“WHAT ARE YOU
doing?”
Kaz’s voice fills me with joy. “Thinking about your house and tracking down a rug for a very demanding actress. What are you doing?”
“I like that you’re thinking about my house, but I can’t help but want you to be thinking about other things of mine.”
“Is this you flirting, Kaz?” I sit back in my chair and start a slow spin, loving that he called me.
“I suck at it, don’t I? Maybe that’s why I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You don’t suck… well, sometimes you do, but I liked it.” I bite the end of the pen in my hand, grinning.
“I do suck better at some things than others.”
“As a firsthand witness to your sucking, your sucking does not suck at all, just so you know. And I like your flirting. Go on…”
“I’ll go on and on when I’m back tomorrow. I want to see you.”
My heart eats up his deep voice and playful words. “Is this a professional call or personal?”
“Can’t it be both?”
“I don’t normally mix business and pleasure.”
He chuckles. “I thought we already had this talk about exceptions.”
“Ahhh yes, you are definitely one worth making an exception for.”
“You’re not too sucky at this flirting thing either, Ms. Kessler.”
“Thanks. I’ve had many years of experience.”
“And here I thought I was special.” He sounds pouty on the other end of the line. “How much experience are we talking about anyway? Girl-next-door innocent or Call Girl?”
“Those are my choices? Wow, you don’t leave much gray area. How about Catholic school girl?”
“I’m impressed. You were wild then.”
“I’m wild now,” I joke, spinning around again in the chair.
“You’re beautiful too.” I bite my lip, not sure how to follow such sweetness. He lowers his voice. “Too soon?”
I’m shaking my head though he can’t see me. “No, you’ve got perfect timing.”
He lightens the conversation back up and says, “I am a musician. Timing is everything.”
“Yep, timing is everything. As for the house, I’d love to see it.”
“Oh yeah, the house. Dinner at the new place around seven?”
“That works for me. I’ll need to take measurements and pictures for reference.”
“Are we still talking about my house?”
I burst out laughing. Repeating what he once told me, I say, “Not at all.”
“Good because we have all night.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
His tone gets husky, an element of appeal that conjures naughty thoughts of the last time we were together. “Goodbye, Lara.”
As I type the appointment into my planner and sync my phone with the program, my stomach fills with fluttering butterflies of the most wonderful kind.
I still have so much to process with my love life. The butterflies for Kaz have definitely jaded my thoughts toward Mark. I stare out the large window overlooking my backyard and realize Mark jaded my thoughts when he hurt me, not Kaz. Surely Mark can’t think we’ll get back together after what happened or with how bad things were before we talked. Everything happens for a reason and thinking back on what Kaz said, timing is everything, and maybe
our
timing is perfect.
MY TEST RESULTS
came back clean and I can finally relax. Or so I thought…
Flowers start arriving around two o’clock and don’t stop until nine when the final bunch is hand delivered by Mark himself.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shoving the bouquet at me.
With flowers against my chest, I wrap one arm around them and keep one hand on the door. I stand there in shock that he has the nerve to show up like this. “What are you doing here?” I hold the flowers out, not wanting them. “And take these. I don’t want them.”
“You said we could talk.”
“I did say that, but I don’t see the point.”
He walks past me without my permission and I step back, intimidated by his stature. Holding the flowers out to him again, he sees the change in my expression. He must see the fear I wear so obviously as my hands shake. His eyes set on mine, and he says, “You know I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, Lara. I wouldn’t hurt you. Not ever. I love you. You believe me, right? Right?”
“Mark—”
“Don’t say my name like that. I can hear the change in your tone.” He quickly grabs hold of my arms and the bouquet falls to the ground. His grip is firm as I cower down. “I love you,” he pleads, shadowing me. “My love for you is real, Lara. You have to believe me. I’ve never felt like this for anyone.”
Fear snowballs in the pit of my stomach. “I believe you,” I whisper, not sure if I even hear my voice. His hold on me loosens just enough for me to slip out and back away toward the couch. I’m hoping to make it to the other side, to have something large and solid between us. “We can talk. All right?”
“Sit,” he commands.
I sit down knowing I can’t get to my phone in the office downstairs without him catching me and doing who knows what to me.
“Thank you,” he says, sounding calmer as he sits in the chair across from me. This is the Mark I know, but I’m guarded by the sudden turn. “I don’t know what happened last night, but I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Or after the other incident? How can you promise that when you don’t know what happened?”
“Lara, please. Just trust me. You know I would never hurt you on purpose—”
“You hurt me last night and it seemed like it was on purpose. I have bruises to prove it.” I push up the sleeves of my robe and show him the scratches on the top and bruises where his thumbs dug into me. “You hurt me just now.”
He sucks in a breath. It stutters in his throat as he stares at the bruising. His head shakes. “I didn’t do that.”
Confused by his reaction, I reason, “You did, Mark.”
Standing up, he looks down at me. “I’ll make this up to you. Flowers won’t heal this mess.”
I hold the arm of the couch, bracing myself. “You don’t have to heal this mess. We’re not together anymore.”
“No.” He stands there looking strong, his chest appearing bigger than a moment earlier. “What happened last night won’t happen again. I promise you. I had a rough day and you weren’t there. I was upset. Practice sucked. I was benched half the day. I just want us together.” Kneeling down in front of me, I see the desperation in his eyes. Seeing this strong man breaking before me is hard to watch despite the incident from the night before. “Please, Lara. I need you.” His head drops to my knees and I hear him sniffle.
“Mark—”
“Please don’t say my name like that. Say it like you used to, like when you loved me.”
“I can’t. I’m here, but only as a friend.”
Friend
is being generous, but I’ll say what I need to right now.
I just need him to leave.
He wails in distress and I’m not sure if I should try to comfort him or not. “Please don’t do this. I’ll be good.”
Refusing to kick someone when they’re down, my defenses crumble. “Maybe you can be better. Maybe you won’t hurt me again, but my heart is not in this, Mark. Please. You have to let me go and move on.”
“I can’t. We’re so good together. I screwed up and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be better.”
My heart’s not racing from fear, and my hands aren’t shaking anymore. Seeing a man of his size—of his demeanor—break is heartbreaking in itself. I do what I know I shouldn’t, but can’t help. I stroke his hair as his head lies in my lap.
THE NEXT DAY
I walk into the restaurant and hang my purse by the strap on the back of the chair. Exasperated, I say to Rochelle, “I have so much to talk about.”
She laughs. “I have so much to talk about too, but you go first.”
I slide into my chair and scoot up to the table. “Did you order wine?”
“I did. Of course. This isn’t my first rodeo.” I laugh just as two glasses of wine arrive along with the bottle in an ice bucket. “You go first,” she says.
“I spent the night with Kaz and then I spent another.”
“That was fast,” she says, relaxing back with the menu in hand as if she expected it all along. Maybe she did. “How do you feel about that?”
I reach for my glass of wine, needing someone else’s perspective on the situation. Rochelle will never utter a word to anyone about it, so I know I can trust her. “I like him, Ro. Is it too soon? Am I just confused because of the breakup with Mark?”
She leans forward. “Not too soon if you don’t regret it.”
“I don’t, but I feel like I should.”
“Why? You’re both recently single, young, hot. You’re both creative types. Sounds like a match made in Hollywood Heaven.”
The waitress arrives, takes our orders, and tops up our glasses. When she leaves, Rochelle says, “You’ve dated someone famous and understand the baggage that comes with that fame. Be upfront with him and demand the same from him. Secrets destroy happiness.”
“That’s why they’re secrets.”
Our salads are delivered, but my stomach is in knots. She adds, “You’ve worked hard to build your reputation and career. It’s very admirable.”
“Thank you.” Thinking of Kaz, I ask, “Are we moving too quickly?”
“You both just broke up with your others, but that doesn’t mean it should dictate your future relationships. Do what feels right.”
I nod in agreement because she’s right. “Maybe we should slow down.” I’m starved and start eating like it’s going to be stolen from me.
“So what if you didn’t. We’re adults and if it felt good and no one was hurt, just keep doing what you’re doing. Anyway, I like you two together. And Mark is on the same page now?”
“I think he understands we’re done.”
“You think?” she asks, her fork clanging against the porcelain plate.
“We are. We’re done.”
Her eyes are set, her complete attention on me. “What is going on, Lara?”
“Nothing,” I lie, not wanting to expose the dirty details with Mark. “I told you. I slept with Kaz, and it was great.”
“You actually didn’t tell me the sex was great, so good to know, and ick. He’s like a brother to me.”
I laugh, and roll my eyes. “One minute you’re pushing me on him and the next you’re grossed out.”
“Yeah, I want you together, but I don’t want the details.” Now she’s laughing.
“Good, because I don’t want to share them.”
The laughter stops and a wave of heaviness rolls in. When I look up she asks, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.” I’m lying. I’m shaken and a little wounded on the outside and a lot on the inside, but my shame feels more powerful at the moment. I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. It’s embarrassing to admit, so I put on a smile for her, and say, “I’m fine.”
“It’s good to see you happy again. You deserve it. You deserve someone who treats you with respect. As for the details, maybe a few. I need to live vicariously for a few minutes before I return to mommyhood.”
In minutes, spending time with my friend has turned around my whole day. I feel so much better than I did after saying I would be Mark’s friend last night. My relationship with him is thick with deceit. It’s nice to have the reprieve.