by Anna Paige
“He who? Who are you talking about?” And who had he wanted her to get rid of? So many questions...
“Derek.” The name rolled off her tongue with equal parts hatred and anguish. “He showed up at the restaurant a few days ago. I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years. Shocked the shit out of me, if you want to know the truth. I didn’t know what to do. Still don’t. All I know is that looking up and seeing him standing there was like being hit by a train. The first shock nearly knocked me off my feet and then the pain just kept coming, wave after wave. He stood there talking to me, and I could barely hear a thing he said over the roaring in my ears. Eventually he left but not before he pulled me in for a hug like we were old friends. I didn’t register much of the conversation but I damn sure heard the slow inhale of him smelling my hair. Just like he used to before. And I wanted to shove him away but it was like I was paralyzed.” She glanced at me absently. “I’ve felt that way for days now. Paralyzed.”
We were quiet for a while, each processing everything on our own. Finally, I touched her hand. “You still love him.”
Her head spun toward me, shocked. “No. Not even a little. Anything I felt for him back then faded out a long time ago. It isn’t him. It’s what seeing him reminded me of. It’s who he sees when he looks at me, a girl I haven’t been since college. I barely remember that girl and I’d rather keep it that way.”
“Then tell him to piss off. You’re under no obligation to see him.” If she didn’t want to do it herself, I would gladly volunteer.
She chuckled miserably. “Yes, I am. The restaurant was chosen to be featured in a popular travel magazine as one of the top D.C. restaurants. There’s going to be a huge spread on it. Guess who they sent to write the article?”
“Shit.” I couldn’t come up with anything else. Shit pretty much covered it.
“Exactly.” She nodded emphatically, swaying again before righting herself. “So I have to play nice at least until the article is written and submitted or he could sink the whole thing. Dammit. He told me he’d kept tabs on my success and jumped at the chance to do the feature piece. Now I’m stuck dealing with him until the whole thing is over. He and the travel photographer will be in the area for the next few weeks working on the D.C. issue and he plans to save Canary for last.” Canary was the name of Talia’s restaurant, I knew this because Ali raved about the place often, though I’d never had the opportunity to go. “That way, he’ll get to drag this out and make me crazy for as long as possible.”
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding work?”
She peered into her now empty glass, a bewildered look on her face as if she wasn’t sure where the booze kept disappearing to. I’d have laughed if her next words hadn’t been cloaked in such misery. “He could pop up any time he wants and I can’t go back until I figure out a way to deal with him. I miss the restaurant so much. I love my job and I kind of hate him for taking the joy out of it. You know?”
She didn’t seem to be expecting an answer, so instead I reached over and snared her glass with a sympathetic nod, and went to pour us another round.
I divided the last of the Scotch between our two glasses and glanced up just as Talia shuffled from the love seat to the couch. She looked over as I tossed the empty bottle in the trash and it collided with another empty that had been thrown out before my arrival. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Got myself a little collection in that cabinet above the fridge. Help yourself.” She sat on the edge of the couch, brushing tiny pieces of shredded paper from her shirt before stretching out lengthwise on the cushions. “I’m just going to get comfortable while you finish pouring the drinks.”
I give her ten minutes. She’s gonna be out like a light.
I returned to the living room and placed her glass on the coffee table in front of the couch, resuming my place on the adjacent love seat.
She propped herself on an elbow and took a deep swallow of the smooth whiskey, looking up at me with a small smile. “So, I’ve spilled my guts just like you wanted. I think it’s your turn to talk. What’s your story?”
I shook my head, needing time but also needing to remember my purpose here. “That will have to wait for a few minutes. We still need to check in with Ali. I left my phone downstairs in the car, so it’s up to you.”
She motioned to the phone she’d left beside the love seat. “Will you send her a text for me? I’m not ready to talk to anyone yet. Tell her you’re using my phone and that I’m already asleep. That’ll buy me some time. Please?” She sounded so small and weary.
“You’re talking to me. I guess that’s enough for one night, huh?”
She murmured something agreeable and relaxed into the couch, giving me the lock code for her phone so I could text her friend.
Me: Ali, this is Spencer. I’m with Talia and she’s okay. Her phone went for a swim and is just now drying out. Battery needs charging, so give her until morning. She’s dozing off right now but promised to call you tomorrow. Okay?
Her answer was immediate.
Ali: Dozing, my ass. I know her better than that. If she’s falling asleep with company in the apartment, she’s drunk.
Me: A little bit. Don’t worry. I’m looking after her.
Ali: You staying until morning?
I glanced over at Talia, who was propped up again, sipping from her glass and ignoring the dings coming from her phone as I conversed with Ali. She was still hurting but she was talking, so I couldn’t just leave her alone.
Me: I think I should. I’ll be sure you hear from her first thing. Okay? Stop worrying and get some sleep.
Ali: I’ll always worry but I feel better with you there. Thank you, Spencer. I owe you one.
Me: Happy to help. Good night.
Ali: Night.
I turned off the phone and set about finding a charger. There was one behind the end table near Talia’s head, so I knelt down near the couch and grabbed the cord, plugging it into the phone and leaving the phone there on the table.
When I started to stand, Talia’s hand skimmed my arm, grasping my hand as I rose. She smiled softly, eyes shining and cheeks rosy from the alcohol. “Thank you.”
I squeezed her hand and returned her smile. “You’re very welcome.”
We stayed like that for a beat. Our hands clasped together, eyes locked, hearts pounding—at least mine was. After a moment, her grip loosened and her hand fell from mine as she reached for her glass. She sat all the way up this time instead of just propping on an elbow, patting the cushion beside her. “Sit. I’m still waiting for you to tell me your story. I told you mine. Only fair, right?”
I held up a finger and snagged her glass, heading off to the kitchen to get us both a refill. I’d sure as hell need it.
When I returned, I handed back her Scotch and took a seat beside her on the couch. After a deep swallow of the fiery liquid, I asked, “I’ve been told recently that I have a boring life and work too much. So, tell me what it is you want to know and I’ll see how long it takes to put you to sleep.”
She snickered, not quite a laugh but a vast improvement to her sullen mood. “There’s nothing wrong with working a lot if you’re doing something you enjoy.”
“Exactly. Thank you.” I nodded emphatically, giving myself a bit of a head rush. How many drinks had I had? No matter, at least she understood where I was coming from. “Clay thinks I need to get away from work for a while,” I scoffed with annoyance. “He doesn’t get how I could possibly enjoy what I do, so he thinks it’s a bad thing that I’m at the office so much.”
“I totally get that. Gina and some of the staff tell me I hover too much at the restaurant. They think I’m a control freak, like I don’t trust them to run the place without me there.” She snorted softly. “Guess I showed their asses this week, huh?”
“Extenuating circumstances,” I told her with a smile. “You’ll be back to control freak mode in no time.”
She bumped my shoulder with hers. “Hey. I’m no more a control
freak than you are. I just love my job and the people and the noise and the food.” She raised a brow, coming fully to her perky self for a moment. “The food is so good it will make your toes curl.”
My toes hadn’t curled since... shit... what month was it? I was simultaneously hungry and aroused. The heat of her body beside me on the couch didn’t help. On the love seat, she’d been leaned as far away as possible, but here we were so close that our legs touched from hip to knee. I’d been catching hints of her fragrance all evening, and being this close made it hard to ignore. She smelled of lavender and jasmine, light and inviting. I could understand why her ex got caught smelling her hair. I’d been breathing more deeply from the moment I sat down next to her.
On top of that, my stomach decided to once again make its annoyance known. It emitted a rolling growl that made Talia chuckle.
I reached toward the table and snagged a handful of carrots from the forgotten veggie tray, passing a few to her with a wink. “Guess that means you’ve piqued my curiosity,” I joked, crunching on my snack.
“I need to go in tomorrow morning before we open to get something. You’re welcome to come and I’ll make you breakfast. How does that sound?”
I raised a brow, intrigued. “So you have no objection to me staying the night?”
She finished the last of her carrots and waved me off when I reached to get her a few more. “I figured Ali already made you promise to stay, so the least I can do is make you breakfast. Besides, feeding people is kind of my thing.” She shrugged, as though to say it was inevitable. “It’s what I do.” And she truly loved what she did.
“Then I look forward to it. Thank you.”
“No. Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed company until you started pounding on my door.” She pulled her legs up onto the couch beside her and leaned against me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
I turned toward her and discovered a couple of bits of paper caught in her hair. I reached out and retrieved them, leaving them in my open palm as I asked, “So, how did this happen? Your paper shredder possessed or something?”
She shook her head slowly, taking the paper from my palm and rubbing the pieces together between her thumb and index finger. “Derek came bearing gifts. He said his mother stumbled on some old pictures of the two of us in some box in her attic. He thought I might like to have them, said they were too beautiful to be kept boxed up.” Her voice dripped with hostility. “I didn’t know how to react, so I took them but when I got home I couldn’t stand it anymore. They had to go.”
“Why? Did you have a bad 80s hair cut or something?” I was trying to make a joke but she must have missed it.
“The girl in those pictures wasn’t me. Not anymore. It was just another way for him to remind me who he expected me to be. Instead of the pictures, now I was the one in the box.” She sat forward and retrieved her drink from the coffee table before settling back into my side. She took a sip and leaned her head onto my shoulder with a long exhale. “It was childish to tear them up, huh?”
“Not at all. It sounds to me like you looked at those pictures and saw something untrue, so you got rid of them. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Some of her hair was clinging to my beard, tickling my face as I spoke. I gently swept it away, smoothing it onto my shirt. “Besides, I have it on good authority that a little destruction can be therapeutic. Clay has been smashing and breaking his way through most of his life and it seems to work for him.”
She nodded. “And now he has Ali so he doesn’t need the destruction as much anymore.” There was a smile in her voice when she continued. “I’m glad they found each other. I thought Ali had given up, like me.”
“I thought the same about Clay,” I told her. “Funny how things turn out. I never would have imagined I’d be listening to Clay go on about wedding plans. He was always so against the idea. When I asked him to be best man at my wedding, he gave me hell for a solid month.”
Talia sat up suddenly and looked at me with wide eyes. “You’re married? No one ever mentioned that.”
I shrugged. “Nothing much to tell anymore. I’ve been divorced for a couple of years now and it’s just something no one brings up. Water under the bridge.” More like fucking battery acid but still...
She resumed her position but kept her head up, studying me. “The lose-lose situation you mentioned?”
I nodded, suddenly needing a big gulp of my drink.
When I didn’t elaborate, she leaned her head back onto my shoulder and patted my hand sweetly. “At least Clay and Ali are headed for a win-win. If it’s possible for anyone, it’s them.”
“You don’t think it will happen for you?” I didn’t mean to ask, it just sort of came out.
“Nope. And I’m fine with that. What about you?”
“I don’t think it’s in the cards for me. But that’s okay. I’m like you. I’m just fine with the way things are.”
She let out a slow exhale, sounding sleepy. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She snuggled in tighter against me, arms crossed around her like she was chilly.
“There’s no fault in wanting to stand on your own,” I told her softly as I reached for the throw blanket on the couch behind our heads, pulling it down over her.
Her voice was soft and dreamy when she replied. “Yeah, but it sure is lonely sometimes.”
I had no response to that. What she said was true but not something I’d easily admit. We sat there quietly for a while until her slow even breathing indicated that she’d drifted off.
I tried to find a way to move so that she could stretch out but only ended up jostling her. In her sleepy state, she slumped down and ended up using my thigh as a pillow, sighing contentedly in her sleep and looking too peaceful for me to attempt to move again. Instead I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on the coffee table.
With Talia laying on my left leg, I draped my left arm over the back of the couch and slumped until I was as comfortable as I could manage.
She murmured softly in her sleep but I couldn’t make out the words. Eventually, she spoke no more and I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of her soft breathing until sleep overtook me.
Talia
I CAME AWAKE slowly, a rhythmic thumping noise irritating me out of my rest.
What the hell is that sound?
I began to sit up and sucked in a hissing breath. Shit. I put a hand to my temple and realized the noise I’d heard had been coming from inside my head.
Jeez.
How much did I drink?
I dared to crack one eye open and winced at the bright light streaming through my living room windows.
Lovely, Talia. You didn’t even make it to your bed to pass out. Just keeps getting classier and classier. Too bad Derek can’t see you like this. Maybe he’d stop sniffing around.
With much effort and searing pain shooting through my skull, I stood and made my way to the kitchen. I filled a tall glass from the tap and gulped it down before refilling and emptying it a second time. Still squinting like a mole, I stumbled to the bathroom to empty my near-bursting bladder and attempt to scrub away the lingering alcohol smell.
The bottle I’d seen in the kitchen was much more full than I remembered, meaning I’d finished the other one and started in on another. It was a wonder I wasn’t head down in the toilet bowl this morning. I’d damn sure drank enough. The fact that my stomach seemed relatively unfazed was nothing short of a miracle.
Now if only my head would follow suit.
After my shower, I would take just enough aspirin to avoid overdose and try to get some food into my stomach. Maybe take a nap and hope the pain would vanish while I slept.
I’d had the strangest dreams last night. Since Derek’s appearance, I’d been tormented by dreams of things I desperately wanted to forget, images of loss and betrayal waiting just behind my closed lids, taking every opportunity to punish me all over again.
Last night, though, I’d dre
amed of Spencer Erickson. It was bizarre. I hadn’t thought about him for months. Not since things settled down after we nearly lost Ali in the fire that destroyed Clay’s family home. Of course, I’d seen Spencer when we all sneaked back to Denson to help Clay set up his proposal. Nearly ten of us gathered to string thousands of lights onto the willow tree by the lake at Clay’s property. It had taken us all day, but we’d been all smiles and optimism, knowing what was going to transpire there that evening. Even I was touched by the idea of their happily ever after, and that’s a hard sell for someone like me.
Spencer had been personable as always, and we’d chatted as we worked, but once the task was finished, we didn’t see one another or speak again. No reason to.
Okay, maybe I thought about him sometimes. How could I not? I was intentionally single, but shit, I wasn’t blind and he was absolutely gorgeous. Tall and muscular, but not overly so. Dark brown hair that was just half a shade from being black, and eyes to match. They were so dark it was hypnotic. He’d been clean shaven each time I’d seen him, but in my dream last night, he’d had a beard. It had been just long enough to be sexy, not so long that it looked unkempt. I had a fleeting memory of my hair getting snared in it.
As I stood in the shower, letting the steamy water run through my hair, I imagined what it would be like to have his beard scraping over my skin. God, in all the fantasies I’d ever had about him—and there had been a shamefully high number of those—it had never occurred to me to envision facial hair.
I let my hands wander slowly down my neck and across my collarbone as I pictured the light scratching of his beard as he made his way to the valley between my breasts. Skimming his tongue across my skin, nuzzling the underside of my breast before taking the nipple into his mouth... would he nibble gently or be more aggressive?
My fingertips fluttered across my abdomen, moving downward as I envisioned Spencer kneeling before me in the shower, his tongue sweeping across his full lips in anticipation of tasting me.
