The Best Of LK Vol. 1

by LK Collins

  “Sure I did. If I didn’t, then you wouldn’t have a coffee. And that would be a shame.” He smiles, and I study his face, feeling like I’ve seen him before. There is something about him that is so familiar. I pop the top on my coffee adding cream and sugar, and the worker calls out, “Chai tea latte for Thane?” I glance over to see him take the drink into his hand. He winks at me, waiting for me to finish, and I place the lid back on my cup, looking away quickly. What are the odds that he’d order just what Ben would’ve?

  “Thanks again, Thane,” I say, having heard his name from the barista.

  “Of course. By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Faye.” We shake hands, and he holds my hand for longer than any stranger ever has or probably should.

  “That’s a beautiful name.” I smile, and he opens the door as we walk out together, neither saying anything else. But between us, there is a pull, a connection of sorts, and I have no clue why. It’s like Thane has awoken something inside of me that has been asleep for a long time now, and it scares me. I spend every waking moment grieving for Ben. I shouldn’t be feeling this way—it feels like a betrayal—but I can’t stop it.

  2

  Thane

  It’s been three days, and I still can’t shake Faye from my mind. I keep picturing her smile and how beautiful she was. For the first time in a long time, I felt a connection. There’s something about her that pulled me towards her, at how real and warm she was. It definitely has me wanting to know more about her.

  “Mrs. Leeper said we would find out what table we are sitting at tonight, Daddy,” my son, Jack, says to me.

  “Will it be for the whole year, buddy?”

  “I don’t know. But I really hope I get the red table.”

  “Yeah, why red?” I ask him as I pull into the parking lot of his school for back-to-school night.

  “‘Cause it’s the color of a fire truck, and when I grow up, I’mma be a fighter fire.”

  “It’s a firefighter, Jack.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  I put my SUV in park and open his rear door, helping his short little legs to the ground. “You sure you don’t want to be a pilot, like me?”

  “No way, too boring. Plus, I want a Dalmatian.”

  “I’ll get you a Dalmatian.”

  “No, you won’t, Mommy’s allergic.”

  I drop the subject, knowing he still struggles understanding that his mom and I are separated. As we walk into the school, Jack excitedly runs down the hallway. “Wait for me, buddy.”

  But I’m too late. He disappears into his classroom, and I follow in behind him. There are only a few parents here, and they all look my way, the usual stares that I’ve grown to ignore. I’m not sure why people always gawk at me. Maybe it’s because of my height, or my confidence, either way, it always happens. The teacher keeps talking to a couple of parents but waves. Then I spot Jack in his chair at the red table. I can tell it’s the red one because hanging down from the ceiling is a big red laminated square.

  Pulling a chair up to sit next to him, Jack is talking to another boy, and I recognize the other parent instantly. It’s Faye, the woman from the coffee shop. She is reading some papers that are on the kids’ table, and I have to give myself a moment to gather my thoughts.

  She’s even more beautiful than I remembered.

  Leaning over close to her ear, I whisper as I breathe her in, “Did you ever buy someone a cup of coffee?”

  She jumps a little, clearly startled, and looks at me wide-eyed like I pulled her out of a deep daydream. But fuck she smells good. All the blood rushes to my balls, and shyly she shakes her head. “It’s Faye, right?” I ask her, playing like she isn’t all I’ve thought about for the better part of the last three days.

  “Yeah.”

  “You know…you could always buy me that coffee?” I tease her, and she grabs her purse digging through it before she pulls out a five-dollar bill and tries to hand it to me. “Here, let me just pay you back.”

  Wow, that’s the last thing I expected her to do. Am I that appalling to her? “No way. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Please take it,” she says. There is a deep burden of pain etched within her eyes, that’s clear to me now. I didn’t notice it the other day. Something has happened to her, and it sends a spasm of guilt rocking through me. What could have been so terrible, to make her this way? Jesus, I shouldn’t have messed with her like that.

  “I’m not taking it, plus your coffee was only two bucks.”

  She’s still holding the five, and I push her hand back to her, noticing that her eyes have a hard time holding mine.

  The classroom has since filled in with other parents, and Faye reluctantly places her five dollars back into her purse.

  “Are you sure?” she asks, her voice so fucking sexy as she basically whispers.

  “Yes!”

  “Thank you all for coming tonight,” Mrs. Leeper says, and all of our attention is drawn to the front of the classroom. Checking my watch, it’s ten after the hour and Char is still not here. Of course, she’s late—the woman can’t make it to anything on time, ever. She was late to our own wedding and has been late to every meeting we’ve had regarding the divorce. I would bet my last dollar that she’s out shopping and lost track of time.

  As the teacher speaks, I watch Jack and his friend, goofing off together. The two remind me of how I was when I was a kid. I couldn’t concentrate to save my life, and it got me in a whole lot of trouble. But, ultimately, I turned out just fine.

  Then I glance at Faye, and as I’m taking in her beauty, the classroom door opens and in barrels Char. All eyes are on her as she interrupts the class, and she doesn’t say sorry or anything. “Mommy!” Jack exclaims and runs over to her.

  Faye looks at me a little confused and probably because she thinks I’m coming on to her as a married man, but it’s the complete opposite. Char and I have been separated for over a year now.

  Char looks down at the close distance between Faye and I, which I honestly didn’t notice until now, and she grabs a chair, glaring as she huffs, then rudely says, “Excuse me,” to Faye, causing her to scoot over so Char can sit between the two of us.

  “Seriously?” I scold her, like she has any fucking right. But Char sits there ignoring me, acting like Faye did something wrong. As I glare at her, agitated, she flips through the papers that are on Jack’s desk and then hands them to me. I just set them down, completely pissed that she is being such a fucking cunt.

  “Why are you late?” I whisper, pissed off, not able to control the anger she brings out of me. It pisses me off that she can’t seem to pull her shit together, even for Jack.

  But she doesn’t answer me, and I know now is not the time to get into things with her. Char can push my buttons better than anyone, and I know if I don’t keep in control, I’ll end up looking like the asshole. The teacher ends her talk, playing a short slide show letting us all know what we are in for this year. Which isn’t much—it’s first grade.

  “That concludes my presentation. Parents, please make sure you stop by the stations around the classroom to sign up for volunteering and to see how your child’s day will run. And please feel free to ask me any questions.”

  Char gets up and goes over to Jack, talking to him at eye level. There is a tag sticking out the back of Char’s jacket, and it makes sense why she was late. She was shopping, as I suspected, and in such a hurry to wear her new purchase that she couldn’t even remove the God damn tag.

  Faye and her son begin to make their way around the room. And I can’t help watching her, but Char ruins that too. “Isn’t that right, Thane?” she interrupts my fantasizing, and I get up, ignoring her. It really pisses me off that she just rolls in here late, acting like she has some claim over me. The fucking woman is exhausting. If I didn’t have my son with her, I’d leave the fucking country, that’s how much I hate her.

  Then without another word, she walks out, and I let out th
e deep breath of air I’ve been holding since she barged in here.

  “Come on, Daddy,” Jack says and drags me to where Faye is. Obviously, the two boys are friends and have a connection.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I tell Faye.

  “It’s all right. I didn’t know you’re married.”

  “I’m not. I’m most definitely not.” I make that very clear. “I mean, I am. But we’ve been separated for a year now, and the divorce is almost final.”

  “It’s okay; you don’t need to explain anything to me.”

  I run my hand through my hair feeling like a fucking shmuck and pick up the clipboard in front of me, filling out my name for some sort of volunteering.

  “Can Jack come over and have a play date, please?” Faye’s son begs her, and I look to see the two boys staring at her with pleading eyes.

  She looks at me for approval, and I nod. “Sure, Braxley,” she tells him.

  The boys immediately start to talk about what they want to do at the play date, and I write my number on a flyer from one of the tables. “Here, so you can call me for the play date and possibly a cup of coffee,” I try again. But she rolls her eyes taking my number from me. Our hands touch when the piece of paper passes between the two of us. The warmth of her skin has me immediately wanting more. “I’m not buying you coffee. That wasn’t part of the deal, remember?” she says, using my own words back on me.

  “Fair enough,” I tell her, and for a woman I barely know, I can’t wait for the play date, maybe even more so than the boys.

  3

  Faye

  “You look pretty, Mommy,” Braxley tells me, and I look at my reflection in the mirror. My lips are plump with a thin coat of gloss over them, and my exhausted eyes look deceivingly alive from all the makeup that I’ve applied.

  Then the doorbell rings and my heart thuds the way it used to when Ben was here, and suddenly, I question everything. What am I thinking, getting all dressed up for a play date? I’m a widow and grieving. I am in no shape to be—

  “Come on!” Braxley drags me by my arm to the front of the house, and I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.

  Then he lets go of me and looks out the glass on the side of the door and says, “It’s them, open it, Mommy, open it.”

  Proceeding onward, for my son, I let all of my worries go. I know how much this play date means to him. Plus, I’m sure Thane is just going to drop his son off and then go on his own way. But as I open the door, both of his hands are full of bags, one with what looks like food and the other with his son’s toys sticking out of the top. And I have a feeling he’s going to stay.

  “Hey guys.” I put on a fake smile and welcome them inside.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Thane says. “We were starving, so I brought lunch.”

  “Yeah, we can eat, right, Braxley?” But the boys are already off and in his room. I close the front door and remember to let all my worries go. I’m doing this for Braxley. “Here, let me take the food,” I tell him, and he hands me the bag, which I take into the kitchen. I glance over at Thane as he is looking around the inside of my home curiously.

  “Where are the boys?” he asks me still holding the bag of toys.

  “Oh, I’ll take it to them.”

  “It’s heavy; I’ll do it.”

  I direct him down the hall where the kids are playing on the floor in Braxley’s room, and he sets the bag down. “Do you guys need anything?” I ask them, keeping myself calm with Thane standing so close to me.

  “Nope.” I turn and about run into Thane who smiles as we walk out together, leaving the two kids alone.

  Back in the kitchen, my palms are sweaty, and I find myself a little nervous. He begins to take the food out of the bag, and I automatically open a bottle of wine to calm my nerves.

  “Do you want a glass?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, sure.” He chuckles, and I know it’s because it’s the middle of the afternoon and I’m drinking, but I need it. “I texted you about lunch, but since I didn’t hear back, I just ordered a bunch of different things. I hope that’s okay.”

  “You texted me?” I ask him and reach for my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, but it’s not there. “Sorry, I don’t have it on me.”

  “No biggie.”

  I grab a few plates and swallow a bountiful amount of wine as I spot the kids’ meals. “Are these for the boys?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll run these to them.”

  “‘Kay.”

  Walking down the hall with the two bags in my hand and a big smile on my face, I set them on the small table in Braxley’s room. “Here’s lunch, boys.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Heading back into the kitchen, my heart is still racing, and part of me wants to lock myself in my bedroom. I could lie and say I’m not feeling well, but I have a feeling that Thane would just come in, so I remind myself this is just a play date. Like any other one Braxley has had where I hang out with the mom, this time…it’s just with a dad. A gorgeous dad that makes me think and feel things that are so wrong.

  Thane glances over at me from the bar and says, “I’m sorry again about my ex the other night, she can be a lot to handle.”

  “She looked like she was gonna pounce on me,” I tell him remembering the skinny blonde with giant tits who made it very clear she didn’t like how close Thane and I were to each other.

  “Char is a very different woman now compared to when we first met. I really don’t get her or the things she does. Looking back, I’m not sure why I put up with it for as long as I did.”

  “Were you together for long?” I ask, intrigued that he would say that about his own wife, or soon-to-be ex.

  “No, not long before she got pregnant and that’s really what spurred the marriage and for us to stay together for as long as we did. What about you, why are you divorced?”

  “Oh…I’m not,” I tell him, not sure how to say this. He observes me, completely surprised, and I don’t want him to get the wrong impression, so I just say it. “I’m a widow. My husband, Ben, passed away a little over a year ago.”

  “Oh, wow, Faye, I’m so sorry to hear that. I had no idea. I just noticed you didn’t have a ring.”

  Reaching beneath my t-shirt, I pull out the long chain that holds both my and Ben’s wedding rings on it. I know he feels bad, but the word “sorry” does nothing. For some reason as humans, we feel obligated to say it. “Here are our rings. Ben asked me to not wear my ring after he was gone. He didn’t want me to stand still in time, but even without this ring on my finger, time still stands still, because he’s not here.”

  I blink a few times, pushing away the tears and find myself back to the night I lost him, the image so vivid in my mind, but Thane pulls me back to the present, placing his hand over top of mine on the countertop. “He sounds like a very brave man. I don’t think I could do that.”

  “He was.” I let out an exhale and tell him, “I’m sorry,” not even sure why I feel so comfortable sharing so much with him.

  “No, don’t be sorry, that’s the last thing you should be.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Of course. So should we eat and talk about butterflies or something?” he asks with a smile. I nod, chuckling as I imagine butterflies floating all around, then look at the huge spread of food laid out in front of us. “Do you like Mediterranean food?”

  “I do, I love it.”

  We dig in, each filling our plates, and he asks me, “So do you work?”

  “Yes, I’m an artist. I’ve taken some time off, but am trying to get back into the swing of things.”

  “What kind of art do you do?” He keeps looking over at me as he talks, making my heart race even more. Watching the way he licks his lips, I tell him, “Panting. Shit, I’m sorry, I meant painting,” I tell him, looking away.

  But he doesn’t seem fazed by my blunder. “Can you make money at that?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve been doing it for years now and h
ave a lot of galleries that sell my work.”

  “You have any here?”

  Finishing my glass of wine, the alcohol seems to make me more settled and more okay with things. “Mmhmm. I’ll show you when we’re finished eating.” I get off my chair and grab more wine, refilling our glasses.

  After we’re done eating, I ask him, “Ready?” and lead him into my studio. There are paintings all around on the walls, from floor to ceiling. There are some that are my favorites that I just can’t part with.

  “Wow!” Thane exclaims, taking everything in and then he stops in front of one of Ben sleeping.

  He swallows and crosses his arms, observing the piece. “Ben would never sit still long enough for me to paint him and then when we were waiting for the news of his test results, he was already so tired before we knew. And I feared it would come back positive—I think deep down we both knew he was sick. I prayed for it to be negative, but I couldn’t sleep or do anything except worry. I knew if he had cancer, our life would never be the same, even if he got through it, so I painted him sleeping, as a reminder of how he was in that moment. As the sun capped the morning sky, I finished the painting, and he woke to the phone call we’d been dreading.”

  “Jesus, Faye…I…I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t know why I’m even telling you all of this.” I clam up and feel completely stupid for spilling my feelings to him.

  “Don’t stop talking,” he encourages me, and I stare at the floor as I say to him, “One month after I painted this picture, Ben passed away.”