Unfinished

by Shae Scott

  I was never going to make it.

  I shouldn’t have told him I was coming.

  I was weak.

  The plane landed and I took a deep breath to steel my nerves. I gave myself a little pep talk and marched off the plane. Fake it til you make it. I could do it. It was only three days. Two nights. Only two nights. I shook my head at the vision that instantly invaded my mind when I thought of nights with Owen. I would just stay in my hotel. We were having dinner tonight, and after that I could just feign client meetings and not see him. Surely I could manage a public outing. I wasn’t that pathetic.

  I went straight to see my clients and my day was filled with meetings. I spent the entire day in the offices of the new client, getting to know them, their business and their goals. I was so focused on my tasks that I didn’t give any thought to the upcoming evening. Work was my lifesaver. I knew what I was doing there. I had the right words, I had a plan of attack and I had a confidence that could convince my clients that my firm was the right choice for them.

  If only I could keep that confidence into the evening ahead.

  I stared at myself in the hotel mirror. I had changed my clothes four times already and there was a pile on the bed. I had nixed the dress because it seemed to scream Fuck me, Owen! Nixed the slacks cause they looked uptight and like I was trying too hard to be normal. I had rejected the skirt because it was cold and I wasn’t so sure I trusted myself completely. Currently, I was in jeans, a black sweater that hugged my shoulders, black boots and a gray scarf. It was casual, but still put together. I glanced at the clock and realized it would have to do; Owen would be here soon.

  Once again, I was starting to second guess myself. Maybe it had been a mistake to tell him I was even coming to Chicago. This was his turf. It made me feel uneasy. Not for the first time, I thought about canceling. It’s not that I didn’t want to see him. I longed to see him. The idea made me feel giddy. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t see him. We were friends. We had agreed. Things were too complicated for us to be anything more. He had a job that he cared about and goals that required him to make sacrifices. I was the sacrifice. I wish I could say that I understood that, but I was trying. I told myself over and over again that if that was what he felt, if that was what was important to him, then this was the right decision.

  We couldn’t work when he was so committed to his job that he wasn’t willing to walk away from a fake relationship. And if he wasn’t willing to walk away from a fake one, how was he supposed to have a real one? He couldn’t let go of those goals and he felt an obligation to his work and to Anna and I didn’t fit into that equation. The thought haunted me. I could deny it, but I still had feelings for him. I still thought about our time together late at night. His voice still sent electricity through me.

  I had agreed to friends. We had discussed it like rational people. Wrong time. Seven hours away. Commitments. Blah. Blah. Blah. I got it. I agreed to it. When he said that I should date other people, I actually thought I would try it. It was even starting to sound like a good idea. I wanted to keep him in my life. So we were friends. But it was a lot easier to be friends when you were so far apart. I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to be friends face to face.

  I should cancel.

  My phone buzzed on the dresser and I picked it up. Downstairs in the lobby. Want me to come up? I glanced over at the bed and cringed at the pile of discarded clothes.

  No. I’ll be right down. I took a deep breath and questioned again whether this dinner was a good idea. I didn’t feel ready for this. I wasn’t sure how to play it. Yeah, we were friends, but we had history now. I knew what it was like to be with him, and those images often found their way into my thoughts even though I tried to stop it. I hadn’t seen him in a long time and I was nervous.

  I took a deep breath, scolded myself for being weak and insecure and headed for the elevator. I was being ridiculous. If I wanted to continue this friendship it was time I got over it. Otherwise, I needed to walk away. It was time for tough love…on myself. Tonight would be a test of sorts and I refused to fail. But, damn, it felt like all of my progress over the past few months had been for nothing. Square one and I were fast friends once again.

  He was sitting in the lobby on one of the plush couches. I took a moment to admire him. He was so handsome. It made my heart thump erratically. I just wanted to take him in. He wore dark jeans and a deep blue button down. It clung to his chest and reminded me of the hard lines found beneath the fabric.

  He turned and caught me watching him. It was as if my gaze had alerted him to my presence. I watched his face light up as he stood. I hated that he looked so happy to see me. It made my heart beat faster and just added to the confusion. I was in a giant tug of war.

  We met halfway and he took me into a warm hug. I would never get over his hugs. I took in his smell and let it blanket me. My nerves started to fade and I began to relax. That’s the thing, when he was with me I felt at ease. Even the war in my head died down and I just enjoyed the feel of being in his arms.

  “It’s so good to see you.” I felt his breath against my neck and felt the shiver as it slid across my skin. He stepped back and held me at arms length, hands on my shoulders as he looked me over. I laughed. “I just want to get a good look at you. I’ve missed you,” he smiled.

  “Well here I am.” It came out almost shy. His admiring gaze made me a little uncomfortable.

  “I’m glad. I’m so excited to have you here in Chicago. You’re in my neck of the woods now,” he said, eyebrow lifted mischievously. I laughed and hooked my arm in his.

  “So where are you taking me?” I asked.

  “To dinner. I figure I should feed you. You get cranky when you don’t eat,” he said pointedly.

  “This is true. I don’t make good company when I’m grumpy,” I agreed.

  He gave me an easy smile as we walked out towards the busy Chicago streets. “You are always good company.”

  Owen drove and we talked about my first day in Chicago. He rattled on about how he wanted me to come back soon when there was no work to do. He wanted to show me around and he needed time to do it. I let him talk and thought about such a trip. Maybe if this trip went well I would think about coming back.

  I was so engrossed in our conversation that I didn’t even notice that Owen had pulled into a parking garage. “Where are we?” I asked as he pulled into a reserved spot.

  “My place,” he smiled. “I thought I’d cook. That way we can talk and catch up.” He got out of the car and came around to open my door. His place. Not what I had been expecting. The nerves threatened again and I wondered if we were ready to spend an evening alone together at his place. Then again, maybe to him it was just that easy. After all, he’d made his decision and he was known to stick with them.

  He helped me out of the car and kept my hand in his as we moved to the elevator. I felt the familiar electricity buzzing through me. His touch went straight through me. I was putting on a brave face, but I had a feeling I wasn’t really prepared for what I was being led into.

  The elevator only intensified my feelings of nervousness. The air seemed to get thicker as I could feel his gaze on me. I had to get a grip on myself. I glanced at him and gave him a smile. He seemed relaxed and happy. “You’re nervous,” he smirked, calling me out once again. I sighed and shook my head.

  “Yeah. So, what?” I sounded like a stubborn eight year old. He laughed as the doors opened to his floor. The sound of his laughter relaxed my tension a bit as I followed him to his door.

  The apartment was large. The ceilings were tall and the floor plan was open and elegant. I took a moment to look around and take in my surroundings. The color scheme was dark and rich, with dark grays and black. Everything was very modern, with clean lines that made me think of a spread in GQ magazine. At first look, it could easily appear to be cold and lifeless, but it didn’t feel that way. I could feel him here. It was a picture of the success that Owen had longed for as a boy. It was all
here, around us, in the lush furnishings, expensive fabric, and spectacular views. And there was definitely a spectacular view. The far wall was a row of windows looking out over the city. From here, I only saw the reflection of us. Me taking in the pieces of Owen around me, him, watching me from the side.

  I turned to look at him. He was studying me, trying to judge my reaction I assume. “It’s nice,” I smiled. “Very CEO.”

  He laughed. “Well, I’m not here a lot. I had a decorator come in and fix it up. But it’s alright,” he admitted, looking around as if trying to see it from my perspective.

  I went to take off my coat, and Owen stepped forward to help me. He hung up our coats in the small hall closet and then he took my hand and led me further into the room.

  “I have dinner started, but I need to see to a couple of things. Want some wine? You can keep me company.” He led me towards the kitchen, yet another wide open space with tall cabinets, granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. It was very masculine. I liked it though. It fit him, I thought. This was a far cry from the boy who had big dreams. He’d made them happen. I was proud of him.

  “Take a seat.” He waved his hand at the barstool that sat across from the counter that he’d made into his workspace. I watched as he opened up a bottle of chilled white wine and poured me a glass.

  “Why are you still nervous?” he asked as he slid the glass over to me. Our fingers touched as I reached for the glass.

  "Why do you always have to point it out?” I asked. He laughed and, once again, I felt more of the tension fall away.

  I sighed and rested my elbows in front of me as I found his gaze…to prove I was totally cool with the situation. “It’s just always weird seeing you again after so much time. I know it’s stupid. Even when I’m completely comfortable, you still make me a little nervous. You know this and you take advantage of it,” I accused him. He gave me a smile and then moved back to put the cork back into the bottle. He didn’t say anything as he took a sip of his wine, holding my gaze, almost as if to test me. I forced myself to keep my gaze locked on him.

  “You make me nervous, too, Kit Kat,” he said and with that he turned around and started messing with dinner. I couldn’t help but smile at his admission. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one feeling the mess of emotions. I just wished I could hide them as well as he did.

  I watched Owen as he moved around the kitchen. I loved watching him cook. It was sexy. “What are you making?” I asked.

  “It’s a pasta recipe from one of my favorite restaurants here. I know the owner and he was able to get it for me. It’s amazing. You like shrimp, right?” he asked. I watched as a look of panic flashed across his face. It made me laugh.

  “I do,” I assured him. “So, if the restaurant makes it, why didn’t we just go there? It could have saved you all of this trouble,” I pointed out.

  “I didn’t want to share you with anyone else,” he said simply. I was glad he wasn’t looking at me, because I felt the blush. Damn wine. Damn emotions. “So, tell me more about your meetings today,” he said. It was his way of getting me to talk about something normal so I would relax. I appreciated it. I appreciated it even more because I knew he legitimately cared about the answer. Owen always cared about what I had to say and that was refreshing. It was why I fought falling for him on a daily basis.

  I told him all about my day and found myself getting excited as I told him about my ideas. He jumped in and offered his own ideas and pretty soon I was grabbing my phone and typing them out in my notes so I wouldn’t forget them.

  “We make a good team,” he offered as I set the phone down.

  “We do.” I felt relaxed, finally.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “I am. It smells delicious,”

  “We can eat in the dining room, or here at the bar…your call,” he said, carrying over the giant bowl of pasta.

  “Let’s eat here. We don’t have to be formal,” I smiled.

  “Good,” he agreed.

  The dinner was excellent. “Oh my God, this is amazing. You can cook for me anytime. Who knew you had so many talents?” I was tempted to lick my bowl as to not miss one bit of the rich decadent sauce.

  “I’m glad that you liked it. It’s nice to have someone to cook for. I hate cooking by myself,” he said. He poured us each another glass of wine and motioned for me to follow him into the living room.

  Now that I was more relaxed I took a seat on the couch beside him. He smiled. Just as I settled in and set my wine glass on the table beside me he reached down and grabbed my foot.

  “What are you doing,” I laughed surprised.

  “Taking these boots off,” he said catching my eye and sending my mind spinning with memories. Note to self: No boots around Owen. He didn’t let me dwell. “You always take your shoes off as soon as you get home,” he offered taking off the second boot.

  “Yeah, at home. I usually manage to keep my shoes on when I am in public or a guest in someone’s house. I’m not that much of a hillbilly!” I laughed at him as he placed my boots to the side.

  He gave me a wink. “Exactly.”

  I looked away, trying not to make more of his words. Home.

  “Wanna watch a movie?”

  “Sure.” I took my glass back; it gave me something to do with my hands as I watched him settle in to the soft pillows and turn on the massive flat screen. He pulled up The Notebook and looked over at me with a cock of his eyebrow.

  I laughed. “We are not watching that.” I shook my head, remembering his adamant stance on all things Ryan Gosling and sappy movies.

  “I would if you wanted to,” he said seriously.

  “That’s sweet. But honestly, you don’t have to.”

  “I know. Maybe I want to see what all the fuss is about. You chics love this movie,” he shrugged and hit play. “Come over here. You are too far away.” He patted the cushion beside him.

  I hesitated. Closer was not part of my plan. I knew what would happen if I got closer to him. I would only want to get closer, and again, closer was not part of the plan.

  “Stop over-thinking and come here. I’ll keep my hands to myself. Probably,” he smirked, teasing me.

  “Fine.” I moved closer against my better judgment. If I was going to test myself I might as well go for extra credit. I sat next to him, holding a pillow in my lap as a security blanket. He tugged at me until my back leaned up against him. I tried to ignore the instant electricity that was dancing across my skin. I took a slow breath, steadying myself. It was just a movie.

  Yeah, it was just a movie…a movie about powerful love that overcomes every obstacle put in its path. I tried not to relate to it. I tried not to be resentful of love like that…the kind that was worth the hard decisions. I tried not to let my mind drift to the fact that the man beside me wasn’t willing to make those hard choices. He wasn’t building me a house. He wasn’t writing me a letter every day. Well, he kind of was doing that, but that was beside the point. He wasn’t fighting for me and that was the thing I had to hold on to. That was the key to getting out of this in one piece.

  The movie ended and Owen sighed. “Well. I can see why you like it. That’s some hardcore romance,” he admitted. I looked up at him in surprise.

  “You liked it?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It was good. I might have gotten a little catch in my throat there at the end.”

  “Aww, you do have a heart,” I teased.

  “Ha ha. Yeah, yeah, the robot has feelings,” he knocked his shoulder against mine.

  “I won’t tell,” I smiled up at him, but my smile fell once I saw the intensity in his eyes. It made me freeze. I knew that look. I knew what was behind it. I went to move away, but he stopped me. He pulled me towards him, and gently moved my hair behind my shoulders.

  It was silent as he held my gaze. The wine had me feeling warm. I held my breath as he touched my face. My eyes fluttered shut as his fingertips brushed my cheek and moved the hair fr
om my face. This moment felt dangerous.

  “Owen,” I warned. I needed him to stop touching me. I needed him. I had to leave.

  “Stay. Stay with me.”

  I opened my eyes to the deep gray of his.

  “I can’t stay. You know that.” My voice came out breathy. His touch always sent me into a puddle of mush. All the more reason for me to get off of this couch and go back to my hotel.

  “You can. Say yes.” He moved closer to me pinning me to the corner of the couch with his proximity alone. I think I stopped breathing. He held my gaze daring me to refuse him. His tongue came out and ran its way along his bottom lip. I wanted to kiss him. I missed the feel of his lips on mine. I missed the feel of him pressed against me. My body betrayed me as heat began to pool low in my belly and my insides began to long for him. Why did I have such a problem refusing him?

  I couldn’t say anything. I was just so focused on him; his eyes, his mouth, the scent that was enveloping me. It was making me drunker than the wine.

  “Stay.”

  “It’s not a good idea, Owen.” I tried to pull back from him, to put some space between us, but I was already as far as I could get.

  He moved closer and his lips grazed against my jaw. I got lost in it for a moment. It would be so easy. I wanted it. I wanted him. But he was the one who had told me that things were complicated. He was the one that said it wasn’t the right time for us to try something. He’s the one who pulled away. I couldn’t let him change his mind on a whim.

  I pushed him away and, surprisingly, he went easily. But the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t ready to give up. I made it to my feet and tried to clear my head a little.