Page 38 of So Wrong It's Right

The longest. If he were really my boyfriend, I’d rub his shoulders right now. I’d hold his face in my hands and kiss the tight line of his lips until he relaxed them soft again. I’d take him home and draw a bath and we could sink into the hot water and let our bones melt. We’d pull back the covers of my bed and slide in, naked and weak, wanting nothing but slumber. I’d curl around him, my hand on his heart so I could protect it while he slept.

I shake my head at the elaborate fantasy I’ve constructed of the two of us sleeping. It seems too intimate, too precious. Our relationship isn’t like that. It’s jagged and sharp, the difference between sea glass and a broken beer bottle.

He’s pondering the expression on my face, so I paste over my sudden disappointment that I’ll never have the soothing warm intimate nap with him. We are either high boil or freezer burn.

“Stella, I really appreciate everything you have done today. I don’t think I’ve ever had a harder, more heartbreaking day in my career. I’m glad Rusty is okay, but this afternoon... I’ve had to put animals down before. I know what’s humane...but...the way she screamed when we...” He closes his eyes, the memory probably playing across his mind on a vicious reel.

“You did everything you could for those cats and for Mrs. Bain. You did good work today, Christopher.”

He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never heard a woman wail like that.”

“She’s sick. She needs help. She loved those cats, but she can’t take care of them. It wouldn’t be humane to leave them there. And the ones that were suffering...Christopher, I was so proud to be by your side today.”

His eyes fly open. “Proud?”

“Yeah, proud. You really stepped up in a tough situation. You helped keep the rest of us on task and calm.”

“Because I’m cold and detached.”

“No...no. Nobody thinks that. You were attentive and thorough and calm.”

He shakes his head and traces the outline of his super big hands on the drawing Misty made of him. “I couldn’t have been any of those things without you today. You seemed to know what I needed before I knew I needed it.” He looks at me with the emotion he couldn’t show when we were in that house. “I needed you today, and you came through. Thank you.”

I don’t know what it cost him to say he needed anything, much less me. So, I nod like it’s no big thing. “Hey, I know we talked about making a public appearance at Ironwing tonight, but it’s late,” I say.

He looks beat, and I know I am. The adrenaline rush from the emergency on top of the horrible, no-good day at Mrs. Bain’s house has turned time into molasses.

“Yeah, the pub is out for me, too. I just want to go home, put my feet up, and eat salad straight from the jar.” Wow, did he just make a joke? I’m still chuckling when he adds, “Wanna come?”

It’s possible I didn’t hear that correctly. “You want me to go home with you? No one will see us together.” It won’t be part of our ruse.

“I know neither of us wants a real relationship, Stella. But I’d like us to be friends. And friends have dinner together sometimes.”

He hasn’t brought up if any benefits come with this friendship, but it’s probably best that they don’t. My fantasy of intimate sleeping be damned.

“Salad it is.”

Leann Anderson lives in the house behind the office, so we zombie shamble over after we close up. He pours wine while I dish us up—we will not eat directly from the jar, thank you very much. We sit on the couch in front of the television, and we both stare at the remote. Because now what?

Chances are pretty good that we will find nothing to agree on no matter how many channels Dr. Anderson subscribes to.

“What’s your favorite movie, Dr. Doolittle?” I ask him, kicking off my shoes and using the armrest of the couch against my back. He pulls my feet into his lap before leaning back with his dinner.

Well, okay then.

“If I’m trying to impress someone, my favorite movie isShawshank Redemption.”

“And when you’re being real?”

“Toy Story.”

I feel like a fifty-pound weight gets lifted off my heart when we both laugh. Nodding to the remote, I say, “See if you can find it.”

We watch the movie as we eat dinner. When it’s over, he queues up the originalTop Gunwhile I run the dishes to the sink.Top Gunbecause he didn’t believe me when I told him Leann Anderson was an extra in the bar when they sing that song to Kelly McGillis. When I get back to the couch, he’s got a blanket out and he spreads it over our laps when I sit next to him.

Devon and I never did this. We didn’t hang out. We went clubbing or drinking. But we never spent time with each other tobewith each other. That’s what friends are for. And Devon was never my friend. I watch movies with Perry, usually. But this, just letting go of a shared long day and laughing and relaxing next to Christopher is...well, nice. I’m sure there are better words for it. But nice feels really good to me.

I barely make it through the volleyball scene before my eyelids get heavy. I don’t know how much time has passed when I open them again. The movie is over. The home screen is on the TV. I’m using Christopher’s shoulder as a pillow and he’s lightly snoring. Which is good because it gives me a chance to wipe off the drool collecting on my chin.

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