Anytime Soon (16 page)

“Okay,” he said. “I understand.” He walked slowly to his office.

I sighed and dropped down in my chair. I was the happiest woman in the world when I got to work this morning. How easily my euphoria had been replaced with disgrace. Reality bites. Being with Jeff made me feel beautiful, happy, and alive. Despite all that, the fact remained that Jeff was married. Not only was he married and my boss, but also I was totally out of my league. I stared at the M&Ms as if the answers to all of my problems were embedded on the packaging. When nothing surfaced, I took the completed deposition summaries to Taylor.

“Wow,” she said. “That was fast. I didn't think you would get to them until next week. Can you do these, too?” she asked gratefully, handing me a huge stack of documents.

“Sure,” I said.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Jeff hadn't tried to talk to me again. I may have hurt his feelings, or maybe he was just as confused and conflicted as I was.

When I got off work, I called Catie and told her I was on my way over there. I needed to talk to somebody or I was going to go crazy.

“On your way where?”

“On my way to your house.”

“Um, girl, that's not really a good idea. I'm headed out.”

“Well, I will catch you before you go, because I'm right around the corner.” I hung up before she could respond.

After I got off the phone with Catie, I sent Sophie a text asking her to meet me at Catie's. I was pretty sure she wouldn't come, but I asked her anyway.

Catie greeted me at the door. “Ny!” she said loudly, giving me a big hug.

Why is she talking so loud? Good Lord, I hope she hasn't been
snorting that stuff like Sophie.

“Hey you,” I said, hugging her back.

“Come on in, girl,” she said, leading me toward the living room.

“Catie, why are you talking so loud?” I asked, mystified.

Before she could respond, a dark-skinned guy walked into the room and stood next to her. She quickly introduced him as Armani, and he walked back into Catie's room, closing the door behind him. Before I could begin my interrogation, Catie started to explain. It turned out that she'd started seeing him a week ago. But she was now tired of him, and she wasn't sure he had anywhere else to go. Apparently, he managed to pull the wool over Catie's well-trained eyes and misrepresented himself with a rented BMW and stories of his successful music management company. The problem with lies is that eventually, the truth comes out.

I wasn't surprised at his being a phony, but I certainly was surprised at Catie. She was normally able to spot an impersonator several miles away.

As Catie finished telling me about the mooching music manager, Sophie called my cell.

“Hello?” I said. “Yes, I'm here, Sophie. You have Antoine with you? How did
you
guys get together? Oh, okay. See you soon. Bye.”

Catie raised an eyebrow as high as it could go.

“I asked her to meet me here. She said she was on her way. She has Antoine with her.”

“Wait,” Catie said, holding her hand up and shaking her head from side to side.

“
You
invited Sophie to my house? And she's coming here with some dude I don't even know?”

“Yes, I invited her here, and Antoine isn't some dude. You remember him. His mom used to date my Uncle Riley,” I reminded her.

“Yes, I remember that hoodlum,” she snipped.

When we were kids, Antoine had a huge crush on Catie. I think she had a crush on him, too, but she wouldn't admit it. Whenever he came to our house with his mom, Catie didn't let him out of her sight. Sophie and I always thought they would make a good couple, but it never happened. We hadn't seen Antoine in a long time. I texted him occasionally, but we hadn't hung out in ages. I couldn't figure out how he and Sophie ended up hooking up.

“Antoine's not a hoodlum, and you know it. He works for the city's transportation department, and he makes good money.”

“Whatever. He's a hoodlum to me.”

I looked at a text from Sophie on my phone. “Sophie and Antoine are here,” I informed Catie. “Can you let them up, please? And be nice?”

She hesitated.

“Why are you acting like that?” I argued. “You used to think Antoine was cute when we were kids,” I reminded her.

“No I didn't! And even if I did, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a fully grown woman now, and I don't get down with the thuggish, ruggish bone,” she said. “Besides, Sophie hasn't returned my calls in weeks,” she said, sounding more like an adolescent than a fully grown woman.

I gave her a look. “She hasn't called me back either, but she's still our friend.”

“Tell them to drive into the garage,” she relented. “I'll call the doorman.”

When Antoine and Sophie walked through the elevator, Catie rolled her eyes and plopped down on the couch. Sometimes she was such a toddler.

“Hello to you, too,” Sophie said sarcastically to Catie.

She and Antoine both gave me a hug.

“Bitch, please,” Catie admonished Sophie. “Ny and I both have been calling you for weeks. Don't come up in here talking crazy to me.”

Antoine then said to Catie, “Well, you haven't been calling me. So do
I
get a hug?”

I hadn't seen Antoine in a while, but time had certainly been good to him. He was still tall and well built, but he had matured in ways I couldn't put my finger on. It didn't hurt that his biceps boldly crept from beneath his All Saints tee and his Seven for All Mankind jeans hung just right on his slim waist. He was looking good, and there was no denying that. I shot a glance over at Catie, who was apparently thinking the same thing by the look on her face. I fought the urge to tell her to close her mouth. It was too late, anyway.

She got up slowly and hugged Antoine. She tried to hug him quickly and let go, but he held on to her. Sophie and I exchanged glances.

“What are you two doing together?” I asked Sophie and Antoine after he let Catie go and sat down on the couch.

“Oh, I ran into Antoine at the car dealership. I put my car in the shop and was going to get a courtesy rental when I ran into him. We went to lunch, and then you called and told me to come over here. And here we are.”

“It's been so long,” I said to Antoine. “You're looking good, too. Isn't he looking good, Catie?”

“Huh, what?” Catie asked, still apparently in awe of Antoine.

“I was just telling Antoine how good he looks. Wouldn't you agree?”

“Oh, yeah. You look nice,” Catie said, going to the kitchen.

“Can I get anybody anything?”

“No thank you, but maybe you should get yourself a glass of ice water,” Sophie said teasingly.

Catie shot her a dirty look.

We sat around and talked for about thirty minutes, when Armani emerged from Catie's bedroom. He had a backpack and a video game console, and he left on the elevator without a word. Catie sighed in relief.

Sophie and Antoine looked at Armani, then Catie, then me. Their amazement and curiosity were apparent. Neither Catie nor I had mentioned the fact that Catie had a man in her bedroom.

“Sophie, you look a little tired,” Catie said to Sophie, who did actually appear thin and very tired. It was an obvious deflection.

Sophie wasn't buying into it. “Please don't sit there and act like a man didn't just walk out of your bedroom,” Sophie exclaimed. “Who the hell was that?”

Defeated, Catie recapped her story about Armani. I was surprised that she was so candid in front of Antoine since she had given him such a hard time. Antoine didn't seem to mind, though.

“You guys want something to drink?” Catie offered, trying to change the subject again.

“You have any chocolate?” Sophie asked.

“No, but I have some soap,” Catie replied. “You also look like you need a bath.”

Sophie didn't say anything. She wandered into the kitchen.

Catie didn't hide that she had little sympathy for Sophie's drug problem. Catie believed that Sophie was spoiled, bored, and selfish.

“You
did
have chocolate, you liar!” Sophie said, coming back into the living room and sliding back down on the couch.

Jeff called my cell, and, excusing myself, I went on the balcony to talk to him.

“Where are you?” he asked possessively.

Surely, he could have thought of a nicer way to greet me.

“I'm at my friend Catie's house. You remember, I've told you about my friend, Catie?”

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I'm listening,” I said, admiring the view from Catie's balcony.

“When would be a good time for you?”

“I don't know. I have other things on my mind right now, and I can't make room for this.”

Why did I say that, when he's the only thing on my mind?

“Oh, you don't have time for our issues?” he demanded.

“Our issues?” I realized that I was about to be brutally honest, but I kept going. “I fell in love with you for who you are, despite all of the nonsense that comes with it. I've opened myself up to you in almost every way possible. I've made myself available to you when you need me. You sleep with someone else every night, not me. Stupidly, I put up with that. I feel as if I'm sacrificing my soul for this relationship. In fact, I know I'm sacrificing my soul for this relationship. Do you even realize that?” I stomped my foot in frustration.

There was a long silence. Finally, he simply said he was sorry. I heard the apology, but I didn't know what to say.

“Anaya?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you don't want to see me?”

I really wasn't sure about anything, but I said firmly, “I'm tired of my heart being broken every time we get off the phone, because I know you're going home to
her
. I'm overwhelmed with guilt whenever you tell me about your life that doesn't involve me in any way. I'm pretty sure I deserve better.”

“I love you, Anaya.”

My heart began pounding, and I started sweating.

“I love you,” he repeated.

“I can't do this anymore, Jeff.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“I heard you, but I just can't do it anymore.”

“I don't want to talk you into anything,” he said. “I know your mind is set. It is so hard to let you go. How am I supposed to do that? You know I love you, Anaya. I blame myself for letting things go too far. I know this is not the kind of thing you're happy with, and I know you struggle with it. I'm so sorry I'm doing this to you, but I can't let you go. I feel like you belong to me.”

His possessiveness felt stifling. I explained, “But I
don't
belong to you, Jeff, and I never will.”

“I know,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Why do you love me?” I coolly asked him.

“Why are you asking?” he said, puzzled.

“I want to know.”

Jeff put his best case forward. “I love you because your heart and your feelings for me are so strong. You want me for who I am, not for what I can do for you or give to you. I love you because when you smile, my day is brighter. I love you because you're the most intelligent woman I've ever had the pleasure of kissing. You're the most beautiful and sweetest woman I've ever known.”

Although he said these complimentary, compelling things, something just didn't make sense to me. Why would he be so enamored of a mere college student, with limited life experience, who still lives at home with her parents? What did he want from me? Not believing him gave me strength.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I'm just wondering what you see in me that you don't see in her.” I knew he didn't want me to ask, but it was a reasonable question.

He sighed. “Are you asking me if you're better than she is?”

“I'm asking what you want from me and why.”

Jeff's feelings tumbled out, and those feelings centered on himself. “I enjoy you, Ny. I enjoy your passion for life. I'm totally and completely in love with the way you love me. Nobody has ever loved me the way you do. Nobody, ever. In the middle of everything else that life has to offer, when you find someone who loves you that way, it feels good. It feels
damn
good.”

He paused, and I nervously drummed my fingers on the balcony railing, waiting to hear the rest.

“I don't know what I want from you,” he continued vaguely. “I don't have a logical answer for that. Whatever time you want to give me, I'll take it. You're a beautiful, smart woman. You could date anyone you want but you choose to spend your time with me, and you choose to love me. Sometimes when I think about you, I'm overwhelmed that you even chose me. I'm older, with a family and serious obligations. You're young and beautiful, with your whole life ahead of you—”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Are you telling me you are insecure about my feelings for you, Jeff?”

“Maybe a little insecure. You might wake up one day and decide I'm not worth it. Decide that we are not worth it.”

“Why do you think I love you?” I asked.

“I know this might sound overconfident,” he said, “but I think I'm the best thing that has ever happened in your life, as far as men go. I think you love me because I know what you want, and I know what you need. We share the same determination in trying to be the best we can, and you like that. I also think you trust me more than you're willing to admit.”

“But I don't trust you, and I don't feel that I chose you. You chose me,” I blurted out.

“Why don't you trust me?” he asked.

“Because you're married, Jeff. How can I trust a man who cheats on his wife?”

“How can I trust a woman who falls in love with that man, Anaya? This is not about our circumstances. It's more than that. It's about friendship and the feelings we have for each other. I didn't come looking for you or this relationship. I don't have time for all of this drama and confusion. Do you think I wanted this to happen? I didn't. But it happened. And now I can't stand the thought of being without you. I love and trust you for who you are, and for what you are to me, regardless of our circumstances.”