When her head fell to my lap and I pulled the blanket down over her shoulders, the thoughts spiraling like a cartoon scribble inside my head quieted.
Until they didn’t.
Until an entirely new panic set in.
I wanted more of this, and this alone. Of Aulie. Of the quiet. Of a soft flicker of a flame that burned for her instead of the wild, hungry blaze that constantly held me prisoner.
Myshe’s off-limitsmantra didn’t provide its usual dousing effect, and once again, I faced the reality of the situation.
I can act on my feelings and finally have a conversation with Aulie. One where I see only two logical outcomes, one much more likely than the other.
Either Aulie will return my affections and release me from five years of pent-up frustration and turmoil—or—and this is much more likely, she’ll tell me she’s sorry, but she doesn’t see me romantically and that I’ve made our friendship weird. She’ll need a break, and I’ll live the rest of my life in deeper agony without her.
Waiting for her in the car in the Desfleurs’ driveway, I square myself in my rearview mirror and admit the truth. “I am a giant weenie.”
“Are you now?” A sweet honey voice giggles over my right shoulder.
“Holy shit, Dessy.” My hand shoots to my hammering heart. “When did you get in here?”
“Did I finally get you? It’s all fun and games until you’re the one having the heart attack, right?” She drums her fingers together, all evil-like, with a mischievous smirk.
The woman doesn’t need to sneak up on me to give me a heart attack. Her bare legs crossed over each other do that just fine. I try to keep my eyes trained on her face, but they’re pulled in way too many fucking directions. In the little time I left her, Aulie changed into a sweater that drapes off one of her shoulders, and her hem, fuck, it’s landing mid-thigh. Her hair is now loose, cascading down her exposed back.
With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, I put the car into reverse.
“You okay?” Dessy asks.
I wear a hard, very necessary expression because I can’t let her see how much I want her. How much she’s decimating me. And I’m too tired, too fucked-up to control my emotions around her today.
“You forgot to wear pants.” A muscle clenches in my jaw, and I don’t know what I’m angry about. Me? Because of the weenie thing? Or because the only thing holding me back is that I don’t want to start a family for a while? Probably. Fuck it. I could start a family—with her.
Or is it that Aulie told me she thought I could play Wickham because I was like him, and the man is an asshole.
How shitty does she think I am?
“Oh.” She shifts uncomfortably in the seat, trying to pull her hem down, and now I feel like an even bigger ass. “Yeah. You probably don’t want to see that, huh? Sorry. I thought I’d try something new, but—”
“You look great, Dessy.” I put my hand on hers. “Really. Ignore me. I’m just in my head about some things—but you look—” I swallow down my pride. “You look beautiful, honest.”
Aulie turns her head, her mocha stare boring into me, but I keep my attention trained on the road. “Is it—is it the weenie thing?” she whispers.
“Hmm?”
“What you’re in your head about.”
“Yeah, that and a few other things.”
You think I’m a man whore. It’s my dad’s birthday, and I’m not at the game, and holy hell, you have nice legs, and I’m tempted to turn this car around so nobody else at the bar will see them.
Caveman. I am a caveman.
“Any thoughts on the whole Wickham thing?” she asks after a few beats of silence. “Like how you want to play it now that you’ve seen the movie?”
Images of Aulie’s fingers slipped into the crook of my arm as my wife come to mind.
As uncomfortable as the pants the men in the movie were wearing look, pretending she’s mine even for a small sliver of the day sounds glorious.
“Not really. Whatever you usually do with the characters is fine.”
