THOMAS
It's been some time since I've been so sick. Will assumed that it was due to me eating leftover appetizers and pastries, but that's not completely true. I've eaten more than that on other occasions, with maybe a slight heartburn as a result. In the last days, I wasn't feeling completely fine and the food I ate was just the catalyst. Abigail and Didier have been taking care of our business while I took some time to recover and I felt grateful and at peace, leaving everything in their capable hands.
Today I'm back to my responsibilities and I feel like a new man. Partly because I stopped throwing up and because I slept as long as I could. To begin my day, I park my car close to O'Briens and hope that Mom hasn't spoke with them to forbid them from selling goods to me. I'm only functional after one of Marissa's pecan pastries.
Marissa is working the counter this morning, and I take a little time to watch her through the front window. She moves quickly as she packs sweets and breakfast items for customers, all while chatting with them and sending them their way with a big smile. In the last days, I've been thinking about her and concluded that Will is wrong, I can't be in love with her. She's just a good friend, someone I've known my whole life and nothing else. I may plan happily ever afters, but it doesn't mean that I believe in them. I have lived through enough experiences that have taught me how fragile are commitments. Will and Nicole were engaged, and she replaced him in no time. Mom is a widower and Abigail didn't even make it to her wedding after what the dick did to her. What is the purpose of hoping for a forever after when eventually things end? People judge my bachelor lifestyle and I can't understand what is so wrong about it. I enjoy life without suffering from loss or dependence. If there's anything I could complain about is not having someone to talk with when I get home. I have Rosita, who can be a great listener but can't talk back.
Marissa looks out the window and gives me a friendly wave when she sees me. My heart does a strange flip, and it unsettles me. I don't want a relationship with Marissa or anyone else. Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I enter the bakery and the display of pastries has me so enthralled that I slam into a person carrying a tray of coffees. The pain on my chest and legs from the hot liquid stings and I let out a curse mixed with a yell.
"LUKE! I need help!" Marissa shouts.
All I could do is clench my teeth and fists as I try to deal with the burns. I feel hands on my arms, guiding me to walk somewhere and I keep my eyes closed.
"Can you sit down?" Marissa asks me, and I nod.
"I got the gel here. Do you need anything else?"
"Wet some towels with water at room temperature. Can you send someone to clean the mess? Shit, that's red..." She says after opening the buttons of my shirt carefully. "Thomas, we need to get your trousers off."
Marissa smears something that cools the burned spots on my chest and I open my eyes to find myself at the back office. I stand up and take my pants off. My thighs are red and look as painful as they feel.
"Here you go," a guy gives Marissa a tray with towels. "The spill is almost gone. I'll man the counter until you are back."
"Thank you, Luke."
Marissa places the towels over my legs and the skin cools off. She grabs a wireless phone from the desk and punches a number.
"Abigail? Thomas and a customer bumped a moment ago, and he's gotten hot coffee all over his thighs and chest... I don't think he needs to go to the hospital, because we have good medicine here since we burn ourselves all the time. He will need dry clothes, also shoes... Thank you, Abi. I will see you in a bit," she hangs up the call and goes back to applying a gel on my burns. "Your sister will swing by your house to pick clothes for you. Is the gel giving you relief?"
Marissa replaces the towels from my legs, and as she spreads them around, I realize her hands are dangerously close to my manhood. That same manhood is also noticing that a beautiful woman is inches away and gets an idea of its own.
"Is that..." Marissa laughs while I cover my crotch and I feel the heat creeping up my neck.
"I'm so sorry," my voice comes out in a mumble.
"It's me, you idiot," she cups my face and kisses my lips.
My head feels dizzy and I'm not sure if I'm over my illness. At this moment, little makes sense and all I can think about is her warm soft lips against mine and how I didn't want that to end.
"Now you need to marry me," I say, and it feels as if I'm half joking.
Marissa shakes her head and smiles. "Now you are jumping ten steps ahead. We can go out on a date, though."
"A date? Yeah? Yes?"
"Did you also get hot coffee on your tongue?" She laughs. "The splashes on your chest are looking better already. This tube is almost empty. Let me get a new one to treat your legs. Think where you will take me on our date while I'm gone."
A date with Marissa was never in the plans. Besides the usual dinner and maybe a movie, I don't know where else I could take her. She's a special woman and deserves a special date, and that's not something I can think of when my skin reminds me why I'm here.
Marissa comes back with a new tube and squeezes some gel on my legs. Just like with my chest burns, I welcome the cooling and almost numbing sensation.
"When did you learn to treat burns?" The relief helps me to form a coherent question.
"Papa taught me. I used to get distracted while getting trays out of the oven and always burned myself," she stares at her hands and for the first time I see some scars on them. "Our first aid kit is always nearby for any emergency."
I hold her hand in mine and examine her work scars. "Are you serious about the date?"
"I've been waiting for ages for you to ask me and convinced myself that you were not interested. A girl has to take the initiative some times."
"Marissa, I don't want to get married," I say almost to myself. "Even if we go on a date, it isn't a promise."
"Who says a date means people will get married at the first chance?"
"Do you want to get married?"
"Are you proposing to me?" Her expression takes me by surprise and she laughs. "I'm joking! The color drained from your face! You know, Thomas, getting married is not one of my priorities. If it happens one day, it will be more meaningful for my dad, who will throw the party of the century and invite the million of family members we have. For me, a wedding ring means nothing without true love. I place more value on that than a ceremony."
"Where have you been my whole life?" I say, almost in awe.
"Behind that counter. Serving you pecan pastries for the past years. By the way, is it true that you ate everything that was left from Dennis' engagement party? Your mom came by and told Papa that we are only allowed to sell stuff to Didier or Abigail."
"It wasn't like that. I was already sick."
"Good to hear. I was afraid the pastries had gone back," she gives me a cheeky smile. "Thanks, Luke! This is for you, Thomas."
Luke places a generous cappuccino and a pastry on the desk.
"But my mom told you..."
"She spoke to Papa, not to me," she gives me a mischievous wink. "After what just happened, it's the least we can do. You've told me before that my pastries make you happy. Hopefully, this one will make you happy as well."
I've spent time with Marissa before. She's been to our house while growing up and together with her parents visited us for our summer parties. But I've never been this close to her or had a conversation that's lasted this long. Watching her now in front of me makes me feel odd, but not in a bad way. Was Will right all along?
"Do you want to go out tonight?"
"I'm available," she perches on the desk while I eat my pastry.
Abigail arrives with a change of clothes and a pair of shoes. "Unbelievable. You are always giving our servers a hard time, telling them to be careful with the guests, and you did exactly what you tell them not to do."
"You sound like Ma," I sulk. "And that's not a compliment."
"Look at your chest! Hot liquid burns can be serious. You were lucky Marissa knows what to do."
Marissa has trouble hiding a smile. Abigail is known to rant for ages, especially when Jimmy is involved. Must be the twin thing.
"And we have a meeting in half an hour. I'll see you at the office if you are sure you can walk the two blocks to the office without getting another injury."
"Fuck off and let me change clothes."
Abigail gives me an annoyed look, and Marissa follows her outside. My new trousers scratch my sensitive spots on my legs, but it isn't as bad as I thought it would be. When I open the door, Marissa waits outside. She moves closer to fix the collar of my shirt and when she's done, I cup her face and kiss her lips.
"I can also take the initiative," I say, and she smiles. "I'll pick you around seven. Can you text me your new address? I heard from Abigail that you got your own place now."
"THOMAS MORGAN!"
I startle at the voice of Papa O'Brien and duck when he charges at me with a broom. I run away and make it to the safety of my office with a racing heart and curious thoughts about my upcoming date with Marissa.