Doctor Paul called me on Tuesday and asked me to dinner. The conversation was okay, and thanks to Jordan’s prodding and my own desire to be proactive—whatever the hell that meant—I agreed to meet him at my favorite Italian restaurant on Friday, figuring worst case, I’d get some tiramisu out of it. Now, fifteen minutes into the date, it was obvious the tiramisu would be the highlight of my evening, and even the promise of really good dessert wasn’t making this worthwhile.
Jordan was right—he was a nice guy. And he was cute—dark hair, brown eyes, decent build that probably would have been more impressive if I hadn’t spent most of my adult life hanging out with fighter pilots who treated working out like a religion. The conversation started out polite and stilted, but the evening quickly devolved into a dissertation of all the things that were wrong with Doctor Paul’s ex-wife. I sat there, beyond uncomfortable, wishing the night would end.
Poor guy. His ex-wife had obviously hurt him when she left, and he definitely wasn’t over it, but he was looking for someone who would identify with what he was going through, someone he could commiserate with, and that wasn’t me. I was on my own now, too, but I couldn’t relate to the stories he told or the anger inside him. I supposed I was angry in an abstract way—not at Michael, but at life. Being a widow was a different manner of loss entirely.
By the time dessert came around, not even the prospect of tiramisu could make me want to extend the date.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” he asked.
“That’s okay. Thanks, though. I should probably get going. It’s late.”
He shot me a look of disbelief, which I’d probably earned considering it was barely 8 p.m.
When the check came, I split it with him, beyond guilty over my lack of interest. I’d tried. I really had. I’d asked him questions, I’d made polite small talk, I’d even dressed up for the occasion. I didn’t feel anything. At all. And no amount of loneliness would ever convince me to settle for anything other than love, not after what I’d had with Michael. And even as I felt guilty being on a date with someone else, he wouldn’t have wanted me to settle, either.
Doctor Paul and I said good-bye outside the restaurant, neither one of us bothering with the façade of making plans for another date, and then I was sliding into my car, grateful I’d decided to meet him there rather than have him pick me up at home.
I called Jordan.
“How did it go?” she answered instead of a normal greeting.
I laughed at the eagerness in her voice. Bad date and all, I appreciated her attempt to help.
“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think we’ll have a repeat performance. He was nice, but not for me.”
“Ugh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I appreciate you setting me up.” The truth was, even though the date was a bust, it was nice to get dressed up, to put on makeup and do my hair. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made an effort with my appearance—not since Michael died, at least—and it felt good to be me again.
“Did you get your tiramisu, at least?”
“Ha. No. By the time dessert rolled around, I was ready to get out of there.”
“Well, don’t go home. I’m at Charley’s with Noah, and Easy’s meeting us here. Why don’t you join us?”
Charley’s was a bar on the right side of the line away from seedy, a favorite with the Wild Aces, an unofficial second home of sorts.
I looked at the clock on my dashboard. It was early, and I wasn’t really in the mood to go home considering I was all dressed up. This was good. This was what I needed to be doing—reintegrating to normal life. I couldn’t hide in my house forever.
“Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Excellent. See you soon.”
We hung up and I drove down Memorial, turning into the familiar parking lot, spotting Noah’s SUV. I didn’t see Easy’s car.
I parked and walked into Charley’s, saying hi to one of the waitresses I recognized, my gaze running over the crowd, searching for Noah and Jordan. I found them at a table by the bar, water in front of Jordan, a beer in Noah’s hands. I hadn’t seen him since he’d gotten back from Korea earlier this week, and I gave him a hug, nostalgia stinging the back of my eyelids. He’d been close with Michael, had been flying with him when he died, and was one of those guys I could count on for anything.
“It’s good to have you back.” I released him, and gave Jordan a quick hug, the bump between us, before sliding into the empty seat next to her.
“It’s good to be back,” he responded with a grin. “How have you been? You look great.”
“Thanks. I’ve been doing well.”
We chatted for a few minutes while they caught me up on what had been going on since he’d returned. They seemed a little frazzled, an air of nervous excitement about them; Noah was only here for a month, and Jordan was due next week. They both looked like they were ready for the baby to come at any moment.
“And how are you feeling, mama?” I asked her.
“Ready to meet her,” Jordan answered with a wry smile. “I haven’t seen my feet in months and I’m running out of clothes that fit.”
“Soon.”
She groaned. “Not soon enough.”
“Well, you look beautiful. And you totally glow.”
Noah grinned, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “I told her the same thing.”
Jordan made a face. “Glow or not, I’m really ready for this baby to come out.”
I laughed. “Fair enough.” I scanned the crowd. “Where’s Easy?”
“He’s on his way,” Noah answered.
Jordan frowned. “He should have been here by now. He was only five minutes away, and I talked to him right after you called.”
I searched the sea of faces again, but no sign of Easy.
“Do you want a drink?” Noah asked me.
The bar was slammed and all the waitresses seemed pretty busy. The downside of coming to a place like Charley’s was that they were usually packed on weekends.
“Yeah, but I’ll go to the bar and get one.”
“I’ll get you a drink,” Noah protested.
“You stay with your wife. I’ll be right back.” I got up before he could protest. “Does anyone else want anything? Jordan, water?”
“I’m okay, but thanks.”
I headed to the bar, fighting my way through the crowd. A few guys stared at me, but I ignored them. Finally, a bartender came and took my drink order.
There was something about the energy in the bar tonight—you could feel the excitement and flirtatiousness—perhaps a tinge of desperation—coming off everyone as they looked for love, or in some cases, entertainment for the night. I felt out of place here among the single and hopeful, pretty sure that particular emotion had run out a long time ago. What would it be like to be one of those women—hell, to feel like a woman again? Tonight when I’d stared at my reflection in the mirror, it had taken a moment for me to adjust to the woman staring back at me, for the first time in the past year actually feeling pretty. I’d lost weight, way more than I probably should have, and I couldn’t deny some of the shine had worn off—the twenty-something-year-old girl who used to smile back at me had been replaced by someone older, her optimism replaced by shadows, and lines, and sadness.
But something about tonight—putting on makeup and a pretty dress—had me slowly returning to the land of the living, and while the guilt was still there, this was a good thing. I was getting somewhere I desperately needed to be.
By the time I got my drink, I spotted Easy sliding into the seat next to Noah.
He looked good. Really good. His usual style was normally pretty casual, but today he’d clearly dressed for a night out—expensive-looking jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his body in all the right places and looked way cooler than a normal tee. His gaze scanned the crowd, and then it settled on me. For a second, he looked at me like he saw me, but didn’t recognize me; he didn’t smile or wave, he merely stared. I looked down at my dress, more than a little self-conscious; maybe I’d gotten the outfit wrong, or it was too sexy, or something, but when I looked back up, the glint in his eyes was gone, and instead I saw the smile I typically associated with Easy.
He stood as I approached the table, the smile growing as he put an arm around me, tugging me against his side.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispered in my ear.
I felt my cheeks heat. He was probably saying it to be nice, but at the same time there weren’t many girls who wouldn’t feel a sense of satisfaction at hearing someone who looked like Easy compliment them.
“Thanks. You, too.” I elbowed him in the side playfully. “We’ve been waiting for you for a while now. What happened, hair emergency?”
He laughed, the sound husky and low. “Not exactly.”
He reached for a white box on the table and handed it to me. “I heard you missed out on tiramisu.”
Ohmigod.
The smile slid from my face. I stared down at the white box in my hands, feeling more than a little silly at the overwhelming urge to cry.
“You went to Carmine’s and picked up tiramisu for me?” I squeaked.
He nodded.
“How did you even know?”
“I talked to Jordan, and she mentioned your date didn’t go so well. I know you; it’s your favorite. I figured you could use some cheering up.”
It was. I was surprised he even remembered, that he cared enough to go out of his way to do something to make me smile. This had to be the sweetest thing anyone had done for me in a really long time.
I fought back tears, not wanting to embarrass him or myself. I leaned up on my toes, pressing my lips to his cheek.
“Thank you.”
His cheeks turned pink. “Anytime.”
The look on her face had me determined to bring her tiramisu every single day. When I’d first walked into the bar and saw her . . .
She was beautiful and sexy no matter what she wore; tonight she’d turned the volume all the way up.
It was hard to imagine her dressed like that for some guy, and all day and night I’d been wondering about her date, torn between wanting it to go well for her and dreading it with every fiber of my being.
When I’d talked to Jordan earlier tonight, she’d been apologetic about the setup, my feelings for Dani the awkward subject everyone danced around. I’d told her not to worry about it, and I’d meant it. I wasn’t pissed she’d set Dani up on a date, just selfishly relieved it hadn’t worked out, and even more pleased to have Dani sitting next to me in that dress, a smile on her face as she ate the dessert I’d brought her.
I avoided Jordan and Noah’s pointed looks; as far as I was concerned, they might as well have not been at the table. We slid into a conversation about Korea, and thanks to my two tours there, it was one I could participate in while still sneaking glances at Dani. I draped my arm around the back of her chair, the devil in me unable to resist the urge to send a couple fuck-off glances in the direction of a few guys who leered too hard. Dani seemed oblivious to all of it, but Noah shot me more and more curious glances until finally he kicked me under the table and told the girls we were going to get drinks at the bar.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asked as soon as we reached the bar.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Are you kidding me? Why don’t you pee on Dani? At this point, that would be less fucking obvious.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Not doing anything? You have your arm pretty much around her—”
“On her chair.”
“You keep glaring at anyone who comes near her.”
“Those guys are being dicks, staring at her tits.”
“You’re staring at her tits.”
“I’m really not in the mood for a fucking lecture,” I snapped.
“Tough shit, you’re getting one. I thought the plan was for you to stay away from her.”
“It was.”
“This isn’t staying away from her.”
“You told me it was a terrible plan when she first came back to Oklahoma. You told me she needed me. That I should be there for her. Yeah, it took me a few months to realize you were right, but that’s what I’m doing—being there for her.”
“It looks like you’re doing a hell of a lot more.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “What do you want me to do? I avoid her and you tell me I’m being an asshole. I try to be her friend and you act like I’m trying to get her to go to bed with me.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Fuck no.”
Fine, maybe he was right; I was basically marking her. And yeah, for all my feigned altruism, I didn’t want to see her with some guy. I’d never had this problem before; when she was with Joker, I’d accepted that she wasn’t mine, that she loved him, that she wouldn’t see anyone else that way. She’d picked Joker, and considering he was one of the best guys I’d ever known, I was okay with it. It made sense. But for some reason, the idea of her moving on, of letting a guy into her life and still not choosing me, hurt in a completely different way and I couldn’t turn it off. It was the fact that she still didn’t see me; married or single, I still wasn’t someone she could love as anything other than a friend, and that fucking burned.
My gaze swept the crowd, settling on a group of girls eying us.
Fuck this.
“You want me to stay away from Dani; fine, I’ll stay away from Dani.”
Noah followed my gaze, a frown settling on his face as he realized my intentions. “That’s not what I’m saying, okay? I’m not saying that at all. Believe me, no one’s happier than I am to see you whoring around less. This isn’t about you; it’s about Dani. I don’t want you to fuck with her feelings; she’s been through enough.”
He was my best friend and one of the few people whose opinions mattered to me most, so his words were a knee to the balls.
“You really think I would hurt her?”
“No.” He sighed. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think you’d hurt her intentionally, but you’re in a different league than she is. She’s spent most of her life married. She’s not up for the game. She’s lonely and she misses Joker, and she’s been through more loss in the past two years than most people experience in a lifetime. I care about her, just like I cared about him, just like I care about you. We all do.”
I knew he came from a good place, but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. We didn’t normally talk about our feelings, but losing Joker had changed all of us. We’d watched one of our bros crash, heard the last words he’d ever uttered, the static over the radio his final good-bye, so yeah, there was more sharing in the Wild Aces than normal.
“I don’t want to see either one of you get hurt,” Noah continued.
“I know.”
“Then be careful, okay? With her and with yourself.”
I nodded. On some level, he was right. I’d been indulging in a fantasy, imagining she was mine, even for a moment, and the truth was, she never would be. I was being the possessive asshole he’d claimed, and I didn’t have a good defense. If I loved her, really loved her, then I’d put her first and that included encouraging her to move on with someone who made her happy and gave her everything she wanted. She should be meeting guys and going on dates, and I should be the type of friend who supported her, not secretly thrilled because her date had blown.
I ordered a beer, self-loathing swirling in my gut as I looked over at the table of girls. My dick was a wet noodle, but I forced my lips into a smile I’d perfected over the years, pushing off from the bar. We—I—needed better boundaries, and the best way to accomplish that was to move the fuck on.
“I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Noah grimaced, his gaze sliding from the girls back to me, the faint hint of disapproval stamped all over his features. “You sure this is how you want to play this? Just because things won’t work with Dani doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to find someone to love.”
For a moment I stopped pretending everything was okay, that loving her wasn’t broken glass slicing through my veins, leaving me bleeding out, that the sheer fucking torture of wanting someone I couldn’t have wasn’t a constant ache that brought me to my knees and made me feel as though I’d broken an unspoken promise.
“Don’t you get it by now? There is no one else. There never will be anyone else. There’s just her.”
“I’m sorry.”
I ignored him; the words escaped me now, the effort of holding them back breaking down with each moment that passed. “I don’t know what to do anymore. She needs me to be her friend; I can’t stay away from her. And I can’t stop loving her.”
The sympathy in Noah’s eyes hurt more than any condemnation could have. I had no shot in hell with Dani and we both knew it.
I headed toward the table of girls, fighting the urge to look over at our table, over at her. He didn’t try to stop me.
I turned in my seat, the sound of Easy’s laughter distracting me from the conversation. He stood holding court a few tables away, surrounded by beautiful women who ate him up with hungry eyes. One woman in particular kept touching him, her hands running over his muscular arms, her body brushing against his side.
I’d been out with Easy enough times that the sight of him chatting up girls was definitely nothing new—hell, I’d heard the story of where his call sign came from and the women who’d inspired it—but something about tonight—
He’d been over there for thirty minutes now, and I had a feeling he wasn’t coming back.
Disappointment filled me.
I didn’t know why it bothered me, especially given his reputation, but it did. Maybe it was how much I’d been looking forward to hanging out with him, and the feeling that he’d found someone more interesting who he’d rather spend time with. It was stupid, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting.
I forced a smile at Jordan and Noah. “I’m going to head out.”
Noah’s gaze darted behind me, then settled back on me, concern flickering in his gaze. “Are you sure?”
I nodded as I stood, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair. “Yeah. I’m getting tired. It’s been a long night.”
I leaned forward and gave Jordan a quick hug. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had fun.”
“Do you need a ride home?” Jordan asked.
I shook my head. I’d had two glasses of wine, but I was okay to drive.
“I’ll walk you out,” Noah offered.
“I’m okay, but thanks. I’ll call you guys later and check in on baby-watch.”
I left them sitting at the table and walked toward the exit, unable to resist a glance at Easy’s table. He still stood next to the same blonde, a laugh escaping at something she said. Even across the room, I could tell his laugh wasn’t genuine. Not really. It was the one he put on sometimes, the one that made it appear he was having more fun than he really was, not the real one that reached his eyes and made his body shake.
I loved his real laugh. There was something comforting in it, something that reassured me that everything would be okay. It was like being engulfed in a bear hug.
Easy froze mid-laugh, his gaze connecting with mine across the crowded bar. His brow quirked, his expression searching, and I pasted a smile on my mouth, the move stiff and unnatural. I considered going over there and saying good-bye, but I couldn’t muster up the desire to deal with Easy and his women. Not tonight. Suddenly, I hated it here—the people, the loud music, the bodies brushing up against one another. I wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and stay there. It was stupid of me to come out, to put on this ridiculous dress, to curl my hair. Those days were so far behind me, and I didn’t belong here. There was a lightness to these people and I was fettered by the weights dragging me down.
Tears rose and I realized I was thisclose to losing my shit. I headed for the door, pushing through the crowds of people.
I’d nearly reached the exit when a warm hand touched my back, above where my dress met skin. I turned and bumped into a hard body. I looked up. Easy stared down at me, his blue eyes filled with worry.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his palm pressing into my skin, his voice louder than normal to be heard over the music.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t. All I wanted was to get the hell out of here without talking to anyone.
“Are you leaving?”
I nodded again.
“You weren’t going to say bye?” His expression looked vaguely hurt by this.
“You seemed busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
He jerked back a bit, surprise etched across his features.
I closed my eyes, a headache coming on. “Sorry. That sounded way less grumpy in my head.”
I opened my eyes in time to see his lips curve into what was definitely his real smile.
“You’re fine.” He stood there, smiling down at me, until I realized we were blocking the exit, his hand splayed on my back. My gaze narrowed as I studied him. Guys weren’t supposed to be beautiful, but he was. His eyes were an ocean shade of blue, made even more impressive by how tan his skin was. His shoulders were so broad he blocked out the rest of the club, his body towering over me. No doubt, he’d make one—or more than one, if the rumors were true—of those girls at the table very happy tonight.
I swallowed, the image of Easy in bed with two girls rearing its ugly head. I’d hung around the guys enough to know shit happened, and it had never bothered me before, but for some reason the idea of Easy in a threesome made me feel a bit ill . . .
I took a step away from him, averting my gaze.
“It’s time for me to head home. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to.” I peered around him to the table of girls watching us with avid interest. “Seriously, I don’t want to take you away from anything.”
He didn’t bother answering me. He reached down between us, taking my hand and tugging me toward the door.
We walked in silence, his grip firm and steady. There was something about Easy, the way he held on to me as though he wouldn’t let me ago, how he scanned the parking lot as if I was someone he wanted to protect, that gave the impression bad shit didn’t go down on his watch.
With each step, the tension drained from my body, my earlier unease disappearing. This was what I’d been looking forward to the whole evening—the simple enjoyment I got from being in his company.
Our steps slowed the closer we got to my car. He released me when I took my keys out of my purse.
I stood there awkwardly, clutching my keys, the little F-16 keychain I’d had for years digging into my palm. I’d been ready to go, but now I was reluctant to get into my car, to go home to my empty house, to the bed I slept in alone. When I was with Easy, it was one of the few times when I experienced some semblance of peace, when I could be myself, and I wasn’t alone.
I wished he’d never gone over to that table, that we’d spent the evening like I’d originally envisioned—just a couple of friends hanging out.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the sounds spilling out from the bar, the noise of the traffic on the street.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m off tonight. It’s been a weird day.”
I didn’t want to tell him the rest of it, felt silly admitting he’d hurt me tonight when he’d abandoned us to get laid—abandoned me to get laid.
His expression changed, his voice growing rougher, his gaze flickering over me. “The date?”
I felt my cheeks flush, choosing the easiest answer over the whole truth. “Yeah. Everything is happening a little quickly for me. It was a big step forward—one I’m not entirely sure I was ready to take.”
He was silent for a beat. “Jordan said it didn’t work out with that guy.”
“It didn’t. He was nice and everything, but there wasn’t any chemistry. I didn’t feel anything, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.”
For the briefest of moments, he reached out and his fingers ghosted across my face, skimming my cheekbone, and I leaned forward, taking the affection he offered.
And then it disappeared.
His hand fell away, the cool night air a slap in the face, swallowing up all the warmth as he stepped back, his expression impossible to read.
The instant his fingers left my skin, my body protested their absence. That sick feeling rolled around in my stomach again, a lump growing in my throat.
Neither one of us spoke.
I felt off-kilter, my emotions all over the place, the weight of tonight overwhelming me.
“I should go.”
Easy jerked his head in a nod, his gaze still hooded, stepping back while I opened the car door and climbed in. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came. I settled on offering him a small smile and a little wave, my hands trembling.
Easy stood there while I locked the doors and turned on the ignition, was still standing there after I waved again and pulled out of the parking lot. I kept my gaze on him standing behind me until he was little more than a speck in my rearview mirror.