Maybe that’s the beauty in all this uncertainty:
We can see the picture so clearly,
We could frame it and hang it above a fireplace.
We’ll look back on this “almost”
And know we’d nearly touched the stars.
Day 1
I don’t think anyone’s ever ready to end a relationship. There’s no real guide to this chapter closing thing.
Still, as I ignore Jordan’s incessant chatter, I’m so ready to get it over with. I wasn’t proud of the time we’d spent together. The time we’d wasted knowing we weren’t right for each other. I’m surprised he hadn’t complained when I arrived late.
“Denise?”
I look up from my soda. The bubbles trying to escape the glass and I were kindred spirits. I’d do anything to float away.
“What’s up?” I ask with a small, quick smile.
He sucks his teeth, the perfect white ones that look too bright against his beautifully even brown skin.
“Were you even listening?”
“Of course not,” I answer, looking at the ceiling with a chuckle. “Look, Jord—”
“I was talking about us really trying for a baby.” He grabs the hand I was reaching for my soda with. “I think it’s time.”
“Of course you do.” I squeeze his fingers before I pull my hand away.
It wasn’t like we’d been trying. But we hadn’t been not trying, either. It was this, ‘if it happens, it happens,’ situation. Considering it’s been weeks since the last time we slept together, I feel suffocated by his attempt at permanently attaching himself to me. In my eyes, there’s a reason a baby never came.
We are ill-suited.
“Denise, don’t be like that.” His disapproving tone makes the childish part of me want to join in on this date.
“I’m not being like anything. Just being honest. We don’t work. You want to focus on yourself right now and that’s okay. But wanting to give me a baby just to make sure I stick around isn’t what I want for my life. I’d like to think I deserve more.”
“So, you’re admitting that you’re selfish?”
Don’t react, don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Let’s just call it over and skip the insults.” I move to get up, but our waitress is setting down a dish he’d ordered, apparently while he suffered my tardiness.
And that’s how Jordan ends up with a lapful of Pakistani food.
I hear yelling from a very angry Jordan and the waitress stands there, stunned, as he aims insults at her.
“Come on,” I say.
“Shut up, Denise,” he says to me.
I’m gearing up to aim insults at him that would make my potty-mouthed sister proud, when a voice cuts through the chaos.
“Is there a problem here?”
All eyes fall on the newcomer. Mine is the only jaw that drops, though. I think. I’m too busy staring to see everyone else’s reaction.
Thick facial hair covering the lower half of his face, perfect caramel skin, light brown eyes; this man looks as delicious as I hear the food they serve here is.
Jordan starts speaking loudly to him, now. But the man isn’t having it.
“I saw the entire thing, sir. And I don’t appreciate you disrespecting my employee.” Jordan tries to speak but the man cuts him off. “I’m not going to ask you to leave, I’m telling you. Leave.”
“I’ve never been so disrespected. I’d like to speak to the owner.”
“I am the owner,” the man says, and Jordan bangs his fists on the table.
Over their argument, I’m eyeing the owner, a smirk on my face. When he rolls his eyes to the sky, I snort a laugh and Jordan glares at me.
While this man looks like a slice of perfection, I’m becoming increasingly embarrassed by Jordan’s righteous indignation.
I came to end things with Jordan and since that seems to be accomplished, it’s time for me to go.
“This has been fun and all . . .” I push the chair back and I’m a little unsteady on my feet. The owner, in an attempt to keep me from falling, grabs at me and manages to knock my soda over. All over the front of my new forest green wrap dress.
Brown liquid drips from my dress, down to my toes, making me cringe at the feeling of moisture pooling in my strappy heeled sandals. My mouth is open, and I haven’t moved when the owner grabs a napkin from the table and starts to wipe at me. Right where my crotch is located.
While I’d had a split-second fantasy about getting him close to that region, I hadn’t expected it so quickly.
I burst out laughing. Jordan scoots back and tosses his napkin on the table. As he storms out, I wipe at the tears from my eyes.
“What a gentleman,” I murmur, mirth still in my voice as I pull out my debit card.
“No, no. You don’t have to,” I’m told as his hand touches mine to stop me. I look up and he’s giving me this lopsided little grin, a hint of an apology in his brown eyes.
“I guess I can stop by Taco Bell or something on my way home. Thanks anyway.” I gather my things, grimacing at the feel of the damp material against my skin.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll bring something out?”
I pause, weighing the options. It couldn’t hurt to stay in his company. Certainly didn’t want to walk around looking like I’d pissed myself.
“You sure?” I turn back to face him and gauge his expression.
His smile is friendly with a hint of flirtatiousness. Newly single me appreciates the way his eyes appreciate me.
“Absolutely,” he answers easily. “My name’s Gavin.”
He holds a hand out and I take it. Not much of a handshake as we size each other up. I pull mine away with a smile.
“Gavin, huh? Nice name.”
He holds my stare, eyes unblinking and lips twitching with a smile wanting to grow. I remember he’s waiting for my name.
“Mine’s Denise.”
“Never met a Denise before.”
He places his hand on the back of the chair to brace himself.
“I’m the only one that counts,” I tell him and take a seat on the chair he’s touching. I reach for the napkin Jordan discarded, dabbing at the stain, hoping it’ll at least dry soon.
I hear him laugh as he walks away, and I wonder what the hell I’m getting myself into. My phone vibrates.
Sabrina: Break up with the tool yet?
Me: Yup. And met a hot guy while doing it.
I set my phone down and reach for the menu just as Gavin returns with a fresh soda.
“Take your time. Wave anyone over when you know what you want.”
He walks away, and my phone vibrates again, interrupting the very inappropriate response sitting on my tongue at the sight of his ass.
Sabrina: Well, shit. Look at you go.
I wave the waitress over and ask her where Gavin went. When she points toward the back, I grab my things and head in that direction, despite the sputtering coming from her mouth and the stain still making my dress stick to my skin and panties underneath.
I walk into the kitchen and he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me.
“I figured I’d come see what it was like back here instead.”
“You’re more than welcome.” He pulls up a stool. “Have a seat.”
There are pots and pans and food everywhere. Gavin mans the prepping, it seems, while the rest of the food simmers under the staff’s watchful eyes.
“So . . . what’s the deal?”
Gavin’s hands move methodically and without thought. His fingers grip the knife and he looks up at me, waiting for an answer.
“With?”
Sitting so close to the counter like this, I have unfettered access to his profile. There’s a bump on the bridge of his nose. I wonder if it’s genetics or if he was ever an adventurous little boy. Perhaps a confrontational young man?
I wonder and more and more, I yearn for the knowledge.
“The guy.”
Lips pressed together, eyes squinted a little, he catches the way my features have displayed my curiosity.
“It’s a compliment that you want to know.”
He shrugs, and it does nothing to stop his working hands.
“You’re here. I’m here. He’s not.”
I’m quiet.
“Is it not natural to wonder?” he asks.
This time, I laugh.
“I’m not entirely sure what’s natural,” I answer.
“Whatever we’re doing. Who cares?”
All while he cooks, we go back and forth, talking about anything that comes to mind. I’ve always enjoyed engaging in less than strategic conversations so I tell him as much.
“You’re good at conversation,” he tells me as he sets a dish in front of me. “It’s attractive.”
“Thanks,” I say before I start eating. After a few bites, I ask him what he’s eating.
“Just some braised beef. It isn’t on the menu, but I get tired of eating the same thing every day.”
“It looks really good.”
I’m halfway done with my chicken and I’ve got my eyes on his plate.
“I always want to try more than one dish. It gets me into trouble.”
“I have a solution.” He smiles and swaps plates with me. “Now you can try both.”
I’m all smiles as I dig in and oh, it was a great idea to switch meals. This man is a genius in the kitchen.
We talk and talk and eat and before I know it, he’s opening a bottle of wine.
It isn’t until the last of his staff is gone that I’m noticing just how empty this place is. I glance around, the wine glass almost at my lips, and offer him a smile. I start with a smile because he doesn’t know how this will end. But I think I might.
I plan on giving my body to Gavin.
And never seeing him again.
“You look like you’re planning to take over the world,” he tells me as he pours more wine into the glass I’ve set down.
“I’m looking for the best way to tell you that I want to have sex with you.”
He takes what I say in stride, like this is completely normal, his smile easygoing and his eyes unflinching. I love his eyes. They’re dangerous for my purposes because I love them already and loving one part of him could give way to loving all of him.
I only want to love him tonight.
“Why rely on words?” He shrugs, and I push the glass away to hop on the counter. He wordlessly moves between my thighs.
“Make it unforgettable,” I whisper before dipping down to kiss him. One press, two, and then another. He tastes as intoxicating as the wine.
“Isn’t it already?” he asks and then he’s sliding the hands on my thighs up, up, up until I’m breathless. He avoids touching me where I expect him to, merely peeling my panties down. They get caught on one of my heels and he leaves it dangling there. “I doubt I’ll ever forget this.”
I want to tell him to shut up, but I don’t have the chance because then his face is beneath my dress and I feel the same way he does. I won’t ever forget this even if life turns me into someone I barely recognize. I’m holding onto the way he feels the same way I’m holding onto the counter.
Every hurt hidden in my body shifts to make room for the memories I’m making with Gavin. He feels so good and warm and perfectly made for this moment.
When he looks up at me, those eyes burn holes in my armor. He stares like his eyes had always been looking for mine, and I know . . . fuck. I can tell that this, whatever this is, will kill this hard-hearted part of me if I give him anything more than tonight.
Once I come, panting in the aftershocks, he heads to the restroom to clean up.
And before I can second-guess my decision, I leave, only my empty glass showing that I was ever there.
Some sort of twisted Cinderella.