“Okay.”
I let out the breath I was holding. “Can I call you tomorrow night?”
“After eight-thirty.”
“My new favorite time of the day.”
“Bye, Malcolm.”
“Bye, beautiful Mandy.”
Amanda
Beautiful Mandy. The phrase runs on a loop through my mind as I lie in my darkened bedroom and try to drift off to sleep.
Like every night before coming to bed, I checked on Jase. Tonight, I spent a few extra minutes marveling at my son, watching his small body, and covering him with his blanket as he dreamt about whatever it is he dreams. It hurts sometimes at how much I love him, how much I want to keep him safe and secure. There’s a mother bear inside me that loves when he’s in his bed hibernating because I know it’s a haven. I know he’s safe. Yet I can’t keep him there. I have to let him live and spread his wings. No matter how hard I wish otherwise, Jase is growing up, and I can’t make it stop. It’s hard to believe that tomorrow is his last day at ABC Preschool.
How has time moved this fast? It seems like yesterday when he was born, when Jackson was holding his pink and wrinkled little body.
But it wasn’t yesterday. So much has changed since Jackson and I brought him home to his new little nursery. Even where Jase and I live has changed. I don’t regret moving closer to my parents. Things have been as good as they could be, but Tuesday will be another change and admittedly, it frightens me.
Kindergarten shouldn’t scare me as much as it does. I mean, it’s all about shapes and letters and colors. It’s learning to share and how to use a cubby. It is many things he already knows from preschool, my parents, and me. Jase is smart, downright brilliant if you ask me. This transition shouldn’t be scary. And even though I feel like it is, I’ve done my best not to relay that fear to my son. Yet the reality is that beginning kindergarten is going to be new and different, and I’m not a fan of change. Not a fan of different. Not a fan of surprises.
It’s never for the better.
My chest aches with the thought of sending him to the big school with all the new classmates. I say a silent plea that he makes friends. Sally and I became friends when we were a little older, but Alec and Jackson were in the same kindergarten class. Maybe Jase could make lifelong friends. I think of Alec. He’s not usually as sensitive as he was the other night, and I never doubted his love for my husband. What would my brother think about the man fate brought to me?
Beautiful Mandy.
I know Jase needs to be allowed to live. Do I?
Would Jackson really want me to agree to see Malcolm again, or would he think I should go back to the way I’ve been? I try to think of how I’d feel if our roles were reversed—if I were gone, if Jackson were raising Jase.
My thoughts go to Malcolm.
Beautiful Mandy.
A smile comes to my lips.
Malcolm is something different, something new. What I did with him, what we did together, was out of character. Totally. Just like Alec told me to be. But it wasn’t meant to be a springboard to a new relationship. It was meant to be my one night to remember that I’m more than a mom, daughter, sister, friend, and employee—that I’m a woman.
The last time I had sex—before the mini-marathon Friday night—was before Jase was born. Immediately following Jase’s birth, I couldn’t. Jackson didn’t mind. He understood. Jackson always understood. Besides, he was due to return home in three months. We both believed there would be time.
Now, I wonder what I’m doing with my time.
Even if I’d never returned Malcolm’s call, during our one night he gave me exactly what I’d been seeking: the reminder that I am a sensuous woman. He gave me that multiple times.
I struggled with whether or not to call him back after I received his text message. There were so many times on Saturday when I reached for my phone, only to put it back down. On Saturday, I let my principles win. I stuck to my guns and senses. I kept telling myself that I didn’t want a relationship. I don’t need that complication in my life. Most importantly, Jase doesn’t need it.
That worked until I had trouble remembering my reasons for not calling. Until I remembered how special I felt with him.
Tonight, I caved.
Beautiful Mandy.
Special, pretty, and even treasured.
Tonight, while we were on the phone, his deep voice filled me with a sense of being something special—something more than just a tired mom. It’s not like I have self-esteem issues. I don’t. And I’d like to think I wouldn’t be described as nice—as in uglier than shit. The thought makes me smile as I imagine Malcolm describing his blind date.
While I don’t have issues with low self-esteem, I also don’t have anyone to boost my self-confidence. I have Jase, who tells me I’m pretty. But we all know that will change when Alec teaches him about ponytails and dimples. Once my son discovers girls, his mom won’t be the prettiest woman anymore. I also have my parents. They are always complimentary. And there’s Alec who teases me about my breasts, or lack thereof. Yet none of those people’s praise or ribbing makes me tingle the way I do when Malcolm calls me beautiful.
As I think back on Friday night, he’d even said that to the bartender, told him I was beautiful and gorgeous, before we ever spoke.
Staring up at the dark ceiling, looking for justification, I know that I called Malcolm tonight because I stopped thinking about why I shouldn’t call and began considering why I wanted to. I recalled how within minutes of meeting, Malcolm calmed my trepidation at being alone in the bar. I remembered the ease of our conversation and the warmth of his skin as he fell asleep holding me tightly to his frame. I recalled the security of sleeping in his arms and what it felt like to not be alone.
Before I called, I tried to tell myself that I was acting crazy. I barely know the man. And while it’s quite obvious he doesn’t have an erection issue, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have other issues.
And now that I have called, I keep wondering.
He said he is employed. But what don’t I know? While my brain says his issues could be something serious like a police record, tremendous debt, or a family history of mental-health problems, my heart tells me to stop exaggerating. If Malcolm Peppernick has issues, it’s probably something more like he stays up too late, likes scary movies, or worse, doesn’t sleep in on the weekends.
My pulse kicks up a notch.
I love to sleep in, any chance I get. I could never be with a man who’s an early riser.
What if he is a runner? Or long-distance bicyclist?
Staring at the ceiling, I imagine the horror of dating a man who enjoys exercise. I don’t think I can do that. What if he’d want me to exercise too?
My heart beats faster.
What if he doesn’t like chocolate or doesn’t drink coffee?
I sit up in my dark bedroom and wonder why I called him back. Why did I agree to another date? This isn’t right. I can’t bring a non-chocolate-eating, non-coffee-drinking exercise freak into my son’s life.
It’s all coming back.
This is why I didn’t want to meet Brian’s friend, the ex-hockey player. Now, instead of lying in bed and worrying about Jase starting kindergarten, my mind is awhirl with Malcolm. As the minutes tick away, I decide it’s too much. I have too much on my plate as a working single mom and with my family to complicate life even more with a crazy bicycle-distance-riding, anti-caffeine chocolate hater.
No one needs that in their lives. Not me. Not Jase.
No wonder Malcolm isn’t dating anyone. I mean, a man as handsome as Malcolm should have a line of women.
It’s probably because all of those other women aren’t as rusty on the dating scene as I am. They all saw what I didn’t. It’s because he won’t eat brownies! Who doesn’t eat brownies?
Health nuts. That’s who.
I throw back the covers and jump from my bed, my mind churning and flooding with a tsunami of unanswered questions. How d
id I miss it? I didn’t see the signs, but I’m sure they were there. We ate pizza. No one even mentioned dessert. What about birthdays? What if he won’t eat cake? That just isn’t right!
I pace back and forth beside my bed. Outside my bedroom window, beyond the slightly opened shutters, is the parking lot. Friday night I was at Malcolm’s apartment and my car was in his parking lot.
Change. Different.
That can’t happen again. Not if he’s going to put dessert restrictions on my life. Not if he’ll want me to exercise. This has to end before it gets out of hand.
Before I can stop myself, I reach for my phone and type a text.
Coffee – for or against? Chocolate – for or against? What about exercise?
I know I shouldn’t send it, but I need sleep. If I’m going to save puppies at work tomorrow and get Jase ready for his first day of school, I can’t have these monumental issues hanging over my head.
Taking a deep breath, I hit send.
It’s after eleven. Normally, I’d be asleep. Yep. This is his fault, too. I can’t do it. Once he confesses his odd hatred for all things sweet, we can call it quits, and I can get on with my life. Stop this thing before it goes any further.
With a huff, I settle against my headboard and pull my covers over my bent knees. The light on my phone fades, yet I hold my cell phone tight, staring at the dark screen.
“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not awake. I know you stay up too late, trying to mess with my schedule, probably planning out your twelve-mile run or making a shopping list for everything gluten-free. If we weren’t meant to eat gluten, God wouldn’t have made flour!”
Yes, I’m talking aloud to a man who isn’t here. I realize it may seem silly, yet this has to end. As soon as he comes clean, it’s over.
Just as I’m about to place my phone back on the bedside stand, it pings.
(Smile emoji) Hell yes. Not against it, especially the syrup that goes on ice cream...in the shower or on plastic sheets, it could be fun. And if the exercise includes you and the chocolate syrup, I’m in.
A giant smile breaks out across my face as I stare at his response.
I like chocolate syrup. I’ve never done what he’s suggesting, but then again, I’d never done that other thing that he did either.
My cheeks warm. I guess I can cross coffee, sweets, and gluten hater off my list.
I text back.
Goodnight, Malcolm.
My phone pings.
Goodnight, beautiful Mandy. I wish you were here. But I’ll wait.
It’s then I realize that I didn’t truly settle the gluten issue. And then I recall him eating pizza.
With a sigh, I settle against my pillow. As sleep grows nearer I realize something else: instead of lying here worrying about kindergarten, my mind is saturated with chocolate syrup, and I’m smiling ear-to-ear.
Mandy
I ease into the booth and smile toward Malcolm’s welcoming expression.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
Despite any qualms I may have been having, my smile grows as his greeting fills me with a welcomed feeling of warmth. “I’m sorry this is a late dinner. I wanted to wait until…my son was in bed.”
Malcolm shakes his head. “Not a problem. I ordered you a glass of moscato. I hope you don’t mind.”
There’s a tug in my chest, remembering how Jackson used to do that—order things for me. Though I have friends who would be offended by a man ordering for them, I’m not one. On the contrary, I’m pleased that Malcolm remembers the type of wine that I like. It’s sweet—the wine and him. “I don’t mind. Thank you.”
Malcolm reaches across the table and opens his hand, palm up.
Slowly I lift mine and place it in his. My eyes flutter as his fingers encase mine. The energy at our connection ripples through me, waking me and bringing my tired body back to life. It’s like electricity recharging me after my long day at work, my concerns over Jase’s kindergarten class, and life in general. For only a moment, I fantasize how it would be to have Malcolm’s warmth and support every evening.
“You’re too far away.”
My gaze moves back to his blue eyes and his sexy smile. “I am? We’re touching.”
His brow lifts suggestively. “Not in as many places as I’d like.”
“Didn’t you promise me dinner and drinks?”
“I did.” Just as he speaks, the waitress arrives with glasses of water, a glass of moscato, and another of beer.
Once she’s gone, Malcolm verbalizes my thoughts. “After a long day at work, it’s nice to sit here and talk, sharing a drink and touching.”
I nod, especially liking the last one. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Tell me about your job.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “Can all that wait?”
We’ve spoken on the phone every night since Sunday. Sometimes it’s for a few minutes; other nights it’s until way past my normal bedtime. It seems as though all the things I worried about aren’t truly concerns. Malcolm likes coffee, all day during the cold months and definitely every morning. Besides chocolate syrup, he does enjoy an occasional cookie, brownie, and has never turned down birthday cake. Like any normal human being, he prefers buttercream frosting to fondant or whipped. Who doesn’t? He also enjoys reading, more so than any other man I’ve known. I’ve never been able to talk books with anyone except Sally, and I like the discussions Malcolm and I have shared. We both agree that releasing Go Set a Watchman was a mistake. He’s also addicted to Netflix originals and suggested we go to the movies sometime, though he’s tired of remakes and thinks Hollywood needs some new original ideas.
I couldn’t agree more.
It’s the real-life issues that we’ve kept to a minimum.
“Wait for what?” he asks.
“I don’t really know. I think I want to enjoy being with you without it being too real. My job has its ups and downs. I love the company I work for and my coworkers. My manager can be a real bitch...” The fingers from my other hand fly to my lips. It’s one thing to say that to Sally, but I don’t know Malcolm well enough to talk that way, and I don’t want him to think less of me.
Before I can take it back, his laugh resonates, filling the space of our booth and reverberating through me. “Now don’t get all shy on me. I guarantee I heard worse expletives from your lips than that one each time you came apart with me buried deep inside you.”
My eyes widen as I giggle at his observation. “I guess…I didn’t realize…”
He leans across the table, squeezing my hand and lowering his voice. “You didn’t realize you like to yell fuck when you’re coming apart.”
I suck my upper lip between my teeth to squelch my grin and slowly shake my head. “No. I didn’t realize.”
His blue eyes dance in amusement. “Then I’m quite proud of myself.”
“You are?”
“Yes, I had you so distracted you didn’t know what you were saying.”
My cheeks warm as blood rushes to the surface.
“By the way, you were also confessing your undying love for me.”
This time my lips purse. “I think you’re exaggerating.”
“Maybe a little.”
We release one another’s hand as we lift our respective glasses.
“To you,” Malcolm proposes his toast. “To us, and to avoiding nice women and men with erectile issues.”
I nearly spit out my wine as I take a sip.
Though we avoid discussing anything too revealing, the conversation never lags. Like the first night and all the nights on the phone, talking to him is easy and fun. Through our meal and as we sip a cup of coffee to postpone the inevitable goodbye, we laugh, smile, and simply chat. It’s refreshing and new, exciting yet comfortable. Our date, the evening as a whole, is everything I’ve wanted—times a thousand. It’s almost eleven when Malcolm pays the bill.
“My place?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I want to.” And
I do. “But my friend is watching Ja—” I stop before I say Jase’s name. “My son. If I get back too much later, she'll never stop asking questions.”
Malcolm reaches for my hand and our fingers intertwine. “Let me walk you to your car. I promised to be a gentleman. That means there’s a door to open.”
The night air holds the slight chill of impending autumn as we walk across the nearly empty parking lot. As we approach my car, his grip of my hand tightens, and he lowers his lips to my ear. “Did I mention how stunning you are tonight?”
Instinctively, I turn and brush my lips over his. “You're very handsome, too.”
“That dress is lovely, but…” His words trail into the night.
We’re now at my car. I’m leaning against it and looking up at him. With only the tall lights of the parking lot, his features are shadowed. His protruding brow is more pronounced, and his shoulders seem wider. What I said is true. Malcolm is handsome, incredibly so.
“But?” I ask, prompting him to go on.
“For the last five days, I've imagined you the way you were, on your knees, fully exposed…” He leans closer. Even in his jeans his erection is prominent. “…and I want to see you that way again.”
Maybe it’s the coffee we just drank, but I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling is brought on by more than caffeine. His proximity, words, and tone comprise the accelerant making my blood race. My insides tighten in a painful knot of desire, confirming that despite my declining his invitation, I want to go with him. I want more tonight than a good girl’s dinner and drinks.
“Malcolm…”
Before I can say more, his lips capture mine and his fingers twist my low ponytail until my head moves backward. All at once his kisses pepper my neck, my exposed skin, sending heat to my chilled flesh. My body’s on fire and this sweet, sexy man is the match. It’s his spark that ignites the inferno.