“You also told me that you melted like a pat of butter when he kissed you,” she reminds me, gesticulating wildly with her knife. “That sounds like he’s worth the risk.”
I take a step back before I’m the victim of manslaughter. “It wasn’t just the kiss. Jude makes me feel so many emotions that I haven’t felt in years. Anger. Sadness. Giddiness.”
“You’ve closed yourself off to anything that might confuse you.” Wise Amie has come out to play. “You need to open yourself up to the possibility of love.”
“I’m certainly open to him.” I slump against the kitchen wall. “That’s the problem.”
“That is a promising start.” She winks at me. Abandoning the vegetables to her sous chef, she wipes her hands on her apron and tips her head toward the back office.
I follow her inside and she pours herself a glass of wine, I get a cup of coffee, and we sit down at the desk. I’ve just taken a sip when she hits me with this:
“Do you want to have sex with him?”
I choke on the coffee, spraying it like I’m on an over-the-top sitcom.
Amie frowns as she covers her glass. “It’s a simple question. Don’t die.”
“You’ve seen him.” I wipe the splattered coffee off my top, thankful I wore black today. “Of course, I want to have sex with him. What woman wouldn’t want to have sex with him?”
“Lesbians. Blind women. Hopefully married women.” She counts out the possibilities on her fingers.
“The minority,” I finish for her. There’s no denying Jude could have any woman he wants. It’s a waste of time to wonder what he sees in me. Attraction is funny like that, and although I’m a mom, I like to think I look pretty good—when I remember to brush my hair. The real issue is that my body wanted him before. It’s a sad state of affairs when a grown woman still puddles over a tattooed man with messy hair and soulful eyes. Although a large part of the initial attraction stemmed from the tightness of his t-shirt. I’ve wanted him since then. Since I’ve gotten to know him, I crave him. I need to know how his body will feel against mine.
“So you’re going to go to bed with him?”
I stammer for a response that doesn’t make me sound like a horny teenager. “Um, I guess…eventually.”
“Praise the lord!” She swipes her phone off the desk and begins to furiously type.
“What are you doing?” I try to sneak a glimpse at her phone.
“Subscribing to bridal magazines.” She begins to hum the wedding march for emphasis.
“Oh my God!” I grab the phone from her.
“What? I’m a planner.”
“Then plan this,” I call her attention back to the reason I confided in her in the first place. “We’re not even speaking to one another.”
“Listen.” Amie sets her phone down and grabs me by the shoulders. “You are a strong, confident, gorgeous woman who deserves to get fucked very hard by that sexy piece of man. You just march yourself over there and take him to bed.”
“I have a kid,” I remind her, “and pride.”
“Which is exactly why you’re going. No self-respecting woman would pass this opportunity by.”
“What if he doesn’t want to?” I’m searching for excuses now.
“You’re just being deliberately obtuse now.” She stands up and holds out her hands. “You did use that vibrator, right?”
“I’m not answering that.” But I allow her to haul me to my feet. I won’t admit that it freaks me out. “I have to pick up Max in an hour. That doesn’t really give me much time.”
“Your ambition is making me so proud.” She gives me a quick hug. “I’ve got Max. Please don’t come home until one of you needs medical attention.”
Yeah, that’s so not happening. “I’ll be home tonight.”
“Come home in the morning.”
I don’t bother to acknowledge her. Amie pushes me out the door, wishing me many a happy orgasm, loudly enough that the entire restaurant swivels in their chairs to stare at me. There’s nothing like feeling you have a whole town behind you, and something even more important in front of you.
By the time I reach Jude’s house, I lose my nerve. Sitting in my car, I stare up at his house and the evidence of the disparity between us. It’s amazing how all the little choices we make add up to such different lives. Jude and I share the same tragic flaws: addiction, over-dependence. Yet, he lives on the top of the hill and I live at its base.
Our worlds were never meant to collide.
The money, Max; neither of which should keep me from going to his door so why am I still sitting here?
A soft tap on the passenger window startles me. I turn slowly, still clutching my chest, to face Jude. He’s back from a run. Sweat glistens in his dark hair, and his shirt clings to his chest and the flat plane of his abdomen. He motions for me to roll the window down. When I shake my head no, he opens the door.
“I fixed it, remember?” he says.