7. Daphne
Istand in the lobby, my head completely spinning by the highs and lows this man has put me through tonight.
How does he go from being so dismissive toward me like I’m merely an inconvenience in his life to looking at me the way he did when I was on his lap? I giggle to myself remembering his “issue” when I was trying to put my shoe back on. As embarrassed as I was in the moment, it’s nothing compared to standing there with a raging hard-on in public.
“Good, he deserves it,” I decide, spinning on my heel to head back into the auction and start cleaning up for the night.
By the time I make it back home, I’m exhausted. I’ve been going nonstop since six a.m. today and my body is feeling it. I trudge to my bathroom, dropping my bag on my couch. Several months back, Xana bought me some lavender aromatherapy bath stuff. I root through my cabinets, finding it and pouring a generous amount into the tub after turning on the water.
Rosé in hand, I dip my toes into the water to test out the temperature before slowly sliding all the way beneath the bubbles. The lavender actually starts doing its job of instantly putting me at ease. I try to take in some deep breaths, allowing the tension from the day to leave my body, but the second I close my eyes, my mind keeps drifting back to him.
I recall the way he demanded I was going on his family vacation after placing a bid in my name. The rude and arrogant way he looked me up and down at the airport before pretending he’d never seen me before. The way he acted when he was two hours late to our first meeting. But then, I think about the way he looked at me that night at my apartment, the way his eyes undressed me when he thought I wasn’t looking earlier tonight… and the way he held me.
A shiver runs through my body remembering the way his fingertips lightly trailed against my skin. The way his lips were so close to me that I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. My hand slips beneath the water, sliding down my body until I reach my inner thigh. I trail my own fingertips over my skin, imagining it’s Weston. Wondering what could have happened if we had been some place more private. Would he have leaned in and kissed me? Or what would he have done if I leaned in to kiss him?
I bring my fingers to my clit, slowly circling them around, teasing myself. Tension builds as I apply pressure, my back arching against the porcelain tub, my breath growing audible. I’m so close, my lips part as a small moan slips past them when I find my release.
But the second it’s over, instead of feeling satisfied, I feel guilty. An image of Carson’s sweet smile when he proposed to me sweeps across my mind. I feel a physical pain in my chest, like I’m betraying what we had by wanting someone else. Then it hits me. This is the first time that I have wanted someone else since his death. This is the first time a man has not only garnered my attention but left me wanting more. But this isn’t real; it’s a fantasy. It’s not a happily ever after with a white picket fence and the matching Disney outfits. It’s a secret fling that ends in heartbreak.
* * *
“Now you’re goingto the Bahamas? Damn, I need a vacation or maybe a different job,” Xana says after taking a sip of wine.
“No, the point is I’m not going. Can you believe he thought he could force me into going?” I say, shaking my head. “The audacity.”
“Yeaaaaah, how rude of him to demand you go on a luxury, tropical vacation. Asshole!” Xana says sarcastically.
“What? You think I should go?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I just don’t think he’s being rude,” she says, using quotation marks. I give her an I don’t understand expression. “He’s thinking with his dick, Daph, come on.”
“Oh please, that man probably gets more women in a week than most men do in a decade. If he wanted to sleep with me, he wouldn’t go to those lengths. He’s just doing it as some sort of power move to get back at me for demanding he participate in the bake sale and silent auction, which was a huge success by the way.”
“Oh good! It looked amazing. You did such a fantastic job helping organize that entire thing. Did you say his nanny quit? Maybe I should apply.” She laughs.
“Right? What a job.”
“Aren’t you even a little bit curious?” She bounces her eyebrows up and down at me like a cartoon character.
“About?”
“The trip, if you went to the Bahamas with him.”
“No. First of all, I wouldn’t be going with him; I’d be the hired help. Second, how weird would it be to vacation with people you barely know?”
“Hmm, is that why you’re so offended by his offer?” She eyes me. “Because you want to be more than the hired help?”
“No, get outta here,” I deflect, smacking her with one of my throw pillows.
“I’m just saying”—she laughs, holding up her hand to dodge the pillow—“if I liked a guy and he only wanted me around to do a favor for him, I’d be butthurt too.”
“I’m not butthurt. And trust me, that’s not why I’m frustrated by it, not in the slightest,” I lie, knowing full well that’s exactly why I’m frustrated by it. “It’s just the fact that he has this arrogant attitude like whatever I say goes because I’m rich and powerful. I’m already a full-time teacher. Why can’t he find some other low-level peasant to pick on.” There is a lot of truth in that statement though. “And for as much as I love Daisy and I had a blast with her at my apartment, babysitting my students and going on vacation with their family is not part of my job description.”
“Speaking of, how’s the new job at Crestwood going? You seem like a completely different person than you were a few months back, packing up your life to run away to Paris.”
“I love it. Seriously, it’s great.”
“Good and for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided not to uproot and move.” Xana knows me well enough that she knows she can either talk me down from the ledge or she knows she can wait it out and I’ll eventually find my way back.
“What are you and Ryan doing for Labor Day?”
“Probably the same thing we always do, spend the day on Lake Michigan with his family. You’re welcome to join us again. Unless, you know, you’re sailing the high seas.” She gives me a salute and it makes me laugh.
“How are things going with you and Ryan? Crazy to believe you guys have already been together over two years.”
Xana was put through the wringer for years before she met Ryan. She’d had her heart broken; she’d been cheated on, lied to, robbed by one guy and stalked by another. To see her smiling and happy with him brings me so much joy. She has the same kind of glow and giddiness talking about him that I did with Carson.
Carson wasn’t like any other man I’ve ever met. He was truly one of a kind with a heart of gold. He was empathetic and always anticipated my needs long before I even said anything. He was what the girls call a “golden retriever” man. He was innocent and loving and loyal in the most genuine way. I know that if life hadn’t ripped him from this world, we would have been that couple—the one who wears matching outfits with our kids at Disney and sends out our holiday cards with silly Santa sweaters and reindeer noses.
“Oh, Ryan.” She sighs, sitting back on my couch. “He’s wonderful. Things are going so well it almost scares me actually.”
“Like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
I reach over and place my hand on her knee. “Don’t think like that. I know you’ve been put through so much by your partners in the past, but Ryan’s different. He’s one of the good ones, so don’t rob yourself of that joy and happiness.”
She puts her hand over mine, smiling at me. “You know, I think you were my first ever soulmate.”
“I feel the same way. Sometimes I feel bad for the men in our lives.” We both laugh. “They know that if they mess up, it’s not just one of us they have to deal with.”
“You know when Ryan and I get married, you’re my maid of honor, right?”
“Duh.”
“Hey,” her tone gets serious, “will you be okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Helping me plan my wedding someday.”
“Of course.” I hate that she’s always so worried about me when she should be excited for her own future. I know watching your best friend lose their mother and the love of their life in the same year and go down a long path of grief that almost consumes them has to be traumatic. “I promise. I can’t wait to help you. I can’t wait to sit with your mom when you come out of the dressing room at the bridal shop when you’re trying on dresses. Mostly, I can’t wait to give Ryan my very threatening if you so much as cause her a single tear, I will hunt you down and kill you with my very specific set of skills speech.” I do my best Liam Neeson impression and it has her in a fit of giggles.
* * *
“Okay,class, and what do we say at the end of the day?” I ask as a sea of smiling children raise their hands and say with me, “We are grateful for the day!”
“And for you!” Daisy adds on with a big smile, several other students joining her.
“Thank you all so much. I am so grateful for each of you and I love being your teacher. Are you all going to have a great weekend?”
“Yes!” they cheer.
“Does anyone want to share their weekend plans?” Several hands shoot sky-high.
“Bryson.”
“Me and my dad and, and, and my brother are going to a, to a Cubs game.”
“That sounds amazing! Danielle.”
“My sissy has a softball game.”
“Well, I hope she wins.”
A soft charm sounds that signals the end of the day and the students head to their cubbies to retrieve their bags and sit back down at their desks. This school does things a little differently for the younger kids, allowing the parents to come directly to their classroom to pick them up.
One by one the mothers or nannies come in to pick up the children. I chat with a few of them, exchanging pleasantries and discussing how their child is doing.
“Knock, knock.” I turn to my right to see Preston, my fellow teacher, smiling and waving at me from the doorway.
“Hey, Pres, all your kids gone already?”
“Yeah, the fifth graders don’t waste any time hauling out of here, especially on a Friday.” He laughs.
“I bet. I remember those days.” I smile and wave at one of the mothers when a tall figure catches my eye. It’s Mr. Vaughn, walking into the classroom casually in his navy suit. His white Oxford is unbuttoned a little, no tie. He catches me looking at him and I quickly look back at Preston. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” I ask.
“I was just saying that it was fun chatting with you at the bake sale the other night. You were amazing, running around getting everything done.”
“Thanks, it was great talking with you too.” I try to keep my eyes on Preston but I can feel Weston staring at me. He’s saying something to Daisy as she riffles through her backpack.
“So do you have any weekend plans?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, his hands in his pockets.
“Not really, no. Oh, well, that’s not totally true.” I laugh. “I actually have this picture I’ve been meaning to hang in my bedroom. I keep putting it off because if it can’t be done with Command Strips, I don’t like messing with it. I even bought the tools and it’s still just sitting there.”
“Totally relate but actually, I helped my mom hang like five huge family portraits not that long ago so I’m kind of a pro.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, so ya know, give me a call if you want help. Seriously. I’ll just be in the park playing sand volleyball with the guys or maybe down at North Ave Beach trying to soak up the last few warm days of summer. Speaking of which, you’re more than welcome to come if you want.”
“That’s super nice. Thanks so much for the invite.” I try to give as noncommittal of an answer as possible. Not because I don’t want to go, but I don’t want to give Preston the wrong idea. He’s sweet and definitely attractive, but I’m just not interested in him like that.
“So, I should probably get your number in case you want help with that picture?” He gives me a coy grin.
“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Shit, now I’m really giving him the wrong idea.
“Great, here’s my phone; you can just type it in.”
I type my name and number, hit save, and hand it back to him.
“Cool, see you this weekend maybe.” He waves and backs out of the room.
When I turn my attention back to the classroom, Daisy and her father are nowhere to be seen.
I spend my Friday night on the couch… like every other weekend. I’m usually too exhausted by the end of the week to go out anyway and being that Xana and Ryan are homebodies, I don’t really have anyone to go out with.
Partying was never my scene for very long. I went to my fair share of frat and house parties in college but after, I was happier staying home with Carson or hosting game nights with our friends.
I roll from my side to my back, staring up at the ceiling as another episode of Law and Order: SVU starts up, the theme music a permanent fixture in my brain as I think it is in probably most of us.
I lift my foot to stare at my socks. “What’s wrong with my fuzzy socks?” I mutter, thinking about Weston’s comment. These ones are pale pink with little bunches of kale on them and the phrase I don’t kale at all written in yellow across the top. “I happen to think they’re cu—” A knock on my door startles me and I turn to look at it as if that will explain who it is. I drop my leg, sitting up as the person knocks again.
“Who is it?” I say timidly as I tiptoe toward the door, worried it’s my odd neighbor, Steve. There’s no answer. I stand on my tiptoes, peering through the peephole but the person is blocking it with their thumb. I hesitate for a moment, one hand on the handle, the other on the deadbolt. I unlock it, slowly turning the handle and opening the door a few inches to see Weston Vaughn with a scowl on his face.
“Why the fuck are you opening the door when you can’t see who it is?”