Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
I walked straight to the back and pulled out my phone to call my friend Beth. She was the only one who knew me.
Beth answered after one ring. “Yo.”
“I'm freaking out.”
“Do tell.”
“We have a new houseguest who’s an old friend of Matt’s.”
“Matt has friends?”
There wasn’t a lot of love lost between Beth and Matt.
“Ha, funny, Beth. The new houseguest is staying with us for three months.”
“WTF! That’s such a dick move on Matt’s part. He doesn’t help you plan the wedding but decides to add a houseguest to the mix?”
“I was caught off guard.”
“So is this guy as douchy as the rest of Matt’s posse?”
A fair question, since most of Matt’s friends were complete nightmares at the best of times.
“Even worse. He’s…attractive.”
I could hear Beth thinking. “Like how attractive? ”
I winced. “Remember the crush I had on the hockey player in the second-year of university?”
“Now that guy was stupidly hot. No one could blame you for that. Even I drooled a bit when I saw him.”
“It's possible this guy is hotter than the hockey player.”
“Shut up. Impossible.”
I scrunched up my face. “You know my thing about big, athletic guys. I get all weird.”
“What kind of weird? Like the need to rip your clothes off kind of weird, because I'll stand behind you on that one.”
“Beth! Remember how bad my crushes were?”
“Mmmm…..I was there. If anything you were committed. No one could fault you on that.”
“I obsessed over the hockey player for almost a year before I had a conversation with him.”
“Oh my God, I forgot that you got up the balls to speak to him once.”
“Those crushes were endless fodder for my therapist. They were deemed unhealthy.”
“What did your therapist know? I'm pretty sure she wore orthotics.”
I laughed again. “I can feel it.”
“What?”
“These butterflies inside of me. The dry mouth. The pitching of my stomach. I can’t carry on a normal conversation.”
“Aw, are you developing a crush?”
“Beth. He’s my houseguest. He’s living with me. I can’t be crushing. I'm engaged.”
“Sweetie, I love my man, but if you knew the number of times I had fantasies about Kurt Browning, you would be stunned.”
Beth harbored her own little crush on a particular aging Canadian figure skater. “Isn’t Kurt getting a bit long in the tooth?”
“First of all, he’s perfect, and secondly, the heart wants what the heart wants. ”
“So talk to me when Kurt Browning moves into your guest bedroom.”
She started laughing. “I can’t argue that logic. I would be a mess. A complete wreck.”
“Look I'm not saying that I have full-blown, hockey player passion, but I can feel it starting, and I can’t go there. I love Matt.”
“Look, show me a cross-section of a hundred thousand women across America, and I would bet every single one of them has a little secret hanky spanky in her pocket for some guy, whether it is the mailman or the Chinese food delivery kid. It’s normal.”
“Really?”
“You gonna act on it?”
“No!”
“Well, then just accept that by getting married to Matt this is going to be one of the first of many happy fantasies for you in your marriage.”
“Beth,” I moaned, laughing.
“Besides hot guy would be lucky to get someone like you to crush on him from afar. You kind of missed your calling as a stalker.”
“Beth!”
We were both laughing when we hung up.
It alarmed me how many times Jackson popped into my head during the day. I talked to people, I helped set up an exhibition, and I stepped out for a sandwich with my co-worker, but intense flashbacks of Jackson’s warm hands on my hips kept coming back to me. I needed to gain a level of control over myself. I vowed to stop thinking about him.
This was just an old pattern of mine rearing its head. My therapist used to tell me that the only reason why I had these monster crushes versus actually having a real live relationship with a guy was that it was safe. I could live in a fantasy world about them where everything was perfect and I never actually had to deal with the realities of a relationship. It was all fantasy, and she had repeatedly challenged me on that fact. Didn’t I want truth more than fantasy? Fantasies were safe. And I had a lot of control in my head.
But who is to say that reality is better? I mean, Matt was real. He was real life. And that came along with a lot more issues than my fantasies. Like the hockey player had told me he was too busy working. Hockey player never forgot to call, and he never got too busy. He had been the perfect boyfriend in my mind while he lasted.
I took a deep breath. Matt may not be perfect, but he was my fiancé. This is where I should be putting my attention. Just because there were a few bumps along the way was no excuse to start daydreaming about someone else. Matt was everything I wanted in a husband. We were going to get married, and everything was going to be great. I would have my family. Besides there was nothing safe about Jackson and any extracurricular thoughts about him were wildly inappropriate.
Matt called an hour before my shift was over.
“Matt,” I said, stepping into an empty office.
“So you met the infamous Jackson.”
I pressed the phone to my ear, my voice low. “Why didn’t you tell me that you invited him to stay with us?”
“It slipped my mind,” his voice instantly traced with defensiveness.
“It’s fine,” I said hastily. Matt hated criticism. “I was just caught off guard.”
“He’s not going to be a bother.”
“I know,” I rushed. “I just…I mean, you never really mentioned him.”
Silence crackled between us. “Jackson grew up with me. ”
That confused me. “What do you mean? He’s a childhood friend, right?”
“No, I mean, he lived with my family.”
I blinked in shock. Matt had always maintained that he was an only child. He had regaled countless stories about his family life, but he had never mentioned Jackson before. “What? For how long?”
“For about 11 years. On and off.”
“What? You never told me this!”
“Just…” Matt paused. I could hear the strain in his voice. “Jackson is welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs to.”
“Of course. Can you tell me…”
Matt cut me off. “I don’t want to get into it right now, okay?”
“Okay.”
More silence between us.
“Will you be home for dinner?”
“Yes, Emily. I'll be home for dinner.” His tone sounded annoyed. Cutting.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. See you then.”
He disconnected the line.
I stood there for a long moment. Thinking. What exactly was going on here? Why was Matt so agitated? What did he mean that he and Jackson grew up together? None of this was making any sense. How could I date Matt an entire year and never know that someone else grew up with his family? In his home? Is that what he had told me? This whole thing was weird. I needed to know more.
At the end of my shift, when I walked out of the gallery, my heart hitched when I saw the big black truck. Jackson moved with grace. A baseball hat adorned his head, pulled low over his eyes. Without speaking, we walked to the passenger side. He opened the door for me. The man had the most incredible forearms .
“I can do it,” I lied, knowing full well that it would take a miracle to step up that far in this skirt.
He ignored me. His big hands wrapped around my hips. My body went completely still while my heart hammered. He easily lifted me up onto the seat.
I sounded breathless. “I'm never wearing this skirt again.”
“That would be a shame,” he teased, a smile on his lips.
I fumbled with my seatbelt. His flirtations meant nothing. He probably flirted as easy as he breathed. I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. I remember that fateful day in university. I had been late for class and racing around the corner. I had slammed into a warm wall. Huge hands had grabbed me by the shoulders, and I could still remember that slow-motion moment of looking up and seeing the hockey player. His name was Seth, and he had the most beautiful eyes. I had walked around in a daze for weeks after that. Replaying the feeling of his hands on my arms.
Yep. My therapist might have had a point on the unhealthy part of my crushes. She used to tell me that no good came from living in make-belief.
Jackson started the truck. And even though I had mentally prepared myself for his driving, I was breathless within seconds. I stole a glance at him. He had changed into a navy t-shirt and jeans. His longish hair stuck out in tuffs from beneath his baseball cap. The man was sexy. Crush or not, I would give him that. And he probably knew that about himself. He emanated his big manly pheromones. I bet women within miles of him were lifting up their heads and sniffing the air like wild animals catching the scent of their prey. But even if he was near me, it gave me no license to indulge in any of my little fantasies. I had paid good money for therapy, and we had all moved well past the crushing stage of my life when I started dating Matt.
“How was your shift?” Jackson’s question pulled me out of my thoughts.
Green eyes looked at me when I didn’t answer .
Think. Use your words.
“We’re showcasing some new artists this month. They’re so grateful and enthusiastic that it makes it a lot of fun.”
“Do you ever think you’d want to show off your paintings?”
A snort escaped out of my nose. The thought was absurd. “No. I mean, my art isn’t even real art.”
“Did some asshole tell you that?”
I startled and looked over at him. He was giving me an intense look. Like he was willing to have a word with someone if they did tell me that. “No. I mean, I’ve never tried.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know you're not good enough if you don’t try?”
“I just know.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me.”
My mouth dropped open. No one ever talked to me like that. How could I tell him that I feared rejection? I was happy with the dream of being an artist. What held me back was the fear of losing that dream when the art world rejected my work. It would take away one of my greatest joys. “I'm happy helping other artists.”
“I don’t buy it.”
My eyes widened. I had no response to that. “It’s complicated.”
“I can help you load up your paintings and carry them to your work.”
The thought of Jackson carrying my art into the gallery and demanding they hang them up almost made me laugh. “I can’t.”
He glanced over at me. “It’s up to you.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lied.
We pulled up to a stop in front of the loft. I yanked open the door and leaped out, not caring if I ripped the back seam out of my skirt. I had no intention of letting him touch me again. This guy, unlike all my other crushes, wasn’t even remotely safe.
I stopped short. “Where’s my car?”
“I pushed it into the garage.” He walked forward and pulled on the chain to open the door. I walked into the space that was Matt’s parking spot. The engine of my car lay in several pieces on the floor of the garage on a tarp.
My eyes widened.
“Sorry about this,” he said. “I got carried away.”
I stood there in shock. My car had undergone an automotive autopsy, and now all its important little pieces were lying on the floor. How had this happened? A car bomb was the only thing that would’ve taken this car apart more efficiently. I worked to find the words to make him feel better. “That’s okay. I'm pretty sure we can find someone to put it back together.”
Maybe. Maybe if I found a genius mechanic and paid him triple the rate he might be able to put it back together. But at this point it was doubtful.
He laughed. “I can put it back together. Your alternator failed. The part isn’t going to be in until next week.”
My heart tripped. Jackson had pulled my engine apart and had plans to fix it. “You can put my car back together?”
“Yes.”
I thought for a long moment. “You’re fixing my car?”
“Hope that’s okay. I was bored.”
I remained tongue-tied. No one had ever done something like this for me. “Thank-you.”
He crossed his arms. “Any reason why you don’t park in the garage?”
“Matt parks his car inside because his car is more valuable.”
“But you have an entire bay here. You could get at least two more cars in here.”
I pointed at the massive tractor tire that was lying in front of the other door. “That’s in the way. ”
“The tire?”
“Yeah.”
He tugged on his ear. “Why didn’t you just move it?”
“Well, Matt ordered it because he was going to use it as part of his work out regime, but after it got dropped off, it was too heavy to move. Matt tried.”
He frowned. “Matt tried to move it?”
“It’s the latest rage. I guess you're supposed to flip the tire as part of a workout. But that tire weighs over 600 pounds.” I informed him. “It’s way too heavy for one person.”
“Where do you want it?”
I cringed when I recalled Matt’s attempts to flip this tire. He had grunted and groaned and swore to no avail. I intended to call someone to take it away but had never gotten around to it. Jackson was a big man, one of the biggest men I had ever met in my life, but I was reasonably sure he wouldn’t be able to budge it.
“It’s no big deal to park outside.”
He walked over to the tire, crouched beside it and with seemingly minimal effort, flipped the tire. My mouth dropped open. He repeatedly flipped it further into the garage, before resting it up against the wall. He wasn’t even out of breath.
He walked back to where I stood. “Mind if I use that to work out?”
I envisioned him wearing only his runners and his shorts, flipping that tire. His muscular body would be covered in sweat. My mouth flooded with moisture. I swallowed hard. I opened my lips to speak. Our eyes met. He watched me with interest.
I snapped my mouth shut and nodded.
Fearing he could see my thoughts, without saying another word, I turned and headed for the stairs.