I pushed to my feet, moved through the dark to the window, and did this while talking.
“Honey, I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?” he prompted when I said no more.
I pulled my curtains aside and looked at my not-so-spectacular view of the parking lot. They broke ground on my new house in one of Gnaw Bone’s land magnate, Curtis Dodd’s, developments only four days ago. In the meantime I was living in an apartment facing away from the mountains, with a view of nothing but cars, asphalt, and storage units.
In my new three-bedroom, two-and-half-bath house, I would have panoramas of the Colorado Rockies all around in a development that the HOA decreed would be appropriately, and attractively, xeriscaped.
I couldn’t wait.
Though I could wait for having a mortgage payment, but everyone had to grow up sometime.
This was my time.
“Zara, you there, babe?” Ham asked when I still didn’t speak.
“I’m seein’ someone.”
It came out in a rush and was met with nothing.
I held my breath and got more nothing.
“Ham?” I called when he didn’t speak.
“It exclusive?” he asked and I nearly smiled at the same time I nearly cried.
Again, pure Ham. No promises. No expectations. He called when he called. I called when I called. We hooked up if it worked and we enjoyed ourselves tremendously when we did. If it didn’t work, both of us were disappointed (me probably more, but I never let on) but we kept on keeping on, waiting for the next call. The next hookup. The next two days or two weeks when we’d hang out, have fun, laugh, eat, drink, and make love.
Ham understood the concept of exclusive; he just didn’t utilize it. He’d respect it, if necessary. But, if he could, he’d also find ways to work around it.
So Ham had no hold on me like I had no hold on him. He had other women, I knew. He didn’t hide it nor did he shove it in my face.
He asked no questions about other men.
He wanted it that way.
I did not, but I never said a word because I suspected, if I did, I’d lose him.
Now, he’d lost me.
I just wondered how he’d feel about that.
“We’ve been seein’ each other for almost four months. We haven’t had that discussion but exclusive is implied,” I answered quietly.
“You into him?” Ham asked.
There was a smile in my voice when I reminded him, “We’ve been seein’ each other for almost four months, darlin’.”
But the smile hid my uncertainty.
My boyfriend, Greg, was a great guy. He was steady. He was sweet. He was quiet and there was no drama. He was better than average looking. And there was no doubt he was into me and also no doubt that I liked knowing that.
There was doubt, though. All on my side and all of it had to do with if I was into him.
But I wasn’t getting any younger. I wanted kids. I wanted to build a family. I wanted to do it in a way that it would take, no fighting, cheating, drama, heartbreak, all this ending in divorce. I wanted to be settled. I wanted to come home at night knowing what my evening would bring. I wanted to wake up the next morning next to someone, knowing what my day would bring. I wanted to give my kids, when I had them, stability and safety.
I also wanted that for myself. I’d never had it, not in my life.
And I wanted it.
And, after being friends with benefits with Graham Reece for five years, I knew that was not going to happen with him. No matter how much I wanted it to.
“So you’re into him,” I heard him mutter.
“Yeah,” I replied and tried to make that one word sound firm.
“Right, then, will he have a problem, I swing by and take you to lunch?” Ham asked.
No, Greg wouldn’t have a problem with that. Greg didn’t get riled up about much and I knew he wouldn’t even get riled up about an ex-lover swinging by to take me to lunch.
Thus me having doubts. Part of me felt I should be cool with a man who trusted me not to fuck him over. Part of me wanted a man who detested the idea of his woman spending time with an ex-lover. Possessiveness was hot. A man who staked his claim, marked his territory.
It wasn’t about lack of trust. It was about belonging to someone. It was about them having pride in that and wanting everyone to know it, especially you.
Ham looked like a man who would be that way. Knowing I wasn’t the only friend he enjoyed benefits with and his ask-no-questions, tell-no-lies approach to relationships proved he just wasn’t.
“No, Greg’ll be cool with that,” I told him and I shouldn’t have. With nothing holding him back, that meant Ham would go out of his way to hit Gnaw Bone, take me to lunch. I’d have to see him, want him, and, as ever, not have him. But this time, it would be worse. I wouldn’t have him at all, including in some of the really good ways I liked to have him.
“Okay, babe, I’ll call when I’m close,” he said.
“Right,” I murmured.
“Now you get to bed, go back to sleep,” he ordered.
That was not going to happen.
“Okay, Ham.”
“See you soon, darlin’.”
“Look forward to it, honey.”
“’Night, darlin’.”
“’Night, Ham.”
He disconnected and I stared out at the parking lot.
That was it. He wanted lunch. He wanted to continue the connection even if the connection had changed.
That was good.
But he wasn’t devastated or even slightly miffed that I was moving on, changing our connection.
That was very bad.
I bent my neck until my head hit the cool glass of the window and I stared at the cars in the lot without seeing them.
I did this for a long time.
Then I pulled myself together, moved from the window, made coffee, did laundry, and cleaned my apartment.
Five days later…
I sat in a booth at the side of The Mark, a restaurant in town. I had a ginger ale bubbling on the table in front of me. I was in the side of the booth where I could see the front windows and door.
I knew Ham was about to show because, ten minutes ago, I saw his big, silver Ford F-350 with the trailer hitched to the back holding his vintage Harley slide by. With that massive truck and the addition of a trailer, it would take him a while to find a good parking spot.
But he could walk in any second now.
I was nervous. I was excited.
I was sad.
And I knew I should never have agreed to this.
More sunlight poured through the restaurant and I looked from my ginger ale to the door to see it was open and Ham was moving through. I watched as he smiled at Trudy, a waitress at The Mark who was standing at the hostess station. He gave a head jerk my way. Trudy turned to look at me, smiled, and turned back to Ham, nodding.
Then I watched Ham walk to me.
Ham Reece was not graceful. He was too big to be graceful. He didn’t walk. He trudged.
But he was built. He was a bear of a man, tall and big. His mass of thick, dark hair was always a mess. He constantly looked like he’d either just gotten off the back of a bike he’d been riding wild and fast for hours or like he’d just gotten out of bed after he’d been riding a woman wild and fast for hours.
Now was no different, even though he’d just spent hours in the cab of his truck.
It looked good on him.
It always did.
Although big, he was fit and he worked at it. It was not lost on him with the years he’d put in in bars that he needed to be on the top of his game so, although not quick, he was in shape. He ran a lot. He also lifted. Every time I’d been with him, he’d found time to do what he needed to do, even if he was doing crunches on the floor of a hotel with his arms wrapped around something heavy held to his chest.