***
"What? Seriously?" Ellen leaned against my counter later that night after work. "You didn't tell me you had a hottie firefighter from your past."
"He was in the Air Force for the first four years after high school." I smiled and went back to cutting carrots for our salad. I was beyond tired, but Ellen had to come over for our Friday late night dinner. It was getting to be a tradition even though we'd only started it a few months before.
It was nice to have a friend. One friend.
"Why did he get out of the service?" She moved over to the stove and dumped a handful of raw chicken into a hot skillet.
"He was on a diving trip, and something got in his eye. He didn't realize that it was a jellyfish tentacle until it had damaged his vision a little." I tossed the salad and turned to face my Friday night date. "What?"
"Is he... blind?"
"So what if he is?" I popped a cherry tomato in my mouth.
"Does he wear a patch?"
I laughed. "He's not a pirate, Ellen."
She snorted. "Why is it hot that he might look like a pirate?"
"Because you're a very sick woman. You need help. Obviously." I rolled my eyes and handed her a small bowl of salad. "He's beautiful."
"Like feminine?" She crinkled her nose. "I thought you like big strong guys."
"I do." I moved over to the fridge and got out a few different salad dressings. "He's huge. Much bigger than he was back in high school."
"Like muscles or a big dick, cause you know what they say..."
"That sugar is bad for you?" I smirked and handed her the sweetest dressing in my fridge.
"Ugh. Seriously?" She swatted my hand away. "Big muscles usually mean a little pecker."
"Pecker? Did you really just call it that?" I put the sweet dressing up and pulled out something more savory. "And just so we're clear, I didn't see his dick back then, and he certainly didn't whip it out at the restaurant the other night."
"Shame." She let out a huff.
"Agreed." I grabbed a fork and walked over to the kitchen table. After dropping down and squirting dressing all over my salad, I glanced up to find her watching me. "What are you thinking? I hate that look on your face."
"You should ask him out."
"He's half-blind."
"So what. He sounds dreamy."
"He wears a fucking eye patch." I was a horrible liar. I laughed the minute it came out of my mouth.
"He does not. You're so dumb." She walked over and sat down beside me. "Don't let me forget about the chicken."
"Fine." I poked at my salad. "Seriously though, I've had a crush on him forever, and then he just shows up at the fucking restaurant."
"What was he doing there?"
"He was on a date."
"Tell me more." She wagged her fork around and sang one of the tunes from the movie Grease. "Tell me more."
"You're single for a reason." I shook my head. "The girl he was on the date with had to have been in her early twenties."
"You're in your early twenties."
"Right, but she was like young-looking."
"Wait. Hold up." She lifted her hand in the air. "How old is this hottie?"
"He's in his early thirties. He's six or seven years older than me." I got up and walked into the kitchen to deal with the chicken. "He's honestly my prince charming."
"Does he know this?" Ellen turned and gave me a quirky smile.
"Of course not." I glanced over at her. "I'm his best friend's little sister."
"Okay. That's hot." She turned, got up and walked to the living room. "Keep talking. I'm just admiring your fucking awesome painting in here."
"His wife died a few years back, and he has a little boy that's probably around five now." I pulled the skillet off the stove and walked into the living room. "He's still very much in love with his wife, or so my brother says."
"So your brother still talks to the hottie?" She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Were they ever lovers?"
"What? No." I moved up beside her. "They were good friends. Best friends."
"And you were in love with him?" She glanced over at me.
"Still am." I shrugged. "But I'm not sure why. It's not like anything is going to ever come of it. Rhys, my brother, told me that Jeremy's mother is insanely strict and right up in the middle of his life. It's not like she would ever accept someone like me."
"Because why?" Ellen turned to face me and put her hands on her hips. "You're perfect. Like top of the charts perfect."
"Right." I glanced over at my painting. "A waitress that manages restaurants and spends her time dreaming of being a painter one day. I'm just an incredible catch for sure. No brains, barely any courage and a big ass to boot."
"Men love that ass." She shook her head and moved around. "And that painting is incredible. You're too down on yourself. It gets on my nerves."
"Up yours too." I studied the painting, seeing all of the things that were wrong with it instead of any of the things that were right. "Jeremy is the man I want in my life and my bed, but it's not going to happen."
"Why is that?"
"Because he sees me as a little sister, as a friend."
"He didn't hit on you the other night?"
I turned and walked back to the table, smiling at the memory of him pulling out his moves. "He did until he realized who I was."
"And then?" She sat back down and patted the table close to her. "Take off a load. Seriously."
"Then he went back to being sweet and kind."
"A man can't be sweet, kind and sex you up at the same time?"
"I don't know." I reached over and picked up the card from the guy at the art museum. "Maybe I should just give Edward a call. He seemed nice, and I don't know him at all. It would be a fresh start, you know?"
"Instead of overcoming years of yearning for someone and not getting them?"
"Exactly." I dropped the card. The very idea of having dinner with Edward left me cold, but it did seem like the right choice. Jeremy had too many ghosts that he carried around, and I wasn't going to be another one of them.
"New topic." Ellen took a bite of her salad and gave me a stern look. "When are we sharing your art with the world?"
I snorted. "Never."
"Virgin." She rolled her eyes. "In all ways."
"Hooker head. In one way." I laughed as she playfully jabbed at me with her fork.
"Call money bags. Go on a date and be miserable."
"It might be great."
"His balls probably rub his knees." She shook her head and stuck out her tongue.
"Maybe I like to be tea-bagged from up high." I poked at the chicken on the plate between us.
"Ugh. Gross." She pushed her plate away and leaned back. "It's Edward or your hot pirate with big muscles."
"Somehow Edward feels far more safe."
"Duh... He's not a firefighting pirate. Anything is safer than that."
"True." I turned my attention back to my dinner, ready to be done with the conversation. Jeremy wasn't going to be mine. Not ever. The best I could hope for was a friendship. It would be a start, and hopefully, I would be strong enough to be happy with nothing more than that.
I could love him from a distance.
I'd been doing it my whole life.