Bedroom Diplomacy

by Michelle Celmer

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Oh, I remember…” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have some work to do, but I’ll knock you up in an hour or two.”

  She blinked. “I’m sorry, you’ll do what?”

  “Knock you up, knock on your door.”

  “Oh, okay, good. For a minute there I though you meant something totally different.”

  He kissed her forehead again and said, “See you in a bit.”

  “Colin, you don’t have to.”

  No, but oddly enough, he wanted to.

  Nine

  Rowena tossed and turned for a while, then settled into a deep dreamless sleep. She woke later, disoriented by the fact that it was light out, since she usually woke at the crack of dawn. Without her contacts in, she couldn’t see the clock. But when she moved, and her achy muscles screamed in protest, she remembered that she was sick.

  Colin must have anticipated her condition, because there were ibuprofen pills and a glass of ice water on the bedside table.

  She sat up to take the pills, thinking she might be well enough for a shower, but she was so woozy, and her body so sore and limp, she wasn’t sure she would even make it to the bathroom. She closed her eyes and must have fallen right back to sleep, because when she opened them again the room was dark.

  What time was it? And who was taking care of Dylan?

  She shot up in bed, still feeling weak and dizzy. “Colin?” she called. “Betty? Anybody?”

  Colin appeared in the doorway an instant later. “You’re awake.”

  “How long did I sleep? Is it really dark out?”

  “It’s nine-thirty.” He switched on the lamp and she squinted as the light burned her retinas.

  “At night?” She couldn’t recall ever having slept this long in her adult life, and she couldn’t say she felt any better for it. She felt so lousy, in fact, she didn’t even care how dreadful she must have looked. “Where is Dylan? I have to make him dinner.”

  “Dylan and I had dinner hours ago. He’s in bed.”

  “You had dinner together?”

  “Betty’s chicken pot pie. That woman is a genius in the kitchen.”

  “I should go check on him,” she said, but when she tried to move, she could barely get up on her elbows. It felt as if someone had covered her with a lead blanket.

  “Relax,” Colin said. “I’ve been checking on him every fifteen minutes. He’s fine.”

  “He has medication to take—”

  “Betty showed me the list. He’s all set for the night.”

  “Betty knows you’re here?”

  “I get the feeling she knows everything. I assume you’ve talked to her about us.”

  “We talked. She won’t rat us out.”

  Unable to hold herself up another instant, she dropped back against the mattress. “I’m so sorry you had to do this.”

  “Don’t be. We had fun. Dylan is a great kid.”

  A great kid who didn’t need to get attached to a man, then have him walk away.

  “Are you hungry?” Colin asked.

  She shook her head. Her symptoms this morning didn’t even compare to how wretched she felt now. Everything ached, as if someone had worked her over from head to toe, but from the inside. Though she knew it was physically impossible, even her hair throbbed.

  “I think maybe I need more ibuprofen,” she said. Or a gun.

  She was so weak and jittery Colin had to help her sit up, and he held the water glass while she took the pills. Then he set the glass on the bedside table.

  “Could you have Betty come up here so I can ask her to stay over? If Dylan wakes in the middle of the night and I’m this sick, I won’t be able to take care of him.”

  “She offered to stay, but I told her she didn’t have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m staying here tonight.”

  “Colin, you really don’t have to do that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But I want to.”

  But why? Why would he take a chance getting caught? And why was he hanging around, taking care of her? Taking care of her son? This was supposed to be an affair. Just sex. She was already starting to really like him, and he was only making it worse.

  “Why don’t you get back to sleep?” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  She hoped so. She couldn’t imagine feeling any worse. And before she could lodge another protest, he was gone. She was so weak, following him wasn’t even an option. So she fell right back to sleep instead. She roused once in the middle of the night and could swear she saw the outline of a body lying in bed next to her, and though she meant to reach over and feel the mattress, she must have fallen back to sleep before she had the chance. When she woke up again the room was bright. She heard morning sounds coming from the kitchen and Dylan’s infectious giggle. Had Colin really been in bed with her, or had it been some fever-induced, vivid dream? The covers were so disheveled from all of her tossing and turning, it was hard to say.

  She pushed herself up into a sitting position, relieved to discover that although she still felt weak, nothing seemed to be hurting today. Not even her head. Her tummy rumbled and the aroma of fresh coffee coaxed her out of bed, but when she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she gasped. Her hair was so matted it looked dreadlocked. No way she wanted Colin to see her looking this bad.

  Shower, then coffee.

  *

  Colin got Dylan dressed, fed and medicated, then settled in front of the television watching Saturday-morning kids’ shows. For a two-and-a-half-year-old special-needs child, Dylan was independent and extremely capable—or so it seemed to Colin—and pretty darned easy to care for. He had expected Dylan to be upset that his mother wasn’t around, but he seemed to understand that she was sick and needed rest. Maybe because it was something with which he had personal experience. Too much personal experience.

  When Colin had rolled out of bed an hour ago, Rowena was sleeping peacefully, but when he stepped into her room to check on her now, the bed was empty and he could hear the shower running in the bathroom. He hoped that meant she was feeling better today. She had been so out of it yesterday that he’d begun to worry about her, and if she hadn’t improved by this morning he was going to insist she see a doctor. The fact that she had the energy to make it to the shower unaided was a good sign.

  “Cowin!” Dylan called from the living room. When Colin stepped into the room, Dylan held out his cup—or sippy, as he called it—and said, “Duce peez?” Which Colin had learned meant juice please. He was getting quite adept at translating Dylan’s speech. There were still questionable words, but usually he could figure out what the boy meant.

  “Apple juice?” Colin said.

  Dylan smiled and nodded vigorously.

  Colin got his juice, then put the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and wiped down the counters. He had just finished when Rowena emerged from her bedroom. She was dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a Lakers sweatshirt, she wore no makeup and her hair was wet, but she looked to be on the way to recovery.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Feeling better today, I see.”

  “Still a little weak, but I feel human again.”

  Dylan heard her voice and screeched, “Mommy!”

  She smiled. “Hey, honey.”

  He got up from the rug where he’d been sitting and hobbled over to Rowena. Colin had realized that although Dylan looked unsteady on his feet, he actually had fairly good balance, all things considered, and maybe if Rowena let him spread his wings a little, he would walk even better.

  Rowena picked him up and gave him a big hug. Dylan launched into a long explanation of everything he and Colin had done while she was sick, everything they had eaten, what books they had read before bed last night. The kid didn’t miss a thing. And though some of it was still a little hard to understand, the last thing he said was crystal clear. When Rowena said, “
It sounds like you had fun with Colin,” Dylan nodded and said, “He be my daddy?”

  Whoa. His daddy?

  Colin hadn’t been expecting that, and clearly neither had Rowena. Stunned, she looked over to Colin, then back to Dylan as if she didn’t know what to say. But one thing Colin had learned was that toddlers—even ones as smart as Dylan—were easily distracted.

  “Hey, Dylan, did you want to show Mummy what you made her in art class yesterday?”

  Dylan’s face lit up and he shifted to get out of her arms. “I geddit!”

  She put him down and he scurried off to his room, not exactly running, but moving pretty fast.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” she told Colin, looking utterly horrified.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I have absolutely no idea where that came from. He’s never done it before with anyone.”

  “Rowena—”

  “He gets confused. His friends talk about their daddies and…of course I don’t date, so his exposure to men is limited. Not that I think we’re dating.”

  He touched her arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I guess it never occurred to me that my being around would confuse Dylan. If I had known I wouldn’t have insisted on staying. I’m sorry if I put you in a difficult situation.”

  “It seems lately there are so many things he wants, so much I want to give him but can’t. I feel as if I’m failing him.”

  Dylan hobbled back into the room to give his mommy the picture he’d made at day care yesterday.

  “Oh, baby, I love it!” Colin heard her say as he walked into the kitchen, and he could swear there were tears in her voice. How could she possibly think she was failing Dylan? He was happy and smart and as healthy as he could be—and according to Betty, mostly due to Rowena’s diligence. And Dylan clearly loved her to death. If there was anything he wanted but didn’t have, Colin was sure it was for a good reason, and not her fault in the least. From behind him Rowena asked, “Hey, any chance I could score a cup of that coffee?”

  *

  Rowena could hardly believe that after Dylan’s daddy comment, Colin hadn’t made a beeline for the door. But there he was, still in her kitchen.

  “How about something to eat?” he asked her. “You must be famished.”

  “I am pretty hungry, but I could just have cereal.”

  “Nonsense.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the plate of leftover pancakes. “I saved you these.”

  “Oh! Betty’s famous flapjacks?”

  “Not quite.” At her confused look, he said, “I made them.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure. I’ll have some.”

  Colin laughed. “Don’t worry, they’re edible.”

  “I didn’t even realize I had pancake mix.”

  “You didn’t. I made them from scratch.”

  Really?

  He slid the plate into the microwave, set the time and pressed the start button, then poured her coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black.” He handed her the cup and she took a sip, sighing with pleasure. There was nothing like a good, strong cup of coffee to start the day. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he sound almost as if he thought that was a bad thing?

  They were having an affair. Sex only. No meaningful conversations required.

  The microwave dinged and Colin set the plate in front of her. She slathered the pancakes in butter and syrup, then took a bite. “Oh, my God! These are delicious!”

  She scarfed them down, and getting some food in her stomach made a world of difference.

  “So I’m thinking it would be best, so as not to confuse Dylan, if we only saw each other when he isn’t around,” Colin said.

  “I think that would be best. We have a week and a half. This is supposed to be about having fun. Let’s not complicate it with personal stuff.”

  God knows her life would be complicated enough in the coming months. In her free time she had been finalizing her plans, and if all went well, and stayed on schedule, she would be putting that plan into action soon.

  “I’m going to go take care of a few things,” Colin said. “Why don’t you text me later, after Dylan is in bed. Betty mentioned that most of the staff is gone on the weekends, so if we’re careful, getting caught shouldn’t be a concern.”

  Betty was so awesome, and Rowena loved her for it. “I’ll do that.”

  “You know, last night I finally got you into a real bed, and all we did was sleep.”

  So that was him.

  “I’ll see you later,” Colin said. He looked over at Dylan, who was mesmerized by the television, then pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Text me.”

  When he was gone, Rowena sat down in one of the kitchen chairs to drink her coffee. She was relieved to have some time to herself, what with all of the things she still had to do, though she was limited on the weekends since every government agency she would need to contact was closed.

  She was on her second cup of coffee when Cara called.

  “It’s official,” she told Rowena. “I’ve hit a dead end. I’ve searched the internet and asked around, and no one seems to know what happened to Madeline. It’s as if she vanished into thin air.”

  “Or changed her name to Angelica Pierce and had a serious makeover. You wouldn’t happen to have a yearbook from high school from before the time she was expelled.”

  “Somewhere. Do you?”

  “I think it may be in storage with my other stuff in D.C., but I’m not sure when I’ll have a chance to look for it.” She wasn’t planning a trip to Washington anytime soon. Like in this century.

  “I’ll see if I can find mine, then.”

  “By the way, have you talked to Ariella?”

  “Yeah. She’s still in shock, I think.”

  Who wouldn’t be if they learned they might be the president’s illegitimate child? “Has she met with him yet?”

  “Not yet. She said they’re going to wait for the DNA test results to come in. Until then she’s lying low.”

  “Has anyone heard from the alleged birth mom?”

  “Eleanor Albert is in the wind, as they say.”

  “Well, send my best to Ariella and tell her I’m keeping her in my thoughts.”

  “She’ll appreciate that. She’s such a sweet person. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  They talked for several minutes about the latest D.C. gossip—who was sleeping with or bribing whom, and other juicy tidbits, then they hung up so Rowena could get herself and Dylan ready to go.

  Dylan was still mesmerized by the television. Rowena tried to limit his TV time to two hours a day, and only educational programming. But on the weekends she made exceptions. Especially if she had things to do that were difficult to accomplish with a toddler vying for her attention. Although right now Rowena was the one feeling distracted. She finally closed her laptop and called to Dylan, “Hey, pumpkin, you want to go to the playground for a while?”

  Dylan’s head snapped in her direction, and his eyes lit up. “Cowin come, too!”

  Damn. They needed to have a talk about this. She walked over and sat on the rug beside him. “No, Dylan, Colin is not coming with us. He only stayed here because mommy was sick and he wanted to help. Like when you have to go to the hospital and the nurses and doctors all help each other take care of you. Just like when you hit your head and Colin fixed your boo-boo.”

  Dylan nodded, then said, “He be my daddy?”

  She sighed. The message just wasn’t getting through. “No, sweetheart, he’s not going to be your daddy. But he can be your friend.”

  “I don’t have a daddy,” he said, so matter-of-factly it broke her heart.

  “Some kids don’t have daddies, but that only means that their mommies love them extra, extra special,” she said, tickling his ribs until he was out of breath from giggling. “Now go get your shoes and your backpack. And you can
bring one toy.”

  “Yeah!”

  She watched him hobble down the hall to his room, so sweet and innocent, her heart bursting with love for him. And out of nowhere she had the inexplicable feeling that despite everything he had been through, and everything he had to face in the future, he would be okay. He would succeed and be happy.

  She only wished she felt so hopeful about her own life.

  Ten

  Rowena and Dylan played on the playground until lunchtime, then as a special treat she took him to his favorite fast-food restaurant. She even let him have a caffeine-free soda. In the not-so-distant future there wouldn’t be money for these little luxuries. She would be counting her pennies.

  She tucked Dylan in at seven-thirty and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  She thought tonight it would be nice to do something a little different, so she stripped out of her clothes and changed into the lace teddy that was a hold-over from before she had Dylan. It was snug, but it fit. She pulled her silk robe on and belted it at the waist, then brushed her hair out and dabbed on lipstick. Usually when Colin and she met at the pool house they were so anxious to get naked and get to the good stuff, she didn’t bother with sexy clothes or makeup. For them, the seduction phase was obsolete. Intercourse was a forgone conclusion. Tonight would be a little different. They would have almost all night, and she couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to having sex in a real bed for a change.

  Instead of typing out a text, she opened the robe and took a photo of herself and texted that instead. And he must have been ready to go, because he was knocking on her door a minute or two later.

  She opened it, and he made a growly noise in his throat when he saw her.

  “Is this for me?” he asked, slipping inside, reaching out to run his fingers over the lace covering her belly.

  “I thought it would be a nice change of pace.”

  “I’d have come here in my silk pajamas, but not only would it be difficult to explain if someone were to see me, but I don’t actually own silk pajamas.”

  “I like what you’re wearing now.” The jogging pants were very easy access, and the nylon muscle shirt showed off his extraordinary pecs. How could she be so lucky that her first time back in the ring was with someone so unbelievably hot and awesome in bed…or on the floor, as was typically the case.