“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, angrily wiping my tears from my face. He was going to see me cry.
“Um, I heard you and James…Well, I heard you, and then I heard you yelling, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he stammered.
“You’re not here to rescue me, are you?” I bit back, air-quoting the rescue.
He backed away as I crawled off the bed, seeming scared of my impending explosion. Even I knew this was going to be ugly.
“Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued? I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wallbanging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”
I was pointing and waving my arms around like someone was going to take them away from me. He had every right to look scared.
“I mean, what the hell is with you men? I’ve got one who wants me back, and one who doesn’t want anything to do with me! One who wants to be my boyfriend, but can’t even remember that I’m an interior designer. Designer! Not a f**king decorator!”
I was on a roll. At this point I was just ranting, plain and simple. I stalked in a circle around Simon, pacing and shouting while he tried to follow me, finally just standing still and watching me with huge eyes.
“I mean, you shouldn’t force someone to eat Vietnamese food if they don’t like Vietnamese food, should you? I shouldn’t have to eat it, should I, Simon?”
“No, Caroline, I don’t think you should—” he started.
“No, of course I shouldn’t, so I got the fried rice! Fried rice, Simon! I’m not gonna eat Vietnamese food ever again—not for James, not for you, not for anyone! You got that?”
“Well, Caroline, I think—”
“And for your information,” I continued, “I did not need a rescue tonight! I took care of it myself. He’s gone. And I know you think James is some kind of psycho, but he isn’t,” I said, beginning to lose momentum. My lower lip quivered again, and I fought it, but finally let go. “He isn’t a bad guy. He just…he just…he just isn’t the right guy for me.” I sighed, sinking down to the floor in front of my bed and holding my head in my hands.
I cried for a moment, while Simon remained frozen above me. I finally looked up at him. “Hello? Girl crying down here!” I sputtered.
He swallowed a smile and sat down in front of me. He pulled me off the floor and gathered me into his arms. And I totally let him. He settled me onto his lap and held me close as I cried into his chest. He was warm and gentle, and even though I knew better—oh, how I knew better—I tucked into the nook and let him comfort me. His hands ran up and down my back as I sobbed, his fingertips making the tiniest of circles on my shoulder blades as I breathed him in. It had been so long since I’d been held, just held, by a man that between the tiny circles and the scent of his fabric softener I was losing my senses.
Finally my sobs began to quiet as he held me close, cross-legged on my floor. “Why didn’t you play me music this week?” I sniffled.
“My needle was broken. I have to get it fixed.”
“Oh, I thought maybe…well, I missed it is all,” I said shyly.
He smoothed back my hair and brought his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I missed you.” He smiled gently.
“Me too,” I breathed, and his sapphires began to spin. Oh no. No voodoo. “How was Purina? Good? Bet she missed you too,” I whispered and watched his face change.
“Why do you keep bringing up Nadia?”
“I heard you on the phone with her earlier. Sounded like you were making plans.”
“Yes, I met her for drinks.”
“Please. You expect me to believe she didn’t come over?” I asked, noticing I was still on his lap.
“Ask your cat. Did he go crazy tonight?” Simon pointed at Clive, who had returned and was now watching us from the back of the couch.
“No, he didn’t, actually.”
“That’s because she didn’t come over. We met for drinks to say goodbye.” Simon looked at me carefully.
My heart began to beat so loud there was no way he couldn’t hear it. Why did Heart have to be so in to this? “Goodbye?”
“Yep, she’s going back to Moscow to finish her degree there.”
Heart settled down a bit. “Oh, so you said goodbye because she was leaving, not for any other reason. Silly me.” I lifted myself off his lap as he held me closer. I struggled.
“She’s leaving, yes, but that’s not why we said goodbye. I—”
I continued to wiggle. “Wow, only the Giggler left! And then there was one. I guess technically one does not make a harem, so will she be shouldering the load for the others or will you need to be interviewing for some more women? How does that work exactly?” I snapped.
“Actually, I’m going to be having a conversation with Lizzie very soon as well. I think we’re going to be just friends from now on,” he said, watching me closely. “What used to work for me just doesn’t work anymore.”
All stop. What? “It doesn’t work for you anymore?” I breathed, not daring to believe it.
“Mm-hmm,” he answered, his nose dipping down to the skin just below my ear and breathing deep.
Would he notice if I licked his shoulder? Just the tiniest taste?
“Caroline?”
“Yes, Simon?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t play music for you this week. I’m sorry that I…well, let’s just say I’m sorry for a lot of things.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No, I don’t have any zucchini bread,” I whispered, and his laugh echoed through the room. I laughed along, in spite of myself. I’d missed laughing with Simon.
“Come to Spain with me,” he whispered.
“Wait, what?” I asked again, my voice wavering. What, what, what? “Are you serious?”
“I’m very serious.”
I had to remind myself to breathe. Already heady from the voodoo and fabric softener, I shook my head to clear it. He was going Spain on me?
I was glad he seemed focused on the space behind my ear, because I doubted he’d be as interested if he could see how my eyes were now crossed. I needed a moment. I pulled myself away, finally standing up.