All the Waters of the Earth (Giving You ... #3) (11 page)

Okay, I
did
care.  I liked my neighbor and was upset that he freaked.  I found myself explaining myself, yet again, to my friends, not wanting to accept that my fledgling relationship had been terminated.

“He’s just a little sad.  I wanted to take care of him. He took care of me. The whole weekend, he was so open. It was a really awesome weekend. I don’t know what happened.”

“You may never find out,” said Georgie.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A few hours later, my friends had left, I’d cleaned up the dishes and put on my pajamas. Although my friends had not solved anything for me, I felt better having talked it out.  And I was so tired.

When they’d left, I’d noticed a man sitting in a car across the street. Totally suspicious. I wonder if Carlos was having me watched.  Well, nothing was going to happen.

I’d tucked Rob in bed and went to go turn on the television, when there was a loud pounding at my door.

“Lucy.  Open up.” Jake’s voice.

No. I wasn’t going to talk to him.

A thud.

It sounded like his forehead was against the door.

I could ignore him and he’d probably go away, eventually. But I’d learned that it was better to just deal with people than to hide. I opened the door to Jake, still in his blue business suit that I’d seen him in ten hours earlier.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“No.”

He sighed. “We need to talk.”

“No we don’t. I don’t need to talk with you. I don’t want to see you.”

“Give me a chance,” he whispered. Dammit. No.  No puppy dog eyes.  No lovely face.  No.  I wasn’t going to fall for it again. I was angry and I didn’t want to hear it.

“No. You had your chance.”  I went to close the door.

“I fucked up today.” 

“Yeah, you did. And you showed what you’re really like. So no, go away.”

He looked like he was going to reach for me, his hands twitched, but he restrained himself.  Those artistic hands.  He spoke quietly.  “You’re the only one who knows me.  The office? That’s not me.”

God, strike me in the heart.  But no.  
No
.

“Whatever. I’m not going to find out. I’m not going to be with you because it could hurt my son, one. And I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who has to hide the fact that he’s in a relationship from people he spends most of his time with every day, two. So no. And no. This is now bigger than me and you. I am not going to give my ex any ammunition.”

I went to shut the door in his face, and he put his hand out, stopping it.

“Let me explain—”

“Nothing you say could change anything at this point. So just go.”  The look on his face hurt my heart. But no. I couldn’t let him in because it would hurt even worse.  “Go home, Jake.”

“I don’t have one,” he said. “But I’ll leave you alone.”

And with that, he turned and left.

Over the work week that followed, two things happened.

First, my writing productivity exploded.
Finally
. My male character came to life, bringing a set of complex issues to solve and a distraction from my real life and legal problems. If I was going to be honest, the male character was based on Jake, but the Jake of my dreams and fantasies, not the real life Jake who lived next door. Real life Jake didn’t measure up, but in my book, I could make him just right.

By Friday, I’d exceeded my word count goals, getting caught up for the past two weeks, and then some. Satisfied with the quality and quantity of my work, I spent a lot of time swimming while Rob was in school.  The downtime for my brain was healthy and it kept my body in shape. While I was in the pool, I concentrated on moving my arms and legs, counting laps, and staying focused on the exercise. Swimming also tired me out so that I didn’t sit around when I wasn’t writing and think about my sexy but sad neighbor, and it made it so that I fell asleep quickly. 

There was something incredibly soothing about being in the warm water of our pool. It felt womb-like, comforting.  A place of creation where my ideas came to me. I loved the sensation of being suspended, feeling weightless, existing temporarily in a different environment. Feeling relief, pleasure, relaxation.  Home.

Second, I began to freak out about going to model for the life drawing class on Saturday. The last class had been like any other assignment—I was an anonymous model, posing for anonymous art students, and I did my job and left.

This week? It was more.

Now I had to disrobe in front of a man who had made love to me.  It’d felt like it had meaning, like the start of something big. But then when he wouldn’t acknowledge our fledgling relationship?  God, now it hurt to think about him.  But I wasn’t going to put up with a guy who was ashamed of me. That didn’t make it any less awkward to think about going to class, however.

Saturday, I left in the morning to get to class early. Georgie watched Roberto for me this time. As I drove away, Jake’s BMW lurked in the parking lot of our complex; I halfway wished that he wouldn’t show up. 

Truth be told, though, the other half really wanted to see him. And the real, God’s honest truth be told, I missed him in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I’d been waiting for him all of those evenings. I wanted to see him. As the days of the week dragged on, I thought more and more about what had happened. He’d been so romantic. I hated this. I was starting to think that I had overreacted. 

I didn’t know what had been going on with him at the office.  I hadn’t let him talk. I wondered if I’d get the chance to let him explain it, or if I’d lost my chance forever. 

Maybe I should give him a second chance.  I really liked him.

I scolded myself. I’d written a book about a second chance. Some person I was if I wouldn’t do it in real life.

Still, I had processed some emotions with the passage of days. I felt strongly that no one was going to walk all over me. It mattered that people treated me with respect. I felt like I had proved to myself that I had a backbone and could stand up for myself.  I wasn’t going to put up with bad treatment. But something more was going on. There was something below the surface, I could feel it. And I felt like I was now hurting myself—and him—by not talking to him.

Searching down deep, I was still attracted to him. Not just his body, though I was attracted to that too, but
him
. I wanted him in my life. I wanted to disassemble him, find out what made him tick. He seemed like he needed someone to love—he didn’t have anyone and that made my heart hurt.

I didn’t feel like I could give him a second chance right now, however, because of the court proceeding. It was better for me not to be in a relationship, especially a new one, for Roberto’s sake. So the decision was easy for now.  Yet seeing him today was going to be hard.

Walking into the classroom early, I was relieved to see that no one was there. The anteroom was empty, and I went in, undressed, put on my white waffle robe, and waited. After a few minutes, I heard the noises of people arriving, chairs scuffling around, and people taking their seats. The professor knocked on the door and talked with me for a moment. Today, I was to move around, and they were to sketch me in motion, going from pose to pose.

God, what a day to make me parade around naked.  I tried to remember to breathe.

Last time I’d come into the classroom, I didn’t look around.  Instead, I’d looked down. This time, I wanted to hold my head high and look him straight in the eye.

But I couldn’t.

I strolled to the middle of the class, dropped my robe, and began a series of poses, holding each until the professor said, “Next pose, please.” Each pose had movement, like swinging an arm or turning a head back and forth. Because of this constant movement, this class session, I got a lock on where Jake was seated, at an easel in the back. His eyes were on me, and every time I looked at him they seemed to have a different expression. At first, they were blank, studious, an artist flicking his eyes up from his paper, to the model, then back again. But as I moved and the poses changed, his eyes went to anguished. Then pleading. And then, worst of all, his sexiest stare, intense, unblinking heat, his hands down, not drawing, just watching me naked, moving, for the other art students to draw.

Before, I found modeling for an art class to be almost asexual. I’d thought about my Target shopping list. But this time, all I could think about was Jake’s hands on me, his lips on my skin, his fingers making me come. The caresses he gave me, the way he was thoughtful and honest.

Dammit.

I had to give him a second chance. Once this case was done, I was going to do it. But I needed to figure out a way to tell him.

In what seemed like no time at all, the professor called time, and I went back and changed. This time I hurried, and when I was done, half of the class, including Jake, was still putting away their art supplies. I walked straight over to him as he was putting his pencils in the box and packing up his bag.

“Hi,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Hey,” he responded, looking at me with an unreadable expression. I felt a little hopeful.

“Can we talk?”

He looked at me with heat and longing. My heart leapt. But then he shook his head and let out a sigh, picking up his art pad and his supplies. “It’s not a good time, Lucy.” And then he walked away from me.

When I returned from the art class, Georgie took one look at my face and knew what had happened. In an instant, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called Sara for emergency backup, and the two of them sat on either side of me while I cried.

Yet again.  Dammit, now I was crying all the time.  But I allowed myself this day of wallowing.

And then I tried to seal off my heart and move on. I’d done it before.  I would simply toughen up again and set my emotions aside.

But I couldn’t help but hope that Jake and I would still get a second chance. 

A week passed. I bought Christmas presents for Roberto, my friends, and my family. I saw things that would be wonderful for Jake—a blue scarf that would match his eyes, art supplies, books of photography of Santa Barbara. I didn’t buy him anything, but I kept thinking about him. Rob and I put up a little Christmas tree. We decorated. I went to Rob’s Winter Pageant, where he wore a Santa hat and sang “Jingle Bell Rock.”

But I never saw Jake. Each day, I heard him leave, following his regular routine of early morning workout, then early to work. But he came back later and later, and he never knocked on my door. I made sure never to go out when I heard him coming or going.

I missed him.

The guy in the car outside my house stayed parked there, watching my door most days. I was almost used to him now. It had to be pretty boring watching my door. Still, Carlos could spend his money however he liked, as long as he paid for his son.

About one o’clock on the Monday of the first day of Roberto’s winter break, my phone rang. I was sitting at the computer, writing, while Rob read a book. It was Amelia.

“Lucy, is there any chance that you can come in today? Carlos’s attorney set an emergency
ex parte
hearing for tomorrow, and we need to prepare.”