Maybe it was their history, or maybe it was the fact that Cheri was still coming off a couple months of rippin’ and runnin, but something about the fact that Thomas had to stop by his place before heading to work just struck a paranoid note within her. It shouldn’t matter. But everything was hard to deal with. They’d been horrible to each other. He wasn’t the only one. Yes, what he’d done was stupid, selfish, full dick-head stupidity and on a good day she would have walked away forever. However, she’d reacted like an idiot. Her drinking, sleeping around, and own stupidity wasn’t Thomas’ fault. She was responsible
Expecting everything to be back to normal, back to 100 percent in just a day or two was a little too…unrealistic. Don’t be naïve, Cheri.
The truth was, she had never fully realized her own personal insecurities until she met Thomas Graham. When she first laid eyes on him, If only was the first thing that came to mind, followed immediately by, No, this one’s out of my league. Cheri knew she was unquestionably attractive, but even as that handsome stranger planted an uninvited kiss on her after he rescued her from the mugger in the metro, she didn’t feel in her heart of hearts like she was truly his type. She was convinced Thomas needed someone else, a centerfold or catwalk lingerie model, and that wasn’t her. One of her former co-workers was one of Thomas’s friends with benefits. She’d assumed Thomas’s type was the kind of woman who was okay with no-strings-attached hookups.
Cheri had come to discover that she wasn’t okay with that. If Thomas wanted that, then things were not going to work out for them, no matter how much she was in love with him. The woman he’d picked up at the bar and brought home was nobody special, but she had looked far more at ease with Thomas than Cheri had ever felt in her entire life.
She wanted to not care. She wanted to believe in herself and be happy. She wanted Thomas to be a part of that, but there were changes they both had to make.
Thomas had been so secretive when they first met, a bad boy who didn’t want anyone to get close to him. And for the longest time, he wouldn’t allow himself to have a real relationship with her. As she fell for him, began to see him as more of a saint than a sinner, it both hurt her and pissed her off, to the point where she sought solace in the bottom of a whisky bottle.
Now she had been through the emotional and intoxicated wringer enough to realize that Thomas was right, that allowing him into her life in a deeply personal way could be a threat to her new commitment to avoid self-destruction. She had to be careful, to try to remain stable and level and offer rational, reasonable responses and reactions to what he said and did. So, as a first step to calming her head and body down in the wake of his touch and that difficult conversation, she let herself be comforted by the warm waters of a bath instead of her usual stimulating shower.
Small steps. It was a start in moving forward.
Cheri washed her body from head to toe, taking time to pamper herself, and she felt amazing and positive as she dried herself off. It had been a long time since she had focused on comfort, and she decided that was going to be the first thing on her wish list, something she wanted to be a part of her life as she moved forward.
She stripped her bed and laundered the sheets. Thomas had told her they shouldn’t have sex for a while, but she still wanted to be ready, just in case a delicious moment of weakness presented itself. She paused as she closed the lid of the washing machine, and she actually embraced herself with a much-needed hug. As she did so, vivid flashes of her night with Thomas rolled through her body and head, recollections of the closeness with his beautiful body, remembrances of the rapture of being held in his arms and loved by him. Recalling their sexual encounters made for addictive, sweet daydreams, so she took a moment to enjoy that, too.
Feeling positive and accomplished, with her morning chores out of the way, she hunkered down to square up her life. She made calls to the head-hunter who had placed her at her prior job, then sent off a fresh résumé. As she did so, her mind wandered back to her previous employment as a paralegal. It would solve everything if they’d just ask me to come back. Then I could work toward what I really want to do.
Even though she knew Thomas was wise in telling her to take some time to really think about it, Cheri drafted a letter to her former boss, under the pretense of apologizing for her behavior and ensuring them that she was on the mend and hoped to make amends. She reviewed the letter and rewrote it, then continued editing it until she came up with a very tight, concise apology and explanation that she was sure would win her boss over. Then, despite Thomas’s advice and her better judgment, Cheri sent the email to her old boss.
She felt very good about everything and was sure she was merely opening a door that wasn’t really closed. Now that I’ve straightened up my act, they have to take me back, she told herself. Why wouldn’t they? After all, she’d worked there for eight long years, as an exemplary employee with the firm. Her performance reviews were always excellent, and she got along well with her co-workers, even that nasty old Marlene, who insisted on stirring up drama every minute. Surely I can’t be the first person in the history of the firm to go off the deep end, she thought.
She was nervous after sending the letter, but that did nothing to compare to the onslaught of anxiety she felt when she received a very quick response, something she shouldn’t have read on her own, while she was so vulnerable and still on shaky ground emotionally, in the throes of detox and all the mental confusion that came along with it. She had no idea the feelings of her former employer were so strong, but the reply dripped with blatant animosity. To make matters worse, the communication ended with a brash, “Please do not contact this firm or any of our associates again.”
Cheri thought long and hard about what she could have possibly done to warrant such a harsh response to her apology. All I really did was call in too much, she thought, as she was unable to recall any other violations. She was too upset to read the reply word for word, literally shaking as she skimmed it, but her eyes caught “…your behavior…” and “…inexcusable…” before she closed the email. Those same eyes brimmed with tears once again, and she felt just awful about herself.
She tried to reply with another apology, but her email bounced back, blocked forever. She tried to chalk it up to lesson learned, but she couldn’t shake it off. They had put up a firewall against her, and that hurt her to the core.
The experience seemed to grip her physically as well as mentally and emotionally, with a cruel hold of worry and self-doubt that had her scrambling for relief. Thomas had gotten rid of all the alcohol in the house, even found all her secret stashes while he was having the house restored, so she was not in danger of doing anything silly, but her feelings were almost impossible to contend with. She wasn’t sure she could bear it. That email derailed her completely from any serenity she’d managed to find, and it certainly wrecked her plans for the day.
Cheri tried to focus on what was in front of her. She picked up a pen and paper and began jotting down what she wanted from a job, but it was a useless effort because her mind was far too cluttered to ponder things like hope or a brighter future. To perform a little reverse psychology on herself, she instead scribbled down all the things she didn’t like about the last job, with nosy Marlene and Thomas’s hook-up buddy at the top, along with that stupid dress code that forced her to wear sweaters over her cute dresses, and it worked miraculously. A small smile even managed to creep across her face as she realized she was actually glad she wasn’t there.
“And another thing, it’s kind of nice to be home,” she muttered as she opened the curtains to let the amber-colored autumn light stream in. Her place was beautiful, so she wrote that at the top of the pros column. “I could work from here, have an office in my house like Thomas does.”
As soon as that thought hit her, though, Cheri was socked with another wave of bad feelings: remembrances of his place, the office, the woman he brought home, and the credit cards Cheri had taken. She felt so triggered, so vulnerable, and she wasn’t doing as well as she thought when she stepped out of that refreshing bath that morning. She certainly didn’t want to pester Thomas and call him too much, to whine about every little thing, but he was her only support so she texted a quick confession: “I didn’t listen to you.”
“What? Are you drinking?” he replied.
It was not the response she even imagined she would get from him; she just assumed he would naturally think she was talking about her old job, and his passive-aggressive, unspoken accusation was a bit of a slap in the face. “No,” she wrote, “and it hurts you’d assume that. I haven’t fallen or jumped off the wagon, Thomas…and I won’t.”
A few seconds later the phone rang, and his name showed up on the caller ID.
“Hello,” she said quietly, sounding none too thrilled with him.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m so sorry about that. What is it that you didn’t listen to me about? I just assumed—”
“You know what they say about those who assume, Thomas. It makes an ass out of you and me,” she said, not even bothering to punctuate the pun with a laugh.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. What happened?”
If his voice wasn’t so soothing and calming she would have been beside herself but, instead, she admitted, “I contacted my old boss.”
“Oh. Shit. Look, why don’t you come down here and have lunch with me? Put on a dress, something that makes you feel pretty,” he said. “Not that you need the help.”
Ignoring the compliment and continuing her sulking, Cheri answered, “That’ll only lead to sex, Thomas, and we aren’t supposed to.”
Thomas laughed. “You’re probably right, darling, but come anyway.”
“See? You’re already giving me dirty commands,” she tried to joke, but it didn’t really sound funny in light of the tension oozing through her.
Thomas, on the other hand, chuckled. “Just do it,” he said, followed immediately by, “Oops. Did it again.”
“I shouldn’t,” she argued. “Besides, you don’t have time to hold my hand. I’m a big girl, and I need to start acting like it.”
“Hey,” he said, “if I asked you, it means I have the time.”
“So, I’m not being a bother?” she asked tentatively.
“You need to trust yourself, and me, too, Cheri,” he said, melting her with the tone of his voice.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
“Gee, Thomas, conceited much?”
“Nope. Just…convinced.”