21. Dakota
Talking to Christopher was not on my agenda today, but if I didn’t answer the phone, I would have to tell my mother why I wasn’t answering it. So now I am here in my teenage bedroom on my bed, talking to the man I’ve been thinking about obsessively. “We’re gone.”
“Where are you?” he asks so quickly.
“The girls were off this week, so I decided to come up to my parents’ house for the week.” I close my eyes, hoping he doesn’t think I ran away from him, which I did, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh,” he says softly, and I close my eyes. “Okay, when are you going to be back?”
“Sunday night,” I tell him.
“Can you call me when you get back?” The question doesn’t surprise me. I knew we would have to talk, but I didn’t know when it would be. I also didn’t think it would have been this long before we talked. But I know he’s been on the road traveling because we’ve been watching his games with the girls.
“Yeah,” I give in.
“Give the girls a kiss for me,” he urges, sounding so defeated, and even though I hate it, it serves him right.
“I will,” I reply and then just hang up. I fall back on my bed and close my eyes, wishing I was home so we could have this talk and get it over with. I don’t know what the talk is going to do exactly, but I know I want it out of the way. For both our sakes.
The phone rings again on my chest, and I pick it up, seeing he’s calling me back. “Hello,” I answer right away.
“Hey.” He sounds nervous. “I was wondering if you would go on a date with me?”
I swallow the golf ball that was stuck in my throat before that now feels like a baseball. “No.” I close my eyes when I say the word. “I don’t have the time when I get back.” I give him some bullshit excuse. “I’ll be swamped with work emails since I’m not really working this week.”
“Okay,” he stumbles, “yeah, of course. Call me when you get back.” He disconnects first this time, not giving me a chance to say anything else.
“What the fuck was that all about?” I look at the phone that has the lock screen of me and the girls on their first day of school. “Why the hell did you say no? This is literally what you’ve wanted.”
I swipe up and go to my call list, seeing his name and calling him back. I sit up on my bed, waiting for him to answer. Even though he answers after one ring and a half, I have to think he didn’t want to answer. “Hey,” I say before he can even say hello, “I’m coming back this afternoon.” I shock myself at this decision because I was supposed to be here for the next four days. “So if you want to go out and get that talk out of the way tonight, we can do that.”
“Yeah,” he agrees right away. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll pick you up at seven. Is that good?”
“Works for me,” I confirm, looking at my watch. If I leave now, I’ll get home by four thirty, which would still give me enough time to get ready.
“I’ll see you then,” I say, hanging up the phone before either of us changes our minds. I run down the stairs toward the kitchen to find my mother, who is cleaning the lunch dishes. “Hey,” I start, walking in, “I’m going to head back home.”
I look around, wondering where the girls are. “What?” my mother asks, shocked. “Why?”
“I just—” I start to say and then stop. I haven’t really told anyone but Dr. Mendes about Christopher. “Thought I would get back home and?—”
“If you have to go home for work, then you should go,” she says, drying her hands. “Would it be okay if we kept the girls here?”
“I don’t want to do that to you.”
“Oh, please, it’s been so fun having them here.” She smiles at me. “Why don’t you go home and, I don’t know, go out.”
“Mom,” I gasp, avoiding looking at her.
“What?” Her voice goes high. “You are a young widow with two kids. There is nothing wrong with you going out and having fun. You aren’t the one who…” She doesn’t say the rest of the words. “Now, go pack your stuff and get on the road.” She smiles and blinks away tears. “We will bring the kids home on Sunday.”
“Okay,” I agree, hugging her. It takes me about five minutes to pack my stuff, and the girls aren’t even sad to see me go. They both hug me and wave at the window when I pull out. I make it home in less time than I thought it would take me. I walk in and go straight to my bedroom, emptying my bag in the closet before looking for what I should wear. I don’t even know where I’m going, but I figure I should dress nice.
I pull up Dr. Mendes’s contact and send her a quick text.
Me: What does one wear on a date with her dead husband’s best friend? Asking for a friend.
I move my hangers, checking my options when she answers me back.
Dr. Mendes: Three red bows, one on each of your nipples, the other one on your vagina. If that is not an option, go for red. It screams have sex with me.
Me: Forget I asked you.
I put my phone in my back pocket before I grab a red pantsuit I’ve never worn. Holding it up, I then walk over to my bodysuits, grabbing a lace one that dips very low in the front and lower in the back. I put the outfit on my bed before rushing to the bathroom to take a shower and do my hair. I straighten my hair and part it in the middle, tucking it behind my ears before putting on some smoky eye shadow and mascara. I go back to get dressed before applying the lip gloss. I slide on the bodysuit first before I grab the pants that fit me perfectly, tight all the way down to my ankles. The bodysuit is sexy and shows off my cleavage just enough to make him want it but not enough that I’m giving away the farm. I put the jacket on to finish the look, pushing the sleeves up a bit before stepping into my black sky-high shoes that are not made for walking. They are made to put on, walk to the car, and then to the table. I apply my lip gloss and then take a picture of myself to send to Dr. Mendes.
Me: Went with the red option.
Dr. Mendes: I see no bows.
I laugh and put the phone in my handheld purse, walking downstairs and already regretting the shoes decision. I don’t have a chance to second-guess anything because the doorbell rings. I ignore all the butterflies in my stomach and walk to the door, hoping I don’t vomit all over his shoes. I pull open the door and I can’t help but smile when I see him, even though I want to stab his toe with the heel of my shoe for being a dick the other night. “Hey,” I greet him, ignoring how satisfied I am when his mouth hangs open.
“Um,” he stammers, and I stand here as he holds out a huge bouquet of roses for me, wrapped in white paper. “I got you these,” he says of the flowers, “and I got these for the girls.” He holds up his other hand that holds two smaller bouquets. “They told me they like flowers in their room.”
Now it’s my turn to stare at him with my mouth open. “Um, thank you. The girls are staying at my parents’ place until Sunday.” I reach for them with both my hands. “I’ll get them in water, and then we can go.”
“They have the little water things at the bottom,” he mentions, “so they are good until tomorrow.”
“Great.” I walk away from him to the kitchen and place them on the counter. He doesn’t follow me in, and when I walk back, I see that he’s staring at me with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing dark navy-blue pants that I know have to be custom made because they fit him perfectly, showing off his huge thighs. A baby-blue button-down shirt that has three buttons at the top open, showing you his neck, and a navy cashmere coat.
“You look,” he says when I get close enough, “really fucking good.” I stand in front of him.
“Thank you.” I look down when he steps into my space.
He puts his hand around my waist, pulling me to him. “Thank you for giving me a chance,” he states softly, bending his head and kissing my cheek. He lets his hand fall from around my waist, opening the door for me to step out, and then closing it after him. He slides his hand in mine before walking down the steps toward his car. He opens the door for me, and I have to push down the disappointment that he didn’t try to kiss me. I watch him walk around to the driver’s side and get into the car. I look over at him, and I admit I’ve fallen for him. I just don’t know what to do about it.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he pulls out of the driveway.
“Just a little place I like. It’s good food and private enough that we won’t be bothered.”
I nod, looking out the window, trying not to look as nervous as I feel. We get to the restaurant, and he stops in front of the valet sign. The door is opened by a man as I step out and see Christopher walking around the back of the car. “The keys are in the car,” he tells the valet, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the guy who nods at him. “Asshole.”
“What?” I ask, laughing.
“He was literally drooling over you,” he snaps, pulling open the door for me to walk through it, the heat hitting me right away. “I wish I could have walked in front and behind you because I’m pretty sure he was checking out your ass.”
“Christopher,” I say his name, laughing, “he was not.”
“Yeah, right,” he counters, walking in, “you didn’t see his eyes go right down your shirt.”
I gasp, putting my hand on said shirt. “We have a reservation for two,” he says to the hostess, who is wearing a black dress. I look around the dimly lit restaurant that has maybe ten to fifteen tables. All tables are round with four chairs with hanging chandeliers over each one, which have three crystal vases with water and floating candles, making the mood even more romantic.
The hostess pauses at a table in the corner, and Christopher stops to pull out my chair for me. “Thank you,” I say, sitting in the chair and then watching him shrug off his jacket and put it in the chair beside me, before pulling the chair from my other side out.
“Don’t you dare take off that jacket,” he mumbles when I watch him sit down. I’ve never felt more confident or sexier than I do at this very minute.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing my chair away from the table, “I’m going to the restroom.” I turn, walking away from him, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I spot the bathroom in the corner of the room, and when I push the door open, I’m glad no one is in there. I exhale and then inhale. I use the back of my thumb to wipe away the tear. Dr. Mendes’s words play over in my head. “He’s not here anymore, so you aren’t doing anything to him.”
I look at myself in the mirror before walking back out, finding Christopher’s eyes on the bathroom door. I walk to him and pull out my chair. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s just I’ve not been on a date in a long, long time.” I pull my chair in.
“We can get out of here and go get pizza if you want.” He puts his hands down on the table, ready to get up and just walk out.
“Not a chance in hell.” I smile at him. “I’m here, and you’re here, and we are going to talk about a couple of things.”
“Okay, but if at any time you want to go, we can go.” He puts his hand on mine. “Even if we are mid meal.”
I laugh as the server comes over and asks us if we want still or sparkling water. I listen to the special but my head is more focused on the way his fingertips are playing with mine. “Are you going to drink wine?” Christopher asks while he picks up the menu.
“I can have a glass or two,” I reply, picking up my own menu. “Are you going to have one?”
“I would, but from the minute I got my driver’s license, my parents said if I had even one drop of alcohol, I wasn’t allowed to drive. It’s silly, I know, but”—he shrugs—“I won’t put you in danger. I won’t put myself in danger, and I won’t put anyone else in danger.”
“Have you always been this perfect?” I ask, shocked at his confession.
“I mean, you did tell me to fuck off last week, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say no.” He leans back, making his shirt go tight on his chest.
“I did.” I close the menu. “I think we should get that out of the way.”
“You mean you want to hear my excuses before we continue, in case you want to kick me in the balls?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Something like that.”
“Listen, I know I could have worded it differently, but the fact is still that no matter who lives in the house now, it was Benji’s.”
I swallow when I see the guilt all over his face. “Let me share a couple of things with you. Last October, Benji got home from out of town. I think you guys were in Vegas, maybe LA, not sure, but at least in one of those places, he had a threesome.” I watch his face to make sure he didn’t know about it and just didn’t tell me, but the way his eyes darken, I know he would never have been okay with Benji doing that to me. “The reason I know is that he butt dialed me.” I blink. “I heard the three of them. Not for long. I got the gist of it, so I hung up.”
“Dakota,” he says my name, and it feels like it’s being ripped from his chest.
I hold up my hand. “Then he got home, and I pretended nothing happened. I smiled at him and let him kiss my lips. Until the kids went to bed, and then I walked into our bedroom where he was lying on the bed, somehow thinking I would have sex with him, I’m not even sure. He looked up, and all I did was toss him my phone. He didn’t understand what I was saying, so I told him to check my call log. When he did, he knew. I also told him I would never forgive him for doing that to me. He then informed me that not only was it not his first time, he’d been doing it to me since we started dating.” Christopher hangs his head. “He pulled up his phone like it was a trophy and showed me every single girl he had stored in his phone by state. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he showed me pictures. Because what good is show-and-tell without the showing. It was then I knew my marriage was over, but then I knew something else was going on with him. So the cheating was the least of my worries.”
“Can you stop, please?” he says, his eyes filled with tears.
“That’s the man you are comparing yourself to.” I don’t stop. “I’ve known you as a friend for a long fucking time, Christopher. I don’t know you as well as I knew Benji, but I can bet on my life that you would never, ever do that to someone you say you love. So when you stood there and told me you couldn’t do that to him, it made me angry for two reasons. One, because it’s not his house. It hasn’t been his house for a while, and two, I was pissed he was taking something else from me.” I take a deep breath, and I’m proud I did all that without sobbing. “Now, that’s to say you aren’t the only one who is feeling guilty about this. So before this goes forward, you have to make a decision. Will you ever be okay knowing I was Benji’s once?” He opens his mouth. “You don’t have to decide now. For tonight, I want to sit down at a table with a hot man who thinks I’m just as hot as him. I want to drink wine and see if I can still flirt.” He smirks at me. “If you give me anything, at least give me tonight.”