The Soulmates Collection

by S. L. Scott

  Chapter Seven

  "Have you figured out when you’re having everyone over to the new place?" Heather asks. She loves planning parties even though I’d be fine not having one.

  I side-eye her, hoping she sees it my way. "Can we skip it? I really don’t need a toaster or any gifts for that matter."

  "No, absolutely not. Anyway, everyone brings wine. We’ll stock your wine rack and then I can hang out over there and we can drink it all."

  Resolved to the fact that my friend is insisting on torturing me, I exhale heavily while grabbing my coffee from the barista. "I thought as much, but I appreciate your honesty. I’ll think about hosting a party… just for you and your wine addiction." I laugh, glad to be back in the city with my friends.

  "On a different note, I’ve been meaning to tell you something," Heather says, her tone firm, but cautious as she walks behind me with her own coffee in hand. She heads for a set of chairs in the corner of the coffeehouse.

  "Okay, this sounds serious. Should I be concerned?" I sit back in the leather chair, bracing myself for the worst, even though I don’t know what the worst could be.

  "I've felt bad keeping you in the dark. I mean, you've been back in San Francisco for almost three months now—"

  "What is it?" I sit forward in my chair. She’s making me nervous.

  "It's about Chase—"

  "No!" I throw my hands in front of my body to stop her. "I don't want to hear about him."

  "But—"

  "Heather, it's not that I don't want to hear about him. It's that I can't hear about him. My heart can't take it. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with what we were and what we are now. I screwed up, and I have major regrets for using him like—"

  She leans forward, putting her hand on my knee. "Lydia, it took two. He knew what he was doing."

  "I should have stopped it. We'd be friends now if I had."

  "He was in love with you."

  And there it is—the reality of what my heart always knew, what he told me last December, but I wasn't ready to face. My work was more important than love, and now I'm paying the price for it.

  I gulp, flopping back in the chair. I take a sip of my coffee. "Mmm. I haven't had this flavor—"

  "Nice try, Ms. Distracter. Furthermore, you've been so far up your own ass to see what's right in front of you all of these years." She stands up, irritation rolling off of her. "Chase loves you… loved you, loves you. Whatever! For your information, he only had a few drinks that night. He wasn't drunk. He knew exactly what he was doing. So, as much as you feel empowered by taking responsibility for every fucked up decision, he was very aware of what he was doing that night. So, you," she says, pointing a finger at me accusingly, "need to accept that maybe, just maybe, he took advantage of the girl of his dreams after she pummeled four Long Island Iced Teas. He was with that blonde girl at the bar, not to get laid, but to get a reaction, and it worked like a charm. You finally let the walls down for one night and followed your heart."

  "Followed my vagina is more like it."

  "That's beside the point," Heather says, raising her voice and drawing some nearby patron’s attention. I look around, a little embarrassed, and give her my annoyed bitchy-face. "The world does not revolve around Lydia Nichols. Chase moved on, because you blew it. You blew it big time. You ran off to New York and hid for the last two and a half years. And, on top of that, you blew it for all of us. You let us all down, Lydia. You hurt that man. Chase was a caring friend who was always there for us, and you took him away from all of us. You broke him. He left us because of you."

  "Heather—"

  "I'm not finished," she says, walking behind the chair, putting distance between us. I sit there as she continues to tell me how messed up I am. "You need to make this right. Not for yourself but for us and, especially for Chase."

  "I can't."

  "You can, and you will."

  "I can't go barging in, disrupting the life he's built with… with her." As I say this, I feel a rush of pain fill my heart, like I have finally accepted that he's truly someone else's now.

  "You can," she says, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. She walks to the door a few feet away and turns to face me with the door open. "Lydia, he didn't get married." She takes a deep breath. "He's in court today. Don't waste another chance."

  My heart freezes in my chest, and my mouth drops open as I watch her leave. The bell above the door ringing remains the only indication that she just left me in a coffee shop with that bombshell of information. I sink into the chair, my whirring thoughts a mass of confusion.

  He didn't get married. Chase is not married. He didn't go through with it.

  With my emotions all over the place, my heart and mind narrow in on one monumental reality, and I bolt up from the chair.

  Chase is not married!

  A tidal wave of relief washes over me, and I suddenly feel the tightening in my chest release. I haven’t felt this invigorated or hopeful in years.

  I turn in a circle, not knowing quite what to do with myself. Do I go home? Do I go after Heather and find out more? Do I go see Chase?

  ‘Make this right.’ Heather's words echo in my head.

  The feeling from our one and only night together as more than friends overtakes all my other thoughts, reminding me of what I already knew to be true. This is right on so many levels that I can't stop the force of this if I wanted to.

  I run out of the coffee shop and down a block. Looking frantically around, I’m unsure of where to go. I need to make this right, to make us right again. How do I make this right? My anxiety gets the best of me and I curse out loud. “Double damn!” My outburst draws the attention of a guy walking by, and I start running not caring about the scene I just made.

  I’m dressed wrong for the distance I need to run —sneakers I'd chosen for looks over comfort, skinny jeans, and an old concert t-shirt that has a few well-earned holes. Okay, I look like shit, but it isn't about how I look. Right now, in this moment, it's about how I feel and not wasting the chance I’ve been given. I run three blocks up and six blocks over, stopping twice to squeeze the cramp knotting in my side. I'm sweating, and then it starts raining on me. Wearing down, I finally hail a cab and give the driver my destination.

  Traffic comes to a standstill near the Civic Center and my impatience kicks in. I pay the cabby, and he points me in the right direction. By the time I cover the last two blocks, I'm drenched. The tears I develop as my heart explodes in my chest are instantly washed away, along with my make-up, in the warmer than usual late summer rain.

  I take the courthouse stairs by two with no Plan A or Plan B in place. Winging this, I've just got to see him. My insides twist. I need to know if it's all true verified by the source himself. The doors swing open and a small crowd exits, all popping their umbrellas open at once. I squeeze between them, going against the stream. I hear complaints as I get a myriad of grey and black suits wet, but I don't care. There's no time for me to be concerned with anyone other than Chase right now.

  Why didn't he get married?

  Rushing down the marble corridor too fast, I hit a slick spot and slide across the cold stone and fall right on my ass. "Damn!" My swear word echoes through the great hall and silence befalls the busy courthouse lobby.

  "Lydia?"

  I'm on my knees when I hear the most perfect voice say my name and swivel toward the sound. When I spot him in the crowd, I smile. He’s more handsome than my memory recalled. He always is.

  "Lydia, are you all right?" Chase rushes over to me.

  "Why didn't you get married?" I plead from the floor below him, the words rushing out.

  He seems confused as he reaches down, taking me by the forearms and pulling me up to my feet. With a lowered voice, he asks, "Well, hello to you, too. What are you doing here?"

  Gripping his forearms clothed by the smooth grey fabric of his suit, my eyes meet his. "Chase." His name flees my lips more as a sigh than a calling. Looking down b
etween us, my insecurities begin to return. I shake my head once, closing my eyes to regain the composure I’ll need to be able to say what I came here to say. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be saying, but I decide to drop all pretenses and go with how I feel.

  "Are you visiting your family? What are you doing back in the city?" he asks.

  "Chase, two minutes," a stranger says, tapping him on the shoulder.

  I watch as Chase acknowledges him with a nod. "Okay," he replies. "Lydia? What's going on?"

  It doesn't escape me that he's still holding my arms firmly with concern. Always concerned. Always concerned because he loves me, loved me… fingers crossed, he still loves me.

  I let my heart express my feelings when I say, "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I just need to see you. Heather told me you didn't get married."

  I watch as he rolls his eyes, looking away from me. He turns back with a huff, and says, "They weren't supposed to tell you."

  "Why? Why weren't they supposed to tell me? Why didn't you go through with it? You told me to have a good life. You told me goodbye. Why did it matter if they told me?" I could feel the anger swelling in my chest—a different emotion busting forth than I originally expected. His nice suit being fisted as I grasp hold of him, wanting answers from him as much as he wants answers from me.

  Removing my hands from his clothes, he takes them in his, and whispers, "I need to go. My client's case is next on the docket." He takes a step back away from me.

  I take a step forward. "Please, just tell me."

  "Chase!" An older man commands his attention and waves him over. "It's time. We need to go in now."

  He looks back at me quickly. "I’m sorry. I have to go."

  "No!" There's a desperation to my tone, but I don’t care how I appear to everyone else. I’ve cared about that for too long. "I need to know." Tears flow from my eyes again for all to see, for him to see. "You have to tell me. Please."

  With the back of his fingers, he does a light stroke down my cheek. "I didn't love her enough. I don't think I ever did."

  "Why?" I ask, barely hearing the question myself.

  He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. With his lips still pressed against my skin, he says, "She didn't compare." He turns on his heel, and his absence hits my rain-soaked body making me shiver.

  He glances back right before entering the courtroom, leaving me standing there alone.

  She didn't compare. She. Didn't. Compare.

  Chapter Eight

  For twenty minutes, I’ve been waiting on the courthouse steps outside. It stopped raining and I’m soaked, so I sit down and start calling people. Heather answers and I explain the whole conversation I had with Chase in detail over the phone. "He said she didn't compare."

  "Lydia, this is huge! I mean major, epic huge!" She squeals, which makes me smile.

  "Don't get your hopes up, yet," I say, dragging my palm down my drenched jeans. "I need to go. You're making me all nervous. I don't want to over think this or over analyze it. Chase and I just need to talk."

  "I'm proud of you."

  That makes me smile. "I can feel your giddiness from here, and it's making me all giddy, and I don't think I have anything to be giddy about… yet, so I’m gonna go."

  I spend another thirty minutes sitting there, looking around, my knee anxiously bouncing. Finally, I see the older man and Chase walking out the large brass doors with another man and a woman in tow. I stand up, once again unsure what I should do. I hear the man say to Chase, "You've got company."

  Chase looks over, and a small smile crosses his face. He says something to the group and then jogs down the steps to me. "What are you still doing here?"

  "She didn't compare to whom?" I ask, quirking my head to the side. I can't afford to make assumptions at this point in our relationship, if we even have a relationship at this point.

  He smiles, and says, "You waited over an hour out here just to ask me that?"

  "You've waited longer." I throw the truth out there, finally acknowledging how much he liked me, loved me, whatever.

  "Touché, Miss Nichols." He bites the inside of his cheek, and narrows his eyes at me. Taking my hand in his, he starts walking down the steps. "Come over tonight. I'll make you dinner, and we can talk."

  I love the feel of his strong hand securely holding mine. "Okay."

  He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and pulls a business card from inside his jacket pocket along with a pen. After scribbling something on the back, he hands it to me. "Here's my address. I have a late meeting I can't get out of. Can you do eight?"

  I take the card, looking down at the address. For some reason, I’m surprised he doesn't live in the same apartment he used to. "You moved?"

  "The old place… It held too many memories."

  "It held memories with me."

  Walking backwards, away from me, he asks, "So tonight?"

  I nod. "Yes, tonight."

  "Bye, Lydia," he says with a mischievous smile.

  "Bye." Standing where he left me, I wave good-bye. After taking a deep breath, I release it and all the worry I was carrying with me. I have a feeling tonight I might get more than just answers and that makes me happy for the first time in forever.

  Five hours until I make it right or break us forever.

  The events from the last night we spent together are fuzzy, but I know I enjoyed myself before I woke up in his bed covered in regret. Sitting on the couch, I watch TV to take my mind off the nerves that feel like flickering circuits under my skin. With nothing entertaining on, I close my eyes.

  Chase always made me feel good about myself. That night he made me feel good in a whole new way…

  "I want you so much, Chase." I pull him up my body by the biceps and kiss him again, needing him in the most intimate way possible.

  "God, I've waited so long to hear you say that. I want you, Lydia."

  He pulls at my shirt until he gets it off then tosses it carelessly over his shoulder, not knowing how much that delicate silk shirt cost me. I’m not caring either as I start on the zipper of my skirt, and apparently doing a piss poor job. Grabbing a hold of my hips, he flips me onto my stomach and unzips the skirt. I lift my middle up into the air for him, and he slides the skirt over my ass and down my legs and drops it to the floor. His hands caress my bare ass then I feel his body pressing against me which causes us both to moan in pleasure.

  “You’re a very naughty boy, Mr. Andrews.”

  When he lifts up, he laughs, and I quickly turn over, shifting up the bed so our legs aren't hanging off the edge. Chase stands and slips his briefs down, revealing himself to me truly for the first time. He's not shy, and he's definitely not embarrassed. He's hard and smooth, and large, having every right to feel confident naked.

  "Lydia?"

  "Yeah," I answer, letting my gaze meander over the taut muscles of his abdomen.

  "I've never wanted a woman like I want you," he starts saying, crawling across the bed toward me. "I want to say this will be beautiful, and it will be, but it might not be long, and it might not be as gentle as I think you deserve."

  I gulp, never realizing how much I wanted him before until he said he’s going to have his way with me. I’m going to let him, too.

  He hovers over me. The tip of his erection is touching my stomach. He reaches for my silk thong on the sides and starts gliding it down over my hips. "I think you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen. I've never wanted anything more than to be inside of you right now…" He stops to catch his own breath, the moment taking it away from him.

  "I want that, too." And I do. I really do. His words are an aphrodisiac to my ego and body.

  My panties slide over my knees and his mouth goes to my stomach, making me gasp. My body reacts, my pelvis moving closer to the source of pleasure. "The smell of you wanting me is such a fucking turn-on."

  Damn, he's smelling me? “You can’t say things like that to me, Chase, and expect me to wait any longer.”
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  "Tell me how right we are together. Tell me, Lydia," he demands as his mouth moves lower and lower and still lower until his hot breath blows across my aching middle. His tongue comes out and rolls across the outside of where I want him to be. "Tell me I can have you, all of you."

  I gulp in agony, needing him so fucking much. I’m weak to him, to the alcohol, and to this moment of pure ecstasy. "I'm yours, Chase, all yours."

  His tongue plunges as his lips take me and suck. I jump at the intense sensation. His hands grab my hips, and he steadies me on the bed as his mouth works wonders on me. I'm moaning louder than I've ever moaned and yet don’t care at all. This is carnal pleasure in its truest form.

  I look up once just to see his face buried between my thighs. It's so insanely hot to watch. But when two fingers join in the fun down there, and enter me, I cry out.

  "I'm sorry, babe. Did I hurt you?" Chase stops and looks up at me.

  My hands go to his head and push him back down to finish the job. "No, no. Feels so good. Please. Don't stop."

  I feel him chuckle against my little bundle of nerves, the vibrations hitting the core of my being, and the swell of something wonderful starting to build deep down inside.

  "Feels so good!" I say, dropping my head back down flat on the mattress, and draping my forearm over my eyes. I block out everything except the feeling of his mouth on me. Holy cannoli, he's gonna do me in.

  "That's the plan, babe,” he says.

  Did I say that out loud?

  "Yes."

  My body blushes from the sensations and from my uncontrolled word spewage. But then it happens. The moon, the stars, and the sun align, and all is perfect in the universe as the tingling that started deep in the center of my body explodes in all directions, sending sparks flying over every inch of my body. I scream, fisting the covers in my hands to keep me grounded in the moment.

  I’m in complete bliss before I feel his hands prying my thighs, that are currently vice-gripping his head, apart. His eyes are lazy and sexy, yet he looks hungry… for me. I'm so fucking lucky. He slides up, dragging his hard length along my soaked center. He sucks on my collarbone then moves to my neck. Whispering, he says, "I need to get a condom."