by Poppy Parkes
“You told him to?” Ruth felt her brain working hard to comprehend her friend's words. She could practically hear gears grinding and groaning.
“I had no idea about Sam. I never would have encouraged Derek to go explain the situation if I'd known, I swear.”
Ruth felt a burning pressure begin to build in her chest. “Explain what situation?”
“The woman who answered his phone when you called? He's not with her. It was his friend's girlfriend.”
“He told you that.” Ruth's voice sounded flat to her own ears, the pressure expanding from her chest up into her throat, morphing into a throbbing ache. She wasn't sure if she wanted to scream or cry.
Padme nodded. “I am so, so sorry. I never meant –”
“Padme, I – I just –“ Ruth tugged at her curls hard, exasperated. “I don't even know what to say.”
“I told Derek to come beg for your forgiveness. And I'm not above begging for forgiveness myself.” Her friend stared at her in earnest, eyebrows raised, dark eyes full of pleading.
Ruth contemplated taking Padme up on her offer. The pain of hearing the woman's voice coming over the phone, the anger and hurt in Sam's eyes, her torturous inner conflict over the two men – all of this could have been saved if Padme hadn't intervened. Or really, interfered, she thought. So much confusion could have been saved.
Finally, Ruth shook her head, squeezing Padme's hands back, though the ache in her throat did not dissipate. “As tempting as it is, I won't make you grovel. I know your heart was in the right place. Although it made things way messy yesterday morning.”
“So,” Padme said, wheels turning behind her eyes, “did Sam and Derek meet, then?”
Ruth nodded, making the other woman groan. “Sam answered the door when Derek came by, I guess, and by the time I got out of the shower, Derek was gone, Sam was pissed, and there were roses on my kitchen table. And chocolate.”
“I told Derek to bring both,” Padme said, smiling weakly. “I really screwed things up, didn't I? What happened with Sam?”
“Well, whatever Derek said left him with the impression that Derek and I are together. I explained my side of things, and I think Sam believes me. But . . . I don't know where we stand.” She sighed. “Before Derek showed up, Sam said he wanted to see me again. Now, though . . .”
“Do you want to see him again?”
“I guess,” said Ruth. “I mean, yes, I do. He's so nice, Padme, and has these beautiful hazel eyes and a mess of blonde hair. And he's a poet.”
“You said that already,” Padme pointed out.
“Well, it's a big turn on, okay?” Ruth wrinkled her nose.
Padme grinned. “Okay.”
Ruth threw her head back, rubbing her palms down her throat. “I don't know what's wrong with me. Things are probably destroyed with both Sam and Derek. I mean, I have more hope of things continuing with Sam. He didn't say he wouldn't call me, at least. And he seems like a nice guy. A really nice guy.
“But . . .?” Padme prodded.
“But – and I feel like an idiot for saying this – he's not Derek. And there's just something special about Derek. Something exciting.”
Padme peered at Ruth for a moment. “He turns you on.”
The blush flashed up Ruth's cheeks. “Um. Well. Yes, I suppose that could be it.”
“He makes you hot. He makes you want to get crazy.” Padme nodded at Ruth, whose mouth was hanging open, feeling half mortified and half mesmerized.
Could that be it? And was that any kind of reason to go after a man who, in just about all other respects, seemed like a terrible person to pursue a relationship with?
“That's –” Ruth began, then shook her head, words failing.
“Am I right or am I right? I'd bet good money on this. You keep saying Sam is nice, which is great and all, but he doesn't turn you on. Not like Derek, anyway. And it's my personal opinion that you need some crazy loving in your life.”
Ruth glared for a moment. “You'll understand if I'm feeling a little leery about your advice right now.”
“Ouch. And true,” said Padme, wincing. “But I stand by my opinion. I mean, look what happened after you met Derek – you picked up a different guy. You, the great mistrust-er of men.”
Ruth gazed down at her palms, resting in her lap. Was Padme right? Had Derek's brazenness somehow worn off on her in the short time she'd known him? She had seen even in the moment that asking Sam out and then home was uncharacteristic for her. But was it Derek? And – did it matter?
“Maybe you're right,” she sighed at last, “and maybe you're reaching. Either way, it doesn't mean much. Derek's probably done with me, and I have no idea where I stand with Sam. It's done.”
“Do you want it to be done, either with Sam or Derek?” She smirked. “Or, um, both?”
“No. But it's all kind of ruined beyond fixing, isn't it?”
“Look, you said that you think Sam is nice, and that Derek is . . . shall we say scintillating?” Ruth blushed again. “And it seems to me that Derek's had something like this coming to him, philanderer that he is. This weekend has been one colossal misunderstanding. No harm, no foul.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, maybe some harm . . . but all the mistakes were honest ones. No one was committed to anybody, no matter what Derek told Sam about the two of you being an item.”
“Sure,” said Ruth, throwing her hands up in the air. “But I kind of have the feeling that Derek isn't going to answer any calls from me, and Sam . . . well, he's so nice I hate to mess with his heart any more. I didn't mean for him to get caught up in a jumble like this. ”
“Do I hear you choosing Derek?” Padme teased, leaning in close.
“Ugh. I guess. And like I said, it doesn't matter. He's not going to talk to me, I bet.”
“Maybe he won't take your calls . . . but that won't stop you from seeing him again. Groveling can go both ways.”
“I don't know where he lives, or works. Just forget it.”
Padme dashed to the classroom door. “Hang on a sec,” she said, eyes glinting, and then disappeared.
Ruth sighed, getting to her feet. She glanced at the wall clock. Just a few minutes until students tumbled into the school, bleary eyed from the weekend. Moving to her desk to flip through her lesson plans for the day, she had to laugh a little at the weekend she'd had. How was it that the last time she'd been at work, life had felt small and suffocating? And now, in spite of the comedy of errors of the past two days, she felt somehow more awake, more hopeful, even though she didn't have reason to hope for something with Sam or Derek. It was like she had more energy, more to give her students. And the thought of writing wasn't a sad project of wish-fulfillment, but real and valuable.
Was Padme right? Had Derek given her this? Or was it Sam? Or something else entirely? She shook her head. She didn't really care where the refreshment was coming from, she was just grateful that she felt it at all.
Her friend dashed back into the room. “Here,” she said, thrusting a small rectangular piece of cardstock at Ruth.
“What's this?” Ruth frowned, taking the paper. Flipping it over, she read the words Derek Stone, J.D., followed by the address of a law firm, along with his cell and work numbers. Her eyes widened. “How did you get this?”
“He wanted your address. I wanted to have his contact info so I could come kick his teeth in if he did you wrong,” Padme said, shrugging. “I never imagined that you'd be the one doing the wrong.”
“I did not!” Ruth protested.
Her friend laughed. “I know. Anyway, I've got to get to class, but I think you should pay him a visit. I can't tell you what kind of flowers to bring, though.”
“You're crazy,” said Ruth, smiling.
“You know it,” Padme said smoothly, heading out of the classroom. “Grovel, lady!” She threw the words over her shoulder as the bell jangled the start of the school day.
“Crazy,” Ruth muttered to herself as she stowed the card safely in her
purse. But what was even crazier was the fact that she was seriously considering taking Padme's advice.
Chapter 7
Derek glowered at the numbers slowly lighting in succession as the elevator carried him up to his office's floor. With a ding the doors peeled open, and he stomped through the opening past the mahogany front desk. Jani, the secretary, frowned at him from her perch behind the desk, perplexed, as he made a beeline for his office, forgoing their usual morning banter.
Although “morning” was a stretch – he knew full well that it was noon. He hadn't been able to find the energy to extricate himself from his bed when his alarm had gone off hours earlier. He could hear his coworkers murmuring in their own offices, and felt glad no one was out in the hall to rib him on his late arrival. The four other male lawyers and single female lawyer that he worked with, not to mention Jani, all had a pretty good idea of his usual way of relating with the opposite sex. Derek didn't know if they approved or not, and frankly had never cared, but was glad to not have to hear any teasing this particular morning.
Arriving in the cool order of his office, he clicked the door shut, shrugged off his overcoat onto its hanger, and slid into the plush comfort of his leather desk chair with a sigh. He touched the power button on his desktop computer, the screen glimmering to light. It was the latest gen, of course. He had the best of everything. The best suits, the best bed sheets, the best technology, and the best run of women of anyone he knew.
Well, usually.
He clenched his teeth, punching his login code into the computer more aggressively than usual. Even though it'd been very nearly a full day, he still couldn't believe that practically the instant he let himself consider something lasting with a woman, he got burned.
It brought his teenage years back too clearly. He'd been the chubby kid, starry eyed over his crush. Denise Parker, of the curly hair and kind eyes. She'd said yes when he'd asked her to the prom, but when he went to pick her up on prom night, her shocked parents apologetically explained that she'd already taken off for the dance – with another guy. Snuffling on his humiliated tears, he'd walked home, dumping the luscious corsage he'd bought for Denise in a trash can he'd passed on his first and – he'd vowed – last walk of shame. And he'd kept that vow through the years, until yesterday.
Yesterday, he'd felt confused, and then hurt, just like that chubby, pimply teenager he used to be. But now – now he just felt mad. He wanted to punish Ruth.
Derek clicked through his client files on the computer, then sat back, eyes closed, as he waited for them to load. He imagined seeing Ruth through the glass that comprised the inside wall of his office, emerging from the elevator and coming to him to apologize, to beg forgiveness, to say she knew what she'd lost. And he'd reject her, victorious. Or maybe he'd fuck her first, and then leave her dangling. It's what women like her deserved. She and Denise Parker and the rest of their treacherous kind.
The computer beeped its readiness. Derek opened his eyes and sat forward to begin his work. He'd barely read a word on the screen when his phone buzzed. He hit a button.
“Yes?”
“You have a visitor, Mr. Stone,” Jani's voice piped over the line.
He frowned, fairly certain he had no meetings scheduled that morning. But when he looked through the office's glass wall toward the front desk, his throat went dry.
It was Ruth. She gave a little wave as their eyes met. Derek blinked, hard, wondering for a moment if he was seeing things – if he had actually gone insane.
“Mr. Stone?” said Jani through the phone.
“Oh. Ah. Right. Send her in,” he managed at last. Drawing a deep breath, he rose from his chair, smoothing the front of his impeccable charcoal gray suit as he settled onto the top of his desk, feet still planted firmly on the floor. Higher ground, he thought to himself grimly.
Ruth pushed through the door, the scent of vanilla wafting in with her. He swallowed, hard. The vanilla aroma and her tousled hair, the gauzy blouse that clung to her in all the right ways, and the way her legs unfurled from her short denim skirt, clad in leggings and tall boots – he hated that their combined effect nearly undid him. Derek forced himself to scowl, although his inner teen wanted to flash a dopey, lovestruck grin.
“What?” he asked, voice flat. “Come here to make my humiliation complete?”
“Your humiliation?” she snorted as the door closed behind her. “It seems to me that whatever humiliation you've experienced both matches and is the result of the humiliation you put me through.”
“I didn't put you through anything,” he spat. “I wasn't with the woman who answered my phone. It was –”
“I know, your friend's girlfriend. Sandra, right? Padme told me,” she explained.
“You knew, and you still decided to spite me by hooking up with another guy?” he asked, incredulous. “That is messed up.”
“No, it's not,” said Ruth, crossing her arms. “I didn't find out until this morning. When I met Sam, I had just – I thought, anyway – chatted with your most recent hookup. And so I went out to write, and Sam was there, and he was nice, and – well, I guess you know the rest. You can't blame me for that.”
“Can't I?” He practically barked the words.
“Well, I guess you could,” she said, shrugging. “But that would be really stupid. You said it yourself – you want to find out if we could have something together. I want to find that out, too. And I was willing to forgive you that waitress. Our relationship – if you want to call it that – has so far been one massive misunderstanding. I'm willing to start fresh, even though I'm not sure I should. But,” she paused, biting her lip as she narrowed her eyes at him, “I want to. I feel like I've been a slave to 'shoulds' my whole life. And I don't want that anymore.” She paused, biting her lip for a moment. “I want you.”
As she spoke, Derek felt pressure building in his chest. He didn't know whether he wanted to shout at her or laugh or cry, or something else entirely. Finally, he drew a breath. “What about Sam?” he managed to choke out.
Ruth shook her head. “Does it matter? I'm not asking about your waitress, am I? Or about who you were with last night, for that matter.”
“I was alone, unlike you.”
“Wrong. I was alone, too, and aching.”
“And what does Sam think of all this?”
“Does it matter?” She shook her head. “I don't know what he thinks. All I know is that I want you. What do you want? To hold onto your bitterness or forgive the honest mistakes we both made and take the risk you told me on Saturday that you wanted to?”
“I'm not sure I can trust you.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “The feeling is mutual. Don't you see that?”
“It was really hard to see anything but Sam in your apartment yesterday morning when I came to explain, to apologize.”
“Fine,” she said, thrusting her hands onto her hips. “You clearly think you're somehow better than me, that I'm supposed to just swallow whatever hurt and mistakes you send my way, but you won't extend the same grace to me. I'm not going to waste my time with a man who won't treat me as an equal, no matter how intrigued I am by him. I'm going.”
Ruth spun on her boot heel and moved for the door, but before she could throw it open, Derek was there, blocking her way, suddenly afraid. “Wait,” he said, the pressure expanding within him. “Just – wait.”
“Why?” She glowered at him, the muscles in her jaw working as she clenched her teeth.
“Because,” he said, surprised at his own breathlessness, “because . . . you're right.” The pressure dissipated as he spoke, and his anger deflated with it.
“Ah,” she said, folding her arms back over her chest, stepping back and giving him an appraising look. “I'm listening.”
He sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Look, I know hearing Sandra answer my phone must have made it feel like all bets were off. I just – I didn't expect you to go sleep with another guy so soon, before I could explain. I was calling
you all night, and you never picked up.”
“I know. I was hurt, and mad, and I thought you were just going to feed me lies or excuses.”
“Fair enough. But . . . I thought you said you didn't date much. And then I go to your place in the morning and there's this guy cooking breakfast.”
“I don't date much,” Ruth said, eyebrows raised. “I'm not a liar. But I was feeling . . . I don't know, oddly bold, I guess, and then Sam was just there and really kind. I'd gotten my hopes up that this really mesmerizing guy was mesmerized by me, only to find out that he was (I thought) still sleeping around. Can you fault me for that?”
Derek fixed her with a long stare, and she gazed defiantly back, eyebrow raised. “No,” he said at last, “I guess not.”
