Sweet Imperfection (6 page)

“That would be amazing, but please, don’t feel obligated. You must be really busy.”

“The good thing about working for yourself is you can pick your projects, shuffle things around. I recently finished a huge order, so I have a little time to play with.”

“Tell me more about your business. How did you get into woodworking?”

“The luckiest break of my life. I was walking down 6th one day, leaving a horrible temp job at some ad agency—no offense.” He glanced at her and she shrugged. She happened to love advertising, and her firm was very progressive, but it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

“None taken.”

“And this little old man was struggling to get a massive block of wood off the back of a pickup truck. I mean, it was practically as big as he was, so I stopped to help him. He was swearing a blue streak about some kid who didn’t show up for work. That’s how I met Charlie. He’s eighty years old, looks like a feather would knock him over, but what the man can do with a piece of wood is genius. We took the block inside, and the minute I saw his studio, I was hooked. The tools, the smells. The chairs and tables were so gorgeous they looked like pieces of art. He tried to pay me for helping him, but I told him what I really wanted was to learn. I went back the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, and eventually he let me do more than sweep up wood shavings. It was an apprenticeship in every sense of the word. I learned about a million new things every day, and I had never been happier. He cut me loose about six months ago, and it’s been easier than I thought going out for myself. Of course, I’m not as much of an artist as Charlie, but I think I’ve found my calling if you believe in such a thing.”

“I do.” Emma delighted in the light in Nate’s eyes as he spoke about his work. His passion turned her on in more ways than one. It was exhilarating and a bit frightening how much she connected with him.

“So, as you can see, I’d be more than happy to check out your brownstone. Call it professional curiosity.”

She was about to thank him when a little boy ran up to Nate and held out a plastic disc. “Want to throw the Frisbee?” he asked.

“Ethan!” Brooke appeared a moment later, looking somewhat out of breath, but still immaculately turned out, her barely there baby bump showcased in a fashionable maxi maternity dress.

“Sure, big guy.” Nate stood, and Ethan, who couldn’t have been more than three, expertly shot him the disc.

“Hi, Nate. Don’t let Ethan bother you,” Brooke said. “My husband had to step away to take a business call, so I’ve been chasing this guy all over the hill.”

“It’s no bother,” Nate said. He cheered when Ethan caught the disc in midair.

“He’s a natural,” Emma commented.

“He’ll be on Weston’s Ultimate Frisbee team in about fifteen years or so,” Nate agreed.

Emma watched Nate and the boy playing and couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“He’s adorable,” Brooke said, catching Emma’s attention.

“Yeah, you have one cute kid there, Brooke.”

“I meant Nate. You haven’t stopped staring at him. What’s going on? You look super happy.”

“I do? I mean, thanks?” Brooke’s words flustered Emma.

“Didn’t I see you eating breakfast together at the campus center this morning? What’s up?”

Emma debated telling her freshman roommate to mind her own business, but Brooke was harmless. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together this weekend. We’re both here alone, and it’s been fun to catch up.”

“Well, the way you’ve been looking at each other, it seems like you’ve definitely caught up and are moving right into the next phase.”

“You think?” Emma hated that she was blushing, but she supposed it made sense Brooke would be able to pick up on the signals she was throwing out. Her feelings—lust and all—were too strong to keep inside.

“I always liked Nate. The haircut is a huge improvement. Did you hear his ex-girlfriend Kate is gay?” And with that, Emma was relieved to let Brooke steer the conversation toward reunion news and away from her churning emotions.

***

“How can you possibly be hungry again? We just had pizza,” Emma said as Nate dragged her into an ice cream store a few blocks from campus.

“That was dinner; this is dessert,” he explained. “What’s your pleasure?”

He watched her examine the case of flavors. She looked young and pretty in her aquamarine sundress and thin white sweater. Not like an insatiable sex fiend, that hidden side of her that had miraculously been revealed to him. The sundress was rumpled from when he’d bunched it up in his fists and out of the way so he could fuck her on the third floor of the library that afternoon. They’d escaped an exceptionally boring art history seminar, and somehow they’d found themselves making out in the stacks. They’d ravaged each other’s mouths like teenagers until the need to have her gorgeous pussy clamped around his cock grew so urgent he’d nearly wept with relief when she’d pulled him toward the unisex bathroom. He’d never been excited by the concept of bathroom sex before, but with Emma involved, it was hot.

She
was hot. Everything about her turned him on. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, and when his mind strayed back to the unforgettable image of her on her knees sucking him off in the shower that morning, which it had every few minutes like clockwork, he’d easily felt like the luckiest guy in Massachusetts. Maybe the entire Eastern seaboard.

They’d had fun together, going to the various campus events, meeting up with a few old friends at the picnic lunch. Having a quickie in the library.
Damn
. Was it nostalgia, or was there something real between them? He wanted to believe they could keep this chemistry going, but initial sparks didn’t always mean a couple was destined for the long haul. They had to take it one step at a time. Right now, that step involved ice cream and getting her back into bed as soon as possible.

Cones in hand, they climbed back up the hill toward the dorms. The sky was full-on dark, and the oppressive humidity of the day was turning into threatening rain. The first drops started to fall as they neared the green. A huge white tent had been set up, and “Billie Jean” was blaring from the speakers. Streams of people headed in and out—mostly in—due to the rain.

“The all-school dance. Let’s go check it out.”

Emma pulled him toward the noise, and he laughed in sheer happiness. Rain, ice cream, and a beautiful girl who wanted to dance with him.

Inside the tent, swarms of people of all ages were getting their groove on while disco balls threw colorful lights around the otherwise unprepossessing space. Emma finished the last of her cone and pulled him deep into the center of the action. They rocked out for a while to the mostly nostalgic dance music, Nate remembering how much fun it could be to let go and make a fool of himself to a beat. Emma was game, smiling and jumping up and down, her moves naturally seductive as she wiggled her hips in time to the music.

Half the crowd groaned, and the other half cheered when “I’ll Make Love to You”—the classic Boyz II Men jam—came on. Emma giggled and wrapped her arms around Nate’s shoulders, old school, slow-dance style.

He drew her in close, not caring about anything except how good she felt in his arms. “Wow,” he said, “This has been an awesome day, Emma.”

“For me, too,” she whispered. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and they swayed together to the music.

Emma’s nerves prickled with a mixture of pleasure and trepidation. Nate was the kindest, most fun, most attractive, sexiest guy she’d been with in…maybe forever. She wanted to take this weekend fling to the next level when life returned to normal after the magical reunion weekend was over. But his words from the night before, the terrible story he’d told her about his ex-wife, made her realize if they were going to have a future together, she’d have to tell him something that might make being together impossible. And she’d waited long enough. If she told him, and things didn’t work out, she wanted to end it before she fell more deeply in love with him than she already had.

When the slow dance ended, and an old Madonna song had the crowd singing along, Emma looked into Nate’s piercing blue eyes. “Can we go somewhere a little quieter? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” he said, taking her hand. When they reached the entrance of the tent, they saw the sprinkles had turned into a downpour. “Hmm, want to make a run for it?”

Emma looked around and gestured to an empty table just inside the tent. Maybe it would be easier, less intimate, if they stayed near people. She sat down, steeling herself with a calming breath.

“I wanted to say what a good time I’ve been having with you.”

“Me, too,” he said immediately.

“And I hope we can see each other when we’re back home.”

“Absolutely.”

“I wanted to tell you something so we’re completely honest with each other.” Emma struggled to look him in the eye as she spoke. She hadn’t shared what she was about to tell him with many people. It was harder than she thought to talk about. “I was so touched that you told me what had happened between you and your ex-wife last night. I know how you feel. But I also know how she felt, maybe, a little bit.”

Nate looked confused.

“I had an abortion. About five years ago. I was in a bad relationship. After I finally broke things off with him, I found out I was pregnant. I’d never been pregnant before. All I’ve wanted since I was a kid was to get married and have a baby, but I couldn’t face having a child with a man I couldn’t stand, and I was working all the time and…well, I had plenty of reasons. So I did it, and I don’t regret it, but I miss that baby every day, even if it was barely here. So I wanted you to know that about me.”

She tried to gauge his reaction, but his eyes were shuttered.

“Did you tell the guy about it?”

She swallowed. “No. I didn’t want to get in touch with him. It was easier—”

“Oh.” Nate stood up and stepped away from her; Emma felt the gap widening between them as if he’d physically pushed her away. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

She rose out of her chair, and he stepped back again. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s something I thought you should know if we’re going to keep seeing each other.”

“I-I have to think about this.”

He might be saying he needed to think, but his body language yelled, “This is over.” Emma felt her eyes fill with tears and willed herself not to cry. “Nate—”

“You’re like her, making decisions for other people, lying.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” she said, trying desperately to stay calm even as the censure in his tone hit her like a punch to the gut.

“Whatever. Two people made that baby; the father should at least have known it existed. Just because it didn’t work out between you, just because it was
easier
…. I didn’t realize you were so selfish.” He shook his head, and Emma was torn between empathy, as he was still plainly hurting from what his ex-wife put him through, and ire at his black-and-white view.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have something growing inside you that you both want and can’t have. I still think about it all the time—”

“You’re right. I don’t know, but I know I can’t be around you right now.” He turned and disappeared into the rain.

When Emma could no longer hold back her sobs, she started the slog back to her little-used dorm room, more than the rain chilling her to the core. The chirp of her phone gave her a hint of hope. Maybe Nate was calling to apologize. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she would accept an apology. A different name read on the screen. She ducked into a doorway to protect herself and the phone from the rain.

“Hi, Mom.” She didn’t bother trying to hide her tears; her mother always knew when something was wrong anyway.

“Beautiful girl, what’s wrong? Is it too late to call?” The lightly French-accented voice of Juliette Delvaux came on the line, instantly transporting Emma to a warm and loving place and making her feel better even though she was three thousand miles away from the comfort of her mother’s arms.

“I’m fine. I’m at the reunion. It’s raining.”

“What happened?”

“Just another stupid boy.” Emma sighed, her desire to cry stemmed when she realized that, yes, Nate was yet another stupid boy in a long line of them. She’d been fooling herself again, thinking he was different, that they were starting to mean something to each other. The saying
once burned, twice shy
didn’t apply to her. She’d been burned too many times to count, and she still held out that girlish hope of finding the perfect guy. Well, Nate Hirsch wasn’t him. Even if he seemed to fit her to a tee, he’d proved he wasn’t up for a real relationship with her. So that was that.

“Oh, Emma, I’m sorry,” Juliette said. She’d held her daughter’s hand through plenty of breakups. Emma couldn’t keep giving her the opportunity to do it.

She wiped her eyes dry. “It’s really fine. The reunion has actually been pretty fun on the whole. It’s been nice to see old friends.”

“I want to hear all about it when I see you.”

“I can’t meet your plane, but I can send a car for you,” Emma said. Her mother’s quarterly visit was coming on Friday, and she experienced a sudden and deep wave of homesickness for her.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take a cab. It’s easier, and I’ve made dinner reservations at that bistro we like near your office.”

“Lovely, thanks, Mom. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Your father and I love you. Don’t forget you’re my strong, smart, beautiful girl.
Bisous
.”

“
Bisous
,” Emma said, then turned off her phone. She didn’t want any more calls tonight.

Her initial heartache at Nate’s extreme reaction to her story had turned into something of a temper by the time she reached her building. The hallway outside her room was littered with empty red cups and a few stray Ping-pong balls. Everything stank of beer and cigarettes.

“Ugh. Slobs.”

She wanted to grab the nearest trashcan and start cleaning up, but instead she kicked a cup out of her way and stomped to her room. She was wet and cold, and she needed a hot shower. She wouldn’t think of what had gone down during the last shower she’d taken. She wouldn’t think of it because she didn’t want to think about Nate and how his eyes crinkled when he laughed and how unselfconscious he was about holding her hand in public and how she’d—evidently prematurely—started imagining chubby dark-haired babies with almond-shaped blue eyes. He’d been judgmental and hurtful. She should probably cut him some slack, considering his history with his ex, but she was mad he hadn’t had the decency to appreciate what she’d gone through herself and how hard it had been for her to share that with him.