds me. I had the most amazing talk with James last night.”

  Frannie sputtered and coughed. I patted her on the back and she took a gulp of water. “You mean Beardo talked to you?”

  “Frananas, his name is James! And yeah, he gave me some really insightful advice.”

  “He’s hardly spoken a word to me and I’ve had bad sex with him! I only know his name because I heard one of the other bartenders call him by it.” She looked at me with wide eyes.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He was really nice, and a good sounding board. He basically told me I need to grow up and get over it.”

  “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

  I shook my head slowly. “No, I don’t. He said it in a much nicer way, anyway.”

  “Well, huh. Who knew Beardo would turn out to be so wise?” Frannie threw the remnants of her croissant in the trash and dumped out her coffee. I watched her silently, not failing to notice how flustered she’d gotten.

  “I have to get going. Let yourself out when you’re ready. Text me later, okay?” I said I would, and she hugged me tight, then left for work.

  I lay back down on the couch and picked up my phone. There was a notification I had an email, and I gasped when I saw it was from Joe. My hands shook as I opened it, afraid of what I might read. The last email he had sent me started a chain of events I was just now recovering from.

  Dear, Sweet Rachel,

  If I had been truthful in the email I sent you fourteen years ago, it would have gone something like this:

  “When you’re in a room, a light surrounds you. That light is yours, and you carry it with you wherever you go. I don’t think you notice, but everyone you meet is drawn to your light, hoping a little bit of it shines on them. You are friendly and kind to people you meet, and you make everyone feel like they’re special to you. I think people fall a little in love with you each time they’re around you.

  Like everyone else, I’ve been falling in love with you since the day we met. I want to hear your thoughts on everything. I could listen to you speak forever. I want you. I had no idea you wanted me, and your email has blown me away. I am honored you feel that way about me. I am also kind of in disbelief.

  Now, I have to admit, I am a coward. What I feel for you is so big and so real, I don’t know what to do with it. You’re it for me, Rachel. There will be no one else after you. I’m not sure I’m ready for that at twenty. Can you say at seventeen you’re ready for forever with me? You probably could because you’re so sure of yourself and your place in the world.”

  Rachel, if I had said all that to you, what would you have thought? Would you have put your life on hold until I was ready for you? As a twenty-year-old kid, that was my deep-down, selfish hope, but I loved you enough not to ask that of you.

  You asked if I was mad when I found out you got married. The truth is, I was devastated. Which sounds ridiculous since we hadn’t spoken in years at that point, but I still had hope we’d find our way back to each other.

  I was waiting for you, Rachel. I hope you know that. This is our time, right now. I don’t want to waste any more time without you in my life. I want you to come back to me and we’ll fix whatever needs fixing together. You are still it for me. There won’t be anyone else after you.

  Love,

  Email Joe (one last time)

  Tears rolled down my cheeks onto my pillow as I read and reread his email. I imagined how I would have felt if I had been in Joe’s position, keeping watch from a distance, only to find out he’d gotten married. Thinking of him married to someone else made my stomach clench and my skin crawl. I was heartsick when I actually put myself in his place, envisioning how he must have grappled with trying to move on and not really being able.

  Would I have waited back then had he asked me to? Honestly, I most likely would have. And that wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. I would have become the girl who puts her life on hold for a guy, and he would have become a guy who asks a girl to put her life on hold for him. That decision would have fundamentally changed who we became, and I’m not sure we would have wound up together in the end.

  Now, it was my turn to take full ownership of the choices I made after Joe’s email. No one forced me to rush immediately into David’s arms. I could have sought comfort from my friends instead, because even though I had been young, I knew he wasn’t a good guy.

  Joe wasn’t to blame for my terrible marriage either. When I was angry at the world, David, and myself, it was easier to
take it all out on an abstract version of Joe than to point the finger back at myself. I let myself exist in a dysfunctional marriage and that was entirely my fault. I could have left sooner than I had, but really, I shouldn’t have gotten married at all.

  The feelings I had for Joe at seventeen were miniscule compared to what they were now. Joe had been smart and sweet then, but the years had made him a strong, compassionate man. I felt lucky to have this version of him. I was grateful he hadn’t asked me to wait for him.

  And I thought maybe, just maybe, he was lucky to have this version of me too.

  All of a sudden, I was frantic to get back to Tiber City—back to Joe. I showered last night’s bar smells off me as fast as I could, got dressed and threw my wet hair up in a messy bun. After stuffing my things into my bag, I flung myself out of the apartment and ran to my car.

  As I drove home, I tried to rehearse what I would say to Joe once I saw him. Nothing sounded right, or enough. The only thing I knew I wanted to say for sure was, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” and even that didn’t feel big enough to describe the intensity of my devotion and the unadulterated passion I felt for him.

  When I pulled up to his house—my dream house—I sat in my car for a minute, willing my pounding heart to slow down. I was nervous to see him. I wondered if I should have texted to tell him I was coming, to let him prepare. Then I realized in my frenzy I had left my phone at Frannie’s place.

  Gathering all my courage, every last scrap, I got out of the car and walked up the steps of the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, crossing my fingers that Joe would be happy to see me.

  Thirty-Two

  The door flung open, and there he was. My eyes welled up at the sight of him. He looked gorgeous, but the corners of his mouth pulled down and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

  I waved once. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop in,” I tried to joke.

  Joe exhaled loudly and pulled at his hair. “Rachel…” he breathed. He stepped back from the door and motioned for me to come in.

  We stood in the entryway, where just a couple weeks ago, we had been so overcome with desire, we ravaged each other the moment the door closed. Now, we watched each other, both unsure how to start.

  I reached out and threaded my fingers through his. He started to speak, but I told him to wait. I led him up the stairs into the master bathroom. I let go of his hand and stepped into the dry bathtub. When I sat down, I looked up at him, his brows knitted in confusion, and motioned for him to join me.

  He shrugged, as if to say, what the hell?, then climbed into the tub, his legs on either side of me.

  I rested my hands on his long calves. “Remember I said we should have all serious conversations in this bathtub?”

  He smiled, ever so slightly, and nodded.

  “I’m really sorry, Joe.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “What are you sorry for?”

  “I saw David before your show Saturday. It was awful, and I went home and cried for hours. By the time I saw you at La Cantina, I had spent the day reliving all the pain and frustration from my marriage. I should have texted you, but I didn’t want to bother—”

  Joe shook his head vehemently. “You can always text or call. How can you think you would have been bothering me?”

  I looked down at my hands on his legs. “I know that. I promise you, I do. But I was in my old headspace that night.”

  He leaned forward and put his hands on top of mine. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  My eyes drifted up to meet his concerned gaze. I scoffed lightly. “Just his presence sent me into a tailspin. But no, he didn’t really do anything. Although, I did have the pleasure of meeting his husband.”

  “God, I wish I had been with you.” His thumbs rubbed back and forth over my hand. Touching me the way he always did, though small, was enough to reassure me.

  “I know. And just knowing you feel that way makes me feel stronger.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “I read your email this morning. I read it a thousand times. I’m glad you didn’t ask me to wait.”

  He sighed. “I wish I had been ready for you. I regretted my original email the second I sent it back then.”

  “I don’t think I was ready for you either, Joe.” Scooting forward, I cradled his beautiful face in my hands. “I love you now, today. I love the way you care about your students, I love your compassion, I love that you like my friends, I love that you’re proud of my career, I love that you took a chance and uprooted your life to move here, I love that you’re close to your parents, I love that you play music with your nieces, and I love how you help me with little things without being asked and took care of me when I was sick. I love your sweetness, I love your voice, and I love how easy it is to be with you. I hate that I caused you pain, but I love you so very much, and I need you to know that.” When he didn’t say anything, I looked down, then moved to sit back, but Joe caught my hands.

  “I love you too, Rachel. You have no idea how much. I think I’ve been falling in love with you for fifteen years. I had this big plan of telling you I loved you after my concert, when I sang you your song. I should have told you a thousand times before that, but for some reason, I needed it to be perfect.” He sighed.

  Then he said, “I have to be honest, I knew you worked in the salon before I went there. I needed a haircut, so I looked the salon up online and there was your picture. I’m such a creep, I basically threw my phone down and ran to the salon. I was disappointed when you weren’t there, but then again, I had no game plan for if you had been. And then, when I saw you on the sidewalk that day, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding for years. I had to see you again, and once I spent time with you and confirmed what I knew—that you are amazing and wonderful and so very sweet—I knew I had to move mountains to be with you.”

  I wiped my eyes and smiled. “You’ve done far creepier things.” I sniffled, and Joe laughed. “And the house?”

  He studied my face and nodded. “Me buying this house was an amazing coincidence, or the universe finally pushing us together, I don’t know. There was some reason I felt so drawn to this specific town and this specific house. And Rachel, when you’re ready, I would be honored if you would live here with me. This is your house as much as it is mine. We’re going to grow old here, together.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and climbed into his lap, my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders, but not nearly close enough.

  “I’ve never been loved like this before,” I whispered.

  “I’ve never loved anyone this way before. Everything before was building up to this, and you and me, sweet girl, we’re the crescendo.”

  I held him even tighter, wanting to say a hundred different things, but none of them expressed the magnitude and depth of my feelings for him. I was overcome and overwhelmed by how ardently and intensely I loved him in that moment. And I knew—somehow, I was completely sure—the love I felt for him would only continue to grow. This was only the beginning.

  He held me tightly, stroking my back as we breathed together. I buried my face in his neck, taking in his pure Joe smell, committing it to memory.

  I leaned back to look at him, and a slow smile spread across his face. I grinned in response, then kissed the tip of his nose.

  “I told you this bathtub was the place for serious conversations.”

  He laughed. “When you said that, I envisioned nudity being involved, but this is okay too, I guess.”

  I giggled and bit his shoulder playfully. “Hey! This was the best bathtub talk we’ve had to date!”

  “First you bite my finger, now my shoulder? You’re dangerous, woman.”

  “And you love it.” I picked up his hand and brought it to my mouth. Gently, I nibbled on his pointer finger. Then I licked it, up and down. I kept my eyes on his as I slowly pulled his finger deeper in my mouth and sucked until he growled.

  Joe tugged on my hair, pulling i
t out of its messy bun, then he wrapped it around his hand and held me securely.

  “Everything you do is so damn sexy. On top of how much I love you, you’re also a fantasy come to life.”

  Our lips crashed together, kissing hard. His lips knew mine. They knew I liked when he sucked on my bottom lip. They knew just how firm to be. They knew I got wet when his tongue traced the edges of my mouth. Kissing Joe, and being kissed by Joe, felt like coming home and setting out on an exciting adventure at the same time.

  Our mouths separated so he could push my dress over my head, and then we collided back together. His hands skated up my sides and back down to squeeze my hips and pull me even closer. I rubbed myself against his hard length, already soaking wet for him.

  Joe’s mouth traveled down my neck and I leaned back to give him access to my breasts. He bent forward and sucked my nipple, pulling it to a sharp point with his lips. I threw my head back and groaned. His mouth was heaven. He moved back and forth between my breasts, licking and sucking until I thought I would lose my mind.

  I put my hands in his hair and pulled, bringing his head away from my chest. He growled. “I need you to be inside me right this second, Joe.”

  He kissed my neck and his hand pushed back the elastic band of my panties, sliding down between my folds. Without preamble, two fingers plunged inside. Moaning, I writhed as he drove his fingers in and out of me.

  I trembled against his chest. “Oh my god, that feels so good.”

  He bit my earlobe, and said into my ear, “Are you ready for me, Rachel?”

  “Always, Joe.”

  I went to work on his shorts, fumbling around until I finally got them unbuttoned. He slid his fingers out of me, and I squirmed at the absence. Joe lifted his hips as much as he could with me on top of him and pushed down his shorts, freeing himself.

  I couldn’t wait any longer, so I raised up on my knees, then pushed my panties to the side and sank down on him, slowly, slowly, watching his face as he filled me completely. We both stilled and groaned at the same time. My body vibrated at the feeling of completeness with Joe inside me.