36. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
“Is David still annoyed with me?” Jules asked.
Paige took a bite of her Samurai sushi roll before shaking her head. The two of them were having dinner in a trendy little Japanese place, since Paige wanted to steer clear of Macaroni’s for a while, in order to give Anthony the waiter some time to forget about them. “Actually, I’m the one who’s still annoyed with you. He’s pissed. And probably not going to get over it anytime soon.”
“I did apologize. What more does he want?”
“I think he wants a real apology. You know, because saying you’re sorry when you don’t sound sorry isn’t a real apology.” Paige gave her a hard look. “We both thought we were having a private conversation, you know? There were so many things you heard that you didn’t need to hear.”
Jules took a sip of her Sapporo. “I know. You’re right.”
Pretending to be shocked, Paige cupped her ear. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
Jules ignored the dig. “I mean, I really didn’t need to hear all about seeds and fertilizer—”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Paige exhaled heavily. “Damn it, Jules, now I’m not even sure if you’re sorry or not.”
“I’m not. Not really. I needed to hear what he had to say, so I stayed and listened.”
“I would’ve told you later. Well, the important parts, anyway.”
Jules shook her head. “I know, but you telling me what he said isn’t the same as me hearing what he said. And I needed to hear the sincerity—or lack thereof—in his voice when he explained his reasons for not wanting your arrangement to end.”
“I can appreciate that, but you still shouldn’t have done it.”
Jules looked down at the table for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. “The night of your birthday, I told that hot bartender I would go to the mattresses for you, and I meant it.”
“The mattresses?” Paige frowned for a moment. “Oh, I get it. The Godfather.”
Jules nodded. “I was there when you had to get over David the first time and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t fucking around with you, now,” she said, and picked up a piece of her shrimp tempura, pointing it at Paige before taking a bite. “So you can stay annoyed with me and David can stay pissed at me, but I don’t regret what I did.” She chewed for a moment. “I do regret getting caught, though.”
Paige’s annoyance softened a little. It was always hard to stay mad at Jules when her motivation was Paige’s welfare. “Did you actually think you wouldn’t?”
“I didn’t know, to be honest. But when the two of you were going back to bed, I thought I was home free. I was going to just slip out the door and be gone, with no one the wiser. But, unfortunately, I was caught off guard at the end there, and blew a clean getaway.”
“Not sure how clean it could’ve been, since my door sounds like a bank vault when it closes.”
“I know, but I was assuming the two of you would be focused on pink fluff sex. Speaking of which, how was that? Sticky?”
“It was …” Paige adopted an exaggerated, dreamy expression, then abruptly shut it down. “None of your business. That’s how it was.”
“Jeez.”
“So?” Paige picked up another bite of sushi with her fork, not being one of those people with enough coordination to use chopsticks properly. “I’m assuming you didn’t think he was fucking around with me?”
“No, I didn’t. The exact opposite, actually.”
While Paige hadn’t thought he’d been fucking around, either, having Jules voice the same opinion was nice. “What if you’d thought he had been?”
“I’m not sure. It would’ve been painful, though. And … likely made him sterile.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Paige saw a man at a nearby table with a book in his hands, watching Jules. He was clean-shaven, with dark hair and blue eyes that were somehow enhanced by the dark-rimmed glasses he wore, giving him a Clark Kent vibe. His head was tilted, eyebrows raised, making it obvious he’d overheard her last comment and found it amusing, rather than alarming, and instead of looking at her like he thought she was in need of meds, the man was looking at her like he wanted to introduce himself. Paige could only shake her head at that, knowing Jules was able to get away with saying she’d do something to make a man sterile because she was a total smoke show.
Paige leaned forward and said, out of the corner of her mouth, “There’s a guy off to your left checking you out.”
“I know.” Jules made a face like she’d taken a bite out of a sour pickle. “And he’s totally on the douchebag spectrum. The way, far end, to be exact.”
Paige blinked at that assessment, which seemed really inaccurate. “You think so?”
“Yes,” Jules insisted in a low voice, only to add a second later, “Oh, Jesus, here he comes.”
Paige cut her eyes to Clark Kent, frowning for a moment when she found him still seated and now seemingly engrossed in his book. Her confusion was short-lived, though, when she saw another man coming around Clark’s table, heading directly toward Jules.
He was blonde, his hair spiked in the front, and did, indeed, look like he was on the spectrum. His green button-down shirt was a little too tight and his navy pants were slim-fitting and hemmed to just above his ankles, showing off flashy, green-patterned dress socks. Paige knew it was one of the latest fashion trends for men, but she thought it looked stupid.
“Hi, I’m Brent,” the man said, coming to a stop next to Jules and gazing down at her with a wide, almost leering smile.
She gave him a blinding smile in return. “Hi.”
“I normally don’t approach women in restaurants, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you, so I was compelled to take a chance.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and laid it on the table. “I’d really like to have a drink with you sometime, and if you’d like to have a drink with me, then please text me. But if you don’t, and I never hear from you, I’ll understand.” He put a hand over his heart. “I’ll be devastated, but I’ll understand. So, no pressure.”
With one last smoldering look at Jules, Brent left.
“Did you see his attempt at smolder?” Jules asked, her smile turning into a grimace. “Ridiculous.”
“I saw.”
“And he treated you like you were invisible.”
“I know. But believe me, I’m in no way disappointed by that.”
Jules took Brent’s business card and ripped it into several pieces, before picking up her chopsticks again. “Now I can get back to enjoying my dinner.”
Paige saw Clark Kent chuckling to himself, and assumed it was because he’d seen Jules destroy Brent’s business card, and not because the book he was reading was funny. “So, um, Brent wasn’t the guy I said was checking you out,” she told Jules.
“He wasn’t? You mean there’s another one?”
“Yes. This guy’s wearing a navy suit and has dark-rimmed glasses. And he’s reading a book.”
“Sounds like a real catch. Do you mind if I run right over to him?”
“Be nice.”
“I am being nice. And anyway, who reads a book in a restaurant?”
“A lot of people do that, actually.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, a lot of people that aren’t you, read books in restaurants.”
“What book is he reading?”
“Killing Kennedy.”
Jules considered that for a moment before asking, “How hard is he checking me out? A flattering amount, or douchebag amount?”
Paige dipped a bite of sushi in her soy sauce. “I’d say a flattering amount.”
“Is he attractive?”
“Uh, very attractive. You two would make beautiful babies.”
Jules ignored the baby reference. “Is he wearing normal socks?”
Paige raised the fork to her mouth. “Yes,” she answered, taking the bite. Then, her mouth partially full, added, “And a tie.”
“A tie?”
“A blue one that matches his eyes. Which means your babies would have beautiful blue eyes—”
“That would probably need corrective eyewear,” Jules pointed out.
Paige gave her a reproachful look. “His glasses look like basic readers. I doubt he wears them all the time.”
“But what if he does?”
“I don’t know.” Paige shrugged, soaking another bite of sushi in soy sauce before eating it. “What if he does?”
“I’ve never dated anyone who wore glasses all the time. I think it would be weird. You know, during sex and … whatnot.”
“I’m pretty sure people who wear glasses all the time take them off during sex and … whatnot.”
Jules grabbed another piece of shrimp tempura. “Does he have spiked hair with gel in it? Because I really hate that. It’s like trying to run your fingers through a cactus plant.”
“No spiked hair, or hair gel.”
“Manicure?”
“I can’t tell. He has nice hands, though,” Paige said, then jabbed her fork at Jules, who looked like she wasn’t done asking questions. “Anything else you need to know about the guy checking you out, you can find out for yourself by doing your own recon. I need to give my Samurai roll some attention.”
Discreetly, Jules glanced over for several moments to do a fairly thorough inventory, then turned back. “He’s not bad. He has that distinguished, Clark Kent thing going for him. But he’s probably married, with a couple of kids playing in a soccer league.”
Paige started to point out she didn’t think the man would’ve been checking Jules out with such interest if he was married and had kids (hopefully), but before that thought could be voiced out loud, the waitress stopped at his table with his check. He took the leather folder with his left hand, which put his bare ring finger on display, and chuckled at something she said as he glanced at his bill. Then, while she waited, he took some cash out of his wallet, put it in the folder, and handed it back with a smile.
Jules pursed her lips for a moment. “So, he appears to be single. And has a nice voice. But it doesn’t matter,” she said. “He looks like a lawyer. And I don’t do lawyers. Not even extremely hot ones.”
Despite Jules’s objections, it was obvious to Paige that Jules was covertly keeping tabs on the man as he stood and put on his suit jacket, then picked up his book. As he started to make his way to their table, her expression turned to one of guarded anticipation.
Up close, he appeared to be in his late thirties, slightly older than Paige had thought. He had fine lines around his eyes and mouth, and strands of silver in his dark, wavy hair, but as was the case with most men, it only added to his attractiveness, rather than detracting from it. He also seemed to be a tad uncertain, clearing his throat before speaking.
“Hello,” he said, looking from one woman to the other. “I’m Malcom Hodge.”
Paige knew that even though he was addressing them both, he was really here for Jules. Deciding to introduce herself first, she extended a hand. “Paige Clemons.”
“Nice to meet you, Paige,” Malcom said politely, shaking her hand with a nice, firm handshake she approved of, before pivoting toward Jules.
With a quick, irritated glare at Paige for literally forcing her hand, Jules exchanged handshakes with Malcom. “Jules Shaw.”
“Nice to meet you, Jules.”
Malcom looked down at her for a long moment, then seemed to realize he’d come over to their table for a reason. Clearing his throat again, he said, “First, let me start off by saying that I normally don’t approach women in restaurants—”
“You don't?” Jules asked, her expression clearly saying, And yet, here you are, approaching a woman in a restaurant.
“No. And especially not after she’s already been approached by another man.”
Jules gave him a long, assessing look, quickly coming to the conclusion he must have seen the previous encounter with Brent. “Then why are you, now?”
He inclined his head a little to the left. “Because I figure I stand a better chance at being taken more seriously than … Brent.”
“And how do you figure that?” Jules asked, realizing he must have also heard the encounter, if he knew Brent's name.
He cleared his throat for a third time. “Well, unlike Brent, I’m not on the douchebag spectrum.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly at hearing that, but before she could respond, he continued.
“I always wear normal socks, except when taking a shower, which I do every day. Or, you know, when I’m swimming, which I hardly ever do. Or, when I sleep. Anyway …” Malcom trailed off for a moment. “I’ve never attempted to, uh, smolder, nor have I ever gotten a manicure and the last time I used hair gel was in high school, when I was guilty of making a few regrettable choices.”
Jules leaned forward as if getting ready to share a secret. “It’s impolite to eavesdrop, Malcom.”
Paige, having just taken a drink of her water, started coughing at hearing that audacious nugget of hypocrisy.
Malcom looked over, ostensibly to see if Paige was okay, and she waved him off. “Sorry. I just swallowed wrong.”
After a brief pause, Malcom turned back to Jules. “I agree it’s impolite. But I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
“You weren’t?”
“No. If I’d been eavesdropping, I would’ve been secretly listening to your private conversation, but I wasn’t—” Malcom broke off as Paige started coughing again.
She quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry. Swallowed wrong again.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Malcom asked.
“She’s fine.” Jules didn’t even look in Paige’s direction. “So, you were saying?”
“I was saying I wasn’t listening to a private conversation,” Malcom said. “Your conversation was taking place in a public, crowded restaurant, so the expectation of privacy doesn’t apply, since anyone around you can overhear what you’re saying. Including me. I was simply overhearing things I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“And how much did you overhear?”
He paused. “Everything from The Godfather reference on … for the most part. I couldn’t help it. Honestly. The Godfather is one of my favorite movies, so that caught my attention. And I’m not saying that to pander—”
“Name all the Corleone children.”
Malcom’s eyes widened, the only indication the question had caught him off guard. “In alphabetical order, or chronological?”
“Chronological is fine.”
“All right. The oldest is Santino, aka Sonny, followed by Frederico, aka Fredo, then Michael, who occasionally gets called ‘Mikey’. Last but not least, is Constanzia, aka Connie.”
“You forgot Tom.”
“You mean Tom Hagen?” Malcom shook his head. “Technically, he’s not a Corleone. He may have been raised by the Corleones and is often referred to as a ‘brother’, but he was never legally adopted by Vito and Carmela, so I didn’t include him as one of their children.” Then, tilting his head, he asked, “So, did I pass?”
Jules gave him a conceding nod, that also managed to convey she wasn’t completely impressed.
Taking that to mean he could continue, Malcom said, “I was briefly married several years ago—but am now divorced—and to my knowledge don’t have any children playing in a soccer league anywhere.” He reached up to touch his glasses. “I do wear glasses a lot, partly because contacts make me feel like I have sand in my eyes, but mostly because I’m afraid to have surgery. There’s just something really unappealing about having lasers anywhere near my eyes. Anyway, I don’t wear them during sex and … whatnot. I do take them off for that.”
He actually seemed a little uncomfortable mentioning sex which made Paige like him even more. The man was adorable.
“So …” Malcom hesitated before carefully putting a business card down on the table and sliding it toward Jules, almost exactly like Brent had. “Speaking of work …”
Jules glanced down at the card and read the front before giving him a less than thrilled look. “You’re a lawyer.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “And I know you don’t do lawyers, even if they’re extremely hot—thank you for that, by the way—but I’m hoping you’ll overlook it, though, because I would love to take you to dinner sometime.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes. I don’t want to have a drink with you. I want to have dinner with you. Preferably at a restaurant that requires a reservation, with cloth napkins and outrageous prices and really good desserts. A place where we can enjoy an amazing bottle of wine, while we sit and talk for a couple of hours. About anything. Movies, books, the douchebag spectrum … whatever you want.”
“And if I don’t want to do that?”
“Then I’ll be disappointed. Truly. So I’m hoping like hell that instead of ripping up my card, you’ll give me a call. Not a text … because if you’re going to accept my invitation for dinner, I want to hear your voice when you do.”
Jules leaned back in her chair and gazed at him for several moments. “All right. I'll think about it.”
“Thank you. Now then, I’m going to leave and let you two finish enjoying your meals,” he said, shifting gears. Angling his head toward Paige, he said, “It was nice to meet you, Paige. And, uh, good luck with David.”
Paige blinked at him. He really had overheard a lot. “Nice to meet you, too, Malcom,” she returned. “And … thanks, I guess.”
He turned his attention back to Jules. “It was nice to meet you, Jules,” he told her, before adding quietly, “And I really do hope to hear from you soon.”
After he walked away, Jules picked up his card to give it a closer look and as she did, Paige saw some writing on the back, along with a phone number. “There’s something written on the back.”
Jules quickly flipped it over and read it, smiling when she was done.
“What does it say?” Paige asked.
“‘For a character reference, feel free to call my mom. Her name is Beverly’.”
Paige chuckled; the man really was adorable. “Are you going to call her? Because I vote yes.”
Jules shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe later,” she answered, her tone noncommittal as she slipped the card in her purse. “In the meantime, let’s get back to you, and what you’re going to do with David.”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Because it’s a big decision?”
“Is it really, though?”
“Have you had too much Sapporo? Yes, it’s a big decision, one I never thought I’d ever be making, so I’m taking a little time to—”
“Never? You’re telling me the possibility that you and David might really get together again never crossed your mind in the past two months?”
“No. Why would it?”
“Because you’ve never stopped loving him, that’s why.”
“So?”
“And he’s never stopped loving you, either—and before you start arguing with me about that, let me just remind you of everything he’s been doing for you.” Jules held up a hand. “I understand your heartburn with his subterfuge. I felt it at first, too, but then I decided it was clever because he put the risk all on himself, and if I hadn’t blown up his plan, I’m sure it would’ve played out much smoother in the coming weeks. You’ve clearly already taken the bait and are definitely hooked—and before you start arguing with me about that, let me just ask if you’ve ever been happier in your entire life?”
Paige was slow to answer, even though it wasn’t a difficult question. “No.”
“That’s right. Now, can you picture yourself having sweaty, needy, mind-blowing sex with anyone other than David?”
“No.” Finding that with someone else was … unfathomable.
“Can you imagine being with anyone else for the rest of your life?”
“No.” The thought of feeling that way about someone else was even more … unfathomable. She was pretty sure she’d known David was the only one for her the night they’d met at Brews Brothers.
“When you find all that, you don’t let it go,” Jules said earnestly. “So what are you waiting for?”
Paige pushed her plate to the side, even though she hadn’t finished her dinner, and leaned forward. “What am I waiting for? I’m scared shitless.”
“Why?”
The blandly asked question pissed Paige off. “Look, I know you’re fearless when it comes to everything, but I’m not like you—”
“I know you’re not like me. That’s why I’m asking why you are scared shitless. So we can discuss it.”
Paige took a deep breath. “This isn’t just about me and David.”
Jules pushed her own plate away, then rested her elbows on the table. “I know. A little boy is also involved.”
Paige nodded, picturing Jacob in her mind. Since that moment a few months ago, when she’d accidentally seen him at the park with David, the vision had not faded at all. “I’m afraid if shit goes south with David this time, I’ll have to leave both of them. And if that happens, I’m truly fucked.”
“I get it. I do. That being said, I still think you should jump in with both feet, because this is what you’ve worked so hard for. To get to this place, where you can live your best, most fulfilling life with someone, right? And regardless of who that person was going to be, it was always going to involve risk going forward, since there’s risk in everything. But with that person being David, I actually see less risk, especially since this time around your connection with him is stronger than before. Now, while I know that’s not a guarantee of a happily-ever-after, it’s the closest thing to it.” Jules reached out and grasped Paige’s hands, squeezing, hard. “And Jacob is going to be a part of that … you just need to get out of your own way and let it happen.”
Then, because she was Jules, she had to add, “Damn, I really wish I could be in the room when Ashley finds out you and David are back together.”