Three Words

When Eric woke up, he patted the bed next to him, mildly disappointed but not surprised that Emily wasn't there. It was normal for her to leave before he woke up when she spent the night over there.

He stumbled out of bed to get to the bathroom, peed, and put his boardshorts on. When he opened his door, he smiled a bit at hearing Emily's voice talking to his youngest daughter, Amber. Maybe they could swing by her place and she could get her board and they could hit the beach, and spend the day together.

Both stopped talking when they heard him and he watched Emily stand up and walk over to him. She smiled shyly at him. "It was fun last night. I just wanted to wish you a good day in person for a change," she said as she put her arms around his waist.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, mildly disappointed.

“I told you—I’m helping with the church down the road from the fire they had. We have to clear it all out so we can rebuild it.” He waited for a beat for her to invite him along. When no invitation came, he volunteered. She laughed. “You do construction for a living; everyone deserves some time away from work.” It was said affectionately, lightly. He sighed at the dismissal and finally decided on:

“How about dinner? I’ll cook for you. You’ll probably be starving.”

“You cook?” she asked with her eyebrows raised playfully. 

“I do,” Eric said with a smile.

“He’s really good,” Amber piped in in a singsong voice. Eric was amused at his 20-year-old daughter trying to play wingman and more amused that she was trying to get Emily to come back. A rarity—wanting one of his girlfriends around instead of rolling her eyes and wanting to know what he saw in her.

“Mm. I might have to raise this friends with benefits thing to something higher,” Emily said, playfully examining him, “I’ll be done at 5 or so,” she said with a soft smile and released him. “Have a good day you two.”

After she was gone, Amber looked at her dad and smiled. “She’s nice and not in that ‘I wanna be your stepmom’ way that Dianna was. And she does volunteer work? I’m gonna say she’s a keeper.”

Eric agreed but stayed quiet and just nodded thoughtfully. They had been friends for six years, meeting in the mornings to go surfing. When they both found themselves single five months ago, they discussed the connection they had and decided on taking things a little bit further. But Emily kept noting that they were only friends with benefits, nothing more. Neither had ever said the magical three words that would take things further down the line for them—her never saying ‘I love you’ and him not wanting to scare her off and send her skittering away like a rabbit.

“I’m going to Brianna’s tonight, so I won’t be around,” Amber noted with a small smile.

Eric smiled and sat down at his computer, set the coffee mug down next to him. “How is school going?”

“It’s fine. I’m more interested about what’s going on with you two. You’ve known each other a long time from what she told me.”

“We have.”

“Well?”

Eric sighed. “She doesn’t seem to want to take things any further than meeting up every now and then and texts back and forth.”

Amber let out a loud laugh. “That’s so funny. You’ve met your match.”

Eric smiled a bit. He was usually the one trying to keep things tamped down and in the casual zone. “I guess so,” he agreed.

***

Her playful ‘you cook? I might have to raise this friends with benefits to something higher’ kept playing in his head while he shopped for ingredients, and he considered how their dinner would go. Maybe she’d see more for the two of them. Maybe she’d stop pointing out that they were nothing more than friends who had sex. Maybe.

He’d make her the best dinner ever. Beef with bearnaise sauce and a chocolate souffle for dessert. She’d see that he had skills. If she wasn’t in love, maybe that would be the spark that set her mind that direction.

He carefully picked the ingredients he felt would get the best results from his efforts, daydreaming about how dinner would go, her playful comment rolling around in his head.

***

Everything was turning out perfect. The bearnaise sauce was thickening nicely; he checked on the souffle that was starting to rise as intended and had just put the filet mignon on the hot skillet when the doorbell rang out.

When he answered the door, Emily was standing there, short brown hair all messed up from sweat and work; soot streaked across her face, her pale pink wife-beater, the pair of shorts she was wearing, and streaked down her legs all the way down to the Caterpillar work boots she had on. She smiled shyly. “I’m a mess.”

He pulled her inside and quickly got her out of her clothing. He had never seen her look so hot.

***

Eric’s house was full of smoke and Emily giggled. “I guess dinner is shot.”

He blushed and looked down and let out a small laugh. “Dinner out?” he finally offered up.

She kissed his cheek. “Let me get cleaned up. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

He stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen surveying the damage and wondered if he would ever get the baked on messes off his pots and pans and started putting them in the sink and filling them with water, disappointed that he wasn’t able to show off for Emily and lost in thought at the sink when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. “Impressive. If I use more than one pan to cook, I want someone to go down on me for hours to show their appreciation,” she said and then kissed his neck.

“I fucked up,” he said sheepishly.

“So I noticed when we finished up there and the entire house looked like it was on fire.”

“It was your legs,” he said playfully.

“Too much, huh?”

“It was a distraction,” he agreed as she released him and started to go to the stove to get another pan.

“We’ll let things soak for a bit. I'm starving, so we can get to this after dinner.”

“I’m not even sure any of these pans are salvageable.”

“Sure. A little elbow grease and they’ll be fine,” she said looking at him. She noticed how disappointed he was and added, “It’s no big deal. We have dinner out all the time.”

“That’s the point. I wanted to do something special for you,” Eric said with his head down.

“And you did. I appreciate it,” she said reassuringly, looking at him affectionately, putting her hand on his chin, raising his face, then kissing his cheek. 

***

Her text had said she’d be back from L.A. around 6 p.m. and to make himself at home.

This time, dinner would turn out great. He knocked on the door of Emily’s house and when there was no answer, he let himself in, allowing Su, her dog, to greet him with whines of happiness. He went back to his 4Runner to get the box of pots and pans and the ingredients to make Emily chicken fettucine with Alfredo sauce.

He put the chicken in a pan to brown it and then melted the butter in another pan, added cream, and watched as it boiled. After adding the parmesan cheese, he rolled out the dough to make pasta and watched as Su whined and started walking in circles, his cue that Emily’s blue Subaru had pulled up.

This time, she wouldn’t distract him. She would be too focused on Su and would want to take him for a walk while he finished up dinner. He cut the pasta dough into long strips, not paying any attention when he heard her walk through the door and greet Su. She called out, “Something smells great!”

“Stay away from the kitchen,” Eric called out.

She giggled and he looked up and smiled at her standing in the doorway of her kitchen.

He looked back down to stay focused on his task. She looked so pretty, back from an important meeting up in Los Angeles, dressed in a mid-thigh length black skirt, a white blouse with a black blazer over it set off by a pair of teal color heels that accentuated her already muscular calves—not in her usual 501s and band t-shirt. “Seriously. Don’t fuck up dinner.” She giggled again and he grinned at her. “Stop.” He went back to cutting the pasta into long strips as she came over and placed her arms around his waist and kissed his neck. “Emily,” he protested.

“Eric,” she said playfully and then giggled at him again as she reached down and caressed his penis through his jeans.

He laughed. “No, you don’t. I’m feeding you tonight. No dinner out.”

She giggled again and then kissed his neck. “I had to try.”

“It almost worked.”

“I’ll change and walk Su. Homemade pasta? Shit, I really do have to rethink this,” she said.

Eric blushed and smiled and watched her walk away. He hoped she would. Six months to the day as friends with benefits with nothing more to it than that.

He remembered back to Rebekah who had made a big deal of their 6-month anniversary wondering if that was even a thing and considered that it was if one cared enough for it to be a thing.

Normally by this point, his clothes had been moved aside to make way for female clothing and he was getting ready for work amid makeup and female things on his bathroom counter.

Normally by this point, he was trying to get the message across that marriage wasn’t on the table at all.

Amber had it right that he had met his match. The one woman he would have gladly shared a bathroom with had zero interest in so much as leaving a toothbrush over at his house, opting instead for a small bag to keep her toiletries in when she spent the night. He had more things at her house than she had at his. So much so that she frequently asked if she was on the receiving end of “one of those stealth move-in things” with a slight tease in her voice.

He got the candles he had brought, placed them on the table, lit both of them and set the table with plates and utensils and waited.

And realized he’d forgotten the two ingredients that made the dish—garlic and pesto. He sighed and put his head down, disappointed and uttered, “Shit.”

***

“It was horrible,” he said, curled up around her in bed.

“It was great,” she reassured him.

“It was bland.”

She issued a small laugh, then asked, “What are you trying to prove?”

He was quiet thinking that I’m worth bringing in further into your life. He settled on saying a defensive, “Nothing.”

“That was a chick nothing. What’s wrong?” she asked as she got out of his hold and turned around to face him, then sat up in bed naked, crossing her legs and watched him. 

He liked that she was so comfortable in her skin. Her body was, in her own terms, funky—wide shoulders, no discernable waist, narrow-hipped but set off by a pair of legs that hadn’t been diminished by age. Her breasts and stomach both showed the battle scars of bearing and feeding two sons.

He had many girlfriends since his divorce who were younger, prettier, and spent hours in the gym, Pilates, and yoga classes with tight, firm bodies that they immediately covered up, grabbing a robe to go as far as the six feet it took to use the bathroom which confused him. Why spend all that time to do something just to keep it covered up?

He found her confidence despite all her flaws sexier than he'd ever found in any childless 30something with a tight body.

She kissed his nose playfully and straddled him, sitting on his chest and quietly said, “Hey. Talk to me.”

“It’s been six months…” he started, looking away from her.

“It’s been fun,” she pointed out and stayed patient with him while he collected his thoughts, looking at him softly.

He examined her. “I’m confused,” he finally settled on.

To his annoyance, she laughed a little. “Why? Because I’m not stealthily moving in with you or asking you to put a ring on it?” Her eyes were still soft and took on a slightly amused look, also to his annoyance. She noted it. “What is it, Eric? We’re friends. You should be able to talk to me about this.”

“Why don’t you love me?” he blurted out and instantly regretted it. Maybe he didn’t want to know why.

“Who said I don’t?” He was quiet again and studied her. He had missed it completely. The look on her face wasn’t any different than how she had been looking at him the entire time they’d known each other, but he caught it finally. She had always loved him, he realized. She smiled softly at him. “Stop being ridiculous.”

He smiled a bit sheepishly and nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to. I thought it was pretty fucking obvious. Is that all that’s wrong? That I’ve never said I love you?”

He blushed a little and nodded.

“I love you, dork,” she said and then followed it with a kiss that said she was telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.