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Before I could reply, she brushed past me in the doorway, filling my senses with the smell of her flowery shampoo. I was momentarily transfixed by this new scent, this new thing I’d learned about Amelia, and she had to call out to me over her shoulder to regain my attention, “C’mon,Old Man. Once I get these suitcases in your guestroom, let’s do some stretching before lunch.”
I turned around to face her where she stood at the front door with one hand on her hip and the other perched on the tied-together handles of her suitcases. “Old Man?” I grunted with a smirk. “Be careful, Red, you’re playing with fire.”
Despite her earlier warning, it seemed Amelia was in an playful mood of her own because as she slipped by me again with her suitcases, the girl I’d been lusting after winked and teased, “Maybe I don’t mind the possibility of getting burned.”
It was my turn to flush pink and Amelia must have noticed because she took pity on me, gesturing for me to step out of her room first so that I wouldn’t be tempted by the close proximity of her body again.
As I staggered backward, I began to selfishly wonder how long we’d last before giving in to our passions. Clearly, Amelia had at least an inkling of attraction to me, and every moment we’d now spend near each other would undoubtedly become a ticking time bomb. In my heart, I knew I had to be especially careful now that we were living together—one fuck-up on my end and I could ruin the best thing that had ever happened to me. Slow and steady would win the race, I was sure of it.
I gripped the mahogany cane I’d swapped for my crutch tightly, and observed fondly as Amelia fluttered around my mansion, making herself at home.
Amelia
To his credit, Josh didn’t immediately become an unbearable philanderer the second I stepped foot in his obnoxiously large house. In fact, my sole client was more standoffish than overtly friendly for the entire month of March, aside from the occasional comments he would let slip.
We had more arguments than we ever did in my office, each more colorful and biting than the last. They would usually start with Josh complaining that I was being too hard on him for pushing him to get a stretch or exercise right. To which I would reply something along the lines of, “If you stopped being so obstinate and let me do my job, we’d be done by now,” while clasping his shoulder in a firm, authoritative grip.
It was new territory for us, me as a pseudo-guest in Josh’s home where he was clearly more comfortable than at my former clinic, and the burgeoning tension between us that reared its head excitedly whenever we had a heated conversation. I detested his attitude at times, because while Josh could be kind, there were ever-present reminders that he held the monetary power here.
Staring up at the portrait of him and Laila hanging in his office with contempt, there were occasions when I wondered if this was even worth it—babysitting a spoiled, rich guy who had a propensity for subtly flirting with me while he was still married. And of course, the moment I decided to pack my bags and give Dr. Morales a call, there was Josh, waiting with a pitiful smile on his face and a plate of my favorite food in his lap or a new, unreleased book from my much-loved author.
We would make up, his chocolate-brown eyes softening as he apologized for losing his temper in the middle of a session and my green ones flickering over his handsome face while I said I was sorry for not allowing him a small break. There were things that went unsaid, as seemed to be the theme of my love life with men who were too old for me, but the charged electricity fueling our actions was always there.
Then in April, as we sat out on his porch, enjoying the first warm day of spring, Josh surprised me. Sipping on his iced tea, he casually inquired, “you know Laila and I are getting divorced, right?”
I choked on my own mouthful of the sweet, chilled liquid, sputtering as I replied, “No, I had no idea. I thought she was just someone who traveled a lot for work.”
“She does,” he assured, “but apparently being gone for nine months out of the year wasn’t enough separation.” Josh said that with a wry smile, his eyes hidden by the Ray-Bans perched high on his large nose which I often had dirty notions about.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured genuinely, or as genuinely as I could while secretly thrilled that Josh would soon be single. Sternly reminding myself that he was still my patient, I asked, “How’d it happen?”
“The same way it happens to most,” Josh responded languidly. “You meet this person you think you’ll spend the rest of your life with and then your life ends up being entirely different than you thought it would be.”
“Laila and I were madly in love at first,” he continued, idly circling his pointer finger on the lip of his glass while gazing out at the vibrant flowers in his garden, “and then one day, we just weren’t.”
I decided not to press him for details, even though I was marginally curious about this woman I’d only ever seen on magazine covers. “Well,” I began, wracking my brain for an inspirational sentence or two, “I’ve never been through a divorce, so while I can’t empathize with you, I can understand the hurt you both might feel.”
It sounded better in my head, more amicably honest than brutally blunt, and I was about to backtrack when Josh let out a laugh.
His grin split wide in what looked like authentic mirth and he turned to me, lowering his sunglasses to stare directly at me as he said, “You know, that’s what I like most about you, Red—you never try to bullshit me.”
I snorted in an entirely unladylike way and explained, as I leaned back to relax in my chair, “‘S ‘cause you don’t pay me enough for that, Old Man.” He continued to look at me then and I could feel the weight of his eyes on my serene face even through my closed lids.
“Thanks for keeping me company out here,” Josh murmured at last, the creak of his chaise lounge signaling that he’d finally settled back into his own seat.
“Of course,” I sighed, breathing in the tranquility of the moment. “Have to keep my eye on you anyway so you don’t try to evade our exercise date in an hour.”
Josh chuckled again and I was glad our banter had somehow put him in better spirits after talking about Laila. That revelation made my own spirits soar and some of the guilt I felt about being inadvertently drawn to Josh disappeared.
“If I’d have known we were going on a date, I would have dressed better,” the man next to me teased, no doubt gesturing to his gray sweatpants and white t-shirt.
“You’re incorrigible,” I taunted, resting both hands behind my head, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I didn’t have to peek at him to know that Josh was smiling.
Chapter Eight
Joshua
