True North

by Kelly Collins

  The waitress approaches our table to take our order. I ask for a ham and cheese omelet with fruit on the side. She looks to Zane, and he orders a veggie omelet, with a side of bacon, wheat toast, and a glass of milk.

  “I saw your leather vest in the closet. What does BFK stand for?” I have been waiting for a chance to ask him about it, but I didn’t want to admit I was snooping in his closet.

  “It stands for Bikers For Kids. We do a lot of fundraising for children’s charities. Mostly, we raise money for disadvantaged children, abandoned children, and children of abuse. I love kids, and I don’t ever want to see a kid not get what they need, especially if I can contribute in some way. What are you passionate about?”

  What am I passionate about? I love men who want to protect children. He’s obviously a passionate man. He’s big and strong, but tender enough to let a child melt his heart. Who wouldn’t love that? I need very little time to ponder his question. My passions fall right in line with his.

  “I love kids, too. I write software for kids and put it up on Freeware. I like to make games where kids think they’re playing, but they are actually learning. You can learn a lot from playing the right kind of video game. I make things for all age groups. For younger kids, I start with things like colors and shapes. For older kids, I tend to write games that require critical thinking skills.”

  “I love that. I want to play some of your games. What platform can I use to play them?”

  “Your PC will work just fine. I can help you download one of them, if you would like me to.”

  I smile in his direction. I feel happy knowing he appreciates what I do. I never had a lot of support from Tyler.

  “Is that what you love to do—make games?” His eyes lift in question, and I wonder if maybe he doesn’t appreciate it after all. Maybe he thinks it’s silly.

  “I do. I love creating something that isn’t what it seems. I never really fully embraced the dream. My ex-husband wasn’t supportive. He thought it was a child’s fantasy. After several years of his haranguing, I gave up the dream and began coding for businesses like Lone Star—a tax software company.” I look out the window and wonder what he’s thinking. “I also have a contract with a space technology company. They often need navigation software for the satellites they produce. I like doing that, although I probably won’t hear from them again, since I was referred by my father and we are estranged.”

  His eyes shoot up at the word ‘estranged’. He looks like he is going to say something, but the waitress interrupts our conversation when she delivers our meal. Zane reaches down and rubs the head of his son. He is such a contented little man. We eat in silence but move into a conversation halfway through.

  “It’s none of my business,” he begins, “but I have to know. Your ex seems like an asshole. What was the attraction?”

  “Do you have an hour or two?” I quip.

  “I have all the time you need. I’m a very good listener.” He takes a drink of his milk and puts the glass firmly back on the table. “You obviously have some deep-seated hurt, or you wouldn’t be having nightmares about him.”

  I take a bite of fruit and stall. I don’t know where to begin. I start my story of how Tyler and I met, and how he won my parents over and go from there.

  “It was like he sprinkled magic dust over all of us and we were under his spell. My parents were completely over the moon in love with him.”

  “What made him so special to your parents?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I think it’s because my dad finally found the son he wanted. My mother was excited because she saw someone who could take over the business. She wanted my dad to spend more time living than working.”

  “How long did you date before he proposed?”

  I think about Tyler’s proposal and begin to laugh awkwardly.

  “It wasn’t so much of a proposal as it was a merger. We went out to dinner, and he placed the box on the table. I opened it and saw a ring. He never said will you marry me; he just said, ‘I think your mom has it all planned.’”

  “Did she? Did she have your future planned?” He looks down at the baby, then back at me.

  “Yes, I was married two months later. The wedding happened so fast that people expected me to show up in maternity wear.”

  “Why did you allow that to happen? I realize hindsight is always 20/20, but we’re talking about marriage and a lifetime commitment. You seem so strong and self-confident. Did the loss of control not bother you?” He takes the last bite of his omelet and sets his plate aside. He is completely focused on me.

  “How is Aaron doing?” I try to deflect his attention to the baby.

  “He’s sleeping. Answer the question.”

  “You don’t have to bully me to get an answer. I’ll answer anything you want to know,” I grumble.

  “Good, I have lots of questions.”

  “In hindsight, I got caught up in the excitement. My mother was like a tsunami as far as planning goes. I got caught up in her wave.” I push my plate aside and continue. “We all played our parts in this disaster. My mom wanted a wedding, my dad wanted a son, Tyler wanted access to everything he couldn’t get on his own, and I wanted to please everyone.”

  “Did you love Tyler?” His eyes narrow as he stares at me.

  “I loved the idea of Tyler. I loved the picture-perfect boyfriend he showed me those first few months of dating. I didn’t know or love the Tyler he became after we married.”

  “What do you mean?” He lifts Aaron up and puts him on his shoulder. The baby squirms and falls back to sleep.

  “On our honeymoon, we took a three-week world tour. My husband spent most nights at the bar. I spent most nights in bed alone. He adopted a sex on Wednesday rule. He told me since it was known as ‘hump day’, it would be our designated date night.”

  “So you’re telling me he had this amazingly sexy woman in his bed and spent his nights at the bar, then refused to have sex on any other night but Wednesday?”

  “Yep, that pretty much sums it up.” Oh, my God, did he just say I was sexy? Really?

  “He sounds gay.” My mouth drops open, and my eyes grow big. How is this man so perceptive? “No fucking way. He is, isn’t he?”

  I want to laugh, and I want to cry. This is such a soap opera. I can hardly believe it’s my life.

  “Yep.”

  “When did you find out?” He reaches out one hand and touches mine. His soft caress gives me the courage to continue.

  “Unfortunately, I never realized until the end. I wish he would have been honest from the beginning. You love who you love. That wasn’t the issue. Sadly, I was in denial. I wanted everything to be perfect, and so in my mind I made it perfect. I made excuses for his lack of interest. I made up reasons for why he slept in a different room. He was comfortable to be around—like a girlfriend.”

  “Was he…” he looks uncomfortable, “was he having sexual relations with others while he was married to you?”

  The waitress approaches and asks if we need anything else. When Zane nods no, she leaves the bill on the table. He pulls out a twenty, places it on top of the ticket. We stand up to leave. I’m relieved to be going. The rest of this conversation is best held out of earshot of the general public.

  We make sure Aaron is buckled into his stroller safely and begin to walk back.

  “You don’t have to tell me the answer to my previous question. I realize the subject is very personal.” He pushes the stroller with one hand and holds my hand with the other. Holding his hand is such a natural thing to do. Telling him my secrets seems right, too.

  “I’m okay with telling you. I don’t know why, but I feel safe with you. Am I wrong to feel safe? I’m obviously not a good judge of character, and I don’t want my trust to be misplaced.”

  “You can trust me, Alexa. I’m not going to hurt you.” He gives my hand a squeeze.

  “I appreciate that. I don’t think I could survive another heartbreak.”

  “You
were railroaded into marrying that douchebag.” Zane stops and turns to me. I watch as he takes my face into his hands. “You’re a good person, and I feel something for you. I feel protective of you. I care about you.” His lips consume mine. The whole world stops when he kisses me. I can’t hear the traffic as it passes; I only hear the rush of blood as it travels to my brain. He pulls away from me, grabs my hand and we continue to walk.

  “I care about you, too.” I lace my fingers in his and squeeze. “Just in case you were wondering, I have been tested for HIV several times since my divorce.” I don’t look at him as I speak. I’m afraid to see something in his eyes. Will he be disgusted? I know I was, and then I was just scared shitless.

  “I have to be honest. I was curious, but I never would have asked you. Now that you brought it up, weren’t you furious? He exposed you to his lifestyle and didn’t give you the chance to protect yourself.”

  “I went through every emotion. I felt angry at his betrayal. I felt relieved it wasn’t me who kept him out of our bed, but his preference for men. I was scared he’d exposed me to AIDS, or something else. I was elated when my tests came back negative. My emotions ran the gamut.”

  “He is the worst type of man. He’s a disgrace to the male population.” I look around and see we are more than halfway there. “What was his end game?”

  “He was after my dad’s business. He worked his way into a partnership, and when he got it, he let the pieces fall where they would. My dad lost half his company, and Tyler left a very wealthy man.”

  “Money—he ruined your life and your parents’ lives because he wanted money?” I look over at him and see the veins of his neck bulge. His face is red, and it’s not from the rising sun. He’s angry.

  “That pretty much sums it up. He is way worse than what you’ve heard, but I think that’s all I can stomach for one day. I wouldn’t say he ruined my life. He did some horrific things; some things I can’t talk about for my own sanity.” I think back to our last day in court and silently curse him to hell. “However, I’m still here. I was derailed for nearly five years. The four years I was married to him and the year it took to divorce him are all I’m willing to give up. It was a bump in the road, but I’m finally back on track.”

  “I’m glad your bump in the road led you here, Alexa.” He points down to the baby. “He’s great company, but he’s not much of a conversationalist.” That makes me smile. Being with this man makes me happy.

  We walk the rest of the way in silence. He walks me to my door and waits for me to unlock it.

  “I’ll see you at four.” I wait by the door and hope he’ll at least give me a peck on the cheek. I know I’m being greedy, but God, don’t I deserve something good for a change? I traversed through mountains of shit this last year, and I just want something good for a moment.

  “I don’t want to rush you into anything. It would appear you have had a lot to contend with this last year. If I’m adding to your stress, I can step back and give you some space.” He looks past me, into my room and then directly into my eyes. “I just want to hold you and kiss you senseless, though.”

  My heart leaps with joy at his confession. I pull on his waistband and drag him into my room. With his hand on the stroller, he drags it in with him. I take a peek at the sleeping baby. Zane and I fall onto my bed and laugh.

  “That might be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in years. I know you have to go open the bar, so instead of kissing me senseless, can you kiss me until I’m scatterbrained?”

  Leaning on his elbow, he props himself up and looks at me. His fingers come up to push my sweaty tendrils away from my forehead. His thumb traces over my cheekbone. He is looking at me with soft eyes and parted lips.

  “Alexa, I want to give this a chance. Our connection—it’s real. Do you want the same thing?” He leans down to brush his lips against mine. It’s a soft feather of a touch coming from a large, burly man. He is a person of contradictions. Everything that’s rough and bristly is softened by something else. “I don’t want to start something and have you take off on the next full moon.”

  “I’m not a runner, Zane. I’m happy here, and I’ll stay as long as I continue to be happy.” It’s the most honest answer I can give. I look into his eyes. There is a smile there, but then the softness hardens slightly. His cheeks appear stone-like as he clenches his jaw tightly.

  “Give me your lips, woman,” he growls. His lips settle on mine softly, but deliberately. He manages to coax his tongue inside my mouth. I taste him, and it’s the sweetest flavor in the world. It reminds me of sugarcane.

  I roll my body next to his, wanting to know what he would feel like beside me. His free hand slides down my back and settles on my hip. My heart beats out an erratic rhythm that makes me breathless.

  He breaks the kiss and pulls in my lower lip for a not-so-gentle suck. I moan as everything comes alive in my body. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt a pang of passion from being in a man’s arms. Selfishly, I want to keep him here to see how fabulous he can make me feel.

  The palm of his hand spreads across my butt. He grabs a hold of my bottom and pulls me against him. I can tell he is just as affected by our kiss as I am.

  Roughly ten minutes and several gasps and groans later, he rolls onto his back and breathes deeply.

  “I feel like a teenager again. Any minute now, I’m sure my mom is going to rush in here and catch us.” He pulls his hands to his face and rubs. “I have to go open the bar. I would love to stay here and kiss you all day, but I can’t. I need a cold shower.”

  I roll over and rub my hand against his stomach and work my way up to his chest. I can feel the roughness of his hair through his thin cotton shirt. I love the feel of him under my fingers. How his breath hitches each time I slowly cross over his peaked nipples.

  “I’ll see you at four. Thanks for breakfast, and thanks for talking with me.” I push myself into a seated position. The change in altitude makes me dizzy, or maybe it’s his kisses that make me feel woozy.

  With a groan, he slowly rises and pulls me to my feet. I fall into his embrace and feel him kiss the top of my head. He leans down for a chaste peck on the lips, then he moves toward the door with the baby in tow. I watch as he pushes the stroller across the street and disappears around the back of the bar.

  In a matter of days, this man has taken the scarred girl I was and set free the woman I am. In his eyes, I’m smart, sexy and beautiful, and he wants me.

  Chapter Eight

  The afternoon floats by. I spend several hours on my project before I step into the shower and wash my hair. I spend extra time drying my hair. I want to make sure it smells good and feels better.

  I want to look super nice today. I slip on a sundress and a pair of ballet flats. I pull my hair back in a pretty ribbon and apply my makeup. My swollen lips look luscious coated in a tinted gloss.

  I look at the clock and see it’s three-thirty. I pace the room, waiting for the minute hand to move forward. The damn thing seems to be stuck. Why is it when you are looking forward to something, time stands still?

  I force myself to wait another ten minutes before I shamelessly give in and head to the bar. I can hear the jukebox before I enter. Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” is playing. I slowly open the door and walk in. The dim lighting of the bar requires a minute for my eyes to adjust. I’m looking for one person, and one person only—him. I scan the perimeter of the room and see him standing next to a table. His eyes turn toward me. We connect, and the entire room of people fades away. He’s dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. I scan his body and see he’s upped his game tonight. A collared, button-down shirt is dressing up when it comes to Sugar Glen.

  I slip past him and go behind the bar to pick up my apron. It’s been washed; it almost looks new. I wrap the tie around my waist and fasten it behind my back.

  Grabbing the tray from behind the bar, I stroll through the tables and pick up empties. As I walk past Zane, his hand slips o
ut and grabs me. With his arm around my waist, he pins me next to him.

  “Alexa, this is my good friend Dale,” he says as he grips my waist.

  “Nice to meet you, Dale.” Dale is a nice looking guy with black hair that is graying at the sides. He offers his hand in a gesture of welcoming. I reach for it and find my hand being pulled to his lips. Zane’s body tenses, then relaxes as my hand is returned.

  “Where did you find this beauty, Z?”

  “I found her on the side of the road. She was in a heap of sweat and tears next to an old broken down piece-of-shit car. I swooped her up and haven’t let her out of my sight since.”

  “Is that right? I can’t say I blame you.” Dale smiles up at me.

  “She thinks she is here just waiting for her car to be fixed, but I’m trying to persuade her to give Sugar Glen a try.”

  Dale gives Zane one of those man looks that says, Don’t bullshit me, man. His eyes roll as he says, “It’s more like you want her to give you a chance.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that. I like her, and I want her to stay.”

  “I hate to leave your little party, but I think I’ll go pick up glasses while you two plan my future. It’s nice to meet you, Dale.”

  I make the rounds and clean up what I can. My eyes keep straying to him, and when I’m not looking for him, I am gazing up the stairs. I didn’t really get to hold Aaron today, and I miss feeling him in my arms.

  “You can go up and see him,” the voice behind me says. He came up behind me so quietly, I didn’t realize he was there. I turn around quickly and find my face planted into his broad chest.

  “You scared me. I was deep in thought.” I step back and look up at him. His face is clean-shaven. I can smell the shaving cream and something else. “Are you wearing cologne?”

  “Yes, I thought I would try to smell like something other than sweat and baby puke today. Do you like it?”

  I inhale his scent and fake a swoon. “Why, Mr. Abbamonte, I do believe you smell delicious,” I say in a very bad southern belle-esque manner.