He holds up pizza. “Thought maybe we could do the pizza tonight … continue our conversation.”
Coen comes around the corner and stops when he sees us in my doorway.
“Hey…” he says, with a tentative smile.
“Coen, this is my friend, Saul. Saul, this is Coen.” I wave my arm between the two of them. “Saul was just stopping by.”
“So you’re the coffee shop guy,” Saul says.
Coen nods. “Yep, that’s me.” He has a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and two bags of food from MD Kitchen. “Looks like we’re on the same wavelength.” He motions to the pizza. “I brought shrimp parmigiana and spaghetti with meatballs.” He looks at me with a grin. “I wasn’t positive how you felt about shrimp, so…”
“I love it. Sounds wonderful.” I take the bags from him and we both look at Saul.
He shifts uncomfortably on both feet and is about to say something when Coen speaks up.
“I brought plenty of food—should we open this bottle of wine and get after it?”
“I should get going,” Saul mutters. “Unless—do you want to add some pizza in the mix?”
There’s a beat of quiet.
Coen looks at me and smiles. “Okay by me.”
I sigh and give Coen’s arm a squeeze.
“All right. Come on in,” I tell them both, opening my door wide. “I guess my diet will have to start tomorrow.” I take the bags from Coen.
“Oh please, you don’t need to go on a diet,” Coen says.
I grin at Coen and lift an eyebrow at Saul. He lifts his right back. His eyes look a little more mischievous than I’m comfortable with.
“You look good with a little extra meat on your bones,” Saul says, nodding.
I glare at him. “I knew you were just waiting to throw in that I’m heavier,” I snap at him under my breath.
There is one thing I know about the women Saul favors. Twigs. He likes twigs. Preferably twigs with booty … more like what I was about 25 pounds ago. Being short, there are only so many places it can go.
“Your ass is looking pretty damn good from here,” he whispers in my ear.
I look to see if Coen heard him. He didn’t, thank God. He’s opening the bottle of wine.
I give Saul another glare and whisper, “Stop it.”
He shrugs.
“I mean it, Saul.”
He grins so big his eyes practically disappear. Instead of finding it charming and irresistible, I want to punch his slightly too big nose and make it a little more crooked than it already is.
I add another plate to the table and get three wine glasses. Coen sets the food on the table.
“Thanks, Coen,” I tell him gratefully. “I mean it, thank you,” I whisper.
“I’m happy to meet some of your friends. You’ve seen part of my clan,” he says. “In fact, my sister and Melissa are wanting to know when they can see you again. I think they’re trying to sabotage me.” He laughs.
“I’d love to see them … and how could they possibly sabotage you? You’re perfect.”
I hear Saul snort at my comment right before we sit down.
“Oh, the sooner we get you together, the better … they may as well be the ones to break it to you,” Coen says.
“What—your dirty secrets?” I tease. “Definitely. Should we call them right now?”
“No! Give me one more night of perfection,” he says.
His eyes twinkle as he looks at me. Saul clears his throat.
“So what is it you’re hiding?” Saul asks, looking directly at Coen.
Coen laughs until he realizes Saul is serious.
“Saul…” I start.
“What? What’s wrong with asking that?” Saul practically growls.
“I’m not hiding anything,” Coen responds. “No need to.”
“Seems like if you have nothing to hide then maybe you haven’t lived much,” Saul says.
“I’ve lived plenty,” Coen says. “So wait, which is it—bad if I’m hiding something or bad if I’m not?” He smiles at Saul and leans back in his chair.
“What are you—21?”
“Saul, enough with the interrogation!” I interrupt.
“I’m 25. How about you?”
Saul nods with a yeah, that figures expression on his face.
“Who wants some of this?” I interrupt again, putting shrimp parmigiana on my plate. “This looks so good.”
Coen seems fully aware of the tension now. I feel bad that I ever let Saul in the door. Saul doesn’t bother telling Coen his age. He scoops food into his mouth and downs his wine. I take a couple of bites and try to think of anything to make this less uncomfortable.
Saul stands up from the table. “I’ll get going. Thanks for sharing the pasta.”
Coen stands up and holds out his hand. “It’s all good, man. Hope to see you around again.”
“Yeah,” Saul mutters and grabs his coat.
I walk behind him to the door. “Thanks for the pizza,” I say quietly. I hate to see him leaving upset, but I’m relieved that he’s going.
“I shouldn’t have stayed.” He opens the door and turns to face me. “I wish you wouldn’t do this, Maby,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Why can’t you see what’s right in front of you? What’s been right in front of you all along?”
My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Saul. Right now, though, it seems like too little, too late.”
“Don’t give up on me, Maby. Please. Not yet.” And with that, he walks away.
I stand for a minute in the doorway and then walk back to the table. Coen looks up at me.
“I’m sorry about all that,” I say quietly.
“I think I blew his plan for the night,” Coen says and then cringes. “I-uh, are you seeing him?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“I used to,” I admit.
I sit down at the table and push the food around on my plate.
“And then what happened?” He leans forward.
“I went out with you.”
His eyes light up and he exhales. “God, so … I’m still in the running?” He quirks his head to the side and stares at me.
“Oh, you’re right up there,” I tell him.
He picks up my hand and kisses it. “That would explain his general disgust where I’m concerned,” Coen says, gritting his teeth through his smile. “I can’t say that I really blame him. I mean … you’re lovely, Maby.”
“Here’s the thing. I’m not. I’ve got a lot of … weirdness. I’m pretty sure you’ll run when you see that side of me.” I try to sound lighthearted even though I’m speaking the cold, honest truth. “I have not had good luck with relationships. I haven’t even gone on a date in a year. I’m not complaining. I’m just not exactly sane, Coen.”
His eyes are so kind. I know that I can’t keep it from him any longer. He deserves to know that he’s trying to walk straight into the eye of a hurricane.
I take a deep breath and let the words rush out: “I count things.” I watch his reaction and when there is none, I wait for what I said to register. “I count, like … obsessively. It takes over my life sometimes. Well, pretty much every day, it takes over in some way. And that’s not all. I struggle with depression, especially this past year with my mom and all. But even before that … I’m a mess…” I trail off.
His thumb rubs circles on my hand while he waits for me to say more.
“It all sounds so trivial for me to say it outright, but trust me, it isn’t. I’m actually a huge risk that I’m not sure anyone should take.” I bite my lip when it starts to feel the slightest bit wobbly. I’m determined not to wreck this confession fest by crying. That would just further solidify everything I’m telling him, and I’d prefer for him to have time to think about it, rather than driving the point home. Also, I know once I start, I won’t be able to stop.
He’s quiet for a minute or two, stroking the inside of my wris
t until it makes me shiver.
“How about this?” he asks. “How about you let me decide the risk I’m willing to take? No one is perfect. I’m certainly not. I have had pretty good luck with my intuition though, and I’ve always had a really good feeling about you.”
He stands up and gives my hand a tug, so I stand up with him. He leans his forehead on mine.
“Thank you for telling me, Maby.” He leans back so he can look in my eyes. “And remember how we were talking about my balls earlier?” he whispers with a grin.
I nod, turning a deep red.
“I’m not afraid.”
We kiss then and it’s so good, my legs threaten to buckle. The guy makes me go weak all over. His full lips tease mine and I lose my mind in his tongue. But a tiny, nagging thought whispers away at me as we kiss.
I have enough fear for the both of us.
WE MOVE OVER to the couch, never breaking the kiss. He leans me back and kisses my neck.
“I’ve been dying to do this since you cut your hair off,” he whispers. “Your skin feels like satin.”
He unbuttons a couple of buttons to my shirt and slowly works his way lower. I hold onto his curly hair and when he presses the full length of his body on mine, I think I’m going to come unglued.
I can’t help it, I moan. “Mmm, you feel so good.”
I feel his body respond to that and he looks at me, dazed, before crushing me with his mouth. The lower half of my body is drawn to his and we both strain to feel as much as possible through our clothes. It would all be very high school except I didn’t feel anything close to this in high school, college, or in a single make out session with Dalton. He was never as leisurely as Coen is being. Coen is unbuttoning more buttons and his tongue is gliding down with each new opening of my shirt.
I pull off his shirt as he unbuttons my last button. His skin is smooth and muscled. He pulls back to open my shirt all the way and I stare at him in awe.
“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper.
He’s staring at me the same way. What the hell is happening here?
He runs his fingers down my skin … over the swell of my breasts, down my stomach. His eyes wander back up to my breasts and he fingers my nipples through my bra. My eyes close of their own will and I arch my back to give him more. Before I know it my bra is on the floor and his mouth is taking me in.
“I want my mouth on every inch of your skin.” His voice is a low, seductive rasp. “I can’t believe I’m here with you right now. You’re perfection.” He kisses down my stomach and then looks at me. “I didn’t come prepared tonight, Maby. I didn’t expect—” His dimple deepens. “This is so much better than I imagined.”
He runs his hands over my breasts and kisses the spot just below my belly button. “I need to make you feel good.”
I’m feeling beyond good. I’m not sure if I say it or just think it.
“Please let me taste you…” he whispers against my stomach.
Something like a squeak escapes my mouth. I nod, biting my lip and staring at him wide-eyed.
He pulls my leggings down and admires my cute black underwear with tiny blue skulls before pulling them off.
Here we go, I think, prepared to go into my trancelike state of trying to relax and be okay that a man is going down on me. I start to do my routine count. One time with Dalton I counted to 537 and still never ‘got there’. But the moment Coen’s tongue makes contact, every nerve ending comes alive. He explores me with a primal hunger, on a mission to learn my body. He quickly knows it better than any man ever has before.
I bliss out on wave after wave. When he finally comes up for air, I’m limp and completely sated.
He laughs at the expression on my face. “You look … drunk.”
“I am.” I giggle.
“I’m the one drunk on you,” he says, licking his lips and giving me a huge grin. “God, Maby, will you think I’m weird if I tell you this is the best night of my life?”
“Ha. No.” I shake my head. “I’ve never … well … pretty much best night of mine too.”
He kisses his way back up my stomach and breasts and stops at my neck. “Where I started,” he says, planting soft kisses just below my ears. “I meant to be a gentleman tonight, Maby, I really did.”
“I’m so glad you weren’t.”
Much later, upon reflection, I’m really grateful for all the pineapple I’ve consumed recently. It was not planned. I didn’t expect this miraculous event to occur. Mark it down to something finally going very, very right.
I WAKE UP in a dreamy state thinking about Coen. Last night ended so blissfully. He had to get up really early this morning, but still stayed late. It seemed like it was torturing him to go. I stretch out in my bed, still getting warm when I think about how he made me feel. It was truly mind-blowing…
I glance at the clock. Shit. I overslept! Normally I would already be on my way to work. I can count on one hand the times I’ve been a couple of minutes late to work. This is bad. I’m at least 30 minutes behind and Anna will kill me if she finds out I opened this late. I press down every urge that is bucking up inside for me to go back and count steps. I need a do over. I fight it and my hands start shaking.
Beads of perspiration take over my forehead. I run to the front door of the shop and try to unlock it, but it’s already open. I put my hands on my knees and take a deep breath.
Anna is standing in the middle of all the beautiful things I’ve been filling the store up with. She looks angry. Peggy is standing beside her. I’m fairly certain it’s not Peggy’s scheduled time to be in the shop.
“You’re late,” she says and flings a folder on the counter. “And you left this hanging last night, Mabel. And do you know what else? You missed a huge shipment this morning. It was a COD, so I got the call when they couldn’t stick around waiting.”
My eyes get huge as I pick up the file. Oh no. It’s a difficult vendor that I’ve been trying to woo for months. They only deliver to a small handful of shops in the city, none that are close to each other. It took a long time to get them to agree to add our store to the list.
“What happened?”
“They decided to go with Allen Price’s shop.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding. Allen is a prick!”
“Well, I know that and you know that, but … looks like they don’t mind.” She points wildly at the file. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Mabel, but I can’t handle the risk any longer. You’ve never been stable and now you’re not reliable with your job either. I can’t risk losing business.” She glances at Peggy and then back at me. “You’re fired.”
“What? Fired? Anna, no! I can talk to them, try to change their minds. And we don’t need them anyway! We can find something else that will sell just as well,” I say in a panic. “Allen must have done something slimy to sway this one. I had them. You know I’m good at my job.”
She shakes her head. “I need you to leave your keys, the laptop … your cell phone.”
“What the fuck, Anna?” Any professionalism I had went out the door when my former friend completely sabotaged me. “Cell phone? Seriously? No.”
“I gave you that phone to do your job. Hopefully you have a backup.”
“Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. I’ve made this store what it is. I was here from the beginning. You think you can keep it going on your own?” I wave my arms toward her. “I’ve been doing your job for the last three years.” I nod at Peggy, bearing her no hard feelings. She’s been given the unfortunate job of being a witness to this. “I give you six months before you go under.”
I hold up my phone. “I’m not giving you my fucking phone. Do whatever you must. I’ll be happy to have a little conversation with Peggy here about those trips to the B&B you’ve been writing off every year. Or a little conversation with Joey about those.” I point to the fake boobs Joey never realized he’d bought. She’d blamed her new curvaceousness on a rapid weight gain and Joey had been naive and lust-
driven enough to believe her. Now she could blame it on a baby and he’d be none the wiser yet again.
Anna’s face goes white. “Get out. You have 10 minutes for me to see the back of you headed out that door.”
I flip her off. Both hands.
I never said I was mature.
She is physically shaking when she abruptly turns and stalks off.
I get to work on my desk. I don’t have many personal items lying around, but I gather the little there is in a pile. I take the tiny hard drive that I keep in my purse and quickly move some of my pictures and documents off of the laptop. While I’m at it, I make sure the new vendors I’ve been working with are also transferred to the hard drive. I’m not doing anything to make Anna’s job easy when she’s just fired me.
I don’t bother saying goodbye. I’ve invested all my time in something that has never given anything back. When I step outside, the tears fall. As I shuffle down the street with my purse and a meager three years stuffed in a box, I realize I’ve felt every possible emotion in a single day.
Alone, again.
I’M NOT EVEN out the door when I feel my arm being yanked out of its socket. At first I think I’m being mugged and drop everything. My box falls on a foot and a girly scream comes out. I’m so surprised it isn’t a man, I turn around to look at my attacker.
“Courtney!” I take in her tiny baby bump and bleached blond hair all in one glance. “What’s going on?”
I rub my arm and glare at her. She kicks my box and gives me a scathing look.
“I want you to tell me,” she spits out.
“Tell you what?” I shake my head.
She holds up her phone and shows me a picture of my boobs. I immediately feel feverish.
“You just couldn’t let us be happy, could you?” She starts to cry.
“Believe me, I can let you be happy. The two of you deserve one another.”
She grabs my arm again and gets an inch away from my face—close enough that when she talks, she spits in my eye.
“Listen to me, you bitch, stay away from Dalton. You have never been good enough for him and you never will be. I don’t know what possessed you to think you could start something back up with him, but let me tell you, he’s over you.”