Where Would I Be Without You (8 page)

"So this is date two.  Tomorrow after your work is date three.  Perhaps I should give you Thursday and Friday off and make Saturday date four.  Then if you are up for it..." 
He paused as I was giving him the pouty sad girl face.

"What's wrong?"  His voice held genuine concern.  I was good, no great, at the pouty girl face. 
It even won me a part in the high school play for a, don't laugh, poor sad girl.

I let him off the hook quickly with a teasing laughter.  "Who says I need a night
off?  Work goes so much better if I know I have a boyfriend to come home to."

"Then we should make plans for Thursday and Friday."  He smiled over at me with a serious look to his face.  Could he be feeling what I was feeling?  It was
as if neither of us could not get enough of each other.

"That would be nice."
  My voice trailed with the word nice on an elongated note.

We
did not decide right then and there about what to do; it was as if just knowing we were going to do something together that made both of us relax and polish off two pieces of cake and two more glasses of milk.  When we were done, he cleared the plates and glasses and began to wash them off in the sink with dish soap and set them on the dish rack next to the sink.

I had to tease.  "You know, watching you do dishes is like porn for
a woman, only it would be more erotic if your shirt was off."

He stopped
washing a glass, set it back in the sink, and took his shirt off and flung it towards me, almost knocking the lit candle over.  We both started to laugh at my quick reflexes to grab the shirt in midair with my left hand while catching the lit candle in my right.  I blew both candles out and watched him turn back around to the sink.  As soon as he did, I held his shirt up to my nose and breathed in deep.  His cologne scent of something fresh was on it mixed with the smell of his skin that intoxicated me.  Without him turning, he talked to me with his back to me.

"I saw that in the window reflection."  Then he turned to me, soapy
dishcloth in one hand, chocolate-covered fork in the other, and a very nice set of muscular abs and chest muscles that made me swoon.  Through his window was one thing, in my kitchen doing dishes, I was in trouble.

"You look busted."  He joked.

"I feel busted.  That's not me.  A normal me.  Smelling your clothes."  Then I paused.  I might as well warn him now.  "Ok.  I... I have a secret."  I raised one eyebrow and looked at him with my head diverted down but my eyes slightly looking up at him with my head tilted.  He seemed to be waiting patiently for my secret.  I finally got out the words.  "I don't always do the common sense thing.  Sometimes I do really stupid things.  Maybe even immature."  The last word eked out of me slow and long.

He shrugged his shoulders and tossed the fork in
the sink.  "Who doesn't."  Then he walked over, motioned for me to stand.  I did, and then he picked me up while I started to giggle, and he carried me to the kitchen countertop.  He set my butt on the counter and stood between my legs with my head in his hands.  "Where would I be without you right now?  Sitting on my couch watching the game?  Trolling on the Internet for a girlfriend?  Fixing some old farts whatever that is broken?  Instead, I am here with you, and you are the most mature thing I want to think about.  I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, ask my father.  The night I put you to sleep naked in your bed after watching you do whatever it was that you were doing; I couldn't stop thinking about you.  You are real, and I like what is happening here."

I said it as I felt it.  "Gulp."

"Sorry too much, too soon."  He sounded worried, but I wasn't.  What he just said made a hell of a lot of sense.  We were two lost souls looking for our mate, and fate put us across the building from each other.  I would have wanted the first time he met me not to be a drunk naked passed out stupor, yet he didn't hold that against me.  I needed to tell him everything, about Steve, my mom's control and inability to love me just as I am, my need to have Marion in every part of my life, which meant he would have to love her just as much, and my crazy aunt, my perfect sister, all of it.  For now, I grabbed his head, slammed my lips against his, and began kissing him with all the craziness I felt deep inside of me; that feeling caused tangling tongue and heavy breathing.

It took several minutes before I realized that things were going to progress too
far, too soon, and we both knew that taking this a bit slower was better for making something out of this.  I felt his excitement, and I knew my own was off the charts molten mess.  We both seemed to pull away at the same time, and we pressed our foreheads against each other while breathing hard.  I finally found the words to speak up.

"I think I should be the one to question, where would I be without you?  My common sense doesn't become me.  It takes me for a joyride from
time to time, and I end up in a lot of trouble.  I have a confession to make."

He laughed at my reference.  "What is it?"

"Well.  You may not like this.  Ok.  Here it goes.  Tomorrow, after I am officially thirty, I need to act more grown up.  Be responsible.  Take a college class.  Volunteer.  Do things that are thought through and not spur of the moment, 'hey that seems like a great idea'.  I think you might find me rather dull after I turn thirty."

He laughed with a soft sound and then held my face as he looked into my eyes.  "Doubt it.  But hey, if you need a support group in this new
challenge, I'm up for it."

It was as if the gates of heaven opened
up, and a spotlight shined down on him while angels sang, and heavenly music cued in.  Therefore, I looked at him questioningly and asked.  "Really?  You want to help me be a better person?"

"Only if you do.  I like you the way you
are, and I googled you.  Sorry, force of habit.  Had a few crazy girlfriends in my past; you think your Steve guy is crazy, I can one up him.  Besides I couldn't take you on Sunday to meet my parents if I didn't.  House rules for all of us kids.  Besides, I could do a little growing up on my own.  Maybe we could help each other out."

I was shocked.  Ok.  Not about the Google thing because it was almost a prerequisite to dating anymore.  Perhaps I would not be in so much trouble if I had done that with Steve. 
Admitting to crazy girlfriends didn't shock me because with his looks and the way he carries himself, I was sure he attracted everything, even the odd ones.  It was the fact that he already wanted me to meet his parents.  He talked about how formal his family was as we tried to create a diversion last night from other things.  Talking family seemed to quickly cool both of us down.  It felt good to be with a man whose family was as judgmental, competitive, and crazy as mine, although his did seem to have a lot more money and structure.  I guess you don't have to be poor to be dysfunctional, rich people do it just as well.

"Hey Mason.  I'm glad things are turning out much better for me.  Only a week ago, things were a bit different."

He lifted me off the counter and set me on my feet.  "We should probably try to find another distraction for a bit, before we get too excited again."  I had to agree.  I found him a bit too irresistible, and talking about life seems to put things back into perspective for us.

I grabbed his hand to pull him
towards my front room to try out the new window seat cushion.  He grabbed his tee shirt off the chair as we walked by.  We sat down in the window seat facing each other and looked at each other in the face.  I felt my demon girl side get bothered by the fact he put his shirt back on, as my mature woman side agreed, it was for the best.

"Your sister has good taste.  It's
soft, and I like the blue silky fabric."

"I told her that your favorite color is blue."

I looked at him inquisitively.  "How did you know that?"

"Blue curtains, light blue couch, blue comforter and when I folded your laundry, most of your clothes were in shades of blue.  My sisters told me that a
woman's favorite color would show in her clothes and how she decorates.  Having three sisters, I do learn a lot about women."

I laughed.  "Then you are already broken in and know the game rules.  Gosh, you're going to be an easy boyfriend.  Wait here.  I am going to grab some cushions to lean against instead of the wall."

I walked over to my couch to grab some decorative cushions off, and before I could turn back around to walk over to the window seat, Mason stood there right in front of me.  He pulled my body into his, causing me to drop the pillows, and he started to kiss me.  When he pulled back, he joked.  "Not a good idea to bend over in front of me right now."

We both stood there staring at each other with an internal battle of taking this date so much further.  Then I spoke.  "Well, I'm not officially grown up until tomorrow."

He replied without hesitation.  "Yet, something tells me we might want to wait a few more nights.  You mean more to me than an overnight quickie."

"Really?"  I was taken aback.  A man was stopping me from being stupid.

"Besides.  One day to thirty is just a day.  If you really want to do the mature thing, not that I do, but I know it will be better for both of us if we did, then waiting a few more days would be better, don't you think?"

So it's now that I meet the mature man I need in my life, yet all
I wanted to do was something stupid like sleep with him sexually on only our second date.  I knew it never ended well sleeping with a man too soon.  However, with the kind of sexual attraction we both seemed to be having, how could I wait?  I plopped my butt down on the couch in my work pants and Crawley blue polo shirt and crossed my arms in front of me, started my pouting routine and breathed out a huge puff of air.

He let out a light laughter and sat next to me.  "It's not so bad.  You're
Catholic, I'm Catholic, although from the sounds of it, we both don't practice it.  It's just something about you makes me want to establish something more.  I guess what I have to tell you next might make sense as to why I am doing this."  He paused for a big intake of breath.  "My last four girlfriends ended poorly.  All of which were more sexual attractions then any friendship.  I jumped in with guns loaded and fired.  In other words, it was nothing more than sex.  With you, I feel it.  The connection.  The desire to make it more than just sex.  I guess we could blame my sister and her Catholic lecture of don't you dare, and you better wait and make sure.  Kind of lame, especially for a man my age?"

I took a second to think about
that, and I turned my body towards him then looked at him straight in the face.  "Not really.  Actually, it's pretty smart and self-controlled.  Something I lack a lot of at times.  Hey..."  I reached out and held his hand.  "Let's pick a number and tell ourselves that if we make it to that date number than we can lift the restriction of sex.  What's your favorite number?"

"Two but that would make it tonight."  He flashed a wicked smile and winked.

"Ugh.  Ok.  Mine is two too."  We both started to laugh.  Then I asked.  "Pick a number between one and twenty."

"Twenty.  That's too long to ask
me to wait."  He looked shocked, and I started to laugh.

"Seven. 
Luck be a lady that night.  Date seven and if we decide that night that we can be mature adults after, well you know, then we will have a go at it."

"Oh I won't just have a go at
it; I will conquer and succeed."

"Men!"  I could not put much more thought into that comment because he started to kiss me and wrap me up into his arms.  When he pulled away, he
pulled me into his body on the couch while sitting; I clicked on the TV and asked what he liked to watch.  He replied with a simple 'anything with you', so I handed him the remote.  Not that I would always do that, but we were just starting out on this dating thing.  I had an impression to make.

Chapter Seven

At ten eleven a.m. today,
while sitting at my desk at work and watching the seconds click by on the big office clock on the wall, I officially turned thirty.  I had a wave of somberness come over me, and then a floral delivery came with a huge bouquet of blue and white flowers.  The card from Mason simply read:  Happy Birthday.  Whatever feeling was in my soul about getting older faded away with the possibilities of a thing happening between Mason and myself.  I decided then and there that the Steve's of the world were long out of my life, and I was marching forth with my plan of maturity now and with any luck with Mason's help as he indicated.

Just as I was thinking about the future Mrs.
Montahue, which would be me, striving forward with an education, charitable duties, and a drop-dead gorgeous husband with possible kids on the way, a familiar voice dropped me out of the clouds.

"Amber dear, I thought it might be nice if you and I had lunch today for your birthday." 
There, before me, in my five by five cubicle, with a voice that could duplicate nails on a chalkboard if she so desired, was my mom.  All five feet three inches of her and short brown hair with a lot of gray showing through, donning a very nice pastel blue dress as if she was going to church, stood the woman I had not bothered to call back since Sunday night's fiasco.  It seemed so long ago as Mason had been filling my every moment with thoughts of could he be and what ifs and oh my, I shouldn't be thinking of doing that at a time like this.