Nancy Warren - Aftershocks

Patrick no longer had to hold up the entire adult end of the conversation. He had help.

Not that the kids needed a lot of prompting to talk. They couldn’t wait to tell about their days at school.

“How did you do on your biology test?” Patrick asked his son, remembering they were getting the tests back today.

“I got an A,” Dylan said with simple pride.

“That’s great,” he and Briana said in unison.

“I had to draw a picture of my favorite animal in school,” Fiona informed them.

“What did you draw?” Briana asked her.

“Dylan,” she said.

It was at moments like this, when his eyes met Briana’s in shared amusement, that he realized he’d been lonely. Not the all-by-yourself-with-no-one-to-talk-to lonely. He had a full life as a single dad with a busy job. But lonely in a purely adult way. He missed having a woman in his life. Not just for sex, though he sure as hell missed that, but for companionship. Someone with whom he could make plans for the future, delegate chores, worry over the kids. He missed having a wife and he knew his children missed having a mother.

“Dad, it’s rude to stare.” Dylan’s remark brought him back to the present.

“Hmm?” He blinked and realized that he had been staring at Briana, probably with the same lovesick gaze his son had turned on her earlier. “Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“We watched you on TV, Daddy!” Fiona said, breaking the tension and allowing them to rehash the call-in show.

“I think we’ll get our funding now,” he told Briana with a smile.

“I’m so glad. Congratulations, you’ve worked tirelessly for that funding.”

“You helped a lot, you know.”

“Well,” Briana said, rising from the table, “the only thing I could find for dessert was chocolate pudding. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sweet!” Dylan yelled, jumping up immediately to help clear the plates without even being asked.

Fiona had recently started helping also, though it was painful for Patrick to watch her carry her plate to the dishwasher, her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated on not letting her knife and fork slide off the plate.

“What a big help you guys are,” Briana said. “Thanks so much.”

After they’d had the pudding, Patrick insisted on finishing the dishes and Briana started to make noises about leaving. “Could you stay and read me my bedtime story?” Fiona asked.

“Um, well, I really should-”

“Briana has to go home to her own house, Fi,” Patrick reminded his daughter. Fiona’s lower lip began to tremble. Oh, boy. It looked like the entire family had a crush on his admin assistant.

“Well,” Briana said, glancing helplessly at him, “I guess I could read you one story.” She disappeared down the hall with Fiona.

After he’d done the dishes, checked his phone messages and gone through the mail, Patrick headed down to Fiona’s bedroom to find all three of them in there. Dylan had obviously decided to listen to the story rather than read quietly to himself, as he usually did.

Patrick paused in the doorway and watched the trio. His gut tightened. It was a wonderful picture, a great fantasy. Why the hell couldn’t it be real? All Briana had to do was take another job, a job he’d find for her, and they could spend as many nights like this as she was willing to spend. She seemed to like his children, she seemed to enjoy his company, and unless he was badly off the mark, she’d enjoyed their intimacy the other night.

What was holding her back from changing jobs?

“The end,” she said, and closed the book, returning it to the shelf. She’d glanced up and seen him standing there. “It’s time for me to go now,” she told the kids.

Fiona held her arms up mutely for a hug. Briana hesitated a moment, then walked over and hugged her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Fiona.”

“Night.” Fiona rolled over and pulled her favorite stuffed bunny into her arms.

Dylan walked to his own room and Briana followed him. Patrick stepped to his daughter’s bedside and dropped his own kiss on her forehead. “Night, sweetheart.”

“Night, Daddy. Love you.”

He was in time to see Dylan get the same kiss on the forehead that his sister had, and as Patrick passed Briana in the doorway, their bodies brushed. Oh, man, he wanted more than a kiss on the forehead from this woman.

Once he’d said good-night to his son, he walked back to the kitchen. Briana was standing there with her shoes on and her bag in hand. Suddenly, the atmosphere, which had been so easy all evening, turned awkward. “Well,” she said, running her fingers back and forth on the strap of her purse, “I’ll get going.”

He nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”

The night was warm for March, and the jacarandas for which the neighborhood, Jacaranda Heights, was named were in full bloom, their scent soft and evocative in the warm night air.

“You don’t need to walk me to my car.”

“I want to. I want to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

He waited until they were standing by her car. She unlocked the driver’s side but he stilled her hand before she opened the door. “Both my kids got a good-night kiss. What about me?”

She shook her head, refusing to look at him.

He struggled to suppress his frustration.

“I don’t suppose I could fire you again until tomorrow morning?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head once more.

“What I’d really like to do is fire you permanently.”

That got her to look up at him. Her eyes were a vivid green in the light from the streetlamps. “You’ve got no reason-”

He pulled her to him and kissed her with all the pent-up feeling and passion he’d been tamping down since the night in the elevator.

She gave a gasp of shock and stiffened for a second, then seemed to melt into him. She kissed him back, as hungrily as he was kissing her, and he knew one thing. She was as crazy for him as he was for her.

Why then wouldn’t she help him make things right?

He pulled away at last, panting and shaken. He was appalled at the sharpness of his desire. “That’s my reason,” he said.

She put the tip of her tongue out and touched her lips as though amazed at what she and Patrick had just done. “I can’t leave my job now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated, Patrick.”

“What the hell is so complicated about it? Do you think Max Zirinsky or Dan Egan wouldn’t kill to have you on their staffs? Or there are positions at the hospital at a higher level, with a correspondingly higher wage. What’s so complicated about that?”

“I like working in municipal government. That’s what I trained in.”

“Well, there’s plenty of politics in policing and hospital administration.”

She rubbed her arms as though she were chilled. “I…I made a commitment. I can’t break my word.”

“Break it. I don’t care. Of course, I’ll never find an assistant as good as you. I’ll survive. But what about this?” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and felt her quiver of response, watched her head tip back so he could kiss her. He spoke softly and from his heart. “Do you think this happens every day?”

She shook her head.

“Briana,” he said, realizing he had to be honest with her and let her know what he was feeling, “I’m falling in love with you.”

She gasped and made a shushing sound, but now that he’d gone this far, he’d give her all of it. “My kids are falling in love with you. Isn’t that worth something?”

“L-love?” she asked, as though it were an unfamiliar term.

“I know it’s too soon to be talking like this, and maybe things won’t work out between us, I don’t know. But I’d sure like to give it a try. In three years I haven’t met anyone who makes me feel as-I don’t know, as alive, I guess, and full of hope about the future as you do. Please, won’t you think about it?”