Intoxicated (15 page)

My game didn’t help. My breath still came in
ragged bursts. My pulse still pounded frantically in my veins.
Alone in this cavernous space, my walls were closing in on me.
Frustrated, I jumped up from the stool and made my way to the sink.
I stared at my reflection in the spotless mirror, contemplating
what I saw. I didn’t have to look twice to see how distraught I
was.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t dream about
Matthew when I was in Eric’s bed. Why had that even happened? Where
had that come from? And whose words had my subconscious read aloud?
Were those the feelings I wanted Eric to admit or were they the
sentiments I wished Matthew would express?

I needed to think about this rationally. Of
course I had seen Matthew without his shirt on. More often than I
cared to admit, our dinners together ended up with a dip in the hot
tub. There was nothing wrong with finding him attractive. So
ultimately, in my dream induced vision, I had superimposed his body
in place of Eric’s more forgettable frame. I was just imagining my
dream Eric, right?

This led me to the hair. Eric’s was much too
short to run my fingers through, let alone grab. But why wasn’t the
hair in my dream dark like his?

Because it was Matthew I was dreaming about.
Undoubtedly so. I was positive, even though I hadn’t seen his face.
Any other explanation was futile. There was no way the man in my
dreams was the man lying asleep on the other side of the door.

I was romanticizing the night that Matthew
had spent consoling me. The night that he had told me that I was
beautiful. The night I fell asleep in his arms. All nothing more
than friendly gestures on his part. I was reading way too much into
them. He had never professed his love for me. He had never given me
any indication that he cared about me in anything but a platonic
way. He seemed like the perfect catch because we didn’t have a
relationship. Friends, especially those who hadn’t known each other
for long, could hide their faults from one another.

I wasn’t about to consider why we had both
obviously been naked.

I methodically washed my face, taking as long
as I possibly could to complete the task. I dried my skin with a
fluffy white towel from the linen closet. I considered wadding it
up on the counter or throwing it on the floor as an experiment to
see if it disappeared the next day. Chickening out, I disposed of
it in the hamper that stood guard in the corner of the room. I felt
no guilt at leaving the cotton streaked with traces of my black
eyeliner and mascara. No doubt that Eric wouldn’t be attending to
the laundry.

I knew I couldn’t hide out in the bathroom
forever. At some point in time, Eric would roll over and realize I
wasn’t there. Sure, I could fake needing to use the facilities, or
having to wash off my makeup, but there was no way to excuse being
curled up in the fetal position on his travertine floor. Even if
the tiles were heated. I had to pull myself together and forget
this ever happened.

Reluctantly, I climbed back into bed. Again,
Eric surfaced enough to acknowledge my presence. He rolled over to
face me, wrapping his arms around me. He mumbled something that
sounded like “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied, softly, “just had to use the
bathroom.”

“Kay.”

I waited a couple beats, then added, “I love
you.”

Whether it was to remind myself or because I
felt guilty, I had no clue. Whatever the case, Eric’s only response
was a snore.

“Didn’t you sleep well? You still look
exhausted,” Eric appraised the next morning.

We were seated at the small bistro table that
allowed his kitchen to be considered one of the “eat-in” variety.
The first pot of coffee was still brewing; some sort of a frozen
breakfast casserole was heating in the oven. I had to give him
credit for attempting to be domestic.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve seen me before
I’ve had any caffeine,” I joked half-heartedly. “Plus I think I
just haven’t come down off the adrenaline rush of being here yet. I
just laid awake most of the night, staring at you.”

“How sweet,” he said as he reached across the
table to take my chin in his hand, “I hope I didn’t do anything
embarrassing like drool.”

“Nope. You do snore, though.”

“No way. Maybe just because of the
alcohol?”

“Nobody ever admits that they snore. And in
the rare event that they do, there is always some excuse.
Allergies, a cold, too many beers.”

“I suppose you don’t snore?”

“Never.”

He laughed. The sound was so welcome to my
ears. I needed to push my guilt from last night deep down inside
and enjoy the time we were spending together. I wasn’t about to let
one stupid little dream ruin our weekend. Eric was in such good
spirits it would be a waste to show him how troubled last night had
left me.

“You know how we could resolve that whole
adrenaline problem?”

“Eric,” I whined, “let’s not and say we
did.”

“I’m just saying that the offer still
stands.”

“I’m not going to quit my job now. I like it
there.”

“You don’t have to quit. You can telecommute.
It’s the wave of the future, right?”

“Banks are old-fashioned. Besides, if
telecommuting was a viable option in their opinion, do you really
think they would have made me move to get my promotion?”

“Did you ask?”

“Well, no. But out of the two of us, your
position would be far more suitable for working from home. Half the
time you aren’t even at your office. Maybe we could look for a
place in Fort Wayne.”

He snorted. “Not an option. I need to be in
Indy if I ever want to get noticed. People don’t get promoted if
they are never around corporate.”

“So then we are right back where we started.
At an impasse.”

The oven timer proved to be our saving grace.
After it announced our breakfast was ready, Eric rose from the
table. He busied himself removing the dish from the oven and
dividing the contents out onto our plates. He then poured both of
us cups of coffee from the now ready pot. When he returned to the
table with our meal, all traces of animosity had disappeared.

“I hope you aren’t upset that I made plans
for tonight,” he began simply.

I cut into the casserole and speared a piece
with my fork. To my surprise, it wasn’t half bad. “No, I’m good
with whatever you want to do.”

“Good. I thought I would make the other week
up to you by taking you out to dinner at your favorite place.”

“I wish you would have mentioned it before I
came. I didn’t bring anything even close to being suitable to wear
there.”

“No worries,” he smiled, “we’ve got time for
shopping. And I’m buying. On one condition.”

“Which is?” I asked, intrigued.

“That you pick something that matches
this.”

Out of nowhere, he presented me with a small,
black velvet box. I knew it was jewelry. By the way he slid it
across the table, I knew it wasn’t the piece that I’d been hoping
for. Still, the surprise inside excited me. I picked up the box,
gently lifting the top. The hinge was fairly strong, and the lid
threatened to snap back in place with my timid gesture. I decided
to open it with a flourish instead.

Nestled in the satin lining was a pendant
suspended from a delicate white gold chain. It was crafted in the
shape of an old skeleton key. At the top of the ornate design was a
heart shaped ruby. The rest of the key was accented with diamonds.
As I held it up, the morning sun streaming through the windows
bounced off of the stones, causing them to sparkle.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

Eric rose from the table to come stand at my
side. He took the necklace from me and fastened it around my neck.
When he bent down, the combination of his breath against my skin
and his touch as he worked the clasp made me shiver.

“Something pretty for my pretty girl,” he
whispered in my ear. He trailed kisses up the back of my neck, from
shoulder to hairline.

If I wasn’t swooning already, I definitely
was now. I watched him as he resumed his seat at the table. He
lifted his fork and continued eating breakfast as if nothing had
happened.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So it’s settled then. A
search for a sexy red dress is on the agenda for today.”

I nearly choked on my forkful of casserole.
If only he had come up to Fort Wayne the other week he would have
seen my version of a sexy red dress. Instead, it hung in my closet
as a reminder of a broken promise. Last touched by Matthew, who
seemed to be invading my weekend without actually being here.

“Are you okay?” he asked, full of
concern.

“Yeah. Just went down the wrong pipe. Silly
me.”

Thankfully, he accepted my excuse and the
rest of the meal proceeded without incident. We got ready for our
outing after a quick pit stop in bed. He sat patiently while I
showered and got ready, conversing with me while I occupied the
vanity. He was obviously doing his best to make this the perfect
day. For once, I appreciated his uncanny ability to close a
sale.

Dinner reservations had been made for eight.
This left us with plenty of time to search for the perfect outfit,
shoes included, and return to the condo to get ready. Depending on
how long the task at hand took to complete, we might be able to
sneak in another round of intimacy. Seeing as how it had been quite
a while since we had the opportunity, I planned to shop
quickly.

Eric maneuvered his BMW through the streets
of downtown Indianapolis expertly. Of course, since I was also a
native, I had the same talent. However, Eric was always in control
of things and always drove whenever we were together. I secretly
thought this partially had something to do with the fact that he
would be embarrassed to be seen in my Honda, but kept this to
myself. Besides, it was nice to ride in luxury on occasion. I sunk
into the buttery leather seat and enjoyed the ride.

Without asking, he drove straight to my
favorite boutique. He pulled the car into an impossibly tight
parking spot and we climbed out. As we met at the back of the car,
he took my hand in his and drew me close.

For the next three hours, he was the dutiful
boyfriend. He made no complaints as I tried on dress after dress,
dragging him from store to store. When I earmarked something as a
contender, I would step out of the dressing room. As I modeled for
him, he would provide me with his appraisal. Nothing seemed to meet
his standards. He was looking for perfection, and we hadn’t found
it yet. In my mind, I kept picturing the red dress hanging in my
closet at home. If only he had mentioned our dinner plans before I
left Fort Wayne it would have saved us both a fair amount of
grief.

Just when I was about to give up hope and
suggest a black dress instead, he found it. As soon as he lifted it
up from the rack, I knew it was the one. The color nearly matched
my newly acquired necklace perfectly. It was a bandage style dress
that fit like a glove, low cut enough that the necklace sparkled
against my bare skin. Even though I wasn’t that well-endowed, it
made me look feminine, not boyish. True to his word, Eric insisted
that he foot the bill. I snuck a peek at the price as he paid for
it; even though he didn’t bat an eyelash, I still felt a bit
guilty.

With my new purchase in hand, it was time to
look for shoes. Fortunately, this was a much simpler task. A little
under half an hour later, we were back in the BMW and headed to the
condo.

I looked over at Eric as he drove. His green
eyes were fixed on the road, deep in concentration. He looked more
relaxed than he had in recent memory. I knew this had a lot to do
with me being by his side. We did quite well at balancing each
other; his high-strung tendencies meshed well with my easy-going
demeanor. He made things urgent when I would let them resolve
organically. I told him to back off sometimes and let things run
their course. We made a good team.

If only our respective careers could be
located in the same vicinity, things would be perfect. The majority
of our arguments would disappear. That seemed to be the only thing
we ever fought about. All of our anger stemmed from work-related
complications. To this point, neither one of us had been willing to
compromise.

As the car zoomed through crowded streets, I
closed my eyes and daydreamed. What if I was the one that gave in?
What if I quit the bank and moved in with him? Eric made enough
that he could provide for the two of us, though we might not be
able to afford designer dresses and shoes with any regularity. It
might cramp his style a little bit to have to live on a more
defined budget. Me, I would be fine, but then again I was used to
driving a fifteen year old car. Until recently, I had lived in
nothing more than a shoebox and been happy to call it home.

For me, the money wasn’t the sacrifice. I
would be giving up more abstract things. My job had always been a
source of pride, even before the promotion. I felt an unmistakable
sense of accomplishment when presented with a task that others
would find daunting, only to tackle it handily. I wasn’t afraid of
challenges. The bank had realized this and had carefully groomed me
for the role that I had today. They had believed in my potential,
and it was my goal to prove them right. Leaving shortly after they
had given me everything I had ever wanted from them didn’t seem to
be the proper way to show my appreciation.

Aside from all work related issues, I would
have to give up my new life in Fort Wayne. As much as I had been
scared that I wouldn’t like it, that I wouldn’t fit in, I had taken
to it quite easily. Being the second-largest city in Indiana, it
still retained enough of the big city feel without the traffic
jams. What people complained about there was nothing compared to
rush hour in Indy. Of course, I owed much of that comfortableness
to Blake and Matthew. I seriously doubted that Eric would be happy
if I came back more than occasionally to visit. Perhaps I could
work something out when he was away on one of his many business
trips.