Ross had an uncanny ability of leaving you wanting to both hug and smack him. “You know, you’re very frustrating. I want to be angry, but you say all the right things, so I can’t call you out without seeming like a jerk.”
And damn the man. Between that smirk and the twinkle in his eyes, he knew exactly what I was talking about. But there were things he didn’t know—no one did—and I was determined to keep it that way. How do you tell someone, even your best friend, that you woke up one morning, forty, alone, and uncertain who you were? I sounded like a damn fool, and no one needed to know that but me.
Then there was the silly lie. Well, not really a lie, but call it a sin of omission. I was a native New Yorker but let everyone think I’d lived in LA all my life. When I moved back here, it took less than a month to reacclimate myself, and while I missed the ever-present ocean and sun-drenched warmth of Southern California, I fell right into the endless hustle and vibe of the city. It didn’t feel like over twenty years had passed. Not until that night when I swallowed my fear and pride and found Monroe.
That reunion did not turn out as I’d hoped.
The grilled shrimp that only moments ago smelled and tasted delicious now made my stomach turn. Instead of eating, I finished my wine and stood, my chair scraping noisily against the polished wooden floor. “I gotta go.” And fled like a coward.
Ross came running after me, and the wine had slowed my reflexes enough to prevent me from giving him the slip.
“Ezra, come on back inside, please. I’ll stop talking about you, promise. I won’t push anymore.”
“’S’okay.” I patted his shoulder and yawned. “I’m tired anyway. Been running around the whole week. I’m going home now, hopefully to sleep.”
Instead of releasing me, Ross’s hand tightened its grip. “What’s really the problem? Talk to me. Let me help you, like you’ve helped me.”
“Not going to happen. You know that old saying, ‘You made your bed, now go lie in it’? That’s where I’m headed. To go lie in a twenty-three-year-old unmade bed.” I jerked away from his grasp and took off, ignoring Ross’s plea to explain what the hell I was talking about.
I prided myself on a strong work ethic and negotiating the best for my clients, but the wine burning in my bloodstream turned me reckless. It was the only explanation that would account for my waiting outside Monroe’s support-group meeting to follow him home.
He’d grown into his height—gone was the skinny, long-limbed seventeen-year-old—and from the back, I admired his broad shoulders and well-muscled thighs, not to mention the curve of a very fine butt clothed in a tight pair of black dress slacks. Roe looked as good going as he did coming.
I tailed him to the same building he’d lived in when we were young, and noticed that it had been transformed from a lower-income housing development into a co-op.
How many times had I come home with him after school to do homework, only for us to end up in his bedroom, kissing as if starved for touch? My steps slowed as I approached the redbrick building on Ninth Avenue. What the hell was I doing following him? I stopped, and he whirled around.
“Were you going to come this far simply to run away again?” Roe’s eyes, narrow blue slits in his handsome face, held none of the warmth I’d seen at the one group session I’d attended. “You don’t need to answer that. Running is what you do best, isn’t it?”
“You still live here? Or are you visiting your parents?”
“I still live here. My father died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Several elderly women passed by us on their way to the entrance, and Monroe helped them with the door and their shopping carts. I couldn’t hold off a smile, thinking of Roe’s grandmother, Nettie, who’d lived in the apartment down the hall from him. I’d thought she was old even when we were sixteen and used to visit her after school. Before I left for California, I went to see her to say good-bye. She was funny, feisty, and wise, and I never forgot what she said to me.“I know you don’t want to go, but you have to finish high school and be with your parents. It’s good to have respect. But remember, it has to go both ways.”
Somewhere along the way, I’d given up.
“I remember Nettie. I’m sure you miss her.”
He gave me an odd look, then crossed his arms. “What do you want?”
Hell if I knew. When I showed up at his support group, I’d been all nerves and couldn’t handle sitting quietly next to him while he talked other people through their problems. I left and hadn’t made any attempt to contact him since.
“I thought maybe we could talk.”
A dusting of dark stubble covered his hard jaw, and suddenly I was in his bathroom, fifteen years old and learning to shave. He used to tease me about my light-blond fuzz, and I envied the dark scruff covering patches of his chin and wondered about the rest of his body. We took turns spreading the shaving cream over our faces, which led to it ending up in some other interesting places. The memory of Roe’s hesitant, gentle touch warmed me. It had been my first experience with desire.
“About what?”
Roe’s chilly response doused that flame. “Why are you so angry?” Already on edge, I let my temper flare. “I’m sorry I left your meeting in a rush, but I thought maybe we could talk now.”
He took a step toward me. “You’re unbelievable. Are you really that clueless, or are you just dumb?”
His words hit me like a slap. No need to shove it in my face that he was a doctor and I’d barely made it through college. I knew my limitations, thank you. Bristling at his words, I snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. And I have nothing to say to you either. You’re really good at running away, so why don’t you do that again, and this time don’t bother coming back.”
