Playing It Safe (20 page)

Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? Well that’s exactly what it feels like when Aiden drops this little nugget of information on my lap. Actually, it feels worse. More like someone punched me in the gut and then kicked me in the heart for good measure.

“Look,” he says in a soft voice, “I just thought you should know. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Again,” I say through clenched teeth.

He lets go of my arm and nods his head in silent agreement.

“I’m sorry, Julia,” he says quietly and opens the door to my office, leaving me standing at the threshold in absolute shock.

I walk back to my desk and plop my ass down in the chair in a daze.
Think, Julia, think
. Shit, I
can’t
think, at least not clearly after what I just found out. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to believe Aiden. When I replay his visit in my mind, it’s almost a bit too contrite. Like he was really playing up the apology angle and I just fell for it hook, line, and sinker. But … what does he have to gain from telling me any of it, apology included? Nothing.

On the other side of the fence is Alex, who has told me very little about Marisa but enough that I was convinced there was nothing going on there. Am I simply blind to what has been right in front of me all along? Or is he really telling me all there is to know about his relationship with her?

Okay, I need to get a grip and figure this all out later. I take a few calming breaths before I lose my mind and start throwing shit from my desk. Next, I pick up the stress ball and start going to town on it, hoping that it does exactly what it’s supposed to do. A short while later, I’m still massaging it while I’m reviewing the guest list for Josie’s party that Alex e-mailed me this morning when what do my wandering eyes stumble upon?

Marisa’s name, clear as day on the guest list.

What the hell?

Okay, I’m not going to panic. At least that’s what I try and tell myself while I’m having a full-on freak-out. The massage ball bursts in my hands, and the granulated sand within it goes flying everywhere. I mean everywhere. Down my blouse and in my bra, in my hair, and worst of all, in my eyes.

“Shit!” I yell because of the burning sensation in my eyes. “I’m blind!”

I hear my office door swing open, and Lisette’s familiar voice shouts in alarm, “What happened?”

“I can’t see anything because this thing just exploded in my face!” I shout back at her.

The sound of her footsteps rushing over to the right side of my desk makes me turn my head in that direction and try to open my eyes again.

“Lisette, can you help me walk to the bathroom so I can wash my eyes out?”

“Of course. Come on.”

She grabs hold of my wrist and takes the destroyed stress reliever ball out of my hand before helping me stand up. While my eyes feel like they are being stabbed by a million tiny razor blades and I’m cursing up a storm, I let Lisette lead me to the ladies’ restroom.

Once inside, she turns on the faucet and helps me duck my head underneath the running cool water so I can rinse out each eye thoroughly. It takes a while, but finally I’m able to open my eyes and see again, albeit with some discomfort.

I pick my head up and look at myself in the mirror to find a rabid raccoon with red, half-closed eyes and mascara running down its cheeks staring back at me. My eyes are still sore when Lisette hands me a few damp hand towels and instructs me to keep them on my eyes to relieve the puffiness.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?” she asks soothingly.

“I told you, that stupid stress ball thing busted open and exploded everywhere.”

“Obviously,” Lisette says, “but that’s not what I’m asking you.”

“I just got upset at something and didn’t realize I was squeezing it as hard as I was,” I answer quickly. Too quickly because it’s apparent to me that I sound like I’m trying not to be affected by everything I’ve found out today.

“And what got you so upset?”

“It’s not important.”

“Julia, I’ve known you for a long time. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, so you better start talking,” she warns in a light tone.

“Fine,” I say, my voice low and uneasy. “Do you remember that Marisa chick?” She nods. “Well, her name is on the guest list for Josie’s party, and I kind of freaked because I didn’t expect to see her name. Like at all.”

“Why don’t you just ask Alex about it?”

I bring down the damp hand towels from my eyes and sigh out loud. “I don’t know about that.”

“Do you think he’s seeing her on the side or something?” she says curiously.

Thinking back to what intel I’ve found out about Marisa from Josie, Alex, and now Aiden, I have to assume that there is definitely something rotten in Denmark, but I’m not going to go into too much detail with Lisette about it. Especially the Aiden part because if she finds out he has a part to play in this, I’ll never hear the end of it.

“I can’t say for sure,” I say, my eyes still stinging. “It’s only been a week that we’ve been together, so I really shouldn’t assume anything, and at the same time I don’t want to come across as a jealous bitch, you know?”

Her ruby-red lips, which I can make out semi-clearly through my pain-filled eyes, quirk upward as if she’s trying not to laugh. Then her shoulders start to shake. Then she’s full-on laughing as if this is all funny.

“Do you mind telling me what’s so goddamn funny?” I ask her impatiently.

“Julia, it’s too late. You’re already a jealous bitch,” she says through her laughter.

Um, she might be right that I’m a tad jealous of Marisa. It’s a knee-jerk, territorial reaction kind of thing. But that doesn’t mean I want Alex to see this side of me.

“Shut it, Lisette,” I say under my breath. “You’re not helping.”

She clears her throat and puts both her hands on her hips in a defiant stance. “Julia, I’ve known you for a very long time, and I can honestly say that in all that time, I have never,
ever
, seen you all worked up over a guy.”

“And what’s your point?”

“
¡Dios mío,
Julia! Seriously?” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. “You are so into him that it scares the living crap out of you. And I get it, I really do, but you need to let that go, live for today and stop being so afraid. From everything I’ve seen, Alex feels the same way, so cut the bitch act and talk to him about it. There’s probably a damn good reason for Marisa to be invited, but you’ll never know what that reason is unless you ask him.”

I start to dab my eyes again in an effort to absorb what Lisette said in all its glory. God, I hate it when she’s right. Actually, I hate being wrong period, but admitting it out loud is even more painful. Worse than that is that I don’t know if I can take one more crushing disappointment at this point in my life. And I know it will crush me, so that’s why I’m being extra cautious.

“Say something,” Lisette says in a rush. “Tell me to go to hell or to mind my own business, but at least say something, because you’re kind of freaking me out now.”

“You’re right.”

She tilts her head, and then her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What did you just say?”

I clear my throat and mumble under my breath, “I said, you’re right.”

“Is it the apocalypse?” Lisette asks and then crosses herself before plucking the cross charm attached to her necklace out of her cleavage and giving it a kiss. “Did you actually agree with me on this?”

“Yup.”

I drop the damp towels from my eyes again and peer at her as she quietly looks on with a beaming smile on her face. “Don’t gloat, it’s not attractive.”

“Oh, I’m going to gloat, so get over yourself.” She clasps her hands behind her back while staring at me with a pleased look on her face for a few seconds and then exhales loudly and says, “Okay, I’m done gloating. Go ahead, start talking.”

“It’s only been a week, Lisette. A week full of a lot of hot and crazy sex and pillow talk. And I’m not complaining because, well, you know.” She winks in understanding. “Anyway, we’re in this nice and cozy little bubble that I don’t want to burst yet.”

“Burst how?”

“I mean everything is perfect right now as is. I don’t want to rock the boat and start digging up shit that could potentially ruin everything.” As an afterthought I add, “Plus, who’s to say there isn’t anything more to us than sex?”

I know Alex has told me we are more than fuck buddies, but still … there’s a possibility that that’s all there is. One that I’ve had in the back of my mind regardless of his repeated attempts to pacify my concerns.

See what years of craptastic dating can do to your psyche?

“It’s definitely more than sex, Julia,” Lisette calmly says. “The way that man looks at you … trust me, it’s more than that, so you need to get that thought right out of your head.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Stop doing that,” she says, her voice going flat.

“What?”

“That. Where you compare every guy to Aiden. It’s not fair to Alex. You need to give him a chance to explain this
and
give him a chance period.”

“I hate it when you’re right, you know that?”

Her mouth curls into a delighted grin. “I know you do. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

She gives me her elbow so I can loop my arm through, and she guides me back to my office, where she helps me clean up the mess left from the stress ball explosion. After she leaves me alone, and after another reminder that I need to give Alex a chance to explain, I shoot off a quick text to him.

Dinner at my place tonight?

He answers back right away.

Absolutely. What time?

7:00 p.m.

He agrees with a return text, and it literally takes all of me from responding with a litany of questions, the first of which would be something like:
“What the fuck is going on with you and Marisa?”
But cooler heads prevail, and I decide to wait until later tonight to dig into Alex’s past so I can decide what the truth really is.

CHAPTER TWENTY
-
THREE

A
s soon as I get home, I change into my comfy clothes, which consist of distressed fitted jeans with a black tank top, and start to work on dinner. I have to stop myself from taking off my bra, since that’s usually the very first thing I do when I walk through the door. What woman doesn’t after a full day of having those suckers strapped in? But I figure we’re not that comfortable in our relationship where I can walk around braless in a T-shirt yet. Here’s to hoping though.

I’m in the midst of popping the tilapia filets in the oven when the doorbell rings. I turn down the volume on the iPod that is currently blaring Elvis Costello’s “Everyday I Write the Book,” before opening the door. If it wasn’t for me holding the door handle and it effectively helping me to keep my balance, I may have literally swooned at what I see before me: Alex, wearing a backward baseball hat, a white V-neck T-shirt, black athletic shorts, and sneakers.

Now, you all should remember how I mentioned that I have two weaknesses when it comes to men. One being a man’s forearms. But the other and far more potent form of kryptonite is a good-looking man wearing a backward baseball hat. I can’t even fully explain or rationalize the how and why of it. It just is. So when I see Alex standing before me wearing a red one with the tips of his mussed-up hair poking out of it, I temporarily forget that I’m supposed to be having a serious conversation with him tonight about Miss Teen USA because all I can do is stare.

“Can I come in?” he asks with a good-natured chuckle after a few seconds of me staring without saying a word.

“Why do you look like that?”

“I went for a run right after work and then came straight here.” He steps into the foyer while I’m still standing in the same exact spot. “Is it okay if I use your shower to wash up before dinner? I promise I’ll be really fast.”

He presses a light kiss to my lips and drops his overnight bag on the floor. “Sure, go ahead. Dinner should be ready in about ten, fifteen minutes tops.”

His dimpled smile is the last thing I need to tack on to the visual ambrosia I’m still feasting on as he starts to walk toward my bathroom.

“Alex,” I call out to him. And yes, I’m still holding the freaking door open and letting a crapload of mosquitoes in the house. I can’t help it; I’m a goner right now. I point at the hat on his head and ask, “Do you normally wear those?”

Shrugging his shoulders while still smiling, he answers, “I usually do when I’m working out. Why?”

“No reason. Just curious is all,” I say, trying to sound dismissive.

He’s about to start heading down the hallway when he stops and looks back at me with a confused look on his face. “Julia, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re still holding the door wide open and looking at me like I grew two heads, that’s why.”

“Oh shit,” I mumble under my breath and close it finally. I hear his laugh floating down the hallway until it disappears behind the bathroom door.

The smell of the food in the kitchen that I still need to tend to breaks me out of my trance. Just barely though. I get my bearings long enough to traipse back in there and get back to work, all the while envisioning Alex wearing that hat. Lord help me, it may be my undoing, which sucks because I need to focus and be able to have this conversation with him. I promised Lisette I’d do it, and knowing her, she’ll be in my office first thing in the morning to make sure I did.

Okay, I need to cut the shit. I start prepping the plates and silverware on the kitchen table. When I turn back around to open the oven, I hear the shower being turned off, signaling to me that Alex will be back out here momentarily.

“That smells delicious,” I hear him say behind me a minute later. “What did you make?”
I pivot my torso while talking. “Baked tilapia in garlic butter sauce with …”

My mouth is probably still moving, but I have no clue as to what is coming out of it since I’m staring at a very scrumptious Alex still a little wet from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning against the wall. Were it not for the fact that I know this is Alex, I would have thought Sawyer from
Lost
was standing right in front of me. As a matter of fact, there is an episode of
Lost
—season one, episode twelve, called “Whatever the Case May Be,” and yes, I’m an über
Lost
geek—where Sawyer goes swimming, and when he comes out of the quarry he looks so incredibly delicious. That is
exactly
what Alex looks like right now.

I’m watching a rivulet of water roll down his chest when I hear Alex say my name, which breaks me out of my fantasy of skinny-dipping in a quarry with Sawyer. Oops, I mean Alex.

“Dude, you have got to be shitting me right now.”

“Did you just call me
dude
?”

I motion my hand toward him up and down as I say, “I did, because have you seen yourself? First the hat and now this?”

Alex bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I had to come out here to get my bag that I left by the door.”

“Well go and get it before I start calling you Sawyer and make you call me Freckles.”

“Who are those people?” he asks in an amused voice.

“It’s not important right now,” I answer quickly. “Just please, for the love of everything that is holy,
please
put some clothes on.”

Now he’s stalking toward me with a devilish smirk on his face. When he closes the distance between us, he pulls the oven mitts off of my hands and places them on the counter. Next he hooks his hands loosely around my neck while his thumbs are softly rubbing up and down against my pulse, which is probably beating erratically right now.

“You have a thing for hats, huh?” Alex asks while still grinning.

“You could say that.”

Using his thumbs for leverage, he tilts my face up and brushes his lips against mine, so feather-soft that it barely registers, but it’s enough that I know if it keeps up we’ll be forgetting about dinner.

“Alex?”

“Julia?”

I smile against his mouth and open my eyes to find his blue ones sweetly staring back at me.

His voice full of concern, he asks, “Why are your eyes so red? Did something upset you?”

With a small sigh, I grab hold of his wrists. “No, nothing like that. It’s really stupid, actually, and you’re going to laugh when I tell you about it during dinner.” I inch up on my toes and kiss him lightly again before I add, “Speaking of which, go on and get dressed so I can finish up in here and we can finally eat.”

“That’s right, before you call me … what was the name again?” he playfully asks.

“Sawyer,” I mumble under my breath.

“Right. I guess I have some competition.”

“Um, he’s a character on my favorite TV show, so you’re pretty safe.”

His eyebrows knit together as he asks, “Which show?”

“
Lost
.”

“I never watched it,” he admits.

“Well that’s something we’ll have to remedy if you’re going to be sticking around.”

Alex’s eyes light up, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact he’ll be watching the greatest TV show of all time—which it is, and that is the beginning and end of any debate, thank you very much—but more with the fact that I’ve alluded to him, to us, in the future, kind of.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he replies with a sexy grin.

He kisses me one last time before heading into the foyer to pick up his overnight bag. All the while I’m craning my neck and gawking at his muscular back until he catches me and shakes his head in mocking disapproval. Once he’s completely out of sight, I pick up the oven mitts he tossed onto the counter and quickly fan myself. I swear, he’s going to be the death of me.

By the time he comes back into the kitchen fully dressed in jeans and a plain old black T-shirt, I’m already setting the last dish of roasted vegetables on the table. Alex sits down and starts to fill my wineglass from the chilled bottle of pinot grigio I have on the table and then looks up at me as I go to sit across from him.

“This really does smell delicious, Julia. I had no idea you could cook,” he says while now pouring his own glass of wine.

A perfect segue. Really, I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried.

I smile, genuinely happy that I could surprise him, and as I’m serving him his food I reply, “Well, I’m sure there are a lot of things we don’t know about each other yet.” He looks on curiously as I keep on talking. “But to answer your question, I’m not that much of a cook. I know how to make some dishes and can probably cook the shit out of a steak, but that’s about it.”

He takes his first forkful, and I wait to see his reaction. “I beg to differ.” He stops and wipes his mouth with the napkin. “This is absolutely delicious, but I’m going to have to take you up on that steak sometime too.” He sets his fork down to grab his wineglass and takes a sip before talking again. “So what’s this about us not knowing a lot about each other? Are you referring again to outside-of-work Alex?”

“Kind of,” I say matter-of-factly. “I mean, we know each other in the physical sense pretty damn well, but I think it’s time we got to know each other a little more in other ways, don’t you think?”

“I agree,” he answers with a forkful of food perched in front of his mouth. “You can start by telling me why your eyes are so red.”

“Funny you should mention that, because my eyes being so red has to do with you sort of.” Alex’s eyebrows shoot up in response before I tack on the rest of it, leaving out Aiden’s visit. “See, I was in my office massaging my stress ball while looking over the guest list you sent me for Josie’s party.”

“And?”

“Well, I came across one name that kind of surprised me. Marisa.”

“And how does her name have anything to do with your eyes being red?” he asks in a low voice.

“I must have been squeezing the ball too hard when I came across her name, so it exploded all over me and some of the sand got in my eyes.”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes are apologetic and concerned. “I should have told you about it sooner.”

I remember what Lisette told me earlier today—give him a chance to explain and not jump to any conclusions. That is exactly what I intend to do when I say to him, “No better time than the present.”

“It’s complicated.”

Ugh, I don’t like the sound of that, and I’m already wondering if Aiden was right. I half smile, and in between sips of my wine I say, “Just start at the beginning.”

“Our parents have been friends for a long time and are very close. So growing up, Vanessa and I were around Marisa and her big sister quite often.” He smiles then, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Marisa is about eight years younger than the rest of us, and as we got older it was Vanessa, myself, and Marisa’s sister, Katerina, who were
always
together. We were inseparable.”

I’m not sure where this is heading, but I can tell that wherever it ends up I’m not going to like it one way or the other. Regardless of that, I smile and nod to let him know he can keep talking.

“Vanessa eventually went away to college, leaving Katerina and me behind. We became even closer, and things started to change between us.” Alex looks up at me then, his expression hesitant. “By the time we started high school together, we were officially a couple and started to make plans for our future. When we decided to go to different colleges, it was difficult, but we made it work. I would visit her as often as I could and vice versa, but it put a slight strain on our relationship that neither of us really wanted to admit to.”

“You loved her,” I say to him softly.

“I did,” he admits with an exhale of breath. “Looking back on it now, the fact that we had been together so long and shared so much at such a young age bonded us, and we didn’t want to let each other go.”

“You were both afraid to move on. I get it.”

I can tell he’s reliving a terrible memory. All I want is to crawl up in his lap and comfort him. And I can honestly say that I have never felt the need to want to do that with any man before him. It’s a terrifying feeling for me, but instead of acting on it, I sit still and steeple my fingers underneath my chin so that I’m not tempted.

“During my final year of college, she came to visit me. Things were rocky then, to say the least, and we argued off and on that last day. It got to the point that things were said that couldn’t be taken back or unheard … and so she left.”

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

I can tell he’s struggling to say the next words by the way his fingers clench together into tight fists. “I’m sorry too, because if I had gone after her instead of waiting for her to come back to me, she would still be alive today.”

I gasp out loud because that is the very last thing I expect to hear. “Oh my God, how did she—”

“I don’t know all the details other than she lost control of her car and slammed into a guardrail over an embankment. The only thing I do know is that she didn’t suffer and died instantly.”

My eyes tear up because of the pain I see in his, and more than anything, the obvious guilt he still feels over losing Katerina. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like, and it makes my so-called sob story of being jilted by Aiden all those years ago seem like a cakewalk.

He smiles in an effort to lighten the heavy mood in the air, but it’s forced. Both of us have long forgotten about eating at this point. Alex unclenches his fist and then reaches for his wineglass and takes a sip. When he sets it back down on the table, he clears his throat before filling in the rest of the gaps, namely Marisa’s place in all of this.

“That was eleven years ago, and it took a while for me to move on, but I did. Marisa, on the other hand, as well as her parents, never has.” His index finger starts to trace the rim of the wineglass before leaning back in his chair. “Marisa was fourteen years old when Katerina died, which is a very difficult age to lose someone you care so much about. But I think what has made it worse for her over the years is the fact that their parents idolized Katerina and put her on a pedestal as if she could do no wrong. As a result, Marisa has been living the last few years of her life in a shadow.”