On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20) (15 page)

“We only have a month before school begins. We should do some traveling.” And then he added, “There are so many places I’d like to show you before April.”

Immediately tears began to sting her eyes. Unwilling for him to see how his words affected her, she stood quickly. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”

When she jumped up the way she did, John could see something was clearly the matter, but he hadn’t a clue what. “Doing what?”

“You don’t have to remind me over and over that this will end in April. I get it!” Her last words were sharper than she intended. Softening her tone a bit, she added, “You don’t have to worry about me hanging on once our agreement expires. I can think of no other reason you would feel the need to constantly bring it up.” Already, she was moving to her small desk. It sat behind the loveseat that ran at a right angle near the sofa where John was still sitting. Taking out a sheet of paper, she began rummaging around, looking for a marker.

Shocked by her outburst, John stammered, “I didn’t really mean it as a reminder. I’m sorry.” Actually, the more he thought about it, maybe he did. Maybe he needed the reminder as much as he feared she did. Just
the fact that he was there for a home-cooked meal and afterwards he was nestled in on the sofa with her proved it. Since returning from Sydney, he needed the reminder daily.

“Trust me; I know this is not
real
,” she snapped again. “You’ve made that perfectly clear from the very beginning.” She found the large black marker and began to write.

The smell of the marker wafted through the air. He could only wonder what she was writing, but wouldn’t dare ask. Having never seen her angry, or more likely hurt, he could only appreciate how she was so willing to speak her mind. Wasn’t that what he wanted for her, to find her voice? Only once had she come close to doing such a thing, and this time, she had certainly found her voice. Intrigued, he continued to watch her as she took the paper, spun around, and marched off to the kitchen. Once in there, he heard the distinct sound of duct tape unwinding. Curious beyond what he was able to bear, he stood and walked into the kitchen. She was taping a note to the refrigerator that read:
John and Chelsea expire on 4/19
.

Slapping the note twice, she offered, “There. Problem solved.” The look of regret in his eyes caused her to regret her outburst. Never had she thought he was saying those things to hurt her. Always she knew he was trying to protect her feelings. Clearly, her growing feelings for him had been obvious for some time. But if it concerned him so much, then why had he so willingly drawn nearer? And he had. Prior to their trip, he would have never come for dinner or stopped by just to invite her to dinner. Things were different. He was different. He was taking as many steps toward her, maybe even more, as she was toward him.

The sight of their expiration date caused his heart to plummet into his stomach. As much as he intended on sticking to the contractual end date, the sight of it in writing affected him more than he could have anticipated. Reaching for it, he said, “Don’t.”

She moved his hand, and with her voice barely above a whisper, said, “Leave it. I will see this every day, so you’ll never need to remind me again.” Leaving him there, she moved through the living room and toward the large doors leading out to her balcony. Knowing that tears would soon come, she wanted to be as far away from him as she could
when that happened. She’d already made a fool of herself. If he saw her cry, she would feel even more humiliated.

For a moment more, John stood looking at the note on the refrigerator. Certainly, he’d never meant to hurt her. He never intended to feel what he felt for her, and he never intended for her to care about him the way her actions demonstrated. Still, no matter their feelings, it would have to end. It was ridiculous to think otherwise.

Finding her out on the balcony, he walked over and stood beside her. He leaned with his forearms against the railing and looked out over the landscape of Beverly Hills, sighing heavily. Without turning to look at her, he offered, “I’m very sorry I hurt you. I’ll never say it again.” Adding to his apology, he admitted, “I guess it was a reminder for both of us. But I never intended it to hurt you. I wanted to protect you.”

Hurriedly, she wiped a tear from her cheek before he could see it. His voice was soft and his words sincere. “I know you never meant to hurt me. But every time you bring up April, it makes me feel disposable. I hate that feeling.” Wiping her face again, she offered, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I was so proud that you said what you felt.” Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it, saying, “Chelsea, you’re anything but disposable.” That word rang again in his head. Chelsea wasn’t the first woman he made feel that way. Before, though, he honestly didn’t care. He could truly dispose of any woman without ever looking back. It was different with her. Just the idea that he made her feel that way caused him to physically ache inside. In that moment, he had a choice to make. Because she had developed feelings for him, just as he had for her, the wisest choice would be to simply walk away. No matter what he felt, there was no future for them, so to continue on would only bring her more pain in the long run. But the one time she dared to look up at him, those big brown eyes melted any resolve he may have had. Willing to do just about anything, he said, “Tell me what you want from me.”

She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. For just a moment, she feared voicing her hopes. What if she told him what she wanted and he walked away? What if it all ended that night and she never saw him again? Finally, no matter the possible outcome, she admitted, “I
want this to be real. Even though I know it can’t be forever real. For now, I want it to be real.” When he slid his arm around her and pulled her closer to him, she said, “I like being with you, and I
know
you like being with me. If we have parameters set, why then can’t this be a real relationship? I want to know who I am to you. I hate to hear you introduce me as, ‘This is umm, Chelsea.’” What was first amusing soon became something that caused her a great deal of embarrassment.

She said it in a mocking tone, making him sound like a caveman. He actually found it rather humorous. Smiling, he asked, “Is that what I sound like?”

Smiling back, she said, “That’s often what you sound like. There is this uncomfortable moment where you don’t know how to introduce me, and then once you do, everyone looks at me like,
what is an umm Chelsea?
At the office, I can hardly find honest excuses to turn down dates. I can’t exactly say I’m in a relationship, because I’m not. I don’t know
what
I am except your intern or your escort.”

John flinched at the mere possibility of her accepting a date from someone at work. The thought of her out with any other guy made him suddenly willing to do whatever it took to prevent that. Turning her to face him, he cupped her face in his hands. Softly, he asked, “What do you want to be?”

Without hesitation, Chelsea admitted, “I want to be yours. I want you to be mine, at least for now.”

He wanted that, too, but he knew how dangerous it would be for both of them. Already, their feelings were beyond what they agreed. How could they settle into a temporary relationship without being realistic enough to know how painful it would be to walk away from each other? “That’s what I want too, but Chelsea, if we do this, do you understand how hurtful it may be…” He didn’t dare mention April. Instead, he said, “This can’t be forever. I never intend to marry again. I’ve been honest with you from the beginning.”

“I know that. But it can be for now. No one goes into any relationship with the certainty of forever. For us, we just happen to know our end date. Honestly, it’ll hurt now or then. Can’t we just enjoy being together now?”

“There’s nothing I want more.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly. Warning bells sounded loudly in his head. What a foolish thing to agree to. But the feel of her against him caused the alarm to fade quickly into the background of his mind. As much as he tried to ignore it, he’d often wondered what it would feel like to hold her, to really hold her, for more than comfort as he had in Vegas and the day he first brought her to the condo. Tonight, he held her intimately, with a different meaning entirely. With her so near, the sensation of it was beyond what he expected. He was at peace. Everything about Chelsea felt so right, even when he knew it could only be wrong.

His embrace brought her a sense of wellbeing like she hadn’t known in many years. The way his fingers circled delicately around in circles on her back, the way his breathing quickened at their closeness, the world suddenly seemed to make sense, as if she’d always belonged in his arms. Looking up at him, she said, “Another thing I want: I want to feel free to call or text you any time, like a real girlfriend.”

He never knew she didn’t feel free to do that. Come to think of it, she almost never called him. He could probably count on one hand how many times she had, and each of those times it was for a specific reason. “You
can
call or text me anytime. Have I ever made you feel as if you couldn’t?”

“Not really. But you were calling all the shots. This was
your
arrangement. I was
your
employee, basically an on-call employee.”

Hearing her speak their terms aloud, he felt pretty disgusted with himself. Of course she felt of little worth to him, disposable even. Nothing was further from the truth. If she only knew how often he fought the urge to call, fearing he would be invading her personal time.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “Sorry for how I’ve treated you, sorry for how I’ve made you feel. You mean more to me than you could possibly know.” Grinning, he promised, “I’ll get better at this.”

Taking her hand, he led her back indoors and to the sofa. Sitting down, he pulled her down to sit next to him. Turning to face her, he said, “Chelsea, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. I want this to be exclusive, no dating anyone else, you or me. You can call me or text me anytime,
day or night. If you need milk at three a.m., I’m your guy. When we are at a party, I’ll say, “This is my girlfriend, Chelsea. And yes, I know I’m old enough to be her father.”

“Don’t say that.” She couldn’t help but smile. He was plunging into something that he had run from for many years, and she understood how difficult it must be for him.

“Will it bother you when we get those looks?”

“We get those looks now, and it doesn’t bother me.”

“They think you’re a gold-digger and I’m a dirty old man.”

“I know what they think, but we know better.”

“Okay, if I’m your boyfriend,” he could hardly call himself that at the age of forty-eight, but he continued anyway, “does that mean I finally get to kiss you?”

Biting at her lip, she nodded. Reaching up, she touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek. It was rough to the touch. His days began so early that it had been many hours since he’d shaved.

Suddenly, the mood was not quite so playful. John was looking into her eyes and realized he’d crossed a line already that would certainly prove to be a mistake. Her fingers on his skin caused his heart rate to steadily increase. Somehow he knew once he kissed her, there would be no turning back. Leaning in slowly, watching her eyes flutter closed, the moment felt suddenly awkward, too forced to be the right time. Pulling away, leaving her there puckered up in anticipation, he said, “This is too contrived. It’ll happen when the time is right.”

Swatting at him, she said, “That was just plain mean.”

He laughed and pulled her to him, relieved that they had come to an understanding, one that would make her happy and keep her with him, for the time being anyway. What she said before was true, it would hurt now or then. Why would he not take whatever time he could have with her? In the back of his mind, he held on to the one thing he knew would keep them both safe. Come April nineteenth, he would walk away. It was what was best for them both. It was their safety net.

Not long before midnight, Chelsea walked with John to the door, and again, the moment felt awkward, so she wasn’t sure if he would try to kiss her goodnight. Remaining still as he walked through the doorway,
she watched as he turned back to face her. His jacket was hooked on one finger, hanging across his shoulder. With that crooked smile of his, in that moment, she was sure he had never looked more handsome. When he reached for her face, she found she was holding her breath, so she tried to quietly exhale. He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her nearer. Gently, he pressed his lips to hers. It was soft and simple, a beautiful first kiss.

When he raised his head and looked into her eyes, he knew beyond any doubt, he was falling for this very, very young woman. “Goodnight, Chelsea.”

No doubt googlie-eyed, she whispered, “Goodnight, John.”

As soon as she was alone, she went immediately to get her phone. She texted: Best:
my first kiss in five years
. Worst:
feeling disposable
.

John was on the elevator when his phone sounded. Reading her text, he replied: B:
you’re mine
. W:
Making you feel disposable
.
You’re anything but
. Just as he hit
“Send”
the elevator doors opened. Allowing the doors to close again, he pressed the button to return to her floor.

Chelsea was standing out on the balcony watching for his car to pass through the gates when she heard the knock. She opened the door and found John standing there with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“First one in five years. Really?”

“Really.”

“I could’ve done better.” Stepping forward, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. This time, he did so with the intention of making up for five years of not being kissed. So quickly did the kiss intensify, that before he knew it, he had pressed her against the open door for better traction. Long and with little reserve, he kissed her. Finally, lifting his head, he looked into her eyes and whispered, “The first of many. I promise.”