His Five Night Stand (21 page)

“You look beautiful,” he said, reaching to pull out a chair.

I stopped him. “I got this.” I scooted the chair in myself. “And you’re serious. You’re really going to start by telling me I look beautiful. That’s your lead.”

“But you do,” he said, his face crestfallen. He had already ordered me a latte. I could tell from the foam it was non-fat milk. My heart rate increased but not because I was nervous anymore, I was suddenly annoyed, very annoyed.

“Thanks,’” I said, taking a sip of the coffee to be polite. Old habits die hard. “So, why are we here Henry?”

“I thought we might be able to spend time together.”

“What does Sophia think about that?”

“Sophia doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t understand. She didn’t work out and now you’re calling me?” I put down my coffee cup the non-fat completely tasteless.

“No, she did work out, she could have . . . I mean . . .” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I screwed everything up. Sophia and I drove down the coast late this week.”

“Seriously? You took her on our trip?”

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have told you that. It’s just we had reservations, some were not refundable.” He said it with such confidence.

“Yes, a shame. God Forbid you lose your deposit, Henry.”

“I’m screwing this all up.”

“You’re fine, go on,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

“It’s just the more time we spent together the more I realized how good things were with us. I made a horrible mistake letting you go, Cal. You have no idea how much I regret it, I regret everything. I want you back.”

I looked into his dark brown eyes. They were so familiar. Here was the face of the man I had loved for five years of my life and he was finally speaking the words that I’d dreamed about. He wanted me back, the Sophia experiment was over. I could have my old life back. I just needed to say yes.

The problem was, I no longer wanted it.

“Things weren’t that good between us Henry,” I said, taking two packs of sugar and pouring them into my latte.

“Sure they were,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. “I know you are angry, but you know it’s true. You and I just work. We never fight, we enjoy each other’s company, we have fun together. I’m an asshole, that’s what happened to us.”

“True.” I shrugged. He had a point.

Something flashed in his eyes and I wondered if he had expected me to soothe him and assure him he was wrong, but a lot had changed over the past ten days. I looked at his hand on top of mine and I thought about how the old Callie would have held his hand tightly grateful for something familiar, something safe.

I had wanted so badly to be chosen by him, but what I realized now is that I needed to choose myself.

I slid my hand out from under his. “We are over Henry.”

“Don’t say that. We had five good years together, you just don’t shut something like that off.”

“You already did,” I laughed. “And you have to believe me when I say it’s okay. I understand now that we weren’t that good together. Someday you’ll believe me.”

His brow furrowed, his breath short and intense. “You’ve found someone else, is that it?”

“No. I’m not with anyone. I haven’t found anyone but myself, Henry. You picked me all those years ago and I was so grateful, so happy to be approved by you. And then you changed your mind and it crushed me.”

“I’m sorry, you have no idea.” He looked so pained, his hands reaching again across the table.

“It’s okay, you were attracted to Sophia. I don’t fault you, she’s hot and we had fun together, but let’s be honest it wasn’t like we had sparks.”

“There were sparks.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You picked me Henry but I never picked you.” I took a gulp of my now sweetened latte and stood up. “And I’m not going back to you because it’s familiar, or it’s easy. I’d rather be alone.”

“Cal, we can be better together. We can find the spark. We just need to try.”

“No, we can’t,” I said. “And you know what? I don’t drink non-fat lattes. I actually hate them. I always did. Before you order for a woman next time, find out what she really wants.”

I kissed his cheek and pulled an envelope with a reimbursement check out of my purse, placing it on the table. I had written the check that morning after I’d agreed to the coffee date. “This is only a portion, but I’ll be paying you back in full for your loan,” I said.

“It wasn’t a loan,” he said, pushing the envelope towards me.

I shrugged. “Goodbye, Henry. Good luck.”

I walked out of the coffee shop and I didn’t look back.

Henry and I were over, this was true. But this time I was walking away. I was choosing a different life not running away with my head hanging.

Each step away from him felt like a movement towards my new life. Ironically it had started with the end of not one but two relationships. First Henry and then Theo. I had never felt so inspired by so much loss.

It was late Saturday afternoon so the financial part of the city was almost deserted. The sky was robin’s egg blue. Puffy white clouds billowed overhead. It was a gorgeous Seattle day. I wore a yellow sundress with sandals, my hair loose. I didn’t need my cardigan so I wrapped it around my shoulders.

I decided to walk through the city and then grab the train to the office at Lake Union. I’d brought my portfolio with me. The plan was to spend a few hours gathering images from key projects. I’d print them off-site so no one could accuse me of stealing office supplies or something ridiculous like that.

I felt exhilarated walking through the city. My heart felt big and strong thinking about my life and where it might be going. I had a place to live, I knew I needed to make a change at work and I no longer doubted that I would. I felt inspired and un-stuck. I didn’t have a lover but I’d learned that the only way I was ever going to get what I wanted in life was to ask for it.

“I expect a wonderful life,” I whispered to myself, waiting at a stop light near the art museum. A crowd of people following a tour guide holding an umbrella in the air gathered around me. I expect love. I expect passion. I expect satisfaction.

I rattled off the things I wanted and needed, never realizing where I was going until I stood underneath the neon sign that Shea had described to me that night in the laundry room not so long ago.

Blue and White neon—a skyline of NYC in downtown Seattle.

Manhattan Galleries.

The signed buzzed and flickered overhead.

I looked inside the large windows. A series of paintings hung in the front room—beautiful poppies in shades of sunlight. The walls were white like Theo’s bedroom, the ceiling high. Through a wide archway I saw a brass sculpture on a black pillar. It was of a woman kneeling, her hands across her belly with an expression that could only be called joy.

And as if on cue Theo walked into frame.

He crossed the room, his face tense but invigorated. An elegant elderly woman in a pale blue suit followed him as he walked through the room. His hands gesturing as he walked, he was sharing something with her, his passion for his art clear in the intensity of his gaze. I stood perfectly still transfixed.

What did I want out of life?

I was looking right at him.

I walked inside.

You get the life you ask for. It was time to start talking.

I walked straight up to Theo. He stood, his back towards me holding some papers in his hand. The woman exited out the front door behind me, bells ringing as the door closed.

“Hello there,” I said, my heart pounding with excitement. What if he rejected me? What if he didn’t? It didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t going to let fear stop me from asking for what I wanted in life. I was going to be brave.

Theo turned, his eyes widened when he saw me and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead he was silent. He closed his mouth and swallowed.

“You could start with hello,” I said. “I won’t bite.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You surprised me, you always do.” The last phrase he muttered a little more softly.

“Will you show me your art?” I asked, drinking in his face, his pale blue eyes. My gaze drifted down his body to his beautiful hands, the hands that I had grown to love on my body in just a few brief nights. “I want to see your sculptures.” My heart pounded against my chest and my body flared with heat. The slight chill from the afternoon breeze outside had faded. I was now officially hot blooded.

“Follow me,” he said. We moved to the back room, past the sculpture of the woman in the center of the room. Smaller pieces flanked the walls. They were all women in varying poses. “I don’t have many pieces on display right now, I am actually rotating out this series now. I have a buyer, the woman who just left . . .”

“They are lovely,” I said, my gaze moving from sculpture to sculpture. He’d clearly used the same model for all the different pieces, her expression changing from pose to pose. Sitting down she gazed skyward her face wrinkled with laughter. There she sat on a chair her smile strained with unspoken tension. There were so many different moods. Anger. Sadness. Joy. Rapture. He had captured this woman’s soul.

As I walked towards the sculpture in the center of the room I knew without asking who she was. The pivotal sculpture was larger than the rest, lit by a warm yellow light overhead. Naked, the woman’s eyes were closed her smile serene, content. She looked like a woman with a precious secret, arms crossed, her hands rested on her belly protectively, maternally. I gasped as I understood all too quickly how much Theo had lost.

“She was pregnant,” I said, turning to look at him. “This is Grace, the woman you loved. You lost them both.”

He paled even as he stood in the warm sunlight. He inhaled and looked towards the ceiling breathing slowly. His eyes meeting mine, his deep beautiful blue eyes filled with a grief and sadness that made me want to pull him into my arms.

So, I did.

“I’m sorry,” I said, holding him close. “I’m so sorry, Theo.”

“No one knew,” he whispered his voice warm against my ear. “It was early and she was so happy. I’ve never told a soul. Not a single soul.”

I leaned back so I could look up into his face. His pale blue eyes wet with tears, his expression raw with grief but also something that looked like relief.

“Your pain is real,” I said. “But I want you to know that you can be happy again. You taught me that. I want what we started even if it goes nowhere. I want more days and nights. And I know that you may tell me right now that you have rules to protect your heart and it’s really over and that’s okay.”

He looked startled but still said nothing.

“I want you Theo Manhattan, even if you don’t want me.” I felt breathless and dizzy, my body thrumming with energy, I felt a rush of adrenaline racing through my body as I realized I was telling the truth. I was prepared to walk away from him forever, but I wasn’t going to walk away without asking for what I wanted.

“And you aren’t talking,” I said. “Are you in shock, do you want me to leave?”

“Don’t go,” he said, leaning his forehead against mine. “I want you to say it again.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you Theo Manhattan. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any man in my life. No matter what happens. I’m in.”