Time and Space

by Rachel Robinson

  She looks mollified. “Of course. I mean, not with just anyone. With you.” I’m special. How sweet. My dick agrees. “Molly said you wanted company.” Now we’re going somewhere.

  “Did she? What type of company?” I keep my voice low, discreet.

  Rosy looks left and right then says, “A friend? Someone to hang out with? You’re lonely in the city. She said you would probably be dirty and depressed from sitting in front of the computer for days on end.” Truth. The former Cody Ridge would never fuck a woman after the first date. Probably not even after the second. But then again, the former Cody Ridge was always in love with one woman. He still is. It doesn’t mean the newer, dirtier, and jaded Cody Ridge can’t come out to play for the night. Rosy might even go all fan girl when I pull out my cock. How could I resist that? “So, do you want a friend?” she asks shyly. I do.

  Instead of replying I throw my arm out to get the waitress’ attention and ask for the check. Rosy hasn’t finished her meal, but you should see this chick’s eyes light up when she realizes we’re leaving together. Can’t blame a woman for knowing what she wants. I pay the bill, stand up, and hold out my hand to Rosy. She smiles shyly and takes it without hesitation. “To my place, then? It’s right around the corner,” I explain.

  She giggles. “Yes! This is going to be so much fun.” Oh, baby, more fun than you know. No limp dicked college boys for her tonight.

  My mind starts racing when I think about what I’m about to do. You’re moving on. She has, cock says. I can’t argue with that logic, but I also have to admit that it feels dirty and underhanded. I’m leading Rosy to the door when in walks the reason for all my hesitation. Because of course karma, fate, and every other bullshit lie has to crash my pussy party.

  Lainey walks in with another woman. She has her laptop and a folder tucked under her arm. She’s here on a business meeting. The odds of this fucking happenstance are so ridiculous that I have to laugh. Of course she looks stunning. Blonde hair wrapped up into a bun on top of her head, lips perfect, tits at attention, eyes locked on me and my scruffy face, and unwashed clothing. Then her gaze shifts to Rosy. Ouch. I see the pain flicker across her face. It can’t be an ounce of what I feel when I think of her and Dax. She’s marrying the guy, for Christ’s sake. I can’t feel bad for Molly’s forethought. No, in fact, I feel good about this.

  I swallow down the searing pain and greet her. “Hey,” I say.

  Her pretty blue eyes turn down in the corner. “Mr. Ridge,” she replies.

  I smile. “Oh, it’s like that, I see.” She nods, introduces me to her client, and then directs her to a nearby table. Rosy excuses herself to the ladies’ room because I’m sure she senses duress—young, but perhaps not as naïve as I thought.

  “I can’t talk, Cody. I’m here for business.”

  “At my house. You’re at my house. On business.” I miss seeing her. My chest literally aches with longing at the mere sight of her. Will this pain ever go away?

  She opens her arms wide. “This café is not your house. It happens to have great salads. I guess you should have mentioned that you got this restaurant in the custody agreement. Oh, that’s right, you haven’t made any sort of contact for a month. You broke up with me, remember?” Her words ooze with hurt. Clearly she’s still upset with me.

  I clear my throat. “Didn’t want to infringe. I know you’re planning a wedding.” I glance down at her engagement ring. It sparkles in the low lights. “I’m glad you’re happy, Fast Lane.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare Fast Lane me. Never again. You don’t get to call me anything except the past and possibly the best fuck of your life. That’s it. You’re an asshole, Cody Ridge, and I vow to make you pay for what you did to me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to believe it’s better this way. Right?” I implore her to lie. I’ll call her out right here and now. It’s unreal that she thinks I meant the things I said. Molly helped me with a tube of her lipstick and a bottle of perfume she had in her purse. She coached me on what to say and then waited in the car for me while I broke up with Lainey. I gave her a bonus check for all her trouble. She did have to put me to bed after that bottle of whisky. I’m also pretty sure I was crying. No one should bear witness to that.

  Her blue eyes, rimmed with a soft black makeup, begin to water. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, Cody. I do know you’re wasting my time.” She brushes past me, causing my skin to burn where her arm touches mine. Electric goosebumps, a touch that is so, so right.

  “Lainey, wait,” I say. My command is louder than it should be. She only turns her head, not her body. A half committal to whatever I have to say. Her gaze meets mine and for a second I think she understands—she sees how much love I still have for her. It burns like a fucking Olympic torch that will never die. See it. Please see it. Rosy and impeccable timing ruin the moment. She bounces up next to me and locks her slim arm around mine. Lainey swallows hard, closes her eyes, and heads to the table where her client waits. I leave with Rosy chattering aloud about everything and nothing. I glance over my shoulder, looking through the windows of the restaurant. Lainey doesn’t look my way again. She talks to the woman, but the corners of her eyes are turned down and her smile is false. Broken hearts never truly heal, they mend, beat a little differently, forever after. Lainey and I are the greatest love that ever died.

  Fucking Rosy isn’t going to help me forget. Not for one second.

  It sure is going to be fun trying, cock says.

  ****

  I’ve tried calling Molly four times this morning. Granted it’s before six a.m. and she isn’t required to answer her cell before seven, but I want to talk to her. I think it’s talk that I want to do. Half of me is angry because of her underhanded date set-up, but the other half is pretty fucking happy with her for it. Rosy left my place late last night. Mostly we talked, and when she tried to initiate more I wasn’t game. Because what hot-blooded male turns down sex with a young, intelligent woman who is asking for it? Someone as fucked up as I am, that’s who. Her company was nice, and she even pretended to be interested in my coding expeditions. She smiled and asked questions when I told her, in laymen terms, what I was working on. Dare I say her company was a welcome surprise. She got embarrassed when I politely declined a blowjob, assuming she picked up wrong cues throughout the night. I reassured her that the cues were all there, but I was tired and wanted an intimate encounter with a woman such as herself to be perfect. It was a load of horseshit.

  I can’t stop thinking about how upset Lainey looked last night. She’s getting married. She’s supposed to be this glowing, happy, radiant bride. Seeing me put her off in a bad way. Did I condemn her to a life of unhappiness with Dax? Surely she knows she has a choice to say ‘fuck you, Dax, I’m marrying no one.’

  Rosy gave me her phone number and we made plans to meet at the bookstore this weekend. We’ll see if she cancels before then. I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, that’s for sure.

  I wander from my bedroom to the kitchen. Pouring orange juice straight into my mouth from the container without my lips touching and without spilling a drop is a skill I’ve perfected over time. I finish off the bottle, order a take-out breakfast, and turn on my computers for the daily grind. I have a meeting with the guys at eleven and a day full of staring at computer monitors again. I click open my email to see if anything has changed overnight. Several emails catch my eye, but one, always the one, starred as V.I.P. gets opened first. It’s of the most unexpected sort.

  From: LaineyRostov@Memail.com

  To: Cridge@ridgecontract.com

  Subject: Intimate encounters

  I debated for a full six hours whether I should give you another second of my life with this email, but in the end I figured I better. Because assholes stretched as wide as you tend to stink and need to hear the truth sometimes.

  1.) I would like custody of the café by your house. I don’t care if it’s by your house. It’s by my favo
rite fabric store, so I’m there frequently. Good lettuce is hard to find in NYC.

  2.) This one is more of a PSA because I feel the need to get it off my chest. The next time you decide to break up with a woman you should do it sober, with clean clothing and maybe drop a few fucking hints before. Definitely don’t send confusing emails days before you break her heart.

  3.) The real reason I’m emailing after a month of no contact is because Dax is insisting that I invite you to the wedding. The very last thing I want is for you to come and I told him this, but he has some fucked up notions that you being there means you accept the fact that we’re married and that you won’t change your mind and come groveling back to me one day in the future. I know. He’s fucking crazy. Like I would entertain that notion for even a millisecond. After the things you said, I can’t fathom you ever choosing to be in my presence again, but just in case you’re wondering how I feel. There you go.

  In conclusion, running into you was awkward. Let’s not let that happen again. Don’t be such a heartless asshole. Losing a person twice isn’t easy. You should have at least taken me out to dinner before you fucked me over. And you’re invited to our wedding. Formal wedding invitation to follow, but you better RSVP ‘no’.

  P.S. I’m sorry it’s late. The delay was out of my hands, but your furniture is being delivered tomorrow. I’ll finish the job and make sure it’s installed properly. (As long as you’re not there.)

  P.P.S. I thought blondes were more your thing, cradle robber.

  Time (cough, cough) and (give me) Space,

  Lainey

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lainey

  It took far longer to compose the email to Cody than I’m willing to admit. The words started forming the second I saw him with that girl in the café. Jealousy like I’ve never experienced hit me like a tsunami. It was a horrible feeling that had me seeing green. I think dealing with his death was easier. At least then I thought he was gone for good. Now I know he’s living, breathing, and potentially loving someone other than me. I’m marrying another man and I feel like this about Cody. It’s the most selfish, horrible predicament that anyone on the face of the earth has ever had to deal with. I’m sure of it. I reassure Dax all the time, because why wouldn’t he be leery? I tried to break up with him multiple times while I was with Cody all in the name of true love. Lying to him this time is easy. Cody doesn’t want me anymore. He’s moved on so thoroughly that he’s dating. My stomach flips and I feel faint thinking of him with another woman. Will this feeling ever subside? Will this be my torture for not being right for him? It doesn’t seem fair. In fact, it seems like utter, fucking crap. Anger is the next step in the progression to forgetting Cody Ridge, and I remind myself of that daily.

  “We don’t have to go on our honeymoon directly following the wedding, Dax. I mean, you’ll be busy at work and I have a couple of design jobs in limbo.” He already vetoed my idea of skipping a honeymoon altogether. He says we need to reconnect on a deeper level somewhere off the map, just the two of us. He’s probably right. I’m just going along with the motions at this point because Dax is so sure about everything. It will be enough for me too. It has to. The Rostov clan is coming to town for a big ole’ wedding. “I know you think we should go somewhere exotic and different, but what if we stayed close to home?” I think of the house, my house, in the Hamptons and long for another visit. Dax would be severely depressed if he knew where my thoughts are right now.

  Dax looks up from a stack of pamphlets, folders, and books scattered in front of him. “Where did you have in mind?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

  Picking up my spoon, I dip it back into my coffee and begin stirring it again. “Oh, I don’t know. A quick flight. A long weekend somewhere manageable.” Nonchalant enough?

  He shrugs. “It’s like you don’t care, Lainey. I thought we moved past this. You were excited for the wedding before, now you’re lukewarm at best. Is it him, still?”

  I cough on a hot sip. “Of course not. We’ve been together for a long time. I’m not the type of person who wants flair and dramatics. I get the desire to get away for a bit, but it doesn’t have to be to Bali or Seychelles or some private island off the coast of Australia. Simple is all I’m saying. I’m not lukewarm, Dax. I’m hot,” I say, smiling at him over my mug. He smiles back—it’s genuine and warm. This is why I’m marrying him.

  Standing up, I walk over and perch myself in his lap and clasp my hands around his neck. “You’re beyond hot, but I’d fathom a guess you know that already. You’re trying to work your wiles at this very moment,” Dax says, running his hand over my knee and up my leg.

  “My wiles are quite innocent, Mr. Redding,” I respond, using my very best Austen English accent.

  He laughs. “Innocence isn’t something you play well.”

  That takes me aback a little, but he doesn’t mean it the way he should. Because he truly is the innocent one in this coupling. He doesn’t realize it. I kiss him on the corner of his mouth, half on his cheek. I feel him smiling under my lips. That’s all I feel—the physical response from him. There’s no zings, emotions, wanton lust attached to anything these days. Since Cody, I haven’t felt much of anything below the waist. I don’t crave Dax’s touch or dream about bodice ripping sex that melts the bed sheets. Time. I just need more time to forget Cody. I’m not even sure if that’s a possibility, but I have hope. He took more than my heart. The casualties were high and far reaching. Hope. He can’t have that.

  Dax pulls me over his lap so I’m straddling him. His cock is hard and pushing against my core. “What do you think, Lainey? I said we should wait until our wedding night, but maybe we can fuck around a little. I miss you and this would probably be a lot less stressful if we both got our rocks off together.” Dax hasn’t been staying with me at my house. We’ve fucked a million times, but now he wants to wait until the wedding. Something about prolonging the longing. I’m not sure how it does anything except frustrate him, but I agreed mainly because I don’t care about sex right now. When I do dream about sex, Dax isn’t the star of my wet and wild fantasies.

  His eyelids are heavy as he strokes the outside of my thighs. “Oh, my, Mr. Redding. You’d have me fuck around before the big walk?” I ask, staying in character. The word fuck doesn’t have a ladylike quality with any accent. That’s okay. I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be dirty in every country around the world.

  He leans in and kisses my neck. “I’d fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk,” he responds. What should ignite desire makes me feel uneasy instead. He’s your fucking fiancé, Lainey. Pull your shit together and be a woman. I’m saved from having to concoct a response when my cell phone rings on the table behind me. It’s the morose tone I assign when my mother calls.

  I hold my finger to Dax’s lips. “Hold that thought, baby,” I say, scooting off and into my own chair to answer the call. He’d never have me ignore my mother, being the gentleman he is. Right now, he looks like he may have changed his stance on it, though.

  “Mom. How are you?” I say into the smartphone. She greets me, her accent sounding familiar and comforting to my Americanized ears. “Yes, I’m home. Why do you ask?” I haven’t spoken to her about Cody. She hasn’t asked. It’s the unspoken rule that I’m not to fuck up this wedding.

  “Your cousins are flying in for your bachelorette party. They can stay at your house, right?” I’d forgotten completely about the party. Chloe has been planning it for months, but we haven’t spoken about it recently. Shit.

  Chloe invited family from overseas? It’s news to me. Unwelcome news. “That’s right,” I say, pretending to know and pulling my planner open at the same time. I let my finger scroll through the dates and find the Saturday it’s planned for. It’s not even marked in my fucking calendar. It’s this weekend. God help me.

  “Sure thing. Of course they can stay with me. Do they need a ride from the airport?”

  “No, no. Of course they’ll get a driver. Do
you need to hire cleaners before they arrive?” Oh, this is where she’s going with this conversation.

  I scoff. “Mom, my house is always clean.” Because I have a cleaner come biweekly. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

  “It’s a large house, Lainey. I want to make sure you’re not overwhelmed with anything before the big day. That’s enough for you to worry about.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, my tone sharp. Dax looks up. I see him scrutinizing my face in my peripheral vision. I ignore him the best I can, but I’m not sure where Mom is going, so I stand up and start pacing around the dining room.

  She’s silent on the other end. I hear her breathing. “I know, sweetheart. I know how you’re feeling. Conflicted, to put it mildly. I can’t imagine how I’d feel in your situation.” Pain sears my chest. Cody. Even my disconnected mother senses my inner turmoil by merely looking at my situation from the outside, knowing no details.

  I glance behind me at Dax and give him a little smile before slipping out of a set of French doors that lead to an open deck. “You don’t know a lot of things, Mom. Cody made it quite clear that I’m making the right decision by marrying Dax. Don’t worry about me. I know how to make good life decisions.”

  “You’re my daughter. I’ll always worry for you. Good as the decision may be, it may not be where your heart is. Of course I’ll be enraged if you call off another wedding, but I’ll get over it if it means you’re making a good life decision that also makes your heart happy. I just can’t imagine,” she says. No one can imagine.

  “Cody broke up with me, Mom. The exact words he used were ‘I don’t want you, Lainey. Marry him.’ I can’t argue with that. He’s a jerk, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Dax is a great man and I’ll live a beautiful, loving life with him. When do my cunning cousins arrive?” Maybe a subject change will help ease the tremors in my hands. I suck in a breath away from the phone receiver. Air. I need air. I can’t talk about this. My cousins aren’t really my cousins. They are the twin daughters of my mother’s best friend. I grew up with them teasing me unmercifully. Two against one isn’t fun. I’d fathom a guess that I hold the upper hand these days, but the prospect of seeing them, partying with them, and housing them is daunting. At least I’m getting married first.