Calling All the Shots by Katherine Garbera

jeans,
and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that fit him just right. His hair was still
damp and tousled, stubble still covered his lower jaw and his feet were bare. He
looked comfortable and sexy.
    “Frittata,” she said. “It’s easier than an omelet for me. Is
that okay?”
    “Of course it is. My mom used to say beggars can’t be
choosers,” he said, coming closer and leaning back against the countertop right
next to her.
    She could smell the fresh scent of her own soap on his skin and
it smelled…delicious, she thought. She closed her eyes for a second and just
breathed deeper.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    “Of course, when aren’t I?”
    “The other night…you sounded like you almost cared,” he said.
“I’m trying to be careful and not let it go to my head.”
    “I bet. You can’t afford for your ego to get much bigger.”
    “Ah, there it is, the Willow I know,” he said, and she could
see the tiniest bit of disappointment in his eyes.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t like it when I’m forced to admit I
care.”
    “Wow, that’s honest. No one likes it because it leaves us
vulnerable. But we all feel it.”
    “Do we?” she asked. “That ego is pretty big if you feel like
you can speak for… Who are you speaking for? Just you and me or the entire
world?”
    He laughed. “God, woman, you definitely keep me humble.”
    She gave him a mock salute. “I try.”
    “Seriously, what changed?”
    She concentrated on getting everything into the frying pan and
ignored his question but Jack stood there like he had eternity and he’d happily
wait forever for her answer.
    “I…I need some closure with you,” she said at last.
    “You mentioned something I’d done in high school,” he said.
    “Yes,” she said. All the ingredients were together cooking.
There was nothing for her to do but wait for it to set. She started cleaning up
the kitchen.
    Jack came up behind her and put his hands over hers, taking the
dishes from her and placing them in the sink. He held her hands loosely in his
as he turned her to face him. “Tell me. I’m sorry I don’t remember anything bad
happening between us. Just you helping me with English so I’d pass.”
    She took a deep breath. What was she going to say? How could
she word this so that she didn’t reveal too much? It was like he’d said a few
moments ago—she didn’t want to be vulnerable. Not to him.
    “I have to watch the frittata or it will burn. Let’s talk over
breakfast, okay?” she asked.
    He nodded. “I noticed the wine charms unopened on the counter.
Didn’t you like them?”
    “Yes,” she said. “But work has been keeping me pretty busy.
Just haven’t had time to use them yet, but I will on Monday.”
    “What happens on Monday?” he asked, crossing his arms over his
chest.
    “Girls’ night,” she said. The frittata had set so she shifted
to the broiler to finish cooking.
    “Nichole and Gail are your girls, right?”
    “Yes. Do you remember them from high school?” she asked.
    “No. We ran in different circles,” he said. “Was that part of
the problem between us?”
    “Sort of. Let me set the table and we can eat.”
    “I’ll help,” he said. “What can I do?”
    “Want to make the coffee?” she suggested, pointing to her
Keurig machine and the mugs sitting next to it.
    “Certainly.”
    Within a few minutes she had their food on the table and was
sitting right across from him but she didn’t feel like eating and it didn’t take
a rocket scientist to realize that Jack didn’t, either. He took a sip of his
coffee and put his elbows on the table, leaning forward to take one of her
hands.
    “What’d I do back then?” he asked. “We can’t move forward until
we take care of that.”
    “Do you really want to move forward with me?” she asked.
    “Do you have to keep asking?”
    “Yes. I don’t get it, Jack. No matter how I look at you and me
we don’t make sense.”
    “That’s funny, because when I look at you, Willow, all I