Isabel Sharpe - Just One Kiss

Inside, he wheeled his bike through their front hallway into his bedroom and leaned it against the wall, which was already marred with scuff marks from previous handlebar encounters. He dug out the cupcake box from his bag, and yanked his empty water bottle from its cage on the bike, feeling restless, grimy and stuck in a cage himself, from which the ride had liberated him only temporarily. The small apartment with gray carpet and his room with bare, white walls—his own fault for not hanging pictures—didn’t help.

A shower got rid of the grime, but didn’t help his mood. Pounding on Jake’s door quieted the music, but underscored the painful fact: some days he just had to get through. Luckily Jake understood. The two men had met at Slatewood International, where they designed software to stay ahead of increasingly sophisticated hackers, and had formed a fast friendship. After Kate’s accident, Jake had been solid, taking Daniel in, and developing an uncanny sense of when to kid him out of a scowl and when to back off, when to prod him into talking and when to leave him alone.

Sometimes Daniel felt he owed Jake his sanity—however much of it he still had left. Kate would approve. Sort of. She and Jake got along like fire and ice. She thought Jake was a shallow butthead; he thought Kate was an uptight bitch. Daniel had sat in the middle, rolling his eyes at both of them.

In the kitchen, he pulled the steak out of the refrigerator to warm up, and put the brown-and-wild rice mixture on the stove to cook. Daniel was a bread man, always preferred it to rice or potatoes, preferably fresh the way it had looked at Angela’s bakery, thick slices spread with softened butter.

Did she get up early every morning and make it herself? He pictured her, drawn-back hair emphasizing her heart-shaped face, flour dusting her high cheekbones, room warm with the fresh, yeasty smell of dough.

But tonight, for Kate, he’d eat rice.

With leaden movements, he pulled down the bottle of her favorite Washington State cabernet from Donedei vineyards, got out the fancy corkscrew she’d bought him and hesitated. Before he met Kate, he’d been a beer guy, and reverted to being one after her death, since he associated wine so strongly with their relationship.

The bottle went back up on the shelf for another, easier day. Too many triggers. Fine line between honoring her memory and needlessly torturing himself. Kate of all people would understand. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed out a Mack & Jack’s Serengeti Wheat beer and felt himself relax a little.

“Hey.” Jake ambled into the kitchen and gestured at the steak. “Nice piece of meat. What’s the occasion?”

“Kate’s birthday.” He answered automatically, robotically. “Her favorite meal.”

“Oh. Yeah, um. Okay.” Frowning, he grabbed a beer, popped off the top and took a long swig. “So. How are you doing on all that?”

Daniel took a long swig himself, wanting to laugh at the perfect sitcom moment. Two guys drinking beer, trying to talk about emotions. “Okay.”

“You’re celebrating her birthday tonight.” His tone made it clear he thought the idea was beyond moronic. Jake was not exactly the sentimental type. “You gonna eat that all yourself?”

Daniel shrugged. “Unlikely.”

“Excellent.” Jake pulled up a chair to the table in their bland kitchen, gray on white on black. “You have yourself a dinner date.”

“I guess I do.” Not exactly his plan, but now that Jake was here, the idea of sitting alone miserably thinking about Kate felt like a direct route to unnecessary pain, pain he was tired of having to battle.

“I met this girl last night.”

“Yeah?” Daniel got up and grabbed a bag of pretzel twists from the counter, brought it back to the table. Jake had a genius for interacting with the opposite sex. Women found his puppy-dog dark eyes brimming with humor and short stocky body unthreatening. Before they knew it, he’d literally charmed the pants off of them. Few relationships lasted longer than a month or two, but Jake kept trying, claiming he’d eventually stumble over the great love his parents had. “How come you slept here last night, you strike out?”

“She’s not for me.” Jake tipped his beer bottle toward Daniel. “Your type. Brainy, petite, high-energy.”

Daniel’s grin faded abruptly. “You know I can’t—”

“Yes, I know.” He rolled his eyes and made his fingers “talk” like a sock puppet. “You promised Kate you wouldn’t date until your wedding date, which, after a year and a half of celibacy is still six months away.”

“Jake …” Daniel warned.

Jake put down his hand. “Cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Punishment.” Daniel chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. He and Kate had been looking toward their wedding day for so long, planning, dreaming, fantasizing. How could Daniel even think about another woman before that date had passed?

Okay, maybe he could think about other women. Once in a while. Like now, when Angela’s luminous face had come into his head again. “You don’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t she leave it to you to decide when you were ready to move on? Wouldn’t you know better than she would?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes, tamping down the instant flash of temper. “Lay off Kate.”

“Someone needs to say this shit, Daniel. She had you by the testicles while she was alive, now you’re moping around like you buried your balls with her.” He leaned forward, eyes earnest, dark hair falling forward, in spite of the gel he tried to keep it combed back with. “Dig ‘em up, dude! Start living again! Go out with a woman, or two, or three. You’re not being unfaithful, Kate is gone .”

“I know she’s gone.” Daniel spoke through his teeth. “I feel it every day.”

“Because you haven’t tried to get past it.”

Anger rose so fiercely Daniel had to white-knuckle his beer to keep from punching Jake in the mouth. “What the hell do you know about it?”

“Everything.”

His answer shocked some of Daniel’s anger out of him. “How?”

“My high school girlfriend. We dated three years. Aneurism. She was there—” he snapped his fingers “—then she wasn’t. But you know what? That was her life ending. Mine went on.”

“So you climbed on top of the next babe who came along and that fixed everything?”

“Yes, I did and no, it didn’t. But dating after her death didn’t mean I never loved her or that I didn’t miss her. I still do sometimes. But I sure as hell didn’t serve some bullshit two-year sentence crying over my dick in my own hand.”

“Shut the f—”

“I’m telling you, you bury yourself in that shit, your life might as well be over, too.”

“Stop.” Daniel stood abruptly, chair scraping over the hardwood floor.

“Okay.” Jake held up both hands. “Okay. Calm down.”

“Don’t ever say that crap about Kate again.”

“Okay. I was out of line. I was right , but I was out of line.”

Daniel stayed where he was, trying to get his breathing under control. Most of the time he believed strongly that people could think and say what they wanted, it was no skin off his ass. But Jake’s words had cut deep. “You want this steak or not?”

“Sure, man.” Jake nodded. “Sure. You need any help?”

“No.” He turned to the stove and started a pan heating. By the time the steak was ready to be turned, he’d calmed down some. After they’d finished it—Daniel had more appetite than he expected, and the steak was damn good—he was tired of Jake’s apologetically cheerful conversation, and just wanted to retreat to his room and reconnect with Kate over the cupcakes.