It’s the day after I gave Lorena a ride home. I’m sitting in the office of my main convenience store, giving the books a quick once over, with my cell phone sitting on the desk, set to speaker mode. My son’s voice fills the small room.
“And thank you,” he goes on. “For giving her the car. She can be quite proud. She told me she was using her mom’s.”
“I think she was. But there were scheduling issues.”
“Either way, this is better.”
I sit back in the chair, the accounting book forgotten, as I try to think of a way to probe this subject.
“I’m just glad it isn’t awkward between the two of you,” I say.
“What? Why would it be awkward?”
This has to be the lowest of the low, carefully interrogating my son about his ex-girlfriend. But I don’t know what else to do.
After giving her a ride home last night, the signals in my body have become even more persistent, hot fire boiling through me every time I go over the conversation. Which is a lot.
I replay the moment she said I still have time to find someone. It took everything I had not to turn to her and tell her I already have. I’ve found her. The only woman I’ll ever need.
“Dad?” Jamie says.
I massage my forehead. I’ve been drifting off far too easily lately. “Because you were together in high school.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “That. Yeah… no, it’s fine, honestly. High school feels like a million years ago. We’re just friends.”
“You’re a better man than me, son.” I chuckle. “I’d find it difficult.”
“No, really. It’s not a big deal.”
“Even if you saw her with someone else?”
“Well, yeah. It’s fine. Why do you ask?”
Because I’m a piece of shit. Because I’m doing the one thing a father shouldn’t even think about. Because I want her for myself.
Lying to my son hurts, but ignoring his question is hardly any better. “Just making conversation. How’s work?”
We talk for a while longer. Jamie has made me so proud, moving out and working two jobs to make his own way and have his own space, and then landing the social media job earlier this year and kicking its ass. He’s a good kid, hardworking and dutiful, and I love him so much it hurts.
I love him, and yet I might end up breaking his heart.
I focus on work for the rest of the day, keeping myself busy so I don’t have time to think about everything else. Once my mind starts to stray toward Lorena, I put another work task in front of me, searching for things to do until I complete my daily to-do list by three.
After a hard workout, I hope I’ve worked myself to the point where I won’t think of her. But the moment my eyes close to sleep, she’s there in my mind, smiling softly as I tell her about Kendall’s cheating… there was so much emotion in her eyes and I could’ve sworn she was thinking about how she’d never do that. She’d never behave in that disloyal way.
Wordlessly telling me that, once we get together, she’s always going to be there for me, the same way I will be there for her.
The vision shifts to her sitting up in bed, her legs crossed, wearing a nightgown that leaves the perfect amount of cleavage to the imagination. I walk to the edge of the bed and lean down, bringing my hand to her breast and slipping it beneath the material of the nightgown—
My cell phone jolts me back to the present. I dart my hand out, my first thoughts about Jamie and Lorena. They come at the same time, my intense need for them both to be safe shocks me. I only properly met Lorena a couple of weeks ago. I’ve only seen her twice.
Sure, before that, when she was a kid, I saw her dozens of times. But that doesn’t count.
As far as Lorena the woman is concerned, it’s only been a short while. And yet my need to make sure she’s safe is as strong as if I’d been with her for years.
“Yes, hello?” I say, answering without checking the screen.
“Lukas?”
It’s Lorena. Her voice is shaky. In the background, I can hear raised voices.
Male voices. They’re not shouting, but there’s an aggressive tone there, one that gets my heart pumping and causes me to immediately jump out of bed.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“It’s not a big deal. They’re not doing anything. It’s those men from before. But they’re just making me feel super uncomfortable.”
“What have they said?” I growl.
“It’s stupid. They’re completely wasted.”
“Lori…”
It’s the first time I’ve used the short version of her name. There’s a hitch in her voice, as though she’s noticed the significance of it too.
“They said I have to do a little sexy dance before they leave. The laundromat is closer than the strip club, and—”