Waking Up With You (14 page)

“What?!” she asks me.

“What was that about?” I ask her in an annoyed tone.

“You’ll see,” she responds, then starts backing out the driveway.

After about ten minutes, I notice that we’re on the wrong route.

“Why didn’t you turn on Monterey?”

“Because,” Paige says with a secret smile, “we’re not going to the park.”

“Okay, would you care to share the secret?”

“We’re heading to Point Dume.”

“That’s like more than an hour away. I thought we were just taking a break?”

“Yeah, a four hour break.”

I give her a melting look but she just giggles. I can’t be mad at her for very long anyway, so I end up grinning. The traffic is the worst part of going to our destination, but we make it more bearable by syncing the iPod to the sound system and singing along to our favorite songs loudly. We don’t care if people in other cars stare oddly at us while we are busily performing. We just let go and have fun.

We reach Point Dume and park alongside the curb, after which we unload our picnic basket and walk up the sand trail to enjoy the view. We can hear the sound of waves crashing and the sky has that perfect degree of cloud cover. The view from the promontory is amazing, as always, so Paige and I soak it up for at least half an hour. We stand there in awe of the vista before us. It just never gets old.

We take a walk down to the beach through the metal stairs. The sand is clean, the water almost emerald green in color and, best of all, today, there are only five or six people. Lucky us! It’s like having our own private beach. A few miles away, the dolphins are putting on a show and have us oohing and aahing. This place is picturesque and unexpectedly entertaining.

It’s the last week of October and the cool breeze is blowing hard in our faces. But the water looks so inviting that I turn to Paige with a disappointed face.

She looks at me like she can read my mind and fishes out two pairs of bikinis and beach towels from her large bag.

“You think of everything!” I marvel at her preparedness.

“Yes, I do,” she boasts. We go to the public restrooms to hurriedly put on our swimsuits. We wrap the beach towels around ourselves.

“Let’s go for a swim first. Prepare for the blast of ice,” she warns as she pulls my arm.

The water is so much colder than I imagined it would be, but after a while I get used to the temperature. I swim lazily, not caring about form or speed. After some time, I just stay afloat by doing the dog paddle. Paige is a few meters away, so I don’t bother her. I’m just idly passing time. The memory of my last time in the water comes rushing to me and I blush, though there’s no one around who would even know what I’m thinking. I moan softly as I recall Jake’s body against mine and I slam my hand into the water in a mixture of remorse and frustration. Remorse because I’m sorry I provoked him and frustration because, after the initial guilt, I wanted it to continue so badly.

I get out of the water and wrap myself with a towel. Paige sees me and quickly follows.

“The water is invigorating. Why did you get out?”

“Ah, I was getting tired and kind of hungry,” I lie so I don’t have to explain myself.

“Actually, I’m pretty hungry myself,” she agrees. We both reach for the sandwich wraps. I pour lemonade into plastic cups and put out the box of cookies on the blanket.

I bite into my wrap, but my mind is somewhere else, so I don’t even taste what I’m eating.

Paige senses my mood and asks, “Em, is everything alright?”

“Of course,” I start to respond, but then I’m horrified to feel tears trickling down my cheeks.

“Oh, Emma,” Paige says as she quickly embraces me. I’m openly sobbing now, and I can’t stop myself. It’s like someone opened the floodgates and there’s no stopping the flow.

“I’m in over my head, Paige,” I whisper through the tears.

“The husband?” she asks quietly and I nod sadly.

“Did something happen again?” I keep quiet, not sure if I should tell my friend about my recent encounters with Jake.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she assures me.

“I love him. I know that now. I love him and I want him so much,” I confess.

“Em, I’ve always known that, and I’m sure you have too on some level. You were just in complete denial.” She eyes me with compassion. “Did you…?” I know what she’s asking and I shake my head to say no. I sit up straight.

“We came close to… you know… but he stopped. Then, the last time, I was the one who didn’t want to go through with it.”

“Twice? You came close to having sex twice?” she asks disbelievingly. “What made him stop?”

“Who else but Christina?”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “What made you stop the second time around?”

“I didn’t want sex. I wanted us to make love. Clearly, with a girlfriend in the picture, that’s not going to happen.”

“And are you guys being weird when you’re together? Do you talk?”

“Surprisingly so. He apologized. After that, he even said he’d go shopping for Thanksgiving with me. I was taken aback, but I’m really very happy we’re not ill at ease with one another. At least, he’s acting very comfortably around me.”

“Comfortable is good,” Paige says, trying to cheer me up. I shrug.

“I wake up some mornings, and my pillow is wet with tears because I dream of him running away from me or being indifferent. Other times, I wake up from the most erotic dreams, and my body is throbbing from frustration.” I don’t look at Paige, afraid that she’ll ridicule me.

“Well, this is the time in our lives when we want to explore sexuality. What makes you think you’re immune from that?” she asks in a serious tone.

“Sometimes I think that maybe he’s attracted to me just a little bit, but I quickly get rid of the idea when I see him backing away. I think he loves her and doesn’t want to be unfaithful to her.”

“Maybe. He is an honorable man and he’s not the kind of guy who would cheat on his woman, no matter how tempted he may be,” Paige concludes.

“Isn’t he just perfect? Kind, loving, and faithful,” I spit out scathingly. “And when he misses her, I am the warm body, conveniently within his reach.”

“Em, perhaps it’s not like that,” she says to soothe me.

“Oh, it’s like that, I’m sure,” I hurriedly contradict her. “Yet, I can’t stay away because I’m waiting for crumbs of affection.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to talk to him?” she whispers.

“Paige! That’s the last thing I would do. Do you really want me to undergo the utter humiliation of letting him know I feel this way?”

Paige is still, unable to say anything to appease me.

“But I can’t leave him, Paige. Each time I get a reminder that he belongs to someone else, I say to myself – that’s it. I’ll just think of him as a friend. But, after a while, I lose my resolve.” I know I sound so pathetic, but with Paige, I’m unfiltered. “I love him. I can’t even think of a life without him.” My sobs grow more ragged and, in response, my friend just hugs me again.

For the next three weeks, I’m caught up in a whirlwind of activities at school and with my social media job. Jake’s firm is going all out for their Christmas party this year because they just completed the museum at Orange County, and are starting on a beautiful church up in Northridge. I’ve been tweeting regularly about their upcoming events, and Dan and I are coordinating closely on the timing of the publicity.

The professors are doing their best to rush projects and tests so that, when the students come back after Thanksgiving, the bulk of the work is over and it will seem like a countdown towards the finals.

This Friday is D-Day in terms of shopping for the holidays. We need to have the turkey and all the other stuff purchased before Saturday, at the very least. I want to ask Jake whether he still wants to go with me or not, but I hardly see him, and when I do, he’s on his tablet, reading reports, reviewing blueprints, or just thinking deeply. I have no time left, so I decide to do it today, right after breakfast, whether he’s occupied or not.

I’m preparing my special batter for waffles and heating the machine at the same time. He walks in with the iPad, and I know I’ll have to secure his attention right away.

“Hi Jake.”

“Good morning,” he responds absent-mindedly.

I plunge right in. “Will you still be able to go Thanksgiving shopping this weekend?” There. I said it. The ball is in his court.

“Where and when?’

“The local supermarket. Friday afternoon?”

He checks his calendar on his phone and says, “Yeah, let me just ask Dan to move some of my appointments around and I’ll be here at 5?”

“Sure.” That wasn’t so hard.

He takes a bite of the waffles and asks, “Is this from scratch?”

“Yes.” I look at him questioningly.

“Tastes really good. Maybe I should build you a restaurant,” he remarks with a big smile.

I’m pretty sure he’s joking, but my heart flutters a bit. “Sure you will,” I volley back.

“I’ve played angel investor to half a dozen people, and my investments have paid off handsomely. Why wouldn’t I back my own wife’s business?” His stunning blue eyes are focused on me.

“I just cook for pleasure.”

“And that’s precisely why I would invest in you. You do it for the best reason of all. It’s not money that motivates you. It’s making other people happy.”

“Oh.” What can I say to that? If only there were some truth to that saying about winning a man’s heart through his stomach.

I look his way and he has an incredibly devastating grin on his face, and I give an inward sigh of feminine appreciation. He’s just so damnably hot.
Emma, get a grip
.

“Emma?” I am so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don’t hear him asking me something.

“What? I’m sorry, I was preoccupied.”

“I was just asking you if we’re getting a tree for Christmas,” he asks.

“That would be lovely, but we would need the trimmings, too.”

“No problem. I can ask a florist to come and decorate it for us.”

“No!” I say out loudly.

“No?” he asks with one eyebrow lifted.

“I mean, I want to decorate the tree.” I probably sound like a child.

“Okay. I just thought you might welcome some help since you’re busy with school, the job, and other stuff,” he offers helpfully.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. But that’s always been my thing. My parents always let me decorate the tree. So did Charlie. I can’t imagine letting anyone else do it.”

“Then we can’t let anyone else touch the tree,” he humors me. “You’re the lady of the house and I defer to your judgment,” he adds with a grand flourish.

Now I’m thinking he’s just playing with me, but he seems to be totally serious.

“Thank you, kind sir,” I sport with him. “There is something you have to do, though.”

“What would that be?”

“Put the star on the tree top.”

“Whew! That’s it? I thought you were going to ask me to cut down the tree myself.”

“Ha.Ha. That’s not a bad idea. I should have thought of that.” I giggle and he laughs along. When he laughs, he seems at least ten years younger. Another inward sigh.

Breakfast is the only time we share regularly, so it’s not surprising that we almost always have easy, free-wheeling conversations in the morning. When he stands up to go to his room, I feel abandoned.
There’s never enough time.

I change at least five times while waiting for Jake to come home. Sundress with blue jean jacket. Too dressy. Long black skirt with side slit and bulky sweater, plus boots. Trying too hard. Finally, I settle on a light sweater and leggings with sneakers. Yeah, I know, we’re just going shopping. What’s the big deal, right?

The big deal is that it’s our first time to go out in public. And even though I know we’re not ‘going out,’ just going ‘out,’ I don’t want him to be embarrassed to be with me. I’ve applied some light make-up, courtesy of a You Tube tutorial, and I put my hair up in a casual French twist.

He’s thirty minutes late, but I don’t want to call and act too needy. So I check the grocery list for the fifteenth time, trying to see if I’m forgetting anything important. I hear him park in front of the house and I act nonchalant when he walks in great strides towards me, apologizing for his tardiness. “So sorry, Em, I just couldn’t get away. Did the staff call you?

“Uhm, maybe. My phone is on silent mode. But that’s okay. I was busy with something anyway,” I say with a straight face. “Do you need to change?”

“Let me get a fresh shirt,” he says while he takes off his suit and starts to remove his necktie and unbutton his shirt in front of me. Just what I need – Jake doing a striptease for my benefit.

He’s out of sight for a while, evidently changing in his room. When he emerges, he’s in a blue and white striped oxford down button shirt, with a blue cashmere sweater over it. His eyes are bluer than blue and I feel a warm glow flow through me once again.

“Shall we go?’ he asks, and then lets me walk ahead, out the door.

We drive to the supermarket and, as we go through the entrance, I start digging through my purse to look for my shopping list. When I take it out, Jake starts laughing out loud and people turn our way to see the source of his amusement.

“What?” I say defensively.

“Em, are we feeding fifty people?”

“No! What are you talking about?”

“Your list is like a foot long. How much will you be cooking?”

“You know I always cook a lot. Turkey, five side dishes, two desserts.” As I recite I become aware that I may be overdoing the preparations.

“I’m sorry, Jake. It’s too much, isn’t it? I’ve always done it this way and I completely forgot that it will just be the two of us this year.”

“That’s okay. If this is the tradition, then we must follow it. Can’t Paige or any of your other friends join us?”

“I’m afraid not. Paige has her own extended family affair. How about you? Do you want to invite anyone?”

“No,” he says slowly, like he can’t believe I’m asking. “But, I think it would also be a good idea to bring food to the nearby homeless shelter. I send checks every month, but I think nothing beats something as personal as a home-cooked meal. The directress told me they’ve ordered everything for next Thursday, but a few more sidings and pies will be welcome, I’m sure.”