A Life That Fits (27 page)

My anger infected him and his voice rose as
he said, "You won't quit now even though you know I hate it. That's
something."

"Let's get this straight, okay? I'm not
quitting that job for you. You can take that any way you want, but
I'm taking it like this: it's mine and I like it and I want to be
there. Loren has nothing to do with it."

"Then what did that taxi driver see that made
him--"

I threw up my hands. "That's it. I'm tired
and I'm not putting up with this crap any more. I did nothing
wrong. I'm going to bed. You will sleep out here."

I grabbed Harrison and went into the bedroom
before Alex could answer, locking the door behind me. Even with my
exhaustion and Harrison's comforting purr and then his snore,
though, I couldn't sleep.

For all his hypocritical annoyingness, Alex
had a point. Though we weren't acting on it, Loren and I had a
connection that went deeper than friends and coworkers.

Did Alex and I still have that
connection?

Did I even want us to have it?

Alex and I didn't acknowledge our fight the
next morning; we just had breakfast together while watching a movie
and slid right back into our routine. Since I spent most of my time
at the four musical theater performances that weekend we didn't
really have much opportunity to talk. Not much opportunity and even
less inclination, since the few times we did speak we immediately
found ourselves bickering about my job or Harrison's fur on the
floor or something even more stupid. Even if I'd had time for a
deep discussion with him, I wouldn't have wanted one.

I hated the whole thing, and hated how my
stomach's knots seemed tied tighter than ever, but I couldn't see a
way out. And I hated that too.

My mood brightened on Monday, though, thanks
to Wendy. She and I went for that coffee, and after a brief
awkwardness slid right back into being friends, although neither of
us mentioned Alex. That same day, we worked through lunch so we
could leave the office early and go shopping before my knit and
crochet night. We became even more relaxed with each other as we
cruised the mall, laughing and joking and sighing together over
amazing things we couldn't afford. Gorgeous earrings for her at a
great price turned up at the first store we tried, but we weren't
able to find anything for me until the last store.

When we'd passed that store on the way in, a
brown skirt in the window caught my eye because it was so much like
the dress I saw on my first post-Alex shopping trip, the one I
convinced myself wasn't right for me because it was brown. I didn't
think this one was right either, since I was loving my new brighter
wardrobe, so I didn't tell Wendy I wanted to try it on, but as we
browsed the rest of the stores I kept thinking about the skirt and
its matching top, and I couldn't get them out of my head. Them, and
the dress that had been so pretty.

We went into the store at last but I still
hesitated. I was supposed to be brightening up my life, not adding
more neutral brown. Wendy went straight for the jewelry display,
naturally, and I loitered around the rack of skirts trying to
decide what to do. I didn't want to add anything boring to my life.
I needed color.

But I couldn't stop looking at the skirt. It
just seemed so
perfect
to me. Soft and flowing, with velvet
and sheer fabric alternating, it looked like it would feel amazing
against my legs.

I stood indecisively in front of the skirts
for another moment then reached out and grabbed my size. I had to
see myself in it. I didn't want to regret not trying it like I did
with the dress.

Once I'd found the matching top, I told Wendy
I was going to try them on and found an open fitting room. With my
back to the mirror, I pulled off my blue sweater and purple skirt
and replaced them with the new clothes. The top's soft fabric clung
to me but didn't feel restricting, and I'd been right: the skirt
dancing against my legs as I twisted from side to side made me feel
happy.

I turned to face the mirror, then stared. I'd
never thought a gathered skirt like that would work on me, but I'd
been so wrong. It fit like it had been designed for me. If I hadn't
tried it, I never would have known it would work.

"How's it going in there?" Wendy called, and
I opened the door and stepped out.

Her eyes widened. "You're buying them, right?
You look incredible. It's like they made the whole outfit just for
you. I love it."

I swished my hips and we watched the skirt
move. "I love it too. But..."

"But what?" She grimaced. "Too
expensive?"

"Actually, they're on sale."

"Then what?"

I nearly said, "I have too much brown," but
as I looked at myself in the mirror I knew I didn't need to. I did
like brown. I liked lots of other colors too,
and
I liked
brown. The skirt and top were gorgeous. They were perfect on me. I
felt terrific wearing them. What else needed to be said?

Only one thing. "I'm buying them."

Wendy clapped her hands. "Good for you. Ooh,
you know what they need? Brown suede boots."

I studied myself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Definitely. Sleek ones, with a heel. Let's
go find them!"

I laughed at her enthusiasm, giddy myself.
Why had I nearly turned down a perfect outfit just because it was
brown? It made no sense, and I was thrilled with myself for
recognizing that, for not refusing something amazing because it
wasn't exactly what I'd thought I wanted. "Okay, let's. But I have
trouble with boots. They never fit quite right."

"We'll find ones that do," she said
confidently.

After I got dressed again and bought the
skirt and top, we went looking for boots but unfortunately had no
success. She promised to keep shopping with me until we did, but on
the way home I remembered the 'shoe guy' I'd met the night I'd been
chatting with everyone I ran into. I checked his site and found a
pair of boots that seemed great so sent an email to see if he'd
been serious about his offer of free shoes. With any luck, my
perfect boots were waiting for me in his warehouse.

Tuesday night would usually have been a
musical theater rehearsal, but since we were on a month-long hiatus
before beginning the next show Alex and I were sitting on the couch
watching TV. At least, he was; I was crocheting and ignoring the
millionth episode of CSI we'd seen together in favor of thinking
about the knit night. Most of the knitters had accepted my lack of
interest in trying their craft, but two just wouldn't give up
pushing me to try, even hinting I was a coward for refusing. I'd
eventually nearly snapped at them, stopping myself only because
Ellen stepped in and told the group, "In my store people can do
whatever craft they want. As long as it uses lots of yarn."

The resulting giggles had defused the tension
and made the women leave me alone, but I was still annoyed by their
behavior. I didn't want anyone pushing me around and telling me
what to do.

I held back a grimace. No, I didn't want that
at knit night, because I got more than enough of that from my
constantly displeased boyfriend. As that thought hit me, my cell
phone rang. I glanced at it and didn't recognize the number, but I
was bored and needed a distraction from my thoughts so I answered
anyhow.

"Andrea?"

"That's me. Who's this?"

He cleared his throat. "Mark. Do you remember
me?"

The name triggered something but I couldn't
bring it up. "I think so. Remind me."

"The speed dating thing?"

Right. The cute sweet man who'd felt more
like my brother than a potential boyfriend. When he'd emailed me
I'd given him my cell number since I didn't like using work email
for personal stuff. Good thing too, since I no longer had that work
email address. "Of course, I remember you now. How are you?"

Alex sat up straighter on the couch, then
turned off the TV.

I shot him an annoyed look and walked away
into the bedroom as Mark said, "I'm great, thanks. You?" I didn't
close the door behind me, though; I'd be damned if I'd cower in the
bedroom whispering in my own home.

I settled onto the edge of the bed. "Pretty
good. Finished with your travel for a while?"

He chuckled. "You remembered. Yup, I'm in
Toronto for at least a month or two now. I was hoping you'd have
dinner with me."

I hesitated. Bringing another man into the
mix couldn't be a good idea.

A frowning Alex appeared in the bedroom
doorway and stood watching me.

I cleared my throat. "You remember what we
talked about before, right?"

Mark chuckled again. "You're still not
interested. I get it. But look, I'd like to see if we could be
friends. I'm not going to be some crazy stalker or something. If
you say no, this'll be the end. But I hope you say yes."

Hearing him talk was bringing him back more
clearly to my mind. He'd been funny and sweet, and I knew what I
wanted to do. "Yes. Where?"

We arranged to meet the next night after my
crochet group, while I sat under Alex's glare, then I hung up and
said, "I'm meeting a friend for dinner tomorrow."

"I heard. Who is she?"

His tone said he knew 'she' was a he, and I
shook my head. "Is it always going to be like this? You not
trusting me even though I didn't do anything?"

He dropped onto the bed next to me, then
rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I went out with Kelly for a
friendly dinner. That's how everything got started."

"Nothing's going to get started here."

He put his arm around me. "I do trust you. I
just know how this could go wrong."

I took a breath to speak but he got there
first and said what I'd been thinking. "I know, I was the one who
cheated. I know that." He squeezed me tighter. "And I hate it. I
wish I could take it back. I love you, and I want this to
work."

The emotion in his voice touched me, and I
moved closer and put my head on his shoulder. "It can't if you
don't trust me."

He lowered onto his back, pulling me with
him, and we stayed cuddled up together in silence for a long
time.

Did
he trust me? Did I trust him? Did
I even
want
this to work? Snuggled in his arms, I felt like
maybe I did, but maybe that was just me sinking deeper back into
the old rut.

*****

"Nice to see you again, Andrea."

"You too." I sat in the chair Mark had pulled
out for me, and he returned to his own. Not even Loren treated me
with this kind of 'old-world' respect, though he was perfectly
attentive and caring even when we were trying to keep our distance
from each other, but somehow such a level of courtliness wouldn't
suit Loren's personality. It seemed to suit Mark's, though, and I
liked it. "How was your trip?"

"Pretty good. Signed up a few new
clients."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a book promoter."

"One of my dad's friends has lots of novels
published, but I've never heard him mention his book promoter. Is
this a new thing?"

He nodded. "I find non-fiction books that
should have a bigger market than they have, and I talk to the
author about how I can help get the word out."

"For a share of the money, I assume?"

"Yup. But let's not talk business, okay? I
want to know what you've been up to since I met you."

I took a breath to speak, although I had no
idea where to start, but he added, "I'm really glad you agreed to
come out with me tonight. I enjoyed meeting you."

"I enjoyed it too. You were by far the best
one I met that night."

He smiled. "I'd feel more complimented if I
hadn't seen my competition. There was one guy, who I hope you
didn't have to meet, who kept talking about his need for a... well,
let's say a very well-endowed woman. He was deeply annoying. And
bald."

I burst out laughing. "And bug-eyed?" I said
through my laughter.

Mark laughed too. "You met him?"

I gave him the story of my meeting with that
jerk and how I'd made him leave, and Mark said, "See, I knew right
away that you were smart and funny. And you're adorable. He's an
idiot."

"Aw, thanks."

"No thanks required. I speak only the truth."
He smiled at me. "If I recall, when I left you that night I said
you'd be married by now. So?"

I shook my head.

"But you're with someone?"

The urge to sigh was overwhelming, but I held
myself together and said, "Yes. I actually went back to my old
boyfriend."

He sipped his wine, studying my face. When
he'd set the glass down, he said, "And how do you feel about
that?"

I smiled. "Are you going to ask me about my
mother next?"

"Sorry, that did sound a bit psycho-babble,
didn't it? But the question stands. Are you happy, Andrea?"

To my horror, my eyes filled with tears. I
blinked hard and looked away.

He took my hand, his touch warm and
comforting, and I returned my gaze to him to see him giving me a
gentle smile. "Listen. You have no chemistry with me, right?"

My blink this time was from confusion. How
had he known, and why was he asking?

"It's okay. I sell things for a living, I'm
pretty good at knowing when I'm not connected to a prospect. My
point is, we're only going to be friends. So let's
be
friends, and maybe I can help you deal with your relationship."

I looked into his sweet blue eyes and felt an
enormous weight lifting from my shoulders. I had nobody to talk to
about everything I was feeling. Wendy? Hardly. Loren? Not exactly
an uninvolved party. Alex? The same. But Mark seemed to want to
listen, and suddenly I so wanted to talk. "There's another
guy."

He nodded, and gave my hand a squeeze.

I squeezed his in return, and as we ate a
leisurely dinner I told him how and why Alex and I had split, how
I'd changed my life, how I'd connected to Loren, and finally how
I'd taken Alex back but was still yearning for Loren.