Subsequential

Carra took Dom home with her. He said he didn’t want to go home, and she didn’t question him on it, but didn’t feel right dumping him at some hotel.

They didn’t speak much. A few words here or there. They had delivery for dinner and then she showed him to a guest room. Next morning he was up before her. She found him sitting in the sunlit kitchen with a bowl of cornflakes.

“Nice place you got here.”

She smiled, inspecting the fridge, “You just like the food.”

He stared at his spoon for a second then shrugged before diving the utensil back into the overlarge bowl.

Bottled cappuccino looked like a healthy breakfast. “Leon was always happy about the food. Thought he’d like the cars, the pool, the hot tub, whatever. No, he liked the food.”

“Boy liked to eat.”

She rolled her eyes. “And stupid stuff,” she complained, remembering. “Applesauce, pudding cups, fruit, cereal. Nothing special at all. He just liked having the simple stuff to choose from.”

“Applesauce?” He sounded unconvinced.

Carra reached into the cabinet and grabbed one of the single serving cups. She tossed it at Dom. He caught it easily. A minute later he was scraping the bottom and nodding. “Good shit.”

“It’s strawberry-banana or some such yuck. Loved the stupid things.”

Silence. At first it seemed natural, but the longer it went on the more uncomfortable it got.

“So where do we go from here?” He’d finished his cereal and pushed the bowl away and he spoke before lifting dark eyes to look at her.

She shrugged one shoulder, taking a sip of her bottle. “My driver can take you home. He’ll be here at nine. After that, have a nice life.”

He nodded slowly, his bottom lip drawing in. Did he do that all the time?

Another long silence.

“Don’t seem right.”

Carra just stared at him. “I’m not your friend. Leon’s gone and now we’re both miserable but that doesn’t change that you’re an asshole and I don’t like you.” She shrugged, “And come to think of it, you don’t like me much either. So go back to your side of the tracks or whatever you want to call it and live happily ever after or whatever.”

“You’re not going to forgive me for assuming you were a rich bitch?”

She snorted her laughter, “Uh, sure. But that doesn’t change the last years or the month that it took Leon to die or that you’re still an asshole.”

His head tilted as if he were considering and his eyes dropped from hers. He stood, bringing his bowl to the counter beside the sink, just a step away from her. “Maybe I want to apologize,” he said in the low rough voice.

She turned to look at him, not in the least affected by his sudden attempt at charm. “Fine, apology accepted, but I’m still not going to be your friend. You judged me without ever speaking to me, and then proceeded to ruin our lives on the basis of that judgment. So I don’t feel the least bit sorry for judging you now.”

He stepped closer and she stared at him, half in surprise, half in confusion. The first thing that entered her mind couldn’t be true. No way was he going to try to…

Kiss her!

Hand at her neck, he dropped his mouth to hers in a second and she was too shocked to react instantly. Only seconds. Warm and firm, strong and knowledgeable. She learned all this in the time before she shoved away from him and slapped him.

That lip of his sucked in, and this time she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She took a deep breath, forcing her gaze away from him. Out the far windows seemed a safe bet. “I don’t know what you think that was, but I’d appreciate it if you left.” She was surprised at how close to tears she felt, and for the first time in a long time it wasn’t in any way related to Leon.

“I don’t want to.” His voice was silky soft.

Was he trying to be threatening? She looked up at him, just a foot away. No, not threatening, but terribly earnest.

She walked away. After ten steps, when she knew for sure he was going to let her go she was torn between feeling relieved and strangely disappointed. But what had she wanted? Even if she thought he was attractive on some subconscious level, there would never be any getting over the guilt of being with her husband’s best friend just a month after his funeral. Especially when she saw him as partially responsible.

Ten minutes later when she returned from her bedroom, now dressed for work he was still there. Standing in her kitchen with bare feet and a relaxed attitude that said he was completely fine with what he’d done.

Yeah, making passes at your best friend’s widow was just so acceptable.

“Going out?”

His tone was casual, as if just speaking to her in passing.

Carra stopped and just stared at him. Goddamn him, why did he have to be so attractive? Or worse yet, why did he have to know it and play it? She was a lonely widow here. Obviously she hadn’t had anything in months. Seeing him leaning against her counter putting that taut waist and ass and those wide shoulders on display for her just wasn’t fair. Then that cavalier attitude didn’t help one bit.

“Yes, I’m going to work. Can’t say it was nice visiting. The driver will take you to wherever.”

He glanced past her then back at her. “You ain’t waitin’ for the driver?”

She stepped towards the door. “No. I drive myself.”

He moved toward her, not quickly, but not too slowly either. “You live alone but have a fulltime driver.”

Door open, she glared at him. “I didn’t live alone before, asshole.” She slammed the door and trotted down the steps to the garage.

There, that was better. Walking away from him earlier had made her feel somehow bad, like she was at fault, or was wrong. But that parting shot affirmed it. He was an asshole, and she shouldn’t feel at all bad for being rude and walking away.