Page 15 of Divine Sense
She had her hair half pulled back behind her head and tied up with an oversized white satin bow that matched the outfit she was wearing—a plaid, tweed skirt hit just above her knees and the matching jacket she wore was buttoned top to bottom. The large gold buttons caught the morning light shining through the large glass windows of the café. She had on a pair ofcream, knee-high socks that sat under a pair of brown, lace-up leather boots. The look aired on the side of grownup school girl with a hint of old money and a dash of sophistication. A stark difference from the drunken socialite I’d plucked off the street this past weekend. I cleared my throat and attempted to suffocate the flame that had ignited in my core before approaching her.
“You should have let me buy that for you,” she nearly whined as we stopped just a few feet from one another.
“I can buy my own coffee, thanks.” I tried to keep my words with her polite yet safe.
“Next time it’s on me.”
“Who says there’s going to be a next time?” I countered quickly, knowing exactly what game I was playing. She took a step closer to me and pressed a finger to my chest.
“I’m a Sinclair, Mr. Vesey, and we always get what we want. Don’t you forget that.” She nodded her head at me once before flipping her hair and walking to the register. I watched and waited for her to order and felt a smug smirk grow across my face when the barista denied her card.
“Your drink has been paid for ma’am.” The barista looked at me and Magnolia followed their glance before glaring at me through narrowed eyes. Her head tilted to one side that clearly screamed,I can’t believe you did that.With her drink in hand, she walked back towards where I was waiting on her.
“You really don’t know how to let a girl say thank you, do you?”
“My mama always told me to pay when a girl was involved. I’m just trying to be polite.” I leaned my face a little closer to hers and could feel the air change between us. When she didn’t say anything, I turned and walked out the back door towards the patio that sat behind the coffee shop. We found a small, wrought iron table with two chairs that was open, and I pulled out herchair for her. She watched me as she lowered herself down and didn’t take her eyes off of me as I sat in the chair across from her. I took a sip of my coffee and looked at her over the edge of the paper cup.
“How have you been?” I asked, trying to keep the questions in the realm of totally safe and completely normal.
“I’ve been fine. Thank you again for helping me Friday night. I don’t know what I was thinking, getting that plastered.” She shook her head softly and took a sip from her own coffee cup. When she did, a piece of hair fell into her face. I gripped the edge of my chair to keep myself from reaching across the table and tucking it behind her ear for her.
“Do you normally do that?” I probed, squeezing the edge of my seat a little harder, trying to come off as completely unaffected by her perfume which was wafting its way into my nose as a breeze blew through the outdoor space. She scoffed out a laugh that was laced with disbelief.
“Ineverdo that. I don’t even really like to go out but my best friend, Margaret, begged me to go with her and after the week I’d had, I just wanted to have fun and forget everything.” She pursed her lips together and acted like she had just swallowed a vile of poison. Her eyes were fixed to the top of her coffee cup, lost in a thought.
“What were you trying to forget?” I asked, even though part of me knew the answer already. I hadn’t forgotten how she mentioned her asshole ex and how he ‘threw her away like last week’s leftovers.’ I’d never wanted to punch a stranger more than I did when I heard the tears streaming down her face on the other side of the phone.
“Where do I start?” She half laughed, even though I could see the pain in her eyes as she looked anywhere but back at me. As if avoiding my gaze would help her to avoid the pain I’d seen when I picked her up on the side of the street. “Maybe abouthow my boyfriend of five years cheated on me or how my mother is treating me like it’s my fault he was unfaithful. She acts like we’re going to get back together so she can finally get the dream wedding she’s been hoping for.” She laughed to lighten the air around us. “Or maybe to forget about how no matter how hard I try, I’m never good enough for the people around me. Since the day I was born, I was never what my parents wanted. Or Daniel, clearly, seeing as how he’s now sleeping with someone who wasn’t even born until we were in the first grade.” She threw her coffee back as if it was shot and finished it off.
I clasped my fingers together in my lap, leaning back in my chair, studying her as she continued to avert her eyes from mine. We sat in the uncomfortable silence for several long minutes as I waited for her to bring her eyes to me. I wanted her to look at me and know that I saw her. All of her. As she is right now. And that it didn’t scare me. She circled her eyes once more around the courtyard before finally settling them on me.
“I’m sorry for saying all of that. I asked you to meet me so I could say thank you for saving my ass, not to dump on you like you’re my therapist or something.” She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and sucked on the inside of her bottom lip.
“While I might not be your therapist,” I started, leaning on the wobbly table with both elbows, “I am glad you shared that with me.” She gave me a small, tight smile that I wanted to trace with my finger, encouraging it to grow even wider. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I know what it’s like to feel like you can never measure up for the people around you.”
She looked at me through softened eyes for a beat before her demeanor changed in a snap. She crossed her hands in front of her on the table and smirked at me. “Enough about me, tell me something about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, anything. Tell me what you do outside of work. You can’t be tied to the job all the time, can you? Or are you always picking up clients at one in the morning and taking their drunk asses home?”
I chuckled at her question. “When I’m not at work, I’m either home or spending time with my family. But more often than not I’m with my friends. I have three of them. I grew up with only sisters so these guys are kind of like the brothers I always wanted growing up.”
“That’s how my friend Margaret and I are. My mother couldn’t have any more children after me, so she became like my sister.”There it is, her real smile.I could tell by the way the muscles in her face relaxed that Margaret was important to her.
“Tell me about your friends,” she urged and I laughed even bigger because thinking about my friends always caused this kind of reaction. Bunch of fucking idiots.
“Oh god, where do I even start? Well, we’ve known each other forever. We met when we were all in the same class together in elementary school and have been inseparable since.” As I spoke, she leaned in and rested her elbows on the small bistro table we were sharing, propping her carefully sculpted chin in her hands, watching me speak. “There’s Malcolm, Conrad, and then Hank.”
“Malcolm, Conrad, and Hank. Those are good names. Strong names.” She pushed her lips out and nodded her head compendiously.
“They’re good guys. I see them weekly, sometimes even more than that. They keep me sane, well, actually they drive me crazy and make me worry but they’re my best friends, so I deal.”
She studied me for a moment across the table before pulling back and leaning her forearms on the edge of the table. With my arms still resting on top of it, our fingers grazed one another andI immediately leaned away from her, needing to put as much space between us as possible.
“Can I ask you something?” Her words came out quickly and I knew that even if I told her no, she would ask anyway. I flashed my palms at her, indicating to her to go ahead with the question.
“Why are you such a nice guy? I mean, I was such a bitch when we first met and then I pretended not to know you the second time we met. And when I call you up at one in the morning like my personal chauffeur, begging you to come and rescue me, you treat me to breakfast and fresh clothes the next morning. And now you sit here and tell me about your friends and listen to me give my sob story like it’s not a big deal. What gives?” She shrugged her shoulders and a look of disbelief danced across her porcelain face. I weighed the words I wanted to say inside my head before speaking.
