by Jo Leigh
His own parents had shown him all he really needed to know about marriage. They'd each been married four times, all unsuccessful. All ugly, bitter and vengeful. No, thank you.
But Lee's proposition wasn't for marriage. It was for something completely different. They wouldn't have a chance to become bored with each other, because they wouldn't live together. She wouldn't depend on him to make her happy. She'd do that on her own. He wouldn't expect her to make his life tidy. That would be his responsibility.
He listened to the shower for a moment. She hadn't finished yet. Maybe it wasn't too late. He put the paper aside and stood. Eyed the long walk to the bathroom. Then his phone rang.
He picked up the receiver, embarrassingly relieved. "Hello?"
"Is she there? Have you done it yet?"
Trevor shook his head as he heard Peter's voice. "Jeez, Peter. Was this on the news or what?"
"Something this big can't be hidden, Trevor. It's way too juicy."
"All of you need to get a life. Or an insurance plan with a big mental health rider."
"So, answer me."
"No."
"No, you won't answer me, or no, you haven't done it?"
"Both."
"Damn. Here I thought someone was going to get lucky today. So much for romance."
"I gather things aren't working out with what's-his-name?"
"Fox. And yes, I saw the actual birth certificate. He decided to go back to Idaho. For the skiing. I mean, I can understand wanting to ski, but, for God's sake, Idaho? I must remember to stick to urbanites."
"If I recall, you told me it was his rural roots that attracted you in the first place." Trevor had known the relationship between Fox and Peter wasn't going to make it. Peter was always hooking up with gorgeous young twinkies, and being disappointed when he discovered that there was nothing inside them but cream filling. Peter might look like them—dark, wavy hair, lean, movie-star handsome—but, inside, Peter was a substantial man. Someone Trevor could lean on. That is, when the actor wasn't in the throes of another shattered love affair.
"I was a fool," Peter said with a sigh. "Blinded by the rip in his jeans."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"Me, too. Oh well, c'est la vie. I'll just have to live vicariously through you and Lee."
"You're going to be disappointed."
"You've decided?"
"Yes. Well, maybe … yes."
"Ah," Peter said, his tone way too superior for a guy who'd been dumped by a ski bunny. "The man with the iron will speaks."
"This isn't an easy decision."
"Sure it is. You love her. She loves you. What's the problem?"
"You know it's not that simple, Peter."
"Yeah, okay. I guess. So you guys coming to lunch?"
"Of course."
"Cool. We'll talk about it there."
"No! We will not talk about it. There or anywhere else." There was a long pause. Trevor heard the shower shut off.
"Did anyone ever tell you you don't share well with others?" Peter said, finally.
"Yes."
Another dramatic sigh wafted over the airwaves. "I'll see you later."
"Bye." Trevor hung up the phone. He tried to breathe calmly, but that wasn't easy when he thought he might be having a heart attack. She was going to open that door any second. The question was, how? Dressed? In a towel? Naked as Miss July?
He took a step toward the kitchen. The coffee. That was done. He'd just get a cup. Then he stopped. He didn't want coffee. He turned toward the hallway. He needed a towel. For his shower. His cold shower.
No, maybe coffee first. He turned again and headed toward the kitchen.
"Is that a new dance? Is it anything like the Lambada?"
Trevor froze. He hadn't heard her open the door. She didn't sound naked. He turned his head slowly. When he saw that she was dressed, he relaxed. But he couldn't deny that he was disappointed.
"What?"
"Nothing. Coffee's ready."
"Good."
"The paper is, too."
"Also good. Thanks. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Never better."
She frowned. "This is about sex, isn't it?"
He nodded.
She walked toward him, her long hair sleek and wet, her skin so clean and luminous he wanted to touch it with both hands. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea," she said.
"What?"
"Sex."
"Oh, yeah." He forced himself to look at something that didn't turn him on. The radiator.
"You want to just forget it?" she asked, although he could hear she wasn't sure.
"Maybe that's not such a bad idea."
"I know. It was kind of nuts. I mean, we have something really special here. I'd hate to ruin that."
"Yeah, that was my concern. You're too important to me. I don't like the idea of risking that."
"I know," she said, smiling a little. "Let's just skip it. It was a crazy idea. Forget it."
He looked at Lee. She'd pushed her hair back. Curled the sides behind her ears. One tiny wisp of hair hadn't made it, though. He reached out to help, and his fingertips brushed her cheek. That was all. That was enough.
He leaned down to kiss her.
* * *
Chapter 3
« ^ »
He was going to kiss her, she realized. No, wait. He wasn't.
Trevor's head jerked back and he turned sharply to the left, almost bumping into the wall before making his way into the kitchen.
He busied himself with the coffee, avoiding her glance, but not quite able to hide the flush on his cheeks. He had wanted to kiss her, but he'd balked, changed his mind midlunge.
She needed to think about this. Without waiting for her coffee, she went to the big burgundy couch that dominated the living room and settled into the right corner. She pulled her sections of the paper close, then spread out the sports page. But she didn't read it. She just stared, letting the words blur.
Trevor had intended to kiss her, even if the urge had only lasted for a second. And that was after she'd said they should forget about sex. After he'd agreed. Obviously, he was entertaining the same kind of doubts she was. To do it? Or not to do it? That was, indeed, the question.
"You, uh, want a muffin or something?" Trevor asked, still behind the safety of the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen.
"What do you have?" she asked, not ready to look at him yet. She didn't want him to know how confused she was, and Trevor could read her like a memo.
"Frosted Flakes," he said.
"That's not a muffin."
"I know. I don't have any muffins."
She laughed. "I'll pass."
"Okay," he said. "I'm out of milk, anyway."
Lee shook her head. He really was quite high up on her adorable scale, which was one of the reasons she felt that sleeping with him would be terrific. She just knew he'd be funny. Well, not every minute, but when it was appropriate, he'd make her laugh. There were few things she liked better than laughing in bed. For some reason, it always made her incredibly horny, at least when there was a naked man next to her. Laughing at David Letterman seldom did the trick.
"Here," he said.
She jumped, shaking the papers on her lap. She hadn't heard him come into the room. He stood next to her, holding out her coffee mug. The one that said, I Bitch, Therefore I Am. He'd bought it for her. Sentimental fool.
"I'm going to shower," he said, as she took the cup from his outstretched hand.
"Trevor, can I ask you a question?"
"No."
She waited for him to smile, but he didn't.
"You don't even know what the question is."
"If it's not about the Yankees, the weather, or work, I don't want to hear it."
"Okay, okay," she said, sinking back on the couch, marveling that Trevor was so unbalanced. She'd seen him with all sorts of women—from waitresses to district judges—on the double dates Katy was a
lways setting them up with, but she'd never seen him lose his equilibrium.
She let him go, glad now that she hadn't asked him if he'd thought about kissing her. His whole attitude was his answer.
Her answer, despite the lapse in the shower, was still the same. If they could get past this awkward phase, she was convinced they could have something fabulous together. She rarely had powerful intuitions. But when she did, they always turned out to be right on the money.
It might take some time for this thing to happen, but what difference did that make? She had time and he wasn't going anywhere. Actually, going slowly made a great deal of sense. They had a lot on the line, and she didn't want to risk doing anything hasty.
Okay. She was going to do this thing. They were going to do it together. What had been a hazy question this morning was now a solid decision. It felt right. It felt good.
It felt scary as hell.
* * *
Trevor took his seat at the round table in the busy café. It was always the same—Lee, him, Katy, Ben, Susan and Peter. All in a nice circle of boy-girl-boy-girl. The only time it changed was when someone, usually Peter, brought a guest. But in the four years they'd been coming to the Broadway Diner, that hadn't happened more than six times.
Their Sunday brunch had become a sacred ritual. The waiters knew them so well that only minutes after the first person arrived, the lox, bagels, cream cheese and all the accoutrements were on the table. Coffee and juice poured. Even Peter's dill pickle for later was boxed and ready.
Trevor liked it this way. He was a man comfortable with rituals and routines. He woke every day at the same time. He went to sleep every night after Charlie Rose on PBS. He read the paper the same way every morning, answered his E-mail, checked his stocks, then shifted into work mode.
He picked up his napkin and placed it on his lap just as Susan and Peter walked up to the table. Ben and Katy were already there. The waiter filled his coffee cup, and Trevor relaxed for the first time this morning. He felt safe again. Among friends. Knee-deep in the familiar. All that business of sleeping with Lee was now on hold, at least for the next hour and a half.
"So," Susan said, grabbing a poppy seed bagel from the platter on the table, "did you two hit the sheets yet?"
So much for safety.
"No, we didn't." Lee sent a stern look around the table. "And you guys have to quit asking. This isn't going to happen overnight."
"I thought it wasn't going to happen at all." Yet somehow Trevor wasn't surprised that Lee had changed her mind again.
"Oh, that," Lee said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Ignore that. I just went spooky for a minute, that's all."
"I'm still spooky."
"No one needs to be spooky at all," Katy said. "The whole matter of you two sleeping together can be settled quickly and sanely."
Ben frowned at his wife. People often mistook them for brother and sister, they looked so much alike. Dark hair, slender, around the same height. Katy was convinced they had been related in many lifetimes. But then, that was Katy. "Honey," Ben said. "I don't think they should risk something as important as their friendship based on some pop psychology quiz."
"Pop psychology quiz? Did I say anything about a pop psychology quiz?"
Ben shook his head. "Okay, so what's your quick and sane method?"
Katy picked up half an egg bagel and started spreading it with cream cheese. "Nothing," she said.
Ben sighed. He reached over and stilled her hand with his own. "Come on, Katy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. If you have a solution, we'd like to hear it."
"I wouldn't," Trevor said, even though he knew everyone was going to ignore him.
"I think Lee's right," Peter said. "It makes a lot of sense for you two to get together. It's a jungle out there. Dangerous. Filled with wicked people who'd like nothing better than to get a person all hot and bothered about them, only to wake up one morning and announce they're going back to Idaho to fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming a ski instructor."
Susan shook her head. "Bobby?"
Peter nodded.
"I won't say I told you so," she said, patting Peter on the shoulder. "But dammit, I told you so."
"Susan, you wouldn't like him if he were the Pope," Peter said with a sigh. "Someone pass the lox."
"If he were the Pope, he wouldn't be dating you, now would he?" Susan said. "But you're right. No offense, but if you're going to get yourself involved with men, you're going to pay the price. It's just the way things are."
"Thanks," Ben said.
"Present company excepted," she said brightly.
Trevor felt bad for the guy. Peter was a wonderful actor and a hell of a guy, but he had terrible taste in men. He always seemed to pick the ones who were emotionally unavailable.
That's why he and Susan got along so well. Her ex-husband Larry was the all-time award-winning SOB. He'd taken her for her money, slept with her sister, and dumped her for his secretary. Susan had handled it quite well. She'd decided to swear off all men for all time, and plotted revenge for a hobby. She seemed to delight in tormenting the men that pursued her, and there were plenty of those. Susan was the only blond in the bunch. Tall, slender, Nordic-looking with pale-blue eyes, she attracted men like a magnet. But she would have none of them. They were all potential Larrys to her.
"I think you two need to just get it over with," Susan said, looking seriously at Trevor. "The longer you delay it, the more time you'll have to screw things up. I mean, come on. Think of all those wretched double dates Katy's always forcing you two into. You always end up spending the evening entertaining each other while your poor dates wither on the sidelines."
Ben draped an arm around Katy. "I think they shouldn't do anything too fast. It's a big deal. Not to be taken lightly."
"I think we should all just eat our damn bagels and talk about something else," Trevor said. He took a bialy and prepared it with a vengeance. Extra cream cheese. Four tomato slices. A pile of lox.
"I still want to hear what Katy has to say." Lee stirred her coffee the way she always did when she was nervous.
Trevor wanted to tell her to eat. She'd barely nibbled on her breakfast, which wasn't good for her. Worrying about Lee had become as much a ritual as brushing his teeth. Not that she ever listened to his advice. But he kept giving it to her anyway.
Of course, she did the same to him. God, they were already a couple. They just lived in separate apartments, and, well, there was the sex thing. That sex thing was a doozy. It was tempting as hell. She was so perfect, and he already loved her so much. But maybe the reason he loved her was because she didn't ask anything of him, except friendship. She didn't get upset when he had to change plans. She didn't need to know where he was every minute of his day. She didn't even mind when he made fun of her odd penchant for The Simpsons.
It was very good, what they had. The best thing in his life.
"First," Katy said, wiping a stray dab of cream cheese from the corner of her mouth. "You need to ask yourself three questions. What do I really want? Will getting closer enhance the relationship, or put too big a strain on it?" Katy cleared her throat, and as if anticipating the weight of her words, the restaurant noise dimmed to a soft murmur. Trevor felt himself tense, although he wasn't sure why.
"And here's the big one. What happens if one of you or both of you fall in love?"
"With each other?" Lee blurted out.
"Yes." Katy nodded. "You have to consider it. You're moving into emotional territory. Barriers are going to break down. Intimacy is a strong and powerful thing. It can change things in a heartbeat."
Trevor looked at Lee. She looked back, blinking, as if the concept of falling in love with him was so foreign it had never once occurred to her.
It had occurred to him. That was the trouble. It had occurred to him plenty.
He had no misconceptions about his shortcomings. He couldn't dance. He was allergic to strawberries. And he couldn't commit to a relationship. Couldn'
t, wouldn't. It didn't matter as the outcome was the same. If Lee fell in love with him, there was no way he wouldn't hurt her. And if he fell … well, he wouldn't. That's all. Just thinking about it, a fist of panic squeezed his chest.
"Don't worry," Lee said softly. "I love you too much to fall in love with you. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy, let alone my best friend."
* * *
That evening, Lee poured some dry food in the cat bowls, which sparked George and Ira into a frenzy of leg rubbing and loud conversation. She petted them both which was their signal to eat.
She watched them for a while. George was bigger than his brother, but Ira was a real fireball. He held his own against the orange tabby, often committing unprovoked paw batting when poor George was sound asleep. George, on the other hand, was content to sit on the window box all day without so much as a by-your-leave to her or Ira.
Next life, she was coming back as a cat.
In this life, she still had to get ready for the week ahead. Plan her meals, get her clothes together, go to the market. Figure out what the hell she was going to do about Trevor.
She went to her desk and got out her date book. Oh, God. She and Trevor were supposed to go out on a double date next week. She'd have to think about that. Maybe they shouldn't. On the other hand, maybe it would be the best thing. She was too tired to think about that now.
Then there was lunch on Tuesday with Katy, right after Katy's appointment with the doctor. She hoped that, please, please, this time would mean good news. Katy and Ben deserved a break. Their struggle to get pregnant had gone from the sublime to the ridiculous. Lee remembered when they'd first decided to go for it. How they'd been like kids in the candy store, having sex at every opportunity, as excited as they'd been when they were newlyweds. But nothing happened. He'd been checked, she'd been checked. Nothing was wrong. They were both able to have kids. Unfortunately, Katy's eggs hadn't gotten the message.
This new doctor might be just the ticket. Lee sure hoped so. Ben and Katy were the best couple she'd ever known. They deserved kids, and kids deserved them.
If only she'd been able to find someone like Ben. Or been as adept at relationships as Katy. It didn't do any good to lament the woeful truth, and she'd told herself a hundred times to stop wishing for things that could never be, but she couldn't help it. It was a wound that wouldn't heal, and even though it hurt, she continued to prod and poke, to rehash her mistakes until she just couldn't face them anymore.