Page 7 of Fourteen Years

“Hi, yourself,” she laughed softly, returning the affection.

I ushered her into the apartment, gesturing towards the empty recliner or couch. The room already felt brighter with her in it.

She smelled like coffee and lavender soap. She perched on the couch and looked out the window at the oak tree that blocked most of the view.

“That tree is going to fall right into this apartment someday,” she said, head swiveling to look at me.

“Trust me. As a fireman, I know this.” I chuckled, sitting on the other side of the sofa. “Try telling that to my stubborn ass landlord.”

Nodding, Monica's eyes moved over me, seeming to take stock.

“So,” she began, “What did you need to talk to me about?”

I shrugged my shoulders and leaned back against the couch, trying to relax.

Monica sniffed, looking towards the kitchen.

“Is something burning?” she asked suddenly.

The coffee.

Jumping back up I ran into the kitchen to see smoke coming from the burner under the pot. I apparently needed to learn how to make coffee again. I hadn’t done it for years, since living with her. I’d only bought the new machine yesterday, just for this moment.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Ever. I’ll never live it down if the guys at the station hear about it.”

Monica was snorting on the couch.

“Since when do you make coffee anyway?” she asked.

I stalled, panicked. I didn’t want her to know I’d bought it just for her.

“I’m trying to break the energy drink habit.” I blurted out.

“Finally.” she praised, cheeks pink from laughing at my spectacle. “Those things are horrible for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The brown sludge in the pot was mocking me and I sighed, glaring down at it.

“Trevor.”

My green eyes shot up, meeting Monica’s beautiful brown ones.

“Don’t worry about the coffee. I had two lattes at brunch.” she shook her head at me.

“Right. Of course you did.” I tossed the pot into the sink and unplugged the machine, walking back over to the couch sheepishly.

“I just thought I’d ask you over to see if we could talk about things.” I began, sitting back down on my side of the sofa, stretching an arm across the back of it.

Monica’s eyes narrowed at me.

“Are you seeing someone?”

I choked.

“What?” I stuttered. That was not where I saw this conversation going.

“I just thought that may be what you wanted to talk to me about. You’ve dated off and on for years but never committed. You seemed so serious about it all. I thought you were telling me about a new woman you were bringing into Lacey’s life.”

“No.” I sat up straighter, shaking my head. “There’s no one.”

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