“Stop. I met him after… we were totally done.”
I had to bite my lips not to say what I wanted to, which was that we’d never be done, let alone totally.
She was still talking, still stomping on my heart with her cute little feet. “He’s new to town. I’m showing him around.”
“What’s his name?”
“Aaron.”
I hated his name. It sounded so clean cut and normal. “What does he do?” I asked. I was willing to bet he didn’t make more money than me, the punk.
“He’s an accountant.”
Oh I hated his guts. Cast aside for a fucking number cruncher. “Where’s he taking you?”
She blushed and I wanted to howl at the moon. “We have a reservation at that new hot restaurant in the Cavendish casino. James was nice enough—”
“Oh, it’s James, is it?”
“Well, James through Bianca. She was nice enough to get us in, after I met her at that party and started going to that girls’ night thing.”
“Fuck anonymous? That thing is sexist, you know. No men allowed? Not very progressive.”
She ignored that completely. “I’m meeting him there. Don’t be rude about it. I’m nervous enough as it is. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date.”
I had to sit down, mind reeling. My heart felt like it had stopped in my chest.
I’d never even taken her on a proper date.
I was staring at her, eyes stinging.
She saw something on my face that had her feeling my forehead. I closed my eyes, leaning into her touch.
“I think you might be coming down with something,” she mused.
“I might,” I agreed. “I’m sorry I never took you on a real date,” I said, voice low and agonized. “I have no excuse.”
Her tone was completely innocent when she said, “Oh, stop. I never expected that from you. I knew what I was getting into.
I felt a stream of self-loathing pour into me that was unprecedented.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make you expect more from me,” I said quietly.
And then. “Please don’t go out with him.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Don’t do this. No games. We’re still close friends, Turner, let’s not mess that up, okay?”
I just stared at her, feeling adrift, lost in pain.
She left soon after and I picked up Mac and followed her to the front door, watched her open it, followed her out and watched her get into her car.
Watched her drive away. I might’ve stood there until she returned if the puppy hadn’t snapped me out of it by barking.
I patted her head and went inside. “She’ll be back, Mac. She’ll always come back.”
I wished I believed that.
I was waiting for her when she got home around midnight. Right by the front door with the puppy in my lap.
“Tell me about this guy,” I asked the second she walked in the door. “You really like him?”
“I don’t know yet. He seems really nice.” She paused. “He makes me laugh.”
He made her laugh.
He made her laugh.
It was possibly the most hurtful thing she could have said to me.
My mind went wild, finding the most painful ways to take that, pictured her marrying this new guy, moving out, quitting and having his babies.
I have a very active imagination and it did me no favors then.
Was he the one?
I wished I was still the one.
Had I even been the one? Was I capable of being anyone’s one?
I could barely choke out a goodnight before I handed off Mac to her and fled.
She went out with him that Sunday as well. I was waiting for her when she came home from that, and I was not keeping it together well.
I was not keeping it together at all.
“Have you slept with him?” I bombarded while she was getting out of her car.
I didn’t ask because I wanted to know.
I asked because I needed to know.
She stared at me like I was deranged, and I was only relieved by that. “Yeah,” she said with dripping sarcasm, “We went to an orgy after Sunday school,” she continued, deadpan, “I’m surprised we didn’t see you there.”
I grinned, feeling lighthearted for the first time in days. “You must have been at that other orgy. Pity.”
I wanted to see this guy she wasn’t undressing for.
I made sure I was in the driveway the next time he picked her up.
I was wearing flannel PJ bottoms and a wife beater, glass of Scotch in hand.
He was perfectly normal looking. Not too tall, not too big, not too handsome, not too much of anything.
Maybe that’s what she liked. The opposite of my overwhelming self.
Ro opened the front door and Machiavelli rushed out, barking so hard her whole body bounced with each one.
He stepped out of the car. They moved toward each other and hugged for just a moment before pulling back.
Ro introduced him to me.
I had to unclench my fist to shake his hand.
Mac was right at his feet, still barking at him like he hadn’t passed the dog test. I loved her, the stupid Muppet. I picked her up with my free hand and she quieted instantly, her adoring eyes on my face.
I smiled at Aaron and it felt deeply unpleasant, but still I pressed on, “Why don’t you come on in for a drink, Aaron?” I asked.
He smiled in a very boy next door, aw shucks way, and I wanted to punch his teeth out.
“I don’t drink,” he said like he was apologizing for it.
Of course he fucking didn’t. I knocked back the rest of my glass of Scotch.
He just blinked at me with wide eyes.
I tried again. “Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee then?”
They were standing together, shoulders nearly touching. He wasn’t tall, but everyone was taller than Ro, so I supposed that worked out.
“Raincheck on that,” he told me in the most affable way, “we have a reservation, so we kind of have to go.”
I was looking at them and no matter what she’d said, how she’d dumped me, it wouldn’t stop the feelings, the sense of ownership.
Mine, my gut called out, even as I watched that skinny little fucker drive away with her.
I was waiting again when she came home several hours later.
She was barely in the door when I started in on her.
“I don’t like him,” I told her shamelessly. “There’s something off about him. He’s not the one for you. I feel like he’s a liar.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding concerned.
Holy shit. She was going to value my twisted, biased opinion. I wasn’t a good enough of a guy not to use that to my advantage. “He’s too slick.”
“Really?” she asked. “That’s a bummer. I wasn’t getting that read at all on him, but I do trust your instincts.”
She did? It was news to me. Very welcome news.
“I find him to be profoundly exceptionable,” I added.
I knew I’d laid it on a bit too thick by the way her eyes narrowed me.
“Stop that,” she said, not unkindly. “No games, remember?”
I’d never once agreed to that. That was her thing. I would have played every game in the book if only I thought one of them would work.