by Lucy Lambert
There was a third time, too. When he told me that we weren’t going to spend much time sleeping in that bed, I hadn’t quite believed him.
But I think we only managed to steal three or four hours’ worth of shuteye. Which I desperately needed.
He touched a button on the nightstand and a thicker set of curtains glided almost soundlessly over the first set, blocking out nearly all the light.
Just before sleep took me, I thought that I should set an alarm. However, I didn’t know where my phone was. And Neil held me against the solid warmth of his body. A position I didn’t want to leave or disturb.
Just sleep in. You’re already in Manhattan so it won’t take as long to get to work.
I hated that. Hated how even then work could intrude into my life and my thoughts.
Neil kissed the nape and my neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end.
But isn’t this the exact reason why you didn’t want to take up with him in the first place? Because it interferes with The Plan?
Plan’s change, I thought back.
Then I let sleep take me.
My final thought before unconsciousness descended over me was that I was going to have to wear the same clothes into work twice in a row.
WHEN I WOKE UP I FOUND myself alone in Neil’s expansive bed.
I ached everywhere, inside and out. Then all the memories of the previous night rushed back into my mind and I smiled.
I sat up and realized that I was naked. My second realization was that my clothes were nowhere to be found.
The first nervous thread of panic wound itself into the lining of my stomach.
Then I saw my phone on the nightstand. I snatched it up, more nerves building inside me. I pulled myself up, leaning back against the headboard. I had a waking nightmare, thinking I would push the home button and find it was already 1:00 in the afternoon or something.
It was hardly past seven in the morning.
Then I saw the housecoat draped across the foot of my bed. I swung my bare feet out and stood up, bracing myself for the chill of the floor against my skin.
But the floor was warm. I held the robe up. It was thick, soft cotton with an integrated belt. This belt I tightened around my waist when I put the robe on.
I took another hopeful look around the room, wondering if perhaps my (probably quite wrinkly) clothes had made their appearance.
They hadn’t.
Then I smelled the unmistakeable aroma of bacon. A moment later, as I walked towards the bedroom door, I heard the sound of said bacon crackling in a skillet.
Oh my God, he’s cooking me breakfast.
When was the last time that happened? The only other men who’d cooked me breakfast in recent memory were the teenage line cooks at McDonalds who made me my McGriddle on the occasional morning when I indulged in such excessive and delicious calories.
I grasped the door handle, started turning it. Then another nightmare thought popped into my head.
I must look terrible!
Funny hair. Splotchy skin. The minimal makeup I’d put on for work the day before a complete disaster after a night of my cheek pushing into a pillow.
“I need a mirror,” I muttered to myself. I knew that I couldn’t let him see me the way I imagined I looked.
A guy like Neil was probably used to being around perfect women. The type who bounced out of bed looking like they were born with a perfect complexion.
It always took me a good hour in front of the bathroom mirror to achieve a look like that. I didn’t think I had an hour, but some time was better than none at all.
Not that I had a makeup kit on me. But I figured with a few wads of Kleenex and tap water I could get rid of the worst of the smudges and smears.
And just as I thought, there was an ensuite bathroom. I started towards it just as the door behind me swung in.
“You found the robe,” Neil said.
Then, as though last night hadn’t happened, a full body blush came over me.
“I did. Where are my clothes?” I said. I whirled around to face him, pretending that my blush was out of anger and indignation.
From the way he smiled, I knew it didn’t work. That just made the blush worse.
“Don’t worry about them. Breakfast is ready,” Neil said.
He also wore a white cotton robe, belted at the middle. And he looked perfect. Absolutely perfect, his hair tousled and tossed but not bedhead-y. Not a touch of bleariness or bagginess to his eyes.
“You look great, by the way,” Neil said.
Are you psychic? I thought at him.
He put his hands on my hips and pulled me against him for a kiss. I tasted coffee.
“Is there coffee?” I said with the desperate hope of the caffeine freak in my voice.
“Fresh ground,” he replied.
One of those hulking football defensemen couldn’t have stopped me. I followed my nose to the kitchen. Followed the aromas of sizzling, crackling bacon and fresh-brewed coffee.
What I found was an expansive kitchen with a small, circular dinette set placed in one corner. A white tablecloth draped it. A small, crystal vase contained a single, long-stemmed daisy.
A covered platter, two place settings, a decanter of orange juice and a pot of coffee also sat on said table.
I hardly noticed the professional level stainless steel stove, the enormous pantry, the fridge built into the wall. The smooth, warm tiled floor. Or the way the sun streamed in through what I figured was the living room.
I poured the coffee first, right after sitting. Just the smell of it started waking me up when it hit my brain.
Neil came and sat across from me. He sipped at his own coffee. Gradually, I became aware that he was watching me. I also became aware that I’d already inhaled half the pot of coffee and had already polished off two fired eggs and half a dozen strips of incredibly crisp and tasty bacon.
Not only am I disheveled from sleep, I’m also a total pig!
“I’m... I’m not usually like this,” I said, “I’m usually not this comfortable around someone so soon. And I’m never this much of a pig. Promise.”
Neil smiled. He took another sip from his coffee and set it down. “You’re incredible.”
“...Incredibly bad?” I hazarded.
“Just incredible,” he said.
I leaned into it, “What can I say? I just wake up this way. What about you? How long have you been up?”
Neil shrugged, “A bit more than an hour. I’ve always been an early riser.”
“So, do you care to solve the curious case of the missing clothes? I can’t exactly go to work like this.” I tugged at the robe.
“When I got up I sent them out for a rush cleaning. Don’t worry: they’ll be back in time for work.”
“Oh,” was all that I could manage.
I refilled my coffee. Was that the fourth refill or the fifth? I couldn’t remember. I sat back in my chair, cradling the mug so that it warmed my hands.
Not only did all my clothes come back cleaned and pressed, but Neil also showed me to the guest bathroom which came equipped with a basic but serviceable makeup kit.
As I took out a fresh cotton pad and wetted it with some makeup remover, I wondered just how many women Neil had over to his place.
He was clearly well off. And good looking, and confident, and good in bed. He could probably have his choice of whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
I tried taking some comfort in that. If he was just in this for some good and casual times, that was good, wasn’t it? No commitments, no relationship to worry about.
I looked myself in the mirror. So why me? And also, why did I find myself disappointed at the thought of just being another warm body in his bed?
I don’t want anything more than that. Do I?
THAT FRIDAY NIGHT I made some more time after work to get together with the girls. Sharon, Lindsay, Suzy, and myself all got together at Suzy’s place.
It was a NBN. No Boyfriends N
ight. Prior to this, all such nights out or in with the girls had been NBNs for me.
But now? I wasn’t so certain anymore. Is he my boyfriend? I found myself wanting to answer that question in the affirmative. Even though thinking that way tied knots in my stomach.
She had that same tasty Riesling as before, and a glass of that for each of us loosened things up.
“In Vino Veritas!” Lindsay said, holding up her glass. There was a crimson smudge of lipstick on the rim. She was a petite and pretty strawberry blonde. I’d always wished for hair that color, instead of the auburn genetics gave me.
We all held up our glasses as well.
Suzy, Lindsay, and Sharon all sat on Suzy’s black Ikea couch. I sat on an overstuffed footstool on the other side of the coffee table.
I took my phone from the table and checked it again. Since Wednesday, Neil kept texting me. Some of the messages were sweet. Some strayed into the racy side of things.
I’d never really been one for that sort of thing. But when Neil sent me a text telling me the next thing he wanted to do to my body it got my heart pumping.
And I didn’t want one of those messages to come in for all my friends to see.
“So what’s new with everyone?” Sharon asked. She held the stem of her wineglass in both hands. Her hair was glossy black, framing a long and pretty face.
“Well,” Suzy said, sneaking a glance my way, “I think that we can all agree that Rachel has the biggest news.”
I shot Suzy a look that said. What are you doing?!
Sharon and Lindsay both looked at me expectantly.
“Oh?” Sharon said, “Do tell.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, “Just work. Lots and lots of work.”
Which was the truth. I’d felt so guilty about my night in with Neil that I stayed in the office until almost 10 on Thursday night. I’d also spent the whole day watching my office phone nervously, a dreadful certainty hanging over me that Mr. Diehl’s secretary would ring me up at any moment so that he could chastise me some more.
The call never came, thankfully.
In fact, I was even at that very moment trying to figure out how I could get the next analytics report to Mr. Diehl, write a few clever tweets for the company Twitter, and still find time to see Neil that weekend.
Not much success on that front.
“It’s not nothing,” Suzy said. She got up from the couch, her wine almost sloshing over the rim of her glass.
She came around the table and threw and arm over my shoulder. She smelled like lavender. Her favorite scent.
“Rachel has a man!” Suzy announced.
Sharon and Lindsay set their glasses down on the coffee table so that they could applaud.
I drained my own glass and set it down by theirs, heat burning in my cheeks. “It’s not like that,” I said.
“So then tell us what it’s like,” Lindsay put in.
They already knew some of the basics. Mostly that Neil and I met at the Olive Garden speed dating.
Sharon and Lindsay both clapped their hands over their chests when I related how it turned out I wrote down the wrong table number, and that Neil and I ended up literally bumping into each other on the street.
“It was meant to be!” Lindsay said.
“That is adorable!” Sharon added.
Suzy knew more, of course, because I talked with her the most of any of my small group of friends.
Then the wine kicked in, wrapping my mind in its warm and fuzzy hug. Everything spilled out. Stuff I hadn’t even really consciously thought of.
“I can’t stop thinking about him. We’ve only gone out a couple of times but I want to spend every waking moment with him. I keep checking my phone to see if he’s texted me again. Except I need to do more at work because my boss doesn’t think I’m good at my job and I need to prove him wrong. Oh my God what do I even do?”
The verbal diarrhea didn’t end there. I went on about how he texted me nice things at work all the time, how he asked me to let him know that I got home safe (to which Suzy, Sharon and Lindsay all shared an aww). And I even told them about how he made me breakfast and got my clothes cleaned.
“So you’ve slept together?” Lindsay said.
“How many times?” Sharon added.
“Tell us everything,” Suzy said.
That heat blossomed in my cheeks again, and I stared longingly at my wine glass, wishing it was brimming with more of that tasty Riesling. Anything to give me a break from their anticipatory stares.
“Well... We’ve only been out twice...” I said, hoping that my cute and innocent routine would work on them.
It didn’t.
“So how many times?” Sharon pressed again.
“Once that first night,” I said. I grinned, unable to help myself at the memory of it.
I wished then I was with Neil instead of the girls.
“Rachel!” Lindsay said in mock shock, “I never thought of you as the type of girl to give it up on the first date!”
Suzy, who I hadn’t told about the second date yet, clued in faster than the other two. I wished I was better at lying about or hiding things.
“And the second? How many times?” Suzy said.
I needed more wine. I didn’t care anymore. I grabbed Suzy’s glass, still half full, and drained it in one swallow.
While I did that, I held up three fingers.
“Three? Three times in one night? You’re a machine!” Lindsay said, “A dirty, dirty sex machine!”
They fell over themselves laughing.
I put Suzy’s glass down and took a breath. “I know. It’s all so crazy. It feels like I’m going to wake up at any second all sweaty with the sheets tangled around me. But every time I pinch myself I realize that I’m already awake. I keep thinking that it, that Neil I mean, he’s too good to be true.”
I managed to hold back a few of the juicier details. Like how we’d used Neil’s black silk tie for things it was never intended to do.
I didn’t want to give them too much ammunition to use against me. Even though I found myself enjoying their ribbing.
It was their turn to fall over themselves. Verbally, this time. They told me how I worked too hard and too much, and that Neil was exactly what and who I needed.
That I was guilting myself, that I deserved to be happy.
That they wished their boyfriends could go three times in one night.
“Hell, three times in one week,” Suzy said. And we all laughed again. That was why I loved those girls. They made me laugh, helped me get out of my head.
The last couple nights I’d spent with all the girls, Suzy liked to complain about her current beau. A guy named Devin who managed a Starbucks just down the street from the Suzy’s own job on Fifth.
“So what’s he look like? Have any pictures? Friended him online?” Lindsay said.
They all quieted and leaned forward expectantly, their wine sitting forgotten on the coffee table.
“No...” I started. Then I remembered the trivia night and that waitress (Cindy?) who took a couple pictures with my phone, “Yes, actually!”
I grabbed my phone and opened up the photo album. The two pictures the waitress took came up right away on the roll. I looked them over and picked the second. I didn’t look so goofy in that one.
Then I turned the phone on its side and let them look. I intended to hang onto it, but Sharon snatched it away.
They huddled around her.
“He is hot!” Lindsay said.
“This is fake, isn’t it?” Sharon teased, “You found a super-hot guy at a bar and convinced him to take a picture with you.”
Suzy didn’t say anything, but I didn’t pay her much mind. I was too busy basking in the jealous glow coming off Sharon and Lindsay.
Lindsay actually stood up and bowed to me a couple of times, “Tell me your secrets, O Great and Sexy One.”
“I really don’t know,” I said, “I keep waiting for that glass shattering moment. You kno
w, the one where he reveals he’s racist. Or Republican. But so far nothing.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Suzy said.
That rubbed hard against the grain. The remaining three of us stopped and looked at her.
“What the hell, Suze?” Lindsay said.
Sharon still had my phone. She thrust it towards Suzy. “Yeah. Just look. Even in this picture you can tell they’re crazy about each other!”
Suzy glanced at the phone, then back to me. She shrugged. “I dunno, guys. I think maybe Rach’s right to be worried. I don’t know what it is, something just feels off about this guy.”
Lindsay clapped a hand on Suzy’s thigh, “The only thing you find off about him is that Rachel found him first! Come on, Suze, I know your family’s Irish, but green’s not a good color on you.”
“I’m not jealous! I’m not,” Suzy said, “I just don’t want to see Rachel get hurt. And there’s something about this guy. Look, Rachel can feel it too. That’s why she has those doubts.”
Sharon leaned over the table to hand me back my phone. I stole a glance at the picture and then locked it.
“No,” Sharon said, “She has those doubts because she’s convinced herself that work’s her whole life. And that she can’t let anything get in the way of that. Not even Mr. Perfect Ten here.”
“’She’ is right here, guys,” I said. I hated when people talked about me right in front of me like I wasn’t even there. It seemed like cold and critical analysis, and I got enough of that at work from Mr. Diehl.
“Sorry,” Sharon said.
Suzy looked at me. Her face looked drawn and taut. “Yeah, sorry. Just be careful, I don’t want you getting hurt. No guy is worth that. Remember your last breakup?”
I did. Not that I wanted to. I think I ran the Rexall down the street out of every box of Kleenex that they had.
Tension started filling the room like static electricity.
“Does he seem familiar to anyone else?” Lindsay said.
“Yeah,” Sharon added quickly, “I feel like I’ve seen his face somewhere before.”
“What does he do?” Suzy said, looking at me. They all looked at me.
I shifted under their combined glare. “He, uh, he works at a firm downtown. On Madison. I’m not sure which one. He’s some sort of executive. Pretty high up, too. His place is absolutely crazy. On the Upper West Side.”