by Vonnie Davis
“Don’t forget. We can only be friends. I won’t text you every day. I’ll text you when I get home to Idaho.”
“If friendship is all you’re offering, I’ll take it. Just know I’m coming after you for more. Not now, but sometime in the future.”
Maybe now that he knew she was leaving New York, his ardor would cool and he’d aim his focus on someone else. Just how did she feel about his going after other women? It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Or so she told herself over and over on the short flight to Baltimore.
Now she was in Spokane, less than fifty miles from her little house—and a lifetime away from Webb. She sighed as she stood to retrieve her overhead baggage. Some things just weren’t meant to be.
She waited at the luggage carousel for her big suitcase and smiled at the memory of the grungy purse snatcher who’d started it all. Then her knight in shining muscles charged in to the rescue and her trip took a completely different turn. Her pink suitcase came into view and she grabbed it, eager to finish the final part of her trip home.
Once she pulled her little SUV into the garage, she glanced at the kitchen door and laughed. As usual, one orange paw and a gray and white one peeked out under the entryway. Her two cats howled a welcome. They’d missed her. She’d brought Diana, her next door neighbor and closest friend, a special gift from NYC to thank her for taking care of them while she was gone.
As she heaved her luggage from the back, she teased her fur babies. “Itty-Bitty and Cisco, where are you? Did you miss me?”
More meowing. A little more on the indignant side this time.
She unlocked the door, crouching for them to crawl onto her lap for nuzzles and pettings. “Yes, my babies, Momma’s home.” She stood with one in each arm. “This isn’t such a bad life we have, is it? You two and me living in our own space. No one tells us how to dress or which side of the bowl to drink our milk from. Who needs a man, when we’ve got each other? Right, Itty-Bitty and Cisco?”
She was partly unpacked when she decided it was time to let Webb know she was home. “I’m in my house, unpacking. My 2 cats are in my suitcase, making a nest. How’s life going for you?”
After she hit send, she glanced at the time. She was three hours behind him. He might be asleep. Oh well, he could read the text in the morning.
Her cell chimed and she jumped, nearly dropping the phone. “I’m glad you’re safe. So you’re a cat person. Send me a picture of them.”
She snapped a shot and sent it.
“Hey, they’re cute. What are their names? Rip and Tear?”
Gracie laughed. He had a way of tickling her sense of humor. “No. The orange female is Itty-Bitty and the gray male with a white mask and paws is Cisco.”
“Well don’t look now, but I think the bitty one’s been eating Cisco’s food. Hell, if Itty-Bitty ever wants to haul ass, she’d have to make two trips. What are you feeding her? You need to buy her a pair of running shoes.”
He had her giggling. Or maybe she was just tired. She flopped across the bed to text a reply. “Stop it! What are you doing?”
“In bed. Reading.”
“What?”
“My Dom for the Weekend.”
Oh, dear Lord, that was one of her books. Did he know? Of course he knew. Why else would he be reading it? “How did you find out my writing name?”
“I took your agent to breakfast. She just happened to mention it.”
“That comes under stalker behavior. Talk to your counselor about that. See if he doesn’t agree.” She powered off her phone for the night and headed for the shower. Webb Mohanty was like a bad rash. The more you scratched him, the worse he got.
She’d be better breaking off all ties with him. This idea of their being friends wasn’t going to work, because he’d inch his way back into her life. Why, she didn’t know. They lived so far apart. The distance between them was twenty-eight-hundred and three miles—not that she’d checked.
The next few days were spent in her office, going over scouting reports with her defense coach Matt Abrams and Noel Pergossi, offensive coach. There was a new approach to conditioning and diet that both Matt and Noel were gung-ho about. It made sense. “I’ll put you two in charge of it. That’ll free me for some of the record keeping changes NCAA enacted for this coming season. What a pain, guys.”
They smiled and nodded. Both obviously happy she was giving them free reign with their idea. She even offered to go on the diet, too, as an example for the team. It was time she stopped trying to micro-manage everything. The stress of keeping her nose in every part of the team’s functions took its toll, and by season’s end she was usually ill. A simple case of being rundown. She decided to dole out some of the responsibilities this year.
When she pulled in the driveway after work, a FedEx box was at her front door. Once her Murano was in the garage, she walked around to get it. The return address was NYC and it was addressed to Itty-Bitty and Cisco Luera. Webb. She didn’t even want to know how he found out her address.
She went inside and babied her cats for a little while. If anyone could relax her after a day of work, it was these two. Once they had her black t-shirt and jean shorts covered in cat hair, they began sniffing the box she’d brought in. Sniffing turned to scratching.
“What is it? A year’s supply of catnip?” She carried it out to the kitchen to open it. Both cats ran after her, meowing as if she’d stolen their last Big Mac. Using a knife, she cut open the tape. They jumped up onto the counter, their noses in the box. Each pawed at the tissue paper before finding two tiny teddy bears, obviously stuffed with catnip, and jumped down, growling and hissing over their new found toys.
Beneath the white thin paper was a package of pink feline sneakers with a note attached. “Have Itty-Biggie run for ten minutes a day.” Webb, you are a demented piece of work. Next she found a small furry baseball bat. Its note read: “Cisco, use this to keep the food thief’s nose out of your bowl.”
In the corner was an oblong box tied to a white envelope with a red ribbon. Her name was written on the envelope. She held it for a few minutes not knowing if she wanted to read what he’d written. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a soda. Her stomach rolled and she replaced it before reaching for an apple she kept in a bowl on the counter.
Curling up on her wide chair in the living room, she untied the ribbon and snapped open the jeweler’s box. Inside was a gold charm bracelet. Attached to the chain was a “W”, a filigree heart, a “G”, a man in a doghouse, a cellphone, and two cat charms. This man could be so thoughtful and so maddening.
She set the box on the stand next to the chair. Biting into the apple was like a moisture bomb exploding in her mouth. She wiped juice from her chin with the heel of her hand. A measure of courage in place, she reached for the envelope at the bottom of the box. With the apple clamped between her teeth, she wiped her hands on her shorts and opened the letter.
“Dear Gracie,
Dr. Paul is trying to get through my thick skull why I behaved so badly at the club the other week. He says I’m crowding you. So I’ll stop and back away.”
She glanced at the bracelet and the happy cats on a catnip buzz loving their tiny teddy bears. Yeah, she could see how he was backing away.
“The truth is I’ve never met anyone who I connected with the way I did you. I understand what you mean about it being too soon for such strong emotions. But, sweetheart, I can’t turn mine off.
“Here’s what I’m willing to do. I’ll agree to one call a week and a few texts a day. We’re both entering into the busy time of our schedules. I need to keep in touch, but I promise not to smother you. I know I have a lot of making up to do. When a man is hurt, he often lashes out by saying things he doesn’t mean. I did that with you and I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.
In my defense, I felt we’d progressed beyond being a one-night stand. I felt we were building something together. This puts me between a rock and a hard place. I want to gain your forgiveness by apologizi
ng, but I have to be true to myself. You’re special to me. I can’t give you up easily. Although I promise to move slowly, so you have the comfort and luxury of time. Just know I’m coming for you and you will be mine.
“I need one of your fantastic kisses so damn bad. — Webb
Gracie walked to the kitchen to lob the apple core into the trash can. She washed her hands while tears poured from her eyes. Damn him for reaching into her heart and wringing out emotion after emotion.
Now she knew how a rabbit felt, caught in a hunter’s crosshairs. She didn’t know whether to sit still and wait for the inevitable or run like hell. Of course she missed him. That didn’t mean she loved him. He was another bad boy who’d snagged her attention setting her up for a world of hurt.
She blew her nose with paper towels, opened her refrigerator and pulled out the bag of miniature chocolate bars she kept for emergencies.
ʼCause damn if this wasn’t one.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
This was Webb’s tenth day with Dr. Paul. His emotions were a wreck. The shrink had dug so deep into his past, he now knew his potty habits during kindergarten—or so it seemed. Memories of his tempestuous past with his father were dredged forth. The conversation Webb had on the phone that night with his mother, was a rough one. She dilly-dallied in telling him the truth, until he threatened to fly home and talk to her in person.
Her tears started and so did the apologies for not divorcing the man sooner. Dark dreams he’d been plagued with began to make sense. Slowly, the yelling, beating demon acquired the enraged face of his drunken father.
Dr. Paul didn’t stop probing there. No, he’d inquired into Webb’s service record, his time as a SEAL. Of every person he’d killed. Faces he’d rather forget. It was day after day of painful emotional exploration.
Then came their huge argument. The good doctor told Webb to drop all communication with Gracie. The educated asswipe had the audacity to claim that clinging to this woman was stunting his emotional healing. The two had nearly come to blows. Hell, his feelings for Gracie were too strong to just drop.
Webb didn’t know how much more he could take. He sat in the psychiatrist’s torture room, otherwise known as an office, and waited for Dr. Paul.
The side door opened, and the shrinkmiester strode in. “Sorry I’m late. I was conferring with a colleague about your case.” Dr. Paul sat and stared at Webb. “He agrees with me your connection to this woman, at this point of your therapy, is unhealthy.”
Bastard.
Dr. Paul folded his hands on the desk. “Did you talk to her last night? Explain things were over?”
“I texted her, as usual.” He leaned toward the shrink. “Get this through your head. When a man finds a woman he’s compatible with in a lot of ways, someone he thinks about all the time, a woman he respects and adores, he’ll fight to keep her. I refuse to call it quits. She’s been hurt by men before. I won’t have my name added to the list.”
“You’re jeopardizing your progress.”
“I came to you for help with my reckless behavior and any PTSD issues I was dealing with. Problems I’d been having long before I met her. So stay the hell out of my love life.”
Dr. Paul propped his entwined fingers under his chin, an air of superiority about him. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you fell in love in three days? That’s how long you two saw each other, right?” He smirked at Webb.
He worked at keeping his hands coiled around the arms of his chair and not around the counselor’s neck. “You’ve never met my Gracie. She’s so special, it could easily happen. Look, I’m not saying I’m ready to pop the question. Although the idea has occurred to me. She’s asked for time so we can build trust and work on a relationship, which sounds reasonable to me. I’m giving it to her.”
“Then give it to yourself, too. Tell her you need to work through some rough issues with me and you’ll be in touch with her as soon as you’re emotionally able.” He tilted his head. “I’m betting this amazing woman will understand.”
As dusk was starting to settle over New York Harbor, Webb called Gracie. This conversation had to be done in a phone call not an impersonal text.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” He stared off at the Statue of Liberty.
“Okay, I guess. How about you? You sound strange, hero.”
Hero, her pet name for him. Damn, he missed hearing it. He leaned forward on the wooden bench, his thighs spread. “I had another rough day with Dr. Paul. I don’t know how much more of him I can take.”
“Tell me.”
There was caring in her voice and hell he wanted wrapped in her arms more than anything. “I need to see you. I’ve got some tough things to say and it would help if I could see your reaction.”
“Webb? What the hell is happening?”
“Well, I’ve remembered my alcoholic father abused me. Needless to say, I’ll be watching my alcohol intake from now on. Since my pre-teen years I’ve had these dreams about a dark monster chasing me. Now I know it was my father.”
“Oh, hero, no.” One of her cats meowed and purred in the background.
“Dr. Paul says more intense work is ahead. He wants me to break off contact with you so my mood changes won’t affect our relationship. I just wanted you to know this will be the last you’ll be hearing from me for a while.” He took a deep breath and stared at the blades of grass between his sneakers. “I’m a wreck emotionally. I’d be no good to you.”
“Whatever you want, Webb.”
“Goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Take care. Be well.” She ended the call and just like that all the color went out of his world.
****
Her period was five days late.
It had to be her nerves. She hadn’t heard from Webb for two days and much as she hated to admit it, she missed his crazy texts. Her mind insisted his farewell was another bad boy tossing her to the side. Her heart, on the other hand, wanted to believe every word he’d said. He simply needed time to work through some heavy past issues. One side of her argued with the other and her emotions were all over the place. Sometimes she was so angry, she wanted to grab her cork screw and dig the balls off the entire male population. At other times, she wanted to cry with deep sadness.
“With my mind and heart at constant war, they could cause my period to be five days late. Right, Cisco?” Gracie petted him and he purred, sucking his soggy teddy bear.
“I mean I’m on the pill. I can’t be pregnant.” She reached for her phone and called Diana Carson, her next door neighbor and retired nurse practitioner.
“Hey, Gracie. What’s up?”
“Are you busy? Could you come over for some girl talk?”
“Sure, I’m on my way. Put the coffee pot on.”
Gracie had their Wild Women mugs on the dining room table when Diana rapped on the door and walked in. She stooped to greet the cats, while Gracie set out the sugar substitute and creamer. The pot finished brewing and she placed it on the table, too. “Oreos or Nutter Butters?”
“Oreos.” Diana sat and stared at Gracie. “What’s wrong? You look pale. Are you getting another sinus infection?”
Relief washed over her. She hadn’t thought of that possibility. “Could that be why my period’s five days late? I’m on the pill. My other sinus infection didn’t affect my cycle, but a relapse could be the cause. Right?”
Diana poured the coffee. “Pill or no pill, you can’t get pregnant unless you’ve been having sex.” Her hand stilled over the little bowl of sweetner packets. “Have you been having sex? With who? Oh hon, tell me. I could use some excitement on a drizzly Thursday.”
Gracie told her friend about the purse snatching and meeting Webb. Their having fantastic sex. She shared everything.
“Did you use a condom every time?”
“No, he’s a football player and tested often by the medical team. I knew I was okay. Besides, I’m on the pill.” Gracie stared at the tiny smile Diana sporte
d. “What?”
“What antibiotics were you on? I forget.”
Gracie told her and Diana sighed.
“I don’t like the sound of that sigh,” Gracie said.
“For some women, strong antibiotics like those reduce the effectiveness of birth control pills.”
Her stomach did a back flip. “No. No, now, that’s not funny. Don’t tease me like that.”
Diana squeezed Gracie’s hand. “How regular are you?”
“Very.”
“Have you been under stress?”
She blinked back tears and nodded. Pregnant? Oh, that could so not be true.
Fifteen minutes later, they both ran into the drugstore. Diana rushed to the aisle for home pregnancy tests and Gracie grabbed a couple boxes of tissues, a jug of orange juice, and two more packs of Oreos.
Webb had dropped her. She couldn’t be pregnant. Prickles of unease skimmed over her skin. How would she handle it if she was?
Diana, holding a box of tissues, stood outside Gracie’s bathroom door while she peed on two different sticks. She placed them on the vanity and pulled up her pants. “Come in and watch with me. I need someone to hold my hand.”
“Girlfriend, it’ll be alright no matter what. You can handle this.”
Would the college keep her on as a basketball coach if she had a live basketball under her clothes? She didn’t get paid as much as a man would in her position, but she’d paid cash for her modest ranch and vehicle and put some money in the bank. Her online teaching pay took care of her utilities and cat food. But the expenses of a baby? Her book royalties had better skyrocket.
Diana leaned over. “I see a plus sign.” She pointed to the other one. “I see one there, too.”
Gracie saw spots.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Four pregnancy tests, two crying jags, and one time on her knees paying homage to the great porcelain god and Gracie had to accept some hard facts. She was a few months shy of thirty, single, and pregnant. Granted she wasn’t the first woman this had happened to, it was just her first time.
