Love Confessed (4 page)

No. I don’t even know this girl, this girl whose never taken longer than two seconds to acknowledge me. I just can’t help but think in that second, minute, hour, however long it was, that maybe she doesn’t hate me. Maybe she noticed me too? Maybe she isn’t a snob, maybe she is just shy? Or reserved for some reason? She broke the look as soon as she could and wouldn’t even look my direction when I tried to hand her the papers she’d scattered, but it was the longest minute I’d had in, well, I don’t know how long. I am not one of those guys who are afraid to be emotional but being both mom and dad to my six year old daughter as well as losing her mom, my high school sweetheart, has taught me not to rattle easy. I like to be in control. This feeling, feeling like I’m spinning out of control in that moment, like I don’t know what’s happening, is one I can do without.

But just a minute later it’s over; Leah practically runs back to her office, Scott walks back into his office laughing, and I walk back out to my truck. Off to the next meeting then back to my office. It’s May - the perfect season for high profile weddings, graduation parties for spoiled private school rich kids in the city, summer concert season is starting, and I am swamped. I know I have to leave but I do so on autopilot because ever instinct I have tells me to walk straight into Leah’s office.

By Wednesday I still can’t get Leah off of my mind. I’m pretty sure Abby has noticed my attention being elsewhere and has a huge melt down. Since I have the Sanders and Smith party on Friday, she is going to stay with her grandma this weekend. She’s usually an easygoing kid and every time she’s started acting out in the past I could just give her a look. With that look, she would laugh and suddenly everything would be ok. But this time is different I – I try the look and…nothing. Man, sometimes I feel like I’m in over my head trying to raise a girl on my own. I don’t understand them at all. Her mother always just told me when things were wrong and I would fix it or at least try. Unfortunately for me, six year olds aren’t quite so forthcoming with helpful information about their feelings. Abby either has be wrapped around her little finger and looks at me like she knows it, or she looks at me like I’m an alien speaking some sort of Martian to her. I think we need to work on our in-between.

“No Dad! I don’t want to go to grandma’s house!” she yells and then burst into tears, crumbling into a heap on the kitchen floor.

“Well I’m sorry Abby, but I have adult things going on this weekend and I need for you to stay at grandma’s house. Plus you haven’t seen her in over a month. So please stop with this fit.”

“Why daddy? Why do you have to leave me? Please daddy.” she sobs. “Don’t make me go.” I sit down on the kitchen floor next to her.

“Abby, honey, what’s going on with you? You have never not wanted to go stay with Grandma. Can you talk to me, please? Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.” I explain on her level, with her perfect little face in my hands so I can look right into her eyes.

I must look really desperate because, as I watch her calm herself down, I can see the look of sadness and empathy in her eyes. After several minutes of just looking at each other she climbs into my lap, looks up and says,

“A boy at school has been picking on me. He said I don’t have a mommy. He pushes me and yesterday he wouldn’t let me look at his Iron Man.”

“I’m sorry baby. Boys can be mean sometimes. You do have a mommy she just watches over you from heaven. Did you say anything back to him?”

It’s hard to not let her see how this breaks my heart. I know kids can be cruel, but to tease a girl because she doesn’t have a mom seems ridiculous.

“I told him he didn’t have a daddy because he doesn’t and some of the kids tease him about it. Neither of us have parents who come to class like the other kids. It makes me sad to see the other girls with their mommies,” she confesses.

“Well, I know your feelings were hurt honey but that still wasn’t very nice of you to say that to him, even if he said it first,” I reprimand her, even though I don’t want to. Even though I want to tell her to kick his ass if he ever says something like that to her again. “Sometimes, honey, kids don’t have both parents, sometimes the parents don’t live together and some kids do have both parents. We all come from different backgrounds and it’s not nice to tease each other about it. Unfortunately, baby, most parents have to work. I really do wish I could come to your class more often. Next time he’s mean to you I want you to stand up for yourself and tell him that he’s being mean. Tell him he needs to stop and if that doesn’t work you need to tell your teacher. Now are you going to be ok to go to grandma’s this weekend?”

“Yes daddy, I’ll be okay. I love you.” as she says she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek.

“I love you too sweetheart.” I love it when she hugs me tight, like she never wants to let me go.  Her gentleness reminds me of her mother and it makes my heart hurt sometimes.

Thursday I miss picking Abby up from school because I’m working late trying to tie up all my loose ends before the weekend. Today is my Friday so I have all of my normal get ready for the weekend schedule prep and plan approval on top of getting ready for tomorrow’s Sanders and Smith event. I try my hardest to pick Abby up as often as possible and to not miss any of the big moments in her life, even more so because I’m both mom and dad. 

Today I don’t feel as bad for missing pick up because Grandma is picking her up. After last night’s meltdown was resolved, Abby can’t wait to be picked up by her favorite person. I love that she’s so close to my mom, and fortunate that they live close enough to spend so much time together. I can’t always go to the farm with Abby and I miss her like crazy when she’s gone but I know that the time away from the city is good for her not only because of the fresh air, the animals and the different, slower way of life but also because she gets to spend time with the warm, caring, gentle woman that is my mother. A grandmother is obviously an important role model to a young girl anyway, but with Abby’s mom not being here, Grandma is her idol and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have to admit, she’s kind of stayed my idol too. She has that effect on people.

Normally I am equally excited to see my mom but this time I am dragging my day out as long as possible because if Abby has picked up on my distraction, mom will too.  I’m pretty sure I won’t get off as easy with her either and I’m not ready for the mom inquisition. I don’t know that I ever will be. Not because she wouldn’t be open to the idea of me being in a serious relationship, but because it’s an idea she likes to push. She loved Janie like the daughter she’d never had but she also likes to point out that I am still young She wants me to be happy, to have somebody to help take care of Abby, to have another person for me to come home to at night. Mom also likes to remind me of how Janie only ever wanted for me to be happy and how she’d hate to see me be lonely. I know my mom is right but unfortunately that doesn’t make moving on any easier for me.

I’ve lost count of the phone calls I’ve gotten from my mom about people she has run into from high school who were now single that I might possibly be interested in. I also try to block out the pictures of church women’s group she sends with a brief dialogue about all single women included into the email. The one that takes the cake though would have to be the phone call I got from my first girlfriend, in junior fucking high, because my mom gave her my phone number last year.

So yea, tonight will be a late night.

My night ends up being later than anticipated though, when there is a last minute parking conflict due to another event in the facility adjacent to the Sanders and Smith event tomorrow. I called my mom to let her know that I won’t be home until late this evening. I shouldn’t be surprised by the sight when I get home but I still am. Mom is finishing up cleaning the kitchen, which I’d made sure to clean before she came to town. So I walk around the corner to peek in the fridge and freezer to find that they are both full of a handful of my favorite perfectly prepared and labeled meals. Jesus. I don’t think she knows how to sit down, but I appreciate all of the kind things she does for me, all of the time she still continues to sacrifice willingly to make mine and Abby’s life just a little bit easier. I walk over and give her a bear hug, which now having a child I love myself, I know to be the best feeling in the world.

The distraction I was worried about my mom seeing is masked by my exhaustion from the long day, and, after a short chat mom and I both head upstairs and part ways. She is picking Abby up from school tomorrow and taking her to the farm. I will be making sure everything is in order for the party and probably, by that point in the evening, be enjoying an ice cold beer with Scott. I have the strange feeling though that I’ll be drinking that beer and trying to look nonchalant while I scan the room for any sight of Leah. She’s been in and out of my head all week and I just can’t figure her out. I can’t figure out if what I saw in her eyes was desire. I can’t figure out why the fact that she smelled like fresh flowers ignited all my senses but I am more than a little curious to figure it out. I need to e close to her again.

3
Leah

Friday. It’s finally Friday.

God, I can’t tell if I’m excited or anxious, or maybe a little bit of both. I feel like I do the morning of a flight. I’ve flown a thousand times, I love flying, but until the wheels tuck into the bottom of the plane I also feel this inexplicable jitter of nerves. Stomach a little twisty. Hands a little shaky. Hoping I get to the airport lounge early enough for a quick cocktail before I have to board the plane. After a fitful night of sleep, that’s exactly how I feel when I wake up this morning.

Unfortunately for me though, there is no airport lounge in my near future, and I’m pretty sure sneaking a mimosa into my travel mug before I take Ethan to school will take me out of the running for mom of the year. So hopefully coffee will be enough to calm my nerves this morning. Aaaand with this internal struggle playing out in my head, my alarm goes off so I begrudgingly roll myself out of bed. My alarm going off is honestly just kind of a cruel joke at this point – a reminder that in some sort of alternate universe I maybe could have stayed asleep until this point.

What the hell is wrong with me?!? Why am I freaking out like this? I’m attractive, intelligent, successful, witty, twenty-nine year old lawyer. I’m not suffering from any lack of male attention. So why did I toss and turn all night, in and out of sleep, with fantasies of feeling that strong, firm chest I want to feel so badly again? The chest of one of my firm’s clients.  A chest that I quite literally ran into in the office halls on Monday. Actually, my fantasies involve feeling much more than his chest but my fortunately for my sanity, my thoughts are derailed again – this time as my son Ethan comes running into my room with his backpack on.

“Mom, I’m ready! Can I go to auntie’s now?”

“No buddy, not yet. You have to go to school first and then you’ll go to auntie’s Em’s house to stay the night.”

“But mooommmmm. Why? Can’t I skip school just this once? Please?”

“Ethan, I’m pretty sure you know the answer to this already…”

“But I’m not feeling very well,” he moans, followed by the fakest cough I’ve ever heard. Ha. This kid.

“Well honey, maybe I should call your aunt and let her know that she can’t take you to the pier tomorrow morning since you’re not feeling well…”

“Ugh, fine mom. I guess I’ll go to school!” He stomps away.

I can never figure out when six became the new thirteen, but at least this mild altercation with my son has me laughing. My morning is now underway and once I’m into the swing of things, I’m much too busy for shaky hands or turning stomachs.

After dropping Ethan off at school, I run into work five minutes late because I was in dire need of a caramel macchiato. A need that more than justified my tardiness. Before I know it, my Friday of consults is underway and I manage to also pull off the last minute plans for next weeks’ vacation. My sister Emily just came back into Chicago last night, so next week I am taking a long overdue vacation to spend time with her and help her settle  back into life in the city I feel bad taking a vacation without Ethan, but Emily has been finishing her master’s in France for the last two years and we’ve only been able to see each other a handful of times.

Needless to say, we are long overdue in catching up in all things sisterly. She has a few interviews and I’m hoping she’ll be up for apartment hunting next week too. She landed late last night and will likely sleep the day away adjusting to time zones before she braves taking Ethan out for whatever fun plans they have tonight followed by a pier excursion tomorrow morning. As much as she can’t wait to see him (they’re thick as thieves, often I think in some sort of conspiratorial pact to drive me crazy), I’m glad she was smart enough to spend the night at a hotel because we both know there is no way Ethan would have let her sleep if she was at our apartment.

Also, I’m looking forward to a lazy morning sobering up after a party where I’m certain I’ll drink too much. Too much, in all fairness, doesn’t mean much since I now have a strict mom/three-drinks-and-I’m-21-again tolerance. I’m sure I’ll
need
AT LEAST a morning to recover before I join Emily and Ethan for a round of laser tag and a movie tomorrow night. At least, Em and I have a relaxing week of spa dates, museum touring, and getting to be foodies without Ethan sitting across the table rolling his eyes at his food and asking why we couldn’t just get pizza. Yes, mom time is definitely something I need. My grandma is even coming down for the second half of the week and I can’t wait to see her either!

              I’m working as quickly as I can to tie up my loose ends before vacation when I hear a quick rap on my door. Surprised to find that it’s 4 o’clock, I look up to see my boss leaning in my door. Scott Sanders looks as dashing as ever in his perfectly fitted tux. He is still very attractive at his age and there’s no question that he knows it. My charming womanizer of a boss is tall with a muscular but lean build, salt and pepper hair and the deepest blue eyes. When I first started working here we developed a mild flirtation but he was so arrogant I couldn’t imagine actually dating him. That being said, we’ve still managed to uphold our friendly banter and it hasn’t become any less flirtatious or entertaining over the year.

“Hey Leah,” he says. “When were you planning on heading over? Want to cut out early with me and get our drink on?”

“Actually, that sounds perfect. I’m just going to get ready here. Give me half an hour?” The party doesn’t start until seven but I’d definitely rather be a couple of drinks in when I see Steve again.

“Fair enough but I need a healthy buzz before this show starts so don’t take too long,” he winks and walks out.

I quickly finish the last email I’m working on, grab my bag and dress, and head down to the small ladies locker room just through the in office gym. I rinse off, then re-straighten the mess of curls I’d already managed to tame this morning. While it would have been nice to get ready while relaxing and being pampered, time was a luxury I wasn’t afforded this week. I also wasn’t entirely sure I trusted myself alone with my thoughts for that long, given their wayward direction since Steve caught me. So with my hair pinned up in a tasteful chignon and makeup that is simple and elegant - light blush, shimmery eyes, pale pink lips - I slip into my blue silk chiffon dress.

Oh and this dress, I’m in love. I have more than enough chances to dress up…I attend my fair share of black tie events, charity balls, fundraising galas and such, but I absolutely fell in love with this dress when I tried it on. It has a strapless sweetheart neckline drawing attention to the criss-cross softly touched bodice below. The dress cinches tightly around my waist and falls simply and beautifully to the floor.  God, do I look good in it. Like most women, I’ve struggled with insecurities over different parts of my body through the years. It hasn’t always been easy. I am busty, and have more curves than a lot of the women I know, I am soft but fit and, for the most part, have learned to love every inch of myself. Even after I had Ethan, the amount of stress I was under as a law student and a new single mom had me coming out even thinner than before I got pregnant. Of course, over the years I’ve learned that I have to put more and more time in at the gym to maintain said figure. Even though I’m fairly comfortable in my skin, I could do without the few stretch marks I couldn’t avoid adopting during my pregnancy but hey, what’s a girl gonna do.

I do one more turn in the mirror and can’t help but smile at the end result. I head back upstairs and find Scott facing the full-length windows of his office while talking on his cell phone. He hears me right when I step in and turns around, jaw dropping. He stops mid-sentence; I smile and shake my head at him. The person on the other end of the line must snap him back to life because he finally responds, “Yeah, well anyway, I look forward to seeing you tonight, Bob” and he hangs up.

I will say that Scott knows how to make a woman feel like she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. The
only
woman he’s ever seen. It’s a gift that I’m sure has felt more like a curse to some of the many women who have fallen head over heels for him. Scott strides over to me and we link arms as we head out of his office. “You know Leah, the position for wife number four is still open. Sure you’re not interested in applying?” he asks looking down at me. We laugh as we walk out arm in arm with my head on his shoulder. Although we’re both attractive people, we’re not exactly attracted to one another which makes this yet flirty friendship that harmlessly manages to lighten up work days that can otherwise be a little bit overwhelming sometimes. We head downstairs talking about the clients we look forward to seeing and other obligatory invites we’ll do our best to avoid.

As we step out of the building and the back door of the waiting limo opens, I almost squeal with delight when I see Lydia Smith. She’s the wife of William Smith, Scott’s best friend and the other founding partner of our firm. William has been out on health leave and Lydia, a normally present voice in the office, has been out caring for him. I’ve always been close to Lydia, just like everybody else who has probably ever met her. I can imagine it would be hard not to fall in love with her. Her motherly concern, her kind smile, and her soft blue eyes remind me of my mother and just the sight of Lydia always puts a smile on my face. Catching up with her makes the drive go quickly and before I know it, she and I are now walking hand in hand into the entertainment hall of the Waldorf Astoria.

The venue is almost ready for the evening; the feel of the gathering is cool and sophisticated yet still inviting. Scott leaves our side to talk to a colleague about yesterday’s Cubs game while I head to the bar with Lydia and grab a welcome glass of champagne. A few minutes later, guests are slowly beginning to trickle in and I turn when I hear Scott call a friendly greeting to an entering guest across the hall. When I look up towards the entrance I see deep emerald eyes look over and lock with mine. He almost skips a step and his cool slips just a beat. In that moment there is no doubt, he was looking for me. The predatory look in his eyes erases any lingering questions about our encounter on Monday. That look, that falter in his step, convinces me that I couldn’t have been the only one to feel that spark in the hall. This knowledge, combined with the glass of champagne I’d just downed, do a poor job of letting me ignore that little flutter that starts in my stomach and works its way down just a little bit lower…

Our eye contact is broken as Scott reaches Steve and pats him on the shoulder at the same time that my attention is called away by my assistant Kelly. Soon enough, the party is in full swing and it really is a lovely celebration. The food is exquisite, the champagne is to die for, and the amount of fun I’m having lets me know exactly how much I needed this night to let loose and enjoy myself.  When I catch myself laughing more than is warranted at the corny jokes in Scott’s speech, I realize I’m drunk. I haven’t had a night out without Ethan in a long time so I am taking full advantage. Oh well, I deserve it.

I can’t even fully remember the last time I was drunk, really drunk. Maybe two years ago when helping Emily get settled into France? Whenever it was, I’m sure it was much too long ago and I’m having an absolute blast tonight. Even though my lack of sobriety turns me an ungodly shade of red when Scott thanks me for my work and everybody turns to look at me. It feels good to be recognized, and I suddenly feel a little bit less drained from the hard work I’ve put in. The band starts back up and people happily make their way to the dance floor, while I turn and head the few feet over to the bar for one last drink before I call it a night. As I walk up to the bar the man in front of me turns around right as I walk up behind him and bumps into me causing me to stumble a little but he catches me and steadies me with his hands on my waist…wait…I recognize these hands… this feeling. Crap.

As I look at the strong hands on waist and register who it is, I can’t decide whether to look up at him and laugh or just turn and run away. As I’m certain running in my drunken state with these shoes on would be a terrible and embarrassing spectacle, it looks like looking up may be my only option. Ugh. Seriously, we must stop running into each other like this! But when I look up and see him smiling at me with that playful, crooked smile all I can do is smile back and let him pull me over to the dance floor. We don’t even talk for a minute, a minute that once again feels like hours. We just stare at each other, and I can feel my heart racing like it hasn’t since, well, Monday when I was this close to him. He smells even better than I remember more masculine, and that hair! God I want to run my hands through that hair while he is lying on top of me. The thought makes me shiver ever so slightly and I lick my lips that are suddenly desperately parched, and he notices it all. Every breath. Because he hasn’t stopped staring at me.

I relax into him and as the song winds down I start twirling his hair, the hair I can reach with my wrists crossed behind his neck. I sway gently to the music as he holds me and before I realize what’s happening, he has danced me to the edge of the room and is taking my hand and leading me out. I should stop. I should turn around and go back to the party. I should say something, I know I should. But I can’t. I’ve lost my words.  This strange magnetism I feel to him is keeping me from doing anything but willingly following him wherever it is that he’s leading me.

The part that gets to me the most is how I trust myself to go wherever it is that he’s leading me. How I just know that he won’t hurt me. The spot his hand is resting at – that dip at the where the bottom of my back curves into the top of my butt, a spot that would set off red flags with anybody else, has me feeling safe with Steve. I lean back a little more into his hold. The moment we are in the hall outside of the party his lips are on mine. After several minutes, I’m jolted out of my trance and I push him back, afraid to give in. Aaaand I’m back, in all of my calculating, reserved glory.