Mister Fixit (Love in New York #3) (11 page)

My heart crumbles in on itself, and I feel the insane urge to bawl like a baby. Stepping into my apartment, I slam the door behind me. I guess everyone knows what a horrible bitch I am now. Even my own brother is telling me to stay away, as if I’m the one who’s the bad influence.

Why is my own family against me? I’m not the one who did anything wrong. If anything, I’m the only one who did anything right. James was hardly there when Cassie was born. I had to practically force him to take her overnight, and he only did it because he felt guilty. After that, it was Leah who always offered. So why do I feel so horrible about Robinson being okay with staying away and my brother telling me to back off? It was my idea, for chrissake. Ugh, I hate being this confused inside my own head.

The buzzer goes off in the front entrance of my apartment, distracting me from my inner rant. I go over and press the button.

“Hello?”

“It’s your friendly neighborhood plumber, here for intensive couch therapy.”

I press the button, trying to muster up a smile for a guy who deserves none of my bitchy mood. “Come on up.”

I hear the door click and lift my finger from the button. Time to put on my happy face and get through this night with my heart in one piece.

Chapter Seventeen

JAKE ARRIVES WITH A BAG in each hand and a giant smile. It only slips a little when he sees my expression.

“Best Indian food in Manhattan, delivered hot to your doorstep.”

I open the door farther and gesture for him to come in. “You can put the bags right on the table.”

He leans in and kisses me on the cheek before he continues on into the apartment. I try to act like it’s totally natural and casual, but it takes me by surprise. It’s kind of strange to see him bent over my kitchen sink during the day and bringing me dinner with a kiss at night. It’s not entirely unpleasant… just weird. It’s like we’re a couple, but we’re not.

We should be; I mean, it totally makes sense on paper. He’s hot and gainfully employed with a great reputation. I’m single and looking. He’s obviously interested. I
should
be interested. So what’s wrong with me? Why the hesitation? Why all the awkwardness every time we’re together in a semi-romantic situation? I don’t have this problem with him on the job site. We work together all day long without a single heart flutter. I joke around with him like we know each other way more than we do. But when we’re alone and he kisses my cheek, I start wanting to hide in the closet. I’m definitely the one who needs some couch therapy.

He unpacks the food while I take out and uncork a bottle of wine.

“I wasn’t sure if you like your food spicy, so I told the chef to give it to us half and half.”

“Good choice. But I do like it spicy so…”

He finishes the sentence for me. “Next time I’ll kick it up a notch.”

I smile, happy about the idea of another meal with him. He is so damn easy on the eyes. Tonight he’s wearing designer jeans and a university sweatshirt that makes him look ten years younger. I’ll bet he was the hottest guy in his entire class. It makes me wonder again why his best friend is a dog and not a woman.

“Did you go there?” I ask, pointing at the Fighting Irish mascot on the front. “Notre Dame?”

“Sure did. Played basketball there too.”

“You did? Huh.” Now that I think about it, he does look pretty athletic.
 
Broad shoulders. Tall enough to be a point guard. Robinson was on the crew team at school. He was always so lean.

My hands freeze as I realize I’m comparing Jake to Robinson, as if Jake has to measure up to him — to the guy I told to go away and never come back, and then started missing when he followed my instructions.

I walk over and put my hand on Jake’s shoulder. I need to put an end to this craziness and now. It’s time for me to move on and leave the past behind.

He stops moving food boxes around and smiles as he sees me getting closer.

I stand on tiptoe to kiss him.

He turns to me and holds my hips gently in his hands. His head tips down and he joins me in the kiss.

For years and years I imagined what it might be like to kiss Robinson. I stood under the mistletoe at Christmas I don’t know how many times, hoping he might accidentally step under there with me and then be required to kiss me. He never did, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming about what it would feel like and taste like, to have his lips press against mine. I’m ashamed to think of how many times I practiced with my pillow.

Why I’m flashing back to memories of Robinson when I’m kissing a guy who played basketball for the Fighting Irish and has the body to show for it, I don’t know. It’s some evil trick karma is playing on me, making it impossible for me to enjoy good fortune when I finally get some in my life.

I pull away with a scowl.

He looks at me and blinks a few times before he speaks. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know.” I walk away and wave it off. “I’m sorry. I just… got carried away.”

“I promise I can do better. You just took me by surprise.”

He sounds so sincere, I have to smile. Looking up at him, I feel my face going a little red. He must think I’m insane. “Your kiss was perfect. There’s nothing to improve on.”

“Then why the horrible face after? Is it my breath?” He starts blowing into his palm and inhaling.

I reach out and punch him lightly in the arm. “Stop. It’s not you. It’s not your breath.”

“Are you married?”

I pick up a samosa and sigh loudly. “I
will
throw this at your head.”

He backs up and holds a plate up between us like a shield. “Knowing the way you throw a punch, I’m worried that’ll go right into my eye. Put that Chinese star samosa down, young lady.”

I laugh and drop it onto my plate. “Okay, fine. You’re safe now. Come on. Serve yourself up and come into the family room. We can watch TV while we eat.” My perfectly set table is going to stay that way, untouched. I’m not in the mood to be formal anymore. I’ve already ruined our night by bringing Robinson into it, and there’s no way I’m sleeping with Jake tonight. For sure I’ll be lying there comparing his body to the one I’ve imagine Robinson has without all his clothes on. I’m so completely pitiful, it’s sickening.

Jake follows my lead and takes a seat on the couch, putting his now shoeless feet up on the coffee table. The two of us munch away on our samosas and kashmir rice. He gives me the best bites of his chicken tikka and I let him eat all the bits of dried fruit from my rice.

“I can’t believe you like that stuff,” I say, dropping more pieces onto his plate. “You probably like fruitcake too.”

“I do,” he says, eating a whole forkful of fluorescent, candied fruit bits. “Love it. Christmas is my favorite holiday just because of that.”

I shake my head, pretending to be interested in the TV show. “I knew I’d discover your kryptonite eventually.”

“My kryptonite?”

“Yeah. The chink in the armor. The thing that revealed you for who you truly are.”

“I’m a fruitcake eater?”

“Yep.” I look at sideways at him. “I knew you were too good to be true.”

He pushes his rice around on his plate with his fork, his smile kind of sad. “Fruitcake isn’t the only chink, trust me.”

I stop chewing for a second and then narrow my eyes at him, intrigued. “Hmm, the man has secrets. Do tell.”

He shakes his head. “I told you already… I’ll share mine if you share yours.”

“Fine.” I lean forward and put my plate down on the coffee table. “I’m ready. Spill your guts.”

“I’m still eating,” he says, stabbing some chicken.

I take his plate away from him and put it next to mine. His fork is left dangling in the air in front of his open mouth.

“Last bite. Hurry up.”

He slides the chicken off the fork and hands the utensil to me. “Bossy.”

“Yup.” I put his fork on his plate and then slide over to the far side of the couch, sitting with my legs folded up under me.

He slings his arm over the back of the couch and twists a little in my direction. “You go first.”

I shake my head. “No. You go. I promise, though, I’ll talk.”

He sighs and then stares off into the distance, not really seeing me or my apartment. The lines in his face smooth out as he catches up with memories I already know are going to be difficult for him to dredge. I wait, giving him the time to gather his thoughts, wondering if I’m going to finally find out how a man as beautiful as he is can be so alone.

Chapter Eighteen

JAKE POKES HIS FINGER INTO his leg rhythmically as he talks, staring at the coffee table as the words first come reluctantly and then more quickly, as if he’s relieved to get them off his chest.

“I was always in and out of trouble in school. Even when I played on the basketball team, I was messing around with drugs and alcohol. Pretty much everyone did, so it wasn’t like I had a problem or anything. I still managed to keep up with the practices, and my grades weren’t bad. But then I injured my shoulder and had to take the bench. The pain killers were pretty awesome, especially when mixed with the drinking.”

He looks up at me and smiles sadly. “It was stupid, really. I thought I was invincible. But then one night I was messing around at a frat party and I fell out of a window and landed on a deck chair and really screwed my shoulder up.”

“You fell out of a
window
?” I blink a few times, trying to imagine this calm and easygoing guy being that much of a party hound.

“Yeah. Like I said, I was being stupid. So I ended up needing surgery to fix a torn rotator cuff, which ended my basketball career.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. My scholarships disappeared, and I had to pay my own way. It wasn’t easy, but I finished. Graduated.”

“And that’s it?” I was waiting for this big confession, but everything he’s told me so far is easy to write off as youthful indiscretions. I’ve never fallen out of a window, but I have been to parties were people jumped out of them.

“Not exactly,” he says, glancing at me and then staring at the table again.

“Uh-oh.”

He smiles a little. “What?”

“Why do I think you told me the easy story first?”

He shrugs and looks at me. “Because I did?”

I reach out with a foot and nudge him with it before tucking it back under me. “Keep talking, buddy. I have dessert waiting for us.”

“You may not want to share that dessert with me after I tell you.”

I cringe. “Oh. Okay. I hope you didn’t murder someone.”

He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. But bad enough that I won’t hold it against you if you deny me the dessert and ask me to go.”

He’s serious, I can tell by the look on his face. I tuck my feet in tighter and wrap the throw blanket around my shoulders, trying to ward off the sudden chill in the room.

“Go ahead. I’ll withhold judgment until you’re done.”

“Fair enough.” He nods. Then he goes back to poking his leg as he stares at the TV. I’m sure he’s not seeing the sitcom that’s currently playing, though. His voice is nearly a monotone.

“I had a bad temper after my surgery. I was angry at myself, my friends, at the coach. Pretty much anyone was a target. And the pain was bad. I’m not saying that as an excuse for what I did, but it was. I was on about three different painkillers. The rehab was hard, harder than anything I’d ever had to do before, and I’d been playing sports my whole life.”

I rub my shins, trying to get warm. The atmosphere in the room has gone so dark.

“I was dating this girl, Sophie, and I really liked her. I convinced myself I loved her and I was going to ask her to marry me, even though I really didn’t have any prospects at the time.”

He sighs heavily. “She started acting distant and then one night I went to a party and found her there with a guy from my team. I realized after a couple people said some things that it had been going on for a long time; I was the last to find out about it. And I thought the guy was my friend.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still not an excuse. I took a baseball bat and destroyed his car. And then when he came outside and tried to stop me, I attacked him too.”

“Oh, god.” I can’t even picture it. Jake is big, and I’m sure he could do some serious damage, especially with a bat, but his whole persona is so mild. I just can’t imagine him getting that angry.

“Yeah. Put him in the hospital. Thank goodness the guys from the team were there to stop me, or I probably would’ve killed him.”

“What happened after?”

He smiles, but there’s no trace of happiness to it. “Oh, I got arrested. Got charged with aggravated battery. Got convicted and went to jail. I served almost a year before I was let out. Finished school, made amends, and started my life over…” He looks up at me, an apology in his eyes. “…As a convicted felon. It took me a long time to get my plumbing license and my bond so I could work on my own.”

I want to cry for him, for the stupid mistakes he made as a kid. “That’s a very sad story.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His mood changes for the better, his smile looking more heartfelt now. “I met a really cool guy in prison, though. He was there as the chaplain, but he was young and really energetic. He was a former gangbanger who turned his life around. He taught me about the importance of having a good attitude and accepting responsibility for my choices. He saved me. Saved my life, really.”

I’m near tears, so happy for him. “That’s so cool. Where is he now? Still at the prison?”

He shakes his head and stares at the table again. “No, he died. Cancer.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s awful.” I move over closer to Jake on the couch, putting my hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry.”

He looks up at me and smiles a little. “Thanks. He was a great guy. Helped a lot of people like me.”

“Like you?” I search his face and see only a good person there.

“Lost boys. He saved lost boys.”

“Seems like he did the whole world a favor,” I say, hugging Jake.

He hugs me back. “Do I get to stay for dessert or is it time for me to go?”

I slap him lightly on the back of the head. “Don’t piss me off.” Pushing myself out of his arms, I stand and hold my hands out. “Come on. Let’s go make some sundaes.”