The Dilemma: The Philistine Heart (Book 2) Page 2

  Jason grinned, wiping his hands on a napkin. “I had a six-month stint as a vegetarian while I was in Seattle. I never realized how much I missed meat. I can’t get enough of it.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” Nate asked with a puzzled look.

  “You know why.”

  “Ah, say no more. Jennifer tried to pull that vegan crap on me after Chelsea was born. I can’t believe a woman could have you so whipped you’d keep up that charade for six months. Hell, I can’t believe anyone tied you down for six months at all. She must have been something special.”

  “She was,” Jason replied, matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, before I forget, here’s the number for that guy you wanted. I didn't want to text it; he’s kind of a ghost. These days, staying anonymous means keeping the digital trail to a minimum. You know how it is.”

  “Yeah, I do. Thanks,” Jason replied, accepting the folded paper from Nate.

  “Why are you getting mixed up with him? He’s not exactly on the up and up.”

  “Nothing serious. I’ve used him in the past, but he’s moved around since then, and I lost touch. Let’s just say that I have a delicate matter that requires his talents.”

  “Understood, I hate to admit it, but he’s cleaned up more than one of my messes,” Nate replied, effectively putting the conversation to rest. “So, are you sticking around New York for a while, or are you going to jettison off across the country again?”

  “I’m in New York for a while. I have to stay for my son. But I’ll be back and forth between here and Seattle for the next few weeks. I’ve got some unfinished business there.”

  “’Let me guess; your unfinished business has something to do with why you need that number.”

  “Exactly,” Jason replied, polishing off the last of his burger.

  Two

  Girl Talk

  “Aww, remember this? We were so cute in our matching cream, sweater dresses at the ballet. That was such a magical night. It’s so bittersweet how time flies by when you’re not paying attention. I swear, it feels like only yesterday, we were seated on the balcony, watching the peacock do the Arabian dance across the stage,” Susan said wistfully, flipping Bridget’s laptop around to reveal the two of them posing for a selfie, outside McCaw Hall, for the evening performance of The Nutcracker.

  “Oh Geez,” Bridget laughed. “Susan, that was from three weeks ago. And we only wore matching dresses because you forgot that you’d already purchased that dress, and bought it again on sale. Then you tried to play it off as though it was your intention all along that we would wear matching outfits for the ballet. I had to grill you for an hour to get the real story, or don’t you remember that?”

  “Come on, Bridge. I’m feeling nostalgic. Don’t ruin the moment. Just humor me, will you?”

  “Okay, fine. Yes, we were adorable.”

  “And this one, our Halloween party at work. I was Black Widow, and you were Sponge Bob. I practically had to twist your arm to get you in a costume. And when I finally did, you decided to choose the goofiest character you could think of. You’ve always either shied away from group activities or made a mockery of them.”

  “Participation has never been my strong point. It’s a vestige of my teenage angst. Even in my adult years, I’ve never fully recovered,” Bridget joked.

  “That’s why I put in the extra effort to get you out of your comfort zone, and around other people. Even if it means I have to drag you out of your apartment, kicking and screaming, for a night out at the club.”

  “You’ve always been my own personal, overly caffeinated, cheerleader. Without you, who’s going to interrupt an otherwise peaceful weekend with entreaties to join you at some hot new club, where you’ll ditch me for a guy and leave me stranded to catch a cab home alone?”

  “That only happened twice! And you saw Niko: you know, muscles for days, eyes that smoldered so hot they could melt the Arctic tundra. Who in their right mind would pass that up? And the other time … what’s so funny?” Susan asked, distracted by Bridget’s eruption of light-hearted laughter.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how different we are. I doubt we would have given each other the time of day in college. You would have been busy with your sorority, pet causes, and parties — probably filled with certitude that anyone not having as much fun as you, wasn’t living at all. I, on the other hand, would have hidden away from the crowds, preferring to occupy my time tucked away in my dorm room, studying, reading and listening to Mariah Carey’s Outside on repeat. I was equally certain that my tragic take on life was the absolute correct perspective on reality; and pitied anyone who couldn’t see what I saw. Here we are, still polar opposites in so many ways, but we’re the best of friends.”

  “Now you're going to make me cry. Do you really have to move all the way to Texas? Isn’t there a chance you could convince Blake to move here?”

  Bridget let out a heavy sigh. After over five years in a long distance relationship with Blake, she finally decided to stop inventing reasons that they should be apart and make the move to join him in Texas. She never considered asking Blake to move for her; even though she knew he would. But it wouldn’t have been a fair trade.

  She had nothing to offer Blake in Washington. She wasn’t particularly close to her family, nor did she have an extensive list of friends from which to say her goodbyes. Susan was the only person she’d genuinely miss. In the past, she used her job as an excuse to stay in Washington. As the creative director at one of the top advertising agencies in Seattle, she didn’t want to relinquish such a prominent position after only one year. But it only took a six-month stint away from Blake for her to finally have a long overdue epiphany — that it was just a job; and a job was easily replaced — the love of her life wasn’t.

  “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Blake has deep roots in Texas. He’s really close to his family and has longtime friends that are practically like brothers to him. He’d give up a lot more moving to Seattle than I would moving to Texas.”

  “That’s pretty insulting,” Susan said, feigning a hurt expression.

  “You know what I mean. Things are just getting back to normal with Blake and me. The last thing I want is to sabotage all the progress we’ve made by doing something that I know will hurt him in the long run. We'll still talk on the phone, and you can always visit. Besides, with rent going up more than double when my lease renewed, the move couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  “It won’t be the same,” Susan said with a playful pout, obstinately folding her arms in front of her.

  “I know,” Bridget sighed, as it started to hit her how much everything was changing. It was only one year ago that she ended her engagement with Blake; since then, they’d both been through the emotional trenches. She had a six-month long affair with Jason — at the time she thought they’d be together forever. But forever was cut short, and with distance came perspective: now, she couldn’t help but wonder if what she and Jason had together wasn’t anything more than good, old-fashioned hormone driven infatuation. She’d always thought herself too sensible to become entangled in that sort of animalistic, teenage mindset. Until Jason, she’d say sensible was an accurate way to describe her conduct when it came to men. But knowing him changed her.

  In every way, he seemed like the perfect man: smart, successful, unbearably handsome with a Greek godlike sexiness. Every now and again she’d succumb to a moment of weakness and indulge in the memory of him — the kind that, if entertained with too much alacrity, would have her in tears by the end of the day. She would think about how his eyes shone like green sapphires under the glare of sunlight. And how, with a glance, they could pierce through to her soul, and take possession, so that her only thought was to love him and her only desire, to please him.

  And his smile: always brilliant with a hint of cockiness. It had a way of leaving an impression on her. Cajoling her into a frenzied hunger that could only be sated by his touch, long after she’d forgotten
the impetus for her yearning. He was beyond sexy, he was beautiful — and when they were together, they belonged to each other. At least that’s what she wanted to believe. Infatuation had a way of distorting reality.

  Over the six months since they’d broken up, those moments of weakness became ever fleeting and rare. It was a kindness to allow herself to forget. Reliving even the most innocuous moments between them was a perilous road to travel, leading to memories all too painful — memories that made her think about how much she missed him.

  After Jason, she gave up on the idea of love. But she didn’t return to her former cynicism: the belief that passion and love were at odds, and each was only tested when the other was tamed. If what she and Jason had was indeed love, then it was proof that love could be wild and unchecked; and still be as genuine as any grand love affair that stood the test of time. If it were indeed true love … her waning resolve on the matter was an unfortunate casualty of distance. However she might ultimately classify what they had together, in the end, like all things born of blind passion and sustained by lust, their relationship abruptly came to an end when reality reared its ugly head. Things that should have been known from the beginning were finally revealed, and the perfect man she thought she knew turned out to be a fraud.

  It wasn’t until she accepted her status as a woman who failed at love twice that Blake was back in the picture. She didn’t expect anything from him. After how horribly she’d treated him, it would only serve her right that he should remain entirely unsympathetic to her situation. But being the sort to take pride in the valiancy of honor and forgiveness, he took her back without the slightest hint of hesitation. That’s when she knew how much he loved her. How she didn’t see it before was only further evidence of what a fool she'd been.

  Blake was the best thing that ever happened to her. Jason was little more than a fairy tale. He was an impossible standard of love, partially crafted in her mind, set to accomplish one goal — to keep her from true happiness. He was a way of never having to take responsibility for her role in making a relationship work. She never had to try with Jason. He made everything seem effortless. Perhaps that was his greatest con: he made love seem uncomplicated.

  With Blake, love, like life, was a daily struggle. It had its ups and downs, but she could count on it being authentically real. Blake was a straight shooter; there were no secrets or concerns of duplicity with him. He was very much a what you see is what you get kind of guy. And what she saw was the sweetest, most honorable man she’d ever known.

  When her and Blake started things up again, she made a promise to herself: that she would never again leave her happiness at the mercy of a naive heart. The heart can act as a guide for love, but it isn’t the entire roadmap. How many blindly follow the voice of their GPS only to find themselves stranded in a barren clearing or plunged into the depths of a lake on a rainy day? If only they had looked at the signs in front of them, spelling out the dangers ahead. Perhaps they would have reached their destination sooner, without the perilous detours in between.

  “You know, it hasn’t escaped my attention that we’ve known each other for almost two years and I’ve still never met Blake. I’m beginning to think you’re keeping him away on purpose,” Susan said, cutting into Bridget’s thoughts.

  “Why on earth would I do that? He only flies in once a month. Is it really so awful that I want him all to myself on the few days he’s in town?” Bridget asked, innocently.

  “I guess not. Honestly, I feel a little left out. Here I am, introducing you to men I’ve only known for a few hours, and I have yet to meet the guy whose sexual inclinations we’ve talked about in graphic detail.”

  “About that, I would prefer when you meet him, you don’t let on that you know anything about our bedroom proclivities. He’s very traditional when it comes to keeping intimate, sex stuff, private. It would make him really uncomfortable.”

  “Oh Bridge, you’re acting like I’m bereft of all social grace. Have you forgotten I do PR for a living? I’m a people person. People is what I do. I’m like a social chameleon — sussing out a person’s nature is my specialty. How do you think I got you to open up to me? Besides, you’ll never have to worry about my making Blake uncomfortable, since by all appearances he and I will never meet. I’ve noticed a pattern with you and your men; you tend to hide them away and keep them for yourself. Even with Jason, we never hung out together. The only time we were ever, all three, in the same place at once, was at work. I’m starting to suspect that you’re ashamed of our friendship.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I’m not ashamed of you. I admit that I’m a tad overprotective when it comes to my relationships. When Blake and I are together, I don’t like to share his attention. The last thing on my mind when we’re snuggling in front of the television is to invite another person to join us. As for Jason,” Bridget said, trying not to flinch at the mention of his name, “we were of the same mind in that regard — we both liked our privacy.

  “But you won't have to worry about that with Blake. He’s more like you — very open and social. He can start up a conversation with just about anyone. I’m sure the two of you will hit it off right away. He’s flying in at the end of the month. Maybe we can all go out to dinner or something. It’ll be fun.”

  “That would be fun! And it doesn’t have to be just the three of us. I can bring someone, and we can make it a double date. I’ve always wanted to do that with you. You know, where we can sneak off to the bathroom and talk about our guys. We should definitely set it up. Oh! And I know the perfect venue. We could even do a whole going away party. I’ll plan everything; you won’t have to worry about a thing. It’ll be fabulous!” Susan squealed, clapping her hands together with excitement.

  “Um, I’m not sure about a party,” Bridget replied, with a dubious frown.

  “Why not?”

  “For one, it might be a bit anti-climatic since I’m not leaving for another four months. Not to mention, I’m sure I won’t know 99% of the people you invite. It will be much less a going away party than a gathering of people who wouldn’t know me from a stranger on the street.”

  “Okay, point taken. But the dinner idea is still good. I can get us a table at Chez Francois. What do you say?”

  “I think that sounds good,” Bridget replied, distractedly rubbing her wrists.

  “I was going to ask you what was going on there,” Susan said, eyeing what appeared to be a burn line circling Bridget’s wrist.

  “It’s nothing,” Bridget replied, attempting to keep her tone casual, even as she began to blush from ear to ear.

  “Now, I know it’s something. Come on, spill. You can either tell me, or I’ll take this snap pea crisp and crush it behind the sofa cushion, so it falls into the crevice of the couch; and you know how hard that area is to clean, even with the vacuum wand.” Susan held a snap pea crisp over the sofa cushion to show she wasn’t making an idle threat.

  “Ok, ok, no need to get crazy,” Bridget laughed, holding up her hands to surrender. Susan often poked fun at what she referred to as Bridget’s obsessive compulsive need to sanitize everything. Bridget was the first to admit she was a neat freak. She liked her surroundings immaculate. Her compulsions were such that even a benign dust bunny could result in her arsenal of cleaning gear making an appearance.

  It was a symptom of her overwhelming need to control her environment, a revelation she came to after watching a few clips of Dr. Phil on Youtube. In the past, she tried to sanitize everything, including her relationship with Blake. This time around she was making an effort to ease up on her compulsions and live life with a more carefree outlook, even if that meant she might get a little dirty in the process. So far, she was still a work in progress.

  “Let’s just say Blake and I decided to get a little creative last weekend when I visited him in Texas,” Bridget said, with a shy smile.

  “Ooo, that sounds hot. Let me guess, you guys liked Fifty Shades of Grey so much you decided to make
the fourth installment on your own. Is Blake your dominant Christian ready to punish his sweet, submissive, Anastasia? From the looks of those wrist burns, I’m guessing you’re dabbling in BDSM,” Susan joked.

  “Believe it or not, you’re not that far off. Except the Fifty Shades of Grey part. I’m more likely to sit through an entire night of WWE matches than Blake is to watch that movie — if it’s not some obscure documentary about alien sightings or a political conspiracy, then he’s not interested. Besides, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that what we’re doing is BDSM — not that I’m an expert or anything. I mean we do … things … that are somewhat out of the ordinary, sure, but nothing that I would classify as hardcore. We kind of just … you now … do what comes naturally.”

  “Like, what do you mean?” Susan asked curiously, popping another snap pea crisp in her mouth.

  “Well, um … it’s a little odd to describe. It’s something I never thought I’d do — or let anyone do to me. I personally don’t get the appeal. I don’t exactly stay plugged into the latest sex crazes. But you know how it is with fetishes, people get into things … they don’t really make sense, but you do them, you know. What’s the harm in trying it out? You do it once, it’s done, and then you can move on…”

  “Oh geez Bridge, just spit it out!” Susan laughed.

  Bridget playfully narrowed her eyes at Susan. “The night before Blake went back to Texas, we started talking about things we’d like to do to each other, er, you know, fantasies.”

  “And?” Susan asked, eagerly.

  “And, Blake mentioned that he’d recently been intrigued by the idea of choking.”

  “Wow … choking. That’s … different. I mean, it's a little dark even for my taste. And you went along with it?”