I Love My Healed Heart: 4 Book Box Set/Omnibus (Erotic Romance) (8 page)

So my girls are in the East Village. Near my home! Cool.

I text back: On my way.

One last text from Amber: Do you think something will come of this?

Me: He’s The Bitch’s Ex, Amb.

Amber: Emphasis on EX

Me: I don’t know…

Running down into the subway to catch the L train, I lose my signal.
As I wait for the train, see all the people around me the idea occurs to me
that there are so many people on the planet, why not have a little fun? I
ignore the nagging thought that I’m just scared of getting hurt again. I don’t
know how I feel about James. But I sure as hell know how I feel about Satana
Incarnate. And I think it’s a good idea to avoid him, no matter how hot that
shower was. Or the bathroom. Or the fingering in the middle of the office,
thing. Sigh. My body tingles just thinking about it.

But Amber’s question haunts me the whole ride over, and not because
I’m thinking of James.
Do you think
something will come of this?
I think something is coming from all of this
and that something is my life. I’m on a grand adventure. We all are. I don’t
have the answers and when I thought I had them, they were wrong. I hesitate to
plan or hope or try anymore.

I’ve been through so much pain over David’s betrayal. I trusted him
and he hurt me very badly, but I’m fine now, I think. I released the last of my
pain when I cried those surprising tears in the shower; the bittersweet
release. I think I’m over it now. If I saw him again I think I’d just say, Hi
David. I wish you the best. I don’t plan on hanging out with you anytime for
the rest of my life… but be well and be happy.

As the train slides to a stop, I walk off and smile at a cute guy who
passes me to board. I shoot a look over my shoulder and wink at him, ignoring
the ache in my stomach. That’ll go away soon. I need a little room to be wild.
I can’t wait to tell everything to Nicole and Amber!

We never know what’s going to happen when we wake up in the morning,
do we? I mean, wow! There’s no use in planning. Just ride the wave... that’s
all we can do. And then tell our girlfriends about it, of course
J

The End Of Part 2

By Sabrina Lacey

Contents

1 Meeting Up With My
Ladies

2 Thursday

3 Shoebox Sweet Shoebox

4 Friday

5 Minutes Later

6 That Night

7 Around 10 P.M.

Meeting Up With My Ladies

By the
time I get to the lounge bar
Angel’s
Share
, my ladies have concocted a story amongst themselves about my
seducing James. They think I asked him out. Then he and I had dinner, wine,
roses, conversation (as if) and then – surprise! – we made love.

Um. No.

“He slid
his hand under my skirt in the middle of the office, in the middle of the day,
uninvited!” I announce triumphantly.

“What?!!”
They explode in unison.

Nicole
practically shouts, “No way. NO WAY,” as Amber just keeps shaking her head like
a shocked smiling robot whose jaw has fallen in love with the floor.

We’re
sitting at the bar. I’m on the right, Amber is in the middle and Nicole is on
the left. Amber’s chair is pushed out so we’re in the shape of a V, which is kind
of perfect now that I think about it. I reach over and grab each of them by the
arms.

“Way. It
was so unbelievably, mind-blowingly hot!”

Amber
blurts, “What is happening with you lately? It’s like there
is
a God and he’s sending you these
gorgeous hunks to help you get over David.”

“I’m over
David,” I argue. My best girlfriends share a look, which I choose to wave off
so I can tell my story. Let them think what they want. I’m completely over
fuckhead and his cheating betraying bullshit. “So this is how it went,” I say
and launch into the story of what happened with me and James.

When I
get to the part where I found out less than an hour ago that he dated The
Bitch, we are all stunned together. They’ve met her too, over the four years
I’ve been working at the magazine. We all agree that it’s hard to see that
woman dating anyone, because she seems like such a sexless controlling monster.
That she sent flowers to James, hoping to get him back? Well, that’s
ridiculously hard to wrap my mind around. I turn to them for answers.

Amber
wags a delicate finger at an idea, as she takes a sip of her buttery
chardonnay. “You know what though? She’s a woman and we women – all of us
– just want to be loved. So she sent a few flowers. Makes sense.”

Nicole
plays with the straw in her Bombay Sapphire tonic, and agrees, “It’s true. We
all want that, even her. I feel a little sorry for her. She’s a power player.
Everyone does what she wants. And she’s used to calling the shots. You can
tell, because
she’s
sending
him
flowers, to try and reconcile. But
men are the pursuers, so in truth, she’s screwing herself.”

“Because
he won’t screw her, when she does that,” I agree.

“Nope.
Men give the flowers to you. Never give a man flowers,” Nicole agrees.

I nod,
laughing. “Not unless you want to confuse him. Because he’ll like them. Kind
of… because, who doesn’t like flowers? And nice gesture, right? But then, he
won’t want to sleep with you. And he won’t know why! Nor will you! But after
many sexless nights, you’ll know. It’s because you reversed roles. You took
away the desire he had to slam you up against a wall and show you who’s
boss…and you took it away with a seemingly innocuous bunch of roses.”

“You
think that’s true?” Amber asks from a distant place. She is staring forward
into a memory, her eyes clouded by approaching awareness.

Nicole
and I both answer, without pause, “Yes.”

“Oh my
God.” Amber looks to each of us and all of a sudden Nicole and I know what
she’s going to say before she says it. “I gave Josh flowers.”

“That’s
it!!! That’s why you’re not getting laid!” I yell out, as if she just won the
Lottery. This attracts the attention of more than a few people, including the
female of the two bartenders working tonight. The she-bartender pretends to
look down at a glass she’s shining, but I can see she is extremely curious as
to what we’re talking about.

“Why’d
you give him flowers, Amber?” Nicole asks, her wrist on the bar, with all of
her fingers up and waiting. How bad is this situation, her hand is asking when
her mouth does not. It’s saying, “Hold on now. What are we talking about here?
A couple of little flowers, or an enormous bouquet and tickets to the opera?”

Amber
looks uncomfortable, defensive and guilty. Her cute little blond head is
miserable as she confesses, “When we moved in together four months ago, I
bought him a big bouquet of flowers. Like big, big bouquet. I wanted to
celebrate!”

Nicole
and I look at each other and Nicole asks the question I’m thinking. “What
colors?”

“Lavender
and…”

“No!” I
exclaim before she adds…

“Pink,”
she admits, dejected.

“Pink? Oh
boy. Pink is never good to give to a man. Blue, maybe. But even then… N.O.” I
sigh, wondering where to begin.

Nicole’s
hand collapses. She picks up her gin and takes a big disbelieving gulp.

“Excuse
me,” I call to the she-bartender and add, “Can I please have another?”

“Chopin
on the rocks?” she asks while bent forward, shoving a glass into the water of a
sink I can’t see. She’s a brunette, brown eyes, tank top and black jeans, and
since she’s a bartender, she’s very pretty. But we’re not afraid of pretty
girls. They have the most trouble making friends, in fact. Knowing this will
help you in ways you don’t even know. Trust me.

“Yes. Two
limes. Thank you. Love your hair.”

She
beams, surprised, “Thanks!”

I turn
back to Amber. “Okay. This is good.”

Nicole’s
eyes fly to me. Amber jerks toward me, all the cells in her body hopeful as she
asks, “Good? It’s good? Really?”

“How is
this good?” Nicole asks, stupefied.

“Thank
you,” I say to the she-bartender as my drink arrives. I saw her pour and it was
generous. See what I mean? And now she’s hanging around. This is when the three
of us realize she’d been listening for a while. Which is fine. Everyone needs
to know these things if we want to have happy relationships. I include her in
the conversation with a quick summary. “My friend Amber here is a sweetheart.
Look at her. Blond adorable little elf, am I right?”

“So
cute,” agrees the she-bartender. Amber smiles, thankfully. Nicole nods,
acknowledges the female moment and waits for the lowdown, all business. “This
is serious people,” is all over her face.

I take a
deep breath and lay it all out on the counter. “Right. So Amber thinks that her
man wants to be treated like how she treats her girlfriends. Us. Amber’s the type
of girl who always remembers big days – birthdays, anniversaries,
promotions. She sends cards. She calls. Amber lets you know, without wanting
anything in return, that she has your back. It’s amazing and we love you for
it,” I say, touching Amber’s arm to say thank you for being you.

“We do
love it. Don’t change.” Nicole touches her other arm, and holds it. Amber is
flanked by support as she copes with the realization that she is the cause for
the no-sex-diet she’s unwittingly signed up for.

“So,” I
continue, “when you gave him flowers, you treated him like he was one of your
girlfriends. Neither he, nor you, realized it, as it was happening… but you
reversed roles! It has been since caveman days that men hit us over the head
and carry us back to the cave. They do the wooing. They bring the flowers in
hopes of getting action. If you bring the flowers, it tells them you are hoping
for action. And if you are hoping, then there is a chance that no action is
coming. And why would there be no action coming? They’re men. There’s always
action coming. So not only did you reverse the roles, but you made him
second-guess if he was bringing the action. Does this make sense?”

Amber
nods.

Nicole
wants to help our disconsolate little elf and prods me, impatiently, “So, why
is this good?”

Both
Amber and the bartender look to me. Someone calls for a drink but the
she-bartender ignores them, which I love her for. This is my new favorite
place.

“This is
good because now we know the reason. This whole time we haven’t known what was
wrong with Josh, and now we know!”

“So I can
fix it!” Amber shouts.

“So you
can fix it!” I shout back, knowing I’ve just made her day. Amber loves to fix
things.

But then
her eyes go blank and she bites her lips. “Um…how do I fix it?”

All eyes
are on me. There’s a lot of pressure, but I can take it. “You start playing the
helpless girl. All of a sudden, jars are very hard to open. You can’t put on
your necklace without help. You drop things wearing a skirt that’s too short
– or better yet – just panties, since you live together. ‘Oh, oops.
I dropped that.’ But then don’t look at him or pressure him in any way. Just
walk away like you didn’t just show him your ass and your lady bits.”

“That’s
genius. I would’ve expected something from that move,” she-bartender says.

“You
can’t. You’re planting seeds. Building the bridge. It may not happen that day.
It might. Either way, don’t take it personally. Allow it to take time.”

Amber’s
got her phone out and is taking notes in an app. “Right. ‘take time.’ What
else?”

I stick
my finger in my drink and lick it, like I didn’t know I was being sexy. They
all get it, nod understanding. Boom. That lesson learned, I list off, “You call
or text him, saying you’re lost and does he know how to get to such-and-such? And
then reply with a big smiling emoticon and ‘You’re a lifesaver. I was soooo
lost.’ You listen to his day and you don’t talk about yours. Just for a while.
Don’t worry, this part is only temporary. And you do not, I repeat, do NOT
correct him on anything, or tell him how to do anything. If he drinks out of
the carton, or leaves the seat up… I. Do. Not. Care! You keep your mouth shut.
If you see him flipping through the channels and oops, he just passed a show he
would like – do not tell him! If he needs to brush his teeth – do
not say a word! Let him get his ‘man’ on. Let him be king of the castle. Do it,
and soon he will be bending you over the couch and showing you his smoking-hot
gratitude.”

“Holy
crap. That’s amazing.” Nicole says.

“Wow,”
says the she-bartender.

“What’s
your name?” I ask her.

 
“Jenn,” she answers.

My ladies
and I all smile and say in varying times, “Hi, Jenn.”

Amber,
back in her own world starts nodding and thinking, then nodding and thinking
some more until finally she declares, “I can do that!”

“I know
you can, baby. It’ll be tough, but you can do it.”

“The
reward is greater than the pain,” Nicole toasts, glass lifted.

The three
of us clink our glasses together and Jenn says, “Next one’s on me. I’m married,
and things are about to get good again.”

This
makes me feel great.

Let me be
clear…

It’s not
that men need us to play stupid for them. No, it’s that they need us to make
room for them. We need to understand that they like to help us, they want to
feel needed. They love taking care of us. They hate being told what to do.
Being told a better way to do something? Major turn off. Think about it. It
assumes you don’t think they can do it. And if, in truth, you don’t…then do it
yourself and be quiet.

Sure. We
can do everything ourselves. So can they! That’s not the point. People aren’t
supposed to be alone. We live longer with company. Be good company so they can
be good company… and don’t quit five minute before the miracle. As Gandhi said,
“You must be the change you want to see in your relationship!” Or…something
wise like that.

That’s
what gets me about what David did. He didn’t tell me he was unhappy. He didn’t
tell me what he needed. I didn’t see any signs that he was unhappy, so… was he?
It wasn’t like Amber and Josh where they never have sex, so there’s obviously
something going on. With David, he was all over me. We stayed up late and
talked about our days. We did things together - went to Central Park, checked
out new bands, tried interesting restaurants, stayed in on Sunday mornings
wearing sweats and snuggling on the couch with our coffee. It was great. It was
amazing, actually.

So why
did he cheat on me? Why did he crush me like that? Was he unhappy? I don’t
think so.

I think
some people are cheaters, no matter who they’re with.

But it’s okay. I’ve over
it. Couldn’t care less.