He let silence reacquaint itself and took his time. Reaching for his glass, the ice had melted, but he hoped to find a few remaining drops of liquor mixed in. “Katherine, this isn’t good.” He swallowed the rest, and added, “We’re not good.”
“It’s all my fault.” He let her say what he thought she should have said a year earlier. “I was scared.”
“You were scared? Katherine,” he said, sighing. “I can’t do this. Not right now.”
“Maybe coffee on Friday then?”
“I’m tired. It’s late.” Dropping the colored pencils to the table, he let them roll down to the trench at the bottom.
“I’m sorry for calling so late. I’ve just been thinking about you. Please, Taylor. Coffee. Please.”
Maybe it was that the hour was creeping toward midnight, or the Whiskey seeping into his system, but he finally relented. “Fine. Coffee on Friday. Meet you at Bean There at five.”
“For old times’ sake.”
Old times’ sake. He rolled his eyes. Taylor hung up, disappointed in his inability to say no to the woman who hurt him most when he’d needed her. He got up, set his glass next to the sink, and went to the door to lock up. There was no point in leaving it open any longer. Jude wasn’t coming back.
As he brushed his teeth that night, he thought about the snowflakes on her lashes and how she’d made eggs for him. He wondered why she was at his parents’ party, where she knew no one, and why she wore a sundress when it had been freezing outside. He rinsed his mouth and finished up. When he returned to bed, he left the blinds open and watched the snow fall until he fell asleep.
He awoke to knocking in the middle of the night. Jumping up, his heart racing from the disturbance, he rushed to the front door. Swinging it wide open, a drenched Jude stood there, looking a complete mess and dripping on the hallway carpet. “It’s Boehler.”
“What is?” he asked, restraining from grabbing her.
“My last name. It’s Boehler.”
A gentle smile appeared on her face when Taylor smiled. “Jude Boehler. Okay. Is that why you came back, Jude Boehler?” He hoped there was more, but had no idea how to read her.
“Yes. That, and because I wanted to kiss you again and I wanted you to kiss me like you did earlier.”
Looking down and then back up into the eyes that seared his soul, he leaned his head against the open door. “I might not be able to replicate that kiss. What do we do if I can’t?”
“We keep practicing—”
“Until we get it right.” He took her hand and pulled her inside. She was soaked, but he didn’t care. He hugged her tight, so glad she’d come back. The door was shut, the bolts locked, and her wet coat taken off and hung up. She left her boots at the door and her dress on the floor just outside the bedroom. His boxers were dropped by the bed, and their bodies connected, lips kissed—deeply—and moans were sighs of their coming together.
They were need and want.
Craving, and caring.
This was right.
They were right.
“JUDE?”
“Yeah?” She yawned and looked at the time. Three seventeen. She yawned again.
“Are you on your cycle?”
“I don’t even own a bike.” She was taunting him. Three seventeen in the morning seemed like a good time to tease. Not!
“No.” He sounded uncomfortable, but he finally worked it out. “Your menstrual cycle?”
“Medical speak is not my idea of foreplay. Try another angle.”
“I want to know.”
“Why?”
“Just tell me, Jude.”
“No. I’m not.”
He paused as it dawned on him. “Are you a virgin?”
“No, Hazel.”
He was onto her tricks already. “Were you? When you came over after the party?”
“Maybe.”
He pulled her even tighter against his chest and kissed her ear. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for having sex with you. That’s weird and feels like it’s going to be followed up with a payment.”
“I’m not paying you for sex, but I will kiss you again.”
“Down there?” she asked, perking up.
“Of course.”
Jude didn’t leave Taylor’s apartment that week, not even to get food or clothes. She wore his T-shirts. She ordered food. She smoked in the bedroom with a window cracked open since he didn’t like the smell.
He went to work. He came home with groceries. He brought her flowers and air fresheners. He never complained about the smoke. He liked Jude too much to let her one vice bother him.
For that, he was welcomed home with pancakes and waffles, eggs benedict, and oatmeal for dinner. They ate in the nude. They ate on the couch and in bed. They made love while the snow fell outside and with the blinds wide open.
Friday came and he went to work. A black cloud had been blocking their sunshine and it was about to downpour. All week he hadn’t really thought of Katherine or the coffee meeting. But here it was, and he didn’t want to go. He sat at his desk, staring out the window of the high-rise office building where he worked. Ten blocks home. Three blocks to Bean There.
The ticking of his watch echoed in his ears and he looked down. Four fifty-seven. He set down his pencil and shutdown his laptop. Peering out the window while he put his coat on, he studied the weather and tried to think of any excuse he could to go home to Jude instead.
“It’s gotten heavier,” his co-worker Ben said. “I think I’ll wait it out and get caught up on the Manger project.”
“Good idea. Unfortunately, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting someone at five.”
“You’ll be late.”
“Yeah, I’m okay being late to this meeting.”
“Mysterious. You seeing someone new?”
Taylor smiled. He couldn’t help it when he thought about Jude.
Then he said, “Or did you get back together with Katherine?”
But her name wiped the happy gleam from his face. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he said, “I should go. Have a good night.”
Ben got back to work, not bothering to get more from him. He knew he wouldn’t talk about it if he didn’t want to. And he had too much work to catch up on. “You too.”
Taylor wrapped his scarf around his neck as he waited for the elevator. He thought about calling Jude, but he didn’t have her number. It wouldn’t matter. She’ll be there when he got home. Content, she didn’t ask him about his day or talk about hers. When they were together, they lived in the moment, and he loved every second.
As he rode the elevator, he wondered how practical that really was. Quite frankly, it wasn’t practical at all. That was just it. They didn’t make sense, but neither questioned what was going on. They just lived…
Taylor walked into the quaint coffee shop fifteen minutes late. He saw Katherine rise from a back table and wave him over. He started walking while taking his gloves off, but detoured to order a coffee before joining her. He needed to have something to hold, something to steady his hand. He hated faltering in front of her and she didn’t deserve access to that side of his life anymore.
With his drink in hand, he sat down across from her, setting his gloves on the table. “Hello,” he said, noticing her hair was shorter, not by much, but enough to see her differently.
“Hi,” she said, keeping her voice intimate. She reached across the table and covered his hand that held the mug. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure if you were going to.”
He pulled back, and eyed her. “I don’t have long.”
“Oh? I was hoping to catch up.” When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Are you seeing someone new?”
He looked away. He wanted to tell her that her photo had been discarded into the drawer. He really wanted to brag that he has someone waiting with bacon or some other breakfast food for him that she had cooked for dinner. And that the prettiest and messiest brunette he’d ever seen was there, waiting just for him, probably naked. This woman that made him laugh and think that a life, even one that could be cut short was still worth living, was at his place right now. But he didn’t.