One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (7 page)

“I know why you want to leave,” he whispered
in her ear. “But know that I’m very proud of you.”

Marisa, sensing that her tear ducts would
unleash a torrent that would send streaks down her cheeks, nodded
because so much emotion clogged her throat that it prevented her
from muttering a single word. She clutched her father tightly then
rushed from his embrace and strode toward the door without looking
back. She neither walked too fast nor too slow, since either would
allow Jaclyn to discover the depth of Marisa’s disappointment.

After stepping through the doorway and
shutting the door behind her, Marisa realized she was unable to
hold off the storm of sorrow from overwhelming her. She let out a
gasp, and tears blurred her vision as she almost collapsed in
despondence. Never again would she expect the unexpected from her
mother. This didn’t amount to anything beyond the norm, but it did
mean finally giving up hope that Jaclyn would one day care about
her.

She sniffled, but refused to let moisture
spill from her eyes. That reaction would probably make her mother
smile. From now on, Marisa wouldn’t give her mother the
satisfaction of knowing that she provoked any feelings in her
daughter. She drew in a breath and released it with a somewhat
steady sigh. Since her mother had disappointed her countless times,
Marisa followed protocol: she took one step after another, hoping
that this time she wouldn’t let her expectations drag her into an
abyss of gloom.

Then she realized that by not caving in to
her inner turmoil, she had conformed to the same emotionless nature
with which her mother lived life. It seemed that no matter what she
did or how she acted, Marisa was doomed to become her mother.

CHAPTER FOUR

After entering
Apocalyptica,
an
upscale bar with outrageous liquor prices that catered to young and
successful clientele living just outside of Bedford Falls,
Alexander walked through the dusky atmosphere that smelled of a
combination of cinnamon and cloves. While the bar didn’t look like
it had suffered the effects of a catastrophic event, its name
attracted singles looking for something dramatic to shake up their
lives, even though the décor didn’t offer anything beyond that of
any other bar.

Gorgeous women in their late twenties and
early thirties wearing suit coats over trendy blouses or
fashionable dresses with belts to show off their curves formed
tightknit groups beside tall, cocktail tables. The choice to omit
chairs allowed the bar owner to add more tables throughout the
room, thereby allowing more people to enter the building. Men in
stylish business suits that cost more than Alexander earned in a
month made him look like he’d gone shopping at the Salvation
Army.

Despite being upstaged by the wealthier men
in attendance, he didn’t feel overpowered by their affluence. Not
after suffering the biggest loss in his life. Animosity grew in his
heart, and he decided he needed a few drinks to quell his
agitation. Spotting Damon Durand at the bar chatting with a cute
blond bartender, Alexander made his way over to them. “I’d like a
shot of Effen.”

Interrupted, Damon didn’t immediately turn
to Alexander. He held his stare on the attractive bartender, broke
into an easy grin that never failed to charm any woman he set his
sights on, and said to her, “Let’s make that three.”

“Three?”

“He’s going to need a couple, and I’ll need
one just to deal with him tonight.” As the bartender went off to
gather some shot glasses and a bottle of liquor, Damon pivoted
toward Alexander. “Congratulations on the promotion, buddy. The
extra dough is already turning you into a high-class drinker,
huh?”

“I want Effen because I’m effing
pissed.”

“Somehow I figured that.” Watching the
bartender return to pour their shots, Damon said, “But you
interrupted this lovely lady and me, and she deserves an
apology.”

Alexander, watching the woman staring at him
to see how he would respond, also realized that he’d ignored his
friend’s compliment. He felt like an ass for acting like one. “This
is the worst day of my life. It’s no excuse, but I apologize.”

Before the bartender could respond, Damon
said, “The worst day of his life, yet he got a promotion and netted
another fifteen grand per year.” He picked up a shot glass, and
after Alexander did the same, he clinked their glasses in a toast
before downing his drink.

Alexander followed suit, then finished off
the other one. “One more for each of us,” he said to the bartender.
To Damon, he said, “Sorry, but I’m just…” When the bartender poured
another shot for each of them, he swiped his drink away from the
counter so quickly that he spilled some liquor on the bar. He
swallowed the second just as quickly.

“Okay,” Damon said, after swigging his own
drink. “That’ll do for the drinking portion of our evening. It also
serves as a toast since I moved into the area.” A couple weeks ago,
he’d purchased a condo only a few miles from Alexander’s
townhome.

“So, Marisa – what did she say?” Damon
removed a black sports-coat and draped it over the bar stool. A
charcoal-gray polo hugged a muscularly defined frame, directing
attention to a slim waist, black slacks, and dark shoes. All told,
his attire couldn’t compare to the high-priced duds the wealthier
men in the bar wore, but regardless of his surroundings, women
always noticed him and found him more appealing and interesting
than anyone else.

Alexander met him in a geometry class during
their sophomore year at Southern Illinois University. At that time,
Damon was spending his semester mired in self-loathing after his
girlfriend, Katrina, split up with him. He wore grungy clothing
that he rarely washed, attended a class each day just to collect
points for showing up even though it was always with a major buzz,
and disturbed Alexander’s concentration by reminiscing about his
relationship while writing poetry to his ex, hoping that one day
she would take him back, and he could prove his undying devotion to
her.

Horrified yet captivated by how someone
could fall apart so drastically after suffering a breakup,
Alexander encouraged Damon to spill his guts; he wanted to
understand (and hopefully avoid a similar outcome in the future)
the mind of the brokenhearted. Since his university life picked up
right where his high school life had left off—without a single
date— he consoled himself with the knowledge that Harrison Ford and
Kevin Costner had also suffered the same poor luck before hitting
college. Regardless, Alexander was drawn to meeting someone else
who had endured such desolation. And while they took different
routes to get there, they still arrived at the destination alone
and longing for human connection.

At the end of his freshman year, Damon
transferred to Colorado College, while Alexander remained at SIU.
Although time and distance separated them, Damon refused to end a
relationship with someone who had shown so much compassion and
understanding, and he kept in touch with Alexander through email a
few times each month, which centered around their experiences with
the opposite sex: Damon highlighted his countless relationships and
dalliances, not to mention his newfound popularity as one of the
most successful romance novelists on the planet.

For his part, Alexander finally felt secure
in sharing his difficulties in relating to women. Considering that
he forged friendships from middle-school on through college with
people who more often than not used his insecurities against him to
increase their own social standing, Alexander found it difficult to
trust others with his feelings, which in turn explained why he had
so few friends. Damon, however, changed that. In fact, without this
relationship, Alexander never would have trusted Marisa with his
innermost thoughts.

“She didn’t want to lose her best friend. Or
a colleague at work.”

Damon, quirking an eyebrow in thought,
pushed aside thick black bangs that hung just below his eyebrows.
“Okay, go on.”

Alexander explained everything that
happened, inserting how he felt about certain aspects of the
situation, as well as including Kelsey’s theory that Marisa would
need distance from him because he’d changed their relationship.
“What do you think?”

Damon eyes grew wide. “It’s not good.” He
signaled the female bartender for a bottle of Miller Light.
Accepting it, he nodded at her, but acted as if they hadn’t just
shared a flirtatious conversation earlier. The woman, biting a lip
in confusion, kept her eyes on him for a long beat before another
customer down the bar gestured for her. “Jesus, where do I
start?”

Alexander ignored the rhetorical question
and realized that, based on his friend’s look of consternation,
he’d really messed up. He just didn’t know where.

“You shouldn’t have told her that you love
her.”

Alexander stomach dropped. He’d feared that
response. “Why?”

“If you’re attracted to a woman, you show
her immediately. You don’t wait a couple years. By waiting, you
basically told her that you weren’t into her, or in your case, you
didn’t think she’d want you. You knew this, so why did you even
bother?”

“I didn’t think she’d be into me.”

“Ah, so
she
didn’t put you in the
friend zone.
You
put yourself there.” His expression
cleared, looking like he’d just picked up some pertinent
information. “Right now, I want to get an idea for who she is. You
never really told me much about her, probably because you knew I’d
bust on you for not acting on your feelings when you first met her.
Which turned out to be fairly accurate. So go ahead: tell me about
her.”

Alexander needed a moment to describe her.
“You know how the gossip magazines always show beautiful actresses
on their worst days? Those stars wish they could be as beautiful as
Marisa – on their worst day. What else? She’s intelligent. Has a
good sense of humor. She’s strong-willed and won’t give up on
someone or something she believes in it. I love talking to her. We
can talk about anything: politics, sports, movies – you name it.
And she goes off on these weird tangents before coming back to her
main point. And her voice…it’s like music. I mean, every time I
hear it, I smile. I can’t help it. It just happens. Oh, here’s
something that makes no sense to me: she has low self-esteem, which
I just can’t understand. And I keep trying to make her see the
woman I see when I look at her. But she won’t believe me.”

Damon lowered his head, looking like all the
attitude in his persona had vanished.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was actually kind of touching – that
last part.” He stayed silent for a few more seconds. Then he
brought the bottle to his lips and gulped down some beer. And just
like that, his candor returned. “But there’s a reason she won’t
believe you. And if you handle the way she tests you well, she’ll
eventually come to believe you. But right now, tell me: why are you
attracted to her?”

Alexander sighed, reluctant. Although he’d
never been to a therapist, he imagined it felt something like this
conversation. But he trusted his friend, so he gave in. “She’s
exciting: always trying new things, whether it’s food or activities
or hobbies. I really wish I could be more like her, and sometimes
she brings it out in me. Like last weekend, she treated me to a few
shots and convinced me to go out dancing with her. Me. Dancing! Can
you believe it? It’s crazy, right?”

“Good,” Damon said in an understanding tone.
“Keep going.”

“And she’s really passionate – about
everything. Sometimes it’s exhausting, but when I’m with her, I
feel so alive. Colors look more vibrant. Sounds become clearer.
Food tastes better. Here’s the difference between being her best
friend compared to what I’d imagine being her boyfriend would be
like: you know how cookies or ice cream tastes great, but you’re
still hungry after eating it? That’s exactly how it feels with her.
I feel amazing when I’m with her, but afterwards, I’m hungry for
more.”

“She sounds great. But I’ve got to say, you
both seem pretty different.”

“But opposites attract, right? Besides, we
have the same sense of humor. We’re both intense. It’s so easy to
talk to her. I feel like I can be myself with her.”

“Except when she drags you out on the dance
floor.”

“Okay, but how many white guys like to
dance?”

“Good point. But I still get the feeling
that you sacrifice how you feel just to make her happy. We’ll come
back to that at another time. Right now, I want to know why you
told her that you loved her.”

“It’s how I feel. I wanted her to—”

“What? See you differently? Sorry, not going
to happen. Not after two years. Not before laying some serious
groundwork.” He took a swig from the bottle. “Why subject yourself
to—”

“Because she made me love her by—just being
herself. And now I can’t stop.” The hostility that had consumed him
since this afternoon came to the surface. “That’s where I am right
now. And you’re attacking me. I thought you were going to help me.
How about some compassion?”

Damon glanced down at his chest. “Phew,” he
said, sighing with relief. “Thought you were saying I was
developing some knockers.”

“What the hell, man?”

“It’s about goddamn time you got angry.”
Damon’s agitated expression relaxed. “See, I think you’ve forgotten
who you are. Your dad worked two jobs for much of his life, so your
mom disciplined you and most often taught you right from wrong.
Your first job is working at a library and you’ve worked in two
libraries all your life, outside of this new gig coming up. Since
you’ve stayed in that career, every boss you’ve had, with the
exception of your current supervisor, was a woman. It makes sense
why you’re attracted to female authority figures. I get it. But it
has seriously fucked with your mind.”