The Man Next Door (An Older Man / Younger Woman Romance)

by Mia Madison

  “Thanks, Brandon,” I said, meaning it. All my anger was gone, not an ounce of it was left, and I smiled up at the man I’d known for years as I slid my hand into the arm of the man who I’d only just met but who meant more to me than I ever knew someone could.

  Brandon left, then, without another word, giving a nod to Ander before he went. That’s when Ander turned to me and took my face in his hands. “You okay?” he asked.

  Looking up at him, I forgot about where we were or why we were there. “I’m great,” I said, collecting one of his hands in mine so that I could bring it to my lips and kiss it. “I have never been better. I just hope he moves on already. But that went better than expected.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ander

  By the time I got Constance home, she had her shoes off and was still barely able to walk a straight line. As soon as she got her front door open, I scooped her into my arms and carried her up the stairs. Once we got to her bedroom, I got her out of her dress and straddled her to give her a long, overdue massage.

  “Ohhhhh…” she moaned into the bed. “This is amazing.”

  “You’re amazing. Did I tell you that I overheard a reporter saying that it was a bold collection?” I didn’t know much about art critics, but I was pretty sure that “bold” was generally considered high praise.

  “You did?” she asked, suddenly energized. “Who?”

  “I don’t know his name. He was kind of short with a bit of a comb-over.”

  Constance sucked in air and managed to twist under me so that their hips were down but her shoulders were turned enough that she could look up at me. “The critic from the Chicago Tribune?” Her eyes were huge, and her normally pink cheeks were flushed red.

  “I guess…” I had no clue.

  “Yes!” Constance fist pumped the air and then bucked her hips under me like she was determined to dance with glee even though she was lying down, pinned under me. I got off to give her more room, but that only resulted in her getting up and tackling me. Before I knew it, I was on my back and she was sitting astride me, bouncing up and down.

  “Honey, you keep doing that and you’re going to be bouncing up and down on a big, sticky wet spot,” I laughed, only half joking.

  Constance stopped bouncing and came down for a kiss instead. She left my lips tingling with her heat by the time she sat up again. “You were amazing tonight,” she said, slapping my chest. “The way you were with Dad and my ex…” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry about Brandon. He’s… We were complicated.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, not one little bit, and my instant tension must have registered her with her because she quickly added, “But he’s the past. Even before you, I’d decided we were done. I need you to know that.”

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief, not sure why it was that I was feeling like everything was okay. We still had another hurtle to jump, if we were going to jump it at all. I was sleeping with my one-time best friend’s daughter. That was breaking some major bro code in any language or culture. I had stepped way, way, way over the line. True, I hadn’t known I was sleeping with my one-time best friend’s daughter, but I wasn’t sure he’d see that as an excuse.

  I sat up, picking Constance up as I did and setting her to the side. “Baby, we’ve got to talk.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice suddenly small and uncertain. It was a sound that made me want to hit my forehead against the wall so that I’d never have to hear it again, but there was no way around it. There were things that needed to be said.

  “Do you remember that friend I told you about when we first met, the one who had gotten sick?”

  “Yeah…” I saw the hesitation in her eyes. “Was that you… were you talking about yourself? Are you sick again?” She reached for my hand and grasped it tight.

  “No baby,” I reassured her, giving her a weak smile. There was no helping it. There was no easy way to say it. I had to dive straight in. “Baby, that friend was your dad. He and I, we were best friends back in high school.”

  Constance’s face lit with delight. Letting go of my hand, she bounced up onto her knees. “See! I knew you two would get along. This is great!” She watched my face with anticipation, as if waiting for me to join in the celebration, but when I didn’t, she sat back down. “I don’t get it. Why is this a problem?”

  “Honey,” I said exasperated, “Men don’t sleep with their best friend’s daughter! If you were my daughter and some guy my age was putting his hands on you, I’d have him laid out flat. I’d break his fucking nose.” I said it, and I meant every word except that I was leaving out the part that instead of hitting him with my hand, I’d probably hit him with a sledgehammer.

  “I’m a grown woman and you’re a good man.” She said, pouting, and the sight of her in contrast to her words made me want to laugh, but I didn’t.

  “Sweetie, you are a grown woman, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m slipping the sausage in my best friend’s little girl.”

  Constance’s face contorted as her eyes looked up and to the left. “Wait… When I was three, one of dad’s friends sent me a plushie toy. It was my favorite and I hung on to it for years. It was handyman Paddington Bear. I loved that thing.” She turned accusing eyes toward me. “Please don’t tell me you sent me that toy?”

  There wasn’t anything I could say. Nothing I had to add would make the situation better. I had sent the toy. “I had just heard he had a baby girl but I was late by a few years.”

  “Oh my God,” Constance moaned, closing her eyes as she pulled a pillow onto her chest to hug.

  Constance opened her eyes and refocused them on me. Her gaze was intense, unwavering, and unapologetic. Whatever internal conflict she’d been having had seemed resolved, leaving me in awe once again at her internal fortitude. Just like that, she seemed to have shifted back into know exactly who she was and what she wanted. “Well we can’t unpop that cherry,” she said.

  “No, no… that had already been done before I met you.” And, thank God for that. If she’d have been a virgin… I shivered as I imagined Jack running me over with an enormous steam roller, feet first. I wouldn’t have blamed him one bit.

  “I’m just saying,” she said, sitting forward, “You’ve already ‘slipped the me sausage’ as you put it. The damage is done, so there’s no reason for us not to keep on doing what we’ve been doing.” She got up on her knees, put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me onto my back before straddling me. “Besides. Like I said before, I can make my own decisions.”

  There was no denying it, she had me right where I wanted her. Now if I could just get inside those amazing, slick walls of hers.

  Maybe I was damned. Maybe Jack was going to kill me. But looking up at Constance and feeling her body next to mine, it was a death worth living for.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Constance

  While holding a bottle of wine in one hand, I watched as Ander wiped his brow with the back of his other hand. The night air was cool standing outside the front door of my dad’s house, and we’d driven there, we didn’t run, so there was no reason for Ander to be breaking out in a sweat… other than of course that he was about to out himself as the man slipping it to his best friend’s daughter.

  I felt a little sorry for Ander, I did. But more than that, I felt giddy and happy for myself. I was in love! And, I was about to introduce the man I loved to my father. It was as simple as that… for me. I understood that they would have baggage that they would have to overcome, but it was their baggage and had nothing to do with my relationship with Ander. If my best friend, Nina, had issues with Ander, I wouldn’t take those out on Ander. I’d love him and treat him just the same, and that was all I was asking of Ander to do with me.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said, slipping my hand inside of Ander’s elbow after ringing the doorbell.

  “Does Jack have a gun? He didn’t have a gun back in high school, but what about now? Does he
have one?”

  I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up out of me. Ander was so cute when he was scared, which was rare. “He does, but he keeps it in his safe and half the time he can’t remember the combo,” I reassured, at least I tried to reassure, but Ander’s expression of worry shifted over into pitiful.

  I moved to give him a hug and a kiss, but the front door opened before I managed to put my arms around him.

  Dad’s excited smile faltered as his gaze went from me to Ander and back again. “Hi, sweetie. I thought you were coming with your boyfriend. Brandon, isn’t that his name?”

  “We broke up a while ago, daddy, but this is someone else I want you to meet.” I put my hand on Ander’s arm as I glanced over at him. The poor man had a panicked smile plastered on his face.

  “Hi, Jack,” Ander said, raising a hand in greeting.

  “Yeah, yeah,” my dad said, stepping out of his house to give Ander a hearty handshake. Then he said to me, “Me and Ander go way back. Did you two just happen to show up at the same time?”

  He really wasn’t getting it. I was going to have to spell it out, and I could feel some of Ander’s nervousness rubbing off on me as butterflies took flight in my stomach. “This is my next-door neighbor, daddy. Um, and he’s my date tonight.”

  “Come again?” Dad’s hand froze mid-handshake as his attention turned to me. I gave him my best apologetic smile with a small shoulder shrug, which sent his attention back to Ander.

  Dad let go of Ander’s hand and shoved both of his own deep into his pants pockets. “One of you want to tell me what this is about?”

  I looked up at Ander and imagined that I was wearing the same deer-in-headlight look that he had. The scent of lasagna reached me, and that’s when I caught my spark of hope.

  “Dinner smells really good, daddy. Did you make it yourself?” I asked.

  “Yeah, of course.” He said with a shoulder shrug.

  “Even the pasta?”

  “Yeah, pasta too.”

  “You make pasta from scratch, Jack? You couldn’t fry an egg in college,” Ander said.

  “Yeah, well, things change,” Dad said with his attention back on Ander. He pointed at Ander accusatorily. “You broke the sacred code!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can we come in, daddy?”

  His gaze went from me to Ander and back again before he caved. “Yeah, of course. Get in here,” he said, waving us in. Ander handed Dad the bottle of wine and reached a hand back for me. I took it and, with us holding hands, we stepped into my father’s house.

  Dad disappeared as soon as he could after that, and I could hear him fussing in the kitchen. Mom had died back when I was still in grade school, and I showed Ander all her lovely pictures.

  When we sat down for dinner, Dad said grace and then he doled out hearty portions onto plates and handed them over. The lasagna was as creamy and delicious as it ever was, and he’d made a fresh, lightly dressed salad to go with it. It was perfect. I looked over at Ander. Everything is perfect. I loved him so much. I knew that once Dad understood that, understood how good Ander was to me, that he’d accept him as a part of my life.

  “So, what have you been doing with yourself?” my dad asked Ander, catching him with his mouth full. Ander took a drink of wine, and I could see him composing what he would say in the few seconds that it gave him to think.

  “I, uh, went to New York, as you know… I’m sorry about us falling out of touch.”

  “It happens,” Dad said dismissively.

  “Well, I started working for a small carpentry group and then bought the owners out when they retired about five years later. From there, I grew the company, working seven days a week, twelve-hour days.”

  “Yeah, I know the drill,” Dad said, familiar with long days and hard work himself, and I hoped that he would appreciate that similarity between them.

  “It was about a year ago, and I heard through the grapevine that you’d got sick and had almost died.” Ander looked uncertain about continuing with this topic, but after taking another sip of wine, he forged on. “When I heard that, it made me take stock of everything. I realized that I’d put twenty years of my life into my business, but that was the only thing I had to show for my life. Without the work, my life was empty, and I decided that just wasn’t enough of a reason to keep doing what I was doing.” He glanced over at me and then back at Dad. “I wanted things to change. So, it took a while to find a buyer, but I sold my company and retired.”

  Dad stopped mid-bite. “You retired?”

  Ander shrugged. “The sale of the company, it made me comfortable, not rich but comfortable. I could retire outright, but I don’t want to. I figure I’ll start a small for-order business of custom made furniture and cabinets. With the internet the way it is, it opens a world market, and I’ll be able to take the jobs I want to take and turn down the rest. I can find a pace to life that I’ve not had before. I can…” He looked over at me and then back at Dad. “I can make room for someone in my life.”

  “That what you’re doing’?” Dad asked, jumping onto Ander’s words. “You are making room for my daughter in your life?” There was nothing wrong with the words themselves, but he spit them out as if throwing insults.

  Ander reached over and took my hand. “Your daughter is an amazing woman. So, yeah, I’m making room for her in my life. No that’s not right. I’m making room for my life around her. She is front and center, first and foremost. It’s her and then it’s everything else after her.”

  My heart wanted to burst with happiness at hearing Ander’s words.

  “Ander, she’s my daughter. Haven’t you got any respect for our friendship? You don’t do that, man. You stepped way out of bounds!”

  “I know, I know,” Ander said. “When I moved back into town, I bought my grandmother’s house. My sister and I, we inherited it but neither of us could do anything with it. When I retired, I bought my sister out and I moved home. I wanted to be here, Jack, back in Chicago. I grew up here, and I wanted to find love here. I wanted to start the rest of my life here instead of hanging around New York waiting for the rest of my life to start… I didn’t know that your daughter was living next door. She was just this amazing woman that I got to know. I didn’t make the connection until the other night at the gallery. Jack, I’m sorry.”

  Dad threw his napkin down on the tabletop. “Sorry my ass! You’re as old as me! My daughter or not, you’ve got no business being with a girl like her.”

  “I am ready to stand by her side, to be there for her, to put her first,” Ander said, his voice raised to a yell to match my dad’s. “I’ll have you know—”

  “Stop it!” I jumped to my feet and clapped my hands in the air, just the way my dad used to do when I was a little kid and he was wanting to drive a point home. “Don’t make me send you to your room,” I said, shaking a finger at dad, enjoying the way his mouth fell open. “And, you! I’ll be sending you to bed without any dessert if you can’t manage your tone.” I put my hands on my hips, doing my best to channel Mom.

  “You nailed her, sweetheart,” Dad said, his eyes sparkling. “You are so much like your mother, more every day.”

  I sank back down in my seat. “And Mommy made a great choice when she married you,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that—”

  “No, she did. I know she did. That’s why you got to trust me, daddy. Ander’s a good man, you know that. And, he takes care of me. He’s good to me, respects me, and never tries to get in the way of my dreams. He doesn’t try to limit me, daddy, not the way Brandon did. He never tells me what I can’t be. He lifts me up and takes care of me when I forget to take care of myself.”

  Dad’s eyes shot to Ander. “You do that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ander answered, showing my dad the respect he deserved.

  Dad smiled big. “She did a sculpture as part of her graduation portfolio. She wore the same clothes for a week and a half, slept on the floor of the garage,” he said with
a chuckle.

  “Daddy!” I complained, but it was too late. They were off and running now, sharing stories about how terrible I could be when I got obsessed with my art.

  “I had to make her eat and take naps!” Ander exclaimed. “She didn’t want to sleep at all the closer time got to the gallery show.”

  Dad reached a hand across the table and gave Ander another hearty handshake. “Alright then.”

  “Oh no,” I mumbled to myself as I watched them trade stories back and forth as they laughed about what it took to keep me well and sane when I was deep into my art. It was two against one. “What have I done.”

  But it was good, I knew that. My dad and Ander had found their peace, a place where they could stand united, and that place was taking care of me. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but I knew they’d reforge their friendship. I was a very lucky girl.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Constance

  “Oh my God, daddy, you’ve worn me to the bone,” I said laughing. “Since when did you decide to be a gardener?” My feet felt as if they weighed ten pounds each and my entire body ached as I walked the path from his car to my front door. He’d called me up a week ago, declaring that I had to be at his house by sunrise today. After I got there, he worked me nonstop all day, and I couldn’t wait to immerse myself in a bubble bath. But, when I’d gotten out to my car to escape his evil clutches, it had refused to start. That meant more time being exhausted as dad cooked us a meal from scratch before driving me home. He promised to have a tow truck pick my car up tomorrow and said that he would take care of whatever it was that needed fixing.

  That was an offer I couldn’t pass up. It had been months since my gallery show. My sales from the show had been good. No, they’d been excellent, but since then the sales from my website had trickled back off. They were better than they had been before I’d had the show, but there was definitely room for growth.