Love Confessed Page 2

  “Shit! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” I mumble as I bend to pick up the papers. When I looked up, it’s Steve looking down at me. I nearly fall backwards in shock and embarrassment. His green eyes sear into mine, like he’s not just looking at me but looking through me. Like he can see every second of the amazing dream I had about him that has put my whole day in a funk.

  “Don’t apologize. I should have been paying better attention.” He says with a flirty smile. I can feel my face flush and I look away immediately so he doesn’t notice. He makes me so nervous! God, Steve is amazing. That look in his eyes as our eyes meet tells me that he knows exactly what he would do to a woman. I can only hope he can’t see what I want him to do to me.

  * * *

  “Mom! Mom! Where’s my Iron Man?!” Ethan screams as he comes barging into my room, shaking me awake the next morning.

  Mom is the best and the worst word ever. Usually the best, but I have to admit, I’m not particularly fond of any word I hear before my alarm clock goes off. I begrudgingly roll myself out of bed, fifteen minutes before said alarm is set to go off, to search for the infamous action figure that is apparently a matter of life or death for Ethan this morning. Oh, the traumatic life of a six year old. Sometimes I’m envious of how simple his life is, and I fight my hardest to keep it this simple for as long as I can.

  My search for Iron Man is half hearted because I can’t seem to get yesterday’s run in with Steve out of my head. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since then. It wasn’t a graceful, attractive, “Oh, Hi Steve, How are you today” run in. Not a run-in with a seductive flip of my hair and bat of my eyelashes. That kind of run in, the kind I wish it had been, is the kind that I had envisioned having since the first time I met him. Unfortunately for me, it was a “run-in” in the most literal sense of the term. Usually I’m acutely aware of his presence in the office. I can’t count the times I’ve found some stupid reason to walk by him, to be in the same room, in the hopes of finally working up the courage to talk to him even though I always ended up chickening out. That day, I’d been much too busy preparing for an important case coming up to notice he was there. I was too busy that even if I had known he was there, I still wouldn’t have been able to see him.

  Still, not even knowing he was in the office, I instantly knew who the toned, attractive, masculine smelling chest belonged to. The chest I ran full forced into. I would rather it had belonged to anybody else; literally any other person that had ever entered the office. But as my luck would have it, it belonged to the chest of the man I’d had a crush on since the day I met him.

  Steve isn’t my client, but I see him regularly. He is a client and friend of my bosses, and as such we run into each other rather frequently. I’ll see him in the halls, at company events, the occasional cocktail party at Scott’s house, the divorce party following his second marriage, and the subsequent third wedding. There has always been something about him that I’m just drawn to. He’s tall, if I had to guess I would put him around six foot two. He’s muscular but not in a gross way, it’s just enough that you can see the bulge of his bicep through his suit jacket. His brown hair is short on the sides and a little longer on top. It always looks like he just ran his fingers through it. It’s never combed to perfection, and the tousled look always makes me want to tug on it even more. Every time I see him he has a five o’ clock shadow, but honestly he probably shaves every morning. He is just that manly. The kind of man that knows how to take care of himself, but in a way that never leaves you questioning his sexuality. My best friend and college roommate, Hannah, affectionately refers to him as my polished lumbersexual based on my very vivid descriptions of his masculine ruggedly dominant sex appeal.

  He carries a certain authority to him. When he walks into a room, you know that he is the boss. He is always polite, good natured, usually smiling, but there is something powerful and possessive about the look in those eyes. There’s a magnetism created by his confidence and the pull it has on me is terrifying. This is why I’ve always tried to get close but ended up deciding to keep my distance instead – for both my safety and sanity. I’ve never been entirely sure that I can trust myself around him. All he has to do is look at me, and he’ll be able to see the sexual turn my thoughts always take the second I catch sight of him.

  Because of my dream, all of my thoughts lately have been about Steve and our encounter in the hall. The direction of my thoughts, my constant daydreams, has me completely horrified. He isn’t exactly somebody that I am in a position to ignore even though I now desperately wish that I could. Unfortunately, not only is he impossible to avoid in the “Oh I may see him someday” future, I will also have to see him in the much too immediate future. I mean, he is throwing our firm’s anniversary party this Friday for fuck’s sake! I am absolutely dreading being in the same room as him on Friday, just knowing that there is a chance he could know what I thought when I our eyes met. Well, less like a chance and more like the probability that it is true. That look he locked me in made me fairly certain I’ll never be able to look at him again without turning a god awful shade of red.

  The lack of interest he’s shown in me, ever, only serves to make me even more certain that the attraction has been one sided. This in turn succeeds greatly in making me all the more embarrassed about our unfortunate encounter in the hall.

  I turn around to see Ethan eating his cereal and staring at me confused. How long have I been zoned out thinking about this? Ugh, I need to pull myself together. I walk over to the counter by the sink and pour myself the first cup of coffee of my day. I can tell it’s going to be one of those days when my coffee cup is never empty.

  “Ethan, honey, did you find Iron Man?” I ask my son, trying to sound as concerned as

  I possibly can about the fateful disappearance of his favorite action figure.

  “No mom and I really wanted to take him for show and tell today,” he’s practically in

  tears so I know this really is life or death in his six year old world.

  “Well c’mon, I’ll help you search your room before school.”

  After ten minutes of sifting through all of his treasures (aka junk) we are finally able to find Iron Man and my son seems to be instantly at peace. On the way to school he tells me what he’s going to tell his classmates and his enthusiasm makes me smile. The conversation actually makes me happy enough to forget about stupid Steve for a minute and the reprieve is appreciated.

  My day passes with an unusual amount of inactivity, which is unfortunate because it has left me with an abundance of time to think. Time to think about the one man that I’m trying so hard not to think about. My run-in with him coupled with my recent dream has me feeling like I’m losing my mind. The image of his eyes are burned into my psyche and all I can picture is his strong hands all over me. His soft but confident mouth kissing me on my lips, my neck, and down my chest. Ugh, Leah! Get your shit together.

  * * *

  Wednesday is pretty uneventful. Being a lawyer has opened a world up to me that has turned things that I used to view as dramatic into normal, ordinary parts of my lifestyle. Thursday, however, is a nightmare from the moment I enter the doors of Sanders and Smith. One of my clients has been arrested for trying to break a custody order, and I’m in no mood for the strange interest Scott is showing in who I am bringing as a date to our anniversary party on Friday. His incessant pestering has reignited the thoughts I’ve worked so hard all week to erase from my brain. Also, I still need to do the dress shopping I keep finding reasons to put off, but I have court this afternoon so it will have to wait until after work.

  As I exit the courthouse I am secretly grateful that the ex-wife of my client did not show. He has been taking care of their daughter while his wife deals with her addiction to pain pills. I feel for him but attempting to kidnap his daughter is still illegal. Because she didn’t show, no charges were pressed against my client and he was released from custody today. Definitely a good day at wo
rk. It’s three o’clock and I have just enough time to actually pick Ethan from school. I say goodbye to my client and hurriedly make my way down the street towards the parking lot by the courthouse. At exactly the same moment I step off of the curb, look across the street and see Steve – I’m halted dead in my tracks at the sight. He’s in dark washed jeans and a fitted white t-shirt and… he looks incredible. He’s not even flexing and I can still see the bulge of his bicep. It’s so sexy and arms just happen to be my favorite feature in a man. I’ve never seen him so relaxed before and I’m sure this is going to fuel a whole new series of fantasies. He looks so much gruffer, so much stronger, and so much more able to throw me up against a wall and fuck me than he does in his sexy suits.

  Once again, I find myself in a daze and I’m not sure how long I have been standing here staring but I realize that it’s long enough that I’ve caught his attention. I see him turn and look my way, just standing and staring back at me. Damn it! I really need to stop daydreaming about him so much or at least be a little bit sneakier about it. I’m starting to lose parts of my days because of this little habit I have developed, because I can’t seem to keep myself from breaking into sudden and all consuming daydreams about this man I don’t even know. Embarrassed that he sees me staring at him I immediately drop my eyes and walk around to my driver side door. As I drive away I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I have been holding.

  After picking up Ethan, I bribe him with ice cream to go to the store and help me pick out a dress for Friday.

  “What do you think?” I ask Ethan, who looks positively bored out of his mind.

  “You look pretty mom.” he says slumped in the chair of the dressing room, swinging

  his legs back and forth after barely looking up long enough to register that I’m standing right in front of him.

  “You’ve said that about the last four dresses.” I say, becoming discouraged.

  “That’s because I think you always look pretty mom.”

  “Well thank you babe. Which one is your favorite though?”

  “Ummm, I think I like the blue one. Can I play your phone now mom? Please?”

  After several beats of careful debating with myself while staring in the mirror, it’s decided.

  “Ok, blue one it is. Yes you may play my phone.”

  We leave Nordstrom and I take Ethan to a special dinner at his favorite restaurant. Followed, of course, by the promised ice cream because I couldn’t be the mom who made her son watch her try on dresses for an hour and forget the ice cream sundae. My date with my son is exactly what I need today. Well, most days actually. It puts me in a whole new head space. It puts me at ease. I’m so in love with him, so proud of the little man that he’s becoming, that there’s honestly nobody I’d rather spend my evening with. I get fully regaled with his day at school, his excitement coming up over the summer soccer session, and am reminded at the very last minute of his volcano project due tomorrow morning. Crap!!! I can’t believe I forgot. I’m usually more organized. I blame Steve and his sexiness for distracting me.

  Ethan is a trooper and stays up to help until he finally has to shower. By 9:30 he falls asleep and I’m left putting the finishing touches on our jello filled volcano until I’m finally done at 11:30. I honestly don’t remember first grade being nearly so detailed when I went and I turned out just fine. Sheesh. I’m pretty sure I made this project in fifth grade. What a wonderful night though. All of my time and thoughts are consumed by this lovely life I share with my son. No derailed fantasy. No being diverted with thoughts of green eyes or dustings of chest hair peeking out of tight v-neck t-shirts. When I’m finally crawling into my oversized bed that is covered in my insanely expensive cotton sheets (my gift to myself after my last promotion) I fall asleep instantly. I sleep like a baby, barely hearing my alarm when it starts going off and I hit the snooze. When I hear it go off for the second time, I shoot awake with sheer panic.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. There is no way to skip work today, not with the hearing I have to be ready for next week. There is absolutely no way to get out of the party. Not only would Scott kill me but it’s also an important chance to socialize with many of our important clients and other charitable members of our community. Many of our colleagues and benefactors who work alongside and support our firm in its benevolence will also be in attendance. I am thankful that Scott has chosen to allow this to be a huge part of our practice. So I must suffer through my day, and try my very hardest to get through tonight without going crazy…

  2 Steve

  I pull up to Sanders & Smith Law Firm and I’m ten minutes early for my meeting with Scott Sanders, one of the founding partners. I know being early isn’t necessary, especially in the entertainment industry where schedules are generally lax and inconvenient for most parties involved. But I love my job, and I still take it very seriously. Growing up on a farm in small town Illinois, my father taught me the value of hard work and my mother taught me the value of respect. Promptness was part of both virtues and is something that is ingrained in my very core. As my Grandpa always said, “If you’re not early, you’re late.”

  I’ve also worked much too hard to establish this business and make it successful to feel justified in taking any part of it for granted. So I’d much rather be ten minutes early than show up five minutes late. Especially for a meeting like this, that’s both a follow up for a high grossing event coming up as well as a chance to bull shit with one of my buddies.

  Scott Sanders has been my lawyer for the past decade. Over the years he’s also become a very reliable drinking buddy. He was also one of my first big clients. His much younger second wife, Jennifer, is the younger sister of a buddy of mine from college and the connection proved to be a useful foundation for my now flourishing entertainment and production business. Shortly after I met him at his and Jennifer’s wedding, one of the celebrity functions my company was hosting had a breach of security where an intruder posed as a member of my staff. He then proceeded to take and attempt to sell the photos of the private function and I had the shit sued out of me. It was my first lawsuit, and Scott was the only lawyer I knew. He was happy to help. We met the same afternoon that I called to talk to him, and we discussed the lawsuit and his retainer at a local Irish pub near his firm. As the business conversation took place over a frosty glass of Guinness, Scott’s handsomely large retainer was slightly reduced and a new relationship mixed moderately between business and beer was developed.

  We’ve exploited each other’s businesses here and there over the years, and now his firm is celebrating its 25th anniversary. The page six ordeal is one that my company is fortunate enough to be producing. While I am certainly not lacking any business, events like this are still always helpful marketing campaigns as well a chance to hang out with friends and colleagues. I’m sure that they’d also be a great place to meet an attractive woman but who has the time for a relationship? I’ve dated casually over the past six years but have yet to be able to invest myself in a committed relationship. Not since my late wife have I felt a real connection with a woman or honestly, even had the desire to find one.

  I’ve been okay with the occasional one night stand, and even for the select few who have made it longer than that - but I haven’t had it in me to attempt any sort of serious relationship. Casual dating isn’t much easier for me though, at least after those first few dates. I grew up in a big family, with a house full of brothers who were a giant pain in the ass but who I would do anything for. We may fight with each other, but we’ll also protect each other fiercely as well. Coming from a close knit family like mine, disposable relationships are far from easy. It’s hard for me to be involved without being, well, myself. I’m protective. I’m possessive. I like to take care of people. Being a dad has only strengthened these traits, which I think makes me a better father but unfortunately a much worse casual dater.

  Because of these traits I’ve reluctantly come to accept possessing, I’ve come to accept my incompatibility with mo
dern dating. I just can’t have sex without becoming emotionally involved. Being involved isn’t such a bad thing – I think it could be potentially good for both Abby and I, but I just haven’t met anybody for whom I’ve been interested in letting myself feel that sort of attachment for. I certainly haven’t met anybody that I would want to be a maternal influence in my daughter’s life. Abigail Jane, or Janie, was the love of my life. Hands down, no questions asked. We met our junior year in high school when she transferred from the city to our rural town. Her grandparents had passed away and her father inherited and chose to work their soy bean farm, which neighbored ours. Her father, Henry, and mine had grown up together. I met him shortly after him moving home but didn’t meet his family when he came to dinner because they were moving a few months later. Janie’s dad wanted to make sure he was settled and comfortable before his wife and Janie came and made the transition to country life.

  I was the confidant, outgoing hometown hero, the varsity quarterback and homecoming king. She was the big city girl that all the girls wanted to be. The first time I saw her in the halls, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite see me that way. She thought that because I was the small town star quarterback, I had a huge ego and to be honest, I kind of did. It took me months to convince her to go on a date with me but she finally caved. When she did, I made sure to sweep her off her feet because I knew she was the kind of girl unlikely to give me another chance if I screwed up.

  After that first date, we were inseparable. She made me a better person, she taught me to be humble and from her I also learned to be kind and open. She was warm and loving, and our life together was perfect. We moved to the city and went to college together after high school. We got married the summer after our freshman year, even though most everybody told us we were way too young for that sort of commitment. The people who really knew us though, they got it. They would tell the doubters that Janie and I had the kind of love a lot of people never got and that we’d be fine - and we were. We were perfect together.