Bittersweet (20 page)

I tap my head with one finger. “There’s more ideas where that came from,” I say. “You’ve just got to let someone else make some choices once every now and then.”

It’s been a while since I’ve broached the subject with him of taking on more responsibility, but I decide now’s not the time to get into it. Soon though. Joe rolls his eyes, but smiles, and I start to stride off, chuckling at his expression.

“We’ll see,” he calls after me. “Night, sweetheart.”

I grab my purse and start to hurry down the street, which isn’t easy to do in flip-flops, but I’m really looking forward to getting home, closing the door, and maybe digging into a pint of ice cream as comfort for my totally mature but depressing decision to drop the idea of me and Greg ever getting together. My sandals are flapping so loudly, in fact, that at first I don’t quite hear my name being called—but then there it is again.

“Cathy!”

I slow down and turn to see Greg getting up off the grass underneath the black cherry tree where he’s been sitting, and dusting off his hands. He looks up for a second at the dwindling sunlight filtering through the leaves, and I can’t help looking up too. When he looks back at me and pushes his hands into his pockets, I have to begin a stiff internal word with my heart and stomach, which are definitely not complying with my resolution.

“Were you… Were you waiting for me?” I ask, unable to keep the apprehension and surprise out of my voice.

“Yeah, I was hoping you would pass by here. I just…” He blows out a long breath. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

I gawp at him instead of replying. People are still milling around the street, or heading toward Mulligan’s, and I sidestep under one of the other trees to get out of the way. Greg follows, closing the gap between us, and we stand looking at each other for a moment.

“Guess my stalker credentials are intact, huh?” Greg murmurs, a hesitant smile playing on his lips.

“I guess so,” I say. “Um … but thank you for helping out today. You really didn’t have to do all of that.”

He shrugs. “Well, I didn’t have any plans, and the smell of the grill just kind of called to me.” He allows for a small smile. “I was happy to help out if it meant getting closer to Bobby’s secret steak sauce.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty damn good,” I say, shuffling my feet.

Greg’s face grows more serious. “Besides, I owed you guys. It’s really been bothering me, the way things were when the cast came to the restaurant that night.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I have to ask myself how much I really want this thing, who I’m willing to hurt—and I guess I don’t like the answer.” He scratches at his chin and I try not to imagine his stubble grazing lightly against the inside of my thigh. “I was a jackass and I’m sorry.” He looks up through his lashes. “Forgive me?”

Yes yes yes yes.
“Greg…” I begin.

“And not just for that.”

Oh god, he’s not done.

“I haven’t really given us a chance. And I know it’s probably too late now, but I just wanted to tell you that … I think about you. A lot. I’m on set, and my thoughts drift to you when I’m supposed to be doing my lines. I’m trying to sleep, and I think of you lying next to me.” I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows, and his voice is quiet. “I told you, I’ve been hurt, so I’m scared of it happening again, and I still mean that. But I’m sorry that I keep pushing you away because of … my shit.”

I think my heart has actually stopped pumping altogether, and my stomach has left my body. I stare at him until he laughs a breathy, nervous laugh.

“Say something.”

Someone across the street calls my name and I snap out of my trance, waving half-heartedly, but then I notice some girls giggling and looking at Greg. “L-Listen, are you busy right now?” I ask. My brain hasn’t quite caught up with my mouth, but I’m saying the words anyway, and my brain is like
OK, just go with it, Cathy. You always overthink things anyway—

Greg’s brow does its crease thing and he shakes his head with a confused smile. “No. I was just going to head back to my apartment.”

I take a breath. “Well, do you want to go for a walk with me? There’s this spot, it’s a little further down the river from town, but if you follow the path it doesn’t take all that long. Um, it’s just a place I like, and I thought I might take a walk there. Burn off some of that … meat fat.”
Ugh. Meat fat? Stop talking now
.

He pauses, and I can see he’s fighting a smile. “OK.”

“OK,” I say back.

I turn kind of abruptly and start walking, feeling strangely nervous but happy, and Greg falls into step beside me. We’re quiet until we get onto the river path, and there are fewer people around here—a family with young kids heading home, an older couple strolling along, holding hands. I clutch my purse tighter as it hangs over my shoulder, in case my own hand was to get the idea of spontaneously reaching over for Greg’s. I don’t want to get ahead of myself. The sunlight hangs low and amber over the river, causing the surface to sparkle, and the sound of the water meandering past is calming. I glance over at him, with his hands in his pockets, and he looks back at me. Bathed in this warm light, it almost takes my breath away how beautiful he looks. His eyes linger on my face, and then he looks away, back toward the river.

“So… Weren’t your family expecting you home?” I ask tentatively.

He turns to me again. “Aren’t you going to say anything about—”

“You must miss them,” I interject quietly.

He sighs. “Well, they have my aunt staying, and my dad’s cousin Lenny, so there’s not really room there. And I …uh, I gave up my apartment when I came here, and I just figured it’s only a couple days anyway. The train to New York takes so long…” He tails off.

“Why not fly?” I ask. Now that I think about it, it was kind of weird that I met him outside the train station that first night. The station’s mainly used by people commuting to work in Richmond, not traveling from out of state.

“Oh, I don’t… If I can stay on the ground to travel, I do. Gives me time to think, and—”

“You’re scared!” I say, smiling at him. I don’t mean to tease, but the way he’s gone pale and wide-eyed at the very thought of flying is crazy adorable.

“I’m not
scared
, I just don’t like it,” he says, pursing his lips.

“All right, all right,” I say, still smiling. “But I’m guessing you’re going to have to get used to it if you’re going to be jetting off to LA for meetings and whatever.” My smile fades as I suddenly think of Bethany.

“That’s what Xanax is for,” he says wryly, and then sighs. “Flying just feels way more out of my control and I … I guess I don’t like that feeling.”

I swallow and look over at him. “You don’t like feeling out of control.” It’s a statement, not a question, and he looks at me warily.

“I think I may have told you that before.” He rubs his forehead, and I can tell he’s stressed out because I haven’t responded to what he said. That he
thinks about me
. My heart starts to race again, remembering. “Cathy, I’ve been back and forth with you, because I’ve been trying to
pull back
some control. It’s difficult. With you, I mean.” His voice is low and he stares out in front of us, down the river as it glides off into the distance. “I think I can do it—ignore the feeling—and then I get around you, and you’re just
so
…” He stops, and sighs again. “And then I overcompensate.”

We’ve stopped now, and the sun is a vivid-orange semicircle on the horizon. I can hear the crickets just beginning their nightly song, and Greg’s words echo around me. I turn and look up at him, but he speaks before I can. “Everything is so up in the air. Here, and back home.” He shakes his head. “Cathy, you, you’re like an anchor for me. But you have no idea how easily you could crush me.” His eyes are wide and full of turmoil as they search mine. I can’t look away, but I can’t speak, and he carries on. “God, every second I’m near you, I just want to … to hold you. It’s all I can do not to—” He stops himself suddenly and pushes his hands roughly through his hair and turns, pacing quickly ahead of me. I notice I’m not breathing only because he exhales loudly as he goes. I stare after him for a second, and then finally start to jog after him.

As he hears my footsteps, he stops, and I catch up to him.

“Will you please just
say
something?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. “Anything?”

I point to something just up ahead in the distance. “I want to show you something instead.” I look down at his hand, clenched in a fist at his side, then slowly unfurl his fingers and take his hand in mine. I turn and walk quickly, dragging him along with me. A minute or two later I stand at the foot of the dark wooden bridge that curves up and over the river at its midway point. I step on to it, unsteady in my flip-flops. Moss makes the wooden slant slippery, and I slide a little, until I feel a strong hand reach up and steady my arm for balance. Greg glances at me and I whisper, “Quick, or we’ll miss it.”

We make it to the center of the bridge just in time. I lean on the wooden railing, and face the dying embers of the sunset. I turn to Greg—he’s looking at me questioningly but I press one finger to my lips and then point out to the horizon just as the final pinprick of sun begins to disappear below its line. I close my eyes. “Make a wish,” I whisper. I do. When I open them again, he’s staring at me, his frown well and truly in place. I sigh, and lean over the bridge railing to look down at the water swirling below. It’s darker now the sun has disappeared. I guess it’s my turn to talk.

“I came here once when I thought I wanted to run away from it all. I never got further than this bridge though. Guess running’s not for me,” I murmur. I look over to see if Greg’s listening. His eyes are focused out now on the point where the sun disappeared. I take another breath, returning my gaze to the water below. “When my mother left, it broke my father’s heart. Literally, I think.” My voice is still barely above a whisper, but I want to say this to him. “He tried, for a long time, for me and Carl, but one day it was too much. He landed himself in hospital with a heart attack. It was like she… She broke him.” I have to stop, take a breath. “That was the first thing I learned about love, I guess. That if you weren’t careful, it could damage you for good.” He looks over at me. “So I understand, Greg. I really do. I mean, I don’t know
exactly
what it is you’ve gone through, but I’ve been hurt too. By my mom, by the last guy… The last guy I loved, too.” I stop and draw another shaky breath. “Between her leaving, and him dumping me, there was a time I almost convinced myself I wasn’t worth loving.” I say the last part quickly, and hold up my hand when I can see from the corner of my eye that Greg wants to interject. I turn to face him fully. “So believe me, I get it. But this feels… I… I’ve never…” I take a breath, start again. “I want you—”

I wasn’t even done but I can’t say anything more, because the moment those words leave my lips, Greg steps closer to me, lifts his hands, and gently runs his fingertips down my face. I blink, and his thumb brushes away the tear that I’d felt teetering on the brink. His lips follow close behind it, pressing against my cheek then moving all around my face, gently brushing against my skin, against my eyelids as they close, then finally press onto my mouth. I let out a whimper, grip onto his wrists as he holds my face in his hands, and he presses his lips more firmly to mine. I reach around him and pull his body closer to me, and rise onto my tiptoes to get closer to him. My lips part, and his tongue edges between them, the tip of it teasing mine. My back arches, pressing me forward into him, and his breathing quickens, his kiss deepens. His lips are hotter now, moving faster, his hands moving from my face, pressing into my back, urging me closer, like we could meld together. He pulls back for air, his tongue tickling my lower lip as he slips it from my mouth, his lips fluttering around mine until they’re gone. He presses his forehead to mine, his rapid breaths still brushing over my skin.

“That was my wish, by the way,” I whisper, and he smiles down at me, running his hands over my hair, then puts his arm around me.

“Cathy,” he whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve got to be honest…”

Shit. Now what?

“Now that it’s dark, this place is starting to give me the creeps.”

I look up at him and start to laugh. “The creeps? Wow, I suppose you’ve got to see those city lights or you get withdrawal, huh?” I squeeze closer into his side, and we head off the bridge and back toward town, with the sound of rustling leaves, rushing water, and chirping crickets accompanying us. “Between this and a fear of flying?” I shake my head, my mouth twisting ironically. “Lucky you’ve proved your macho status by beating up that thief, or—” I feel his body tense up at the mention of that, and decide I should probably let it go. We fall quiet, looking up at the stars beginning to gather again. As we get onto the path back into Dogwood, Greg turns to me.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” he asks.

I start to shake my head again, then narrow my eyes. “You mean you didn’t check the schedule?”

“Oh no, I checked,” he says quietly, but with an irresistible grin. “I know you’re not working. What I meant was, if you don’t have anything planned, I was wondering if I could take you somewhere?” He draws in a breath. “It’s a place I heard about a while ago, and I think you’d like it.”

I don’t know why but I find myself blushing—it’s been so long since anybody really asked me out. And the fact that it’s Greg doing the asking, after what happened this evening… I cover with sarcasm, because I can’t help myself. “You, the tourist who thinks a wild beast will leap out of the riverside undergrowth, you’re going to take
me
, the hometown Virginia girl somewhere?”

We’ve reached my apartment building, and I flush again as I get more déjà vu. Greg closes the gap between us and grins down at me wryly. “I’m pretty sure I could show you a thing or two you don’t know all about.”

“I bet you could,” I say hoarsely as his hands snake around my waist. He leans down, bypassing my mouth and going for my neck, running his tongue ever-so-lightly up it until he reaches the point right behind my ear. I can hear him breathing hard.