Changing Course (27 page)

Brett doesn't talk about Sarah, or even acknowledge she exists. That doesn't mean it escapes me when he disappears on Thursdays. I don't ask questions, and he doesn't offer any answers. I've grown to dread Thursdays. Always worrying about what’s going to happen. Is she going to go to assault him? I can't help but feel like one day she is going to realize what she is letting go and want Brett back. I can't compete with her. He spent years loving her, maybe he still does. I can't think like that though. I promised myself to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it's a struggle.

My mind goes wild with ideas. I understand what he is doing by spending time with her, and why he does it. It still hurts like hell when he disappears every week though. Like clockwork, he calls me every Thursday night at eight. And even though we only live three miles from each other, we spend two hours talking on the phone.

I'd love to see him every night, but as wild as things got in those first few days we were together, I know it's best if we take this slow. By slow, I mean, having sex every time we are in a fifty yard radius of each other. Brett is always in the mood, and trust me, one look at Brett "in the mood" would put you in the mood too.

One day last week, he had an early meeting at work, so he came for breakfast around ten. Nell's was empty. The breakfast rush has come and gone. I was excited thinking it would give us time to talk and hang out. Brett had other plans. He flipped the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and dragged me into the back office for a mid-morning quickie. It was better than his usual middle of the night quickies that we have on the weekends when I sleep over at his apartment. Brett may have made me a little more adventurous, but that doesn't mean I've completely escaped my shy ways.

For days after the office make out session, I wondered if there are cameras in the office. I went so far as to freak out one day when I realized I probably just made a porn that one day my mother and brother would stumble across on the internet. I don’t know why my mother would be looking at porn on the internet, but that doesn't make the thought any less consuming.

I was so nervous, one night I woke up Kara to ask if there were any cameras. Of course, she knew the answer to this question and assured me Nell isn't that high tech. She then told me all about her sexcapades in that office, thus ensuring that it was a one-time deal for Brett and me. I'll never be able to look at that office desk the same way again.

By early November, Brett and I were floating right along in our non-relationship relationship. We pretend that what we are doing isn't serious, but we both know its pretending. One Friday night, when we get home from the most amazing greasy dinner at a hole in a wall restaurant twenty miles outside of town, he surprises me by asking me about my holiday plans.

"So, gorgeous, tell me what you do for the holidays?" he asks when he pulls up to his apartment.

"Well, Thanksgiving I usually spend the day at my mom's house. I help her cook while my brother sits on his lazy butt watching football. Then Christmas, I usually just hang with Kara. My mom goes to visit her sister down in Florida for a week, and Eric goes to his college fraternity Christmas party in Boston." I stop talking when an annoyed look crosses his face. "What's wrong?"

"Your brother goes to a fraternity party and leaves his little sister alone on Christmas day?"

"It's no big deal. Kara's family lives in Washington, and tickets are too expensive that time of year. For the last few years, we've had Christmas Eve spa nights. Then we spend Christmas day watching movies and spiking our hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps. If I was with Eric, then Kara would be alone. Really, it works out best for everyone."

"Bullshit!"

"Um, excuse me?" I ask, startled by his reaction.

"Bull. Shit." He repeats slowly, so there is no confusion about his opinion on the situation. "There is no way I would leave my sisters alone on Christmas. That's a special day that is meant to be spent surrounded by family. So I have a big problem that he would think his douchebag fraternity brothers are more family than his own blood," he finishes, blatantly upset.

"Okay, I agree that my brother is a...douche, but I disagree about everything else. I do spend Christmas with my family. Kara. You think her being alone is better than us having a fantastic day laughing and watching A Christmas Story and getting drunk? Seriously, that movie only gets funnier when you've been drinking. I love my brother, he's great and would do anything for me, but it would be a miserable day spent staring at each other. We still fight like we are twelve. I'm not even joking, last time I saw him he tied my shoe laces together. He may be a fancy big wig attorney now, but he's still my annoying older brother deep down. Before you judge me, what exactly do you do during the holidays?" I ask, throwing some sass in his direction.

"For the last four years, I've worked every Thanksgiving. I volunteer so none of the guys with families have to work. My sisters both go to their in-laws. So it's not like I'm missing anything. Christmas, on the other hand, is kind of a big deal with my family. Every year we get together at my parent’s house. Everyone, including all five of my nieces and nephews, spends the night and we wake up the next morning to my mom’s homemade monkey bread and breakfast casserole. Santa comes for the little kids in the early morning. Then while they are playing with their toys or sleeping from a sugar crash after eating the entire contents of their stockings, the adults swap presents." He shrugs likes it’s no big deal, but it makes me pale. Jeez, after hearing about mine and Kara's Christmas drink-a-thon, it really is sad.

"Let's go in, Jess. I don't want you getting cold, and that shirt isn't going to do much to keep you warm," he says, glancing down at my pink scoop neck sweater revealing a good bit of cleavage. This is yet another item from the Kara Reed collection.

"Are you working this year? On Thanksgiving, I mean."

"Nah, the guys caught on that I've worked the past few years, so Smith signed up to work before I could. He gave me some speech about being happy to avoid his in-laws, but I know it’s a load of shit."

Before I give myself a chance to really think it through, I rush out an invitation that I know is going to freak him out.

"Spend Thanksgiving with me and my family."

"No, babe. That wasn't the point of this conversation. You go spend time with your family, maybe afterward you can come spend the night and give me all the thanksgiving I need," he jokes, but his smile doesn't quite reach his deep green eyes.

I know this isn't going to be an easy fight to win. He doesn't even know it’s a fight yet. But he's already lost this battle. No way am I leaving him home alone on his first Thanksgiving off in years.

"Please come, Brett! You can watch football with my brother, while mom and I cook. We always make so much food. You can help keep it all from going to waste. Please! I can introduce you as a friend. It doesn't have to be a ‘meet the parents’ situation. I know we are taking this slow, but I'm not going to let you spend Thanksgiving alone. Please!" I whine, begging like a child.

He rolls his eyes and lets out a loud sigh, "Alright babe, no need to start batting your eyelashes. I'll come. What kind of beer does your brother drink?"

I squeal, launching myself over the small center console and into his lap. He really needs a bigger car. I'm not a big girl, but this thing is tiny. I only manage to get my upper body over it before getting stuck so I work with what I've got. I smash my chest against Brett's, then give him a deep passionate kiss.

He laughs against my lips, "I vote we start thanksgiving tonight. You don't happen to have an Indian costume do you?" he asks, reaching behind my awkwardly positioned body. He shoves both hands into my jeans and squeezes my butt.

"Brett, your hands are freezing!" I try to jump away, but he's holding me too tightly and there isn't anywhere to go in this sardine can-sized car anyway.

"I know, I told you we should get inside. Just give me a minute, I'm warming up my hands." He laughs, gripping me while I squirm to get out of his icy grip. It's no use though, he is so much bigger and stronger than I am. I can, however, hit him where it really hurts, and I'm not talking about actually laying a finger on him.

"If you don't stop now, I'm not, um... having sex with you tonight." For some reason this only makes him laugh louder.

"Oh sweet Jesse, don't make threats you can't follow through with."

"I could totally withhold sex for one night," I say, feigning confidence.

"Well how about this gorgeous, we don't waste time trying to figure it out. Trust me, no one wins in that situation." He's so right. I might be annoyed with him, but I was so looking forward to a night spent naked with Brett.

"Can we just go inside, the beer in your fridge is calling my name."

"Why Jesse Addison, are you becoming a lush on me?

"Probably," I answer truthfully. I have been drinking more since I met Brett, but there is just something about curling up on the couch together and drinking a few beers.

"Well, I like it! You always get a little kinkier when I'm fucking you after a few beers." He opens his door, and heads around the car to open mine.

If there is one thing I will never get used to about Brett, it's that he's always a gentleman. Yes, I do realize I called him a gentleman after he said something about f-ing me. That's just Brett though. He drops the F-word like it's a comma. If he's drinking, it spans all parts of speech: noun, verb, pronoun, adjective. At first it shocked me, but now I kind of like it. I hate to say it, but I've accepted his colorful vocabulary as part of the sexy Sharp package. It might make me a naive fool, but hearing him refer to our nightly bedroom activities like that makes me a little hot. Okay, I'll admit it, a lot hot.

"So Thanksgiving at my house?" I question one last time before stepping out of the car. I want to make certain we're on the same page.

"I already said yes. Thanksgiving at your house. I'll bake a pie or something."

"No!" I shout, startling him.

"Jesus! What is wrong with you?" He stops in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Brett, I've tasted your cooking. The last thing I need is my mother and brother keeling over from food poisoning. Just bring beer, and don't get any ideas about brewing it yourself."

“Damn, that was harsh! Just for that, I'm taking it nice and slow tonight." He continues to my door.

"Is that a bad thing? Because it sounds pretty, um...stimulating to me."

"Oh, babe, you have no idea what you are saying right now." He drags me into his apartment.

A few hours later he proves that nice and slow isn't always good. It's torturous, and my absolute new favorite.

Jesse

O
N SATURDAY
night, I arrive at the bar to meet Caleb and Brett. The guys spent the evening smoking cigars and having drinks for one of the detectives’ retirement party. Brett called earlier asking if I wanted to meet them out, or if I would rather stay in for night. As appealing as staying in on a cold and windy Chicago night sounded, we do that all the time. Going out sounded like fun, especially when Brett told me it was a dance club and not our normal sports bar. Since we were doing something out of our norm, it gave me the opportunity to wear something special too.

After shopping for three hours this afternoon, I found a super short navy blue dress. I wanted to wow Brett. That’s what keeps relationships alive, right? This little dress should have no problem spicing things up. The top crisscrosses in the front doing a great lift and push together trick on my boobs. I paired it with the same knee boots of Kara's that I wore on our first date at the Bears game. Brett spent the whole night staring at my legs, so I know he liked them. I must have been lost in my thoughts because I didn't see Eric until I slammed into his chest.

"What are you wearing?"

Rubbing my cheek where I face-planted into my brother’s chest, I look up to see a furious look on his face. "Jeez, Eric. What the heck is your problem?"

"Are you aware you just walked into a bar...in your underwear?" he asks like I have lost my mind. Apparently that’s what he thinks I have on, because he quickly takes off his suit jacket and throws it over me.

"Stop it, you're going to mess up my hair," I say, swatting his stupid jacket away.

"Jesse, what are you doing here?” He leans into my face trying to intimidate me. He is such a jerk sometimes. I swear he still treats me like his seven year old baby sister.