by Pamela Morsi
“What are you talking about?”
“It seemed to me that what attracted you, generally, and what attracted you away from me, specifically, was the type of selfish jerk of a guy who would treat you like he didn’t give a damn.”
Mazy could hardly deny her past history.
“So I decided to be that guy,” Eli explained. “I got on the internet and read all these complaints about these bad boys that women always fall for, and then I set out to emulate them.”
Mazy couldn’t quite take it in.
“I thought if I was the same nice guy who treated you kindly, you would throw me away like you did before,” he said. “So all of the things I said, all of the things I did, were meant to be mean and hurtful and unkind, by design. I was playing so hard-to-get that I was sure you would have to get me.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“It’s true,” Eli said. “I love sleeping with you in my bed. I don’t ever want you to go home. I don’t expect you to cook for me or clean my own house. I love having sex with you. But I love talking to you, too. And dancing with you. And watching old movies. And just being together. I’m not interested in other women. And I wouldn’t walk out on a stray possum at a roadhouse. All of those mean, nasty things—I did them on purpose. It was all part of the flashy veneer that was supposed to make you desperate to be with me. I thought that if I could be the jerk you fell for, that I could keep you from falling in love with some real jerk. And finally make my own dreams of being with you come true.”
Mazy was stunned. Before she could even think about how to respond, she reached out and slapped his face.
The bright red mark that blossomed on his cheek shocked her.
“Oh, wow,” she said. She stepped back, stumbling into a work stool and sitting down quickly, as if she thought she might not be able to stand.
Eli put a hand on his cheek and gave a strange chuckle. “I’ve been secretly wishing that you would deck me for a couple of months now. The reality turns out not to be nearly as pleasant as the fantasy.”
“I didn’t know I was going to hit you,” she said.
“It’s okay. I earned it.”
They stared at each other across an expanse of floor in a very long minute of silence.
“So you really haven’t turned into...into a creep?”
“No. Or at least not completely,” Eli answered. “I have to admit that I’ve learned some important lessons. I think I’ve learned that it is possible to be too nice. And that sometimes a guy has to stand up for himself.”
He sat down on the stool opposite her.
“I blamed you, Mazy, for those times that you left me,” Eli said. “I thought it was all about you and your...your defects that kept us apart. You didn’t respect me and I thought that was a mistake in you.”
“It was,” she told him.
Eli shook his head. “You didn’t respect me because I didn’t demand respect. I wanted to be with you. I wanted you to love me. But I didn’t respect myself enough to believe that you could do that. So I always let you call the shots, decide what we would do and when. I let you be the senior partner in our relationship.”
“Wait! That’s my M.O.,” Mazy said. “That’s what I always do.”
“It looks like we have more in common than we thought.”
“But not now,” Mazy said. “I’ve changed. And I am changing. I told you that, but you didn’t believe people could change.”
Eli was silent for a moment. “I said that in the heat of an argument,” he clarified. “And that wasn’t about you, Mazy. It was about Driscoll.”
“Driscoll?”
“I was afraid that you thought that he had changed.”
“I hoped that he had,” Mazy said. “But I haven’t seen any evidence of it.”
“I was afraid of you two working together every day. You told me that you didn’t come back here to get back with him. But I was afraid that you might.”
“No, that’s not going to happen.”
“Not even if he and Tru...work out their situation?”
“You’re thinking we might end up as some kind of happy family?”
“Well, I did worry about that until Driscoll told me about the trouble you got into in Wilmington. He said he was going to use it against you in court. That didn’t sound like happy family material.”
“It’s not,” she said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he told you. I think he sees you as some kind of a threat.”
“It turns out I am,” Eli said. “Part of my newfound bad-boy status allowed me a couple of very satisfying punches to that guy’s face.”
Mazy’s jaw dropped open. “Are you telling me that you are the door he ran into?”
“Solid hardwood,” he answered.
Mazy laughed. “I love it.”
Eli smiled, as well, but his tone was still serious.
“Are you worried about what might come out in court?”
“It will never go to court,” she said. “I’ve already told him he and Tru can be together as often as they like.”
“You don’t care?”
“My feelings don’t enter into it,” Mazy said. “It’s about Tru and his biological father. Tru has to decide what that means to him. I’ve raised him and I love him. Now I have to trust him.”
“You’re a pretty amazing mom,” Eli said.
Mazy shrugged. “I’ve had a pretty spectacular example.”
Eli nodded. “We were very lucky,” he said.
“We still are.” She got up from the stool and walked the three paces that separated her from Eli. She wrapped her arms around his neck and said, “I feel lucky to be all alone here with what I believe to be a very nice guy. It could be totally perfect if he would kiss me.”
48
Confessing to Mazy was like a weight off his shoulders. Eli was done with being the bad boyfriend. He had learned from the experience that he needed to be accepted on his own terms.
Having her walk into his embrace was the sort of terms he could get his arms around. He’d told himself when he’d decided to bring her to the shop that he was telling the truth with no hope or agenda. He was out of the manipulation business. If she could forgive him, that was good. If she couldn’t, then so be it.
Slapping his face was of the so-be-it variety.
“It could be totally perfect if you would kiss me.”
Even the nicest guy in the world couldn’t resist an invitation like that.
Eli turned his head slightly and lowered his mouth on hers. Her lips were so soft and the taste of her was both familiar and sweet. The warmth of those curves he knew so well pressed against him. And the scent that was uniquely her essence enveloped him.
He both heard and felt the murmur of pleasure at the back of her throat.
“I’ve missed this,” she confessed in the instant their lips parted.
Eli had missed it, too. So much so that at the moment he was unwilling to waste his lips and his tongue on anything as unneeded as speech. He deepened the kiss. Spreading his knees he pulled her closer to him, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other on her waist as he drew her to his chest.
She felt so perfect in his arms. She was not perfect. He was not perfect. But together, they were perfection.
He heard a moan of pleasure. Eli wasn’t sure if it came from her or from him.
With all the layers of clothes that separated them, there was nothing sexual about their touch, but the rightness of it, the real genuine oneness, made it seem far more intimate.
When their mouths parted, he ran little pecks along the line of her jaw and down her throat. He loved the sound of how her breath caught. He reached her collarbone, but was unwilling to give up his journey.
“L
et’s get this sweater off,” he suggested.
Eli didn’t have to ask twice. She stepped back and jerked the offending knit over her head, casting it off on the floor.
“The blouse, too?” she asked.
Worrying his voice might fail him, Eli nodded. He watched her hurriedly releasing the buttons. The last one resisted. He reached forward, thinking he would help her fumbling fingers. Instead, he ripped it open. The button went flying and the blouse slipped off her shoulders onto the floor.
“Pretty,” he said of the lacy bra that hinted at what was beneath it.
Mazy reached behind her in one fluid motion and released the hooks and discarded it.
“Prettier,” he told her.
She came back to his arms, but he stood and carried her to sit on the edge of his workbench. He seated himself on the stool, which meant her breasts were exactly at the level of his mouth. Such an opportunity should never be passed up.
Eli tried to take his time. It had been a long three weeks, but they were gorgeous breasts and deserved all the attention he wanted to lavish upon them.
Mazy, however, was squirming. He knew exactly what she was feeling.
He rose to his feet and with two hands slid her skirt up to her waist. When he brought his hands back down, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her panties.
“Lay back, Mazy,” he told her. “I know what I want for dessert.”
He spread her wide before him and ran his tongue from her knee along the inside of her thigh before indulging his sweet tooth. The sounds she made were like music to his ears, even when she got so loud he had to cover her mouth with his hand.
When she was still quivering with release, he climbed up on the workbench himself. He was nearly hard enough to hammer nails, but when he slid inside her hot, throbbing womanness, he knew he was home.
It was the last conscious thought he had before sheer mindless sexual need took precedence over all other natural inclinations, and their movements, both effortlessly timed and increasing frantic, drove them both to a peak of physical pleasure.
There was an instant that was both relief and joy, almost painful and almost enough to laugh aloud, before Eli momentarily collapsed against her.
He was heavy and she was small. He tried to roll his weight off her. But she held him fast.
“Don’t go yet,” she whispered. “It feels so good to have you inside me.”
It took him a minute to capture his breath before he answered. “If you’ll let me, Mazy, I will be inside you every day for the rest of our lives.”
She gave a murmur of satisfaction. “I like the sound of that,” she said.
He liked the sound of it, too.
They lay there stretched out across his workbench, connected.
Eli was still mostly dressed. Mazy was wearing her skirt and her shoes. They were both grinning like idiots. It was a crazy, imperfect, romantic fantasy. And they both reveled in it.
Finally he eased over to his side, but pulled her with him to keep them close. They couldn’t stop looking into each other’s eyes. They couldn’t stop smiling.
“I thought you didn’t have sex in this workshop,” she said.
“I don’t,” he assured her. “I only make love.”
“You indicated before that thank-you blow jobs were not allowed, but what you did comes pretty close to qualifying.”
“I’m getting flexible on that rule,” he said.
“Very flexible,” she agreed.
“And what happened to the very nice guy who would never forget to use a condom?”
“Oh, crap,” he said.
“Oh, crap indeed.”
“I swear, Mazy, I didn’t do it on purpose. I guess even nice guys can make mistakes.”
“I’d say this particular nice guy has been making a lot of mistakes lately.”
“Will you forgive me?”
“I do forgive you,” Mazy said. “Because I believe that you can change.”
“Will you marry me?” As soon as he’d said it, he knew it was crazy. But it was honest and it was in his heart. And he’d promised to give that to her always.
The smile that had so pleased him faltered. A moment passed in such total silence, Eli could hear their hearts beating.
“Maybe,” she told him finally.
“Maybe?”
“The thing about change,” she said, “is that it’s not instant. It’s not poof! I’m all different now. It takes time to achieve and time to believe. I love you, Eli. If you love me, I need you to give me that time.”
Five Years Later
The little office on Main Street got a lot of foot traffic. Perhaps because it was next door to Local Grind, the most popular meeting place in town. The glass on the window announced it to be the Brandt Mountain Credit Counseling Service. Inside, Mazy sat at her desk facing Mildred Taylor and a mess of freshly cleaned brook trout in a giant plastic bag.
“Thank you so much. This will make a lovely dinner for us. But you don’t owe me anything, Mrs. Taylor,” Mazy explained, not for the first time. “The credit card companies pay me to help people get back on track financially. It’s my job.”
Mrs. Taylor shook her head. “You just don’t know what you’ve done for us,” she said. “I swear, Gus and I were at our wit’s end. Couldn’t sleep, fighting all the time. We couldn’t see a way out. We want to show you how much it means to us.”
“Well, the best way to do that,” Mazy said, “is to stick to the budget. If something comes up—and it will, emergencies happen—don’t try to keep it a secret. Come see me and we’ll figure out a way. Time and determination. That’s what it takes.”
Mrs. Taylor nodded. “Every time we make a payment, we feel a little stronger,” she said.
Mazy was very glad to hear it.
The business was not exactly what she had thought she wanted for her life. But she’d discovered that she had a real talent for helping people out of trouble. And in a town where her reputation had always been up for discussion, she had earned for herself an ample measure of respect and success.
After Mrs. Taylor left, Mazy was pulling up the stats on the credit report of a new client when a familiar truck parked in front of her door.
She clicked off her screen and waited as a pair of very short legs came running across the sidewalk and a pair of very small hands turned the knob on her door. Like a surge of energy, Jonah Latham burst into the room.
“Mom, Twoo is coming home!”
“He is?”
The curly head nodded excitedly. “He phoned Daddy and he’ll be here in nine sleeps. Only nine sleeps!”
“Inside voice,” Mazy cautioned.
“Nine sleeps,” he repeated only slightly above a whisper.
“That’s really good news,” she agreed.
The door opened again and Eli came inside. “I take it you’ve been notified,” he said. “He’s like our personal town crier.”
“I talked to him, too,” Jonah continued. “He misses me.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s a fish.”
“Is it dead?”
“Well, actually, yes. We’re going to eat it for dinner.”
“Oh, okay. Can I go to Miss Nina’s? She might have a cookie for me if I go there? Can I?”
Nina Garvey’s bakery next door was very likely to have a cookie and Nina was even more likely to give one to Jonah.
“Just one,” Mazy said, holding up her index finger in illustration. “One.”
“One,” Jonah repeated before racing around his father and tearing out the front.
Eli stepped back out onto the sidewalk to watch the little boy safely go inside the shop next door. Then he came back
in to join Mazy, taking one of the client seats.
“Nice fish,” he said.
“So why does Jonah get to talk to Tru, and Eli get to talk to Tru, but Mom, the actual woman who went through hours of labor to bring him into the world, doesn’t get to talk to Tru?” she asked.
Eli shrugged. “It wasn’t a social call. Jonah only got to talk because he begged.”
“Not a social call? What kind of call was it?”
“Business.”
“Business?”
“Yeah,” Eli answered. “He got offered a summer job up in Maine. Before he agreed, he wanted to find out if maybe there was some work closer to home.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said good woodworkers are always in demand. Now Latham Furniture probably can’t pay him as well as they could in New England, but that we’d let him live for free.”
“That sounds good.”
“Of course, he still got some negotiating in.”
“What kind?”
“He wants to open the basement apartment and live there over the summer.”
“And you agreed to that?”
“Are you worried about wild parties and loose women? This is Tru we’re talking about. Such a nice guy. Everybody says so.”
“Yeah, well, we know where that can lead.”
Eli raised his eyebrows in a comical attempt at leering.
“I told him his mom would be giving the final answer on living arrangements,” he said. “I brought you something.” Eli pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “It came in today’s mail.”
Mazy took it curiously from his hand. When she saw the return address her eyes widened.
She picked up her letter opener from the desk and carefully sliced it open. She took at deep breath and slowly let it out before reading it aloud.
“‘Notice from the State of North Carolina General Court of Justice Restitution. Enclosed the fulfilled Disposition of Deferred Prosecution/Dismissal.’”
She looked over at Eli and he smiled. “Mazy, you have paid your debt to society...literally.”
She laughed.
