Separation Anxiety (3 page)

I chewed like a horse on my food, my mouth stuffed full.
Jesse grinned over at me, and then he brought his finger to my mouth, wiping a little excess sour cream from the side of my lip. I briefly closed my eyes and sighed through my food, and then I saw him lick the sour cream off of his fingers. It was far more intimate a moment than should have been shared between two friends, and I felt myself melt a little further into my chair as my eyes widened. I glanced across the table and saw Quinn, her mouth hanging open at the exchange.

I finished chewing my food and swallowed, and then I followed it with a giant gulp of my drink.

Before I knew it, my potato skins were gone and my drink was empty. Suddenly I had the strong urge to pee.

“Excuse me,” I said, leaving my purse and my phone at the table. Quinn got up and followed me.

“What’s going on?” she asked once we were in the safety of the restroom behind closed doors. I checked under the stalls to be sure we were alone.

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently, and then I headed into a stall to do my business while Quinn took the empty stall next to me.

“With you and Delicious Drake?”

“Nothing’s going on, Quinn. I’m married for Christ’s sake.”

“How is the old ball and chain? You haven’t talked about Racy Richard in forever.”

Quinn never made it a secret when she thought someone was hot, my nearly ex-husband apparently included.

“He’s fine.”

“What’s he up to on this fine Friday?”

“Hell if I know,” I muttered. I finished up and flushed, and I heard her flush a few seconds later. We met at the sink.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I don’t know what he’s up to. I just know I’m here at happy hour and having fun. What are your plans after this?”

“Meeting Caleb,” she said, grinning. Caleb was her current fuck buddy (“and nothing more,” so she claimed).

“No nickname for Caleb yet?” I asked.

She grinned. “Cock-a-licious?”

“Nice,” I said with a smirk. “More info than I needed. But you kids have fun.”

“You and Richard have big plans for the weekend?”

I thought about that. I doubt she meant filing for divorce, but that had suddenly become my weekend plan. To answer her question, I shook my head, inspecting my face in the mirror and wiping away a tiny smudge of eyeliner.

“Nope,” I said. “Grading papers, maybe.”

“That sounds like a lame ass weekend.”

“Tell me about it,” I said with a sigh.

We headed back out, and my heart did a little flip flop and my breath got stuck somewhere in my esophagus when I saw Jesse stretch in his chair, the hem of his shirt rising up just a little to reveal the bottom of what looked like a perfect washboard stomach. I thought I spotted some ink, too, but it was hard to tell from my quick glance. But a tattoo? On Jesse Drake? Yes please.

I was in serious trouble.

“Jesus Christ,” Quinn said, apparently having spotted the same sight as me. She sighed. “Too bad I don’t sleep where I work, or I’d have to give that a try,” she said. Funny how the one limit she set was the one thing I was suddenly obsessing over.

I settled back into my chair. Jesse draped his arm across the back of my chair and leaned in toward me. “I ordered you another,” he said, that sexy edge to his low voice back in full force.
His scent invaded my senses. He wore a hint of some sort of masculine cologne that was fresh and reminded me of Christmas at the same time. It smelled like winter and pine and sex.

“Thanks,” I managed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I spotted a fresh drink in front of me. I took a sip. “
Single or double?”

“Double,” he said
, a scandalous smile spreading across his features.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked, pressing the boundaries just a little further than I probably should have and definitely a little further than I would have if I was sober.

“Sure. Why not? Then I’ll take you home to that two first name husband of yours.”

It was strange that he suddenly mentioned my husband in the midst of the air thick with sexual
tension between us, and all it served to do was snap me back to reality. While I was enjoying my time with Jesse, I was aware that it would never go past flirting. Even if he was a player, he seemed like a good guy. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would hook up with a married woman, even if I suddenly wanted it like I wanted the next sip of my vodka drink.

Reese
, one of the English teachers, asked Tami for her bill, and a few others followed suit. The first few teachers left, and it was down to the typical core group who always stayed latest: Quinn, Avery, and me from the English department, Kevin and Dane from Social Studies, and Jesse. Avery and Kevin had been flirting back and forth for as long as I had known them, and I knew someday they would eventually hook up (if they hadn’t already… Avery had a bit of a reputation). Dane and Quinn had co-taught lessons before, so they had plenty to talk about. That left Jesse’s attention on me.

Everyone
was too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice what we were talking about. I chanced a glance over at Quinn to make sure just as she threw her head back and laughed at something Dane had said.

“So, Mrs. Thomas, what are you up to this weekend?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Probably grading essays,” I said.

“That sounds so exciting.”

“It’s February. We’ve got three months of school left. I have to do it sometime.”

“Do you have plans for the summer?” he asked.

I shrugged. I did; I was planning to pack my shit and find a new place to live, but I wasn’t ready to reveal that over happy hour drinks.

I took another gulp of my drink. “Not sure yet,” I said after I swallowed. “You?”

“I only get June off, really, and then I’m back to the grind with scheduling. But every summer I take a road trip.”

“Where are you off to this year?” I asked.

“I’m heading down to Mexico for a couple weeks, and then I’m going to drive up through California wine country.”

“Sounds romantic. Taking someone special?” I asked, suddenly jealous both of him for going on what sounded like an amazing adventure and of whatever slut of the month he was taking with him.

He shook his head. “Actually, I usually travel alone. Good way to decompress after a long school year. I’ll probably check in with some friends in California, and I have a buddy meeting me in Mexico for a few days, but otherwise, I’m heading out alone.”

Something sparked inside of me at that thought. I liked that he wasn’t taking a romantic trip with someone else even though it wasn’t my place to feel that way.

Tami came by, and Jesse and I each ordered another. And then Quinn, Kevin, Avery, and Dane all asked for their checks.

I guess that meant Jesse and I would be alone for our last drinks.

It suddenly felt like a date, and I didn’t mind one bit.

“You need a ride?” Quinn asked from across the table.

“I can take her,” Jesse jumped in before I could answer.

Quinn raised her eyebrows at me, and I nodded my consent. Of course it was fine if he took me home. Obviously I wasn
’t driving home, not after four vodka drinks.

“Thanks for the offer,” I said to Quinn, and she came over and gave me a hug before leaving.

And then there were two.

CHAPTER 2

“Are you really doing okay?” he asked after Tami dropped off our drinks, staying a little longer than necessary and dipping her breasts a little closer to Jesse than I would have preferred.

I shook my head. I don’t know why, but suddenly I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to confess the shit I’d been going through on my own for the last year.
And those pricks hit the backs of my eyes again, but this time, gulping down my drink didn’t stop them.

“No. I’m not.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, somehow scooting his chair closer to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I allowed him to comfort me as I cried into him for a moment, loving the way his arm felt around me, strong and warm and caring. It had been well over a year since I felt like a man cared about me.

“
I’m getting a divorce,” I said. It was the first time I had ever said it out loud to another person.

I heard him take in a sharp breath. My mind was foggy from all of the vodka, but his chest rose quickly, and then he backed up a bit and looked at me. His thumb brushed against my cheek.

“What happened?” he asked, that beautiful hand of his running back through those gorgeous wisps of hair. The more I drank, the more I found myself staring at that dark hair, wondering what it would feel like between my own fingers.

“A lot,” I said, smiling sadly through the tears that wouldn’t stop now. “We sort of grew apart right after we got married, and things have been going straight downhill ever since.”

“Is there someone else?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. We’ve both been faithful, but he has hurt me more times that I can count, and I can’t forgive him for it anymore.”

His eyes darkened. “Has he…” he trailed off, but I knew where he was going.

“No,” I said immediately, and I saw a flash of relief in Jesse’s eyes. “He’
s never hurt me physically. We’re just… different people than we were when we got married. We’ve grown apart, and there’s no salvaging it.”

“Irreconcilable differences?” he asked, and I
nodded ruefully, picking my drink back up and playing with the straw.

“I always thought that was such a copout, but now that it’s me, it’s actually pretty accurate.”

“I’m sorry, V,” he said. His eyes were dark and sincere.

“Thanks, Jesse.”

“How long have you known?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer as we both settled back into our chairs. Jesse crossed one leg over the other, one ankle resting on his other knee as he leaned back and drank his beer.

The view wasn’t too shabby.

“That I’m getting divorced?” I asked, the words still feeling strange falling out of my mouth.

“That there were differences that couldn’t be reconciled
.”

“A year. Maybe more.”

“What happened a year ago that made you realize that?”

“
There isn’t one big thing, but what it comes down to is that I think we just fell out of love. Or maybe we never had that love in the first place; I don’t know. I know I don’t miss him when we’re apart, and I don’t think he misses me, either,” I said, realizing that I was rambling. I took another sip of my drink, and then I continued. “He’s become unrecognizable to me. He isn’t the Richard I fell in love with anymore. He runs around with a new group of friends and they’re all assholes, and he’s become one, too.

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “We tried couples counseling, but it didn’t work. We tried a lot of different things, but you’re the first person I have ever told.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You haven’t talked to anybody about this?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “Talking about it makes it real. We’re just separated right now.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Yes. I am positive. I’ve been living in limbo for a year, and it’s time to take the next step. I can’t keep living like this anymore. We haven’t officially filed for divorce, but I’m planning to fill out the papers this weekend and get everything filed early next week.”

“Do you need some help?” he asked.

“Yeah. You could print the papers for me so all I have to do is fill them out,” I said sarcastically, thinking about how all it would take for me to print the papers was to actually go to the website and locate them. It couldn’t be hard, but it was just one of those steps that seemed harder to take than it actually would be.

He chuckled, a
nd then both of our drinks were suddenly empty.

“You want another?” he asked, nodding toward my glass.

I shook my head. “I shouldn’t.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
“You ready to head home?” he asked.

I nodded reluctantly. I didn’t want to go home. Richard would be there, and I didn’t want to be reminded of the difficult tasks I had lying ahead of me. While we’d both known for awhile that it was over, actually ending it with that final cut of ties wasn’t going to be easy. Ending a relationship was never easy, but ending a marriage was completely different than dumping a boyfriend. No matter who you were, it cut and it hurt.

We paid our bills and headed out to Jesse’s truck. He drove one of those enormous Ford F fifty somethings, and something about that truck screamed sexy sensuality, just like the man who drove it. He opened the passenger door for me, and I stepped onto the running board and pulled myself up into the front passenger seat. He shut the door behind me, and as he walked to the driver’s side, I don’t know why, but suddenly I burst into tears.

He
gracefully jumped up into the driver’s seat and gazed over at me, and then he reached across the armrest and put his arm around my shoulders again.

“I’m sorry,” I managed out through my tears.

Were those his lips brushing against my temple? Surely I imagined that, but his intimate comfort only made me cry harder.

“Don’t cry, V.
I’ve got you,” he cooed, his soothing voice helping me to feel better as he rubbed my back. I didn’t want to go home. It didn’t feel like home anymore. It felt like a prison where I was confined to one side of the house while my soon-to-be-ex was confined to the other. We did everything we could not to cross paths, and going home meant having to face the inevitable awkward tension.

I couldn’t believe I was crying, for the second time that night, in front of Jesse Drake. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the vodka or because of the confession I’d unleashed on him, but it felt
cathartic to cry and even more cathartic to have someone like Jesse providing the comfort through my tears.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said, an
d I nodded. My eyes followed him as my tears started to dry, and I saw him walk back into the bar. I watched as he looked around for a moment, and then I saw Tami walk up to him and put her arms around his neck. He backed up a little and said something to her. She looked angry, and then he turned and left. I averted my eyes so he wouldn’t know I had watched the whole encounter, curiosity burning in my mind about what he’d just said to her.

He got back into the car and quietly started the engine, turning down the radio so low that I could barely hear it. He started driving toward my place. I was curious how he knew where I lived, but he never asked. As we approached my neighborhood, I gathered my purse from the floor and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was awaiting me.

But we drove right past my neighborhood. “I live back there,” I said, pointing my thumb behind us.

“Well I live up here,” he countered.

What?

“What?” I put voice to the question in my head.

“I’m not taking you to your house. You need someone to talk to, and you obviously need a night away from your almost ex. I’ve got extra space, and you might be aware that I have a degree in counseling, so I’m taking you home with me.”

My heart pounded, and then I felt
a deep, aching throb start to form between my legs.

He was taking me home?

He was taking me home!

Holy shit!

I was going to Jesse’s house.

I was going to sleep in Jesse Drake’s bed.

Well, technically a guest bed that belonged to Jesse Drake.

Same difference.

“It’s okay, Jesse. You can take me to my house.” My argument was weak, but I knew I had to put one up anyway.

“Forget about it. You’re com
ing with me.”

We continued about five more miles in comfortable silence. He hummed softly with the radio, the throaty rasp of his deep timber awakening feelings that had been long dormant inside of me, and then we pulled into his driveway. His home was a beautiful and modest ranch. I could tell from the outside that he was meticulous and neat, but, then, I could tell that from his desk at work, too. His yard didn’t boast a single weed, and his trees and bushes were trimmed skillfully. He pulled into a garage lined neatly with bookcases and shelves that had boxes and tools stacked in a precise order.
Two mountain bikes hung from hooks screwed into the ceiling. A workbench lined one side of the garage, and I spotted wood on it that looked like some sort of work in progress.

He cut the engine and we both opened our doors to get out. I hopped down and pushed my door closed, and then I swung my purse over my shoulder.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the workbench on my way by, taking it all in.

“Eventually it’ll be an end
table for my mom,” he said, and if I’m not mistaken, I thought I saw a sweet pink shade stain his cheeks.

“You build tables?” I asked stupidly.

He shrugged. “I build furniture,” he said. “I’m good with wood.”

I giggled at his innuendo, and he grinned.

“I only work on this stuff when I have spare time, which, as you know, isn’t much,” he said.

“All the girls you’re entertaining?” I teased.

The sweet pink in his cheeks deepened just a touch, and I saw him run his hand through his hair. I wondered how many times a day he did that, because I noticed him doing it a lot. It was a sexy little habit. “I just meant because of my job that keeps me busy, but I suppose my reputation precedes me.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid for blurting that
out and knowing I’d have censored myself a little better if I hadn’t had all that vodka. Fucking vodka.

I took a closer look at the piece of wood on the workbench. It had some intricate carving in what would become the top of the table once he put it together. I ran my fingertips across it, impressed with his woodworking abilities that I had known nothing about. I enjoyed peeling back a layer to the mystery that was Jesse Drake. “This is gorgeous,” I breathed.

He ignored my compliment. “Let’s head in,” he said, guiding me with his hand on the small of my back. It was another intimate exchange between us that was easily played off by friendship, but it didn’t stop me from wanting something more to happen. We entered through a mudroom that was neat and tidy and into a hallway that led to the kitchen.

My breath left me in a whoosh as I took in his perfect kitchen. It looked like one of those kitchens you saw in a magazine or on the Food Network.

I loved to cook. I loved to experiment and play with food or try new recipes, but the kitchen I shared with Richard didn’t have much room for experimentation.

This kitchen, however, was a dream.

He had black marble countertops and white cabinets. A huge, oversized island graced the center of the room with a porcelain sink sunken into the counter. The kitchen opened to a great room, and the dark gray sectional couch pointed at a huge flat screen television was the perfect complement to the black and white kitchen. The entire room was filled with a neutral travertine tile.

He had one of those double sub zero refrigerators built right into the wall, the outside of the fridge matching the cabinets. The gas range was also oversized and a stainless steel hood hovered above it. All of the appliances in his kitchen matched the hood.

I imagined the listing for the house when he bought it, and I was certain that it said, “A chef’s dream.”

“Like it?” he grinned.

“Huh?”

“You just moaned and closed your eyes when you looked at my kitchen,” he said, and I swore I saw him discreetly adjust himself.

“It’s amazing, Jesse,” I smiled. “I moaned? I just love to cook and I’ve never seen a kitchen quite like this one.”

“I also love to cook,” he said. Yet another layer peeled away. So not only was he gorgeous, but he worked with kids, he was good with wood, and he liked to cook. Why was this man still single?
“That’s why I designed the kitchen this way.”

“You designed this?” I asked, surprised.

He nodded. “I saw something like it in a magazine once. Ready for the tour?” he asked, and I nodded. The kitchen that opened into the family room was not his home’s only extravagance. He had an office that was filled with memorabilia, two guest bedrooms, each with their own full bathroom, a dining room, a living room up at the front of his house with what looked like a pretty kickass pool table, and the master suite.