Jaime laughs, giving my hand a squeeze at the same time.
“You dressing up?” he asks, wearing a rather surreptitious smirk.
“Some years I feel it, some I don’t. You?”
“Nah. I’m done with that. It’s Toby-this, Toby-that. It’s a lot more fun doing Halloween with the little guy.”
“I imagine.” I give Jaime’s hand a soft squeeze and walk more closely alongside him. He smells heavenly. “You love Toby to pieces, don’t you?”
“Hell yeah,” he says softly.
“Dumb question. Obviously your son’s your world.” I look over at Jaime, and we share a smile.
Then he stops mid-stride and gently pulls me nearer. When my toes touch his, he raises our interlocked hands and begins to coyly dance his fingers with mine.
Is this it? I think, my breathing quickening. This is the first kiss, isn’t it?
We’re under the starry, silent night. No one else is anywhere nearby on the pier. The spark is definitely there. We had a delightful dinner, and the walk along the waterfront has been magical.
“Emily,” Jaime’s voice breaks my ragged train of thought. “Toby is my world. I love him more than words could ever express.”
I nod slowly, my eyes locked with his. God, he smells so good. His blue eyes are even twinkling. Robin was so right when she compared Jaime to a Disney prince.
“But my heart is also open to love someone else,” he says timidly. He closes his eyes for what feels like an eternity. “Emily.” He opens them and says in a still voice, “I want you to know that I’m open to falling in love with a woman because I want to find true love. Not because I’m looking for a replacement mother for Toby.”
“I’m glad to hear.”
“I come with special cargo, obviously. I eventually do want a full-time mother for Toby. But I want a woman I fall in love with, a woman I love.”
“I hear you, Jaime,” I say calmly and easily.
Slowly Jaime untangles his fingers from mine, and I tuck my hand under the warmth of the blanket.
“Now that I’ve completely freaked you out and driven you off with my ode to finding love,” he says with a sheepish shrug. He rocks back on his heels.
“Not at all,” I reassure. I hug the blanket tighter around me, and that’s when Jaime places one hand around me, the other lifting my chin up ever so slightly.
“Emily,” he breathes tenderly against my lips.
“Jaime.”
“I want to kiss you right now.”
“What are you waiting for?” I give a sultry look, biting the corner of my bottom lip.
Jaime’s touch—his lips, his kiss—are so warm and tender. He pulls me tighter to him as our lips meet, as his tongue touches mine, as the kiss deepens and intensifies. I can feel my heart race, my throat tighten, my stomach become all swirly, my cheeks burn. God, it’s been too long!
I hungrily part my lips more, and Jaime brings both hands to the back of my head. I can feel his fingers tangle in my hair, his tongue moving in time with mine, his lips supple. I almost fall limp into his arms, but instead I bring myself up on tiptoes, wrapping my hands around his neck, the blanket now enveloping the two of us. I give in to the kiss, more deeply, more warmly, more hungrily.
“Emily,” his voice briefly breaks our kiss.
“Yes?” I moan, grazing my lips over his. The moistness and the heat of his breath makes me want to kiss him again, so I press my lips tightly to his, and he reciprocates. He presses me even tighter to his body.
“Emily.”
I slowly bring myself down from my tiptoes. “Yes?” I’m about to add, “My place. Your place. I don’t care. Now!” Instead, I swallow hard.
I’m glad I restrain my crazy urge to ravish him after only a second date, because he then says, “We should try to take things slowly.”
I’m about to go in for another kiss, but upon these words I sink back down onto flat feet.
“Because of my son,” he says hurriedly. “I don’t want things to get too serious too quickly, even having you meet Toby if things don’t end up panning out and…” His voice is running on, his eyes scanning all areas of my face. “Slow is good.” He cumbersomely runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Don’t take that the wrong way, please, Emily.”
“No, no,” I say, looking down at the ground.
“You understand though, don’t you?” His brow is slightly knit. “I don’t want Toby to get confused or anything.”
“No, I get it. Totally.”
I’m feeling red hot from embarrassment. I don’t know why, because it’s not like I rushed out that I want to hop into his bed or something (and I totally see myself right there, right now). The whole talk of his son and me meeting him and us getting more serious…it’s all a little uncomfortable, really, especially given the hot and steamy session we just had going on.
“I’m wildly drawn to you, Emily,” Jaime says. “I think you’re beautiful and interesting and intelligent, and I want to get to know you better. Slowly.”
I nod and force a smile. “You, too, Jaime,” I say, and I mean it.
So it’s a little unnerving having to consider a son and getting involved in something slightly more complicated in, oh, anything I’ve ever been in before. Jaime’s got to be worth it. Besides, they say it’s the men who are quick to bed you should be worried about, not those who say they want to take it slow so they can make sure it’s the real deal.
***
“Are you honestly going to that silly club tonight?” Jackie asks me. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows the smoke out the crack of the back door. She’s sitting on my dining room floor, only one skinny arm sticking out the door, and occasionally her head so she can take a quick puff.
“Jack,” I say, arranging my camera and lenses about the camera bag. “I told you. Once a month I have my book club meetings. It’s nothing new.”
She groans loudly, then busies herself with another puff.
“Where is that?” I mumble to myself. I scratch a tender spot on my scalp where one of the cornrow braids is pulling uncomfortably tight.
I got my braids done the other day on a whim. I went back to the NGO website to check out the application status for the Zambia volunteer program. The photos of the Zambian tribes on the site made me feel like going a little native again. I had my hair done up in little cornrow braids when I was in Ghana, simply as a way to bond with the girls in the village.
Zambia’s been on my mind rather heavily lately, mostly because things with Jaime are going so well. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with him. No, much too soon for anything like that. But we are hitting it off really well, having already gone out on our third and fourth dates. I can’t help but feel a tug of conflict when I think about taking things more serious with Jaime and about the African villages who could use my help. To travel, to stay, to travel, to stay. Oh, it’s so complicated!
The United Care Initiative website said the application for the spring Zambia trip should be available in December or January. There was a bold red notice to apply as soon as the application went up because there’d be a brief window of time when applications could be accepted. Competition would be tight, and if I was going to play the game, I’d need to apply, pronto. I’d have to make a final decision about possibly jetting off come next spring, Jaime or no Jaime.
But I’ve got time. For now I’m enjoying dating Jaime, and Zambia is still an option. I have another two or three months before I have to come to any decision, anyhow.
“Where is it?” I grumble, overturning the blanket, pillows, and random loose articles of clothing that Jackie’s managed to strew about my apartment during the short three nights she’s stayed here.
“Ciggies?” Jackie calls out, waving about my pack of tobacco. “Ran out of mine and rolled some of yours. Made you one if you like.” She holds up the small, hand-rolled cigarette.
“No,” I say, making a three-sixty around the room. “My book. My book for tonight
.”
The instant I finish my sentence I spot Jude the Obscure peeking out from underneath the couch.
“There it is!” I cry, grabbing the book. As I pull it free, a small sheaf of papers trails with it. I glance at the papers, my eyes falling on words like legal, assets, and attorney.
“Jack, you’ve really got—” I halt, letting the purport of the printed words sink in. I assume the papers are Jackie’s; her crap’s all over the place, and I don’t recall printing any legal papers.
“Yeah!” she says. She closes the back door and skips up to me. “What’s up?”
“What the hell is this?” I wrinkle my brow, my eyes taking in more frightening words like marital separation, division of property, and gross negligence. “Jack!” I shove the papers at her. “What the hell is this?”
“Oh, that.” She gives me a doe-eyed look, eyes round, face managing to go pale behind that orange, faux tan glow, mouth slightly open. “It’s nothing.” She reaches for the papers, but I won’t consent.
“What are these?” I angrily wave the papers at her. “Jackie! These are yours, aren’t they? And don’t lie.”
“Of course they’re mine,” she says severely. “You think anyone else is reading divorce papers in your apartment?”
“Jackie.” I can feel the blood drain from my face. “No. Say it’s not so.” I bring the sheaf of papers down to my side, and the corner of Jackie’s mouth turns down.
“It’s only homework,” she says timidly. “Educating myself.”
“You’re not—you’re not thinking of—”
“Divorcing Andrew?” She looks at me deadpan. “Like I said.” She reaches for the papers, and I let her have them without a fight. I’m too stunned to resist. “I’m only educating myself. I want to know my options.”
“Please don’t do anything rash.” I put a hand on her shoulder and give it a small squeeze. “Andrew loves you more than anything, Jackie. This would kill him.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I can see her blue eyes gloss lightly with tears. “I know. I said it’s only homework. You think I’d seriously divorce my paycheck?”
“Oh, Jack.” I dishearteningly shake my head and retrieve my book.
“I’m kidding,” she says dryly. “Ha, ha, joking.” She throws the papers onto the couch, and they flutter about into a mild mess. “I love Andrew, too, and I know in my heart I could never divorce him.”
“So why the papers?” I point at the couch.
“Because!” Jackie plops down onto the couch, the papers crinkling underneath her. “I’ve got nothing else to do, and I thought I could be all smart and all. Learn the legal rights I have in this marriage. And…” She picks at her manicure. “…if Andrew and I do have irreconcilable differences… I learned that phrase today, by the way,” she lifts her rear up and pulls out a random piece of wrinkled paper, “from this homework.” She waves the paper about. “If Andrew and I come into those habeas corpus, great writ of law troubles, or whatcha-call-it, I’ll be prepared.”
“I take it Andrew has no clue you’re doing this kind of research?” I limply slip my patchwork bag over my chest. “He hasn’t voiced any thoughts about your writ of law whatcha-call-its?” I give her an empty look.
“Well, no.” She props herself up onto an elbow. “But if he does, I’ll be prepared.” She waves the paper at me once more before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Like Sophie said, you can’t set yourself up for a catastrophe with a man. A girl’s gotta be prepared.”
I grab a handful of quarters from the large mason jar next to the TV and dump them into my bag, along with my book. “She was referring to moving in with a boyfriend, Jackie.” I fling open the front door. It makes a really loud squeak. “Not a husband.”
“Whatevs,” she says. “Let me know if you want to go out after your book club thingy and I’ll call the car round, get Andrew to get us a swanky limo or something.” She’s back to picking at her manicure, lying sideways on the futon, both bare feet propped at the top of it.
“See, if we’re going to be shallow with your marriage, whatever would you do without your town car on-call or your limo rides, Jackie?” I say with a false grin.
“Totally!” she gasps, spinning around onto her stomach. “Love ya! Mean it. Call me if you want to go out!”
I sigh and step outside. “Throw those papers away, honey. Better, burn them. And—” I’m about to close the door, it squeaking wretchedly loudly again, so I add, “if you want to do something constructive, you can oil this door’s hinge.”
She furrows her brow, looking aghast and overcome with confusion. “What the hell’s a hinge?”
“Just sit tight,” I say with a chortle. “Love ya, Jack. I’ll be home in a couple hours.”
Chapter Twenty
I managed to read all of Jude the Obscure, and I actually enjoyed it. Although I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it was tough to finish the last quarter or so what with Jaime on my mind so much. Even though now and then I feel a little uncertain about dating a man who has a son, I’m really happy I met Jaime, and that Operation Blind Date seems to have been worth the pain of rounds one and two.
Toby’s mother has him this weekend, so Jaime and I are going to make it a two-date deal. I can’t wait! I’ve already decided that for one date we’re going to a poetry reading over at this retro coffeehouse called Greenwich V up in the U District near my alma mater. I’ve never managed to visit, but have heard great things. It was my turn to plan the date, and I was kind of worried that Jaime would think my idea was “too hippy” or something (borrowing Sophie’s words). But he was enthusiastic about it. It kind of got me to thinking about asking him to join my book club. Sophie said to give it a few more dates, though. “Just in case it doesn’t work out. You wouldn’t want to taint your book club forever,” she said. So true.
“Jude the Obscure really resonated with me,” I say to Ben when the book club’s discussion of the novel winds down and people make their way to the refreshment table. “It was a good read.” I inattentively play with a dangly silver and jade earring.
“How so?” Ben asks. He hangs his reading glasses from the pocket of his blue and yellow plaid dress shirt. “Have you been manipulated into marrying someone?”
I roll my eyes and quit toying with my earring. “No, but the whole falling in love with my cousin thing…” I break into a wide smile, and Ben laughs.
“Touché, touché,” he says. He rests an ankle on his knee and slowly jiggles his foot. His pants pull up enough to reveal his blue argyle socks, and I can’t help but smile to myself. Ben’s like me—one of those guys who has his particular style and wears it comfortably, whether it conforms or not. He’s got that relaxed and free-spirited attitude, too. I can’t help but find myself attracted to it.
I timidly bite my bottom lip, trying to ignore the strong attraction I feel for Ben. I’m dating Jaime, and I’m really happy in that…erm…relationship? Is that what we have?
I pull my eyes from Ben’s socks and look down at my copy of Jude the Obscure that’s resting on my lap.
What are Jaime and I? I think, beginning to fan through the book’s pages, distrait.
Jaime and I haven’t talked about a “relationship,” come to think of it. Jaime and I are just dating, not committed or anything to one another. Fun and relaxed dating. I guess that implies we can see other people. Doesn’t it? That’s what dating is. That’s what separates it from a relationship.
My eyes meet Ben’s. He gives a half-grin, then removes his newsboy cap. As he runs his fingers through his wave of hazel hair, my stomach does a flip.
Yes, I really must clear that issue up with Jaime. Are we dating each other exclusively, or are we dating each other and others, too? I mean, there’s absolutely no harm whatsoever in dating two guys at the same time. I’ve done it plenty of times before. Besides, one guy might be a better match than the other. You need to be open to meeting all sorts of men if fate is going to work its magic.
I’
d never want to hurt Jaime, though, and it’s probably best, now that we’re seeing each other a lot, that we clear this little matter up soon.
Ben stops shaking his foot and mindlessly rubs at a small scuff on the white tip of his camel-colored wingtip shoes. His eyes meet mine again, and there’s that small smile returning.
Oh, what am I talking about? Ben’s got a girlfriend! I’m being ridiculous. I’m wasting contemplative brain cells even playing out the what-if scenarios. Enough’s enough. I’m dating Jaime, and that’s going really well. No point in wondering if I can dip my toes in the Ben waters.
And, hey, if Jaime doesn’t work out, Sophie and Claire still have to play their rounds in Operation Blind Date. Not to mention, there’s a sea of available men out there, and someday I know I’ll find my true love. I’ve got all the time in the world, really. What’s the rush, right?
“No,” I say to Ben, clearing my throat, finally getting back to our jesting conversation. “No, I can relate to Jude a bit because of his working in his aunt’s bakery.” I cross my legs and jiggle my own foot. “As a side job,” I add. “That was something that kind of connected me to Jude straight away. Silly…but I also really liked the controversy that Hardy creates in the novel. You know?” I clear my throat again, trying to focus my attention on the novel and not how charming that small mole below Ben’s right eye is.
“With the whole questioning of the sanctity of marriage, the church, religion, the conventions…” Ben says.
“Yeah,” I say in a spry voice. “It was a bold move, like Theroux and his honesty. I appreciate it.”
“Screw conventions, right?” he says with a smug look. “Be bold, be different.” He puts his cap back on. “Live your own life your way.”
“Yeah.” I nod slowly, suppressing a grin.
A while later, when only a few stragglers remain in the cozy, dimly lit library room, Ben looks down at his watch and pulls a surprised face. “It’s getting late,” he says, clapping his hands to his thighs. He gives me an expectant look.
When Girlfriends Take Chances Page 18
