The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) (12 page)

Until one night, Carson came to Ricci’s with some friends.  I could tell he recognized me when he did a double-take at the sight of me.  Thank God I wasn’t his waitress.  I tried to avoid him the best I could, but he stopped me on my way to the kitchen just before leaving with his buddies.

“Hey, Zoey,” he called out from behind me. 

My shoulders fell.  He didn’t even remember my name. 

With dirty plates in my hands, I turned to face him, making sure not to look him in the eye. “It’s
Chloe
.”

“Oh, yeah.  Sorry about that.  Um—how are you?”

I sighed, “I’m busy, Carson.” 

“Yeah, okay.  I—uh—I had fun that night.  You know, at the party…when we…”

Oh God.
  “I remember.” 

He smiled, “I just thought maybe we could do it again sometime.” 

The way he said it wasn’t overly aggressive or condescending.  In fact, there was a certain shyness—an insecurity—in his voice that put me at ease and made it feel okay to glance up at him.

I raised an eyebrow, “You mean all two minutes of it?”

His grin turned to a disconcerted scowl. “C’mon, it wasn’t
that
bad.  Was it?”  

“Why,” I squinted. “Do you think it was good?”

His shoulders dropped, “No.  Not in the slightest.  I admit it, okay?  It was not my best performance,” he sighed.  “But I know I can do better.  Let me make it up to you.  Please?”

My head tilted, “Make what up to me?  Finishing so quickly?  Leaving me lay there without a second glance?” I brought my face close to his, challenging him and teasing him all at once, “Forgetting my name?”

“Yes!” he shouted. “All if it!  But mostly the sex!”

His outburst caught the attention of the Ricci’s diners.

“Shh!” I set the plates on an empty table, took him by the elbow, and pulled him down the hall toward the restrooms where I proceeded to scold, “You’re causing a scene!”

“I’m sorry.  Look, when I realized you were a virgin I panicked.  The thing is, I’ve never been someone’s first before.  It was the last thing I expected and I freaked out.  My first instinct was to dodge the situation and that’s what I did.  And yeah, I regret my idiot reaction.” He took a cautious step toward me.  When I didn’t back up, he gently took my chin in his fingers, lifting it so that I met his stare. “Trust me when I say that it’s not like me to finish before the girl.  If you gave me another chance, Chloe, I promise you it would be worth your while.”

As pitiful as it sounds, the only real highlight of my life in the last few months was the look of desire in Carson’s eyes the night of the party.  The way he made me feel wanted…before we had sex.  He had the same look in them now while his fingers brushed against my cheek and combed through my hair.  Something about his need for me—for my body—exhilarated me in a way I hadn’t felt in a very long time, even if the reason behind it was simply to repair his bruised ego.

“We don’t even really know each other, Carson,” I said, seriously considering his proposition, yet still a bit reluctant.  “And I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now.” 

He chuckled slightly, “I’m not promising you a relationship, Chloe.  I’m just promising you a good lay.” 

His blatant honesty made me smile, “Oh, I see.  So you feel bad because you think you traumatized the virgin, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “something like that.  We can’t have you going through life thinking sex is always like that conundrum that I gave to you.”

“No,” I replied. “We wouldn’t want that.  Tell you what.  I get off at eleven.  Meet me here, ready to make it up to me, and I’ll consider doing it again.  But you’re going to have to bring your A-Game this time because I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

He lit up at my proposal. “Oh, it’s on.  It’s
so
on.” 

I shrugged and started toward the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “We’ll see.” 

Throughout the rest of my shift, a nervous anticipation set in.  One that lightened my spirits and brought a smile to my face more times than one. 

Later that night, Carson met me after work as expected.  I momentarily considered taking him to my apartment but decided it would be best if he remained unaware of exactly where I lived.  Instead, we had sex in the cargo area of his aging SUV. 

The sex was better—at least it wasn’t painful this time—but what I loved most was the way he needed me in that moment and the way he appreciated me afterward. 

He hummed as he slid out of me, “Mmm, tell me that was good for you.  ‘Cause damn, girl, it was fucking good for me.” 

I wanted to laugh at how corny that sounded, but I didn’t.  Instead, I pressed my lips to his. 

“Yeah, it was good.  Thank you for that.”  I repeated the words he said to me at the party, the night I gave him my virginity.  His words had replayed in my mind constantly ever since then;
“Uh—thanks for that.  I guess I should probably get back out there.  You know, back to the party.” 

I pulled up my panties and pulled down my skirt while he buttoned his pants.  Once I was fully dressed, I felt the need to leave fast.  He had satisfied me.  I had gotten exactly what I wanted, as did he, and there was nothing else either of us needed here.  “I should probably go.  See you around, Carson.” 

As I climbed over the headrest of the backseat and opened the back door, he asked, “Hey, can I get your number?”

I turned around and smiled, “We both know what this is.  Let’s not ruin it by pretending it’s anything more.  Okay?” 

“Yeah.  Okay,” he nodded, bewildered but in complete agreement.  “Take care, Chloe.” 

I never saw him again after that night.  But I was glad it happened.  Because it made me realize what I needed: to be the eye of a man’s desire for only a few moments.  Anything more would be too much.  Too painful.  Anything less would be too lonely to bear. 

Within the next few years, I took that belief fully to heart, enjoying my brief encounters with various guys whenever I felt alone or insecure.  Which was often.  I tried to choose the ones who were like me—clearly disinterested in relationships—and those guys were usually pretty easy to spot, but every once in a while, I got their motives wrong.  In those cases, when they wanted more than just one-night, when they wanted a girlfriend instead of a quick fuck, I was thankful for my rule of never giving out my number or letting them know where I lived. 

Sex became better and more creative the more I had of it, until there came a point where I needed the sex just as much as I needed to feel wanted by the men who were giving it to me.  It became an addiction.  After a while, though, I grew tired of the revolving door of men and became lazy, spending multiple nights with the same guy.  Unfortunately, the more time I would spend with any given one of them, the more they would want out of me.  More than I was willing or able to offer. 

When I met Logan, it was as if the stars aligned in the sky because he gave me what I needed without ever expecting anything more from me.  What we had was so easy.  The comfort between us had been refreshing. 

The attraction was purely physical, and neither of us ever tried to get to know each other on a more emotionally-intimate level.  We never wanted to.  That was how we both liked it because in some capacity, we knew we’d be incompatible in any other way than sex, and neither of us wanted to ruin the physical companionship we offered to each other. 

Until Liv came around.  He changed after he met her.  And when he rejected me for her, I forced myself to believe that I loved him, which then triggered me to try to get him back.  But it wasn’t love; it was just comfort and familiarity.  Mixed with amazing sex. 

It was just.  So.  Easy. 

When Liv took him away from me—took the arrangement I had with him away from me—something cracked inside.  The thought of having to start all over again with someone different, of having to get my needs met by yet another stranger, pushed me to do uncharacteristic things to try to save what I thought I had.  Things I now regret.

CHAPTER Twenty-Two

~Chloe~

Present Day

I’m not leaving you.  Had to go to work.  I’m a phone call away.

I flipped the note over.

Or text, email, FB message…whatever.

The note was the only remnant of Matt left in my apartment when I woke up the next afternoon.  Part of me felt disappointed that he had already left.  The other part of me welcomed the relief of not having to worry about an uncomfortable ‘morning after’ moment. 

I couldn’t believe I had slept so late.  I hadn’t gotten a night’s (or in this case, day’s) sleep like that in forever.  But then again, Matt had kept me up until dawn, placating my carnal appetite for hours, exquisitely fucking me to the point of exhaustion.  The memories of it continued to flash in my mind.  Images of him in the hallway, on the bed, in the shower.  The expressions on his face.  The taste of his skin.  The heat of his touch.  All of it still fresh.

Usually, I wanted nothing to do with a guy the day after, but with Matt, I found myself simultaneously satiated in the glory of all that happened with him last night, craving more, and worrying that now that he had gotten me out of his system, I’d never see him again. 

I had to find out where he stood.  I couldn’t take not knowing.  I had to reach out to him. 

I took my phone from my handbag and started a text to him because, let’s face it, I’d rather have him reject me by text than hear it from his voice. 

Me:
How did you do it?

Matt:
Do what?

Me:
It.

Matt:
You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, Sunshine.

Me:
Last night.  How did you make it last so long?

Matt:
Oh.  That.  It’s a secret.  I’ll never tell.

Me:
You totally should tell.  Not telling is a disservice to men everywhere.

Matt:
Now I’m really not telling.  Are you trying to make me jealous?

Me:
Don’t fret, Tiger.  There was only one thing on my mind when I woke up today.  And it wasn’t another man.

Matt:
Details.  Need details.

Me:
Let’s just say, I woke up wanting things.  Wanting you.  Instead, I landed my vibrator.

Matt:
Why didn’t you tell me you had one of those things?  Would’ve made things so much more interesting last night. ;)

Me:
Oh!  Burn!  As if they weren’t interesting enough…

Matt: 
Interesting? I can think of another word for it.

Me:
  Fine, mind-blowing.  Same diff.  Let’s do it again.

Matt:
Name the date and time, I’m down.

Me:
I’m off on Tuesday.  How about 4pm?

Matt:
That’s Christmas.

Before I could reply, my phone buzzed with an incoming call.  The screen display said ‘Matt.’

“Hey,” I answered.

“Tell me you have plans for Christmas,” he said, bluntly. 

“Uh—I—I have plans.”

“With people?  Like, family?  Friends?”

“I happen to enjoy a Christmas movie marathon in the comfort of my own home on Christmas.  It’s tradition.  So what?”  I cursed myself for not realizing that Christmas was on Tuesday.

Other than an overly-dramatic sigh from his end, the line went momentarily silent.  Then, he spoke, “Come with me to my parents’ house.”

“What?  No!”

“Why not?”

“Because, Matt, I’m not your girlfriend.  I’m not going to go meet your family.” 

“No, you’re not my girlfriend.  But you are my friend, and friends don’t let friends be alone on Christmas.” 

“Stop it.  I’ll be fine.  I’m not your responsibility,” I said, repeating his words from last night.  “Besides, I like watching movies.  I make Christmas cookies and apple cider with cinnamon sticks and cherry whiskey, and then I enjoy them whilst watching my movies!”

He groaned, “That’s weird, Pink.  Actually…it sounds pretty damn delicious.  Why not drink your whisky
whilst
hanging out with me and my people?  I promise, we’re a lot more fun than a damn TV screen.”

“Your
people
?  Are you some kind of cult leader or something?” I teased.

“Nah, not a cult.  Just a group of decent people.  Listen, my family is laid-back.  They’re not going to make you feel uncomfortable.  I’ll let them know ahead of time that you’re just a friend, and they’ll be cool with it.  You
will not
be alone on Christmas, and I won’t take no for an answer.  I’ll pick you up at two.  Be ready.” 

With that, he ended the call, dead silence on the line as he hung up without a ‘goodbye.’

I held my phone out in front of me as if looking at it would clear up the disoriented state Matt had just left me in.

What the hell just happened?

A moment later, my phone buzzed with a notably bossy incoming text from him.

Matt:
Don’t forget to bring your whiskey cider.

~~~

As the afternoon went on, I thought more about the prior evening.  I thought about how it ended so perfectly and how it started so horribly.  After showering and eating, I found myself sitting at my tiny dining area table, glaring a hole through my handbag.  The handbag which I now remembered carried a certain marriage proposal “menu.”

Matt made me forget all about it, but now that he had been gone for a while, his calming effect was wearing off.  I tried to push the image of Ryan’s surprised face and my sister’s look of horror in Luciano’s VIP room last night out of my mind.  I wanted to pretend I was over it and that they couldn’t affect me this way anymore, but I was failing terribly. 

Eventually, I reached into my handbag to take out the menu.  I definitely had to give Ryan credit for presentation.  The black 8x5 padded faux-leather, double-pocket cover with gold-clasped corners, was quite the fancy touch.  The words “Lifetime of Happiness Menu” had even been embossed onto the front in gold script. 

I breathed in some strength before opening it, then began to read the words that I knew would shatter me.

Love

I never knew what love was until I met you, Brynn.  You showed me how deeply love can burn, and you’ve made me a better, stronger man so that I can be worthy of yours.  I have no idea how I’ll ever repay you for that.  But I promise I’ll find a way, every day, if you’ll let me.

Commitment

I fell for you hard, and fast, like a flash-fire that neither of us ever saw coming.  I love the passion we have and even though I can’t imagine there will ever be a time that you wouldn’t light a blaze inside of me, I know that fires can die out.  I promise I’ll never let that happen with us.  For us, the passion that drove us together happened without a single thought.

But
staying
in love is a
choice
.

Keeping
that passion is a
choice.

You’re what I want.

You’re what I need.

I
choose
to
stay
in love with you, and keep the passion alive with you, always and forever.

Communication

I know this is not my strong point.  I tend to shut down when issues come up.  But I’m trying to be more open, and I know that the more I try, the better I’ll get at it.  Because you deserve someone who is open with you about everything.  And that’s the kind of man I want to be. 

So let today be the start. 

Something I’ve never told you is that the very second that I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.  And after we found each other again, I knew I was screwed because of our situation, but I had to try.  And no matter how difficult it was, I’ll never regret the jagged road we had to take to be together.  Because you have made me happier in these last three years than I ever knew could be possible.

Time

You
are the
most
important thing to me, Brynn.  And you
always
will be. 

Our lives sometimes have hectic moments.  But I love that we can be independent and follow our own dreams while at the end of the day, we are there for each other.  In fact, my favorite part of the day is at the end of it, when we listen to each other and talk about our lives and our future. 

We make time for each other, and that is part of what makes our relationship so strong.  I want to continue to follow the path to our dreams alongside you.  And to do that without taking a wrong turn, or suddenly finding ourselves on separate trails, I have to understand your needs.  And to understand your needs as they change and grow, I promise to make time every single day to learn them.

Selflessness

Before you came along, I looked out for me.  I had no desire to ever put another person’s needs above my own.  I didn’t think that was something that people actually did. 

But with you, it’s easy.

When you’re happy, I’m ecstatic.  When you smile, I feel alive.  And when you’re stressed or overwhelmed, I want to lessen the burden you carry. 

Just like you do for me. 

You do so much to make
my
life better and you’d think that the reason I’d want to enhance yours is to return the favor. 

But it isn’t.

I just want you to shine for the simple reason that you deserve it.  And I will do whatever it takes to make you smile every day.

Forever

Marry Me, Brynn.

Let me love you forever.

Fuck.  My.  Life.

The menu shook in my trembling hands just before it dropped out of my fingers and onto the table.  It felt wrong peeking into the inner depths of their relationship this way.  It felt immoral to have it in my possession when it was meant for my sister. 

But then I inwardly kicked myself for feeling guilty over it when they were the ones who should feel guilty.

In any case, I couldn’t deny the fact that the words on the menu sounded a hell of a lot like real love.  The kind of love that’s more than what you see in the movies or read in books.  The kind that’s imperfect and substantial.  The kind that takes hard work.  And he felt it for
her.
  All because she had allowed him to be present in her life.  All because she had abandoned me…for him.

It sounded like Brynn’s letting me go was worth it.  At least in her mind it probably was.  Maybe she even thought that cutting me loose was the best thing she ever did.

As much what they did to me still hurt, a tiny voice inside urged me to consider taking a step toward accepting it.  The reality was that my heart had already been shattered long ago to pieces so tiny they could be damaged no further. 

Maybe it had been crushed for so long that it was finally ready to be pieced back together.  I’d probably never fully understand or approve of the actions my sister and Ryan took against me, but maybe, at the very least, I could try to let it go. 

Try to let
them
go.

~Matt~

Present Day

Logan being holed-up in his apartment for the last week, moping about losing Liv, meant his presence in the shop had exceedingly diminished.  In turn, his uncle took time away from the office to help out in the garage.  Normally, the shop was empty when I came in on Sundays to work on the "old man’s" classic cars, but Craig had come in to catch up on some overdue office work today, keeping busy shuffling papers and looking at his computer behind the windows that overlooked the shop.

I had already checked the spark plugs and changed the fuel pump and filter, but this damn ’67 Shelby GT500 Fastback kept dying out anytime I’d shift it to drive or reverse.  I’m not sure if it was the lack of sleep that made me unable to think straight enough to figure out the problem, or if it was the savory flashbacks of Chloe’s naked body pressing against mine—or the fact that being here in the shop reminded me that my friend was in a situation caused by the woman I spent last night with...the woman I couldn’t seem to shake out of my head.