The Only Constant is Change Ch. 13

Author's Note:

Welcome back readers. My apologies for the long delay in posting this. My already-limited writing time has put a cramp in my production as it is. But, I was about 2/3 done with this chapter when the file got corrupted and I lost my work. So, I learned a hard lesson about backing up. This chapter completes an arc of Jeremy's life that began in Chapter 11. There is no sex in this chapter, but I'm hoping that if you made it this far, you're not in it just for cheap thrills.

About the story: This series covers the entirety of a man's life, with gaps thrown in along the way to keep it moving. I set out to see how my protagonist changes over his life as his experiences shape him. If you haven't read earlier chapters, you probably won't recognize some characters or references that are made, so I recommend you begin in chapter 1 and go from there. Most of the chapters are only 4-5 pages long on the screen, so they don't take forever to get through.

- MB

As always, any sexual activity takes place between adults.

*****

Monica greeted Jeremy as an old friend, despite the professional tenor of the meeting.

"Jeremy! It's good to see you."

Jeremy responded with a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for the opportunity," he replied.

"Jeremy, I'd like you to meet Nils Borsheim. Nils is currently serving as the manager in charge of North American Operations for Gåta Systems."

Nils extended his hand, saying, "It's a pleasure, Mr. Halperin. Thank you for meeting with us this evening."

Shaking his hand, Jeremy said, "Thank you so much for the opportunity. I'm looking forward to our discussion."

Jeremy followed Monica's cue, turning to greet the remaining member of their party, as Monica continued making introductions. "And this lovely lady is the CEO of Gatekeeper Technologies..."

He couldn't hear what she was saying over the roar of blood in his ears as his heart rate spiked. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw the woman he was here to meet.

"Catherine?" he blurted, confused.

"...Catherine Tabor," finished Monica.

She looked just as lovely as he remembered. Despite the flush in her face, she said, "Hello, Jeremy. Call me Cat."

*****

Cat was even more lovely than he remembered. In fact, she epitomized his belief that oftentimes, a woman who didn't show a lot of skin was more enticing than those that did. After all, he'd seen her both in and out of her scanty dress previously. But the bronze, satiny cowl-neck blouse very nicely accentuated her cleavage, and the brown tweed dress pants hugged her hips; knowing what was underneath, Jeremy was tempted to slide his hand down and squeeze her ass. Then he remembered that he was in a professional setting. Too bad, he thought.

"You two know each other?" asked Nils, confused. Monica, too, was looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

Jeremy was unsure how to answer, but Cat came to his rescue. "Jeremy is a friend of a friend that I met briefly last week. I didn't know that that Jeremy was our Mr. Halperin here," she said with a smile. From the twinkle in her eye, he could see that she was enjoying the dual nature of their relationship.

The answer seemed to satisfy Nils, and the group settled down to business. Jeremy sat at one end of the table, with Nils directly opposite him and Cat next to Nils; Monica settled in adjacent to Jeremy.

"So," began Nils, "Ms. White has explained the position to you, ja?" Jeremy noticed that he pronounced "White" as "Vite."

With a sideways glance, Jeremy nodded and said, "She gave me an overview, but I'd like to hear you describe it, if that's okay?"

"Ja, sure," replied Nils. Then he launched into a rather lengthy explanation of the position, the history of Gåta Systems, and how they forecast the future of the division.

Jeremy was growing more and more interested in the position. It truly sounded like something he'd excel at, and it fit in nicely with the plan he'd always had in the back of his mind. He found it a little distracting, though, when he felt a hand land on his thigh. The booth wasn't especially large, so he would have thought it incidental until it remained in place, making small rubbing motions. It didn't approach his cock, but knowing that Monica was rubbing his thigh was still distracting.

He chanced a glance in her direction, but she was doing a great job of maintaining a straight face. The only hint of any impropriety was a little twinkle in her eye. The distraction was enough that he almost missed it when Nils asked him his opinion of the position.

Clearing his throat, Jeremy replied, "It sounds like an excellent opportunity. I can say without hesitation that I'm very interested in the position."

Cat said, "I'm very glad to hear you say that, Jeremy. I can easily see you fitting into a number of positions with us." From the bemused expression on her face, the double entendre was intentional.

There was a time in Jeremy's life when he'd have shied away from responding in kind. Through the years, though, with Ava's support, he'd grown much more confident and self-assured. Today, given the events of his life recently, Jeremy was no longer content to passively observe as life passed him by. If he'd learned anything from the other members of the grief counseling group he'd begun attending, it was that life did go on despite the pain.

So, when she teed it up like that, Jeremy took a big 'ole swing. "Well, I'm confident that I can fit into any position you'd like."

Nils was taking a sip of water when he said that, and droplets flew when he laughed at Jeremy's comment. He apologized while wiping his chin with a napkin. Looking at Cat, he said, "Oh, I like him. You von't get away vit your little games, min venn."

Cat feigned indignation. "Don't you 'my friend' me if you're going to throw out slanderous accusations." Turning to Jeremy, she said, "Don't believe a word he says. I do not play games."

"Now, Cat," Monica said with a smirk. "I love you like a sister, but that's just not true."

"Et tu, Monica?" she replied, cheekily.

Jeremy waded into the fray as well. "I don't know what the big deal is. I like playing some games," he finished with a wink in Nils's direction. The smaller man beamed.

Seeing the wink, Cat playfully chastised Jeremy. "Don't you get started. It's bad enough that I get no respect from my colleagues. I can't have someone who doesn't even work for me treating me like this."

Jeremy shrugged and said, "Fair enough." After a few moments, though, he asked, "Does that mean I don't have to respect you if I come to work for you?" Though he attempted to portray it as an earnest question, he couldn't keep the grin from his face, and the group broke out into chuckles again.

The rest of the meal passed quickly. It was clear that there was a connection between Jeremy and his potential colleagues, and when the time came to leave, it felt less like the end of an interview and more like the end of a dinner among friends. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed quite so easily or felt this relaxed.

The four of them met outside. Nils and Cat had arrived together, and while waiting for the valet to retrieve their vehicle, Nils told Jeremy that he was very impressed. "Obviously, ve vill need to discuss things between ourselves, and I'll haf to pass tings along to my company, but I feel pretty confident that ve should have good news for you shortly." The men shook hands, and Cat simply waved to Jeremy as she entered the car, a smile clearly visible on her face.

Monica and Jeremy were standing side-by-side, watching as the pair drove away. As they did so, Monica said, "It must not have been that brief a meeting."

Jeremy looked at her, not understanding her reference. She looked at him and explained, "Cat said you met 'briefly' last week, but something tells me that there's more to the story."

He was uncomfortable with the direction this was going, but simply shrugged and made no comment.

"Come on, Jeremy. I've known Cat since we were sorority sisters as undergrads. To my knowledge, she's never acted like she did tonight around a guy. What, exactly, did you two get up to?"

Jeremy was saved from answering by the arrival of the valet with his vehicle. "Sorry, gotta go, Monica," he said with a grin as he moved around the car. "I'll look forward to hearing more from you soon. Call me," he finished.

She took a step towards him, calling out, "This isn't over, Jeremy. I'm going to find out what happened, I promise." The last bit was cut off as he closed the door, smiling and waving at her cheekily.

As he drove away, her smile melted somewhat. Oh yes, I'm getting to the bottom of this mystery, she thought.

*****

It ended up being more than a week before Jeremy heard anything back about the position. He'd just walked in the door after a long day's work when he received a text from Monica.

Sry 4 late notice. Good news. Dinner?

He was torn. It had been a rough day, and he was mostly looking forward to kicking back with a beer and eating some grilled steak and baked potato. After considering it further, he decided that he probably ought not to offend a potential colleague, who in this case was also a friend. So he texted her back.

U cum here. Have steak, potato, and beer. BYOB if needed. 6:30?

He sent her his address, and her reply was a clapping emoji. He checked the time and sprung into action. On went the oven to preheat, steaks came out of the fridge to warm. He treated both sides with salt and pepper, and his favorite blend of seasonings. He decided to grab a quick shower while the oven preheated, and afterwards he returned wearing a comfortable pair of blue jeans and faded flannel shirt over a white undershirt. He pricked a couple of potatoes with a fork and wrapped them in foil with some butter and parsley before placing them on the oven rack to bake.

The air temperature outside was getting pretty chilly, which might have dissuaded some people from grilling. Not Jeremy, though. He loved cooking outdoors in all kinds of weather; he just minimized his time spent outside. It did require additional time for the grill to come up to temperature, and he had to keep the flames a little higher than he otherwise would to offset the heat loss, but there was just something about grilled meat that made it all worthwhile.

He'd just cracked open his first beer when Monica arrived at his door. He kissed her cheek and welcomed her in, taking her coat and the bottle of wine she'd brought. "Have a seat," he said. "I'll bring you a glass of wine."

"Thanks," she said with a smile. Looking around, she realized that when she'd accepted his invitation, she wasn't going to his place, she was going to their place. The place he'd shared with his wife and son. Her touches were everywhere—in the warm and cozy color pallet, the overstuffed furniture and coordinated throw pillows—but she could see Jeremy's influence as well. She figured he was probably responsible for the big flat-screen and mission style furniture with the hammered bronze fittings.

"I'm going to be in and out for a little while, monitoring the grill," Jeremy said. "Feel free to relax if you'd like; if you're like me, you're probably ready to kick back for a while after a long day."

Monica smiled at his thoughtfulness. "That sounds good, Jeremy. Besides," she added with a wink, "I can snoop around that way."

He just shrugged. "Feel free. I'm a pretty simple guy, so I doubt you'd find anything interesting. I'll be right back."

As he left to tend to dinner, Monica took the opportunity to look around. On the wall behind the couch, she found a fascinating framed poster. The image showed a businessman walking through the waves on the shoreline, while in the distance were gleaming escalators headed up and down. The artist, Scott Mutter, had called the piece, "The Escalator." Monica thought it was a fantastic metaphor for life's journey. Continuing around the room, she saw a collection of photographs showing Jeremy, Ava, and a little boy who could only be Jeremy's son; he was a miniature version of Jeremy.

In one photo, she saw Jeremy and Ava at a dinner party or something. Jeremy was in the midst of telling a joke, if the half-smile on his face and the laughing faces around him were any indication. Monica was struck by the look on Ava's face, though. She was seated next to Jeremy, and while she was smiling as well, on her face were written admiration and hope and joy and pride, and half a dozen other emotions that added up to "love." You were a lucky girl, she thought to Ava. Her own marriage had started out well enough, but she wasn't sure she'd ever looked at Jerome with quite that look.

She scanned pictures that documented the life Ava and Jeremy had shared—their wedding, candid shots on vacation or with friends, the birth of their son—but then she came to the photo that brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat. It must have been taken shortly before the accident. Joshua looked to be nearly three in the picture, the first traces of the man he'd grow into appearing on his face, his eyes already expressive and his smile big and natural. Ava sat to the side of Jeremy, her legs thrown over his lap and her head resting against his chest. Her eyes were on Joshua, a big grin on her face as she tickled her son to cause his laughter. Joshua reclined against his father's stomach and chest, his seat tucked into the space between mom's legs and dad's torso. Jeremy had his arms wrapped protectively around his wife and son, his head leaning to rest on the top of Ava's. What broke Monica's heart was the look on his face. The man in the picture was at peace, all was right in his world, and he was deeply in love with his family and his life. As she viewed the picture, Monica realized that she didn't see those things in his eyes now. He smiled and laughed, sure, but his eyes lacked the spark of life he'd had the day this picture was taken.

So absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't hear Jeremy coming back until he was standing right next to her. "That picture, this one right here," he said, pointing to the picture of the three of them together, "That's the one I used to take to bed with me. I didn't change the sheets because I could still smell Ava on them, and I brought Joshua's favorite teddy bear along. I drank too much and I'd curl up on my side, staring at that picture until I thought I could try and get a couple of hours of sleep. One day, I woke up and realized that I couldn't smell her anymore. I didn't go to work that day."

While he was speaking, Monica carefully set her wine glass down and moved to hug him. Stepping up from behind, she slid her arms around his waist and lay her head against the back of his shoulder. When he went silent, she whispered to him, "I'm so sorry, Jeremy."

They stood like that for some time, she silently offering her comfort, he taking advantage of the opportunity to release just a little bit more of the pain he carried around with him. Eventually, he inhaled deeply, and while wiping his tears away, turned to face her, grinning sheepishly and offering an apology for losing control like that.

"Shhh, don't apologize," she said softly, pressing her fingers to his lips. "I can see how much you lost, just from these pictures. If you need to cry, you cry; I'll never think less of you for it." Then she hugged him tight, pressing her cheek to his chest so tightly she could hear his heartbeat. As she held him, his arms slid around her, and she suddenly became aware of how good it felt to be in his arms just then. This isn't the time, Monica, she chastised herself for even thinking thoughts like that at a time like this. She couldn't have known that Jeremy was experiencing similarly naughty feelings brought about by the softness of her breasts pressed against his body and the familiar scent of vanilla. In a surprisingly short time, Jeremy went from reliving the heartbreak of losing his family to feeling, well, "anxious."

He realized that she could probably feel what was happening, and immediately felt guilty about his response. He tried to gracefully extricate himself, apologizing for the inappropriateness of it.

Monica smiled and said, "No apology needed. It's been my experience that intense emotions can lead to unexpected physical responses. Besides," she added with a wink, "A girl likes to know she can have that effect on a man every once in a while. Does my ego good."

"Are you kidding? I'm heartbroken, not dead," he chuckled. "You should only worry if you don't get that kind of reaction from me. Apparently, it's not just a teenage hormone thing, because I'm still just as, uh, 'excited,' around you as I was back then." He sobered a little and quietly said, "Thank you for being here for me now." Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek softly. Her intake of breath as he did so, stopped him as he withdrew. Their eyes met, each set flickering to the other's lips and back. He slowly approached her and pressed his lips to hers firmly for a few seconds.

"Mm," he said with a grin. "I wish I had a few more...hours, to do that, but if I don't stop now, I'm going to burn your dinner." They reluctantly broke their embrace, and Jeremy went to collect the steaks. She met him in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, sipping her wine and watching as he set the steaks out to rest. Before long, it was time for the potatoes to come out of the oven.

Opening the fridge, Jeremy looked at her and said, "Butter? Sour Cream? I hate chives, so you're on your own there, but I think I've got some bacon bits."

"No chives? I don't kno-ow," she teased. "What kind of place is this with no chives? I'm just kidding, sour cream is fine. Do you have any shredded cheddar?"

"Good call," he said, digging into the drawer that contained his cheese and lunchmeat.

She asked if he needed any help, and he indicated that she could grab the loaf of French bread and bring it to the table. After a moment, he set a plate in front of her containing a steak and baked potato, a dollop of sour cream already melting into the flesh of the potato under a sprinkling of shredded cheddar. "I'm sorry there's no mushrooms or any sauce. I hadn't really planned on entertaining tonight."

Monica looked at him with a funny look on her face. "You can really cook, can't you?"

"Well, I'm not opening a restaurant anytime soon," he replied, "but I can hold my own in the kitchen, yeah."

"I don't mean anything by it. My ex-husband couldn't boil water. I'm not sure I've ever met a guy who was even decent in the kitchen, much less liked it."

He tore off a piece of bread and said, "My mother was adamant that until I found a woman who wanted to cook for me, I needed to be able to prepare more than noodle soup and peanut butter sandwiches. And between my dad and scouting, I learned quite a bit about cooking over fire. Things got a little more serious a few years ago when Ava and I decided to take a cooking class together. It was only a couple of months, but we got into all kinds of basics, like selecting cuts of meat, different vegetables, wine and beer pairings—it was short, but comprehensive. I found out that it was a kind of creative outlet for me, so I like to tinker around. At least, I did. Nowadays..." he trailed off, wriggling his hand sideways.

"No one to cook for, huh?" she asked, sympathetically.

He shook his head.

Monica reached over and took his hand. "It's not exactly the same, but I kind of went through that when my marriage broke up. One day you're sharing dinner, talking about how the day went, and the next...well, let's just say that I've eaten more than a few lonely take-out dinners in the last couple of years."