Immediately releasing my hold on the knob and giving the door a gentle shove, I began to move toward her cautiously. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was clearly on edge and I didn’t want to upset her more. “Thanks for the coffee,” I said as I brought the piping hot drink to my mouth for a sip. “Black is perfect.”
Another half-smile as she glanced down at her own cup that she was now clutching with both hands, followed by a nervous lick of her lips. Instinctively, my eyes followed the path of her tongue across the plump, delicate flesh, and I groaned internally as my pants abruptly grew snug in the crotch. This woman is going to be the death of me. I can’t fucking control myself around her.
“Uh, yeah, no problem,” she eventually replied, keeping her stare fixed on the green plastic lid as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other then back again. “I, uh . . . I had this whole speech planned out on my way over here. Stayed up most of the night thinking about what I wanted to say and how to properly express what I’m thinking and feeling, but now that I’m here, it all seems incredibly stupid. I mean, I don’t even really know you . . . I don’t know how what happened yesterday even happened. It doesn’t make any sense at all. I pride myself on the control and restraint I have over my thoughts and my actions. As a public figure, I’m constantly judged on the things I say and do, and if I behave irresponsibly, not only will that reflect poorly on me and my morals and character, but it’ll also affect Colin and Mending Hearts.”
She stopped her rambling to gradually raise her chin, her troubled green eyes seeking out mine as she whispered, “Regardless of how out of control I feel when I’m around you, I can’t afford to lose either of those things. They’re my world. My everything.”
I took a tentative step in her direction, but made sure to leave plenty of space between the two of us. I didn’t want to think about why her control faltered when she was around me. Thinking about that would only lead to more questions that I’d never get answers to. For the preservation of both of our sanity, I had to do the right thing.
“Monroe, it’s okay. I understand,” I assured her softly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. “You don’t need to explain anything. I told you yesterday that I don’t do that kind of thing either. That’s not who I am, nor is it who I want to be. I wish more than anything I could go back and undo that kiss so that things don’t get awkward between us, but I can’t. It’s done. It’s over. And all we can do is ensure it won’t happen again.”
Pausing for another swallow of the much-needed caffeine, I then continued on, unsure of where the sound and rational words were coming from, but thankful for them nonetheless. “We just need to move forward and focus on our common goal of getting this house ready to be the best it can be for the kids who are gonna live there. We’ve got a little less than six months of working closely together, and even after that, as long as we’re both with Mending Hearts, we’ll still see and talk to each other occasionally. I think we’ve established that whatever happened between us yesterday was a fluky thing. For whatever reason, we both acted impulsively and out of character. It was a one-time thing, and we’re both professional and adult enough to carry on as friendly colleagues. Am I right?”
Monroe nodded and her body visibly relaxed, which in turn made mine do the same. It was as if someone had abruptly flipped the on-switch to an invisible vacuum and sucked nearly all of the tension out of the room in one broad sweep. And although I knew it’d be a constant struggle of my willpower not to think about how amazing that kiss had been every time I looked at her lips, I was relieved at the rapid shift in her demeanor. Her happy made me happy.
“Yeah, I guess you are, but don’t get used to me admitting that kind of thing,” she teased with a bashful grin before lifting the coffee to her mouth for a drink.
I was about to retort something equally as snarky, but it was then that I noticed what was scrawled in black marker across her white paper cup: Rizzo. Glancing down at my own beverage, I saw the name “Sandy D.” staring back at me, and everything I’d just said flew swiftly out the window. What happened between us the day before wasn’t a fluke at all. I was falling for a married woman.
“The truth about
romance is
this: We are
all novels;
our pages stained
with the fingerprints
of either our
lovers
or loneliness.”
–Christopher Poindexter
Monroe
COLIN WAS WRONG. Oliver was a good guy. A little too good if you asked my wounded ego . . . because even though I knew it was the right thing for him to say for both of our sakes, when he admitted that he wished he could go back and undo the best kiss of my life, it was like being kicked in the gut. With a steel-toed boot. By an MMA fighter.
But, like I knew how to do so well, I pushed past the hurt, plastered a smile on my face, and pressed on.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long after our serious—and incredibly awkward—conversation for Oliver to have me laughing and joking around while we set up the dining room table in his apartment as the temporary headquarters for Mending Hearts Boston . . . though the kiss was never far from my thoughts. I did my best to keep plenty of physical space between us by sitting across from him instead of next to him, and I was careful to never allow my gaze to drop to his mouth, afraid I wouldn’t be able to tear my eyes away from his soft, tempting lips, now that I knew exactly how they felt pressed against mine.
Never before had I struggled with my willpower like I did that day, but by the time lunch rolled around, I’d managed to get my lecherous, immoral thoughts under control, and Oliver and I had developed an effective and efficient method of sorting through the advisor applications. “You about ready to stop for a bite to eat?” I asked, looking up from my laptop. “I’m pretty sure my stomach is planning a mutiny over here.”
“Hold on, one minute. I’m almost done with this email.”
The light of the screen warmed his amber eyes as he typed out the message, and I couldn’t help but allow my gaze to linger on him for a few seconds longer than I should have. His long chocolate curls were tucked behind his ears, begging my fingers to twist in them, and his dark-framed glasses had fallen down on the bridge of his nose, in desperate need for me to reach out and adjust them. So to keep myself from doing either, I abruptly jumped up out of my chair and made a beeline to the kitchen. For the love of God, Monroe, get ahold of yourself. He already told you that he regretted the kiss. Don’t embarrass yourself anymore.
“I can start getting something ready while you wrap up what you’re working on,” I offered as I opened the refrigerator to peruse our options. Only, when I swung open the door, a cold box of nothingness greeted me. Like absolutely nothing. Not even a beer or random to-go packet of ketchup.
Chuckling, I closed the fridge and turned to open the pantry, only to find it just as bare. “Umm . . . Oliver?”
“Yeah?” he asked absently, still pounding away on the keyboard.
“Why don’t you have any food here?”
“Because cooking for one isn’t much fun,” he laughed and swiveled around to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nor do I know where the grocery store is around here, so I’ve just been eating at the deli downstairs and a few of the close-by restaurants.”
I scrunched my nose up with disapproval and shook my head. “But what if you get thirsty in the middle of the night? You don’t even have anything to drink!”
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this cool thing called water? It’s this really great liquid for hydrating. Plus, it’s free with this swanky apartment.” He smirked as he pushed to his feet, slowly swaggering toward where I stood. “And as for lunch, I assumed we’d be ordering delivery or grabbing some to-go food, but if you’d rather we eat here, I can stock up on some things. Just let me know what kind of stuff you like.”
The temperature spiked the instant we were both inside the n
arrow, galley-style kitchen, and by the grace of God, he stopped a few feet in front of me and jokingly turned the faucet on, pointing at the stream of water with a lopsided grin. “See? Water.”
Desperate to escape the close quarters, I used his bad joke as an excuse to roll my eyes and saunter past him, scooping up my purse and keys off of my makeshift desk. “Come on, funny guy,” I called out over my shoulder, making my way to the door. “We’re going grocery shopping.”
“What is that?” Oliver scowled at the gallon of milk I’d just set in the shopping cart. “Does that stuff even come from a cow?”
Confused, I lifted the carton up in the air and skimmed over the label, thinking maybe I’d grabbed the wrong thing by mistake. Once I realized I hadn’t, I cut my eyes over at him and gave him the what-in-the-world-are-you-talking-about look. “Of course it comes from a cow,” I scoffed. “It’s fat-free, organic milk. You said you needed some for your cereal, right?”
With a snicker, he shook his head and walked around the cart, taking the milk out of my hands and placing it back in the cooler. Then, shuffling farther down the dairy section a few feet, he reached down and pulled out a gigantic plastic jug of chocolate milk. Donning a huge grin, he proudly placed the replacement milk in the cart and gave me a triumphant nod. “You can’t ruin Peanut Butter Captain Crunch with that healthy crap you picked. Chocolate milk is the only way to go. Please tell me you’ve tried it before.”
“Uhhh . . . no. I’ve never tried any kind of Captain Crunch, not with regular or chocolate milk,” I laughed. “Actually, I’ve never had any kind of cereal, unless you count granola or oatmeal.”
“What? No cereal?!” Oliver’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “Surely you ate some when you were a kid.”
“Nope. Never.” I shook my head emphatically.
Moving back to the rear of the cart so he could push it down the aisle, he continued to gape at me in disbelief. “Really? Not even like the gross stuff like Shredded Wheat or Raisin Bran?”
“I’m serious. Not even the gross stuff.”
He stopped momentarily to add butter, sour cream, and cream cheese to the growing pile of food, and then resumed his skeptical questioning as we headed toward the bakery. “How is that even possible? I mean, even if your mom didn’t keep it in the house for whatever reason, how did you not try it when you spent the night with friends or went on vacation? Cereal is like a staple of all kids’ diets. It should probably be its own food group.”
I shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to read the nutritional facts on the back of a package of pita bread crackers while strolling next to him. “I dunno. I didn’t grow up like most kids. I didn’t stay out over at friends’ houses, and at home, we had a personal chef who did all of the shopping and cooking, so I ate what was put in front of me . . . which was always whatever my mom wanted. She was very strict and disciplined about her diet. We usually had egg whites with fresh fruit, or something similar. Then, when I went away to boarding school, I had a meal plan, so it was pretty much the same thing. I ate whatever the cafeteria was serving that day. And I can assure you, my ass is thankful it was never a bowl of sugary cereal with chocolate milk, or I’d have lived on the elliptical machine when I wasn’t studying,” I joked to hide the mixture of disappointment and embarrassment coursing through me.
Glancing up, I was surprised to find him staring so intently at me, and although I had a hard time placing the expression brewing in his fascinating eyes, there was no denying my body’s physical response to his attention. Much like the first time I met him, and several occurrences since, goose bumps prickled over my skin as warmth arose in my core. He looked at me like no one had ever looked at me before, and it was equally as unnerving as it was exhilarating. I never wanted him to stop.
“What?” I questioned in a hushed voice once I realized we’d been standing in front of the baguette stand, staring at each other for who knew how long. “Is the cereal a deal-breaker on the friendly colleague thing?”
Oliver barked out a laugh, my words obviously breaking him free of whatever train of thought he’d been lost in. “No, Rizzo.” He shook his head as he began moving forward again with the cart. “It’s not a deal-breaker, but you are aware it’s the first thing I’m making you eat when we get back to the apartment, right? I don’t care how long you’re gonna have to work out later. I promise every bite will be worth it.”
Half an hour later, as I sat at his table slurping down the remnants of my first—but definitely not last—bowl of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch with chocolate milk, I could see the I-told-you-so smile dancing in the creases next to his eyes, and once again, he was right . . . it was sooo worth it. And I was starting to think he might be too.
“It is ripping me
apart knowing
that I am loving
you with only
a broken version
of me.
I can only hope
that it is enough.
My god,
please be enough.”
–Christopher Poindexter
Monroe
WHEN I LEFT Oliver’s apartment late that afternoon, I wasn’t quite ready to be alone with my thoughts or to face the emptiness of my house. I hadn’t seen or talked to Colin since our argument the night before—not even as much as a simple text message either way. We had never fought before, and I hated it. He was the one person who was supposed to support and love me no matter what, and for him to react the way he had, I was not only disappointed, but I was hurt. He, of all people, should’ve known what a big deal it was for me to come to him with something like that, and how I most definitely wouldn’t have taken it lightly. Part of me had expected him to call or text an apology at some point throughout the day, once he realized how insensitive and hypocritical he had been, but the message never came. And instead, I was left alone to deal with the onslaught of emotions I was feeling, not only about Oliver, but about Colin too.
Confusion.
Guilt.
Self-doubt.
Exhilaration.
Remorse.
Desire.
I was a damn mess.
It was the first time I wished I had a girlfriend to confide in, but honestly, Allison was the closest thing I had to that, and I wasn’t about to burden her with my issues while she was preparing to start her chemotherapy treatments. Plus, I didn’t want her to feel guilty about having Oliver taking her place in Boston, seeing that none of this probably would’ve happened had she been the one training me. No, that definitely wasn’t an option. So, I went to the one place I knew would make me forget about all of my own issues and put a smile on my face: the Suffolk County Children’s Home.
The moment I stepped inside the building, all of my personal worries and troubles were left with my coat at the door, and I was free to be whatever the kids needed me to be, whether it be a teacher, a counselor, a supporter, or even just a friend. And some nights, it was all of the above. I didn’t mind at all. The one thing I knew, without a doubt, was that regardless of everything else, they were worth it.
“Monroe! Monroe! You’re here again! Two days in a row!” six-year-old Alex shouted when he saw me appear inside the rec room, just after I’d checked in with the evening advisors on duty. Dropping his game controller, he sprinted over to me and threw himself around my leg, squeezing me with all his might.
Laughing, I pried him off my boot and lifted him up in my arms. “Hey, big guy! I’m happy to see you too!” I exclaimed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Are you already finished with all of your homework to be playing games?”
He nodded as I lowered his feet back to the ground, his mega-watt grin staying in place. “Yes’m. Miss Lovell says I’m the smartest boy in the whole wide world, and that one day I’m gonna be the Present of the Unitard States. They may even make money with me on it!”
“Money with you on it?!” I gave him my best I’m-so-impressed face as I hid my chuckle. “That’s pretty remarkable, buddy. I hope
it happens though. I know I’ll vote for you.”
“Do you think Dr. Saxon would do magic tricks with my money? That would be so cool, right? I bet he’ll vote for me too so he can have my money!” I didn’t think it was possible, but Alex’s small freckled face lit up even more when he thought about the possibility of Oliver doing silly magic tricks with dollar bills that had his face on them. In just one afternoon with the kids, he’d already made a lasting impression.
“I’m sure he will,” I agreed as I tapped my finger gently on the tip of his nose, pretending his mention of Oliver didn’t completely knock me off-kilter. “You just need to keep doing so well in school, and Dr. Saxon and I will take care of all the votes. Deal?”
Holding his child-sized hand out in my direction, he waited for me to rest mine inside of his before shaking it and repeating, “Deal.” Then, like a gust of autumn wind, he took off back toward the TV, plopped down with his controller, and resumed his game.
I smiled as I scanned the rest of the room, pleased to find Aaron playing checkers with one of the boys close to his age and Heather curled up in a beanbag chair with a book. Not surprisingly, JoJo wasn’t with the rest of the group, so after I said hello to the others, I trudged up the stairs to her room, hoping she was in a better mood than the day before. However, just before I reached the top of the steps, my phone chimed inside my purse, alerting me of a new text. Stopping at the top of the landing, I fished it out of the bottom of my bag and glanced down at the screen.