15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
“The father’s role in the child’s life is primarily as a protector and a disciplinarian. The new mother should not expect the father to employ a hands-on approach, only ensure there is a supportive environment and provide for the financial needs of mother and child.”
A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood
Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)
W hen I finally got home, many hours later, I found J.B. in the living room watching television. Early bedtimes aren’t his thing, even when he has the night off. I was not surprised to see my cat in his customary place lying on a magazine on the coffee table, surveying me with half-closed eyes. He—the cat—also didn’t seem surprised to see me. I flopped onto the couch beside J.B., holding my head.
″Well, hello there,” J.B. said, looking amused. “Doesn’t look like you’ve had a good night.”
″Not really. I had to listen to Morgan complain all night about what an utter bastard Anil is for breaking up with her.”
″Pretty pissed, eh?”
″If I was Anil, I would not want to meet Morgan in a dark alley.” I began to knead my temples. After dinner, Brit left to meet Tom, but Morgan didn’t want to go home alone and convinced me to go a nearby pub and get a drink with her. I don’t know how long we stayed there, but it was long enough for me to develop a monstrous headache from the noise and (no offense to Morgan) the monotony of the conversation. Normally, when I play the listener, I end up drinking way more than I should, just to have something to do between nods and sympathetic noises. But tonight I somehow managed to keep it to three glasses. I can’t keep trying to make believe I’m twenty-five any longer. Thirty-six is rushing me like a three-hundred-pound linebacker, followed by the evil thirty-seven, and it’s time to begin acting my age. I used to be able to spend the night drinking and then wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to go to work, only to continue the cycle that night again, but I can’t do that anymore. Well, I can, but I need to stop.
″Here.” J.B. shifted on the couch and turned me so that my back was facing him. He began to rub my shoulders, and at that first touch, I almost swooned at how nice it felt. “She’s pretty pissed, is she?”
″Who?” I asked dreamily. J.B.’s hands are big and strong, and I could feel the tension drain out of me like a slow leak in a balloon.
″Morgan. The person you spent the evening with.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just that you should really think of taking up massage therapy, you know. But yeah, Morgan. She’s very, very pissed,” I agreed, returning with a thunk to reality. “The worst thing is that Anil’s not saying why—I think it’s probably some other woman, but I’m not about to tell Morgan that. I’m afraid it will put her over the edge. Mmmm,” I gave a little moan, my eyes slowly closing. So much for Morgan. “That feels so good.” J.B.’s hands were moving from my shoulders to the back of my neck and then onto my head, giving me a better scalp massage than even my hairstylist does.
″You’ve got so much hair,” J.B. said quietly. His fingers were tangled in my red curls.
″I’ll never know how Libby didn’t end up with some of it, even the colour. And it’s bad when I go out with the girls, and it’s the three of us, with Brit and Morgan and their perfect blondeness and me with all this frizz. I’ve always understood Anne of Green Gables going on about how horrible it is to have carrot-red hair.”
″Well, I happen to like it. You’re like a frizzy carrot.”
″Thanks, Jerk.” J.B. tugged a hank of my hair in response.
″So, fun with Morgan tonight, I guess. But are you going to tell me what went wrong with the old ex, or save it for Cooper?” J.B. surprised me by asking.
″I thought you didn’t want to know.” I half-turned around to look at him .
″No, I said I didn’t think it would work out. Hearing how you crash and burn is always worth a laugh,” he teased.
″Jerk. Why do you think something went wrong?”
J.B. shrugged. “I figure that’s what most of the headache is from. I think I know you well enough to tell when something is bothering you.” I turned back around, and J.B. resumed his massage, to my undying gratitude. “So what happened last night? On your date? With David?” he said with more than a little sarcasm in his voice.
″He didn’t kiss me back,” I told him reluctantly.
Ah.” His fingers tightened on my shoulders for a second. “You kissed him.”
″Just a little good-night kiss. But then he pulled away and said, ‘Ah,’ just like you just did. What’s that mean?”
″I have no idea.”
″Well, what did you mean when you said it?” I urged. At the moment I had the potential for insight into a man’s head, and there was no way I was stopping until I got some answers. “Ah.” But J.B. didn’t answer for a moment. “You still there? What did you mean?”
″Truth? I didn’t like hearing that you kissed him.”
I turned around again, my mouth open with surprise. “What?”
″Just being honest.”
″Yes, but why?”
″You don’t want me to be honest? You’d rather I lie and say I’m jumping for joy at the thought of you doing this? I don’t want to see you get hurt again, as much as I enjoy teasing you about it.”
″Oh.” I didn’t know if relief or regret was the stronger emotion running rampant through me right then. “So that’s all.”
″All what?” J.B. asked innocently.
″Nothing. Never mind.” I gave my head a shake. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to talk to you about this.”
″Suit yourself. I thought it might help the headache. Are you going out with him again?”
″Tomorrow night. We’re going to dinner.”
″Ah.”
″What’s that supposed to mean?” I cried with exasperation. “You don’t like the thought of what sharing a meal will do to me?”
″Okay, sorry. Ah-ha!” J.B. said in a falsetto voice, trying his best to sound jovial. It was pretty pathetic, and I had to laugh.
″Do you really think this is a bad idea?” I asked .
″I don’t think it matters what I think,” J.B. told me, leaning forward to grab his beer. His shoulder brushed against mine. “Sounds to me you’ve got your mind set on seeing how this plays out, and no one can change your mind. I just hope you’re happy with how it turns out.”
″You mean if David and I…”
″I got the impression that you’re playing for keeps in this one, Case.” J.B. turned the full weight of his beautiful blue eyes on me. “Is that really what you want?”
I couldn’t turn away. I couldn’t even blink. I felt like I was drowning in the blueness, and any moment J.B. would put his arms around me and drag me to shore.
″I don’t know,” I muttered, finally snapping out of it.
″I think you better figure out what you want.” He trailed a cool finger down my cheek. “I think you’re looking too hard.”
I had to turn away from him. I had to move away from him because right then there was a very insistent pulse beating somewhere it had no reason to be beating. I crawled into the corner of the couch and tucked up my legs so that they were between me and J.B.
″Do you need me to keep rubbing?” J.B. asked.
″No, I think I’m okay. But look, I have a favour to ask.” If I weren’t so desperate to change the subject, I would never have brought this up now, but it seemed cowardly to go running off to my room.
″Shoot.”
“It’s for Morgan. She’s got this wedding coming up and Anil will be there, and Brit suggested that she get a really hot guy to take her. And, well, the consensus is that you’re the hottest guy she knows.”
″She thinks I’m hot, does she?” he asked with a smug smile.
I ignored the smile and continued to plunge forward. “She does, and so does Anil. Brit thinks if Anil sees her with you, it will get him all hot and bothered and racing back to her. At least, that’s the plan.”
J.B. took another drink from his bottle. “You’re serious about this?”
″I didn’t come up with the idea; I’m just the messenger. You can say no if you want.” Even to my ears, the whole thing sounded absurd, and if I hadn’t promised Morgan to talk to him, I wouldn’t have said a word. What was I thinking—especially asking him now? Or even anytime. It was just a bad idea.
″When is this wedding?” he asked so casually that I couldn’t decide if he was for or against the idea. A big part of me hoped he was against it.
″Last weekend in July. It’s a Sunday. ”
″My day off. Who’s tying the knot?”
″Marie and Michael. I think you might have met them—Irish couple. Really nice.”
″Are you going?”
″No, they’re keeping it really small.”
″Hmm. What do you think?”
″About you taking her? I don’t know.” Like I’m about to tell him every inch of me is screaming Don’t take her! “She really wants someone to go with her and doesn’t want the hassle of meeting someone new just for this. I’m sure Brit has another option if you don’t want to go.”
″I don’t think I’ve got anything else on. Tell her I’ll think about it, check my schedule, and all that stuff. Don’t want her to think I’m too easy.”
″No. It’s just… it’s nice of you to do that for Morgan.”
″Morgan’s a cool chick. Brit, on the other hand…” I had to laugh at his tone. I was well aware of his feelings for Brit. Neither he nor Cooper have ever understood my friendship with Brit, and my explanations don’t do it justice because usually I don’t understand it myself. “Plus it might make things easier for you, so you don’t have to listen to her go on and on about it. Happy to help out,” he continued casually.
″Thanks.” I secured Morgan a date, but I was not ecstatic with the idea. But no one needed to know that. “But you, you won’t… you won’t, will you?” I stammered, trying not to say the words, but desperate to get my meaning across.
Luckily, J.B. isn’t a complete idiot. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t try to have sex with every woman I meet,” he told me rudely. Then he smiled, his wickedly white smile that makes me melt just a little when he uses it. “Just you.”