Something Like This (Secrets) (27 page)

“Please open the door.”

“I was going to start painting my room.”

“What?”

“I bought some paint today. I always wanted to paint my room purple.”

“Jadie?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still love me?”

I felt as if all of the oxygen I needed to be able to breathe exited my body.

“Do you still love me?” he asked again.

I made my body take in air. “Yes.”

“Then open the door.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“I missed you. I thought about you every day,” he said.

“You didn’t call or text.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I wanted to. I almost did.”

“I almost did, too.”

“Reece?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Always.”

My eye forced out tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your mom. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I ran away from you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I realized something.”

“What?”

“I can’t be without you. I can’t breathe without you. I’m in love with you.”

I walked to the door and opened it.

“I can’t be without you, either,” I said.

He caressed my face and kissed me. With his lips on mine, I opened my heart again to the possibility of happiness.

Raising my arms, he lifted my shirt over my head.

I unbuttoned his pants.

“I love you,” he whispered into my ear.

“I missed you so much,” I said.

Sweeping me into his arms, he said, “Do you forgive me?”

I stared into his eyes as he carried me to the bed. “Only if you forgive me.”

Once on the bed, he traced his fingers around my nipples, causing me to moan.

Softly, he ran his tongue along my nipples and then neck. I moaned louder.

His fingers slid to my inner thighs and gently opened my legs.

“We forgive each other?” I asked, my body threatening to ignite if he didn’t enter me.

“Yes,” he whispered.

And then he pressed into me, and I closed my eyes and thought of no one but him.

Later, just when I was drifting into sleep in Reece’s arms, he said, “I’ll help you paint your room.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. You’re my girl.”

I was his and he was mine. And with that thought in my mind, I fell asleep.

––––––––

O
n my way to work the next day, I saw my father. He was digging through trash cans. I dashed across the street and went up to him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, taking hold of his hand before he could pull something out of the trash.

“Leave me alone,” he said.

“You’re my father. Let me help you.”

He shook his hand free and resumed digging.

“Papi, stop it. You don’t have to do this.” I wanted to pick him up and carry him to safety.

“Don’t call me papi. I’m no one’s father anymore. Why can’t you accept that I don’t want your help? I don’t want anyone’s help.”

I wiped away my tears. “If you don’t want my help, then why are you here?”

His eyes met mine.

“This isn’t the only place that has trash cans. If you really want to live like this, if you really don’t want help, then find another street. I think you came back here because you do want help. You want
my
help.”

He looked down at his feet and then at me. “I’m lost.”

I took his hand and started leading him across the street.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Some place warm.”

I was taking my father to the coffee shop where Reece and I had had our first date. I didn’t care who saw us.

When we entered, a few people turned our way. I led my father to a table near the window. I was not embarrassed. Aunt Conchita had told me to fight, to put myself in his life and I was doing just that.

“I’m going to get you something to eat. Stay here,” I said.

He nodded. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Three minutes later, I returned with muffins, a bagel and some orange juice. I put everything in front of him.

“Go ahead,” I said.

His eyes filled with tears, he picked up the cup of juice and took a sip. “It’s good.”

“Try one of the muffins.”

He brought a blueberry muffin to his mouth and bit off a small piece.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Si. It’s very good. Are you going to have one?”

“I bought them for you.”

“Don’t you have to get to work?” he asked.

“I have a few minutes.”

“You shouldn’t be late.”

“I won’t be.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For not trying hard enough.”

“You’re here. You
are
trying.”

I took out a card from my wallet and held it in front of him. “Call me, any time. Whenever you want to talk or just want to hear my voice.”

Wiping away a tear and taking the card, he said, “You still have the bracelet I gave you.”

I glanced at my wrist. “I rarely take it off.”

“I don’t want to see you again until I’m better, until you can be proud of me again.” He moved the muffins and bagel around on the table.

“You can eat them. They’re yours.”

“I should share them with others.”

“You have friends?”

“They’re not friends.”

“Are they homeless, too?”

“Yes.”

“I hate that you won’t let me help you. It makes me mad.”

He took a bite of the cranberry muffin. “This one is better.”

I removed my bracelet and slid it to him on the table. “Take it.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“Pawn it. Sell it. I don’t care what you do with it.”

“I can’t.”

I stood. “I have to go. I can’t be late for work.”

“Take your bracelet.”

“Call me whenever you want.”

Once outside, I dared not look through the window at my father. He had my bracelet and my number. I had put myself in his life. Now, it was up to him to let me stay.

As I walked to work, I called Aunt Conchita.

“Tia, I did it.”

“Muy bueno. Now, tell me what you did,” she said.

“I saw him again. And I gave him my number. Do you think he’ll call me?”

“Your father?”

“Yes.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Do you think he’ll call me?”

“He might.”

“I hope he does.”

“I hope he does, too.”

“Tia?”

“Si.”

“When are you coming?”

“Soon.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, Tia.”

“I love you, too.”

“See you soon?”

“Very.”

“Bye, Tia.”

“Adios.”

***

W
hen I got to my desk, Tom was sitting on the couch in the waiting area.

“Heads up. He’s not happy,” Tom said.

I knew he was referring to Mr. Walker.

I rested my purse on the chair. “What happened?”

“You
is
what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re late.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Barely.”

“Seven minutes. That’s not, barely. Not today, anyway.”

“He came into my office looking for you, twice.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll go see him.”

“Good luck.”

I sighed an extra long sigh and prepared myself for what was waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Knocking, I said, “Mr. Walker, may I come in?”

“Come in.”

Slowly, I walked inside. “Tom said you were looking for me.”

He was sitting on his couch, reading a newspaper. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry.”

He put the paper down on the coffee table. “You told me you were going to focus on work. You told me you were going to do everything you could to help save this agency.”

“I’m focused.” I wanted to escape.

“How can you be focused when you arrive to this office late? And this isn’t the first time. The other times I let slide even though I shouldn’t have.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

“I promise.”

“I need you, but not if you’re not fully committed. Tom is focused on doing what he needs to do to help save us. I need you to do what you need to do.”

“I won’t be late again, I swear it.”

“Good, because if you are, don’t bother coming in.”

“Understood.” I was on the brink of tears.

“You may go.”

I turned.

“Jadie.”

I froze, but didn’t turn around to face him.

“We’re under pressure. I’m under a lot of pressure. I wasn’t wrong to hire you. You belong here. You’re good. But, I need to see more from you.”

A tear rolled down my face. Mr. Walker had no way of knowing I was late because I had spent some time with my homeless father. And even if he had known, he was right about me needing to concentrate on my job. It wasn’t Mr. Walker’s fault that my father was homeless.

“Thank you,” I said and walked out.

I switched my computer on and pulled out a stack of manuscripts from my drawer.

Tom reappeared. “You okay?”

“Not now,” I said.

“If it makes you feel any better, he let me have it yesterday.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I asked if I could leave a few minutes early.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that if I was committed to the agency, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“He has a lot on his mind,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

I laughed. “For now.”

“I’ll let you get back to work before he hears us and comes out yelling at us.”

“Or worse.”

“Let me know if you want to brainstorm.”

“Okay.”

Mr. Walker’s chewing-out-session had left me a little rattled, but it had also given me a kick in the pants.

––––––––

R
eece was waiting for me outside when I left work at 7:00. I had stayed longer than I usually did because I wanted to show Mr. Walker I had taken his words seriously.

“Ready?” Reece asked when he saw me.

He had made reservations at Rasika, a highly praised and popular Indian restaurant at which you had to make reservations weeks in advance.

I slid my hand into his. “I need a glass of wine.”

“Bad day at work?” he asked, leading me to his car, which was parked on a side street.

“I read a ton of manuscripts.”

“Any good ones?”

“Not a one.”

He opened the car door for me and went around to the driver’s side.

“Maybe Rasika will cheer you up,” he said, once he was inside.

“As long as they have wine.”

He leaned in and kissed me. “Still need wine?”

“Hmm, less so, but I think you better kiss me again.”

His lips touched mine and he slowly kissed me, his hands moving down between my legs.

“Better?” he asked.

“Maybe we should skip the restaurant,” I said.

“Tempting. Have you ever been there?”

“No.”

“Then I have to take you. Even though what I really want to do is get you in my bed and do all kinds of things to you.”

“Promise we’ll eat fast.”

“Faster than I’ve ever eaten,” he said.

“Well, then go, drive.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting at a table for two, a foot away from another couple.

“The tables are so close to each other,” I whispered to Reece.

“They like to keep things intimate.”

“Intimate with strangers?”

“Reece!” someone shouted.

I looked to see where the voice was coming from.

A guy sitting with two other guys and a girl stood and came over to us.

“Hey man, how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said to Reece.

Reece raised his gaze to him. “I’m good.”

“Really? That’s great. That’s really good to hear. How’s your mom?”

“She’s good.”

“And Connor?”

“He’s good, too.”

“So, you’re good, then?”

“Yes,” Reece said.

“I’m Ash,” he said to me.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jadie.”

Ash was tall, definitely six feet. Blonde hair and blue eyes, he was very good looking.

“It was great seeing you,” Reece said to Ash.

“That’s it? I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I’ve been busy writing.”

“And how long have you two been together? Or is this a first date?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Reece said.

“Wow. Okay. Well, Jadie, Reece here is my best friend. We’ve known each other since sixth grade. But, I bet he’s never mentioned me.”

The waiter brought Reece and me a glass of water. I reached for mine immediately.

“Ash, I’ll call you, okay?” Reece said.

“I need to get back to my table. See the girl?” Ash said, his stare on the other table. “Her name is Jacky. We started seeing each other a couple weeks back.”

“She’s pretty,” I said.

“Not as pretty as you are. I can see why Reece has devoted all his time to you and no longer has time for his friends.”

“Ash,” Reece said.

“I’m going. Take care of him, Jadie. He may act like he’s okay, but he’s not.”

“You’ve never mentioned him,” I said to Reece once Ash was gone.

He sipped water. “I never felt I had to.”

“Is he really your best friend?”

“He was.”

“What happened?”

“My father died.”

“And so you cut off ties?”

“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

“He’s obviously hurt.”

“I know he is.”

“You can talk to me about it.”

He opened his menu. “Do you know what you want?”

“I haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“You have to try the crispy spinach. It’s amazing. It’s what made this place famous.”

I gave my menu a quick look and then put it down. “Are you really going to call Ash?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We drifted apart.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”