The very blonde Katherine stared at him, every strand of her hair perfectly in place. And he said, “No.” He didn’t feel right speaking of Jude to her. He didn’t want to expose what they had to the outside world. He didn’t know if it could survive beyond the walls of his place, past January, or beyond winter. So he held tight to what he cared about most and shook his head. “I just have a lot of work to do.”
A wide smile showed, her white teeth brighter against the blood-red lipstick. “That’s good to hear. I mean,” she said, trying to sound casual, “about the work. You’re keeping busy. That’s good. Are you hungry? We can order something or go out to eat.”
“No.” He sipped his drink. “Why did you want to meet?”
“Like I said, to catch up. You’re looking good. You look healthy.”
“I’m healthier. Right now. But like you, it comes and goes.”
Embarrassed, she looked down, her eyes on her coffee that was now cold. When she looked up, she steadied herself, and a small smile came along for the ride. “I’m sorry. I am. So much, Taylor. I miss you. I can’t replace the past and the bad choices I made. I can only try to fix our future.”
“We don’t have a future to fix. You made sure of that when you fucked my friend while I was in the hospital.” He sat back, feeling annoyed. “I’m surprised you didn’t do it bedside while I slept.”
“You weren’t that close of friends from what I remember.” He started to stand, but she said, “I’m sorry. Please. But you have to understand. You weren’t the only one going through something, Taylor. I was going through it too—”
“Don’t.” He sat up, trying to keep his cool in a public place, but failing to keep his emotions in check. “Don’t act like your life was on the line! You were put out. That’s it. You were put out because your boyfriend was stuck in a hospital having every test out there performed on him and couldn’t escort you to a fucking ball. A ball by the way that was hosted by my parents to support Parkinson’s research.”
A tremor ran through him and he released the mug abruptly, causing the hot liquid to slosh over the top. “I’ve got to go. It was great catching up with you,” he said sarcastically as he stood up.
She stood and grabbed hold of his hand. Putting his between both of hers, she said, “I understand more now. I’m here.” Her hands rubbed back and forth, his shaking subsiding. “I want to be here for you, Taylor.”
Pulling his hand away, he tucked it quickly into his pocket, a habit he’d formed allowing him to hide tremors when necessary. “I need to go. I’m late.” He walked away from her, weaving his way through the crowded coffee shop and out onto the street. He didn’t bother tightening his scarf around his neck or even buttoning his coat. He just walked away from Katherine as fast as he could.
When he opened the door to his apartment, Jude stood up from his drafting table stool. Their eyes met, guilt tainting his heart. “Hi,” he spoke first.
She fidgeted with the boxer shorts she was wearing, a royal blue pair he bought a month ago, and an old heather-gray college T-shirt of his with Brown across the front. “Hi.” She hated feeling this way, feeling like when she was at home and was either in trouble or had caused trouble. “I made muffins. They’re vanilla and jellybean.”
“Jellybean muffins?” he asked hanging his coat on the hook behind the door.
“You didn’t have any berries.”
Walking slowly toward her, he said, “I didn’t know I had jellybeans.”
“You didn’t.” She shifted. “I did. In my pocket. I bought them last week.”
“All right.” When he reached her, he touched her waist gently. “I missed you today.” Then he kissed her. Her soft lips opened for him and she pulled at his shirt until it was no longer tucked. Her warm hands slipped underneath and they got even closer. When they pulled back, he said, “I like you in my clothes. I like you here.”
That eased her worries. “I like being here. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
They kissed again, his hands sliding under her shirt and grabbing her breasts. A loud knock interrupted them, and he sighed into her mouth. She looked at him quizzically. “I can get it. You’re hungry. Get something to eat.”
“I’m hungry for you.” He stopped her as she walked past, and went ahead of her. “No,” he said, squeezing her perky breasts, her nipples hard under the soft cotton. “I’ll get it. Have you eaten?”
“I was waiting for you.”
Laughing, he reached for the door, and started opening it when he said, “We’ll eat the muffins and then I’m going to eat yo—”
“Taylor.” His head whipped around to the barely cracked-open door. Katherine stood before him. Guilt choked his words as he glanced behind him at Jude. When he turned back, Katherine said, “You left your gloves at the coffee shop.” She held them out, but his hands seemed to be glued to the door. Her eyes searched past him before he stepped forward and started to pull the door closed behind him.
But it was too late. Katherine said, “Hello.”
Taylor looked back into the apartment. It was as if Jude was shrinking into herself. She was fading like a Morning Glory in the hot sun.
Katherine added, “I recognize that shirt. It’s the softest of all of his. It was always my favorite.”
“That’s enough,” Taylor said, taking the gloves. “Thank you for returning these, but it wasn’t necessary.”
He started to close the door on her, but her hand landed on it with a thud as she took a step inside. “Oh, but it was. Very necessary I see. Who’s your friend, Taylor?”
Wanting to protect Jude from Katherine’s harsh glare, his tone turned adamant. “You’re not welcome here, Katherine.”
Katherine stood there, looking comfortable as she stared at Jude. “And you are?”
Jude gulped. The intensity of the beautiful woman in front of her wrecked her. She tugged at the shirt as if it could cover the lack of confidence under the cotton. Taylor. Gloves. Coffee shop. Katherine. It was too much. She excused herself, went into the bedroom, and closed the door.
Katherine turned, her hair flipping around and she smiled—big and broad. Tapping Taylor’s chest, she said, “You can do better.” She walked to the door and stopped just before exiting. “The place smells of smoke. I’m assuming with your health condition, you haven’t started smoking. It was great seeing you today. Hopefully we can do dinner soon.” She left and he closed the door, locking both bolts.
Dropping the gloves on the bar, he went to the bedroom and knocked lightly. “Jude? Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for a response. He just opened the door and went in. She sat by the chair near the window and looked out. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.” When she glanced back at him—a dark silhouette in the doorway—she said, “I tend to do that.”
There was just enough light emanating from the kitchen that he could see her eyes were glassy as he approached and knelt before her. “You’re welcome to stay here longer. We took things fast. That part has been hard to rationalize. But what others think of us doesn’t matter to me. You do. You matter. I like you here. I like being here with you. I like being with you. Stay.”
“It’s not real. None of this is real.” She closed her eyes and laid her head back. “It’s a dream, all in my head.”
“Then don’t wake up.” He rested his head on her lap. “Stay asleep with me forever.”
His voice was full of passion and his words made her think that maybe they were possible, even if his eyes seemed stuck in the impossibility of it all.
She whispered, “I’ll stay.”