Present
I spent most of today trying to get yesterday out of my mind. I tried working on my manuscript, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open because I slept like shit. Eventually, I took a nap, because I couldn’t seem to concentrate on what I needed to, let alone stay awake. Paxton was the only thing on my mind. Even as I move around the kitchen, he’s all I can think about.
He was gone before I even got up this morning, so I guess we’re going back to avoiding one another. Maybe it’s easier. This way I can figure out what I’m feeling about my life…Richard…him. It’s always frustrating because I don’t have time for any of this with work piling up.
The timer on the oven sounds, so I bend over and pull the lasagna out then set it on the hot pad laid out on the marble countertop. The smell of melting cheese and oregano fills the air, and my stomach growls in approval and hunger.
“That smells amazing,” a voice compliments from behind me.
When I whip around, Paxton is standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. His arms are across his chest, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Thank you,” I respond, unsure if it’s safe to speak after our encounter last night—not to mention, I find myself reluctant to be friendly when he’s been such a jackass to me.
He unfolds his arm and steps farther into the kitchen. “Look, Cass, I’m really sorry, about yesterday and last night and New Year’s and every other time I’ve been an ass.” He smiles, and my heart opens a little. “I can’t explain why I’ve been acting the way I have, the hot and cold, the mixed signals, whatever. Let’s just forget about all that and go back to our first night here in the apartment together when we were actually getting along. Can we do that?”
It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt a little that he wants to forget because…well, just because. I guess I can put it behind me—I’ve spent years burying feelings for Paxton Luke, so why should doing it now be any different? Rolling my eyes, I jab, “You’re giving me whiplash.”
He laughs as I turn and pull a couple of plates down. I dish out a helping for each of us.
“Did I mention this smells delicious?” He’s grinning when I look over at him.
“You don’t get to do that,” I say, exasperated by his expectation that I’ll forgive him so easily.
He takes a step closer, and he smells of a woodsy sort of freshness, clean. My heart speeds up a little.
“I don’t get to do what?” he asks sincerely.
“You don’t get to flash that dimple at me, say you’re sorry, and expect all to be forgiven. I do want to put it behind us, but complete forgiveness will take a little time,” I explain, keeping my voice steady when I feel anything but.
He puts his hand on my shoulder in a casual way, but it still sends a chill across my skin. “Whatever you need, Cass.” He drops his hand.
“Thanks Pax. I may not be quite ready to forgive completely, but I must be a little bit soft tonight because I’m going to let you eat my food,” I tease.
Reaching over, he takes my hand in his, squeezing it. “Letting things just work themselves out sounds like a great idea. We both have so much going on and honestly, I don’t want or need complications. I can promise you one thing though, I want your friendship.”
I squeeze his hand back before pulling it away and turning back to making us both a plate. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want your friendship, too.”
“I’ll grab us drinks if you take our plates to the table,” he offers.
“You got a deal.” I pick up the plates and carry them to the table.
A moment later, Pax joins me, drinks in hand.
We sit across from one another, and he begins telling me a story his mom told him about their New Year’s Eve. We laugh at the situations our parents still find themselves in; it’s like they’ll never completely grow up.
As the conversation carries on, I’m more and more relaxed with Paxton and our new relationship. Maybe one day we’ll think about the near kisses and high emotions, but for now, this is good.
Just as I’m about to express those exact sentiments to Pax, my phone rings. It’s Richard. I debate answering it, but when Paxton sees who it is, he insists, teasing me about “Dick”. God, I wish he’d quit calling him that.
“Hey!” My voice is high because I’m trying to hold back laughter after Pax whispered something inappropriate about our parents just as I answered.
Richard clears his throat. “Hey, what’s so funny?” He sounds a bit off.
“Oh, Paxton and I are having dinner and he mentioned something about our parents…you know what, not necessary. What’s happening?” I realized it wouldn’t be funny to Richard at all so why bother. Also, I thought he was out of town, so I’m surprised he’s calling.
“No, really, what’s so funny?” he repeats, as if I never said a word.
The smile falls from my face, and Pax notices. He mouths What’s wrong? and I shake my head.
“Seriously, Richard, it’s nothing. Uh, is everything okay?” I can hear the annoyance in his voice but if I’m honest, I can’t bring myself to care right now. It’s like we just can’t get in sync, and it’s exhausting. He’s obviously upset, and I’m not giving him what he wants—something he isn’t used to from me.
“You tell me, Cass. Is everything okay?” His voice is harsh and condescending.
My eyebrows narrow. “Richard, hold on a minute.” Holding the phone away, I let Pax know I’ll be back. He gives me a look of concern, but I wave him off. I wait until I’m in my room before I respond to Richard. “Okay, I’m alone now.”
He laughs. “What, you couldn’t answer that question in front of Paxton?” His tone is sarcastic and unkind.
“Look, Richard, I’m not sure what is going on with you, but no, I couldn’t. Obviously you’re upset about something, and the personal aspects of our relationship are none of Paxton’s business.” I’m angry—one, because of his tone, and two, because he’s implying something without coming out and saying it. “Now, as for your question, everything is exactly as it always has been from my viewpoint. It seems you’re the one with an issue.”
Richard releases a frustrated sigh. “It just seems you and I are in different worlds lately rather than just having different ideas about how we structure this relationship. I feel like you’re farther away than you’ve ever been and Paxton is the common denominator when it comes to timing. So, I have to ask, is this coincidental, or is it more?”
When I answer, I’m not sure who I’m lying to, Richard or myself.
“Paxton has nothing to do with us, and I’ll repeat that until you understand.” I sit in a chair in the corner of the bedroom. “Look, I know I have been all over the place for months. It’s just the two of us, we’re so…so…I don’t know, but I’m trying to figure out how we work now and in the future. I thought you understood.” Although this is how we’ve always worked, I can admit—at least to myself—that recently I’ve been even more distant than normal.
“I do, but it seems like more lately, more than you’re admitting.” There it is. Maybe he’s more intuitive to my feelings than I’ve given him credit for over the years. Now instead of agitated, Richard sounds resigned. “I’m sorry I’m being an ass. I know we’re not really together so even if I wanted to be pissed about Paxton, I don’t have the right, but Cassandra, you’ve been my girl for a long time. I can’t think of a time I ever felt like I was sharing you with someone else.”
I hear him. I know what he’s saying, and he’s right. I’ve never shown interest in anyone else in the last five years of our off-and-on relationship. He never knew there to be anyone else, and why should he have? There really wasn’t, even if Paxton was always there. It was easy to maneuver around his ghost.
“Let’s have dinner when you get back in a few days, okay? We can talk then, and I promise we’ll figure this all out.” I mean it. I want to figure this out so I can feel normal again because between fighting with him and Pax, I’m exhausted.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be home around four on Thursday afternoon so I’ll swing by at five for an early dinner.”
“Perfect! I'll be ready.” We both sound more cheerful, but lately, there is always an underlying threat to the comfort between us. “Bye Richard. See you when you get back.”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I’m unsure if he hung up. Then he finally speaks. “Cassandra, again, I’m sorry I was a jackass.”
“Richard, stop. I’ll see you Thursday,” I insist.
“Bye,” he says, hanging up the phone before I respond.
Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by a feeling that something has shifted between us, that there’s something we both know we need to do. I only know I want to be fair, to myself and to him.
When I go back out to the living room, Pax is surfing channels.
“Hey, everything okay?” he asks without turning his head to look at me.
As I step around the couch and into his view, he looks up at me. “Yeah…yeah, all is good. I’m sorry I left you to clean up the mess.” He watches me carefully. “Let’s watch a movie. I’ll grab the ice cream.”