Out of Grief (6 page)

Oh, fuck me; she thinks I want to kiss her now.
I watched her sway forward, closing her eyes as she did.

“That’s your cue,” she whispered, when I didn’t move.

“Here on the street?”

“Okay.” Emily held out her hand. The wounded expression on her face was almost too much to bear. “It was nice meeting you.”

I took her hand, and was surprised to find a hint of chemistry when we touched.
Oh, what the hell!
I pulled her toward me, and kissed her. A hint of salt from the popcorn lingered on her lips. The kiss was soft, gentle; at least, that was my intention. Emily clearly had other intentions, as one hand grabbed the small of my back and the other the back of my neck to close the distance between us, and the kiss grew heated. It wasn’t long before tongues were caressing, heart rates were escalating, and lungs were depleted of oxygen.

I pulled away to catch my breath and, hopefully, my perspective.

Emily’s hands wrapped around my lapels, hanging on, as if she sensed that I would leave. “Come up stairs for a little while. Please.”

My hands were still on her hips.
Shit, when did I put them there?
I let go. “Emily, I don’t usually move this fast,” I managed to say.

“Fast, slow; you can set the pace.”

I could already hear Kat berating me for walking away from this, when I felt the persistent buzzing in my pocket. Without thinking, I grabbed my cell phone and saw the name on the screen. “Give me a sec,” I held up my finger and moved away to answer.

“Everything okay?”

“You sound flustered. Where are you?”

I looked at Emily, she was waiting quietly, but I could see the hope in her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?”

“Fine. I just wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Is this a bad time?” The impatience in her voice matched my own.
What to do?
I had a woman standing right in front of me, offering the one thing Quinn would never offer me, and yet I couldn’t hang up. I cupped my hand over the phone, and said, “Pregnant friend.”

Emily smiled; a smile that said—
you’re such a good friend.
If only she knew.

“Nikki?”

Why did I feel like this would be cheating? You couldn’t cheat on your want-to-be lover. Could you? Flesh and blood versus a fantasy. Was I crazy?

“Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks,” I snapped the phone shut before I could overthink the sorrow in her tone. “Sorry,” I said to Emily. “That was my best friend. She’s doing the single mother thing. Do you still want me to come upstairs?”

“Of course.”

“Then lead the way.”

***

Emily opened the door on a small but pleasant looking apartment, furnished in what looked like second hand items which had been thrown together. Surprisingly, it gave the room a comfortable look. I was drawn immediately to the large built-in bookshelf that covered the back wall.

“It’s not much, but its home,” Emily said, as she casually threw her coat around the back of a dining room chair. “So, I have coffee, soda, water, some beer probably, if you want anything to drink.”

I was reading the spines of the books crammed onto the bookshelves. She wasn’t kidding, she had every book I’d ever written, and all in hard back. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I said. I pulled my first novel out and looked at the picture on the back cover, remembering the hours I’d spent agonizing over which picture to use.

“You haven’t changed much at all,” Emily said, as she put a beer in my hand.

“Oh, I’ve changed a lot. Just not on the outside.”

“Do you think, I mean, would you … maybe sign it for me?”

“Sure. You got a pen?”

I sat down on the leather love seat, and set my beer down. Usually at book signings it was easy, you signed a platitude and your name, but I knew that Emily was expecting something more.

Emily handed me the pen. “I’ll give you a minute. I’m just going to … well, I’ll be back.”

I opened the book and starred at the blank page. What the fuck was I thinking? She was probably in there putting on god knows what. And I didn’t even know what I was doing here. She was nice enough, but this wasn’t me. The least I could do was write something nice.

I felt the couch dip. “Having writer’s block?”

“Little bit.” I looked up and realized Emily hadn’t changed. “It always takes a little longer when I know someone.”

“That’s cool.” She took the pen and book out of my hand. “You can do it later, maybe we can talk now.”

“Talk?”

“Yeah, I have a confession to make.”

“You’re not going to go all Kathy Bates on me, are you?”

“Kathy Bates?”

“You know, like in ‘Misery’?”

“I didn’t see it. What’s it about?”

“Not important. What did you want to talk about?”

She was toying with her bottom lip. It was actually quite adorable. She seemed nervous. But I waited patiently.

“It’s like this … well, I don’t usually do this sort of thing on the first date. I think I got carried away, you being you, and I being so in love with your writing. And I was trying to be bold like one of your characters. And then we saw that romantic comedy and I don’t know what came over me. Not that the kissing was bad. I mean the kissing was very good; very, very good. I would very much like to do that again. I mean, if you would like to. And I would like to do more, just not tonight, but in the future, if you would want to maybe see me again. Could you please stop me from rambling before you think I’m a complete idiot—?”

“Hey, hey.” I put my hands on hers. “It’s okay. I don’t do this sort of thing either. My characters do. I admit that, but I’m not as fast.”

“Really? Or are you just being nice?”

“Remember me from earlier this evening? I’m not always that nice.” My phone was buzzing in my pocket. I reached for it.

“That was you being mean?”

“Not mean per say, more like sarcastic.” I read the text.

—You okay, you were acting weird. —

“Anything important?”

My fingers flew over the keyboard
—Fine. Talk tomorrow —
and I turned the phone off and pocketed it.
“Sorry about that. Nothing that can’t wait.” I finally took a sip of the beer.

“So is there a chance we could do this again? Or just hang out, if you want.”

“I’m going to an art opening in the Village on Wednesday night. Would you like to join me? We could grab a bite after.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good. And I’ll bring this with me, signed. If I can borrow it.”

“Of course.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Do you like her?” Quinn asked.

“It’s too early to tell.” I cradled the phone against my ear as I pulled on dark slacks.

“But you said there was something there, and you kissed.”

“And?” I set the phone on the dresser so I could put my arm through the sleeve of my silk shirt.

“It sounded like you would have slept together if she hadn’t gotten cold feet.”

“I guess we might have.”

“Who are you? And what did you do with my best friend?”

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought there was a tinge of jealousy in her voice. “Maybe I’m trying something new.”

“You know, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t catch some STD or something. Do you even know if she’s been tested?”

“Eew, and when did you become an expert on gay sex?”

“I worry about you. And you don’t have to be an expert to know that casual sex can be dangerous with the wrong person.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Especially if you’re using toys, and—”

“La, la, la.” I put my fingers in my ears. “I’m hanging up now,” I called out before pushing end.

Fumbling through my contacts, I quickly pulled up Kat and texted—
How do you find out if someone’s been tested?—

—Ask. —

—Duh! How? —

—By posing the question. —

—Is it awkward? —

—Depends on the person. I would think Emily is pretty clean. Doesn’t sound like she dates a lot. —

—I was looking for a little more guidance, Yoda. —

—Ask you must to know. May the force be with you, young Padawan. —

—You’re exasperating. —

—Love me anyway, you do.

—Right now, I’m having trouble remembering why.

—Seriously, relax. Have fun. It’s supposed to be fun.—

Chapter Sixteen

The evening had gone well. The art opening had provided a lively debate on modern art, and dinner in little India was scrumptious. The little black dress and heels that Emily had chosen accentuated her toned leg muscles, and the top dipped down just enough to show off her cleavage. The combination was making my head hurt as I thought about all the possible ways to find out if she’d been tested recently.

There was a bit of traffic on the West Side Highway, and I was growing impatient. “Have I told you how lovely you look in that dress?”

“Yes, but I don’t seem to get tired of hearing it.”

“In that case,” I said, taking her hand in mine and kissing the back of it. “You look very lovely tonight.”

“So do you.” She squeezed my hand. “I had a really great time tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Is the night over?” I asked as the cab pulled up in front of her apartment building.

“Yes, but only because I have to work early tomorrow.”

“Leave the meter running, please,” I told the cabbie as I escorted her to her door. “So, I guess this is goodnight.”

“Would you like to come for dinner on Saturday? I’m not a bad cook, I’ve been told.”

“I’d like that. Can I bring anything?”

“Just you.” She moved a bit closer.

This time it was easier to lean in, knowing that she wanted to kiss me too.

Chapter Seventeen

“When you said you were a good cook, you undersold yourself.”

She blushed. “You don’t have to—”

“Hey.” I touched her hand. “Take the compliment. I meant it. That was amazing. I don’t normally like steak, but whatever you did to it … it literally melted in my mouth.”

“I just marinated it in oyster sauce and brown sugar.”

“Everything was excellent.”

“Are you ready for dessert? Or would you want to wait a while?”

“Wait, I think.” I reached for her plate.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“You cooked. Please, let me help you clean up.”

“If you insist.”

“I do. Why don’t you relax? I won’t be long.” Cleaning up was easy, since she had a dishwasher. Her kitchen was so tiny, I couldn’t even imagine how she managed to cook in it, let alone churn out an entire homemade Thai meal. There was only a pot, still full of broth on the stove, and a fry pan. I left the broth, cleaned the pan, and found her relaxing on the loveseat with a book in hand. I took a moment to appreciate how she looked
in the form fitting jeans and peasant blouse. Curls cascaded around her shoulders, and I imagined running my fingers through them.

She looked up from her book, and patted the seat next to her, as she closed it and set it on the end table.

“What are you reading?”

“’Taken by the Wind’, by Ellen Hart. Have you read her?”

“Can’t say I have”

“She’s good. I think I’ve read them all.”

“So, you’re a serial reader?”

She held up her hands. “I confess. You caught me.” She grinned. I was beginning to really like that smile.

“So, what are your vices, Emily?”

“What are yours?” she countered.

“I’m a bit messy, and sometimes I can be bull headed,” I offered. “And, if my ex-wife is to be trusted, I’m selfish.”

“You were married?”

“Until she cheated on me.”

“Why do people do that?”

“Got me.”

“Have you ever …”

“Cheated? No. You?”

“I think my parents raised me better. They’ve been married like forever.”

“Mine too. And they’re really in love with each other. Tough act to follow—”

“But you want to.”

“Yeah. Does that make me hopeless?”

She moved closer. “I already know you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“You do?”

She put a leg on either side of me, and put her hands on my shoulders. “Read all your books, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I rested my hands on her hips.

She licked her lips and my level of anticipation shot up as her lips met mine. The level jumped even higher as our tongues found each other, and we both moaned into the kiss. I wrapped a hand in her hair, pulling her closer.

“Jesus, Nikki,” she managed to say between passionate kisses. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”