“Nadia? Hi. Yep, ready when you are.” He laughed.
My heart clenched. Fine. I turned to say goodnight to James, devastatingly handsome and right there. Right there in front of me. O had been gone a long time, and she and James had once been close. Could he? Would he? I was going to find out. I invited him in.
As I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge, I watched him scan the room, taking stock of everything: the Bose sound system, the Eames chair by the desk. He even checked out my crystal as I handed him his glass. He thanked me, his eyes burning into mine as our fingers slipped past each other.
Nature took over. Hands knew, skin recognized, lips teased and became reacquainted. It was new and old at the same time, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good. His shirt came off. My skirt dropped, I kicked off my heels, and our arms wrapped and tucked in. Eventually and inevitably, we headed to the bedroom.
I bounced lightly on the bed, watching through hazy eyes as he knelt before me on the floor.
“I missed you.”
“I know.” I pulled him on top of me. Everything was fine, everything was as it should be, and as I mechanically wrapped my legs around his waist, his belt buckle digging cold into my thigh, he looked deeply into my eyes and smiled.
“I’m so glad I needed a decorator.”
And just like that, fine was not enough.
“No, James.” I sighed, pushing at his shoulders.
“What, baby?”
I hated when he called me baby.
“No, no, just no. Get up.” I sighed again as he continued to kiss my neck. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized what used to make me feel something now made me feel nothing at all.
“You’re kidding, right?” He moaned in my ear, and I pushed him again.
“I said get up, James,” I said, a little louder this time.
He got the message. Doesn’t mean he was happy to hear it. He stood up as I smoothed my shirt, which was thankfully still mostly buttoned.
“You gotta go,” I managed, tears beginning to track down my cheeks.
“Caroline, what the—”
“Just go, okay? Just go!” I yelled. It wasn’t fair to him, but I had to be fair to myself. I couldn’t go backward, not now.
I clasped my hands to my face and heard him sigh, then stomp off, slamming the door. I couldn’t blame him. He must’ve been in blue-ball hell. I was sad and mad and a little bit tipsy, and I hated my O. My eyes landed on one of my Come Fuck Me shoes on the floor, and I threw it as hard as I could into the living room.
“Ooof!” I heard a deep voice utter, and it was not James Brown’s. It was the man I did want in my bed, and the one I was most mad at right now.
Holding the shoe like some kind of late-night Prince Charming to my slutty O-less Cinderel a, Simon appeared in my doorway, barefoot and in his pajama bottoms. The sight of his perfect speedbump abs crossed me over from pissed off to M. A. D.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, angrily wiping my tears from my face. He was going to see me cry.
“Um, I heard you and James…Well, I heard you, and then I heard you yelling, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he stammered.
“You’re not here to rescue me, are you?” I bit back, air-quoting the rescue.
He backed away as I crawled off the bed, seeming scared of my impending explosion. Even I knew this was going to be ugly.
“Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued?
I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wall banging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”
I was pointing and waving my arms around like someone was going to take them away from me. He had every right to look scared.
“I mean, what the hell is with you men? I’ve got one who wants me back, and one who doesn’t want anything to do with me! One who wants to be my boyfriend, but can’t even remember that I’m an interior designer. Designer! Not a fucking decorator!” I was on a roll. At this point I was just ranting, plain and simple. I stalked in a circle around Simon, pacing and shouting while he tried to follow me, finally just standing still and watching me with huge eyes.
“I mean, you shouldn’t force someone to eat Vietnamese food if they don’t like Vietnamese food, should you? I shouldn’t have to eat it, should I, Simon?”
“No, Caroline, I don’t think you should—” he started.
“No, of course I shouldn’t, so I got the fried rice! Fried rice, Simon! I’m not gonna eat Vietnamese food ever again—not for James, not for you, not for anyone! You got that?”
“Well, Caroline, I think—”
“And for your information,” I continued, “I did not need a rescue tonight! I took care of it myself. He’s gone. And I know you think James is some kind of psycho, but he isn’t,” I said, beginning to lose momentum. My lower lip quivered again, and I fought it, but finally let go. “He isn’t a bad guy.
He just…he just…he just isn’t the right guy for me.” I sighed, sinking down to the floor in front of my bed and holding my head in my hands.
I cried for a moment, while Simon remained frozen above me. I finally looked up at him. “hello? Girl crying down here!” I sputtered.
He swallowed a smile and sat down in front of me. He pulled me off the floor and gathered me into his arms. And I totally let him. He settled me onto his lap and held me close as I cried into his chest. He was warm and gentle, and even though I knew better—oh, how I knew better—I tucked into the nook and let him comfort me. His hands ran up and down my back as I sobbed, his fingertips making the tiniest of circles on my shoulder blades as I breathed him in. It had been so long since I’d been held, just held, by a man that between the tiny circles and the scent of his fabric softener I was losing my senses.
Finally my sobs began to quiet as he held me close, cross-legged on my floor. “Why didn’t you play me music this week?” I sniffled.
“My needle was broken. I have to get it fixed.”
“Oh, I thought maybe…well, I missed it is all,” I said shyly.
He smoothed back my hair and brought his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I missed you.” He smiled gently.
“Me too,” I breathed, and his sapphires began to spin. Oh no. No voodoo. “How was Purina? Good? Bet she missed you too,” I whispered and watched his face change.
“Why do you keep bringing up Nadia?”
“I heard you on the phone with her earlier. Sounded like you were making plans.”
“Yes, I met her for drinks.”
“Please. You expect me to believe she didn’t come over?” I asked, noticing I was still on his lap.
“Ask your cat. Did he go crazy tonight?” Simon pointed at Clive, who had returned and was now watching us from the back of the couch.
“No, he didn’t, actually.”
“That’s because she didn’t come over. We met for drinks to say goodbye.” Simon looked at me carefully.
My heart began to beat so loud there was no way he couldn’t hear it. Why did Heart have to be so in to this? “Goodbye?”
“Yep, she’s going back to Moscow to finish her degree there.”
Heart settled down a bit. “Oh, so you said goodbye because she was leaving, not for any other reason. Silly me.” I lifted myself off his lap as he held me closer. I struggled.
“She’s leaving, yes, but that’s not why we said goodbye. I—”
I continued to wiggle. “Wow, only the Giggler left! And then there was one. I guess technically one does not make a harem, so will she be shouldering the load for the others or will you need to be interviewing for some more women? How does that work exactly?” I snapped.
“Actually, I’m going to be having a conversation with Lizzie very soon as well. I think we’re going to be just friends from now on,” he said, watching me closely. “What used to work for me just doesn’t work anymore.”