Deepen The Kiss

by Willow Winters

  I stand up and gather my things, making my way out of the office. I’ll call Sarah when I’m on the road and let her know that I had to leave suddenly.

  This news is too big to digest at work. I’m about to freak out and break down, and I sure as hell don’t want to do it at the office.

  I dash to my car, hoping the tears will wait until I’m at least off the property.

  CHAPTER 32

  Charlie

  * * *

  PAPERWORK IS SITTING RIGHT in front of me, but I have to keep reading each line over and over again. The daylight is streaming through the glass doors of the bar, proof that time doesn’t wait for anyone. I didn’t even want to come into work, but I don’t have a choice.

  The sound of the door opening draws my attention, and my body stiffens when I see who it is. Michael. I haven’t answered a single phone call or text from my family. I didn’t even turn my phone on until this morning. I’m ashamed. I apologized. There’s not much more I can do.

  Michael walks straight to me, and a few people at the bar glance our way. The air is tense as I sit up straight, prepared for him to bitch me out.

  He sits in the seat opposite from me, his face like stone.

  “You know what I had to put up with last night?” he asks me.

  I keep in the sigh threatening to creep out. I feel like shit already, but I’ll take it from Michael. It was his wedding, and I fucked it up.

  “She’s giving me a hard time, telling me this is my fault.”

  I flinch at his words. “It’s not-”

  “And she’s pissed you’re ignoring her,” he bites out his words, clenching his teeth and sitting back in his chair.

  “I just want to be left alone right now,” I tell him in a low voice. I just want everyone to leave me the fuck alone and stay out of it. It hurts bad enough as it is.

  “It’s an insult that she was there and it was some sort of sham.”

  “Ali’s the one who asked her,” I bite back.

  “She thought she meant something to you. Ali fucking loves you and you basically smacked her in the face, letting Grace be in the wedding like that.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” I tell him, clenching my hand and my jaw. I don’t like the way he’s talking about her. It’s not like she was trying to hurt them. We never meant for anyone to get hurt. Never. “All I ever told Ma and Ali was that I was seeing someone. Not that it was serious or anything like that. Ali just assumed. And then it snowballed from there. Besides, it's not like it matters anyway,” I say dismissively, hoping he'll just drop it.

  “I don’t know how you can sit there and tell me that it doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice flat but his eyes full of anger. “You know how many wedding pictures have her in them?” he asks.

  Guilt presses against my chest. I knew deep down even when I first asked her that this was something more than I wanted to believe. I should have called it off after Ali upped the stakes, but somewhere deep down, I wanted Grace to be a part of my life.

  But she never wanted that.

  I clear my throat of all the emotion threatening to come up. “Look. She didn’t mean anything to me,” I say the words hard, wanting to believe them. “It was a mistake and I’m sorry,” I swallow thickly, holding his gaze.

  It’s only then that I hear the door move, and I glance to see whoever came in.

  My heart leaps up my throat when I see Grace standing there, her mouth agape and tears running down her face.

  Fuck! I jump up from the table, but my thighs hit it and it sways before crashing down to the floor.

  “Jesus!” Michael yells, standing up quickly to avoid the damn thing falling on top of him. The sound of his chair legs screeching across the floor is accompanied by Maggie yelling out at the bar, “Watch it!” The table hits the floor with a loud bang and nearly splinters from the impact, the papers fluttering in the air and my glass shattering onto the ground.

  As the commotion settles, I look up and Grace is gone.

  “What the hell, Charlie?” Michael yells at me, but I ignore him, running to the door and swinging it open.

  The bright light of the morning hits me in the face and makes me wince.

  “Grace!” I yell out for her, even though I know it’s useless. Her car’s already headed out of the parking lot, tires screeching.

  “Grace,” I scream louder, running out into the parking lot without looking around as her car disappears into the distance and my words echo in my head.

  I didn’t mean it.

  I swear to God; I didn’t mean it. My heart hammers to the point where it hurts as I fumble in my back pocket trying to grab my phone.

  I dial her number and press it to my ear, listening to it ring as the door opens behind me.

  Ring.

  “What the fuck, Charlie?” Michael asks me from behind, putting a hand on my shoulder, but I brush him away, still staring at the street that she drove down.

  She came back. And I fucking hurt her. I made her cry.

  Ring.

  I must mean something to her if she came back here to see me. And now it’s shot to hell because I said shit I didn’t mean. The final ring is followed by a click.

  All I can hear is her voicemail kicking in and the blood rushing in my ears. I pinch the bridge of my nose as her soft voice tells me to leave a message.

  Beep.

  “Grace, come back here,” I speak into the phone although each word claws its way out through the sharp lump forming there. I try to swallow, but I can’t. “I know what you heard-” I stop when Michael grabs my shoulder again.

  I whip around to shove him backward. I don’t give a fuck about him, or anyone or anything right now. “Grace, I’m sorry,” I finally breathe, walking around the building and sagging against the brick.

  “It’s not what you think, and I didn’t mean it.” I don’t know what else to say. I wait a moment for more words to come, but nothing’s there. Just the look in her eyes staring back at me. “I’m sorry, Grace.” I breathe into the phone, “Please come back to me.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Grace

  * * *

  AS I’M DRIVING AWAY, I’m stunned, for the longest time. Then I feel shame heat my face. It’s only when I turn off the highway that I realize I’m crying.

  I don’t even bother to wipe away the tears as I drive home. They flow down my face, unchecked. Headlights shine in my Honda, throwing odd strips of light. I’m in too much pain to care.

  She didn’t mean anything to me.

  It was a mistake.

  I park on the street near my building and head towards it, feeling my heart beat out of my chest with pain. People on the sidewalk give me odd looks. It’s not every day you see a woman bawling as she hurries down the street.

  I probably look awful, but I’m too miserable to care. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, but I don’t check it. Whoever wants to talk to me right now is out of luck. I couldn’t manage words even if I wanted to.

  I run up the stairs to my apartment and go inside. My back hits the door as I shut it and sag against it. I can’t get the vision of Charlie saying I didn’t mean anything to him out of my head. I really was so fucking stupid to think it could have been something more.

  This is all on me. He told me from the beginning. Hell I knew from day one that he didn’t want me like that. It was never anything more for him.

  I just couldn’t help myself.

  My shoes get kicked off. My bed is calling my name, so I fling myself onto it, fully clothed. I pull the blankets up over my head, forming a calming cocoon, although my chest still feels tight with pain.

  Tears take over for a good long while, soaking my pillowcase as I sob into it. I’ve always been an ugly crier and today is no exception. All this shit is just too much for me to take. My phone vibrates again, which only makes me cry harder. I feel like I’m wringing myself out, tears pouring out like water running out of a cloth.

  It feels like I cry forever.
Letting it all out. But eventually the tears subside. I feel hollow, like there’s not another tear left in the universe to be cried.

  I peel back the cover of the cocoon I made of my comforter, breathing in fresh air. My grief is still there, still palpable, but it’s been muted.

  I try to think about the situation logically, now that I’m not standing in the bar, hearing Charlie say those things. It was awful. It really was one of the most wretched things that could have happened to me, walking in as he was airing our dirty laundry to everyone in earshot. I’ve never felt shame like that before.

  I feel bereft without Charlie here by my side. I feel loss, like Charlie died or something. But he’s not dead. He’s right down the road, probably going on with his life like it never happened.

  Like I never happened. I feel myself starting to tear up again.

  But I need to be strong and pull myself together. I’m not only making choices for myself now; I’m making choices for my baby, too. Just because the man I love thinks I was a mistake… that I didn’t mean anything to him…

  I breathe out. I’m going to have a tough road ahead of me, with or without Charlie by my side. But if I have to stand tall and pretend that things between us didn’t affect me…

  It seems almost impossible, but I’m determined to do it. For the sake of the new life growing within me…

  I put both hands on my belly. The baby under my hands is so new, so fragile. I try to picture raising it alone, with no one to help.

  My eyes water just thinking about it, but I refuse to cry. I wanted this baby, although not like this. It’s an accident… but I knew I was taking a chance that night with Charlie, deep down. I was reckless, thinking I’d never be able to have a little one. I won’t let this situation take away from the fact that I’ll be a good mother. Just as soon as I figure all this shit out.

  I blow out a breath and sit up. My phone buzzes again in my pocket, and I pull it out.

  I have a text from Charlie, which I completely ignore. I also have a text from Ali though. I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, then open it.

  Hey. Charlie saw you at Mac’s. He said you were upset. Are you okay?

  My fingers hover over the keys as I formulate a reply. I realize that I’ve lied enough to his family, even though most of it was secondhand through Charlie. If I’m going to be a parent, I’ve got to start things off right.

  That means not lying about anything to Ali, because she was innocent in all of this. She cares enough to ask how I am, so I’m going to honor her with the truth.

  I was hurt, but I’m okay, I write. I developed feelings for your brother, serious ones. But everyone, including him, warned me not to. It didn’t work out, because of that.

  I bite my lip, then text: I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I hope you and I can still be friends.

  I send it, knowing that it’s unlikely that I’ll make any overtures of friendship to her. Not when I’m seven months pregnant with her brother’s baby and hiding it from him, anyway. I groan aloud, I can’t do that. As much as I want to keep this from him… he’s going to find out.

  Setting down my phone, I sigh. I look around my apartment aimlessly, at a loss for what to do. An unfinished canvas catches my eye.

  Almost mechanically, I go through the motions of setting up my art studio by the window. First I change, then set up the canvas on an easel.

  I stop for a second, pressing a hand to my abdomen. My stomach feels… weird. It doesn’t gurgle as it would do when it's upset. It just hurts, a distant throb. I try to focus on it, but I get nothing.

  In a few seconds, it’s gone. I go about my business.

  I gather paints and pencils and paintbrushes. I spend a long time getting colors that match my mood onto my palette.

  Apparently my mood is dark.

  Eyeing the canvas, I start to work. I start sketching, mindlessly at first. Then out of nothing, something emerges. I've just drawn a man in a tuxedo, floating in a stream. I add a mask, like The Phantom of the Opera. It seems right, somehow.

  As the sketch progresses, I wonder about the man. He's expressionless as of yet, floating away from everything he knows.

  Is Charlie the man? I wonder. Is it our relationship? Or is the man a representative of the hopes and dreams that I had? Or maybe the river, forever flowing away?

  It’s funny how in this type of art, I’m not always sure what parts of it mean. I don’t have to know; that’s the freedom of expression that I love.

  My phone vibrates a few times. Probably Ali texting me back, trying to figure out what the fuck I mean.

  I begin to paint. First the background, then the man. His mask is really eerie. I try to capture the fact that he's floating downstream, to a destination unknown.

  When I have to step back and let the first layer dry, I’m struck by the fact that the tone of the picture is very melancholy. Not that it’s really surprising. Look at what happened today.

  I go to rinse my brushes in the bathroom sink, my thoughts churning.

  CHAPTER 34

  Charlie

  * * *

  I'M STARTING A NEW HABIT. It’s a leaving work because I don’t give a fuck habit.

  A shaky breath leaves me as I look out of the window and think about how Michael tried to stop me. He held me back at the bar, keeping me from Grace and wanting to know every fucking detail. And I told him. Every last detail, too.

  I told him how I felt about her. How I was pissed that she told Diane.

  But I keep coming back to one thing. If I didn’t mean anything to her, why did she stand up to Ali and try to make it better? Why did she come back to the bar?

  I don’t give a fuck what she told Diane.

  The traffic light goes from red to green, and I hit the gas pedal. I'm driving as fast as I can to go to her.

  I want Grace. And I know some piece of her wants me, too. I clench my jaw as the next light turns yellow and I think about just blowing through it, but I slow down and try to calm the fuck down. I know where she lives. I’ve seen her ID plenty of times before, and she’s told me her address more than once, flirting and teasing about taking her home. I never thought this would be the fucking reason I’m finally going to her apartment.

  I don’t even know what I’ll say when I see her. My eyes flick to the phone in the passenger seat. She won’t answer me. I fucking hope she’s at her place. I don’t want to make a scene at her job, but if she’s not home, that’s where I’m headed next.

  I need her to know I didn’t mean it.

  Even if she turns me away for good, I won’t leave until she tells me she believes me. I never wanted to hurt her. Not in any way.

  It takes forever to get to her apartment, but when I do, I take the stairs two at a time.

  The brass numbers on her door stare back at me as I raise my fist and bang against her door. I know she’s home. Her car’s here. My breathing comes in ragged pants and my body heats then cools, the anxiety overwhelming me.

  I lean against the door, waiting for her to say something. But there’s nothing.

  I bang on the door again and then stop as I hear the knob click and turn. Grace opens the door with the chain lock still engaged and peeks out at me. Her cheeks are red and tearstained, and it rips my heart in half.

  “Grace,” her name comes out as a plea. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “You should go, Charlie,” her voice cracks as she talks, but she stays still, staring back at me.

  “I need you to hear me out.” She bites her lip and looks away. The only sound I can hear is my heart beating as the silence grows.

  “Please just hear me out,” I beg her.

  The door closes and I hear her unlock the latch and then open it a good foot to look at me. She doesn’t open it any further, and I don’t push her to. I’m grateful she opened it at all.

  “I’m so damn sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean it. I never meant to hurt you.” My heart races as I get the words out as quickly as possible. “I need you to k
now that. I didn’t mean a damn thing I said back there.” I gesture down the hall and wait for her to say something. Anything. Please believe me.

  “You should go,” her voice is pained as she says the words, standing in her doorway and not letting me in.

  “Grace, I didn’t mean any of it,” I start to tell her. I half expect her to stop me, but she lets me go on. I look down the empty hall, gathering the courage to lay it all on the line for her.

  “I don’t know what you heard,” I swallow the lump in my throat remembering the words I said. Her expression scrunches with agony and a deep wrinkle forms in the middle of her forehead as she holds back tears.

  “That I never meant anything to you.”

  “I didn’t mean it.” I stop her right there. “You do mean something to me, I swear it.” I take in a deep breath. “I haven’t ever felt anything like this before. Never. You mean more to me than anyone else ever has.”

  Her blue eyes swirl with emotion and stare deep into mine. I know she wants to believe it. I can feel her coming back to me. I desperately want her in my arms, but she’s still clutching that damn door.

  “Charlie,” Grace’s voice is tight as she finally looks me in the eye. “I want to be real honest with you right now,” she says and then swallows thickly.

  “Go ahead,” I take a small step forward, willing her to tell me whatever she’s thinking.

  “I want stability,” her hand grips the door and I watch as her fingers tighten. “I want a family and a man in my life who wants that, too.”

  My heart clenches, and I can feel the words on the tip of my tongue. I want that, too… eventually. I do. Someday.

  “And not just someone who thinks maybe he might settle down one day,” she answers, as if she read my mind.

  “I-” I feel my muscles tighten. She wants a ring. She wants commitment. I was ready when I came, determined to do whatever it took to keep her. But the thought of a ring makes me clam up. “I want you, Grace.”