She knew she should be angry at Michael, but she just couldn’t muster it.  Witnessing Carol’s rejection – or rather, witnessing his reaction to her thinly veiled rejection – had been simply painful.

And she really had the sense that he’d tried to kiss her not because he particularly wanted to, but more that he needed to escape, to just find a way to quell that rising ache.  She knew this because she’d felt it, too – only it hadn’t manifested itself in the desire to kiss someone else so much as to just be alone to think, to process.

She’d been so sure he’d text her back immediately – after all, receiving a text that read, M.  proposed 2 Carol – public. Awful – would surely have piqued his curiosity.  Aside from that, she knew Jim well enough to know that he’d have responded regardless, just because he was that kind of guy.

Unless he couldn’t for some reason.

As she’d driven Michael home, she’d turned the scenarios over and over in her mind.  Maybe Jonathan was visiting.  But Jonathan wouldn’t keep him from texting back.  Maybe he was out of town visiting an ailing grandmother. But why couldn’t he just step outside and send a quick text?

Maybe he was on a date.

By the time she’d pulled up in front of Michael’s condo, Jim’s date had – in her mind – progressed from a simple date to a romantic one to a full-on affair.  At this point, he was making love to some gorgeous woman who was tall and voluptuous, sophisticated.

Perhaps that had been why she’d gotten out of the car at Michael’s just long enough to give him a hug, whisper in his ear, “It’ll be okay, Michael.  You’ll find her some day.”

The look of sheer gratitude and hope and heartbreak on his face had caused a lump to swell in her throat.  Moments like this one made her understand why Jim had always been so patient with him.

Jim.  

On the way back to her apartment, she’d run over everything that happened on Casino Night a thousand times, then had struggled to recall the familiarity and comfort of their phone call.  It should’ve been plagued with awkwardness, bitterness even – but after that first few fumbling seconds, everything had fallen away and they were just them.

So real, so right.

Even if it had ended in an awkward misunderstanding – surely that alone hadn’t negated the hour and a half long conversation.  Surely not.

But another woman would.  Another woman who wouldn’t even blink before taking him to her bed, loving him back.  A woman who wouldn’t waffle or hide or say she just couldn’t.  

God, I screwed this up.  Just completely screwed it all up.  

She’d trudged inside her apartment, feeling silly all of a sudden about the impulsive text she’d sent.  Just because they’d had a great conversation the week before didn’t mean everything was okay; of course he wasn’t going to text her back.  Why would he?  Why should he?

She closed her eyes as she slid into the hot water, bubbles tickling her chin, her hair in a pile on top of her head.  She’d somehow never appreciated what a good bath could do when she was with Roy, and it struck her as odd that she’d discovered it only after she’d broken up with him and moved out. 

Then again, she’d discovered so many things in her newfound singlehood – that she loved the flicker of candles against a shadowed wall; that she was mesmerized by The Jeff Corwin Experience on Animal Planet – something about his quick wit and hysterical impressions of the animals; that she actually didn’t mind having the news on in the background as she got ready for work.

She’d also, oddly enough, begun sleeping in silky nightgowns since she left Roy, and it was yet another thing she couldn’t have explained.  She just felt like she was free now to explore other sides of herself – and that manifested itself in an unintentional celebration of her femininity.   It wasn’t that Roy had ever discouraged it; he’d have probably loved it if she’d slept in these kind of nightgowns when they’d been together, instead of one of his old tee-shirts.  It was just that now, she felt so much more in tune with what she wanted, what she needed, who she really was.

Difficult to articulate, really, other than to say that in the absence of another voice to drown out her own – a stronger, more domineering voice – she felt her identity flourishing, buoyed, springing to life like the west wind effortlessly sends a leaf flying once it’s fallen from the tree.

She pulled on a satin robe she’d gotten on sale at Target the week before – a sleek black satin on the outside, floor length, with a fleecy pink lining that felt like falling into a bed of cotton balls.  She’d poured a glass of wine – yet another thing she discovered only after she had left Roy – sinking onto her sofa and staring into space.

“I’m in love with you.”

Even when as he’d spoken the words, shocking her right to her core, she’d stared at his face, memorizing every detail, because she knew she’d want to replay it later – later, when it was safe to really react to it.

Because she’d forced herself to say mechanically, “I can’t,” even as she’d been thinking of all the reasons that she could.  Perhaps more significantly, she’d been painfully aware as she stared up at him that she so wanted to.

That was why she’d let go in his arms, her hands sinking into his soft hair, her lips responding to his, dizziness overtaking her, desire running so deep that it scared the hell out of her.

As she sat there alone on her sofa, she tried to convince herself that that was all she’d have – the memory of that night – and nothing more.  She needed to quit thinking about him, needed to move on from this.  Because fantasizing about him and texting him and jumping every time the phone rang accomplished nothing.

The knock at her door startled her; for a split second, she’d felt almost panicked, afraid that it was Michael.

She swung it open to reveal Roy instead – Roy, standing on her doorstep in a button down shirt and dark colored jacket, the look on his face one of a man tortured, a man who’d long since handed over the reins.

He looked both familiar and alien all at once – a stranger standing in front of her cloaked in the guise of comfort, familiarity.

“Hey.” His voice was gruff, those blue eyes darting away from hers.

She couldn’t speak for a second, simply because she was absolutely stunned at the sight of him.  Had he ever looked this attractive?  This mature? This refined?

“Hi.” Her voice was small, uncertain.  She knew on an instinctive level that she needed to start now – to stave off that attraction that was swelling in her.

You’re just upset and lonely and it’s been a crappy night.  And he looks good, but that doesn’t mean anything.  

She waved him inside then, hesitating before she offered him a glass of wine.  She’d never seen Roy drink a glass of wine; beer was his beverage of choice, always had been. 

How weird that I was with him for almost ten years and never saw him hold a wine glass.  

She hoped he’d scoff at the offer, or even just shake his head and ask if she had any beer.  Because that would’ve stifled some of what was swirling in her head.

When he accepted her offer, she was shocked – and something else she couldn’t put her finger on.

She hadn’t even realized she was wearing just that robe – or rather, that the fact that she was only wearing that robe would make things difficult for him.  But when she made her way back to the living room, handing him a large balloon glass a third of the way full of red wine, she saw his eyes shift to her clavicle, sweeping to her cleavage before quickly raising again, as if he knew that he didn’t have a right to look at her that way anymore – no matter how many times he’d seen her naked, touched her.  

No matter that he was the only man who’d ever seen her naked or touched her that way.

For a second she was reminded of that awful blind date, the way he’d appraised her like livestock – like it was just his right, and she should suffer it, not say a word about it. She’d been tempted in that moment to turn and exaggeratedly stare down at his crotch.

Odd that she’d never had occasion to see Roy as a gentleman, but now she suddenly did.

The large wineglass was dwarfed by his hand; as she noticed the way the stem balanced between his fingers, she was reminded of the first time he’d ever touched her there.  Her friends had warned her that it would hurt, that it’d be uncomfortable but would get better.  And yet she’d never known any pain beneath Roy’s touch; he’d been surprisingly gentle, cautious, careful...good at what he was doing. 

It was one of the things about him that made her fall in love with him in the first place – that he could be so strong, so hyper-masculine on the football field – and yet so gentle when they were alone.

“You look nice.” She finally forced herself to say, scanning the shirt and jacket.

“Thanks.” He was avoiding her eyes, as if it cost him dearly to look directly at her.

A long, awkward silence fell.

Just as she said, “So what’s – “ he’d said, “Listen, I need – “

They’d both stopped abruptly, then said at the same time, “Go ahead.”

She knew it should’ve made them laugh – the fact that they’d spoken in stereo – but it only made her feel sad. 

Strangely sad and something else.

“No, go ahead.” His eyes scanned her face.

“I was just going to ask why you’re so dressed up…and why you came over here this late on a Friday night.”

“Oh.” He nodded.  “Well, I just….”

He hesitated, took a deep breath.

“I’m dressed up because I went to the Diwali thing.” He wasn’t looking at her.

“You did?” She drew back. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I know.” He studied his hands for a second, then dared to look at her. “You were, uh…dancing with some guy when I got there.”

Her eyes fled from his guiltily – but also in an effort to collect herself, because she never would’ve dreamed he would react this way to seeing her casually dancing with someone else.  She honestly didn’t even remember that guy’s name now; he’d asked her to dance, flattering her, so she’d said yes – in the spirit of moving on, moving forward.

It had been nothing like that all-consuming burn she felt for Jim. 

The guilt ushered in desperation; the desperation gave way to vulnerability.

“Oh.” It was all she could think of to say.

He remained with his head bowed for a few more moments before he looked back up at her, lips shaking. “So…did you like him?”

“What?” She shook her head. “No, not at all – it…it wasn’t like that.  He asked me to dance, and I said yes because I felt stupid just standing there.  That’s all there was to it.”

Roy’s eyes were roving her face, as if to glean the truth he so desperately needed to believe. 

Yet another awkward silence. 

And then, as if against his will, he said in a rush of words, of breath, “It killed me to see you with that other guy.”

Her head bowed.

“I mean, Pam….” He shook his head. “I took for granted that you were just mine for so many years – I know that now.  I understand what I did wrong; I didn’t appreciate you.  I didn’t.  And you’re amazing – just…. You could have any guy you wanted, and….”

She bit her lip, thinking of Jim.  Not any guy.

He paused for a long moment, then: “It’s tearing me up that I had you once – that you were mine – and I screwed it all up.”

She raised her head then to look over at him, her jaw tilted slightly as if she’d deny what he said. But he went on.

“And if you just give me one more chance….” Those blue eyes were imploring her. “Just one more chance – I’ll never make the mistake of taking you for granted again, I swear.  Just…please.”

All she could do was stare, her heart aching, throat sore and raw.  There was guilt and affection and desire and something else.

She watched through half-closed lids as his eyes drifted to her lips.  Surreal to realize that he hadn’t looked at her this hungrily since they were teenagers – so long ago.  And now he was staring at her mouth, then back into her eyes as if she could save him somehow.

She knew he was going to kiss her, and truth be told, she wanted him to.  He looked incredible – so different, his eyes so vulnerable, beard making him appear like a Byronic hero almost, his body lean the way it had been when he was the star quarterback.

…Back when she’d located her self worth in the realization that, out of all the girls, he wanted her the most, had chosen her.

Kissing him back was something she just did without even thinking about it; she fully didn’t expect to feel much of anything.  The fact that she did surprised her.

“Pam…” He’d murmured against her lips, lowering his head to kiss just beneath her ear. 

When was the last time he kissed me there? Junior year? 

It was a heady feeling to just let go, his lips so familiar but so excitingly new all at the same time.  The beard made him seem that much more masculine, virile, as if he might just sweep her up in his arms, carry her to her bedroom.

For a few moments, she’d have liked nothing more than that – to press against him, flesh against flesh, to taste his sweat, feel him inside of her, maybe take a shower with him after.

He’d pulled back suddenly, one hand tracing her cheek as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you again.”

She froze, blinking, Jim in her mind’s eye, stunned and deliriously happy, his hands warm on hers.

So reverent the way he’d let go of her palms and backed away slowly.

“I can’t.” She stood suddenly, taking a few steps away from Roy, running a hand through her hair, absently clutching her robe tightly.

“Pam – “

“No, I just…” She shook her head, aching. “I’m so sorry, Roy; I didn’t meant to lead you on, or….”

A protracted silence fell, and then he found his voice: “Why can’t you love me the way that you used to?”

The answer was clear, though she didn’t dare say it aloud: Because I’m in love with someone else.