Pause (Larsen Bros)

The blowing of my nose sounds like the brass section of an orchestra. But there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m a soggy mess of a woman sitting on his new couch.

“It’s a really nice couch,” I say.

His smile is small but sweet. “You know, I bought it for you. On the off chance you ever came around again.”

“Thank you. I’m so sorry I kissed you. That was a horrible, terrible mistake.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I didn’t mean to . . . it was just, you were there and . . .”

“No problem,” he says with a trademark careless grin. “I like to think we’re getting all of our formative moments out of the way early. The accident, nearly getting into a fistfight with the soon-to-be ex-husband on the front lawn, you macking on me . . .”

The shame of it all. “Oh, God.”

He continues to rub my back. So comforting. Right up until he opens his mouth and says, “If you want to proposition me again in a couple of months then we can revisit the topic if you’re still interested.”

And now he’s definitely just being kind and trying to salve my pride. Thank goodness I stopped crying, at least. “It never happened and we are never discussing it again.”

“Well, that’s sad.”

I snort. This is the most embarrassing situation. And forgetting all of my lines in the grade-four play in front of the whole damn school wasn’t great. But this foolhardy performance in front of just one person is somehow far and away worse.

“Do you need more hugging?” he offers.

“No, thank you. I’m think I’m okay now.

“You know, you have an impressive amount of shit in that purse,” he says, peeking into the bag on my lap.

“It’s just my everyday stuff.”

“Huh.” He sticks his nose in a little further. “You won’t believe this, but I’ve actually been known to leave the house without a single tube of lip balm.”

“Shocking.”

“It’s real living-on-the-edge-type stuff, isn’t it?” he asks with that amused twinkle in his eye. “Sometimes I don’t even have a USB flash drive on me either.”

“I used to use it for work.”

“And the little notepad?”

“It’s not a notepad, its blotting paper for when your face gets shiny.”

“Right. That makes sense. What about the . . . is that a stain eraser pen? Holy shit, it is.” His hand rifles through the contents, making itself at home. “What kind of careless bastard am I to attempt life without one of those babies on my person at all times?”

“A stained one.”

He snorts. “Feel better?”

“I don’t know.” Only I must. Because when he smiles at me, I can’t help but smile back. The man is magic.

“There we go,” he says softly. Once again, Leif has made everything better. He is a great friend, loyal, kind, and true. I can only aspire to be as sweet as he is.

That my lips are still tingling doesn’t matter at all. “Let’s give being friends another go. I’ll try not to mess it up by running away, starting a fight, or throwing myself at you this time.”

He grins. “Promises, promises.”

“You kissed your new male friend?”

“Yes. But it was an accident,” I explain into my cell. “I was drunk and stupid.”

“You were drunk?” Briar’s voice rises about an octave. “You.”

“I can let my hair down occasionally and enjoy myself.”

“No you can’t. That stick up your ass won’t permit it. Or it hasn’t up until now. Maybe the accident dislodged it.”

“That’s harsh,” I grumble.

“It’s the truth.”

“Be nice to me, my life is spiraling.”

She just laughs. I love the sound of her laughter. It’s so joyous and never fails to make me smile.

“At any rate,” I say. “I didn’t mean to be attracted to him, so sublimating these unwanted feelings with friendship should be easy.”

“Sure. Okay.”

“It’s not like I don’t have enough other issues to deal with.”

“Yep. Best of luck with that,” she says. “You need to come to New York so we can visit some jazz clubs and I can experience Anna 2.0 in action.”

“In case you missed it, Anna 2.0’s maiden voyage didn’t go so well and she’s been shelved indefinitely, put in cold storage, and hidden away in a corner of the attic.” I wrinkle my nose. “Also, I don’t understand jazz.”

“You don’t need to understand it. You just need to be open to it speaking to you.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“You made out with someone who doesn’t wear a suit to work. Amazing.”

“Is it really, though?”

“Yes,” she says, tone adamant. “This is quite the kick against your programming.”

Ryan hasn’t come near me since the flowers incident. No texts or calls since the divorce papers were served. I almost miss his visits, having someone different to talk to, hearing about their everyday ordinary life. Almost, but not quite. Which just goes to show how sad my life can be. Though I definitely don’t miss being reminded of his betrayal. I haven’t lost my mind entirely.