by Katy Regnery
“Okay. Sounds good.” I pause, then ask, “Air travel?”
“I wouldn’t recommend anything longer than a few hours, but yes, you can fly. Be warned, however, your foot will swell, and it could delay your healing process.”
“So weekly flights—”
“Would be a stupid choice for a smart woman to make,” he says, giving me a look. “Listen, I’m prescribing some physical therapy too, but I’m not certain you’ll be staying in Fairbanks. Should I write it out generically? So you can share it with your physician in Boston?”
“No, actually,” I say for the first time out loud. “I’ll be staying in Fairbanks on a permanent basis moving forward. Please suggest a local rehab center.”
There’s a knock on the exam room door, and a nurse sticks her head in the room.
“Dr. Knotts?”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Nosaka is on the phone again. Do you two minutes?”
He looks at me, and I nod. “Go ahead. I can wait.”
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a second.”
The door closes behind Dr. Knotts, and I say it again, this time in a whisper, like I’m practicing to say it to Trevor tonight.
“I’ve decided to sell my house in Boston. I want to live here with you. Permanently.” Hmm. No. Not quite right. “I want to live here with you...indefinitely.” Yes. Better. Use the same word he used.
I bite my lower lip. Am I being too presumptuous?
I rethink the conversation we had. He said that my having a Seattle office would make it easier for me to “stay,” and then he further clarified his position by saying he wanted us to “figure out a way to stay together.”
Hmm. He didn’t actually ask me to move in with him.
Am I assuming too much here?
Is it possible he’s suggesting that I get a place in Fairbanks and we continue to move forward in our relationship in a more conventional fashion? Did he mean “stay” in his house or “stay” in Fairbanks?
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” I mutter. “The only way to know is to talk about it.”
But he loves me, I tell myself. Doesn’t that elevate his invitation to the next level? To the level of cohabitation? Or not?
“Damn it,” I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest. Do other women go through these types of conversations with themselves? Because I don’t like it very much at all.
There’s a crisp knock at the exam room door, and Dr. Knotts reenters the small room. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. He’s a man. An older man, but still a man. And we have the added benefit of doctor-patient confidentiality. “Dr. Knotts, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“If you told a woman with whom you were in a sexual relationship that you wanted to ‘stay together indefinitely,’ what would that mean?”
He blinks at me. I don’t think he was expecting this. “I’m really more of a bone doctor—”
“Yes, I know. But I’d still like your opinion,” I tell him. “Oh! And in this specific scenario, the man has told the woman, at least once a day for a month or so, that he is ‘in love’ with her or that he loves her. That might be an important detail for your decision-making.”
“My decision-making?”
“About the meaning of ‘stay together indefinitely.’”
I look at him expectantly, but he stares back at me saying nothing. Are we in a standoff?
“Doctor? A little help, please?”
He clears his throat, his cheeks coloring a touch.
“Okay. Well...I think...if I was in an intimate relationship with a woman, and I loved her, the words ‘stay together indefinitely’ wouldn’t need much further clarification.”
“Ah,” I say. “But they do. Does it mean he wants me to stay here in Fairbanks, but in my own dwelling? Or is it an invitation to cohabit? Or, perhaps, it’s meant to say that I can still live bicoastally, but when we have sex it’s only with each other? There’s a real gamut to the meaning, as you can see.”
He purses his lips together. “Ms. Findley, don’t you think these questions would be better directed to...him?”
“Of course,” I say. “But I’m not very experienced with men...perhaps a more, you know, experienced woman would have already understood his meaning.”
Dr. Knotts grins at me. “I doubt it. Men and women have, historically, spoken different languages. Mars. Venus. You know.”
Actually, I don’t, but astronomy feels off-topic.
“So you can’t shed any light...? On the...whole stay indefinitely thing?”
“If I can be frank,” he says, “I think you might be focusing on the wrong part of the conversation.”
“How so?”
“I’ve been married for thirty-seven years, Ms. Findley, and I still love my wife. I love her. And that means that I’d do anything for her. Whatever it takes to make her happy and keep her happy.” He smiles at me. “If this man truly loves you—and from what you’ve told me, the way he cared for you during your convalescence, you have little reason to doubt it—perhaps the answer to what stay indefinitely means, actually depends more on your interpretation than his.”
“You’re saying that he wants what I want?”
“I’m saying that if I was the man in a similar scenario with my wife...yes. Whatever staying indefinitely meant to her—whatever she wanted from me—is what I would cheerfully offer her.”
“I want to stay in Fairbanks. With him,” I say. “I want his home to be my home.”
“Then I’m pretty sure,” Dr. Knotts says, handing me a printed sheet with my instructions for physical therapy, “you just need to let him know.”
***
Trevor
When I get to the Chalet Blanche at six o’clock, I’m relieved that the desk clerk isn’t the same young woman who witnessed my fight with Faye at the end of December. An older gentleman checks me in, confirming that a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal Brut champagne is already in the room, chilling in a silver ice bucket, and that two steak dinners will be delivered to our room at 8:30 p.m. Aside from a phone call to alert me when Faye arrives, I make it clear that I want no additional interruptions, for any reason, during our stay. After the desk clerk nods in agreement, I take my room key and head down the white corridor off the main lobby.
Modern and elegant, our room has light-colored hardwood floors and white walls, decorated with tastefully framed, abstract black-and-white photography. A picture window takes up one whole side of the room, giving an unobstructed view of the mountains, and I say a quick prayer for the northern lights to dazzle us tonight. The bed in the center of the room is king-sized and plush, covered with a fluffy white duvet, and the bottle of champagne sits, as promised, on a bureau that shares the same light-wood tone as the floor.
Beside the wine, there is a note from the hotel wishing us a happy Valentine’s Day, two champagne flutes, and a bud vase with a single red rose. Nice. I approve.
Opening my suitcase, I take out a dozen neatly packed votive holders and candles, placing them around the room. I had a local florist fill a gallon Ziploc bag full of red rose petals for me, and I scatter them on the floor and bed. Satisfied that the room is suitably romantic, I place a change of clothes and my overnight bag in a bureau drawer, then hide the suitcase in the closet.
Standing at the window, with a million stars overhead, I reflect on the ways my life has changed over the last eight weeks.
I was a bitter, angry man when Faye Findley walked into the Golden Buddha on Christmas Eve. So consumed by my brother’s betrayal and my broken engagement, I couldn’t see a future ahead. I had placed an ad for anonymous sex because the idea of ever loving another woman was so frightening to me.
And then I met Faye.
And she changed my whole world.
Her hope and wonder were the perfect ballast to my bitter weariness.
Her devotion to her business made my
devotion to mine seem like a strength in my character, not a flaw.
Her gentle advice about reconnecting with her own sibling, about cherishing those family members you have in your life, made me rethink my relationships with Marlena and Cez. I can see now that Marlena and I were not well suited, and I’m almost in a place to forgive Cez, though true rebuilding will likely take some time.
But more than anything, I am excited about the future...
Reaching inside my pocket, I take out the small velvet ring box and flip it open to look at the engagement ring I purchased yesterday.
...and I am over-the-moon at the prospect of asking the woman I love to be my wife.
Do I have a bit of apprehension over this enormous decision? I do. I think every man does. But I love her, and she loves me. We are, neither of us, too young or too flighty to make such an important commitment. But mostly, I want for Faye to know that when I suggested we stay together, I meant forever. We can have a long engagement, if that’s her preference, but if I am going to ask her to relocate her entire life to Fairbanks, I need for her to know that I am ready to bind my life to hers in every way that matters...that I want to spend every day from now until the end of our days...
Together.
***
I’m still staring out the window, practicing my proposal, when the room phone rings informing me that Faye’s car has arrived and the door man is helping her up the stairs to the lobby. I hurry down the hall to greet her, stepping into the lobby just as she walks through the entrance doors.
“No boot!” I exclaim, checking out her gray sweater dress with approval, though I note the sexy knee-high boots she could wear back in December won’t fit right now. She’s replaced them with black, furry slippers and looks adorable.
“No boot,” she says, with a grin. “I’m officially bootless now.”
Pulling her into my arms in the center of the lobby, I hold her tightly. “Did you figure out where we were meeting?”
“I had my suspicions,” she says.
Her hair, which she wears down as often as up, is in a loose bun tonight, as it was the night of our first date, a few days after Christmas.
I back up to look at her face, lightly made up with lip gloss and mascara. “You’re beautiful.”
“You’re biased.”
“Nah. I thought you were beautiful on Christmas Eve at the Golden Buddha.”
“I love you,” she whispers, her eyes glistening with emotion as she grins up at me.
Her words make my blood heat and my heart sing. “I love you too.”
“So...now that you’ve got me here, whatever will you do with me?” she asks.
“I did say one bed and zero clothes, right?”
“You did,” she says, arching against me. It’s one of her “tells.” She’s getting turned on.
“Well, I think we should head to our room and—”
“Trev?”
I didn’t hear the front doors open, but I recognize the voice calling to me from them. I look up from Faye’s face, over her shoulder, to find Cez and Marlena standing just inside the inn’s French doors.
It’s the first time I’ve seen my little brother in the flesh since that terrible night last June.
“Cez,” I murmur.
He clears his throat, his face registering worry. “Are you...staying here?”
Faye steps out of my arms and turns to face my brother.
“We are,” I say.
“Oh,” he says, shuffling his feet. “We are too.”
It’s an awkward conversation, with our respective women standing beside us, one of them quite obviously pregnant.
Faye steps forward with her hand outstretched. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Faye. Faye Findley.”
Cez’s eyes skim from mine to hers as he steps forward to meet her, taking her hand. “Cecil Starling. I’ve...met your sister. Harry.”
“She mentioned meeting all of you,” Faye says. “She loved your mother’s wassail.”
I watch this interaction, frozen in place, admiring Faye’s composure but uncertain that I’m ready to engage with my brother.
Faye turns to Marlena. “Hello, Marlena. We met in the ER, I believe.”
Marlena’s cheeks flush, and I realize how young and unsubstantial she looks beside Faye’s maturity and grace.
“Y-Yeah. Are you—how’s your foot? Oh!” She looks down at Faye’s slippers. “Your boot’s off, huh?”
“Just today,” says Faye. “It’s better, thank you for asking.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, and though she says nothing, I know she is letting me decide what happens next. She has handled any requisite civility and pleasantries. We can easily leave the lobby now...or I can step forward, stand beside her, and wish my brother and his fiancée well. It’s the softness in my girlfriend’s eyes, which reminds me of what she said about giving almost anything for one more day with her parents, that propels me forward. I hold her eyes until the front of my body touches her back, then look up at my brother and his fiancée.
“You look well, Marlena.”
“Thank you.”
Taking a deep breath, I slide my eyes to Cez.
“Trev,” he says, his eyes instantly filling with tears. “I...I...just...”
Faye’s hand reaches behind to capture mine, and I lace our fingers together.
“I forgive you, Cez,” I tell him, nodding as I take a deep and ragged breath. “It’ll take some time for me to trust you, but I forgive you, brother.”
He makes a small, strangled sound that slips through his tightly closed lips, blinking his eyes like crazy as he nods at me. After taking a stuttered breath through his nose and sniffling, he clears his throat.
“Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat again, while wiping away some runaway tears. “I promise...I promise never, ever to hurt you like that again.”
Faye squeezes my hand gently.
I nod at Cez, feeling my own eyes start to burn. I’m eager to get away from him before I embarrass myself in public.
“Well,” says Faye in a warm tone. “We wish you both a happy Valentine’s Day. Will you excuse us? Have a lovely stay.”
“Yeah,” chirps Marlena. “You too.”
“Of course,” says Cez, who’s just starting to get himself under control. “Good night.”
I nod at him once more, then I turn around, headed back to our room, my hand still safely entwined with hers.
“You did a good thing,” she says softly as we head down the hallway, out of earshot of the lobby.
The next breath I take is deep and restorative. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”
“You would have, eventually,” she says. “You were angry with him, but you still love him.”
She’s right. I do. But honestly, I’ve spent enough time on Cez for tonight.
“Now,” I suggest, “how about we get on to the business of celebrating our first Valentine’s Day together?”
“Sounds divine.”
She grins up at me as I slide the keycard into the door reader, preceding me into the room and gasping lightly over the rose petals. She turns around to smile at me. “How beautiful. Did you do this for me?”
“Mm-hm.”
“You’re setting the bar very high for future Valentine’s Days,” she informs me, glancing at the ice bucket. “Wow! Is that Louis Roederer?”
“It is.” I nod, crossing the room to join her. I take the bottle out of the bucket, feeling a galvanizing, a gathering inside of me. Is this the moment? I think it might be.
Opening the bottle with a satisfying pop, I pour two glasses, handing one to her, and raising the other.
“To us,” I say.
“To us,” she says.
“Don’t drink yet,” I tell her as she raises the flute to her lips.
“Why?”
I place my flute on the bureau, pull the little box from my pocket, and drop down on one knee before her. She gasps sharply, placing
her free hand over her heart as I open the box to reveal a two-carat princess-cut diamond engagement ring.
“Trevor!”
I reach for her wineglass and place it on the floor, then take her free hand and hold it in mine.
“Faye. Sweetheart. I love you so much.”
“I...love you too,” she sobs, smiling at me through tears.
“This may feel fast, but the reality is that I know the difference between asking the wrong woman to marry me and asking the right one,” I tell her. “You are the right woman for me. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I know what I want, Faye Findley. It’s you. It’ll always be you.”
Tears slide down her face as she murmurs my name. “Trevor...”
“Please be my wife,” I whisper in a rush. “Marry me.”
My sweet woman, whom I love more than my life, sits down on my knee, wraps her arms around my neck and looks me in the eyes.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Yes?”
“Yes!” she cries, leaning forward to kiss me as I pull the ring from its velvet pillow.
When she draws back, I take her arm from around my neck and place the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. She admires it for a second, then slides her eyes to mine...and they are full of wonder, and gratitude, and love.
“Now I know what ‘stay indefinitely’ means,” she says, reaching up to wipe away her tears.
“It means I will love you to the end of time,” I promise her, my body finally relaxing from the emotion of my proposal but starting to get turned on by the woman sitting on my knee and the huge bed behind us. I stand up, take her beringed hand in mine, and lead her over to the bed.
She pulls her dress over her head, blushing from head to toe when she explains. “I decided to go commando.”
A second later, I’m as naked as she.
I sit on the edge of the bed and draw her onto my lap, sliding into the wet heat of her body as she lowers herself onto my erection.
She moans softly beside my ear, and she feels so fucking good, I’m about to lose all semblance of concentration, when she murmurs: “Mr. Fairbanks had it all wrong.”
“What do you mean,” I ask in a gravelly whisper, “he had it all wrong?”
“In the”—she gasps as I thrust forward again—“ad. He said, ‘Zero chance of love.’” She arches her back so that our chests are flush and her heart beats against mine. She cups my face in her hands, looking deeply into my eyes and says, “What he didn’t know...at the time...was that we had a one hundred percent chance of true love.”