Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
ALEX
I n the break room, I sit on the couch and take out my phone. I’ve been waiting for a moment to see if Tori has texted me back all day. This morning, I shot off something simple.
Alex: Good morning, beautiful .
Things got heated last night. As we kissed, it was like I let out the beast inside me. I just couldn’t stop.
I might not have if she hadn’t looked so panicked. She stared at me as if she wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible. Suddenly, it was like she was terrified by what had happened between us.
Is it because she cares more than she wants to admit, more than she wants to, full stop?
She hasn’t texted back. Dammit.
I feel like a lovestruck teenager waiting for his crush to reply. I’m a grown man with a hospital to run. Angrily shoving my cell phone into my locker, I get back to work.
I work my body hard in the home gym after my long shift. Elliot was asleep when I got home, the nanny telling me he’d had a good day at school and had completed all his homework. To say that I sometimes feel like an absentee guardian would be an understatement.
I need to work on that, but my job is what keeps me sane. My job will make sure Elliot never has to want in life.
I’m not avoiding anything, anybody, because of the affair, dammit. Because of the betrayal.
When my cell rings, cutting through the metal music I use to block out my thoughts—or try to—I click the button on my headphones, which answers the call.
Julian sounds extremely pleased with himself. “Ask me how my night went.”
“Do I want to?” I say between heavy breaths.
“Whoa, you burying a body?”
The only thing I’m burying is any notion of a relationship with the only woman I’ve cared about since… no, there’s no fucking since . This is an ever kind of deal.
“On the assault bike,” I growl.
“You sound very happy about that.”
“Get to the point.”
“Jesus.” He chuckles. “You sure you’re interested?”
I settle myself down. “Sorry, Julian. I’m being rude.”
“No argument here.”
“So, what happened?”
“I met with my secret Valentine. We went back to her place—and get this—we’re going to have a second date.”
“That’s great,” I say, ignoring the petty voice whispering in my ear that I’m jealous. I refuse to let that brand of weakness twist me up. “What’s her name?”
“Cynthia. She’s a yoga instructor. We bonded over our shared love of the unusual shapes the body can make.”
“Ha ha.” The laughter is forced, but I’m not going to drag my buddy down with me.
“Your night didn’t go well?”
“I think I came on too strong. I hinted that she was the woman I’d been waiting for. We kissed, and she ran.”
“Ran?” he echos.
“She looked scared. At the time, I thought she was scared of her feelings. Like, hell, maybe she’d been waiting for me as much as I’d been waiting for her. Now, I wonder if I came across like an overbearing jerk.”
“Not everybody is looking for love,” Julian says. “Have you spoken since?”
“No,” I reply, not liking his answer at all.
If Tori isn’t looking for love, what does she want? Just mindless fun? If I can’t give her that, will she get it from somebody else? Wild, hot jealousy pumps through me.
“When you talk again, maybe tone it back a bit. If you like her, you don’t want to scare her off.”
“I don’t want to mess around, either.”
“Messing around is half the fun. She’s younger than you, too.”
As if I hadn’t noticed that. Her youth was apparent when she backed off from the kiss, her eyes wide, gorgeous, innocent. She was looking at me like she’d never even kissed anyone before. A fucked-up part of me liked that.
Nobody else gets to claim her—just me.
Claim her. What am I even thinking?
“You’re right,” I admit reluctantly, letting my pedaling come to a stop. “I need to chill. Going forward, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll be the most casual man you can imagine. Slippers, a Sunday paper, and a mug of milky weak coffee, that’s me. I’m the man who takes a woman on a date a week for three months only to let it fizzle out.”
“That’s more like it,” Julian says. “Welcome to the twenty-first century way of doing things.”
We chat some more, and then I shower and check on Elliot. He’s sleeping on his side, breathing softly. In the dark, he looks just like Robin did at the same age.
As I try to sleep, I think about what Julian said. Maybe I don’t want to be part of the twenty-first century. Tori called herself an old soul. We match.
I’m drifting off when my phone buzzes.
Tori: Hey, Alex. Sorry for the late reply. I’ve been at the bar all day. I had to double as a waitress because one of the other waitresses called in sick. Anyway, I don’t mean to bore you. How was your day? If you’re asleep, I’ll catch your reply tomorrow. Peace.
The message seems designed to be almost artfully casual. She wants to put the forwardness of last night behind us. I can’t blame her for that. Sharing everything about Robin, Lena, and Elliot came so naturally.
If I were being modern, I wouldn’t reply until the morning. I’d get involved in the texting games, not letting my eagerness show.
Fuck that.
Alex: Don’t try to pretend we can be casual, Tori. All I’ve been thinking about is that kiss and taking it further. The memory of your hips…
I delete the message before I can send it. Julian’s right—I need to chill out big time.
Alex: You don’t have to apologize. I’ve been working all day, too. How was work? Did that asshole show his face again?
Tori: Work was… work. LOL (that’s right, I’m still going to use this even if you insist on being a dork and typing it out). I had a side project to keep me busy. If you ask me nicely, I might even tell you what it was about.
I grin.
Alex: If I was there, I’m sure I could make you tell me.
Tori: Oh, really… How would you do that?
Alex: You got a small preview of it last night. I almost got carried away, remember?
Tori: How could I forget? I almost lost the ability to think, too. That’s why I had to run away so quickly.
Alex: I thought maybe the big bad surgeon had scared you. Maybe I’d turned into a horror movie villain in your eyes.
Tori: Hahahaha. What, like you were going to dissect me or something?
I chuckle, sitting up, wishing she was here… but also not. The simplicity of texting allows me to keep my hunger at bay. For now, at least.
Alex: Go on then, Tori. Tell me about your side project.
Tori: Nuh-uh. How is that asking nicely?
Alex: I apologize. Please, from the bottom of my heart, with all the sincerity in my soul, deign to inform me about the project which made your time at work tolerable.
Tori: LOL. That’s more like it.
Alex: LOL. See? For you, I’ll even use the acronym. That’s proof that I REALLY want to know.
Tori: There’s an open mic coming up. I was working on a poem. This is going to sound like a cliché but screw it. Sometimes, it’s like I’m not the one writing the poetry. Sometimes, it feels like it comes from somewhere inside me, and I have to be ready. That’s my very pretentious way of saying I’ve been taking every chance I can get to scrawl my notes between orders.
Alex: It’s not pretentious. It’s interesting.
My heart twitches as I think about her wild hair falling over her face, her teeth clasping her lower lip as the ideas spark through her excited mind.
Alex: What’s the poem about?
Tori: It’s depressing. I don’t want to ruin the mood.
I laugh at the callback.
Alex: I’ve seen more darkness today than you could fathom, Tori. Don’t hold back on my account.
Tori: If you want to know…
Alex: I do. I’m curious about everything about you.
I delete the last line, leaving just ‘I do’. After I click send, I wonder if we’ll ever say those two magical words. Then, I relegate the crazy thought to the back of my mind.
Tori: The performance is from the point of view of a girl after her mom’s latest boyfriend walks out. She’s watched these men lie to her mother over and over, and so she’s venting her frustration while she wrestles with the core concept of whether or not love is real.
I swallow. She’s wondering if love is real ?
Making her mine is going to be an uphill battle.
Again, I warn myself to calm down.
Alex: So this is from the point of view of a character?
Tori: Sure, you could call her that. Obviously, I’ll be the one up there performing, but sometimes, I like to use a framing device: a way to distance myself. Or just create a new perspective.
She added the ‘or,’ but it’s the first one. She wants to distance herself and pretend this isn’t about her. But it is.
Alex: This character doesn’t believe that love is real .
My hands are trembling as I type, the idea making me sick on a level I never had access to before I met Tori.
Tori: She’s wrestling with the idea. She’s not sure if it exists.
Alex: Which way is she leaning?
Tori: She’s leaning toward the ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ mentality.
Alex: In what way?
I’m sending my replies fast, with no thought of seeming too eager holding me back. Once, Julian counted out the words in texts he was sending a woman. He refused to let his word count exceed hers. I can’t play those games.
Tori: If she has functioned this long without love, relationships, or even having crushes, then why should she start now? Plenty of people are able to live productive lives alone. Surely, you can understand that.
She’s got me there, but I don’t want to admit it, not to her, not to the woman I’m starting to care about.
Alex: People can be productive. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re living their best lives or that they couldn’t be happier.
Tori: You’re really gung ho about this ‘love’ thing, aren’t you?
Alex: No.
I lie. I can’t let her know I’ve been secretly wanting and searching, convinced it would never work out until we began texting.
One walk on the beach with her means more than a full-fledged date with any other woman ever could.
Alex: You’re too young to think there’s no such thing as love, Tori.
Tori: We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about the character.
Alex: If I were there, I’d make you admit the truth: this is about you. You’re the only one who thinks love is a lie.
Tori: You’d make me, huh? How would you persuade me?
My body stirs. My steel aches and grows hot. Is she trying to take this where I think she is?
I close my eyes and imagine her in bed. No, sitting on the bed so I can get a greedy look at her thick thighs in some PJ shorts. In the fantasy, she’s wearing a tank top, no bra, her nipples poking through the material, tempting me to suck them, first through the fabric until she’s wriggling and begging, then I’ll tear down her shirt, reveal her nakedness, suck until her toes are curling with a soul-searing orgasm.
Only then will I move on to the rest of her delectable body.
Alex: I’d bring you to the edge, Tori, and make you tell me before I let you topple over.
Tori: Hmm… What kind of edge are we talking about?
Alex: The edge you bring me to any time I think about your voluptuous, tempting legs. The edge you’ve brought me to right now as I imagine gliding my hands over your body.
Tori: Where on my body?
My balls throb, lust flooding into me, surging up my stiff pole.
Alex: Anywhere I damn well…
I stop typing when Elliot screams.
Leaping to my feet, I run through the house and burst into his bedroom. He’s sitting upright, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead and cheeks.
“Daddy?” he says, staring at me. He shudders as he takes me in and realizes I’m not his father. “Uncle Alex. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” I tell him, approaching the bed. “Bad dream?”
He nods, wiping his eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll go back to sleep.”
I kneel next to the bed. It’s been two years since the crash and far longer since the betrayal, and I’m nowhere near as close to my nephew as I should be. I realize that sometimes, and it hurts. I can blame work all I want, but I know other forces are at play, too.
“What do you want to do, Elliot? I can tell you don’t want to go back to sleep.”
“Can we maybe build a little of the Death Star?” he murmurs. “Just until I forget my dream?”
“Sure we can, buddy.”
I stay with Elliot for the next hour, then return to the bedroom.
Alex: Sorry, Tori. Elliot had a nightmare.
Predictably, she doesn’t reply.