The Romance Novel Cure (10 page)

Rule number five: It’s not just about taking care of her; it’s about making her feel special. Make sure Greta knows she is special to me.

Rule number six: It’s okay to let her know I care— a lot— about her. Let Greta see that. I care about her.

I had been looking down, feeling shy, but as Ben read, I looked up and watched his face. He was so absorbed in the words. It thrilled me and touched me more than I could express. I felt as though I could never get enough of hearing those words from his mouth, those gorgeous lips that had been kissing me so passionately. I sighed, watching and listening, the words traveling through the air and into my ears and mind, so that I could see the scene unfolding.

* * *

“My turn,” said Silas, quickly rolling on top of Sera, kissing her neck. “So sweet,” he murmured as he licked and caressed her. Silas began to kiss a trail down her belly. Lower, and lower.

* * *

“Oh, no, Ben, no, you have to stop reading,” I squeaked, hiding my face in the pillow.

“What? Stop here? No fair,” he grinned, his face flushed. “You’ve already read this part, you know what happens. I’ve got to find out.”

I listened and listened, needing to sit up and cross my legs, sit back and uncross them, then sit back up and cross them. I tried to do it very subtly, but Ben gave me a wicked look out of the corner of his eyes.

Rule number seven: Do that thing.

As if I’d need a reminder.

By the time that scene was over, I had practically—.

By the time I finished reading that scene, I had almost —.

The next morning, I got up when I heard Greta in the shower. I made tea and opened the drapes, put on some music.

“Hi!” she said, smiling so big when she came into the kitchen. I loved what a morning person she was. She poured herself a cup of tea, got the box of biscotti, and sat at the table next to me on the bench.

“No word from Scott or Patrick?” she asked, seeing my phone by my hand.

“No, but I’m sure I’ll see Scott at work and find out what’s going on,” I said.

“Let me know, okay?”

I nodded.

“Thanks for the tea,” she smiled, after a few moments.

“I should have brought it to you on a tray.”

She pursed her lips and smiled, looking up at the ceiling.

“Seriously hot having you read to me last night,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” I was thrilled.

She nodded.

“I’m so glad,” she started to say, and then fell silent.

“Yeah?” I waited.

“Just so glad, that we’re —.” She gestured between us, darting a look at me and then looking down.

“Yeah.” I nodded, smiling a little.

“I got so messed up about stuff,” she said, still looking down. I waited. “I’m sorry I took it out on you. I pushed you away, and then I started thinking that you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Didn’t want you?” My chest hurt.

“I just thought, things were so hard, and you might have regretted settling down with me, after not having dated a lot.”

I hadn’t dated at all, and she knew that. I shook my head in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I thought you looking at other girls meant you wished you had had more girlfriends, before me,  and… that you wished you could have girlfriends now, not me. You know: be single. Start over.”

My throat hurt. My Greta, going through so much pain, had been thinking these thoughts?

“Never,” I said firmly. “It wasn’t like that. Ever. Okay?”

She nodded, darting a glance at me, and then looking down at the table.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I continued, feeling for words, feeling as though I’d start crying any second. “But for me, porn was just a way to get from point A to point B quickly. And kind of an escape, when I felt frustrated.”

“I know what that’s like,” she blinked back tears, taking a shaky breath. “I read a lot. And… I write. I just get lost in it, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand across the table. “Greta. We’re good? We’re good, right? Or, we’re getting there. I pulled away, too much. I’m sorry. It’s an old, bad habit, me going off by myself like that. When I was a teenager.”

She nodded, smiling so brightly at me, through the tears that still stood in her eyes.

I swallowed past the hurt in my throat. She was so beautiful, so sweet.

“You’re just… you’re the one for me. You’re mine, Greta. And I’m yours. I could never measure up to your romance book guys, but… I love you,” I forced the words out.

“Measure up?” Greta’s eyes widened, “no, it’s not like that. Never.”

All my swagger was gone but I knew it took courage for me to be as honest and open as I was trying to be.

“You’ve got to tell me,” I looked down at her hand in mine, “if there’s anything you want. You know? Anything you think about. Or… read about. That maybe I don’t… you know? Just tell me. Okay?”

“Ben,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes, “it was always so good, with you. With us, I mean. For me. You’ve got to know that.”

I felt as though a huge rock were lifted from my shoulders.

“Yeah?” I started to grin, sliding a little closer on the bench.

Her cheeks got pink. “Heck, yeah.”

I slid a little closer and kissed her cheek, then her neck. She swung a leg over one of mine. She was wearing a skirt and boots. I put a hand on her knee.

Fireworks.

“Oh, gosh, I have to go,” she said, sounding flustered.

I bit back a groan, looking at the time on my phone.

She kissed my cheek quickly, gathered her things and stood by the door. Her cheeks still looked pink. I propped my head on my fist and looked at her.

“We’ve got therapy, I’ll see you there,” she said, breathlessly.

I got up and walked to the door.

“With the child psychologist,” I said.

“Who is actually a child,” she said back, quick as can be.

“Is she a prodigy or is every child psychologist an actual child?”

She was laughing as she left.

I groaned, sank onto the couch, and covered my face with one of the pillows. I bit it.

Greta. Those eyes, her lips, her knees.

At work, I checked Scott’s office. His car hadn’t been in the lot, so I didn’t expect to see him. He still hadn’t texted me. Around ten o’clock he arrived and went straight into his office. I had let Laura and Alma know what was going on, because basically we have no sense of boundaries. I knocked on his door, worried. He never arrived late, never shut his door.

“Come in,” he called, his voice subdued.

His face was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

“Is Patrick home?” I asked.

“Yeah, he finally came home. It was really late. He’d just been driving around, he said, trying to clear his mind.” Scott looked down at his desk.

“I’m sorry things are so hard right now,” I said. “How about I head over to your place at lunch just to pick up the pants and check on him?”

“That would be great. He’s not going into work today. He tends to isolate when he’s upset or depressed.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say or do, so I nodded again and waved awkwardly, backing out of Scott’s office.

I texted Patrick with my plan of coming by and he texted back:
k
.

I left the condo feeling dizzy with desire, happiness, and hope. I couldn’t make myself count my blessings, before, when I felt so messed up, sad, and angry. I tried, but it didn’t work. Now, though, I felt so… blessed.
Lucky
. I felt as though I could face anything. All I wanted was to continue making things right with Ben.

Before I got into my car, I looked at the Sandia mountains. I loved to pretend to take a picture of them every day, every time I looked at them. If I were by myself I even made a little clicking noise, and held my hands up to frame the mountains. In the morning, the afternoon, and at sunset, they looked different, each time. I felt so lucky to be in the presence of such beauty.

Was I still sad? Yes. To be honest, I think a part of me always would be. But I was moving on. I still felt fragile, but stronger every day.

I think I had just needed that time.

I was sorry it had come at such a cost to my marriage. Sorry I had hurt the person I loved most in the world.

But, I had hope.

I was figuring it out, finding my way back to Ben.

I smoothed my skirt against my legs. It was a skirt I had worn in the summer, but I had the idea to wear it with my suede boots and a sweater, and it worked.

Things felt as though they were working out.

Patrick let me in the house with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He had several pairs of pants for me packed into a large bag, and I thanked him.

“You… you okay?” I asked tentatively.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, turning into the kitchen. “You want some soup? I made some. It’s gluten free. It has…” He started to rattle off the ingredients.

“Sure, cool, thanks,” I said. “If you’ll eat with me?”

He stopped, sagged against the counter.

“I can’t eat,” he said, rubbing his face. “I can’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I remember when Greta first got diagnosed, I said some really stupid things, trying to help her feel better. Trying to find the silver lining. It backfired, I could see, looking back, and just made Greta feel more alone with what she was feeling. So, I tried hard not to say anything dumb.

“It’s just not fair,” I said. “You’d be… you’d be such a great dad.”

“Thanks,” he said, quietly, looking down.

We were quiet for a moment.

“It just… it brings up a lot for me,” he continued in that quiet voice, “like, I’m not good enough. Who I am.”

“Yeah,” I said, just as quiet. “But, you are. And I believe… that you’ll look back at this time, and you’ll be a father.”

Patrick crossed his arms and sniffed. He wiped a finger delicately under his eyes, reminding me of Greta.

He took a quick breath. “Let me pack this soup up for you guys at work, okay? You all can have some after yoga. You’re missing yoga!”

“I wanted to check on you,” I said.

“Thanks, Ben,” he said, nodding, handing me a large container of the soup.

I thanked him. We walked to my car together, Patrick placing the bag of pants lovingly in the car.

“I mean it, thanks,” he said softly, over his shoulder as he turned to go back into the house.

Ben texted me in the afternoon. He would pick me up so we could go to therapy together. When I was done for the day, I went to my car to put my lunch bag away in my trunk, and Elijah’s dad, Daniel, stopped on the way to his car.

“Look, buddy, it’s Ms. Greta,” he said, making Elijah’s little hand wave. I had been the person who gave Daniel a tour of the school when he was first interested in enrolling Elijah, who was just six months old at that time. Our director was out sick, so I introduced him to the infant teachers, showed him around, and gave him all of our paperwork. Daniel had full custody of Elijah, and needed to go back to work full-time, so after relying on family for help with childcare, he needed a more consistent, reliable option. Probably because I was his first contact, Daniel seemed to bond with me, and often stopped by to say hello over the last couple of months, even though I worked with the toddlers, and not the infants.

Elijah grinned at me.

“Wow, two more teeth!” I exclaimed.

“He’ll be in your class before we know it,” Daniel cuddled Elijah and looked at me, smiling. “Getting to be such a little man.”

Elijah waved his arms.

“Oh, you’re saying hi to Ms. Greta, huh? You want to be in her class and see her all day, huh?”

I laughed. Just then Ben pulled up. He came over quickly and slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

“Hi, I’m Greta’s husband, Ben,” he said.

“This is Elijah and his father, Daniel,” I said, gesturing.

Daniel shook Ben’s hand and took a step back.

“Bye,” he said, nodding.

“See you tomorrow,” I said, waving to Elijah.

Ben kept his arm around my waist, keeping me against his side. He leaned down to press a kiss on my cheek.

The air was starting to get cooler as the sun got lower, and I shivered. Ben ran his hands down my shoulders to my hands and back up again, facing me. I leaned back against my car and Ben pressed just a little closer. My heart started racing.

“Mr. Tattoo Sleeves chatting you up?” he murmured.

“What?” I laughed.

“I know the signs,” he said darkly, but with a hint of a smile on his mouth. His eyes were big and serious, though.

“Ben,” I smiled and shook my head.

“You kidding me?” His head dipped again and he kissed my cheek, closer to my mouth this time. He kept his mouth right there. “Of course he’s interested. Of course he has a mad crush on the beautiful, kind, smart, funny, hot teacher. Who wouldn’t be feeling that way?”

I blushed and shivered again. This was ridiculous. This was making me feel tingles everywhere.

“And I’m the guy that gets to go home with you.” He kissed me on the mouth, gently, quickly.

My knees got completely shaky.

“And the guy that gets to take you to marriage counseling,” he added wryly, stepping back, grinning at me, shrugging one shoulder. I laughed. He took my hand and we went to his car. I didn’t want to let go of his hand when he opened the passenger side door for me.