by Scott, Shae
"Hi," I manage. I wonder if my face is giving away the fact that my heart is pounding or the instant ease that took over my body at the sight of her. I hope not. I hope so.
"Is it okay that I just stopped by?" she asks.
"Em, I stop by your house all the time. It's always okay for you to stop by," I smile.
"But after what I said I wasn't sure."
"Come in," I offer holding the door wider. She bites her lip and then reaches for something out of sight. I crane my head around the door to see her pick up a huge bag of take out from the diner.
"You brought dinner? You read my mind. Were you hiding the bags?" I ask.
She shrugs, "Just in case you turned me away."
I grab her hand and pull her inside, "Get in here." I keep her hand in mine as I lead her to the kitchen where she sets the bag down. I don't hesitate, I grab her and pull her close to me in a hug, taking the closeness that I've been craving for the past few days. It feels like I can breathe easier now.
"I missed you," I admit quietly, my lips against her hair. So much for analyzing what I should do. Right now I just want to tell her the truth. The fact that she is here adds to my hope that she's ready to hear it.
"Me too," she says, squeezing me tighter.
When we pull apart I can tell she's still nervous. She's never been here before. I don't even know how she knew where I lived.
"As happy as I am to see you, I'm also really happy you brought me food," I tease in an effort to settle her nerves. It's almost like she's gone back to the way she was when she first came back. We can't have that. Not at all. It makes me wonder what has been going through her head the last few days.
I lead her into the kitchen and empty the giant bag she brought with her. I catch her looking around and taking everything in. I wonder if she's surprised that I have a grown up house.
As if reading my thoughts, she says, "I like your place. It's so clean."
I laugh. "Well, I'm never here so that helps." Her cheeks tint pink as she takes a seat at the kitchen table and pulls some fries towards her.
Talk to me, James I want to say. I need to break this awkwardness somehow.
Luckily she calms down as we eat. I see her relax, her smile coming easier. I have to remind myself not to stare at her. I have to remind myself over and over again because she looks fucking beautiful. I'm not sure if it's the way her hair falls in soft waves or the smile that lights up the whole room or just the simple fact that I haven't seen her in three days, but I can't pull my eyes away from her. The need to touch her is consuming me. She's talking with her hands, telling me about something that happened at the office today and all I can think about is how soft her hands are and how good they feel against my callused ones.
Before I can stop myself I reach across the table and take them into mine. She stops her story, her breath catching, and stares at me. I lift my eyes from our joined hands to her face. "Sorry," I say. I'm not really. Not at all.
"Everything okay?" she asks cautiously.
"It's great. I just had to touch you," I shrug.
Her cheeks pink and she looks down at our hands.
I should probably be careful. After all, it's behavior like this that had her demanding time apart and space. I know I shouldn't push her. But being away from her just has me realizing how much I need to be near her.
We sit at the table for an hour after we finish eating. She rattles on talking up a storm and I'm so relieved that she hasn't reverted back to the quiet girl who was so timid when she first got home. I could listen to her go on and on forever. I don't even try to hide the smile that seems to have settled in so permanently tonight.
She's here.
She didn't run.
I feel like the luckiest bastard around.
I catch her yawn and I hate that she's probably about to go. I move to pick up the trash from the to-go bags and she follows behind me, grabbing a dish towel to clean the table. I watch as she leans across the wood table and stretches to the other side to clear away any crumbs that we left behind.
She's fucking beautiful.
I'm still standing there staring at her when she turns around.
"What?" she asks shyly. I reach out my hand to her, inviting her to come close to me. She only hesitates for a moment before closing the distance between us and slipping her hand into mine.
"Did the space help?" I ask.
She chews her lip nervously. "Not really. It just made me miss having you around," she admits.
"I missed having you around too," I say. I pull her closer to me so that she's only a breath away. I shouldn't bring her so close. I shouldn't inhale her flowery scent or stare down into her nervous, wanting eyes and dare her to cross the lines she's so carefully placed. I shouldn't risk her walking away again, but I want to kiss her. I want to feel her skin under my fingers and taste her sweet lips, even for a moment.
"I'll be good," I promise, even though we both know that I don't want to be.
"For now at least?" she teases through a breathy voice that turns my cock rock hard.
"For now," I say. I lean in and kiss her cheek, closer to her lips than I should, but still way too far away.
She pulls back slightly and it's a good thing or she'd know just how far from good I am right now.
"I should get home. I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks hopefully.
"Tomorrow," I agree. She steps up to give me a hug and I follow her to the door so I can walk her to her car. She gives me a wave as she climbs in and backs out of the drive.
We didn't say it, but it feels like we've silently agreed to take one more baby step forward.
It feels amazing.
Emery
I'M REALLY GLAD I decided to let go of the whole notion of space. Those few days without talking to him or having him put his feet on my coffee table were the worst. I hated every second.
I was so afraid that I was using him to run from things that I needed to deal with. I couldn’t fall back into that comfortable trap. It is what got me here in the first place. Instead, the time away helped me realize that my relationship with Cole has its own merit. Now that I know that I feel comfortable taking it as it comes.
Yes, I am a widow. Yes, I have to figure out what that means to me and what it means in in regards to moving on. But it doesn't have to be decided today. Giving myself permission to let it sit is probably the smartest thing I’ve done.
I'm going to enjoy the moments where things feel good. Where things feel easier. Like today, having lunch with Cole at a sidewalk table on the downtown square. Spontaneous and perfect. When he showed up at the office around lunch and asked if I wanted to grab a bite to eat I wasn't about to say no. I don't usually see him at the office much. He's always on the site somewhere, so it makes me happy to get in some unexpected time.
I've been home for almost four months now. Some days it feels like I've been here much longer. I can barely remember those last few weeks in Connecticut without having to really think about them The edges of my memory start to blur. Probably because it's too painful. It's still too difficult to imagine Gabe dead. In my head it almost feels like we just got divorced. Like maybe he's on some trip with one of his mistresses and no longer my concern.
It's easier to think of him that way.
Especially when I'm with Cole.
Everything with him is so easy. I could sit here at this sidewalk table and drink coffee with him all day. I would ask him to do just that if he didn't have to go back to work.
Our conversation is interrupted when a tall blond loaded down with shopping bags steps up to the railing beside our table. "Cole Bennett, I thought that was your handsome face over here," she smiles, throwing him a flirty look. I feel my entire body stiffen as I take her in from behind the safety of my sunglasses.
She's a living Barbie doll. Seriously, she's one of those southern belle beauty queens that light up the world and vow to end world hunger. She's walking perfection and I suddenly feel plain in my shorts an
d tank top. Next to her well pressed dress and four inch heels I look forgettable at best.
"Hi, Aubrey," Cole returns politely. I try to read between the two words to find any kind of emotion or attachment there.
"Are you actually taking a break from work in the middle of the day? Am I missing some major holiday or something?" she smiles sweetly as she shifts the bags in her hands. I swallow, as she flicks a glance my direction.
"No, just taking some time away to have lunch with a dear friend. Have you met Emery Forrester? She's Henry James' daughter," he says by introduction. Aubrey finally turns her full attention to me giving me a sugary sweet smile. I don't miss the once over that accompanies it.
"Oh, Henry's daughter. I heard you were back in town. How wonderful. I should have known ya'll would know each other. Practically grew up together I imagine. I'm sure Cole mentioned it at some point when we were together. I just can't remember all of his stories," she says with a laugh. I don't miss her jab, the way she drops the information so carefully that they have a history or the way that her hand reaches out and rests on his arms letting me know she'd like to resurrect it. Classic mean girl.
"It's nice to meet you," I offer.
"You too. I'm sure we'll see each other around. Small town and all."
I nod as she turns her attention back to Cole, her face lighting up. "So, I was thinking, I got some tickets for the music festival from work. I thought you might want to go. It's next Saturday."
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I know that Cole and I are only friends, but the idea that he would accept a date right in front of me makes me twitchy. I try to look anywhere but at the two of them. It feels like I'm invading a private moment, which is exactly what sweet Miss Aubrey wants. But when I steal a peek at Cole from the corner of my eye he has pulled his arm away from her grasp.
"Thanks for the offer, Aubrey. But I don't think so." He says it with a simple finality that makes my heart do a little flip. I warn said heart to calm down because it tends to behave irrationally when it comes to Cole Bennett.
"Well, at least think about it," she pouts.
"I have plans next weekend," he says.
"Oh." She glances at me again and I see the question there in her eyes. I work hard to remain expressionless.
"But it was nice seeing you," he says and I hear the dismissal in his voice.
She must hear it too because she straightens her shoulders and smiles a little wider. "You too. It was nice meeting you, Emery. I better get these bags to the car. I'm meeting Momma for lunch. She's probably waiting for me already." She’s halfway down the street as she waves over her shoulder.
She really is beautiful. "She's pretty," I say, watching her as she moves across the street towards her car. It's not just that she is perfectly put together, it's her confidence. It just rolls off of her.
I wonder if I used to look like that. If that is what draws Cole in. I feel his eyes on me, but I can't bring myself to look at him. I'm nothing like that. Not anymore. When he doesn't agree or respond I ask, "How long were you together?" I can't help myself. I'm curious.
"Just over a year,” he answers, but he offers up nothing more. As I watch her put her bags into the back seat and then slide into her seat gracefully, I can't but wonder what they were like together.
"So it was pretty serious?" I ask.
He shrugs, "I don't know. We got along well, but there was never the connection that made me feel like we'd follow through."
I hate the feeling of relief that hits me. It's so unfair. I was married to another man and here I am happy that his last relationship had fallen short. It is a selfish reaction, but one I can't fight off.
"She still seems pretty smitten," I say, because why not torture myself.
He laughs, "Aubrey can be persistent when she wants to be. But, she knows it's over. There was no doubt left there."
Warmth spreads through my chest at his words. Wrong or not, it feels good to know I'm not competing with her and her perfect hair and stupid long legs. I can't help but feel plain next to someone like her, but when Cole looks across the table and gives me that sexy little smirk I forget about the insecurities and melt into my seat.
When he looks at me like that I feel anything but plain or invisible.
I feel alive.
Cole
WHEN I PULL UP TO Emery's house it's lit up like a Christmas tree. There’s a good chance every single light in the house is on. I knock on the door but there's no movement from the other side. I can hear music coming from somewhere, but still no Emery. Emery never listens to music, so just the muffled sound of it sends an alarm bell ringing in my head.
I contemplate just breaking in and seeing if she's here, but that seems creepy. And illegal. Still, I don't want to leave. I open the screen and bang against the door again, listening close for any noise coming from the other side. It's then that I hear the loud clanging and a curse followed by a familiar giggle. I cock my head to pinpoint the sound.
Back deck. I race down the steps and head around the house. The gate creeks as I open it and make my way down the old sidewalk towards the deck. I spot her then, siting in the old wood rocking chair her feet propped up on the railing her toes bouncing to the beat of the music coming from the tiny radio on the table beside her. The table also holds a shot glass and a bottle of tequila.
This could be interesting.
"Em?" I ask as I step up on the bottom stair. I don't want to startle her, she seems completely zoned out, eyes shut and lost in the song. At the sound of my voice her eyes snap open and a huge smile takes over her face.
"Cole!" I wonder how much of that tequila she's had so far. Her eyes are starting to look a little glossy. "You're here. I was just thinking about you. And here you are. Poof. It's like I'm magic or something."
I laugh and make my way up to the deck. "What are you doing partying out here all by yourself?" I ask taking a seat in the chair beside her.
"I'm not by myself anymore. I was waiting for you," she says sweetly.
"But you didn't get me a glass?" I tease.
The space between her brows creases with her frown and I smile. "You can share my glass," she says finally.
"Are we celebrating something?" I take the glass from the table and pour some of the clear liquid. She frowns again, deeper this time.
"It's my anniversary," she says flatly. Shit. I down the shot.
I pour another and hand it to her. "I had no idea," I say, because I'm unsure how to handle this situation. We talk about Gabe and we talk about her marriage, but this is something new. Regardless of how unhappy she might have been he was still her husband. She's still a widow. I have to keep reminding myself of that, otherwise I get completely swept up in how she makes me feel and all of the things that I want to do with her.
"Three years. Today would have been three years. It's crazy when I think about it really. Three years is nothing. Especially when you think about how fast it all fell apart." Her voice is far off, lost in memories. She downs the shot like it's water, another sign that she's probably had too many of them already.
"You want to talk about it?" I ask. I'm not really sure I want her to say yes. As curious as I am about what happened with the two of them, the idea of listening to her talk about it is less than appealing.
She seems to think about it. I watch as she brushes her hair out of her face and I caution my heart and the way it does that dangerous flip, but she looks so beautiful that I can't help it. Her legs are bare, teasing me all the way up to her tiny little shorts. The white tank top she wears is no better, with the strap that hangs loosely at her shoulder begging me to kiss the skin it left behind.
I pour myself another shot.
"You probably think I'm a fool. For staying with him. I mean, all you see is sad, broken Emery. But it's not like I was always that way. We were happy together once," she says firmly.
I nod, letting her continue. I hate hearing that. How messed up is that? I'm jealous of a dead guy.
>
"I mean it," she says, staring me straight in the eye as if she's sure I don't believe her.
"I'm sure you were," I assure her. "No way would you have married the guy if you weren't happy."
"Right."
She falls silent again and the crickets sing along to the country radio station.
"When we met he told me that he loved the way I talked. Said I was like a breath of fresh air," she smiles. I would have agreed with him given the chance. "Then, after we were married and he was working for his dad he didn't like it so much anymore," she said, her voice far off.
I feel my body tense. "What do you mean?"
She shrugs, "They were all so fancy. Not a single one of them knew how to have any kind of fun. I never fit in with any of the people he knew. I was just the country girl with the twangy voice that they all made fun of. I was a joke."
My jaw is going to snap from the force of teeth clenching down. Emery has given me glimpses of her life with Gabe, but this is probably the most honest she's been. The anger that boils up in my gut makes it hard to sit still and listen. I'd rather hop a plane and take down every asshole who ever made her feel inadequate. I'm trying to find my voice and find the right words to say that won't involve me bashing her dead husband's name, but I'm not sure that I know what those are. Before I can speak she continues her confession.
"People change. Right before your eyes. Do you know that, Cole? You can think you know someone, think you know everything about them and then suddenly it's like you are living with a stranger. And you can try and fix it. You can fight against it with everything that you have. You can try and get back what you had, but once it changes you can never really go back."
"Are you talking about Gabe?" I ask quietly, not sure that I want the answer. I want to know. I want to know because whatever happened in her marriage changed her, but I also know that hearing the truth will make me hate him and I'm not so sure I'll be able to hide that once we sober up.
