The Other F-Word

by MK Schiller

  I busied myself taking the plates into the kitchen. He came behind me, embracing me, while I scrubbed a dish.

  “She liked you. I never had a doubt.”

  “I liked her too. Very much.”

  “Baby, you don’t have to do the dishes. Helen will be here this afternoon.”

  “I’m not leaving these for your housekeeper. I can do them.”

  “Okay, fine. This is going to take me a few hours. Do you want to have dinner tonight? We can try the role-playing again if you want, although if I was casting you in a role, it would be naked, hot girl in bed.”

  “Dinner sounds good.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six. Your place or mine tonight?”

  It was a question we asked each other almost every night, except for those times Damien had business trips or I was spending time with my family.

  “Yours—the realtor’s showing my house tonight.”

  “I think we should talk about that. Have you decided where you’re going to live once you sell?”

  I shrugged, enjoying the way his hard body felt against me. “I’ll start looking soon. Probably an apartment close to work.”

  “What about here?”

  “Damien, I can’t afford the rent in this building. I don’t even think I could swing a parking spot here. It’s one of the most expensive zip codes in the country.”

  He sighed, spinning me around to face him. “I mean here with me.”

  I gaped at him, blinking into understanding. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Because of your whole ‘kept woman’ theory?” He used air quotes.

  It was partially because of that. I wasn’t an old fashion person by any means, yet it would be hard to explain to my children that I was living with a man. How ironic that the two reasons opposed each other. I was modern enough to want to earn my own keep, but old fashioned enough not to move in with a man without marriage. How stupid?

  “Yes,” I said because it was simpler to explain.

  “I’ll tell you what. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll charge you rent—whatever you’d pay at an apartment. I kind of like the idea of being your landlord. We can have some fun role play with that one.”

  I dropped my head. “Damien—”

  He tilted my chin up, brushing his lips against mine. “Jessie, I want to go to sleep with you next to me every night and start each day with you. This place always feels brighter to me when you’re here. Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good, I’ll see you tonight.”

  He kissed me again. His kisses still caused a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I craved them. I stood on my tip toes, putting my arms around him and holding him close.

  “Baby, I really have to go.”

  “I just wanted to hold you for a minute. Let me.”

  He tightened our embrace, picking me up and setting me on the counter. We made out like teenagers and his hands roamed across my body. “Padded perfection,” he whispered as his fingers rubbed against my bra.

  I laughed, pressing my lips against his neck.

  He finally broke us apart. “Stop it, sexy librarian. The other gang members might make fun of me,” he said, breathing hard. He put his arms around my waist, lifting me off the counter. He kissed my right cheek while running his finger down the other. It was a gesture I’d grown accustomed to, but each time he did it, it sent shivers down my spine.

  I returned to the dishes, but before he walked out, I remembered what I had to ask him. “Damien?”

  “Yes?” He paused, halfway out the kitchen.

  “What did your mom whisper to you before she left? You don’t have to tell me if it’s private. I was just curious.”

  He was silent for a minute, shuffling his feet as a sheepish smile crept across his gorgeous face. “Just a mom thing.” He stalked away.

  I chased after him. I grabbed the large, heavy elevator door before it shut.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Okay, now you have to tell me what she said.”

  His statement had heightened my curiosity. I was a mother, and moms didn’t say things just for kicks.

  He gave me the sweetest smile, full of warmth and love. “She said we’d make her some beautiful grandchildren someday.”

  I dropped my hand, keeping my smile glued in place, while I watched the elevator doors shut. Shut on us.

  I walked back to the apartment, feeling every one of my years, like the spell of my newfound youth had been broken along with my heart. My shoulders slumped as I entered the kitchen. I kept washing the dishes like some kind of mechanical robot, not wanting to absorb his words, pretending I hadn’t heard them. It wasn’t until a platter slipped from my fingers that the panic took full root. The tears scorched my face as I slid to the floor among the pile of broken glass, depleted of all my previous elation with that one simple sentence.

  How could I have been such an idiot and not thought of this? It occurred to me that in fact I had. Our age difference worried me so much, despite his constant reassurances, but deep down on a subconscious level, the fear was justified. Of course, he’d want children and marriage and all those things that were no longer part of my vocabulary. What was I going to do? I loved him, but I wasn’t right for him. Somehow, I had always known that.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’d spent the day doing that last cleaning for the potential buyers while listening to Rodriguez’s Crucify Your Mind, on repeat. The work helped distract me. I polished things that were polished. I dusted areas until I was actually applying dust, not removing it. I scoured the baseboards until I realised I was scrubbing the paint right off them. In the midst of it all, I discovered pieces of the past. I found beads in a vent from Stevie’s jewellery-making kit when she was six. I found a softball of Marley’s that had to be at least ten years old under her bed. I found a piece of paper with a few scrawled forgotten words of poetry under Billie’s wastebasket. It was trash. It was treasure. I kept it all.

  I thought about Damien and that conversation. I justified that he’d never said he wanted kids. We’d never talked about it. Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to. If we did, then decisions would need to be made, and it wouldn’t go well.

  He picked me up for dinner. I donned a body-hugging maroon dress with my favourite push up bra and my highest heels. I wore my hair down and the diamond studs he’d bought me in my ears. I told myself, always look good when you’re feeling sad. It helps.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, opening the door for me.

  “Thank you. Not so bad yourself, handsome.”

  “What happened to your finger?” he asked when he got into the driver’s seat.

  “What?”

  He clasped my wrist, holding up my hand with the bandaged finger.

  “I broke one of your plates this morning.”

  “Are you all right?” He kissed the bandage.

  “It wasn’t a plate, but that big platter you have with the square design.”

  “Are you all right?” he repeated.

  “It just slipped out of my hand. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t fucking care about that. Are you all right?”

  “Fine, can we go, please?”

  He looked like he wanted to say more. I didn’t want him to. I just wanted to enjoy tonight. How many more would we have? I brought up the property he went to look at and we chatted about it the rest of the way.

  The restaurant was elegant and expensive. We waited behind a man and a little girl in a princess outfit, waving a magic wand at us. Damien smiled at her.

  “I played a princess today,” she said, grinning with a missing front tooth that I’d always thought was adorable on children.

  “I thought you were a real princess,” Damien said.

  “Silly, there aren’t real princesses.”

  “There are. They live in faraway places, but they exist.”

  The exchange between them both melted and b
roke my heart in the same instance.

  “Come on, sweetie. We have to go,” her father said, taking her hand.

  “But I don’t want to go.” She pouted in that cute way that made people want to grant a child her every wish.

  “I forgot to make a reservation. I didn’t realise we needed one,” her father explained, looking contrite.

  “We always eat here on Mommy’s birthday. You promised we could still come, so I could have the fire dessert.” This wasn’t a normal temper tantrum. The little girl’s lips trembled.

  “Fire dessert?” I asked her.

  “Baked Alaska,” Damien explained.

  Her father took her hand, but she remained rooted, tears clouding her bright eyes.

  “Can I assist?” Damien interjected.

  “My wife always made the reservations. Just one more thing I forgot that she did.” The father said, giving us a sad smile that mirrored his daughter’s.

  Damien nodded. “Take ours.”

  “That’s generous of you, but we can’t do that.”

  “I insist. I couldn’t enjoy the meal knowing a princess didn’t get her fire dessert.” Damien gave the little girl a goofy grin, which she mimicked, wiping her tears. He gestured to the maître d’. “Please seat them at the table reserved for Wolfe,” he said.

  “Thank you,” the man said gratefully, shaking Damien’s hand.

  “I’m sorry, Jessie, I should have asked if you were all right with that.”

  I swallowed back the huge lump in my throat. “Of course I am.”

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Fine.”

  Damien called out to a man standing off to the side, “Joel, can you please make sure their tab gets sent to me? And that you set aside a double piece of Baked Alaska for her?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr Wolfe, I’ll see to it personally.”

  “Thank you,” he said, putting his arm around me and guiding me to the door.

  He sighed once we were out in the cold air. “We could go to the bar across the street, but I honestly doubt they’d have anything that didn’t have meat or cheese in it.”

  “It’s perfect—I could use some cheese right now,” I said, walking in the direction.

  “You must have had a rough day,” he said, catching up to me.

  How did he know me so well?

  We sat in a corner booth in the crowded bar. I ordered a vodka straight up. Damien quirked his eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. All my thoughts were a jumbled mishmash of emotions. Then when I thought my heart couldn’t race any harder in my chest, it got worst.

  “Emmie, is that you?” Kevin Bossman interrupted my rapid thoughts.

  Shit…not a good time. “Hi, Kevin, it’s good to see you.”

  Kevin smiled, combing through his thinning copper hair. He had less hair and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes now, but he was still debonair, in that Robert Redford classic way. “You look exactly the same.”

  “So do you,” I said with a gracious smile.

  “You’re a horrible liar. You should never play poker, sweetheart.” He leant down, giving me a hug.

  I didn’t have to look at Damien to know he was seething. I felt his anger float across the table, especially when Kevin took my hand and kissed it.

  “How are those beautiful daughters of yours? You know, it must have been close to two years ago, but Marley called me to see about getting a reservation at my restaurant. Of course I always have a table reserved in case you’re ever in the neighbourhood.”

  I giggled nervously. “She told me. Thanks for doing that. You know she just got married to the man who she made the reservation for.”

  He frowned. “That’s interesting because she wasn’t with him that night.”

  I winced, wishing I’d never brought it up. “It’s a long story.”

  “Anytime you’d like to tell it, you know where I am.”

  I took the drink our waitress had set down, ordering another immediately. I downed it in one swallow, like a shot.

  “Excuse me,” Damien seethed. “I’d like to introduce myself, since no one else is doing it. I’m Damien Wolfe, Emmie’s boyfriend.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners,” I said, feeling my face burn.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Kevin greeted, shaking Damien’s hand.

  I saw poor Kevin cringe when Damien tightened his grip.

  “Well, I should be going,” Kevin said. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you, Emmie.”

  “You too, Kevin.” I smiled politely, but Kevin wasn’t done. He leant down and kissed my cheek.

  “Kevin, is it?” Damien asked, not taking his eyes off me.

  “That’s right.”

  “I just want to make something clear, I don’t mind you kissing my girlfriend’s hand in a gentlemanly gesture if she’s fine with it, but I have a real problem with you kissing her cheek. You see, that kiss belongs to me.”

  Kevin’s eyes widened, but when I turned back to look at Damien, he was still staring at me with an acidic smile that burned right through me.

  “Understood.” Kevin walked away.

  “Did you have to be such an asshole?” I said, matching his expression.

  “Did you have to pretend like I wasn’t here?”

  “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “What, forgot about me?”

  “Jesus, Damien, he’s just an old friend. The last man I dated. He has no interest in me.”

  “He’s right, you should never play poker. You have no understanding of an opponent’s tells. He’s still interested in you.”

  I sighed. This wasn’t going the way I expected. “You’re being silly.”

  “Silly?” Damien drummed his fingers on the table. It was something most people did when they were bored or thoughtful. Damien did it when he was pissed off. “I make multi-million dollar transactions every day. I know how to read an opponent when I meet one.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “It’s hard to tell since you didn’t bother introducing me. You practically ignored me, Jessie.”

  This was ridiculous. A minute ago, I was contemplating how long it would take him to break up with me and now I was having a stupid argument with him about a man I had no interest in. A silly thought occurred to me. If I had taken the time to analyse it, I would have never blurted it out, but I was a desperate woman, trying to save what we had. “Maybe we should see other people, Damien.”

  He stopped drumming immediately. The absence of the sound made my heart beat even harder. He was quiet for a minute. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “I think it might be a good idea,” I said, staring down at my hands.

  He tilted my chin to face him. His eyes were like burning forests. “You want to see other people? Is that what you want?”

  “Sure.”

  “And you’re fine with me seeing other girls and what…being with you on the side? That’s what we are?”

  “I think we’re a little too serious.”

  “Because I’m jealous? Because you want to see Kevin?”

  “No, I just think it might be a good idea.”

  “I see. Okay, I think that’s a brilliant idea then.”

  He shifted his gaze away from mine, scanning the room. “What are you doing?”

  “Scoping out the crowd. There are so many pretty girls here.”

  “I didn’t mean now.”

  He smile was so strained I thought it might hurt his face. “No time like the present. Want me to find a girl who might be into a threesome? That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

  I knew what he was doing. He was testing me because he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t sure if I was up for his challenge. Now that I had blurted this absurd idea, I had to see it through. After all, some part of Damien was better than none.

  “I’m more of a one-on-one kind of girl, but you go ahead and do what you need to do. Don’t mind me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Our
waitress came then. She was young, blonde and tall. Her eyes lingered on Damien, and she played with her hair while she set down our fresh drinks. It was apparent he noticed, but he didn’t return any of her smiles. He resumed his search though as soon as she left. “Make yourself useful, Jessie. Help me out here. You see anyone bang-worthy in this crowd?”

  “Our waitress seems to have a crush on you.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Why? She’s very pretty.”

  He leaned closer to me, dropping his voice to a tense whisper, even though we were safe from being overheard. “I don’t want to wait for her to get off so I can…get off.”

  “I didn’t realise you were in such a rush.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “Red head in the tight mini-skirt, six o’clock.”

  He looked over at the direction I’d given.

  “How do you know she’s wearing a mini-skirt? She’s sitting down at a table.”

  “I saw her walk in and she was watching you the whole way to her table.” It was true. It had been difficult at first, but over the months we’d been together, I’d grown accustomed to the looks women gave Damien. Like a wolf, he had an animalistic sexual vibe, but a gentleness too. Most women were in a constant state of heat around him.

  He punched me in the arm playfully. “Thanks, buddy. You’re such a great wingman. Always looking out for me. What would I do without you?”

  “So are you going to make your move?”

  “Are you sure you want me to?” He was waiting for me to stop him. He wanted me to tell him I’d spoken out of turn, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. A stubborn attitude was a DNA trait that ran in all the women in my family, and I had more than my fair share.

  “Don’t let me get in your way. Go for it.”

  “I guess I will go then.”

  “Okay.”

  “If I do this then I’m really doing it, Jessie. If I strike out, I’ll just get up to bat again.”

  “You haven’t got up to bat the first time.”

  “I’m just letting you know that I fully intend to fuck a girl into oblivion tonight, because I have your blessing to do so.”