Chase sticks his head back into the room and excuses us, his warm hand still enveloping mine, causing little tingles where our skin is pressed together. Then he practically drags me out of the building and down the sidewalk in front of the downtown community center. We cross under the L and stop at a small hot dog vendor at the edge of Grant Park. Irritation is giving way to full-blown anger again as the wind off the lake begins to whip my hair around. I try desperately to smooth it back into place, but I know it’s no use. I even used that extra layer of hairspray I’d forgotten a few days ago.
Chase orders two dogs with the works and I wrinkle my nose at the mess wrapped in foil the vendor hands over. He gives the guy money and I tamp down my instinct to not let anyone do anything for me. If he’s going to force me to eat that, he can damn well pay for it. Jackass.
His arm loops through mine, applying pressure to keep ahold of me when I try to pull away and walks us over to the big, exquisite fountain, with the wide rim used like a park bench by the pedestrians milling around. He sits and tugs me down next to him, passing me one of the dogs. I unwrap it gingerly, as though any minute it’s going to jump out and bite me.
“Come on, Tori. Just give it a chance. It’ll melt some of your worries away. I promise.” His chocolate brown eyes take on the look of a puppy dog, the stylish, black-rimmed glasses framing them. I fight back a small smile, determined not to let him get to me.
“Fine.” I sigh long and loud, then bring the treat to my lips and inhale the savory smell of the beef. Holy hell. I’d forgotten how that scent alone could make my mouth water. Taking a bite, I suppress another sigh of bliss, but I’m not able to keep myself from closing my eyes and reveling in the taste of my childhood.
When I was young, my father would pull me out of school a couple of times a year and bring me to the city. We’d ride the metro from the suburbs and spend the day exploring. Just us. Sometimes, we visited a museum or went to a musical, the zoo, Navy Pier, all of the places a tourist should hit and many of which natives never take the time to enjoy. They are some of my most treasured memories, and I know it would have been the same for Ben and Sarah. That thought brings my reverie to a screeching halt.
My eyes open and I glance over to see Chase staring at me, his mouth slightly ajar, and an odd look on his beautiful face. And, damn, this guy is fucking gorgeous. When I first spied him upon my entrance to group, I was struck speechless for a moment. My stomach clenching at the god sitting in a stupid, plastic chair. When I could think again, I stalked over to sit by him, figuring he was in the same boat as me, attending under duress. His dark brown hair flopped over his forehead a little messy in a way that said he was constantly running his fingers through it. His glasses, somewhere between preppy and nerd, were perched on his straight nose, accentuating his high cheek bones, full lips, and velvety brown eyes, with dark lashes that I completely coveted. As if that stunning face wasn’t enough, he wore a blue, long sleeve, Henley thermal, with the top two buttons undone, exposing the cords of his neck—since when is a neck sexy?—and the fabric tugging slightly over his defined chest and arms. His long, jean-clad legs extended out far in front of him, his height making a mockery of the small, tan chair.
To make matters completely worse, when he finally stood to start class—the jerk—I got an eye full of the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something, considering the amount of athletes I represent. His now slightly open mouth highlights a row of straight white teeth. Is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy as fuck? When he notices my returned stare, a smile breaks out on his face and a—Oh shit, I’m so screwed—dimple pops out on his left cheek. To my surprise, heat starts to burn low in my belly and I shift uncomfortably at the signs of physical attraction that are somewhat foreign to me after all of these years. Guilt suffuses me. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Isn’t that a betrayal to Ben?
“You haven’t truly enjoyed anything in a long time, have you?” Chase’s soft voice breaks the connection. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a sexy expression on a woman’s face. Maybe that’s stepping over the line.” An adorable pink tinges his cheeks. “But I get the feeling that stepping into your space is the only way to pull you out of it.”
I squirm a little at the way he’s looking so deeply into my eyes, praying that he isn’t seeing into my soul. I don’t want anyone to see how broken I am. I straighten my spine and give him an icy glare, “You can step wherever you want… that doesn’t mean you’re going to get anywhere.”
I don’t get the reaction I’m expecting. His smile widens and he winks at me, continuing to melt my frozen exterior one icicle at a time. “We’ll see,” he whispers.
I’m so done with this. I change the subject and go back to munching on my snack. “What is it you do, when you’re not giving hapless people a false sense of hope in finding closure, of course?” My arrow hits the intended target, and a brief look of annoyance flashes in his eyes. Instead of triumph, I feel sad that I wiped the smile off of his face.
“I’m a professor at UC.”
“Go, Maroons,” I quip, mockingly, but without any bite.
His brows raise in surprise. “You’re an alum?”
I nod, taking another bite of the messy goodness. One bite left, I sigh internally, disappointed that my moment is almost over. “UC law? Impressive,” he states.
I frown, I don’t like talking about myself, “What do you teach?”
“Evolution and Economics of Human Behavior.”
I suppress a groan. Great, the guy is practically a shrink.
“Leading the grief group came pretty naturally, especially since it helped me so much when I was in the same boat. Still am sometimes, I guess.”
Another bit of me defrosts. I wonder who he lost, but I’m trying not to care, so I don’t ask. I take my last bite of heaven and ball up my trash, then wipe my hands down with a wet nap, before checking to make sure my clothes are still spotless.
“Why divorce law, Tori?”
I make a frustrated noise. “It’s Victoria, and I think we’ve had enough analyzing for the day. Don’t you?”
Chase laughs, and the sound is contagious, causing a small smile to turn my lips up before I can suppress it. He grabs my hand and when I tug lightly to pull away, he squeezes it gently. “This wasn’t analyzing, Tori. It was simply getting to know you. I’m not your teacher or your therapist, but I’d very much like to be your friend, and I think you need one desperately.”
He clearly hasn’t gotten to know me.
“I don’t have friends. I don’t need anybody. I’ve done just fine on my own for nearly ten years now. It works for me.”
Chase squeezes my hand again. “Does it?”
He lets go, then stands and offers me his hand to help me up. I take it because it’s the lady-like thing to do, but am shocked when he pulls me in for another embrace and speaks quietly in my ear, “Are you really living, Tori? I think you’ve been hiding and it’s time for you to live. They would want that for you, you know.”
I don’t respond. I want to lash out in anger, but I’m consumed with sorrow, leaving little room for the resentment I’m trying to cling to.
Would they? Would they want me to go on without them, as though they never were?
Stepping out of his embrace, I nod, giving him the impression that I agree. Like before, his probing eyes study me and I get the impression that I haven’t fooled him in the least.
“Well,” I say awkwardly, “I’ll, um, see you next week.”
I start to pull away, but he tightens his arms just a fraction, and shivers—those damn shivers—race down my spine.
“Have lunch with me this week.”
I shake my head vehemently, afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll agree. It seems like Chase could make me feel things, and I don’t like to feel anything.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to spend time with me? The ice queen?” He raises an eyebrow at me in challenge.
I’m a grown woman, not a child who can’t refuse a dare. I open my mouth to tell him this, “Fine.”
What? My inner self screeches. Shit. I knew if I opened my mouth…
“Great!” Chase beams at me. “How about Wednesday?”
I run through my calendar in my head.
“The only time I have is on Tuesday.”
Chase’s face falls suddenly, a frown marring the perfection, looking over my shoulder and into the distance. His arms drop and he is no longer holding me. I feel a sense of loss and loneliness steal over me. He shakes his head, swallowing hard, and returns his gaze to mine, stopping the movement when they connect.
“Okay, Tuesday it is. I’ll meet you at your office at noon.”
I shift my weight from foot to foot, over thinking what it would look like if I left my office with a guy. Would it revoke my membership in the bitch club? Or make my co-workers think I’m approachable? I stop and roll my eyes at my train of thought. Since when do I care what people think? It’s not like they have the power to hurt me. “All right. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Noon. See you then.”
Chase is back to beaming at me and I am transfixed by the expression for several moments. I’m struck even more when I feel a return smile sliding across my face. It’s an odd stretch on the muscles. Has it been that long since I used them?
He walks me back to the center, and as if my world wasn’t already tilting on its axis, it begins to spin when Chase quickly hauls me back into his arms and places a soft kiss on my cheek before abruptly letting go.
“Tuesday,” he winks and strolls off down the sidewalk.
I spend most of Sunday cleaning my house from top to bottom, the mindless work keeping me from second-guessing my decision to have lunch with Chase. In the late afternoon, I shower and get ready to make my weekly sojourn into the past. For the most part, this trip is why I still have a car. It’s not like I use it to go to my childhood home frequently, or at all if I can help it.
Grabbing my keys and a light sweater, I trudge down to the garage and get into my blue Prius and head east to the town where I grew up. I pull off the freeway and drive the quiet streets to the Meadowland Cemetery. The plots are in the section on the left, so I turn and park on the side of the street, then reach back to get the little something I brought. The sound of the car door closing echoes in the silence, a cloud of melancholy shades the wide open spaces.
Three rows down, two rows over, the third plot in. I stop in front of a marble, gray headstone and the smaller one just beside it. There is a third plot, just waiting for me, on the other side of my little Sarah. As I do every week, I wish fervently that I could have my yesterday back, and if not, I wish that they had filled all three spots that day. There are small bouquets of flowers in front of each stone, as there are most weeks, and I dip to lay my lavender roses on the grass in front of Ben, and sweet purple daisies for my little girl.
“I miss you both, so much it hurts.”
I’ve long since stopped crying, but today there is a crack in the dam and the floodgates threaten to open. I’m confused. I sit at their feet and wonder at what they are thinking. Are they living somewhere? Can they see me?
“Am I living, baby girl? How can I when you never got the chance?”
Nothing but silence whispers on the breeze. “I could never replace either of you, so what am I thinking letting that man get in my head?”
Again, no answer.
I sigh and stand, brushing the blades of grass from my ratty jeans. Sunday is the only day I let my hair down—figuratively speaking, but at least it’s in a messy ponytail—and dress as though I don’t have a permanent stick up my ass. I blow them both kisses and with a heavy heart, I start the walk back to my car. My heart thuds hard for a moment so I look back. I miss them every day, but for the first time in ten years, I’m walking away from their graves without a crushing sense of guilt.