Stuck with You: A ONE WEEK Novella Read online

  “You want a smoothie? Strawberry banana.”

  I’m not quite ready to get out of my cozy bed and face the day. “Save some for me… I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Okay… see you later, lazy bum.”

  I drift off slowly, full of Jacob thoughts. I’m still going forward with my plan for the week. There’s no reason I can’t do all the things I’d planned, even if Jacob is around. And since I got off last night and got the horniness out of the way, I’m good. He won’t be able to seduce me.

  Just as I’m about to fall into a beautiful morning nap, I’m rudely woken by a very loud rendition of Sweet Home Alabama. I like that song as much as the next gal, but not at seven in the morning.

  Ugh.

  I stomp out of bed, livid. “Jacob, seriously?”

  The music stops abruptly. “What? You like that song.”

  “Not at seven in the morning!”

  He checks the oversized retro clock on the wall. “Well, actually, it’s five to eight. I think it’s time you get up.”

  “Well, who are you? My mother?”

  “Um… no. Speaking of your mom. How is she? I’ve missed her.”

  I suck in a long breath, attempting to calm myself. Don’t even get me started about my mother. She absolutely adores Jacob, and every time I see her, she all but begs me to take him back. She doesn’t understand why we’ve broken up and I’m not about to go into all the infertility issues, which she is very well aware of. Doesn’t she understand? Doesn’t anyone understand?

  I huff as I trudge back to my room. Might as well get started with the day, since there’s no way I’m getting any sleep now. On the agenda today is a nice walk on the beach, maybe a swim, and a good book. I’m watching Pretty Woman tonight on DVD… haven’t seen it in ages.

  I have no clue what Jacob will be up to, and I really shouldn’t care.

  * * *

  I grab my smoothie from the refrigerator and take it with me on my walk. Jacob is nowhere in sight, and I’m glad because I know he’d probably tell me that I need to eat a better breakfast if he saw me run off with just a smoothie.

  It’s a beautiful day. I’ve got my sunblock, sunhat, and flip-flops on. It’s quiet… just me and the puppies, and a woman in the distance, walking a dog. I walk toward the water. The lake is calm today. I flick off my flip-flops and tentatively dip my feet in the water. It’s freaking cold!

  I want to take a dip, but I’m not courageous enough. I opt to simply walk down the beach and enjoy the fresh air and quiet. I don’t often take the time to be reflective. Truth be told, I’m afraid to. When I think too much, it all comes rushing forth.

  How did our lives end up here? Years ago, we were madly in love, the happiest couple I knew. The trouble started just a few years ago. We’d been trying for a baby for over a year… and nothing. We finally decided to go see the doctor. Following a battery of tests, it was clear as day that I was the problem. Blocked tubes, damaged from years of endometriosis — my reproductive organs were a dog’s breakfast. Following surgery to clean me up, I had renewed hope, but our infertility issues still persisted.

  I’ve seen Jacob with his sister’s kids — he’s such a great uncle, and he loves children. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s told me he wants kids. We used to joke about it all the time back then — we’d have a boy and girl, and we’d name them Bonnie and Clyde. He loves to take care of people, including me. And I know that he’d be a great dad. He has the biggest heart of anyone I know… that’s why I married him. He has so much love to give, and me… I’m just not enough.

  I’m the only one holding him back. If it weren’t for me and my useless uterus, he’d already be a dad by now. I know that he’ll never leave me — even if he wanted to, he’s too sweet for that. It’s all up to me. I’ve tried pushing him away. I’ve been a real bitch if I’m honest. But still, he sticks around. I don’t get it. He says it’s because he loves me. But how can he love someone as damaged as me. My father certainly didn’t — he left us when I was ten.

  I know Jacob will find someone else as soon as he’s ready, as soon as he’s over me. How could he not? He’s sweet, rich, and sexy as hell. He can hook up with someone ten years younger (and a lot less complicated) and have a house full of kids. It’s what he deserves.

  But he’s never going to move on if we keep having sex, if we keep spending time together. We’d been doing well lately, and when he called me to go over our finances one last time, my hopes were up.

  The waves are crashing and the seagulls are flying overhead, singing their not-so-lovely song. The woman with the dog nears, and I get a closer look at her dog, a beautiful yellow lab. For a split second I imagine Jacob and I, a dark haired little boy, and a beautiful yellow lab.

  I shake my head, willing the vision to fade. It sometimes pops up like this, at random times. It is heartbreaking, and I don’t quite understand it.

  Abby and Baxter yap at the dog, and its owner pulls at its leash, trying to avoid a confrontation. Likewise, I pull at the dogs, and veer left. “Settle down,” I scoff. “Seriously, it’s just a dog, guys. Have you never seen another dog before.”

  Baxter shoots me ‘the look’. It’s almost as if he’s saying, Stop screaming at us, Mommy.

  I blow out a breath. “Well, you two stop being little wankers, and I’ll stop screaming at you.”

  When I get back to the cottage, Jacob is sitting out on the porch, his guitar on his lap, his long legs stretched out, a coffee at his side. He shoots me a wink as I step onto the porch, and I’m immediately brought back to last night’s events. It was just a little slip — won’t happen again. “How was the walk?”

  I smile down at him. “Good. The puppies liked it.”

  Abby walks up to him, eager for a little Jacob attention. He ruffles her head. “Why don’t you sit for a second. I can get you a drink.”

  I stare at him for a beat. He knows I want him out of my sight.

  “A margarita?”

  I smile. Well, it’s early but that does sound pretty good. “What’s your plan, Jacob?”

  “What?” he says with a clueless expression. “Just trying to be friendly.”

  “We’re going through a divorce, Jacob. We don’t need to be friendly.” I shake my head. “That just makes everything more complicated.”

  “Well, it didn’t seem too complicated last night,” he teases. “You were enjoying yourself quite a a lot.”

  I blow out a long breath and take a seat in the wicker arm chair across from him. The man needs to be put in his place. “Listen, I was just horny, okay? I haven’t had action in forever, and I just wanted to get off, and so, thanks for that. But it meant nothing.” As soon as I say the words, I regret them. I really don’t want to hurt him.

  He stares down at his feet.

  “Seriously, why are you still around, Jacob? Why aren't you out with some hot young thing? Other guys your age would kill for this opportunity.”

  His face falls. “I don’t want some hot young thing,” he tells me. “I want you.”

  We keep going around in circles. I want him too. I’ll always want him. He looks so delicious sitting there with his messy morning hair, sexy beard, and guitar.

  I stand to leave. “You know the rules,” I remind him. “No playing that thing in front of me.”

  He smiles playfully. “I know you can’t resist me when I play,” he teases as he starts to strum.

  I get off the porch as fast as I can.

  It’s afternoon and Jacob is still sitting on the porch, enjoying the almost-summer weather. He’s put away the guitar and is reading his book.

  I’ve been wanting to hang outside too and watch the water, but he seems to be planning to sit there all day. I make a pitcher of lemonade and decide that sitting next to him on the porch won’t be the end of the world.

  He smiles as I pour us both glasses. Baxter is sitting at my feet and Abby is sitting at his. As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s kind of a sweet pictur
e.

  “So I guess you’re not dating anyone right now,” he says. “You know… since you’re not getting any action.”

  He’s so damn nosy. “Well, no, not at the moment. I like my solitude.”

  He seems pleased by my response. “Me neither… no time.”

  I turn to him. “Well, you should make the time, Jacob. You need to move on.”

  He shakes his head. “Yeah… you keep saying, but God, last night… Corrie. We still have so much passion.”

  “Uh… change of subject, please.” The last thing I need is to be brought back to last night.

  I catch a glimpse of him in the distance. He’s just a tiny line, but for some reason, I know it’s him — the man who makes tables.

  I study his shape as he nears. With every step he takes, he becomes more clear. He’s wearing dark cargo pants, and a white long sleeved top, and what’s that on his head? A cowboy hat? Damn, it looks good on him.

  Jacob studies him curiously as he inches nearer. Alex throws a hand up in a friendly wave, and I return the gesture, full of barely concealed excitement.

  “Hey, Alex,” I call out. I don’t know what possesses me, but I think it might have a little something to do with me trying to make Jacob jealous. I don’t know why I’m playing games. I’m not even sure I am playing games. I’m just trying to show Jacob that there are other fish in the sea and I’m trying to moving on. And maybe he should try too.

  “Hey, Corrie,” Alex says. He has a confident sexy voice with a hint of a drawl. I’m so happy he remembered my name properly, with Ming always calling me Connie and all.

  “No tool belt today?” I ask in my flirtiest voice.

  He laughs and looks down at his worn pants. “Nope. Just taking it easy today…out for a walk.”

  “It’s nice out, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful.” He lifts the tip of his hat and shoots Jacob a curious look. He throws out his hand. “I’m Alex. I live a few cottages down.”

  Jacob shakes his hand a little too enthusiastically. “Jacob MacMillan,” he says, very business-like. Between the lines, he’s saying, You may be a young good-looking cowboy, but I’m a successful attorney, and drive a Mercedes worth twenty times what your piece of junk pick-up is worth.

  Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly what it’s saying, but it’s something like that.

  “Nice to meet you, Jacob,” Alex offers, all smiles. Jacob reciprocates, but I can tell he’s just being polite.

  Alex turns to me. “I’m so glad I ran into you, Corrie, because if you have the time today, I’d love to show you my studio.”

  My heart does a little flip. What?! “Uh… sure, yes. I’m free all day.” Could I possibly sound more desperate? I want to go back in time and be a bit more cool. He’s probably just trying to sell his wares. I’m sure he’s not interested in an old bat like me. He probably has a bouncy, perky girlfriend naked in his bed right now, sipping on a bubble tea.

  Jacob’s expression is priceless — he’s not impressed.

  “Yes, I’d love to see your work,” I tell Alex, my words measured. “When can you show me?”

  His whole face lights up. “Now?”

  I bite my lip, mulling it over for a beat. “Sure.”

  Meanwhile, Jacob’s mouth is agape in shock. He’s trying to process our conversation. “Uh… what is it that you do, buddy?” he asks. “Are you an artist?”

  “I work with reclaimed wood,” he tells him. “I build tables, chairs, benches, barn doors, coat racks… anything really. My stuff is all handmade, rustic, perfect for cottage living.”

  Jacob nods slowly. “Interesting…”

  I can see his little brain working… he’s up to something.

  “I’d love to see it too,” Jacob says, full of enthusiasm. “Can I tag along?”

  Oh great… he’s cockblocking me now. Just great!

  “Uh… sure.” Alex seems taken aback. “Uh yes… the more the merrier,” he adds, but his words are lacking enthusiasm. I’m delighted by his reaction — if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Alex is disappointed. Perhaps he wanted me all to himself.

  A woman can dream.

  7

  Alex’s studio is pretty cool. It sits at the back of his cottage, in a separate building, and it’s huge. Planks of old worn wood are piled against the walls. Scary looking tools and contraptions are everywhere. Heavy steel legs of all shapes and sizes are stacked in a corner. A gigantic fan sits in the other corner, oscillating. The lights on the ceiling are bright and harsh. A radio is playing, next to a small coffee station.

  “Great place,” Jacob offers.

  What catches my eye are the finished pieces. There’s a striking armoire — two stain-glass windows at the top, elaborate antique knobs, and a beautiful dark wood. The craftsmanship is flawless and detailed. I open the doors gently, surprised by the amount of space. Finally, I check the price tag, and I almost have a heart attack — it’s six thousand dollars. Thank you, next.

  Alex shoots me a smile. “That’s my most expensive piece,” he tells me. “It’s walnut. A lot of work went into that one. I almost don’t want to sell it.”

  There’s also a beautiful table to the right, a bench, a sideboard, a collection of coat hooks are hanging on the wall. The texture of patterns in the wood is beautiful and instantly makes me feel at one with nature. I want it all. Of course, I only need one piece, so I focus my attention on the table. I slide my palm against the wood. “This is gorgeous.”

  Alex’s bright blue eyes fix me. “Thank you. You were looking for a dining table, right? I custom build them to client’s’ specifications,” he explains in full salesman mode. My heart sinks — maybe he’s just trying to sell, after all.

  “I offer lots of choices for the bases,” he goes on as he rummages through an old rusty steel desk. “Here, I have a brochure. You can pick the base which suits you best.”

  He hands me the small catalog, and I flip quickly through. “Cool.”

  Jacob is busy studying the armoire I coveted. He seems to like it too.

  “Isn’t it fabulous?” I say. “I love it.”

  “One of a kind,” Alex chimes in.

  I frown like a spoiled kid. “Too bad it’s not in my budget.”

  “Yeah, a little pricey,” Jacob agrees and moves on.

  “I really do like the table. I’ve never quite seen anything like it,” I say to Alex. “Do you think this would look good in the condo?” I ask Jacob.

  He smiles. “You still haven’t bought yourself a table?”

  I frown. “Been kind of busy,” I say, but really, I haven’t. I’ve just been avoiding the whole thing. To buy a new table is admitting to myself that Jacob and I are really over, that we are never moving back in together. For some reason, I’m not quite ready to face that yet.

  “It’s gorgeous,” he says. “It’d look great. You just need to make sure you get the right size.”

  I check the price tag. It’s twelve hundred dollars… doable. “The price varies according to size and base?” I ask.

  Alex smirks. “Exactly. And also which wood I use,” he says. “You catch on quick, Corrie.”

  “I do.”

  Alex hands me a business card and urges me to contact him once I’ve taken the measurements. I sigh as I take the card — yes, he truly is only trying to make a buck. I don’t blame him — we all need to make a living. He’s probably been salivating, aching to charm me, drag me to his studio, and sell me something as soon as he spotted my Gucci boat shoes and my fancy dogs yesterday.

  Well, might as well make the boy happy.

  It’s a few hours later, and I’m still irked at Jacob for trying to cockblock me, for being so possessive and jealous. He had no business being at Alex’s studio. I happen to know for a fact that he’s not in the market for new furniture.

  I’ve been reading on the porch, ignoring him all day, and he’s been doing God knows what.

  He has an impish smile when he peers his head in.
“Hey, what’s up?”

  “Just reading.”

  “I’m making spaghetti for dinner,” he tells me. “I know how you love it.”

  I’m determined to keep the line between us drawn. I’m not about to blur it with an intimate dinner, no matter how much I do love his spaghetti. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  A small chuckle escapes him. “What’d you bring? Lean Cuisine frozen meals?”

  Damn, he knows me so well. He knows I don’t cook much, and it’s true, my diet has consisted mostly of frozen meals lately, and I’m so sick of it.

  “Well, I’ll make extra and if you change your mind, let me know.” He shoots me a wink for good measure.

  Oh, how I hate him sometimes.

  The man knows the way into my pants, and that’s either with food, a song on the guitar, or his special touch. I should have added that to the rules: no cooking of delicious meals.

  Sure enough, as much as I struggle to resist his spaghetti, the smell wafts through the cottage, and as soon as I step into the kitchen, I’m done for. He shoots me a playful smile, as if he knows exactly what is going through my mind. Of course he does. “Changed your mind?”

  Damn, it smells good, and he looks so fucking hot, standing over the stove, stirring the pasta. The man is going to be the end of me.

  “Yeah, I did,” I confess. “But this doesn’t mean anything,” I stress. “Don’t get any ideas. This isn't going to be a romantic dinner, and right after I scarf down your pasta, I’m going back to reading my book and ignoring you.”

  His grin is playful. “Suit yourself,” he says. “I also made Caesar salad.”

  I help Jacob set the table and serve the food. He brushes against me ‘accidentally’ more than once. As I settle down at the kitchen table, my stomach is growling, as if it’s saying, Finally, real food!

  It’s so damn good. I close my eyes as I savor my first delicious bite. When I open them, Jacob is staring at me, a huge grin on his face. “I love watching you eat,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat with such passion,” he teases.