Conspiring (This #2.5)

by J. B. McGee

  “Right.” I’m relieved. I don’t think I have the energy for anymore dressing.

  I’m still holding his arms. My head is spinning from standing up. Part of me just wants to plop back down on my bed, but I know I’m going to eventually have to make my way into the living room. He must have read my mind again because he asks, “Can you walk to the living room?”

  “I have to get there eventually. I can try.”

  He shakes his head and swiftly scoops me into his arms like he did in the bathroom. Too tired to really laugh, I just smile and close my eyes. “Thank you,” I mutter as I look up to him.

  “The last thing I need is for you to pass out on me.” He gently puts me down onto the loveseat. “I think you’re dehydrated.”

  There is no doubt in my mind. Laying back down reminds me of the heaviness in my chest. I start coughing, and now I’m worried that I won’t be able to make it back to the bathroom if I start to throw up again. I can see the same realization come to him because his eyes bulge, and he dashes to the kitchen. There are cabinet doors slamming until he finds the right one. I hear the sound of metal clanking. As he places the stock pot in my lap, I lose the ability to hold back the dry heaving.

  We’re in the car on our way back to my house after seeing the doctor. It took forever because I was really dehydrated. Luckily, they were able to do some IV fluids in the office. I am feeling much better. Ian was right, and I was wheezing. The doctor also gave me a nebulizer treatment. He sent me home with a bag full of medications that are supposed to have me feeling better in no time. I’m amazed how much better I already feel.

  As I find myself looking out the window as the passenger in a car for the second day in a row, I realize that riding in the car on the way back from shopping with Val yesterday seems like an eternity ago. I make a mental note that I need to muster the strength when I get home to call her. At the very least, I need to text her to see if she and Alex can get my car. I’d do it now, but my phone died last night. I had Ian plug it into the charger before we left.

  Also, now that I’m able to think more clearly, I realize that I’m not sure what to say or do with the entire Ian situation. I know Bradley and I are not a couple, but we are something. I was selfish, reckless even last night. I know better than to behave like a crazy college girl gone wild. What I did was dangerous and stupid. That thought is dismissed quickly as I feel my body warming, responding to his proximity as I am reminded of all the things we shared. How wonderful it was to have someone to take care of me this morning. The thought makes me smile.

  Then I have an overwhelming feeling of guilt that envelopes me. I barely shake my head at myself. How can I feel guilty? This man, Ian, has been so gracious and accommodating to me. And the thought of someone taking care of me makes me feel incredible. It’s just that I don’t want it to be him. I thought I was over Bradley, but I’m not. I want him to take care of me. I think that’s what’s bothering me.

  When I took the test to see if I was pregnant at the doctor, all I could think of was that I wanted it to be positive. I’ve never thought I’d be excited, hopeful for that. But I found myself yearning for a baby with Bradley. I daydreamed about us picking out baby furniture, painting a nursery, and being a family. I want that. I am angry with myself for entertaining the thought of anything else.

  I feel bad because Ian has been so good to me, but I realize I have to talk to Bradley on Wednesday. I know he basically gave me an ultimatum last week about wanting more. I think I just need to call him on that, and see if he’s bluffing. Maybe once he knows everything. Once he knows how I feel, he’ll feel differently.

  As Ian pulls into my driveway, I feel that awkward tension. What to do now? I am going to be okay. I no longer really need someone to carry me around. Do I invite him inside? Do I get his number even though I have no intentions of ever seeing him again? I have no clue what to do. I hate to be that girl. You know, the one that takes advantage of his kindness and then ditches him.

  Turning towards him as I unbuckle my seat belt, our eyes lock. It’s so frustrating that we have this connection, this attraction. It’s very difficult for me to make clear, rash decisions in his presence. I know what I have to do, though. I swallow. “Ian, thank you so much for everything.”

  He nods his head. “Sure. So I guess this is it, then?”

  “Yeah. I had a really great time…” Shit, this is hard. I close my eyes before I say the next sentence. It’s because I know I don’t mean it. I need my game face, but I’m not sure I have the energy to use it. I’m not sure he will fall for it. Nothing I usually do has worked on him. “I’m just…I’m just not looking for anything serious right now.” Liar. All you want is something serious. This week has vividly shown me that.

  “Yeah, me neither,” he replies with a wicked grin. “But I would love to have more of what we had before you went and got crazy sick on me this morning.”

  As sick as I am, his sexy voice – those words – cause my body to jump to attention. I question whether I’m doing the right thing, but I think I am.

  “I’m so sorry about this morning. I’m mortified, really. I am –”

  He puts his finger over my lips, brushing a stray piece of hair that has fallen into my face from my messy ponytail back. “People get sick, I get it.” I know that look in his eyes. The one he gets before he’s about to kiss me. “No need to apologize.” He leans over and plants a tender, sweet kiss on my lips. “Feel better.”

  Yet another sweet gesture from him. Sitting here I realize how confused I am. I know what I need to do. What I should do. Why is it so hard? Snap out of it. I apologetically smile as I reach to open the door. I have never felt like I’ve taken advantage of someone until now. Part of me wants to invite him in and see where things go, but I know I can’t. Get. Out. Of. The. Car.

  “Thanks again,” I whisper.

  Ian smiles. “Bye Veronica.”

  Well the smile at least makes me feel a little better. He waits for me to get inside before he drives away. As I put the key in the lock, I remember him last night, his body against mine. Chills pop up all over my skin, even in the sweltering Atlanta heat, at the mere thought of his breath on my neck, at his touch.

  He seems like a great guy, and in any other situation, I’d be a fool for walking away from him. Forget about him, Veronica. Just let him go. Act like he doesn’t even exist.

  I hold my head high and walk into the kitchen to put away all of my new medications. I reach for my cell phone that is charging to call Val. I’m surprised to see a sticky note on the top of it. My brows furrow as curiosity consumes me.

  Hope you don’t mind, I called myself with your phone so I’d have your number. I programmed mine in yours. Feel better, pretty girl. –Ian

  My chest clenches. Tears spring into my eyes. How have I managed to get myself into this situation? The tightness in my chest from the impeding sob causes my cough to return, although not as bad as it had been. I grab the inhaler the doctor gave me in hopes it will keep me from being sick again. I’m so tired of puking.

  Chapter 8

  It’s Wednesday. I’m on my lunch break, but I haven’t really been able to eat much since Saturday. Still really weak from being so sick, I decide to just sit in my car for a little bit and rest. My mind is all over the place.

  I called Val on Sunday to see if she could get my car from Joe’s and bring it to me. She’s such a good friend. She brought it along with soup from Chick-Fil-A. After talking about everything that had happened with Ian, about how I felt when I took the pregnancy test at the doctor, and the guilt I felt about Bradley, I thought I was no longer confused because I knew what I needed to do: I need to talk to Bradley about all of this. I hope he will see eye to eye with me, but he’s stubborn.

  I slept almost all day Sunday, and the doctor had told me it might be a good idea to take Monday off, so I did. I didn’t have anything major scheduled. Monday’s are terrible if you feel great, so I knew it would be best if I just took a day
. Besides, I never take off from work.

  Usually I’ve heard from Bradley by Tuesday evening to confirm our Wednesday appointment. But nothing. Not a word. So naturally, now I’m so incredibly confused and emotional.

  My phone calls are going unanswered. I have been to Joe’s a couple of nights and he’s not been in while I was there. I am worried about him. I casually asked Joe if he had seen him or heard from him since Charleston. He told me he was back. He said he had just been busy. Busy. Right. And I was born yesterday.

  I’m aware that Joe knows Bradley and I are more than just friends. He acts like he doesn’t, but I don’t buy it. The feeling he’s purposely being evasive is bothersome.

  Like some kind of freak stalker, I’ve even ridden by Bradley’s apartment to see if he’s there. He’s never home. He’s never at Joe’s. I have no clue where he is or what he’s doing. Not that it’s really any of my business, I guess. I am starting to worry that he’s sending me a clear message. But I think, at the very least, I deserve the courtesy of a phone call to give me closure.

  Maybe he’s had a stressful week and just trying to catch up from being gone. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. This worrying and stalking him isn’t doing anything except making me feel even sicker. If I don’t hear from him tonight, I’ll give him until Saturday. If he blows me off the entire week, I’ll know. I’ll know that he is done. The thought sickens me.

  Maybe it’s because I’m a creature of habit. This has been my routine for a long time. When I make up my mind to do something, I don’t stop until I’ve done it. I don’t like the idea that I’ve finally accepted my feelings for him and for what our future holds, and he’s not even giving me the opportunity to tell him.

  It’s amazing how quickly my hour went by just sitting in my car daydreaming. I dread the rest of the day at work. I decide as I walk back to the building that if I don’t hear from him I’m just going to go to Joe’s like I normally would. Maybe he’ll be there. If he’s not, then I’ll drill Joe more, try to see what is going on with him.

  The rest of the afternoon has gone by at a snail’s pace. It has been difficult to do anything other than check my phone for texts and look at the clock. This is ridiculous. The roller coaster of emotions I’ve experienced in the last week is exhausting. One minute I’m furious with him and the next my heart is aching for him, to be close to him, to just hear his voice again.

  If I had known that asking to go to the wedding with him would have led to this craziness, I would have never done it. I could have never foreseen the repercussions of asking. Again, I just wish that if he has decided to end it, he would have the courtesy to tell me. This is what is burning me up more than anything. The thought of him having found someone else is running a very close second.

  When the clock finally hits five, I gather my things into my bag. Worthless today, that’s what I’ve been. In fact, being worthless today has made me actually a tad thankful to still have Tina. As little as she seems to do correctly if I had a new paralegal, I would be training her this week. I’m thankful for a familiar face who knows me well enough to know to stay away from me when I get in this kind of mood.

  As I walk out of my office, I glance down at Tina who has a pained look on her face. I can tell she’s not sure what to say to me. She probably thinks I’m a time bomb ticking waiting to go off and she means not to be the trigger.

  “Have a good night,” I mumble as I walk towards the elevator.

  She quickly replies, “You, too, Ms. Johnson.”

  I do want to have a good night, but that is so dependent on a certain someone who won’t return my phone calls. It’s too early to go to Joe’s. I know I said I needed to stop the whole stalker thing, but I decide I’ll drive by Bradley’s office just to see if he’s there. He’s not.

  Curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide to go to his place. If he’s there, I’m just going to go to the door and bang on it until he answers.

  A wave of relief floods me when I see that silver Nissan in his parking spot. I whip my car into the closest space available and practically run to the elevators. I can feel my stomach starting to churn. My lack of appetite means there is no food to vomit, which is a good thing. My body is warming, and I can feel the blush coming over my skin.

  I knock when I reach his door and wait. Nothing. I knock harder. Nothing. I put my ear up to the door to see if I can hear anything. I don’t understand why his car would be here, but he wouldn’t be here or at work.

  “Bradley, please talk to me,” I plead to the door. I’m unable to control my sob as tears trickle down my cheek. I’m leaning into the door because I want so badly to be close to him. My hand is on the door like it should be on his chest. I feel my knees getting weak. My heart is breaking. “Please.” I can barely talk through my sobs. “I need to talk to you, please, Bradley.”

  I slide down his door and sit on the floor, falling apart in total despair. I have never been so emotionally attached, so vulnerable, and so hurt. I have one of those out of body moments where I can see myself sitting on the floor in front of an apartment of a guy who has crushed me. It’s like I’m not myself, but a bystander watching this pathetic girl. I don’t like what I see, weakness. I hate that I’ve let him do this to me. Get yourself together, Veronica Johnson. Now.

  Wiping my tears with my fists, I climb up to unsteady feet. I touch the door, knowing it’s the last time. I’m done. I can’t do this. I can’t beg for him. No, I won’t.

  Walking back to the car, I realize that I deserve better than this, better than Bradley Banks. Who cares how successful, sexy, and good in bed he is? I got a very good taste over the weekend of what I do deserve. I was stupid to let Ian drive out of my life Saturday. He was exactly what I needed. Like a precious gift placed in my life at the exact right time. The thought of him is the only thing that has made me happy all day.

  I open my car door. I didn’t even lock it, which is very unlike me. I don’t even know who I am these days. My world has been rocked to the core. I slump into the seat, and stare blankly at the steering wheel pondering what to do.

  Do I go to Joe’s tonight? Do I just go home and soak in a warm bath, eat ice cream, and wallow in this depression? Do I call Ian? He did leave his number for me. The next thought brings a smile to my face. Do I call Ian and ask him to meet me at Joe’s? My voice is hoarse from my crying as I laugh out loud at the vision of Bradley seeing me with another man. What better way to show him what he’s missing than for him to see me with someone else?

  Chapter 9

  I grab my phone from my purse, swipe to unlock the touch pad, and search for the number that Ian programmed into my phone Saturday. I smile as I think back to his sweet note but also at the thought of him making all this pain and anguish disappear with that sexy husky voice of his.

  A gush of confidence overtakes my otherwise gloomy demeanor as I wait for him to answer. It only rings twice before I am relieved to hear his voice, “Hey, pretty girl.”

  His voice alone is enticing and causes a radiating pang to travel from my ear to places that yearn for him to fill again. Add the sweetness factor, and I practically melt in the seat of my Mercedes…in Bradley’s parking lot. Internally, I rejoice at the irony of this situation and how far I’ve come from a week ago. A week ago when my entire life revolved around Bradley, a man who at best, was my man whore. I gave so much of me to him and got nothing but fantastic sex in return.

  Yet, in such a short span of one week, I’ve been shown that I can have it all: great sex, a sweet man, and most of all, someone who will take care of me. I don’t think I realized how badly I needed that until Ian.

  “Veronica, are you there?”

  How is it that he has a way of making me so speechless? “Hey.”

  “Everything okay?” He sounds concerned. Why does this still surprise me that he is caring? I shrug realizing it’s that my subconscious is thinking maybe it’s all too good to be true.

  I swallow as I let the words sput
ter from my mouth, “I was gonna see if you had plans tonight.”

  “I have soccer practice from seven to nine.”

  “Oh. Who do you play soccer for?” That explains his body.

  “I’m on scholarship with Georgia Tech,” he breathes into the phone.

  The age gap between us briefly bothers me. I knew that he was younger than Bradley, but I didn’t expect him to be younger than me. Honestly, I don’t really care how old he is. He already strikes me as more mature than Bradley, and I barely know him. What I do know is that I will do anything to see him again. “What’s your last name?”

  Ian laughs. “Hmm, not the reaction I expected, but okay. Sanders.” His voice drops, and I can only imagine that if he were standing in front of me the effect he’d be having on me with those hooded eyes and his light, sweet touches. “You? You’re Veronica what?”

  “What reaction did you expect?” There is a pause. Was I supposed to act impressed that he’s still in college, or maybe I was supposed to stroke his ego about the soccer scholarship? Who knows? I quickly add, “And it’s Johnson.”

  He exhales into the phone, “I don’t know what kind of reaction I was expecting. I don’t have plans after practice. Do you still want to get together?”

  “Yes, do you want to meet at Joe’s, say nine?”

  “Well. I’m not sure Joe’s is the best place. How are you feeling by the way?”

  I furrow my brows, confused as to what the problem would be with Joe’s? “My cough is better, but no appetite still.”

  “Good. What about I meet you at your house after practice? You need to eat. I could bring you some soup or something.”

  “That’s a long way for you to have to come. I’ll be fine.”