by Alice Ward
“Look, Emily,” he finally announced. “I know that our timing could be better. But I also know how I feel. I want you. You’ve invaded my thoughts since that first night we met at the diner. I’m not an ‘ease into the shallow end’ type of man. I’m a ‘dive in, head first, all or nothing’ type of man. I’ve followed my instincts my entire life and they haven’t failed me yet. And my instincts tell me you’re the one for me. I want to take you out, spoil you, and shout from the rooftops that you’re my girl. If and when you’re ready for that, you know how to find me.”
He opened the front door and gestured for me to leave as if I’d even think about climbing behind the wheel of my car in nothing but his bathrobe. I put my hands on my hips and remained rooted in place, infuriated by his audacity.
“I’ll leave,” I assured him. “But not until I’ve had my say. Last night meant everything to me. And I feel the exact same way as you. Whatever this connection is between us, it’s strong. I understand that you’re not a patient guy and you’re probably used to getting your way. And if what I’ve read online is true, you’ve been too focused on football to ever have a real relationship.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand, giving him my best kindergarten ‘don’t you dare’ stare. It closed immediately and I went on. “I get that you may not understand how this works. But you don’t get to dictate how I feel and when I feel it. You have to let me get comfortable on my own. If and when you’re ready to do that, you know how to find me. You may as well shut that door and get back to your workout. I’ll see myself out after I change.”
I turned and stormed off to the bedroom without waiting for his reply. I hoped he’d be waiting to apologize when I returned to the living room. But all that greeted me was the still open door.
CHAPTER 4
“I still can’t believe you stormed out of his house and left him stranded,” Melissa said with an amused snort. “Serves the bastard right. I love football, but the players are all the same. And quarterbacks are the worst. They can be cocky motherfuckers, always thinking they should call the shots.”
“Ethan wasn’t particularly cocky… just demanding,” I corrected her. I dunked a tortilla chip into a bowl of salsa and bit it in half.
It was Saturday afternoon and Melissa and I were eating at our favorite hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant. We’d arrived just as the lunch rush had cleared out, leaving us as the only customers. I was grateful for the chance to vent to Melissa without being overheard.
“Speaking of cocky, how’s it been at school with Ben?” she asked, dropping her voice.
“I haven’t seen him. He’s sending his aides to my room to pick up the kids for PE. I was going to pack up his things and leave them outside the door. But I took one look at it and tossed it into the dumpster in my alley.”
“Did it make you feel better?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” I replied and dropped my face into my hands. “So much has happened these last few days, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel.”
“Whatever you’re feeling is what you’re supposed to feel, Emily. There are no right answers here. But I understand being filled with so many emotions they seem impossible to sort. Do you need to talk it out?”
Maria Lopez, the owner and chef of Lopez’s Cantina, arrived at our table, both arms covered in long oven mitts.
“Okay, girls, as usual, these plates are hot,” she warned, setting our food in front of us. “Would either of you like a refill?”
“Not yet, thanks though.” My Coke was still three-quarters full.
“I’m good,” Melissa added.
“Alright. I’ll give you girls time to talk. If you need anything, I’ll be behind the register.”
“Thanks, Maria,” I offered.
She nodded and walked back to the front of the restaurant.
“I do want to talk this out,” I told Melissa. “But first, I want to attack this burrito.”
“By all means,” she replied, covering her enchiladas with salsa.
We ate in silence until our plates were clean, then Maria brought us coffee and a plate of sopaipillas and told us to stay as long as we’d like.
“So who’s messing with your head more, Ben or Ethan?” Melissa pressed.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I think what’s surprised me most about the Ben situation is my reaction.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was crushed when I found Ben with Becky… but not initially. The first thing I felt was relief.”
“I think that says it all, Emily,” Melissa murmured.
“Believe me, the anger and hurt followed right behind it. But the relief never left. It hasn’t made any of this much easier. But it’s there. Obviously, you, Linda, and my uncle all saw through Ben better than I did.”
“So maybe listen to us next time,” she teased.
“I will,” I promised and drew an ‘x’ over my heart.
“Which brings us to Ethan…” she continued, trailing off with only a raised eyebrow to finish the question.
I nodded and took a sip of the coffee. “Yes… which brings us to Ethan. I can’t explain it, Mel. I feel the strongest connection to him. It’s like there’s some sort of magnet inside my chest, pulling me toward him. When I crawled into his bed that night, I’d convinced myself I was ready for whatever came after. I just wasn’t expecting him to want to make things so public and official so soon. I panicked a little.”
“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” she corrected me. “You told Ethan how you feel and what you need. He did the same, albeit he was more of an ass about it. One of you will have to compromise. And it can’t be you. It’ll set a precedent for your entire relationship and you’ll never win another battle again.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “Aren’t we a little old to play games?”
“Life is a game, Emily. I know being manipulative isn’t in your nature. And refusing to be the first to break isn’t always the most mature way to behave. But neither is insisting on all or nothing and attempting to throw a mostly naked woman out of your house. Trust me. I’ve been around men like Ethan my entire life. I understand how they think. And I also know you. If you let Ethan pressure you into something you’re not ready for, the relationship won’t last. You’re doing what’s in the best long-term interest for both of you. Ethan’s only thinking of what he wants at the moment.”
“So I need to stay strong.”
She nodded. “You did the absolute right thing.”
“Ethan’s stubborn. What if he refuses to give too?”
“Then it isn’t meant to be,” she replied with a sad smile. “I know that’s not what you want to hear. But it’s an outcome I think you should be ready for.”
“Are you still planning to go to the game on Monday?”
She nodded. “I have to. My boss is thrilled that I landed an exclusive with Portland’s new golden boy. But I promise not to enjoy one second of it.”
“Is it wrong that I still sort of want to go?”
“Not at all. But you’re not going. Watch the game at home, if you want. But the last thing you should do is show up at the stadium. That’s advice you should follow even if you and Ethan work things out… especially if you work things out.”
I didn’t follow. “Why is that?”
She rolled her eyes. “I will never understand how you spent a year with Ben without soaking up even a little Sports Center. Football girlfriends and wives are given way more credit than they deserve for their men’s performances. If you start going to games and Ethan does well, they’ll call you a good luck charm. But the moment he blows a game with you in the stands, they’ll call you a curse and you’ll become the most hated woman in the city.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I replied with a snort.
“I agree. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, if we work things out. Can I ask one more question?�
�
“Ask whatever you’d like,” she insisted.
“If, by some chance, Ethan does come around, do you think I’d be a terrible person for jumping into a new relationship so soon after leaving an old one?”
Melissa shook her head. “Keep in mind that my opinion is skewed. I love you and I want to see you happy. I also work at a news station and I’m bombarded every day with reminders that life is short. If you decide Ethan is who you want, then screw everyone else’s opinion. Ben is an asshole. I say you should celebrate being rid of him, not mourn it.”
She folded a honey dipped sopaipilla into her mouth and followed it with a long sip of coffee.
“Have you told your uncle about any of this?” she asked, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.
I shook my head. “He and Claudia left for Florida the morning after we all had dinner. They’re celebrating Walt’s retirement and I didn’t want to interrupt their vacation. But I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say.”
“Does anyone else know about Ethan?”
“Just Linda. I don’t want anyone else to know, Melissa. I can’t exactly explain what’s going on between us when I don’t understand it myself.”
“I understand, and my lips are sealed. I know you’re putting a lot of trust in me, given my job. I appreciate that, Em.”
My eyes widened. I’d never even considered that she’d turn on me. “I know you’d never sell me out for a story. And I promise if there ever is anything to tell, you have the exclusive.”
Melissa beamed back at me and attacked another sopaipilla. Despite my confusion and my anger at Ethan’s demanding behavior, I had a feeling Melissa would have her story sooner rather than later.
***
I spent the next three weeks conquering my urge to call Ethan. But just because I wasn’t speaking to him didn’t mean he wasn’t on my mind. The Stallions won their first three games; I watched anxiously from home, praying Ethan wouldn’t be hurt. He dominated the other teams’ defenses and quickly became the most talked about player in professional football. As he’d promised, sports reporters stopped questioning whether or not he deserved his high priced salary.
Ethan popped into my mind at the most surprising, inconvenient times and everyone at school knew I had something on my mind. Two weeks into mine and Ethan’s standoff, Ben and Becky went public with their relationship and I started getting sympathetic smiles and lots of space. I was more than happy to let them believe Ben was why I’d been so distracted.
My door opened and my students filed into the room with Linda at their heels. I put a wide smile on my face and rose to my feet.
“Was everyone good for Miss Howard?” I sang, meeting Linda’s eyes. We alternated lunch and recess duty and she’d just finished her turn.
“Everyone was great,” she assured me. “Our kindergarteners could teach the third-grade class a thing or two. You’d have thought someone had turned a group of wild monkeys loose in the cafeteria.”
“They were crazy, Miss Kinkaid,” Sophie Lewis told me, obviously in awe of the older kids’ antics.
“Birthday?” I asked Linda with a knowing frown.
She nodded. “Beatrice said a parent showed up with icing drenched cupcakes, topped with chunks of fudge. If you’re not busy after school, she would probably appreciate a trip to the juice bar.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed. ‘Juice bar’ was our code word for happy hour at the nearby pub.
A knock echoed through my room, followed by a collective gasp from all of the kids. I looked past Linda and saw Ethan standing in my doorway.
The kids’ initial gasps of shock were followed by squeals of delight and disbelief. Half of them swarmed him, tugging at his Stallions jersey and asking for autographs. The other half moved to the far wall and blushed with shyness.
Beatrice really lucked out with those sugar bombs. I’d take twenty kids on a sugar high over this any day.
“Okay class, let’s all sit down in our seats.”
I smiled at the kids as they settled behind their desks, then met Ethan’s eyes with my best ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ glare. He looked adorably bashful and glanced down to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think this through. I was hoping to talk to you for a minute.”
Linda pushed between us, ignoring Ethan completely. “I have to get back to my room. See you at Arnie’s?”
“I’ll be there,” I assured her.
I turned back to the class with a broad, forced smile. “Boys and girls, I know you’re all excited to meet Mr. McAlister. Unfortunately, he can’t stay to talk today.”
“Noooo!” several voices moaned in unison.
“It’s okay, kids,” Ethan assured them. “I’m here to talk to your teacher about an extra special surprise I want to plan for your school. Would it be alright if I talk to her in the hall for a few minutes?”
They answered him with silent, enthralled faces and a few celebrity-struck head nods.
“I’ll be right back kids,” I promised. “While I’m talking to Mr. McAlister, you can split into your reading groups. I want each group to choose a different chapter book. When I come back, we’ll vote as a class on what we’ll read next during story time.”
I led Ethan into the hallway and turned on him, my hands on my hips.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here? And how did you get by the front desk anyway?” I held up a hand when he started to speak. “You can’t just show up unannounced and disrupt my class. And I sure as hell hope you plan to follow through on that surprise you just promised them. They’re not going to forget about that,” I hissed, doing my best to keep my voice low.
“I know. I’m sorry. I needed to see you, Emily. I know we only spent one night together, but I can’t get you out of my head. I miss you like I’d miss a piece of my own body.”
Melt. That was so sweet.
“So you thought you’d just show up here and claim me?” I countered, keeping my mad on. “Or have you finally come to apologize?”
“I came to tell you that enough is enough. I know you have your reasons for wanting to take things slow… good, practical reasons. But I can’t take it anymore. I’ve never felt like this before. Until I met you, I thought emotions like this only existed in books. We have a chance to be genuinely, blissfully happy together. I’m certain of it. And I know you feel it too. So like I said, I came here to tell you that enough is enough. Can we please just give in to what we already know is right?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You have a lot of nerve. We had this conversation three weeks ago and I told you how I felt. Now you show up here and make the same demands? If you’d have compromised even an inch, this would have worked out much better for you. I need to get back to the kids. I’ll tell Principal Matthews he can expect to hear from you about that surprise.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he called after me. His voice echoed through the empty hallway and three of my colleagues stuck their heads out to see what was going on.
“Get out of here, Ethan,” I hissed.
“Sorry to disturb you all,” he continued, raising his voice. “As you may know, I’m Ethan McAlister. What you don’t know is that I’m in love with Emily Kinkaid.”
Oh my God. Please, just let me disappear into the floor.
I felt my face flush hot with rage while several of the other teachers let out amused laughs and calls of congratulations. I walked straight up to Ethan and poked his chest with two fingers.
“If we were meant to be the way you say we are, you wouldn’t have to force it. Now I believe I asked you to leave.”
He nodded at me, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. He stared at me another moment, then turned and slunk away.
***
“Bartender, my friend and I need another line of shots,” Melissa called out.
“Okay, but you’re cut off after this,” he warned. The redheaded bartender lined up six shot glasses o
n his rubber mat and filled them to the brim with tequila.
It was Sunday afternoon, and Melissa and I were at Butch’s Sports Bar watching the Stallions play. A week and a half had passed since I’d thrown Ethan out of the school, and my anger and frustration had grown with each day. Ethan had been so close to perfect. If he’d just been willing to compromise, we could have been well on our way to the happy, blissful life he’d described.
The bartender slid the drinks in front of us and the game came back from commercial.
“Just in time, Billy,” Melissa told him.
We were playing a new drinking game to celebrate my decision to hold my ground with Ethan. Every time someone on television called Ethan “Portland’s Most Eligible Bachelor,” we took a shot. We also drank when anyone mentioned any of the women he’d been casually tied to during his career, and every time the reporter from Melissa’s station appeared on the screen. Phillip appeared in the bottom right corner of the television screen and we salted our wrists. We were already on our second line of shots, and the tequila went down without a burn.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to be on the field tonight,” I told her, tossing aside my lemon rind.
She shrugged and let out a frustrated sigh. “It sucks, but what can I do? The moment the chicken pox threat was gone, I was booted back to the features section. My boss promised to start throwing me some of the lower profile sports assignments. I guess we’ll just wait and see if that happens.”
I gave her a sympathetic nod and turned my attention back to the game.
“Portland’s at first down on the thirty-five-yard line. Here’s the snap…”
“And the Denver defense has blitzed McAlister—”
I watched in horror as a trio of defensive linemen took Ethan to the ground. They piled on top of him and an official tossed up a flag. Ethan’s teammates dug through the pile of bodies, tossing the other players off of him. Melissa slipped her hand into mine as paramedics rushed the field.
“Officials have called unnecessary roughness. McAlister doesn’t seem to be responding.”
“Where the fuck were his blockers?” someone in the crowd called out.
