Strangers, Enemies, Friends & Lovers

By Chrystal D. White-Johnson

Because not all love stories have happily-ever-after starts...in fact, some have such...unpleasant beginnings, the endings seem ridiculously predictable. But the universe has its own plan and a sometimes ironic sense of humor, and things have a way of working out in the most unexpected, mysterious, and incredibly beautiful ways. In a world where hate is easy and seems to be so richly rewarded, may we always, always choose love. I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them <3

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781796094732

Chrystal D. White-Johnson

Chrystal D. White-Johnson is the single mother of 2 daughters, 16-year-old Kaitlyn and 9-year-old Kayleigh. She is a master's-level mental health professional who knew 2 thing early in her life -- that she wanted to be a "helping" professional (which initially meant following on the footsteps of her mom and maternal aunts to become a teacher) and that she wanted to write. An elective her junior year of high school completely changed the entire course of her carefully planned and laid-out career path, and the demands of life forced her to bind and gag her muse and focus on 'adulting'. An unexpected health crisis put her life pretty much on hold but provided the unexpected blessing of time. Time she used to heal and recover and, equally important to her, to write. Because to her, writing is life, and somewhere along the way she lost sight of that. There are more stories between these covers than between the covers of her previous two ("Pathways Of The Journey" and "Strangers, Enemies, Friends & Lovers"), and she sincerely hopes you will enjoy these and maybe check out her other two and any future efforts. Happy reading!

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Copyright © 2020 by Chrystal D. White-Johnson.

ISBN:                  Softcover                        978-1-7960-9474-9

                            eBook                              978-1-7960-9473-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/19/2020

Xlibris

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Contents

1     Strangers In A Restaurant

2     Class Reunion

3     Strangers In A Bed

4     Enough

5     Strangers In A Gym

6     Happily Ever After

7     Strangers In A Walmart

8     Perfect Timing

9     Strangers In A Hotel Room

10   Faith Fully Restored

11   Strangers In A Conference Room

12   Significant Cardiac Event

Strangers In A Restaurant

She found herself wishing for a black hole or even a time portal. Something, anything to save her from this b.s. train wreck of a date.

As long as she lived, in this life or any others, she would never, ever go on another blind oh-I-know-the-perfect-guy-for-you date ever ever, again.

She took a step back and detached herself emotionally to assess the situation intellectually. Her emotions failed. Every. Single. Time. Her intellect served and served diligently, faithfully, and well.

And, right now, her intellect was coming up with some wild stuff to free her from this situation.

Like faking a heart attack.

Yeah. It was just that bad.

He was cute enough. Some might even consider him gorgeous or even sexy. He was clean-shaven, well-built, impeccably groomed and attired. He had a pretty smile with perfect, straight, white teeth and deep dimples, the kind that winked when he was talking and reached full-on depth when he smiled. He had broad shoulders, long, graceful fingers that ended in manicured nails. His voice was not as deep as she liked her guys’ voices to be, but it was cultured. It also had just a hint of arrogance and condescension.

Which turned her absolutely, completely, forever, all the way off.

She could deal with many things, including flat-out ignorance (which she loathed). But she could not, would not tolerate arrogance or condescension. Putting them together was like pulling the pin on a grenade and throwing the pin while still holding the damn grenade.

She was a pretty good catch, a helluva catch really. She was OK-looking, gainfully employed, successful and respected in her field. She was fiercely independent and made the money to allow her to be. She had a nice apartment in a gated community in a really nice part of town. She was in her early thirties with no divorces on her record or children (and thus no babydaddy drama). She brought a lot to the table.

But she was damned if she would settle for a douchey creep who was more interested in getting her on the table rather than appreciating what she brought to it or bringing anything to it himself. She wanted a man, a partner, a friend, and, yes, a lover; not a child, a dependent, a responsibility, a fucker (in every sense of the word).

She shifted, in an effort to get more comfortable, and she felt something that made her eyes go wide and her heart stop.

Oh, God, no. Not her period! She had on a thong and no type of protection by way of so much as a panty liner. She didn’t even have anything in her purse because it wasn’t anywhere near time for it.

Could this night get any worse?

Yes. It turned out it could. Get worse. Much worse.

OK, she thought. I’m a licensed, trained, and experienced mental health professional. And, unfortunately, this isn’t the first time this has happened. OK. OK.

She looked up, saw their waitress, and signaled for her. She smiled and nodded before looking back at the patron she was currently serving.

Good, she thought, grabbing her purse, grateful she carried pens and paper with her everywhere she went.

Her date droned on, all but forgotten as she scribbled a hasty note.

Yes, ma’am, the girl, probably no more than twenty-two or twenty-three, said with a warm smile.

She handed the girl the note.

Will you look at that and see if the chef could whip that up real quick and put it on a separate tab?

The girl looked at the note.

OMG! Girl emergency!! Do you have any pads or tampons?!

This looks complicated, but our main chef’s a magician. This shouldn’t be any problem.

"OK. Thanks. I really appreciate it."

Absolutely no problem. Let me go turn this in, and I’ll be right back.

Thank you again.

No prob. Be right back.

And with that, she turned and rushed toward the kitchen.

I like a woman with a healthy appetite, her date said, drawing her attention back to him. But there are some…hungers that can’t be satisfied with food. Maybe…we should go somewhere else and…get dessert.

She’d heard about it before but had never literally experienced it herself. She did then.

She threw up a little in her mouth.

As…appealing as that sounds, she said, unable to keep the disgust she was feeling out of her voice, I’m afraid I’m going to have to…request a raincheck.

Are you OK? he asked, noticing for the first time that she looked ill.

"Honestly? No. My period just started – completely unexpectedly – and my stomach is starting to cramp like hell. Besides that, I have no feminine protection on me, and it’s getting grosser and messier by the second. I feel icky, and I really just want to go home, take something for the pain, shower, and curl up with my heating pad and wait for oblivion to overtake me."

She watched several things flash in his eyes as she spoke, most notably disgust and anger. No. Not anger. Rage.

Thank you, Lord, for saving me from this jerk and very probably becoming at least another rape victim. But please deliver me from…this newest situation.

Tell you what. I’ve got something of a drive ahead of me, and I don’t really like gas station bathrooms. So I’m gonna go…handle this real quick, and I’ll be right back.

OK, she said, wondering what was keeping the waitress and vowing to start carrying extra supplies – at least one tampon, maybe a pad, a bottle with at least two Advil or Motrin in it – at all times, regardless of the time of the month.

Paxton Moore had to step to the side to avoid being run over by the guy he’d seen with that really pretty woman earlier, yammering on his phone, his tone not matching the fire in his eyes.

…So yeah. My friend cancelled on me, turns out, at the last minute…I know right! Rude. We’ve been planning this for weeks…OK. That sounds really good…Yeah. See you in a few…Hold on.

He put his phone down to his side and turned, smiling winningly at the receptionist and his waitress.

Hey. I just got a call from the hospital, and one of my patients needs me, he said, his voice only moments before filled with anger and lust disguised as genuine interest, now dripping with concern and oh-well-this-is-the-life-I-chose-when-I-chose-to-become-a-doctor. My date has agreed to take care of the tab and finding herself a ride home. The food was excellent, the service lovely, as always. Have a good night.

OK, sir, you too. And…I hope your patient will be OK, the hostess said.

Me too, he said grimly. Me too.

And with that, he was gone.

"What a fucking asshole!" their waitress said, her anger in her eyes and voice.

Libby! You don’t cuss! the hostess said, shock on her face and in her voice. And he seemed—

Like a fucking jerk, the waitress said flatly. "He’s been eyeing her like a vulture circling road kill all fucking night. Her period comes, and he bails. This is why the fuck I’m single. This is exactly why. Guys are such assholes and fucktards, and it doesn’t even seem to be just guys our age anymore. It’s like…an epidemic or something."

Excuse me? Daniel said, stepping closer. Libby? I promise I wasn’t eaves dropping, but did I just hear you say that guy just left and stuck his date with the tab?

"Yes, sir, you did, and I’m just sick about it because I don’t think she brought her purse. She asked me to get her…girl stuff. So she probably doesn’t have any money on her either."

I’ll cover the bill, he said, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, and then pulling out a credit card and two twenties. Put it on this, and this is…for your excellent, courteous service and for getting her…girl stuff. You go run this, and I’m gonna run to my car to see if I’ve got a blanket or jacket in there to help her cover with.

And with that, he turned and made his way to the exit.

Libby, the hostess said, I just had my faith in the male species restored.

Omg, same, Libby said, looking down at the money and credit card. Same.

As he tore his trunk apart in search of something to cover her with, she began to grow impatient. How damn long did it take to pee?

And dammit, her pants were probably ruined. Didn’t much matter – she was probably gonna burn these pants anyway. Probably the whole damn outfit. No. Not the shoes. She loved the shoes.

Not even the most epically shitty date in all her dating life with the most ridiculous waste of testosterone and a penis she’d come across in a really long time could ruin these shoes for her.

She shifted, which increased the mess between her legs, and she dropped her head, tears of pain and frustration filling her eyes.

Lord, have mercy, she thought with a small sigh. Please just have mercy. And are there no men left? Not just people with penises and who pee standing up, but real men, the kind created in Your image?

She felt somebody standing near her and quickly opened her eyes and lifted her head. But instead of her HLN-news-story-waiting-to-happen date, she looked up and saw the guy she’d noticed earlier. He’d been alone, and she’d assumed he was gone. The waitress and busboy had already cleared and cleaned his table.

Hi, she said.

God, but he was pretty.

Hi, he said. OK. So I’m not sure if there is any good or easy way to say this, but your date left about five minutes ago.

He w-

"And I know you were riding with him. I know I’m a complete stranger, but I am asking anyway if I can drive you home. No strings. No…creepiness. Just…a guy with sisters who hopes and prays if anybody ever pulled a douchebag move on one of them like this one that somebody would step up and help her. There is no excuse for this. None. And I hope you will accept my offer in the spirit in which it’s being extended and not think I’m trying to make a move on you. There are some real men left, and I like to think I’m one of them. Please let me help."

It’s a messy situation. Literally.

I know, he said, holding up the only jacket he’d been able to find. Libby is still…looking for supplies, but in the meantime, you can use this and get to the bathroom. You can get cleaned up as best you can, and then I’ll get you home.

She closed her eyes, utterly humiliated but also strangely relieved and relaxed.

This is gonna be OK. You are gonna be OK, and you are completely safe. Do you have anything to take for the pain?

Tears welled and flooded her eyes, and she had to swallow hard not to let out the sob that came from seemingly no damn where. Unable to speak, she simply shook her head.

OK, he said, handing her his jacket. Put this on, and I’ll go see if Libby’s got any ibuprofen.

Lord, can this night get any worse? she muttered softly.

Yes, he said, drawing her gaze to his. It could, but I’m not gonna let it. You’re safe, and this is gonna be OK. I’ll be right back.

He walked away, and she dropped her head and sighed softly.

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Oh, wow, Gabs, her bff Eden Edwards said the next day as the two women made their way around the track at the high school as the football team ran drills and the cheerleaders pretended to be working on their routines/cheers nearby.

After the b.s. of the night before, she’d awakened wanting only two things – a sympathetic ear and a good run. Well, three things actually, but the third (seeing her knight in shining armor again) was probably about as likely as her date ever becoming a decent human being.

Sometimes God will send people into your life to fulfill a specific purpose and then remove them again, leaving you to figure it out. As much and as badly as she wanted him not to be, her chivalrous knight from the night before probably was nothing more than a life lesson, a reminder, an easy way out of a bad situation into which she had gotten herself. And if that was really the case, then she had completely missed the point.

Oh, she had more than gotten the message about ending up with less than what was intended for her when impatience made her go after it on her own, that there were some really creepy-bad people in the world as well as some really genuinely good people in the world, that she had dodged a serious, potentially fatal bullet.

Because there was absolutely no telling what that creepazoid might have pulled had she gotten back into his car.

He knew where she lived, but that didn’t really frighten her. She lived in a gated community, and there was an armed guard on duty 24/7, monitoring strategically placed cameras. Effort would have to be taken, planning, figuring. Guys like that were too lazy to put in the effort any of that would take.

Prayerfully, she would never have to see or deal with him again (and would be able to soon stop thinking about him).

She would forever be grateful to him, but she hoped she’d soon be able to stop thinking about the beautiful stranger who’d rescued her too.

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Payton Moore felt frustration coming off her twin in waves, but was trying to wait him out. This seemed to be deep and really bothering him, her first clue being him calling her in the first place.

Her twin tended to be…closed off wasn’t quite accurate but was the best she could come up with right then. He was…guarded. Not aloof or mean or standoffish but…detached, maybe. He was most open with his family and a very few close friends, but he could keep them at arm’s length as well.

He was the most open with the troubled kids and their families he worked with in his capacity as a counselor at the local mental health clinic. He was one of six full-time therapists there and, per his request, he got most of the deeply troubled male teens referred to the clinic.

He wasn’t arrogant, self-righteous, or an asshole, but he knew all of his colleagues really well. And he knew that none of the men he worked with and maybe one or two of the women, could appropriately handle those clients. Most were too busy chasing billable units to provide quality care. Some half-assed because they quite simply sucked at their jobs. Others didn’t provide the effective treatment they could be providing because they planned to milk every single available penny they could get their greedy little hands on. Actually helping their clients might result in relatively short periods of care. Half-assing dragged things out and equaled billing opportunities.

The whole thing frustrated, infuriated, and saddened him. So much of the current mental health crisis could be traced back to inadequate provision of care, which led to cynicism on the part of the average citizen about mental health professionals’ necessity and/or true effectiveness, which led to the people who needed it the most never considering it to be a viable option.

Pax, his sister said, drawing his attention from his brooding and back to her. Please, bubba, tell me what’s going on.

He sighed. She was the one person he could tell absolutely anything and not have to fear judgment, ridicule, or blabbing. She was open, brutally honest, and genuinely empathetic. And right then, he needed to unload.

So he did. She listened attentively, without interrupting, and when he finished he felt better just for the telling of it.

"First of all, this is one of those millions of reasons I love you and millions of little things you do that make me proud to call you my brother. Because doing what you did was your natural, gut, knee-jerk response. No thought, no oh-I-better-not-get-involved. Just selfless chivalry, being a decent human being, and stepping up and doing what your definition of and identity as a man dictates you to do."

"SEEEE. This is why I don’t tell you shit," he muttered.

Second, she continued, did you even get her name?

No, and she didn’t volunteer it. It was a random, I-just-happened-to-be-in-the-right-place-at-the-right-time type deal.

Then why does this have you all twisted up?

I don’t damn know, he said, his frustration in his voice, confusion in his eyes. "Pay, he was just gonna leave her there, bill unpaid, no transportation, cramping and bloody. Because he couldn’t get his rocks off with her? Because he had to punish her for being a woman? Maybe thinking she somehow did him wrong? Nobody deserves to be done that way, Sissy. Nobody. But she seemed…so sweet. And her voice suggested culture and sophistication, her speech pattern, education. But even if she’d been Boomqueesha from the hood, she wouldn’t have deserved what that asshole did to her."

So is this your natural protective nature or…something else?

"Something else makes absolutely no sense."

Feelings don’t have to make sense or be logical, and you never know what will touch your heart, speak to your soul. It’s OK to want – physically and emotionally. And it’s also OK to feel connected on a spiritual plane, even to a virtual stranger. Couples celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversaries were once strangers.

Pay, he said helplessly.

Pax, she said gently. God may simply have placed you there because He saw one of His children in trouble. He may have placed you there as a test. Your paths could’ve crossed as a catalyst for something He wants to show one or both of you or give you. In order to get together, you first have to meet.

Pay, I don’t even know her or anything about her other than she probably won’t be going on anymore dates any time soon.

Prince Charming didn’t know Cinderella’s name either. All he had was her shoe.

I doubt she’s gonna take my jacket around the kingdom and have guys try it on until she finds somebody it fits.

I seriously doubt she’s gonna do that either, she said drily. Come on. I think better on a full stomach, and we need to hash this out some more.

Pay—

Pax, you aren’t going to be able to settle or let this go until it gets resolved. I’m your twin, and I can feel your negative energy. If you aren’t settled, I’m not settled.

Selfish bitch, he said without heat and making her laugh.

Indeed. Your restlessness will make me restless, which will upset my Zen, which will disrupt my sleep, which will give me bags and wrinkles and make me irritable, which will make me unattractive to the opposite sex, which will greatly inhibit my ability to find a mate and procreate, which will leave me horny and lonely and will disappoint Mom and Dad, which will hurt me deeply, which will make me restless, and it just starts an infinite loop. Don’t stick me in an infinite loop, Pax. Help me.

That’s what got me in trouble in the first damn place, he muttered, unable to stop his smile.

Let’s hit IHOP.

You know I have a weakness for pancakes.

Tis a weakness we share, she said, standing. Let me throw on some pants and shoes, and then we can go.

He shook his head and chuckled when she started singing I want pancakes to the tune of I Want Candy.

54542.png

It had been a month since a beautiful stranger had rescued her, and she wondered, not for the first time, why she hadn’t at least asked his name.

At least then maybe she’d have a name to go with the fantasy, a name to groan, scream, or whisper in her suddenly very…interesting dreams.

Sometimes an active and vivid imagination was more curse than blessing.

She stuck her earbuds in, checked her laces, and pressed play on her iPod as she stepped onto the track. It was a nice, cool evening, the result of a cool front ushered in by a storm the day before. She loved nights like this and would probably spend some time on her patio tonight. Or maybe the porch swing.

But first she had to get through her run.

54540.png

He was relieved to find the parking lot empty, save one vehicle. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with people, hence why he was here this late to stir up his endorphins, maybe get some positive vibes going on inside.

Because right then, there was nothing positive about him – his vibes, his mood, his thoughts, his feelings.

He and his sister had had so much fun at lunch (and he’d felt so good and relaxed just being with her), they’d ended up making a day of it. After lunch, they’d gone grocery shopping. They’d then helped each other unload and put everything away. Then they’d gone to their parents’ house and hung out with them, eventually talking them into going out for food. They’d ended up at Applebee’s, getting incredibly full and having a blast.

He’d felt almost like himself when he’d made it home and had gotten the most restful, peaceful sleep he’d gotten in way too long to remember. And he’d awakened with the desire to go for a run, a desire he hadn’t felt much lately because he hadn’t had the time.

OK, Lord, he thought as he got out and stretched. If anything is going to come of this or even if it was just You putting me in place to help someone in need, please give me a sign. An obvious sign please.

Limbered up and at peace, he walked onto the track. Only one other runner. He liked those odds.

He put his earbuds in, found his workout playlist, cranked up the volume, and took off.

She noticed the newcomer – a nicely built, seemingly athletic guy. He was too far away to make out any of his features, but she got an I’m-here-to-run-not-bother-or-even-talk-to-you vibe, and she was perfectly cool with that.

She was almost done anyway. One more lap would make three miles, and then she could go home, shower, and contemplate dinner.

Satisfied with her plan, she forgot about him and focused on doing what she’d come to do.

He let his mind wander to the things he needed to get done when he finished the thing he was currently doing, peripherally aware of the other runner and impressed by her form but not actively focusing on her.

She completed the lap, went to the spot beside the bleachers where she’d left her water, and sat gratefully on the cool, hard asphalt. She’d rehydrate, cool off and down a little, and then go get on whatever else needed doing.

She had completely forgotten about her companion until he was right in front of her, and when she looked up and saw his face, she damn near choked.

Oh my God, she said out loud.

He had his earbuds in and his music was on, but he always ran with the volume at a decent level because, well, you just never knew. She, on the other hand, tended to blast hers to block out everything and everybody but the task at hand, so she didn’t realize how loudly she’d spoken.

Until he turned, looked at her, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh, thank you, Jesus! they both thought before smiling at each other. I am SO taking this as the sign I asked for.

He walked over to where she was as she stood so they could be closer to eye level. Closer because her head only came up to his shoulders.

Hi, they said in unison.

Hi, again in unison.

They grinned at each other.

Can I be completely honest and perfectly blunt? he asked.

By all means, she replied, curious as to what he could possibly be about to say.

God, it’s so good to see you, he said, and was rewarded with the brightest, most beautiful smile.

Can I be completely honest and perfectly blunt with you now?

Absolutely, he answered, his curiosity piqued, but bracing for rejection.

"It’s an answered prayer to see you again."

Something deep inside him shifted, and everything clicked into place. His smile warmed her like a cup of hot chocolate on a winter day, and her pulse began to hum.

Same, he said, and her grin flashed. "I would absolutely love to spend more time with you and get to know you better."

Same, she said, and it was his turn to grin.

God, but he was beautiful.

He looked down at his watch.

"OK. IHOP is probably the only place still open this late that we can actually go into, sit down, and eat and, at this hour, it shouldn’t be too crowded. But…well, neither of us appears to have done too much sweating."

I’m a girl, so naturally I want to shine myself up like a new penny, she said, and she smiled when he chuckled. "But you’ve already seen me at one of my absolute worst possible moments, and if you can still want to go out with me after that, a little sweat and damp hair won’t worsen the impression."

He threw his head back and laughed, completely delighted with her, his heart full to bursting with joy at having found her.

"I like real, he said, still smiling. I can’t date a Snapchat filter or hold a photo-shopped pic. It is how we carry ourselves when we’re at our lowest or worst that, more often than not, shows us at our best."

Oh, my, how I love the way you put words together to make sentences and express your thoughts and feelings.

Thank you, he said, blushing.

No. Thank you. I do have a question though.

OK. I may or may not have the answer.

Oh, swoon! she said, and he laughed. "Oh my God! Be honest with me. Don’t pretend like you have all the answers or have solved all of life’s great mysteries. That is sexy to me. Honesty, integrity, intelligence…that is what is sexy and provides substance."

Agreed. Looks fade, and makeup runs or needs to be reapplied. Waist lines expand, and breasts and asses succumb to gravity. Hair gets messed up, greys, falls out. But honestly, integrity, and intelligence remain and endure.

We must go where we can sit, and you can say more words to me, she said, and he threw his head back and laughed, a gesture she was quickly learning to appreciate and want to elicit.

Sounds like a plan. Shall we?

Let’s.

So they made their way to the parking lot, talking about nothing in particular, just wanting to hear the other’s voice.

So, he said, feeling inexplicably sad that thy were about to part company again, knowing they would come back together soon, shall I follow you or—

No, she said, sitting and pulling her legs in. No. I believe I’ll follow your lead.

He couldn’t say why those words filled him with such pride and pleasure. Maybe it wasn’t the words so much as the meaning behind them.

I’ll lead this time, and sometimes you’ll lead. But most times, I’d prefer it if we walked side-by-side.

Her pulse kicked from resting to gallop, and her heart melted.

"I really, really like the sound of that," she said, her smile brilliant, her eyes bright with it.

Good. See you in a few, he said, leaning down and kissing her cheek before stepping back and shutting her door.

54538.png

Time passed, as time does, and they grew closer, their lives and routines shifting to include the other.

There had been no physicality beyond kissing and a little heavy petting. He wanted to make sure she knew and fully understood that their relationship and his feelings for her, as well as his intentions, were pure and driven by far more than lust and physical gratification.

Initially a bit wary because, hey! At some point, every guy makes a move in that direction, she’d been guarded and careful how she dressed, neither wanting to provoke nor send the wrong message. As time went on, they got to know one another better, and she began to trust him (as well as herself and her, at times, overwhelming feelings for him). She liked that he was a pressure-free zone and that he was so open and honest.

And affectionate. Affectionate for the purpose of being affectionate, rather than affectionate for the purpose of getting her naked.

Which he had yet to try.

She frowned a little. That should probably be a relief, was something of a relief. But it was also…puzzling and maybe just a little unsettling.

She knew he wanted her. Even if his mouth had said otherwise (which it never had, had never come close), his body was an entirely different story. And the story it told was exciting and full of promise and adventure. He could kiss her, touch her even, for hours in various stages of dress and undress and never once try to go there.

Part of her – hell, most of her – rejoiced about that. But another part of her wondered about it, and with her wonder often morphed into worry.

He constantly told her that he felt like he could talk to her about absolutely anything and that he hoped he inspired the same level of comfort and trust in her. And he did.

About everything but that.

Because, in a roundabout way, that – or her inability/unwillingness to do that – was what had brought them together in the first place.

Was he really the sweet, patient, loving man she’d come to know and depend on like oxygen, or was he that because he had other ways/women to take the edge off?

And OK, she had just entered the land of not-even-damn-fixin’-to-go-there.

She knew, trusted, hell loved this man, and she knew who and what he was and who and what he wasn’t. He wasn’t a ‘side-piece’ kinda guy any more than he was a man-whore, collecting-notches-on-his-bedpost fuckboy. He was a man – the kind God had intended when he’d invited Jesus and the Holy Spirit to make man in their image.

Wait. In their image.

Well, that was it. The answer. The why. He was honoring the commandment to wait and their relationship, what he hoped to build and have with her.

Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly love him any more than she already did…

Thank you, Jesus, she thought and, mind, heart, and soul clear and free from worry, she got back to work.

54536.png

He had had a similar internal debate about her and had reached the same conclusion.

And he had made a decision.

Not because of what the internal debate had been about but rather the place it had taken him to.

He stood, pocketed his keys, picked up his phone, and pulled up his contacts as he walked.

Kandace, he said as he approached the secretary/receptionist’s desk, I’m going out for lunch today because I need to run an errand. My next appointment isn’t until two anyway, but if you need me I’ve got my phone.

OK, Pax. Be careful and have fun.

Will do, he said, grinning and heading for the front door.

He may very well grab lunch, probably would, in fact, but food was secondary to his main purpose.

He got in his car, started it up, and put on his seat belt, backed out, and headed toward down town.

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Gabby was tired and very much looking forward to going home, lighting a candle, filling the tub with lightly-scented bubbles and hot water, turning on her Ed Sheeran station on Spotify, and chillaxin’.

She tossed her purse and backpack into her passenger seat as she flopped down behind the wheel. She started the car as she shut her door before putting on her seat belt and plugging her phone into its charger. She then sync’d it with her in-dash, pulled up her Ed Sheeran playlist, and backed out of her space.

She was halfway through Thinking Out Loud when the music stopped and her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, grinned like a loon, and pressed the accept button on her steering wheel.

Hey, baby, she said by way of greeting, and he felt every single muscle in his body relax.

Hey, baby, he echoed, and she had a similar reaction. So listen. I know it’s Thursday, but I was wondering if you’d like to leave the cooking to someone else tonight?

She made a sound deep in her throat that had him shifting in his seat to loosen his pants before saying, That sounds really nice.

"No, ma’am. That sounds really nice."

She chuckled, and he grinned and shifted again.

We haven’t gotten dressed up in a while.

No, we haven’t, she said, mentally assessing her closet and switching lanes to get off on the mall exit. She was long overdue for new clothes anyway. Shall we do so tonight?

Let’s, he said, mentally assessing his own.

The thing about being a guy was he could literally wear the exact same suit or pants every time he went out, and, if he changed the shirt and tie, nobody would ever know. He was feeling kind of royal blue today and again mentally searched his closet.

I’m gonna get off here and make the reservation. I’ll call you right back.

OK, babe, she said, parking but not killing the motor. I love you, and I’ll talk to you in a bit.

I love you too. And OK.

They both ended the call. She killed her motor, got out, and went inside the Sears entrance. He pulled up the Olive Garden in his contacts and placed another call.

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Great minds truly do think alike, if their outfits were any indication. He’d chosen simple black slacks, a royal blue shirt, and matching tie and socks. He had on a pair of shiny black shoes and looked classically handsome.

She’d found the perfect LBD done in simple and classic lines and dressed it up, purely coincidentally, with royal blue accessories, including a cute pair of sparkly royal blue shoes she had found on sale. Knowing she wouldn’t have time to deal with her nails herself, she’d gotten a mani/pedi and selected royal blue polish, specifically to go with her outfit, but also because she liked the way the color looked on her nails.

The hostess and waitress looked up to greet them, and all three women’s eyes lit up.

"Omg! It’s so good to see you two again," Libby said with a grin.

And you two as well. I sure hope we’ll be in your section.

My only table left is—

Theirs, the hostess interrupted with a grin, and y’all are right on time. Enjoy your meal.

She handed Libby two menus, and the girl led them to their table – on the exact opposite side of the restaurant from where they’d been that fateful night.

Other diners looked up and smiled (and they smiled back) as they walked past.

Libby led them to a table near the windows that overlooked the nearby river, and he pulled out the chair that would afford her the best view and allow her to have her back to the room. Crowds and strangers made her nervous. Even with it being a week night, both were present.

He sat down across from her, and they smiled at each other.

I see what you did there, she said, her eyes soft. And I adore you for it.

"I adore you as well,’ he said, taking her hand and lacing their fingers.

Aww, and I adore you both. You two are beyond cute together, Libby said, her eyes bright, her grin wide.

Because we’re perfect for each other, he said, and both women’s eyes went liquid.

That’s it, Libby said, handing them their menus. "I’m gonna be ‘forever alone’ because you just set the bar way too high."

"You hold out until you find somebody who not only reaches your bar but who also