| |
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Really, I have no idea.
Wednesday after work, I went to the Hall of Horrors—otherwise known as Libby’s Gifts—to buy amigurumi for Chloe. Fortunately, I didn’t have any nightmares about unicorns or Hello Kitty afterward.
I thought I’d only do something like that for Michelle, but nope, I went there for Chloe, too. When she opened my gift and laughed, I couldn’t contain my joy, and when she shed a few tears as she talked about her mom and her family, there were some painful stirrings in a body part that I think is called a heart.
Which surprised me, because I’ve been accused of not having a heart.
And when she told me how her dad had joked that I’d make a good father, I managed to suppress my urge to run out the door.
That one hit too close to home.
But I zipped my mouth shut and stuffed any retorts deep inside me. I couldn’t stop my body from going rigid, though, and I knew she felt it, but she didn’t say anything.
Chloe is an affectionate person, and I love how she always wants to touch me, even when we’re in public. She seems so...pure.
Not innocent, no, and it’s not like she’s been untouched by suffering, but there’s something about her laughter and delight in the world around her that seems pure to me. I can’t help wanting to spend as much time as I can with Chloe.
Even though I seriously doubt I’m any good for her.
Still, I ask her to stay the night on Thursday, and I ask her to come over again on Saturday after she’s finished work, so I can lose myself in her body.
Sunday, I meet Chloe at Ginger Scoops at seven, planning to take her to a cider bar on Ossington with a nice backyard patio.
My jaw drops when I see her. She’s not wearing jeans and a simple T-shirt, like she usually wears when she’s working. No, she’s changed into a cute sundress, printed with yellow flowers, that skims her knees.
“Ready?” I ask, my voice rough.
“Yep, let’s go drink some cider!”
Frankly, I’d prefer my bedroom. I want to slip those straps off her shoulders and suck on her nipples and do all the activities that people think of when they see eggplant and peach emojis. Or amigurumi.
After she locks the door to Ginger Scoops, I capture her mouth in mine and kiss her deeply. “You look hot.”
She steps back and looks me up and down appreciatively. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
When we reach Spadina, I realize I’m holding her hand. How did that happen? I don’t remember consciously doing it. But it feels right, and I don’t let go.
It’s a little ways to Ossington, but it’s a beautiful night and we decide to walk, holding hands the whole time.
At the cider bar, I ask to be seated on the patio. We get a small table in the corner and each order a flight of four ciders. Our drinks come quickly, but when I lift my first tasting glass to clink it against hers, she’s distracted. She’s looking at a couple of women who just walked onto the patio.
“I slept with her,” Chloe says with a giggle. “The one on the left.”
The woman in question is white, with short pink hair and a nose ring. She has a tattoo snaking up her arm.
“Oh,” I say. “When was this?”
“A couple years.”
Not super recent. Okay.
Admittedly, this is the first time I’ve run into a woman that my date has slept with.
Chloe puts her hand on my cheek and turns it toward her. “Are you jealous? We slept together a couple times, that’s all. It meant nothing.”
It meant nothing. Is she implying that it means something with me? That I’m different? I hope so, even if I’m not sure she should be feeling this way about me.
I’m not jealous. It was a while ago, and it was nothing serious. It would be utterly ridiculous—and hypocritical—for me to expect the woman I’m seeing to have no past. I like that she has one.
But I can’t stand the thought of her seeing anyone else now. Although I’m pretty sure she isn’t, I want to be clear on the matter.
“I want to be exclusive,” I blurt out. “I want you to be mine. Only mine.”
She puts her hand on my knee. “I’d like that, too.”
I can hardly believe this is happening. I’m having drinks with a beautiful woman, and she wants to be with me.
Me, the villain of Embrace Your Inner Ice Cream Sandwich.
“Is this just because I’m amazing in bed?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she says. “Stop being so insecure and cocky at the same time. I don’t know how you manage that combination.”
I pick up one of my small glasses of cider and lift it in her direction with a smirk.
This is all a bit too good to be true, but for now, I’ll just enjoy it.
I have a sip of the first cider. It’s tart and refreshing and—
“Drew?” It’s a woman’s voice. Although it’s vaguely familiar, I can’t place it. “Or should I say Marvin?”
I turn around and see Lisa’s best friend, Rhiannon. Her lips are thin and twisted unkindly. The last time I saw this woman, it was at the wedding that never happened, and she was wearing a bridesmaid dress.
Yeah, it looks like this evening was too good to be true after all.
As I’m sitting there slack-jawed, Chloe holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Chloe. Drew’s girlfriend. Nice to meet you.”
Girlfriend.
Rhiannon doesn’t bother shaking her hand. “I can’t believe you have a girlfriend,” she says to me instead.
I can’t quite believe it either, but I don’t let on that I feel this way.
“Ohhh,” Rhiannon says. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
I never liked Rhiannon. She was one of those mean girl types, and I’m not sure what Lisa saw in her.
“Know that he’s the inspiration for Marvin Wong?” Chloe says. “Yes, I’m aware of that. I read the book.”
Rhiannon seems taken aback. “Right.”
Her companion—a man who was her boyfriend three years ago and could be her husband now—says nothing but rests his hand on her waist.
“Alright, we better be going,” Rhiannon says. “You kids have fun. But, Chloe, I suggest you don’t make the same mistake as my best friend.”
As soon as she walks away, I chug one of my little glasses of cider.
“Hey.” Chloe rests her hand on my knee. “Don’t let it ruin our night. I honestly don’t care what your ex and her friends think of you.”
“Maybe you should,” I say, picking up the next glass of cider. “I don’t understand why it doesn’t bother you. There are tons of men or women you could date who weren’t left at the altar and didn’t turn out to be the villain in a bestselling memoir.”
“It’s just bad luck that it happened to you.”
“It’s not simply bad luck.”
“I called you the inspiration for Marvin because I suspect it wasn’t entirely accurate. Lisa said you were grouchy, and okay, I can see her point, though you’re really not that bad. But you’re not a bastard who’s crushing my spirit and melting my inner ice cream sandwich.” She shakes her head. “God, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m serious, though. I like being with you, Drew, and I don’t feel like you’re stopping me from reaching my full potential, like Lisa seems to believe. Maybe you were different with her—it was several years ago. Maybe you weren’t well suited. Maybe she exaggerated to make a better story.”
I look down. “She did overstate things a bit, but...” I take a deep breath, and I tell Chloe my deepest fear. “Even if the details aren’t all correct, I can’t help wondering, ‘What if she’s right?’ I think she might be right about me as a person. I bring others down. I’m not a great boyfriend.”
I don’t mention the thing that haunts me the most, but still, I’m surprised I admitted as much as I did.
“She isn’t,” Chloe says.
How can she speak with such conviction? She hasn’t known me all that long.
“For example,” she continues, “you might not like ice cream, you might not exactly understand my desire to run an ice cream shop, but you’ve never discouraged me. On Thursday night, after I had dinner with my family, you were supportive, as I knew you would be. Beneath that slightly surly exterior, you’re kind and thoughtful. I haven’t had...” She swallows. “I haven’t had a relationship like this in a long time. It’s not like I can open up to everyone.”
I release the breath I was holding.
“Do you believe me?” she asks, concern in her beautiful face.
I nod.
I do believe her, kind of. I feel better now, though I’m not fully convinced.
But I won’t bombard her with my insecurities any further.
Just my luck that in a large city, we somehow ran into a former bed partner of Chloe’s and my ex-fiancée’s best friend in the same night.
* * *
We stay on the patio until ten o’clock, and then we walk back to my place. Now that the sun has gone down, it’s cooling off, and I rub Chloe’s arms to warm them up. She laughs.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Don’t worry about me.”
And then she kisses me in the middle of the sidewalk.
At home, I push down the straps of her dress, as I’ve been longing to do all evening, and take her nipples into my mouth. My hand slides up her leg, and I pleasure her until she’s trembling in my arms.
Then I do it again. And again.
And then I push inside her.
Afterward, Chloe falls asleep quickly, but I stay awake. For three years, I almost never shared a bed with someone, so this past week has been quite a change. I’ve generally been sleeping well, but tonight is different. Tonight, my fears from earlier return.
What if I’m bad for her? I couldn’t bear it if I drove the spark from her eyes, the spring from her step, and I fear that’s what a man like me would inevitably do.
Then there’s the issue of children. I know it’s too early to be thinking about that, but I can’t help it. I suspect Chloe wants children. And I...
Well.
Marvin Wong would make a horrible father.
That’s what Lisa wrote in her book.
I finally fall asleep, only to have another vaguely disturbing dream about unicorns.