Rescue My Heart by Jean Joachim

headed outside.
    Rory stretched out on the sofa,
suddenly weary. Keeping a tight rein on her libido around Hack,
combined with the accident with the knife, had worn her
out.
    Her eyelids fluttered as the door
opened, But she was too tired to move. Baxter jumped up on the sofa
and curled up in the crook of her knees. As her eyes were closing,
she felt a blanket being tucked around her and a hand stroking her
hair. The last thing she heard was the click of the lock before she
was asleep.
     
    * * * *
     
    During the course of the next week,
Hack forgot his lunch often, hoping Rory had planned something
delicious and had made enough for two. He was rewarded. The cooler
days inspired her to cook chili and then black bean soup from
scratch with hot dogs.
    Hack rose early. He arrived at the
clinic by eight every morning, took care of paperwork, treated some
early morning patients, and then showed up at Rory’s by ten sharp.
He found himself whistling as he walked briskly in the chilly air
to her brownstone. His mind seesawed between the temptation of her
breasts and her cooking. His mouth watered at both
prospects.
    The apartment that had seemed so
claustrophobic at first had become cozy, unlike his rambling
two-bedroom in The Royal on Central Park West. He looked forward to
climbing the three flights of stairs and sniffing the air for the
delicious scent of her concoctions and the whiff of lilac that
always lingered.
    Since
their make-out session on the floor, they had stopped insulting
each other. Rory had continued to call Felicia names, delighting
Hack with her creativity. Is she jealous
of Felicia? Does that mean she likes me? Making out meant she liked him, though she had shown no signs
of wanting to reignite their spark.
    Their
new easiness together made Hack comfortable with Rory. Am I falling in love? Are we friends? The idea of loving Rory sent him into a tailspin.
After all, he was supposedly engaged to Felicia, although they had
nothing sexual between them.
    How
could he explain to Rory that his relationship to Felicia was
bogus? She’d be mad if she knew I’ve been
lying to her this whole time. To keep her at arm’s length? Now I
don’t want to. How do I get out of this? The convenient engagement had become a
straitjacket.
    Felicia
crept closer to him, attempting to seduce him. Why would she? I’m not her type. He
was caught in the middle, a dilemma that preyed on his mind
daily. If I could get rid of Felicia, I
could move ahead with Rory. But what about Mom? Would she go
ballistic?
    He had plenty of questions, but no
answers. In situations like this, he sometimes consulted his
brothers, but both were out of town. So, he made a date to have a
drink after work with his father at The Yale Club.
    The
knowledge that he’d be getting sage advice relieved his mind. He
continued to whistle as he walked up the front steps and pressed
the buzzer for Rory’s apartment. As he climbed, strains of a
familiar tune met his ears. Vivaldi’s Four
Seasons. Hmm, which season is this? Fall!
    He kept going, humming
along with the violins that grew louder as he ascended, sniffing
the aroma of something delicious. His senses were bombarded. His
skin prickled, knowing he’d be seeing her, maybe even touching her,
perhaps a shoulder squeeze, or pushing her hair back from her face,
if he was lucky.
    When she
pulled the door open, the music got much louder. She likes classical music, too. Felicia only
likes rock. He stepped inside. “Vivaldi.
Fall.”
    “ Very good! Now the
scent?”
    He shook his head. “Nothing I’ve ever
smelled before, but it smells great.”
    “ It’s a new veggie
casserole. I threw in some sausage, too.”
    “ Can’t wait to taste it.”
Hack took off his jacket and tossed it on the sofa, waking Baxter,
who barked at him. He plopped down next to the pug and scratched
him behind the ears. The dog settled down immediately, his eyelids
lingering at half-mast. If he’d been a cat, he would have been
purring.