“Are you sure you don’t just want to drop that off and go back to my place?” Lee glances at me as the light turns green and he takes his foot off the brake. “It’s kinda early for dinner.”
I look down at the chilled pan of lasagna in my lap, the tin foil top crinkling under my grip. “I know it’s early, but it’s not like we’re gonna eat the second we get there.” I try not to take it personally that he doesn’t want to try my cooking. “And it hasn’t been that long since Mandi’s surgery, so she probably goes to bed pretty early.”
Lee drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “She’s not contagious or something, is she?”
My mouth pops open and it takes me a moment to reply. “She had to have back surgery because of a fall.”
I want to add so unless you can catch clumsiness, then no, it’s not contagious. But the look of exasperation he aims my way is enough to shut me up.
Pressing my lips together, I look out the window, letting Lee follow the voice commands of the GPS to my friend’s house.
When we met last month, his highbrow, buttoned-up personality appealed to me. He’d seemed sophisticated, and it had been a long time since a good-looking man had been outright flirtatious with me.
I’d soaked up his charm like a sock in a puddle. And he was super considerate on our first date. And still very kind on our second. But ever since he opened the door for me today, he’s been a bit of a butthole.
I figured the whole sex on the third date thing was just a saying. But he’s acting kind of… whiny. And I have to wonder if he’s being that way because he thought we’d be sleeping together.
Which is stupid. Because this isn’t that sort of date. And he was the one who volunteered to come with me today. Probably should have taken that as a sign––the fact he weaseled his way into today when I told him I was free tomorrow.
I use my fingers to make sure the tin foil is secure.
I hadn’t planned to introduce Lee to anyone until we were serious. And now, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be getting serious because I have no intention of seeing him again. This behavior isn’t attractive at all.
Plus, I know I told him that Mandi had surgery on two of her vertebrae.
Is she contagious?
Who asks that?
Lee turns on his blinker, slowing to take the turn onto Mandi’s street.
“If you don’t want to hang out, I totally understand.” I tell him, hoping he’ll take the out I’m offering. “You could always just drop me off.”
“No,” he sighs, “I said I’d come, and I’m a man of my word. How would it look to your friend if I didn’t show up?”
My teeth press into my bottom lip. This is my chance to tell him I didn’t mention him to Mandi because I wasn’t sure he was really going to come.
But I don’t want to come off rude and make the next few hours extra awkward.
I lift a hand to point. “It’s the yellow house. There’s a driveway around back, but I think it’s okay to park on the street here.”
We’re in a nice middle-class neighborhood not far from Minneapolis. The mature trees cover the street in shade, guarding us against the hot July sun.
Lee parallel parks his car into one of the open street spots, and I wait until he’s turned off the engine before unbuckling and opening my door.
It takes a little maneuvering to climb out of his low sports car without dumping the pasta into my lap, but I manage.
When he walks around the back of the car to join me on the sidewalk, I hold out the dish. “Can you hold this for a second?”
I’m almost surprised when he takes it without comment, so I don’t waste any time straightening my clothes.
It was hard to decide on an outfit for today. Since I’ve only seen Lee twice, or three times if you count the night we met, I’m still in the dress to impress phase. But my friend just had freaking back surgery, meaning it’s unlikely that she’d dress up for a stay-at-home early dinner. So, I cut the difference with a pair of frayed jean shorts, a floral print tank top that shows off my cleavage, and gold ballet flats.
The shorts creeped up way too much while sitting, so it takes some wiggles and yanks to get the material back in place. They’re cute, and objectively they look good, but I’ve never liked my legs––they’ve always been too big–– which means I can’t think about wearing them because I’ll overthink, and it will stress me out. But I do like that they’re just long enough to keep my thighs from rubbing together. Because the only thing more painful than the company of a disappointing man, is chafing.
I shake my head at myself, as I run my hands down the front of my top. The bold pattern helps to visually flatten some of my… ripples.
You’d think after thirty-two years of being “big boned”, as my family put it, I’d know how to dress myself, but I’m still trying to figure it out. Thanks to some great body-positivity accounts I found on social media earlier this year, I’ve been trying hard to embrace my softness by wearing tighter, more revealing clothes. It’s supposedly a way for me to embrace my sexuality, rather than always trying to hide my body. And it’s going okay, but it’s a process. And the weird vibes for Lee have me feeling a little overexposed at the moment.
He holds out the lasagna, clearly not willing to carry it up to the house for me.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to leave, but a thanks comes out instead.
Lee sweeps an arm toward the sidewalk. “After you, m’lady.”
A smile pulls at my lips as I step past him.
Okay, maybe I’m being too harsh on Lee today.
When we reach the front door, Lee reaches past me to ring the bell, then moves so we’re standing side by side.
It takes a few moments––as is expected––before the door swings open revealing my friend.
“Savannah?” Mandi’s face is covered with a confused smile.
“Hi!” I greet her with a grin. “Look at you walking around!”
She snorts and gives her walker a little shake. “The docs tell me I need to stay mobile.”
“Well, you look amazing,” I tell her.
“Thanks.” I watch her eyes slide over to Lee then back to me. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” she uses a stage-whisper, knowing the man next to me can hear everything.
Not sure what to introduce him as, I just tell her, “This is Lee.” Tipping my head in his direction since my hands are still full.
They exchange the usual pleasantries as they shake hands before Mandi turns back to me. “Sorry, I’m getting distracted. What are…” Her eyes drop to the heavier-by-the-moment pan of lasagna in my hands. “Oh my god, was that today!?” She smacks a palm against her forehead. “I thought it was next Saturday that you were coming over.”
“Oh no!” Heat creeps up my neck. If she sends us away, I’ll melt from embarrassment. “It’s probably me that was wrong.” I say it, even though I checked our text messages four times over the last four days, making sure I had the right time. “Well, you can pop this in the freezer if you want.” I lift the food. “Save it for another day. Or next weekend.”
“No, no.” She shakes her head. “Come in, please.” She steps back. “Another one of my friends is here with her brother. We’d worked on an event together this spring and she just wanted to check in on me.”
“Well that’s nice of her.” I follow Mandi into the house. “And she brought her brother?” For some reason, that makes me snicker.
Mandi angles so only I can see her face, then widens her eyes and fans herself.
Apparently the brother is good looking.
This will probably be awkward, crashing in on guests she’s already hosting, but having some eye candy can’t hurt. Especially since, starting tomorrow, I’m giving up on men. Because Lee still hasn’t taken this pan out of my freaking hands and my arms feel like they’re gonna fall off.
Mandi sets the pace, and we make our way down a hallway, toward the living room situated at the back of the house. The length of the hallway is lined with art.
My friend manages several art galleries––which is how we met––and she splits her time between here and Chicago, so she understandably has an amazing collection.
As we near the living room, I can hear the low murmur of voices.
Slowing, I let Mandi shuffle into the room first and try to relax my shoulders.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind if my friend Savannah and her boyfriend join us.”
It takes effort to not make a face when I hear her call Lee my boyfriend, but it’s not worth correcting.
I take that last step into the room and see Mandi’s other friend sitting on the couch, and next to her, as promised, is a man.
I’m not even walking anymore and I almost trip.
Because dear god, what a man. Mandi’s little face fanning thing was not warning enough for how hot this man is.
He’s dressed way too nice for a weekend. Basically, a suit, but without the suit coat, like he tossed it aside when he got too warm. And his fitted white shirt has the top two buttons undone, with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. Plus the way he’s lounged back, knees spread wide, stretching the material of his pants to their limit…Holy Christ, it’s working for him.
And his rich brown hair––the same color as his sister’s––is trimmed short on the sides, the same length as his beard, with the hair on the top of his head a little longer. I bet he usually has it slicked back perfectly, but like the rest of him, his hair is just a little disheveled.
But when my eyes move up, and lock with his, I take a step back.
There’s something there.
Something wild.
“Hi,” the woman next to the devilish man lifts her hand in a polite wave.
Happy for the distraction, I lift the pan in my hands a little as a greeting.
I’d almost forgotten I was still holding this. Now that I’m thinking about it, my fingers are starting to tingle.
I really need to work on my arm strength.
“Sorry we just kinda crashed,” my laugh sounds as unnatural as it feels. “Calendar mix up.”
The woman makes a face of understanding. “We’ve all done it.”
I shrug a shoulder, not really believing her. She’s dressed up as much as her brother, in a flashy skirt combo, not looking at all like someone who would show up at the wrong place or time.
Not that I did that.
Mandi makes her way to one of the open high back chairs, while I remain standing, shifting my weight in the uncomfortable silence.
When I finally hear Lee’s footsteps approach behind me, I scoot a little to the side.
He must’ve gotten distracted by some of the art pieces––which I can usually appreciate––but him walking in after us just makes this all weirder.
I point using an elbow. “Everyone, this is Lee.” I leave off the misplaced title and realize I haven’t gotten the siblings’ names either.
“Nice to meet…” The woman starts just as Lee rounds the corner. But she stops, her head jerking back as if someone just threw a drink in her face. “Leland?”
Lee halts next to me. Halts, like he walked into a wall.
The woman looks at me, then back at Lee. “What the fuck is this?”
I look back and forth between them, wondering how they know each other. And why she keeps calling him Leland.
“Aspen…” Lee croaks the word. Her name?
I watch the woman clench her jaw as she shoves up to stand. “This is the work you had to do today?!” She points a red tipped finger my way.
Oh no.
Oh no oh no oh on.
“Lee, what’s going on?” I ask the man standing beside me, even as dread fills my belly.
“His name is Leland.” The woman, Aspen, bites out. “And he is my lying, cheating, piece of shit husband.”
