Caring Christopher

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#22 First kiss

Abigail

For the first time in a long time, I’m going to leave the house without the kids, without Chris, and not to run an errand or anything. I’m about to get picked up for my date, and I’m just about done curling my hair and applying the last bit of make-up to my eyelids when the doorbell sounds.

“Can I open?” I hear Davy yell. “I want to open the door!”

“Sure,” Chris’ kind voice sounds in response. “Go ahead, Davy.”

I hurry to check my appearance in the mirror, not wanting this guy I don’t even know to get overwhelmed by two kids and a grown man opening the door when he’s expecting a girl his own age to appear. Thank God Jagger isn’t home yet, or poor Michel would have a heart-attack.

I’ve got a black dress on that hugs my curves in all the right places, and my spanks underneath are doing a pretty good job smoothing out my belly rolls – let’s face it, they’re there, and while I would love to be skinnier, I don’t care enough to diet. I’ve got wide hips, big boobs and rolls. That’s just the way it is. Michel will have to take it or leave it. But yeah… I do wear spanks, just to look a little les… flabby.

Satisfied that I look as good as I can, I hurry downstairs, where Christopher, Davy, Yoah and a guy I’ve never seen before that must be Michel all look up at me. My eyes rest on Chris first, who takes me in like he’s never seen me before. His eyes are wide and there’s a sort of mesmerized look in them. When our gazes lock, he smiles. “Beautiful,” he mouths, not making a sound. I smile as I take the last step down.

It’s not until Michel speaks up that I realize I should have been looking at him instead of Chris. “You look hot,” he says, giving me a cheeky grin. “Nice legs.”

“Thanks.” I take a better look at him, and he’s certainly good-looking. Tall, dark, and handsome. His teeth are exceptionally white, glimmering in the hallway light, and he’s got scruff on his face that makes him look a little rugged. “You look good too.” And he does, in his fitted jeans and blue dress shirt, but honestly… I prefer Chris in his sweatpants and shirt with stains from lunch on it, when Davy spilled juice all over him. I prefer his soft blonde curls over Michel’s short haircut, and his light blue eyes over Michel’s dark brown ones.

Stop comparing them, I tell myself sternly. Only one them is going on a date with you. Only one of them is age appropriate. Only one of them is even interested.

I have to admit though… I wish it was Michel staying with the kids tonight and Chris going on this date with me.

“Are you Abby’s boyfriend?” Yoah asks Michel, his arms crossed over his chest. He steps forward, blocking me from reaching Michel. It’s cute, but also a little concerning that he seems to think it’s his job to be the man of the house. I get that he used to be his brother’s protector, but he doesn’t need to be mine.

“Chris is Abby’s boyfriend,” Davy says with a frown.

Christopher laughs, but it doesn’t sound joyous. “No, I’m not her boyfriend, Davy.”

“But Ginny from school says that mommies and daddies, and boyfriends and girlfriends sleep in the same bed, and Chris and Abby sleep in the same bed too, so he’s her boyfriend,” he states with a confident expression on his face.

“We don’t sleep in the same bed,” I say quickly, not wanting Michel to think that.

“Yes, you do,” Davy says angrily. “I was there!”

“Erm… okay, I think it’s time to leave,” I say, sidestepping Yoah and taking Michel’s outstretched hand. “Bye guys.”

Michel holds his hand out for Chris to shake, giving him a wicked grin. “I’ll have her home by midnight, sir,” he says with a wink.

Christopher doesn’t seem to find that funny. “Take care of our girl,” he says, one hand on Davy’s shoulder and the other on Yoah’s.

“Yeah, okay, we’re leaving now.” I push Michel out the open front door and wave goodbye to the two boys and Chris looking at us from the hallway.

“So… I take it the blond dude isn’t your dad?” Michel asks as he holds open the door of his black Volvo.

I let out a strangled laugh. “No, he’s definitely not my dad. He’s my boss.”

Michel closes my car door and walks around to the driver’s seat, sliding behind the wheel. “I made reservations at this fancy Italian place one town over,” he tells me. “And I thought we could catch a movie after.”

“Sounds good,” I agree with a little smile.

“So…” he says as he pulls away from the house. “You live with your boss and his two kids? And you sleep in his bed?” He gives me a searching glance.

“No!” Oh God, I’m coming across as a wacko. “I’m a live-in nanny, and I take care of Christopher’s foster kids when he’s not home. Their father is in jail and their mother is dying of cancer, and we took her in recently. Things got a little scary for the kids one night, so we all slept in the same bed. It wasn’t like it was just me and Chris.” I pause and glance at Michel to gauge his reaction. He seems to be alright with my answer, not finding it weird at all. “Didn’t Shaughna or Aston or someone tell you what I do for a living, my situation…?”

Michel shrugs. “Shaughna showed me a picture of you, told me you’re a friend of a friend and that you’re single, spunky and a lot of fun.” He chuckles. “And she said you’ve got great boobs. She knows I like big knockers.”

I can’t help but laugh along, finding his honesty and forwardness refreshing. “You agreed to a blind date based on the information that I’m a single girl with big boobs?”

He shrugs. “So far, so good. You do have nice tits.”

“Thanks.” I look down at my chest and I have to agree the girls look good in the dress. Wearing a push-bra helps too.

“How did your friends sell me to you?” Michel asks curiously.

“Brittany showed me a picture of you, and said you’re a great chef with a big dick.”

Michel almost chokes on his laughter. “Well, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. All month, really. Just so you know… she wasn’t exaggerating.”

“And just so you know, I don’t care about the size of your junk,” I shoot back, enjoying the banter. “It’s what you do with it that counts in my book.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to experience that I know exactly how to use it.” He winks at me before turning his attention back on the road. “You’re a nanny, huh? What’s that like?”

We chat about my job and his during the drive to the restaurant. He’s funny and flirty, but our conversation doesn’t really turn into more than fun banter. The restaurant he picked is way fancier than what I’m used to, and he knows the chef and most of the staff, chatting to them without introducing me. I feel a little annoyed just sitting there at our table while he laughs with the waiters. Chris would never do that. When his friends stop by or I run into his staff when I take the kids to have lunch with him at the hospital when he’s working on the weekend, he always makes me feel included.

“What are you in the mood for?” Michel asks when we open our menus. “I come here quite often, so I could just order for you if you want?”

“Order for me?” I repeat, appalled. “You don’t even know what I like.”

“No, but I know what’s good here,” he says confidently, reaching across the table to shut my menu and take my hand in his. “I’m a chef. Trust me, I know good food. There are two things in life I know everything about: food and women.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Then I guess I’m the exception, because this woman doesn’t like it when men think they know better.”

“Come on,” he teases, enjoying my stubbornness. “I’m paying, so allow me to order us some fancy dishes to share. I promise you will love them.”

“Fine,” I huff, grabbing my water to take a sip. “Have it your way. If the food sucks, I’ll know your comment about knowing women is bullshit too.”

“Oh, it’s not.” He smirks and I have to admit he’s sexy, looking all confident like that. This is exactly the type of guy I usually go for. My type to a T. Cocky, sexy guys with great banter. And maybe that’s exactly why I’m not too thrilled to be here with him right now. My previous relationships were all pretty shitty, so why would this guy be any different? In my experience, most men are assholes. The one exception to that rule being Christopher, of course. Chris is different in every single way that matters.

The food is good – I guess Michel does know a thing or two about it after all, being a chef and all – and conversation keeps flowing, although we argue more than we agree, about pretty much every single topic that matters. When I order mayonnaise and ketchup with my shrimp, he cringes, and he doesn’t smile like Chris would, who always seems to think my eating habits are more cute than they are disgusting.

“You really like your boss, don’t you?” Michel asks during dessert when I’m halfway through a story about the way Chris does voices for all the characters in Davy’s favorite book.

“Yes,” I say, smiling. “I really like Chris.”

“Hmm.” Michel searches my expression. “I get the feeling he’s not just your boss. Are you sure you’re not sleeping with him?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh right, because that’s something I’d forget about. Now that you mention it, yeah, he did stick his dick in my cunt.”

Michel grins. “You’re spunky. I like you. But honestly, Abby… I think we should call it quits after desert. Skip the movie. We both know we’re not going to end up in bed together, and honestly, I think you’re totally into your boss and I only agreed to this date to get over my ex, and no offence, but you’re not doing it for me.”

It takes me a moment to recover from that statement. He’s right, of course. I’m attracted to Christopher and I’ve been comparing him and Michel all night long. Chris wins every single time. Michel is nice and fun to chat to, but that’s all he is.

“Yeah,” I sigh, taking a bite of my cheesecake. “Do you want me to pay for my own food since you’re not getting lucky?”

He shakes his head. “No way, I had a lot of fun tonight. And not to sound mean or anything, but chatting to you made me realize how much I still miss my ex, and that’s actually a good thing. I think I needed to recognize that. I think I’m gonna go see her after I drop you off at your place. Who knows, maybe we will get lucky at the end of this date, just not with each other.”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe you will, but I won’t.”

“No guy in his right mind is going to say no to you,” Michel assures me. “If it wasn’t so obvious that we’d both regret sleeping with each other, I’d totally try to get in your pants tonight. Or well, in that tight sexy dress you shimmied into before I came over. I had a really good time with you, Abby. I’d like to see you again, for coffee or something.”

“Sure,” I agree, already knowing neither of us will actually take the effort to turn this one blind date into a friendship. We like each other, but not enough to become friends. All I want right now is to go home to Christopher and the kids. It was nice getting out though, reminding myself that there are nice people out there, even if they’re not my ideal match or anything.

Michel and I talk about his ex when we drive back to town, and we hug when he drops me off. This was the best date with someone I’m not even remotely interested in ever. I let myself in and walk into the living room, where I find Chris on the couch, his hair damp from the shower, wearing nothing but sweatpants. He’s alone, since it’s past the kids’ bedtime already and Jagger usually spends the evening upstairs with his mother or typing away on his phone. He’s slumped down on the couch with a beer, but he sits up with wide eyes when he sees me back so early.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back until late, or maybe even this morning,” he says, sounding surprised and a little… relieved? Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?

“We cut the date short when we realized we’re not even remotely interested in each other,” I say honestly, sitting down next to him and taking off my heels. “He’s getting back with his ex, and I’m…” I glance at Chris, trying to decide what to do. I’m not one to wait around until guys make the first move, but I’m not sure if I should ever try anything with Chris. He’s my boss, and my friend, and I don’t want to make things awkward. I’m too messed-up to be in a relationship with anyone so good, so perfect, kind, wise and mature. He’s probably not even the tiniest bit interested in me.

“You’re what?” Chris asks, putting his beer on the coffee table and leaning toward me ever so slightly. Something in his eyes makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss each other. I sure am.

“I think I’m going to change into some pajamas and come back down to watch a show with you or something, if you’re up for it. Maybe Grey’s Anatomy again? You can bitch to me about how inaccurate it is.” So much for being brave. I don’t want to risk him turning me down and losing his respect for me. And even if he kissed me back… Things like these don’t work out. My life doesn’t give me any breaks. I’m just kidding myself thinking Chris and I could be something real.

“Abby…” Chris says softly when I get up. “Can I just say… You look absolutely stunning tonight. Then again, you always do. And… I’m kind of glad your date got cut short. I don’t like the thought of you with Michel.” He hesitates. “Or with anyone, really.”

My heart is soaring. “Really?” Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“Get changed,” he says, looking away from me with a sigh. “I’ll be waiting for you with wine and that horrible hospital show you like.”

“Okay,” I reply, a little disappointed that he’s not going to elaborate on not wanting to see me with another man. Surely I’m not stupid for assuming that means he wants me all to himself… right? Am I being a complete idiot? Is this nothing but wishful thinking. Or… or am I right? Does he feel the same way I do?

“Fuck this,” I mumble, deciding to just be brave. Every few months I get my ass handed to me by life anyway, and it’s only a matter of time before this peaceful and happy time in my life is over, so I might as well enjoy the ride. I move back to the couch, looking down at Chris.

“What?” he asks, looking unsure of himself. He’s so fucking adorable, all cute and innocent. I love it when he looks at me like he has no idea what’s going on in my mind and there is nothing he wants more than to find out. No one has ever given me the kind of attention he gives me every single day since we met.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” I say honestly. “But I’m not sure if you want that too or it’s all in my head.”

He inhales sharply. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Then get over here.” He grabs my waist and pulls me on top of him, my dress riding up as I straddle him. His lips find mine, and I moan the moment we start kissing, pushing myself against him. He feels so warm against me, and it just feels so right to touch him like this.

Why the fuck did we wait more than two months to do this?

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