Free Gift With Purchase

by Jackie Pilossoph

  After dinner, as I stood at the kitchen sink doing dishes, Denny grabbed my waist from behind me and turned me around. He began kissing me and I kissed him back, trying to return to the place I’d been with him for the past couple weeks. I couldn’t, though. The same lips I’d been enjoying were now making me extremely uncomfortable, and I felt like the scum of the earth because poor Denny had no clue that this had nothing to do with him.

  I wanted so badly to be able to turn on a switch in my core to make myself continue to fall for Denny. But it was just not happening. Being in his arms felt unbelievably wrong. The bottom line was, I couldn’t stop thinking about Luke. It was as if he was standing here in the middle of my kitchen, telling me to send Denny out the door and go to him.

  “What’s wrong?” Denny asked me softly, “Please tell me.”

  I looked up at his kind face, tears instantly appearing in my eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “With me?” he asked softly, “Are you sick of me already?”

  “No! I promise, that’s not it.”

  “Then tell me. You can say anything and I’ll listen, and try to help you.”

  “I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.”

  He backed away. “Well then, what should we do? Should I go?”

  I looked at him sadly and said, “Maybe.”

  Denny left, and I felt both relief and panic at the same time. On one hand, I was experiencing unbelievable reprieve. I needed to gain a clear perspective on exactly how I felt, and that was impossible to do with Denny around. I needed to be alone. The flipside was, I had just let an amazing guy walk out my door. Would I regret it? I wasn’t sure, but the fact that I was taking that risk spoke volumes in and of itself.

  And maybe all this had nothing to do with Luke. Maybe I wasn’t ready for anybody, although the thought of running over to Luke’s house and into his arms was extremely appealing at this moment. I did no such thing, though. Instead, I finished cleaning up and headed upstairs.

  After tossing and turning in bed for about twenty minutes, I made a phone call completely on impulse.

  “Hi, Preston,” I said when he answered his cell.

  “Hi!” he exclaimed.

  “I got your text.”

  “I figured.” Now there was silence, neither of us knowing what to say next. Preston finally spoke again. “The thing is, the reason I texted you is, I’m not done yet.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, my voice rising to the point of anger, “You’re not done sleeping with me yet?”

  “It’s more than that. I miss you.”

  “Then why did you stay away for so long?”

  “Because that’s me. I was upset about what happened and I needed time to think.”

  “You hurt me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “Are you really mad at me?”

  “Yes, I’m really mad at you.” Lying under the covers in the dark, I realized I was only half-serious, and that our conversation was becoming lighthearted and fun. Hearing Preston’s voice made any issues I had with him fade rapidly. After all, he wasn’t evil. He was just being himself: closed off, non-committal and confrontation-fearing.

  “Being mad at me could be a good thing,” he said with a chuckle.

  “How so?”

  “Ever hear of hate sex?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Would you have hate sex with me?” he said with a laugh, “It would be fun.”

  And there it was. The bold man was still the bold man. Preston Christiansen, the same person who told me the first time I met him that he wanted to see me naked, now wanted me to take my animosity toward him, all my hostile feelings and dislike for the way he handled things, and channel it into physical pleasure. And sickeningly enough, the thought of doing that was somewhat exciting.

  How did he have such power over me? Preston had this strong ability to turn me into someone I didn’t know. I mean, I was thinking of jumping into bed with a guy I wanted to scream at for hurting me. I should have been appalled by his suggestion, yet it made more sense than anything, only because this was Preston. And nothing with this man or this relationship was ever normal. It never had been, not even from the start.

  “When can you get here?” I found myself asking.

  “Twenty minutes,” he answered, “See you then?”

  “Okay.” We hung up and then I froze. What had I just done?! Preston Christiansen, the man who with one look could melt me, was coming over to my house in twenty minutes for nothing more than sex. The man who went away so suddenly, and who caused my entire body to physically ache for months from withdrawal, would be here, in my house, and in my bed, minutes from now.

  I got up, went to my dresser drawer and pulled out the sexiest underwear I owned, a red lace push-up bra and matching thong undies. Then I put on a Michael Stars t-shirt and some old Lucky Brand jeans. And then it dawned on me. What was the point of worrying about a good outfit? My clothes were going to be off in the first sixty seconds the guy was in the door.

  The same logic applied to makeup. I put on a little face powder, a touch of blush, mascara and lip gloss. With a splash of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle, I was ready for date number two. Actually, it wasn’t even a date. It was sex, plain and simple. And that thought took my breath away and sickened me at the exact same time.

  In the few minutes before I knew Preston would be at my place, I sat at the kitchen table drinking a glass of leftover wine from my dinner with Denny, the man I’d planned on sleeping with tonight, but instead let go home. Denny was the man who offered the closest thing to a normal, healthy relationship. He was safe. He was kind. He loved me and I knew it. But I realized right then that if I had Luke on my brain the entire time he was here, and if I was letting Preston come over for dessert, I clearly did not feel the same way.

  I heard a light knock at the door. My heart pounded. I got up and answered the door, and when I saw him standing there with his beautiful dark skin, his olive brown eyes, his rock hard body and strong arms, I practically dove into him. I grabbed his face and began hungrily kissing him. Preston always had and could still bring out inhibition and sexual impulses I never knew existed within me.

  He kissed me back, making his way into the house. Then he picked me up and took me upstairs. My lips and my mouth and my tongue could not get enough of him, his familiar smell, his full lips, and his dark, soft hair. Why had I waited so long? I wondered. How could I have gone all this time, denying myself the pleasure that awakened me so intensely?

  “Tell me how much you hate me,” he whispered, as he put me down on the bed.

  “I hate you, Preston,” I whispered back, “I hate you so much!” I was giggling, but a part of me really did hate him. I hated him for cowering out of a hard situation. I hated him for staying away. I hated him for having such a perfect physique. Most of all, though, I hated him for making me lose control every time he so much as touched my skin.

  “Show me how much you hate me,” he said softly, leaning over me.

  I responded by pulling off his shirt and unzipping his jeans.

  “You don’t hate me,” he whispered, while looking right into my eyes.

  “I could never hate you,” I whispered.

  We kissed and kissed and now my clothes came off. And the hunger was ever present. I was ready to explode.

  “God, I missed you, Baby,” he whispered.

  When I heard the word baby, my heart sank. I froze. I felt disgusted. This was wrong. Preston on top of me was wrong. Preston in my bed was wrong. Preston in my house was wrong. Preston in my life was wrong!

  I pushed him off of me. “Stop!” I exclaimed, out of breath.

  “What is it?” he asked me.

  I got up and quickly put my shirt back on. “I can’t do this. I made a mistake asking you over here.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  I went to him and held his face. “I adore you,” I said sadly, “But what we had is over. It’s so o
ver.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded my head sadly. “I wish I didn’t feel this way. I wish we could go back to the days when everything with us seemed perfect. When things were untainted. We can’t, though.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, this attraction we have…I know you feel it too.”

  “Of course, I do. But it’s not enough for me. I want more.”

  Preston took a deep breath, as if he was thinking, and then asked, “How much more?”

  “I want you around, and we both know that’s never going to happen.”

  He didn’t say anything right away, I think because he knew I was right. He looked really sad, though. He stood up and then said, “I really care for you, as much as I’m capable of caring for anyone.”

  “I know,” I smiled.

  I walked him to the door. We hugged, made a fake pact to keep in touch, and said good-bye. It was strange. There had been so few words exchanged between us. He was here, and then we undressed each other, and then we got dressed. And that was it. I hadn’t even told him that his company might be buying mine! I would have liked to have shared that news with him, but I forgot. My mind was too focused on the hard body I so desperately wanted on mine, and then didn’t.

  The entire way up to bed (for the second time) I was smiling. What had just occurred was pretty funny. But I will say, once under my thick fluffy covers alone again, my grin disappeared. I was truly sad because as I did every night now, I’d have to fall asleep thinking about how much I wanted Luke next to me.

  .

  Chapter 33

  Patty’s Pizza and The Noodle Shop were the two restaurant choices I gave Isabelle for dinner the following night. I could have heated up leftover flank steak at home, but I had no desire to be reminded of the bizarre previous evening. Plus, Izzie doesn’t eat steak.

  “How about McDonald’s?” she asked cheerfully.

  “That wasn’t one of the choices.”

  “I have a great idea. Let’s go to Casa de Michael!”

  “Sure,” I smiled, “I wouldn’t mind tacos. Let’s do it.”

  Half an hour later, we were at the hostess stand in the Mexican restaurant, waiting to be seated. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around the empty bar, remembering the night I told off Dan, went off on Luke, and fortuitously met Alice.

  “Mommy, can I get lemonade?” Isabelle asked.

  “Sure.”

  We waited some more.

  “Can we get guacamole, Mommy?” she asked me.

  A voice I would know anywhere, and a voice that was so familiar I sometimes heard it in my sleep responded, “What do you think, Mommy? Guacamole?”

  I turned around. Standing there was Luke with his two boys, one of them deeply engrossed in a Nintendo DS.

  “Hi,” I said with a nervous smile. My heart was pounding. “Hi, guys!” I said to his kids.

  “This is Max and this is Andrew.” He tapped his son on the shoulder, “Hey,” he scolded, “Look up and say hello.”

  “Hi,” said Andrew. He immediately looked back down at his game and continued to play.

  Luke’s boys were little miniature versions of Luke, and as I studied their cute faces, I had this urge to hug the crap out of them for some bizarre, unknown reason.

  A moment later, Luke knelt down and said to my daughter, “What’s your name?”

  “Izzie,” she replied shyly, burying her face in my waist.

  “So, what are you doing here?” I asked Luke, feeling stupid, because wouldn’t his answer be “having dinner?”

  “Having tacos?” he replied with a smile.

  Just then, the hostess appeared and said to me, “Your table is ready.”

  I was just about to say good-bye to the Sullivan’s when Luke blurted out, “Emma, do you want to have dinner together?”

  “No, Mommy!” Izzie whispered loudly.

  I pretty much wanted to crawl into a hole at this point.

  “Isabelle!” I scolded, “That’s not nice.”

  “It’s okay,” Luke said to her, “I’m a really nice guy, actually. Who’s that on your shirt?”

  “iCarly,” she responded, guardedly.

  “Oh…I’ve seen that show.” Then he whispered, “My boys don’t like to admit it, but they really like iCarly.”

  “Dad, come on,” said Max.

  Andrew looked up from his DS. “Yeah, Dad, what are you doing to us?”

  “See?” Luke announced, “They’re really sensitive about it.”

  Izzie giggled.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked her, “Want to have dinner with us?”

  “Can I sit next to you, Mommy?”

  “Sure,” I smiled.

  “We’re just going to get one table for five,” Luke said to the hostess.

  “Okay, sure,” she smiled, “right this way.”

  Luke motioned to me to walk in front of him, and while I headed toward the table, Izzie followed closely behind me, holding my leg the entire time.

  The meal got off to an awkward start when Isabelle asked me where the mommy was. Ironically, I was kind of wondering the same question. Although, I figured since Luke was wooing me with lollipops, the writing was pretty much on the wall.

  Luke winked at me and then answered, “She’s having dinner with her friends tonight.”

  Andrew looked up. “My parents are getting divorced.”

  “I’m sorry,” I answered.

  “My daddy died,” Isabelle said to them, causing both boys to get these looks of shock on their faces that were so pronounced it was almost comical.

  “Finally, a conversation that won over DS,” said Luke.

  All I could do was burst out laughing, and from that moment on, everyone began to relax.

  While we ate, Izzie colored and listened, and Luke’s boys talked and joked about all the teachers in their school. Miss Stellenberger had just announced to the class that she was getting married and had showed them all her diamond ring, Mrs. Kastle’s last day was next week. She was having a baby. And Mr. Stone, the gym teacher was dating Miss Handleman, the music teacher, who in Max’s opinion was pretty but had bad breath.

  As for Mr. Sullivan and I, we had our own conversation going, and when I told him about Winchester, his whole face lit up, and it made me feel really good about myself.

  “That’s great!” he said, “Aren’t you psyched?”

  “Yeah,” I giggled, “But it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “It will,” he said with a big grin, “And you should feel really proud of yourself. Do you know the odds for something like that to happen? This is really something.” He looked right into my eyes and finished, “You’re amazing.”

  The fact that Luke was so impressed with me took my self-esteem to a new level, and I realized right then how much I valued and craved his respect. And now I knew I had it. At that moment I gave him a big grin, and all I wanted to do was run into his arms and kiss his lips. Hard. I literally wanted to attack the guy. Not just for sex, though. I wanted him! All of him. The whole package. And I knew he could see that in my eyes.

  Both of us realized, however that the kids, especially Isabelle, were aware of every word exchanged between us, regardless of how great the scoop was at Hoover Elementary School. And I was glad about that because I knew I was safe, and that there wouldn’t be any discussions about our relationship, or Denny, or Luke’s ex-wife, or the Tootsie Pop delivery.

  I did want Luke to know I got the lollipops, though, so I said softly, “By the way, thank you for the Tootsie Pops.”

  Isabelle’s head immediately shot up from the kid’s menu she was coloring. “Did you give us those?”

  “Yes,” Luke answered with a nervous chuckle.

  “Why?”

  At this moment I noticed that Max and Andrew were now staring at Luke, waiting for him to answer.

  Luke looked at me. I held my breath. Then he looked at Izzie and responded with a smile, “Just because.”

  All the
kids looked confused but satisfied with his response. I looked at Luke and he winked at me.

  Suddenly, everything felt so perfect. My daughter, his kids, me and him, all having dinner together. We weren’t a family, yet there was a certain comfort level that seemed natural and easy. Right then, I had the strangest thought. Very recently, I had been thinking about how I didn’t want to introduce Izzie to anyone I was dating unless he was significant. At that time, I had predicted Denny would be the first, and perhaps the only boyfriend she would ever meet. I had ignored my gut instinct that Luke would be the one.

  So tonight, sitting here having Mexican food with Luke and his kids, I realized that even though we weren’t a couple, not even dating, in fact, Luke had ultimately turned out to be the first man who meant something to me, and the first person I’d brought around my child, without even meaning to. This wasn’t the way I had planned them to meet, yet a twist of fate had brought us all together. The irony was unbelievable. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe Luke and I really had a chance.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked me quietly.

  I answered with a grin, and then I pulled out my Blackberry and texted him, “Let’s talk later. Can I call you after I put her to bed?”

  I heard Luke’s phone bling. Instantly he pulled it out of his pocket and read my text. Then he looked up at me and said, “Sure.” He looked happy at this moment.

  When the check came, Luke insisted on paying.

  “Thank you, Luke,” I said, “it was a nice night.”

  “Yes,” he smiled, “It was.”

  During the short car ride home, my daughter asked, “Mommy, who were those people?”

  “Um…friends.”

  “Where did you meet them?”

  I was sensing that my six year old daughter detected something going on between Luke and me. “Well, I met Max and Andrew’s dad a few months ago on the jogging path, and now we’re friends.”