Chapter Six

  December 14th

  Nora

  My phone chirped. Again.

  “Are you serious?” Riley asked. “You’re still ignoring him?”

  “Nora, push me higher!” Sage cried.

  I tore my focus from my best friend who was currently nursing a gingerbread latte on the playground bench to the little hellion I was pushing on the swings. I’d picked the girls up at school about an hour ago and since their private “academy” didn’t have a playground – something about channeling their energy into “productive learning” rather than play – I’d driven them over to the park near our house. Riley had met us with holiday drinks – a gingerbread latte for her, a peppermint mocha for me, and S’mores hot chocolates for Sage and Olive. Just one of the many reasons why I loved her… she kept me caffeinated.

  “Any higher and you’ll go over the bar,” I shouted over the raucous screams and laughter. The playground was packed full of parents and nannies who’d had the same idea I had.

  “That’s what I want!”

  “You won’t go over the bar, Sage.” Olive never failed to dampen the mood. When we’d arrived at the park, she’d promptly unpacked her bag and begun to do a crossword puzzle. For fun. She’d even brought her Children’s Dictionary. “That’s impossible. Because of physics.”

  Where does she come up with this stuff?

  “Aren’t you a little young for Physics, Ollie?” I asked. When she stuck her tongue out in response, I did the same. It was good to know there was a typical eight-year-old in there somewhere.

  Riley leaned over Olive’s shoulder and pointed at her puzzle. “Flair. Nine down. Five-letter word for ‘style’. It’s flair.”

  Olive’s brows furrowed. “Quit helping me.”

  “Yeah, quit helping her,” I echoed sarcastically.

  “And you.” Riley pointed at me. “You quit changing the subject. How many times has he texted today?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. “Maybe six.” Another lie. It was fourteen.

  “And how about yesterday? And the day before that?” she pestered. No wonder she taught high schoolers. She’d scare the pants off elementary students. Unless of course, those elementary students were crossword puzzling, tea-hating weirdos.

  “What does it matter?” I asked. The truth was Bowie had been blowing my phone up with calls and texts since our night together. Er, weekend together, I suppose. At first, I’d texted back vague responses.

  (Bowie) I had a great time with you yesterday. We should get together again soon.

  (Me) Yeah, sounds good.

  (Bowie) I watched another Hallmark movie last night. And guess what? The guy turned out to be Santa. Again. LOL

  (Me) Haha. Nice.

  Then, I’d just stop responding altogether. I knew it was a dick move. And it’s not that I didn’t want to see him or talk to him again. Of course, I did. It wasn’t every day you met a sweet and sexy business owner who’d hold your hair back one minute and make you come like crazy the next. I bet he even owned more than one set of towels…

  “Four letter word for ‘cold feet’?” Olive asked.

  “I thought I wasn’t allowed to help you.” Riley taunted.

  “Whatever,” Olive grumbled. “Four letter word for ‘cold feet’?”

  “Fear,” I told her.

  “Nora,” Riley said at the same time. I rolled my eyes and pushed Sage even higher.

  “I’m not afraid,” I emphasized. “I’m just… realistic”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Seriously, what’s the point? I’m not looking for a relationship and he shouldn’t be looking for one.”

  I had no doubt that Bowie would make one hell of a boyfriend, but he’d also just gotten out of a relationship. While I was okay being someone’s one-night rebound, what I was not okay with was somebody using me to fill a void. I wasn’t anybody’s placeholder. “This was just supposed to be a holiday fling, nothing more. Somebody to cuddle up to during ‘cuffing season’”.

  “So, cuddle up to him then. You’ve still got like, two months of cuffing to go.”

  “Who do you want to handcuff, Nora?” Sage asked. Riley’s interrogation had distracted me long enough for Sage to dismount the swing and tunnel between my legs.

  “Bowie,” Riley told her. Great, that’s exactly what I needed. A six-year-old’s opinion on my love life.

  “I love Bowie!” Sage announced, pumping her fists in the air.

  “You met Bowie once," I reminded her.

  “Bowie paints his nails pretty colors. Merry and bright.” This is what I loved most about kids. While they tended to over-simplify everything, they also had a knack for finding the beauty in most things, including people. Even ginger-bearded, bespectacled Brits who served them tea. “Why do you want to handcuff him, Nora? Has he been bad?”

  Riley hid a smile behind her coffee cup. “No, sweetie, it’s just a… thing people say.” I told her. Kids might be a lot smarter than adults gave them credit for, but in no way did I think it’d be appropriate to explain ‘cuffing season’ to a six-year-old.

  “It means she likes him,” Riley added, wagging her brows.

  “Like, like likes him?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Sage giggled. “I like liked Bobby B. earlier this year, but that was before he shared his grapes with Amber, and not me. Now, I like like Bobby G.” Oh, to be six again. “Does that mean I should cuff him?”

  “No!” I said quickly and loudly. Loud enough for Sage to know that we’d crossed from playful to serious. I squatted beside her and took her hands in mine. “No,” I said again, this time evening out my voice. “Just forget about everything I said, okay?” She nodded. I led her towards Riley and Olive’s bench, swinging her little hand in mine as we went. “Oh, and I think you made the right choice about Bobby B. You don’t owe anybody anything. Especially if they can’t even share their grapes. Does Bobby G. share his grapes with you?”

  “Yup. And I share my seaweed packets with him.”

  Geez. Six-years-old and she already understood the give-and-take every relationship called for.

  I turned to Olive. For somebody who had an opinion about everything, she’d been surprisingly quiet. “And what about you? What do you think of Bowie?”

  She shrugged. “He’s alright.” I lifted my brows and turned to Riley, whose face mirrored mine. She’d spent enough time with the girls to know that that was high praise coming from Olive. “Alright” might as well have been “stupendous”, in Olive-speak.

  I sighed in defeat. Clearly, I was outnumbered. “What if he doesn’t even want to hear from me?” I wouldn’t want to hear from somebody who’d been actively avoiding me for days. Especially if that person had all but ridden my face and then left me high and dry.

  I’d worn my comfiest corduroy overalls today. Riley reached into the front pouch and pulled out my cell phone. “You won’t know unless you call him.” She held the phone out to me. I eyed it like a bomb, ready to explode at any second.

  “Fine.” I begrudgingly took the phone from her. “What am I even supposed to say?”

  “Well, you could start by apologizing for freezing him out. Ask him to grab a drink or something.” Her eyes lit up. “He could run lines with you for your audition on Friday.”

  “I can’t ask him to do that…”

  “Why? Because you know he’ll say yes?” She was right. There was no doubt in my mind that he’d say yes if I asked for his help.

  “Can’t you just run lines with me?”

  “Nope. I’ve got report cards to finish, and conferences start tomorrow. I just needed a quick coffee fix and some fresh air before getting started.” She picked up her oversized tote and dumped her empty coffee cup in the nearby garbage can. “And before you ask, Devin is holed up in their studio tonight, so you’re shit out of luck.”

  Sage gasped. “That’s a bad word, Riley.”

  “You’re right, Oh Sage one. She’s… beep out of luck.”

  “Nice. Much better,” I said, dripping with sarcasm.

  She smirked. “See you later, monsters.”

  The girls waved their goodbyes and then, it was just the four of us. Sage, Olive, me… and my suddenly very-heavy cell phone. Since when was I afraid to call a boy? I was a thirty-three-year-old woman. I’d visited over fifty countries. I’d colored my hair since I was fifteen. I’d posed for a diamond ad in nothing but pasties and jewel-encrusted panties. I was a goddamn adult. And yet, there was something about Bowie that made me nervous. He made me want something… more.

  Something that I had no issue imitating on stage or screen, but had always eluded me in real life.

  It didn’t take long to find his contact info. It’d only been a few hours since his last text. As I scrolled through the one-sided conversation, I thought about what I’d told Sage. About not owing anybody anything. Sage advice. It was a principle I tried to live by, both professionally and personally. In that moment, I realized I didn’t owe Bowie anything. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to give it to him – give myself to him – freely. And I think that’s what scared me most of all.

  I hit the call button.

  Bowie

  “What do you think I want from you?” I asked.

  “Nothing that I have to offer.”

  I dropped the script into my lap. “Well, that’s cryptic,” I murmured.

  Nora tossed up her hands before reaching for another scone. “Okay, so it’s not the best script ever.” She dunked the scone in the pot of clotted cream, before stuffing the whole thing in her mouth. Oh yeah, Nan would’ve loved her. “But that doesn’t make me want it any less,” she said, after she’d swallowed, “Plus, it’s kind of a big deal. The director used to be Steven Soderbergh’s assistant’s assistant.”

  “His assistant… needed an assistant?”

  She shrugged. “Everybody in Hollywood needs an assistant. Even assistants.”

  I shook my head but didn’t make any further commentary. No matter how ludicrous I thought she sounded.

  After nearly three days of radio silence, to say I’d been surprised by Nora’s call this afternoon would be an understatement. I’d pretty much just chalked our entire “situationship” (a term I’d learned from Leighton) to an orgasm-induced fever dream. Her orgasm, that is, not mine. Unless you counted the last three nights of wanking off to memories of Nora’s pussy. All that to say, I hadn’t expected to hear from her again.

  But then she’d called me. She’d apologized for ignoring my texts and chalked her silence up to “being busy”. I had a hunch that there was more to it, but the last thing I wanted to do was push her away. If seeing her again meant helping her run lines for her big audition, I was up for the task. Even if it meant slowing things down between us. That didn’t matter. She’d called me.

  “More tea?” I offered, lifting the pot.

  “Please.” I topped off her cup. “Look, I know that some of the lines are cheesy, but this is my job. It’s important to me.”

  My lips lifted. If there was one thing I admired most about Nora it was her work ethic. Between her nannying responsibilities and acting opportunities, she always seemed to throw her everything into her work. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Let’s just take it from the same spot.”

  I nodded and glanced around the shop. We’d closed early today to prepare for a private party this evening – an elegant bridal shower. I’d already prepped all the food for the event, and Leighton and Hillary, a college student I’d hired part-time, were currently setting the tables. There wasn’t much left to do, and thankfully, there wasn’t anybody around to witness my awful acting skills (or lack thereof).

  I ran a hand through my hair and adjusted my glasses. No wonder I worked in food service. The pressure of preparing for an audition – even though it wasn’t mine – was too much for me to handle. I rolled up the sleeves of my jumper to my elbows and turned to Nora. “Ready?”

  Her lips were parted, eyes glued to my forearms. “What?”

  I smiled. It was good to know that I still affected her in some way.

  I leaned across the table and used two of my fingers to gently tilt her chin up. Her gaze met mine. “Are you ready to run it again? I promise I’ll behave this time.” I winked.

  Her cheeks reddened. “Right.” She brushed the crumbs from her dungarees and lifted the script to her chest. She took a few deep breaths and then, just like that, Nora wasn’t Nora anymore. I’d never dated an actress before, but I had to believe that not every performer escaped so seamlessly into the characters they portrayed.

  I waited until she nodded again, before starting from the top of the scene. “What do you think I want from you?”

  “Nothing that I have to offer.” She was cold and direct.

  “April, please. This can’t be it.”

  “What do you want me to say, Charlie? We had our time together and it was great. But…” I hung in wait for her to continue. “But…” She prompted again, looking up from the script in front of her. Bollocks. I’d been so caught up in her performance that I’d forgotten my line.

  I cleared my throat. “But what?”

  “But it ran its course. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Fair for who?”

  “For either of us. Sooner or later, you’d lose interest. Don’t deny it. And even if it wasn’t you who lost interest, it’d be me. That’s…” This time, it was Nora who fumbled the line. “That’s what always happens.”

  This “rehearsal” had suddenly taken an uncomfortable turn. What was that old saying about fiction mirroring reality? In that moment, somebody was holding a mirror up to Nora and me, rather than April and Charlie, our fictional counterparts.

  “That’s not true. We’re destined to be together. Forever.”

  “Forever is a fairytale, Charlie,” she said dramatically. “Besides, the world will end in five days, unless we stop that missile heading straight for Earth.” Well, so much for reality.

  “Scene.” It was Nora, the actress, who was speaking now. Not April, the aerospace engineer.

  We set our scripts aside and silently sipped our tea. I studied Nora over the rim of my teacup, while she focused intently on the contents of hers. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it – about us – but I needed to know that she wouldn’t run again. I needed to know that she was just as interested in me as I was in her before I fell for her. Well, before I fell for her more than I already had. I needed some kind of… sign. For fuck’s sake I’ve been watching too many Hallmark movies.

  “What time is it?”

  I blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone. “5:45.”

  “Do you need to stick around for the party tonight?”

  “No,” I told her. “I already did my bit and Leighton’s closing. Why?” I cocked my brow. What was she up to?

  “Good. I want to take you somewhere.” She hopped to her feet.

  “Now? But what about the audition?

  “I’m feeling good about it now. Better than before. Besides, I can always rehearse more later.”

  “But where –”

  “Bowie.” She inhaled a deep breath and angled her body in my direction before continuing. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret. I kind of suck at saying what I mean when I mean it. Maybe it’s because I chose a profession where people literally tell me what to say and do, but yeah. I’m more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of girl.” She took my hand in hers and linked our fingers together. “I know I messed up before, but this is me trying to show you that I appreciate your patience with me. Is that okay?”

  I took careful stock of the way she bit her bottom lip and the hope that flickered through her milky, brown eyes. Something told me this wasn’t a gesture Nora made very often. She’d extended her hand to me, but it may as well have been an olive branch. But did I want to take it? The answer was obvious.

  You bet your fucking arse I did.

  “I’ll drive.”

  With me driving and Nora directing, it only took about fifteen minutes to reach our intended destination. It took another fifteen to park the car. As we approached the park flooded with twinkling lights and a large crowd of people, I finally realized what was going on.

  “So, what do you think?” Nora asked, her arm tucked in mine. “Does it live up to what you remember?”

  When Nora had directed us to Echo Park, I hadn’t known what to expect. As far as I knew, Echo Park didn’t have much to offer after dark, except maybe a night hike and a quick and dirty drug deal (or so I heard). What I hadn’t expected to find was row after row of local vendors, all there to sell their artisanal goods to holiday shoppers. Everything from hand-crafted jewelry to personalized pet portraits and even DIY gingerbread kits to create your very own gingerbread Hollywood sign.

  I turned to Nora. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Holiday shopping. What else?” She gestured towards the booths. “Wow, that’s the biggest gingerbread cookie I’ve ever seen.” I dug my heels into the sidewalk when she tried to pull me towards the booth in question. She looked back at me, her face washed in confusion.

  “Nora.” I took her hands in mine and turned to face her. “Why did you bring me here, of all places?”

  She looked back at the festivities. She looked anywhere but at me. “I don’t know.”

  I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and turned her face towards mine. She’d worn tennis shoes today, which placed her only a couple of inches taller than me. She squirmed under my inspection, so I gentled the hand around her neck and used two fingers to stroke her nape. Finally, she looked at me.

  “You told me how much you missed Christmas markets, so I just wanted to give you something, you know?” she said. “A little taste of home.”

  Her eyes flickered with something. Maybe it was apprehension. Maybe it was anticipation. Perhaps it was a little of both. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go another second without my arms wrapped around this woman. Without my mouth on hers. So, I kissed her. My hand tightened around her neck. I pulled her body flush against mine. And wouldn’t you know it?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13