I pace the living room, looking out the front window at the street as I call Jade. We’re supposed to be at an event in fifteen minutes. Another magazine thing at some museum. I didn’t get a lot of details, but I was promised food.
“Hey, where are you?” I ask when she answers.
“Still at the office. I’m going to have to meet you there.” In the background, I can hear people talking and things shuffling around like Jade is searching for something on her desk.
“I could pick you up on my way.”
“The event is closer to you than me.”
“Yeah. So?”
“That’s silly. It’s out of your way.”
I run a hand through my hair. Telling her I don’t mind going out of my way to pick her up won’t convince her, that much I know. Jade might very well be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. If I order takeout, she demands to pay me for half. Like I need twenty bucks. And after every event I attend with her, I wake up the next morning to breakfast or coffee made for me.
The day after I showed her the office space, she cleaned the kitchen, like super cleaned, even mopped the floor, and she made homemade blueberry muffins. I don’t even really like blueberries, but I ate every single one, afraid that if I didn’t, she’d do something else to repay the favor. God forbid, she bring home another piece of furniture that smells like a nineteen nineties pool hall.
I like doing things for her, and with her. I just like being around her. But man does she make it difficult to do nice things, knowing it’s going to make her feel like she needs to repay the favor. A part of me recognizes that her need for there to be an equal amount of give and take is a defense mechanism, but the other part of me, the more selfish and impatient part, knows what it really means is that she doesn’t fully trust me.
“Okay. I’ll meet you there,” I relent.
“Oh shoot. I need to change, and my dress is at the house. I’m leaving now. I’ll hurry.”
“Take your time.”
She ends the call before I can get the full sentence out. Twenty minutes later, Jade comes through the front door like a tornado. She tosses her bag on the floor and sprints up the stairs yelling, “Five minutes.”
I expect it to take much longer, but exactly five minutes later, she jogs back down, holding her shoes in one hand and lifting the hem of her red dress up with the other.
“Woah.” I’m frozen in place as she continues to rush around, getting her shoes on and shoving her phone and lipstick in a small black purse.
“Sorry, sorry.” When she finally looks up at me and finds me staring, slack-jawed, her expression morphs into something like confusion. “What?”
“You look…” I struggle to put together words. So fucking hot is what I’m thinking, but I temper my response. “Wow.”
A smile curves her painted red lips. “This old thing?”
“Price tag’s still on it.”
Gasping, she lifts both arms and swivels to find the nonexistent price tag.
“Kidding.” I step forward and offer her an arm. “Ready?”
She swats at my chest and then lets out a small laugh. “Yeah. I’m finally ready. Are you ready to go to this thing? I overheard some girls at work today saying it was a total snooze fest last year.”
“Yeah. I’m excited.”
She cuts me a glance that calls bullshit.
I lead her out to the car and open the passenger door. “I’m starving. Plus, I get to walk around with a super-hot chick all night. I think I’ll live.”
She laughs again. I fucking love making her laugh.
An hour into the most boring event ever, I’m second-guessing my earlier statement. I have had to sit through some really stuffy, boring team events, but this one beats them all. We’re seated at a table with four older men, who haven’t stopped talking about politics since we sat down.
“This is awful,” she whispers, “and the food is terrible.”
After I shove another piece of stale roll in my mouth, I nod. I’m about to ask her if she wants to make an escape when one of the men, I think he said his name was Dave, turns his attention to me.
“Tough loss last season.” He rests an elbow on the white tablecloth, flashing a Rolex.
“Yes, sir. It was.”
“How’s the wrist?”
I make a fist, instinctively, checking for any discomfort. Late last year, I broke it during a game and had to have surgery. Longest six weeks of my life.
“All good. I’m ready.”
Dave grins. “Is it true you stayed in that game against Tampa after you broke it?”
“I heard you stayed in the game and scored two goals,” the guy next to Jade leans over her and pipes in loudly. He’s had four glasses of scotch in under an hour, but he started out being loud, so I’m not sure his booming voice can be blamed on the alcohol.
“Don’t believe everything you hear.” I drop a hand on Jade’s thigh, and she jumps with surprise.
“I think I see an old friend across the room. Come with me to say hello?” I stand and offer her a hand.
She gets to her feet quickly. “Of course.”
Clutching her fingers in mine, I head across the room as she expects, but then duck out into the hall.
“Where are we going?”
“No idea.”
“You didn’t see an old friend, did you?”
Giving my head a shake, I come to a stop next to the wall and lean my back against it.
Jade places both hands on my chest as she invades my space. “You aren’t very good at being the center of attention, are you?”
“Tonight isn’t about me.” I cover both her hands with one of mine.
“It isn’t really about me either. I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to Robin. She’s an editor that’s been with the company for like twenty years. She’s a legend. But she isn’t even here. I’m sorry I made you come for nothing. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. I signed up for this, remember?”
I get an almost imperceptible nod. “Did you really play with a broken wrist?”
“Two games.”
“Why?” Both brows shoot up as she searches my face for understanding.
“The team needed me.”
Pushing off me, she takes a step back and glances down the hall in both directions. “Let’s get out of here and save whatever’s left of this evening.”
“Are you sure? I can go back in and booze and schmooze some more if it’ll help.”
“I’m positive. Those guys at the table don’t even know who I am.”
“You’re Jade freaking Davis.” I raise my voice and lift my arms over my head.
“And you’re ridiculous,” she says, but the smile it gets out of her is worth the stares in our direction. I’ll shout her name from the rooftops if it’ll make her happy.
When we get to the car outside, I go to the passenger side to open her door. That happy look is gone and replaced with a sort of somber expression.
“Thanks for tonight. I’m sorry it wasn’t very much fun.”
“I always have fun with you.” I wink at her.
“I can think of a lot funner ways we could have spent tonight.” Heat sparks in her eyes.
“Let’s get home and see if we can salvage the night then, huh?” I pull my keys from my pocket, then dangle them in front of her. “Wanna drive?”
“Really?!”
Fuck, the way her face lights up steals the breath from my lungs. I’m a total goner for my wife.
