Romantic Interludes Part 16

"Sure, I'd like that," he said, giving me one of his panty-soaking grins.

I melted. "Okay, good." This felt good. It felt right.

"I'll see you later, then."

"Later."

I didn't understand why I was so nervous. I sat in my apartment, waiting for Mitch with a flock of b.u.t.terflies swarming in my stomach. Maybe the risk of finding out the truth kept me on edge. Confirmation of him cheating on me would put the final nail in the coffin of our relationship, and despite Ike's sage advice to take chances in love, I didn't think I could come back from yet another betrayal.

Part of me felt embarra.s.sed by my display at work. If it wasn't evident to Mitch that I had deep feelings for him based on my reaction to this situation, he hadn't been paying attention very well. I rarely lost my mind, yet I'd freaked out so badly, almost every person I worked with had noticed.

More so than all of that, there resided a thrill of excitement deep within me that had me feeling hopeful. It was powerful and raw and so unexpected, but it was more present than anything else churning in my heart and mind. Hope that I had misunderstood and we could be together again. Hope that the future by his side I'd painted in my head could not only be possible but a reality. Hope that Mitch hadn't betrayed me but that he loved me, too.

A knock at the door stopped the breath in my throat. After a few moments, I took the first step toward my answers.

"Hi."

"Hey, you look beautiful." Mitch stood there with those dark eyes and that s.e.xy smirk.

"Thanks. Come in." He took a few steps into my home and the familiar smell of his cologne sparked memories of heated nights between the sheets. I'd missed him more than I'd allowed myself to admit.

"I didn't know if you'd eaten, so I picked up some takeout on the way home," I said, gesturing toward the table in my makeshift dining area.

Mitch pulled off his thick leather coat. "Um, sure. Sounds good. You didn't have to go to the trouble, though."

"No trouble. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Try to make up for my behavior."

"Well, I appreciate it, but you still didn't have to." He sat down at the table, and I followed his lead.

"I know."

"How are you holding up after today? You looked pretty shook up." Mitch served himself a healthy helping of curry.

"I'd just been talking to him, you know? I don't think I'll ever get used to that happening." The horrible events flashed quickly through my mind, pausing on the kind eyes of my elderly psychotherapist. When his heart stopped, mine broke to pieces.

"I'd hope not. It comes with the territory, working in emergency, but I'd hope we'd never become apathetic when somebody's close to dying."

"I think I'd have to switch careers if that happened."

"Me, too." A couple moments of silence lapsed as we enjoyed our food.

Finally, I had to put it all out there. "I'm really sorry for not returning your calls."

"Yeah, what was that about?" Mitch set his fork down, giving me his undivided attention.

I followed suit. "I was at the restaurant having lunch with Mandy. I saw you on your date," I said plainly.

Mitch had left my apartment that morning after a wonderful night with a promise to call me as soon as he finished a lunch date with his college roommate, Gary. I'd spent the morning in my bed with the sheets still smelling of him, reliving every second of our time together. My best girlfriend's call broke me out of my reverie, and after heavy coaxing from her, I made a plan to meet her for lunch around two.

The moment I saw him, my blood turned to ice in my veins. Mitch sat across from a beautiful blonde who laughed and cooed at his affections in a private booth in the back. I ignored Mandy's questions as I watched him.

Nothing could've prepared me for that shock, not even my experience with Jonathan, who paled in comparison to Mitch in every sense of the word. I trusted Mitch more than I trusted John from the very beginning, yet I found myself in an achingly familiar way. I had to escape.

That night, I ignored his phone calls. I didn't answer the following day, either.

Now, Mitch knew why I'd avoided him for so long. And though I had hoped it had been a misunderstanding, the fact that he hadn't jumped in to explain had that small inkling of hope recessing back into wishful thinking.

"I'd just figured you didn't want to tell me for some reason. I mean, I know that we'd only been seeing each other for a couple months and we'd never really talked about being exclusive. It just surprised me, and I didn't know how to handle it."

"Christine . . . the woman I was out to lunch with is my friend from college. Her name is Garie."

"What?"

"That was her. She's been my best friend since we were at Cal Poly, and she was in town for the weekend. Look, see?" He handed me his phone to show me the contact card of Garie Pealson and the avi showed a picture of Mitch and the same blonde I'd seen with him at the restaurant.

"But you said Garie had been your roommate."

"She was. We shared a studio our junior and senior year. She's like a kid sister to me."

"Oh."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about making sure you knew she was a woman." Mitch stood from his chair and came to kneel beside me. "I mean, I thought I had. I guess I'd never realized it might cause a problem before."

"No, it's not a problem. I just a.s.sumed . . ." I thought he'd found something with someone else.

"You a.s.sumed I was like John."

I looked up at him, blinking away the tears. "Yes."

"I'm sorry, baby." Mitch picked me up from the chair and pulled me close to his chest. "I didn't think."

"No, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you." I let all the emotions go I'd kept locked away inside me. My body wracked with sobs, causing Mitch to hold me closer. "I let my insecurities cloud my j-judgment."

"Anyone would have, baby. I'm so freaking sorry."

"But you are nothing like John," I told him, and meant every word of it. He had a sweeter heart, a kinder disposition, and he treated me so well.

"You're right, I'm not." Mitch brushed the hair away from my face and cupped both cheeks. I stared up at him. "I love you, Christine."

"You do?" My lip trembled.

He smoothed the pad of his thumb over the soft skin to calm me. "Very much."

"I love you, too," I cried, throwing myself into him. He felt so good, I found myself desperate for the warmth and the security his arms provided. The reality of what I'd almost done hit me hard. Due to my stupid pride, I'd almost allowed a misunderstanding to come between me and the man of my dreams. Mitch hadn't lied to me. The doubt and second-guessing had been my undoing. That had been the lie.

"Stupid pride," I mumbled against his shirt.

"What?" Mitch laughed, pulling back to look me in the face.

I smiled. "Nothing. Just kiss me."

"Anything, baby." Mitch leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Every anxiety disappeared and I allowed his soothing comfort and surety to wrap around me like a salve to my heart. His intentions were pure, and the lies were nothing but a misunderstanding. In truth, I'd turned out to be my own worst enemy, for as a wise man once said, "We were not made to love with amour around our hearts."

Legacy of a Dreamer by Allie Jean Category: Fantasy Publication date: May 3, 2012 ISBN (paper): 978-1-61213-040-8 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-61213-041-5 Summary: Chantal Breelan is plagued by horrible nightmares too realistic to ignore. Her past has been a mystery, and the foster system isn't providing any answers. Starting a new life alone at eighteen is a challenge, especially when things that go b.u.mp in the night appear out of the shadows, and her dreams begin to breach reality. Darkness surrounds her from all sides, but is it only evil that hides in the shadows, or are the answers to her past lingering just beyond?

Coming October 2013 Dreamer Series, Book 2 by Allie Jean Disclaimers: All email/screen names are not intended to belong to any person and are used fict.i.tiously. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Additionally, I make no claims that the train lines still run in the way they did when I mapped this out. ~sl December 15th "MISTER?"

Gunnery Sergeant Justin Clark, USMC, smiled at the boy who held the brand-new toy in his hand. "Yes?" He nodded at the boy's mother, too, who stood a couple paces away. "Can I help you?"

"You're a soldier?"

"I'm a Marine."

"Give him the toy, Blake." She was focused entirely on her son and wasn't trying to flirt with Justin himself-something that happened often enough to make him a little paranoid when he was in uniform representing his unit and the Corps.

Blake handed him the box with the popular animated character on it and Justin thanked him with sober appreciation. "Someone will have a much happier Christmas because of you," he a.s.sured the lad.

"Me, too," Blake said with a gap-toothed smile. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Marine!"

Justin smiled as the boy and his mom walked away, a spring in their step he had seen a lot that day. The Bible said it was more blessed to give than to receive, and sometimes Justin got to see evidence of that in the most innocent of ways.

It was the final day for donations of gifts to Toys for Tots. As one of the single Marines stationed at the Barracks at 8th and I in Washington, D.C., "Gunny Clark," as he was sometimes called, did perhaps more seasonal community service than some of the Marines in his unit, but that was fine with him. He had blown it with the only woman he had ever cared for a long time ago and compensated for not having a wife and children by helping the families of others. In his dress blues and ribbons, he was in Elkridge, Maryland, comfortably out of the wind as he stood post near the enormous box that held an ever-increasing collection of new, unwrapped toys.

The sliding doors to the store opened for a small girl with dark red hair. "Mom! We made it before they closed!" Her enormous gray eyes glowed with pleasure and Justin had an unsettling jolt of deja vu. He had known someone with eyes just like that.

And there she was.

"Hannah. Wait a minute for your mom, will ya?"

Standing not ten feet away from him was the girl that got away. She was about five and a half feet tall and had a white knit cap pulled low over golden brown hair. It framed her oval face with high cheekbones. His vision constricted and his breath came fast as he stared, transfixed, into amused gray eyes that he hadn't seen in person for more than ten years.

"April? April Peterson?" He couldn't move. "Really?"

"Sinclair," she corrected as if distracted. "This is so wacked," she whispered, borrowing a term popular when they'd been teenagers. Her eyes narrowed with some kind of emotion he didn't allow himself to try to decipher. After darting a glance to her daughter, April straightened up and smiled politely. "Justin Clark. It has been a while."

Swallowing a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, he nodded. "Ten years?"

"You remember?" Her voice was aloof, but her eyes were sharp. As if she were a marksman intent on her target.

She was at least as accurate as a sharpshooter. The pain her words brought him was immediate, but he was trained to overcome pain and continue with the job. Which was, right now, collecting toys.

He nodded quickly. "I do." Turning to the little girl, he mustered a smile. "So, you've brought a toy for someone?"

The girl held up a boxed LeapPad. "This! It's for a boy or girl, so that no one feels weird opening it. I have one and I know someone else would want one." She handed it to him with both arms outstretched and then c.o.c.ked her head. "You know my mom?"

He'd faced his country's enemies over a field of battle. He'd helped establish bases in hostile territories and had confronted death on behalf of his men. Somehow, all that those experiences had taught left him in the heartbeat it took to look at April.

"Our moms are friends," April said, brushing her daughter's black beret with her hand. "And Mr. Clark and I used to be pen pals."

It was the entire truth of the matter, but his heart twisted anyway. Keeping his expression parade-neutral, Justin acknowledged April's statement with a nod. "For years, yes." He met April's eyes again. "I never got to congratulate you on your marriage."

April and her daughter drew closer to one another, their gloved hands clasped with a mutual love and protection that warmed him, despite his inner turmoil. He wanted to look away, to give them a moment of privacy-something told him it would be right-but he couldn't.

"John pa.s.sed away last year, Justin," April said quietly. "Didn't your mom tell you?"

"No, and I'm so sorry." He was, too, as it happened. "Please accept my condolences."

She nodded and relaxed somewhat, shifting booted feet and pursing her lips to blow out a breath. A family of five moved around the Toys for Tots display, heading back into the chilly evening and allowing a gust of air to sweep into the store and blow April's hair around her shoulders. It had always been shorter when they were in high school, but she'd let it grow over the years. "Of course."

She looked about to leave and Justin's gut clenched. He wanted to say something, anything, but he had forfeited that right years ago. G.o.d? Help? he prayed, keeping his face polite and impa.s.sive.

Help came in the form of a small, red-haired girl who sighed a little before breaking into a hopeful smile as she repeated, "So you know my mom? She says I have to make new friends. I'm glad she already has a friend here."

"Hannah!" April's protest sounded more embarra.s.sed than anything. Her blush splashed in two circles high on her cheeks. "Justin, I'm sorry. I-"

Holding up a hand, he silently gave thanks for the opportunity. "You do have a friend here, you know. Even if it's been a while." When she didn't protest, he thought fast. "Let me give you my email address, okay? Drop me a line when you can."

"O-okay, sure," she said slowly.

He turned and grabbed a piece of scratch paper from the display table and wrote out his email address. She put her own on another piece. He couldn't believe it. She was right there. She was apparently willing to reconnect and Justin prayed that he'd manage not to blow it this time.

Careful words framed their parting and Justin put his memories at bay as the final few donors came in to share a little Christmas joy with children they didn't even know. He allowed himself to think only of the changes he had seen in April. The ways in which her daughter looked like her, and he couldn't help but wonder what Hannah might have looked like if- If he'd answered that question April had asked him years ago.

September 22, 2002 "Oh, G.o.d." Justin sat on his new bunk, head in his hands, and tried to sort through what he should do. Because returning home from his first deployment wasn't hard enough, right?

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Hey, Justin! Congrats on the promotion. It came really fast, but I know you totally deserve it. My job's going great, thanks. I know I just started, but I feel really good about this year, you know? Teaching seventh grade is harder than I thought it would be, but I like the kids more than I expected. We'll see how I feel by Christmas break!

So, I had a thought. Next time you're home on leave, can I pick you up? You know, as long as we've known each other, we've never really spent time together. Like, a day just for the two of us. Can we do that?

I'm making an actual grown-up salary now, so it'll be my treat. :) Keep your head up, guy. Hope to hear from you soon!

~April A date with April. He swore softly and leaned back to hit his head on the wall.

She was the girl he'd fantasized about since they were sixteen and had their first family-barbecue argument about movies. t.i.tanic had come out that year, but neither of them had seen it, so the argument had been about which film was better-Men in Black or The Fifth Element. After throwing hot dog buns and squirting ketchup and mustard all over the deck at each other as they fought about it, they were then forced to clean it up, but it had been worth it.

Justin remembered seeing his mom's friend's daughter in a whole new light that day. "We should watch movies and mail our reviews to each other," he had proposed, wishing he had the guts to just ask her out. But she was so freakin' smart and he was just a regular guy, so he didn't think she'd really be interested in talking with him more than these rare get-togethers their mothers organized.

She had smiled, with her hair all flat and wet against her head and her soaked T-shirt clinging way too tight. "Sweet!"

So they'd become pen pals. First, they exchanged movie reviews, and then they had just done what anyone else would do and wrote letters to each other. After they graduated high school, her family had discovered the wonders of a dial-up internet modem and he and April became what she called "key-pals" instead of pen pals. She kept her Hotmail email address all through college and beyond. He had mostly kept his just for her.

He never told her. He never asked her out. He just looked forward to seeing her and sometimes chatting via instant message systems while he was off duty after he got stationed after basic training. Thanks to her insane studying, she pa.s.sed enough exams to start college as a soph.o.m.ore while he was just a private in the Green Machine. He never felt he could ask to be more than her friend.

As the next few years pa.s.sed, he flirted, she flirted, but that was it. Whenever he was home on leave, his mom threw a party and April's family always came, too. It was like she had said in that next-to-last email. They never spent time together, just the two of them.

But he wasn't the same guy as he'd been before Afghanistan. He made light of what he had been allowed to talk about, when he deployed. April didn't know everything.

Only G.o.d and the others in his unit did. And that was as it should be. Protecting April's innocence was important to the man he had become over there. Sacrifices had to be made.