Won't Last Long

by Heidi Joy Tretheway

  Joshua nodded, realizing the truth in Melina’s words. Setting boundaries meant consequences—they meant change. Would he be forced to sever another tie from his past? For a woman with whom he had an uncertain future?

  “I can make her move out. Today. But I don’t have to be mean about it,” Joshua offered, setting the terms of this bargain. “And I don’t have to help her anytime she calls. But I’m not cutting her off entirely.”

  Joshua’s shoulders straightened. “She’s part of my history, but not my future. And so as long as she can respect that, we’ll be OK.”

  Melina nodded. It was a fair compromise, and more decisive than she’d seen Joshua before.

  “There’s nothing more attractive than a man who mans up,” Melina’s voice was husky. She tugged at the tie on her wrap dress and let it fall open.

  “There’s an incentive,” Joshua immediately closed the space between them, plunging his hand deep into her hair to tug her head back for a kiss. His other hand snaked around her waist to pull her against him.

  “So now come show me how much you missed me.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Melina! Stop keeping us in suspense! Give us the goods,” Taylor begged, eagerly holding out her hand as Melina approached her four friends’ table.

  Melina slowly turned, revealing a large, burnt orange handbag tucked behind her arm. The girls simultaneously squealed with delight.

  “A Giustiniano! How did you pull that off?” Andrea asked. Melina passed around the handbag carried exclusively by Hollywood A-listers.

  Holly lifted her brows at Melina—she knew. Melina had called in every favor, pushed every button and pressed every conceivable contact to jump ahead of a rumored waiting list of thousands.

  This was the bag to have. Small cars could be purchased for less. It was exquisite—the work of a craftsman toiling somewhere in Italy, hand-dyeing leather and hand-tying knots in the stitching.

  But more important to Melina, it was unobtainable. You couldn’t just walk into a store and buy a Giustiniano handbag, no matter how high your credit limit. It was impossible to order, impossible even to get on the waiting list. You couldn’t just know someone—you had to be someone, and preferably, a household name.

  And now Melina had one.

  She felt like she’d won something. She only wished more people could fully appreciate her victory.

  A waitress deposited four drinks on the table for Holly, Taylor, Lauren and Andrea.

  “What can I bring you?” she asked Melina. She saw the bag and her face flashed with recognition. “Is that—?”

  “Yes.”

  “But those are supposed to be impossible—”

  “They are,” Melina cut the waitress off. “I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.”

  The friends sipped their drinks and went around the table telling “hunting” stories of good and bad dates. Lauren revealed that she was back on the market—her relationship with the tall man from the bar had petered out—and Andrea claimed she was “single, but not available” to avoid the prospect of another first-date disappointment.

  “Come on, you’ve got to get back in the game,” Holly urged her.

  Andrea snorted. Holly was smitten, reunited with an old flame, and now she seemed to think the entire world should come in matched sets. Andrea wasn’t buying her promise of a soul mate for everyone.

  “I think staying single makes sense,” Taylor interjected with a naughty glint in her eye, “as long as you’re having plenty of fun. In my business, dating someone exclusively can be hazardous to your career, but going out is essential.”

  Most of Taylor’s clients were men, and she encouraged extra attention—and extra business.

  Andrea blew out a breath. “I think I was just trying too hard. Anticipating it and working myself into knots, trying to find the one before my biological clock kicks into overdrive.”

  “OK, then, that’s your solution!” Holly said brightly. “Just stop looking. Then it’s bound to happen.” Andrea and the others failed to conceal their skeptical looks. “Speaking of biological clocks….” Holly’s eyes swiveled to Melina.

  “Don’t. Just don’t.” Melina scowled.

  “Come on, Melina, it’s a big deal!”

  “Holly, seriously. Not up for discussion.”

  “What?” Lauren and Andrea were clueless and hated being left out of the loop.

  “It’s Melina’s birthday,” Holly stage-whispered. “The office manager coordinated a nice little cake as a surprise at work and Melina was P-I-S-S-E-D.” She mouthed Melina’s age: thirty-one.

  Melina’s eyes shot daggers, hating attention for the wrong reasons. The Giustiniano bag. That’s worth celebrating. Not the end of another year. Not the slide into middle age. That’s not glamorous. That’s just sad.

  “Melina, I’d say congratulations, but it looks like you’d rather have condolences,” Andrea offered gently. “I’ve been there. It sucks. Tell you what—let’s have another round,” she looked up and gestured to the waitress. “I’m buying.”

  “Good!” Holly brightened. “I’m broke.” She confessed that her burgeoning credit card balance had hit its limit, so she had to put herself on a financial diet.

  “So, does Joshua know about your birthday?” Taylor asked, curious. “Did he get you anything?”

  “News travels fast,” Melina grumbled. “He got wind of it from Eric and he wanted to take me out tonight, but since we already had plans for hunting, I said no.”

  Taylor sat back in her chair, surprised by Melina’s coolness. “So, same question. Did he get you anything? I doubt he could top the Giustiniano.”

  Melina’s smile finally returned. “That’s certain. But since we’re not going out tonight, he insisted that we’re going out this weekend—for the whole weekend.”

  “Sounds romantic,” Lauren offered. “Some cozy little B and B, drinking wine and watching the sunset, I’ll bet.”

  “Sounds suspicious,” Melina corrected her. “He said he’s taking me away for the weekend on one condition. He wants it to be a surprise where we’re going, so he gets to pack for me.”

  Given the wide array of clothes in her closet, they could be going anywhere. Melina crossed her fingers that he’d sprung for somewhere five-star and fully air-conditioned.

  ***

  Joshua looked gleeful as he ushered Melina down the stairs from her apartment in the heavy summer heat, carrying an alarmingly small bag of her things.

  He didn’t even let her watch him pack. How could she tell him what was missing? Presumably he’d remember a toothbrush, but there was no way he had gotten all the right lotions and cosmetics in that one, tiny bag.

  This is a bad idea.

  As they walked down the gravel drive and around the laurel hedge, Joshua stopped. Melina caught her stride, looked up, and did a double take.

  It. Was. Stunning.

  A gleaming Porsche Carrera Targa was parked there, brilliant black with an unusual purple undertone.

  “It’s one of the original colors, black aubergine,” Joshua explained with pride. “I had it mixed especially for my car and that’s part of why the bodywork took so long.”

  Joshua opened the door for Melina, who was still circling the car, silent and staring. Every inch of the dashboard was perfectly restored, as if the car was fresh from the dealership, circa 1974. The upholstery was completely redone in rich leather. Even the carpet was pristine, not a dog hair in sight.

  “How did you…?” Melina was almost speechless.

  “I got it back from the shop yesterday,” Joshua said, grinning ear to ear. Last time she’d seen the car, more than a month ago, the moldering upholstery was covered with towels. Joshua drove it anyway, thrilled with an engine that ran a quarter-mile in fourteen and a half seconds. Melina boycotted it; when they went somewhere, she drove. Always.

  “The red leather’s just like the original, too,” Joshua added. “All of the seals and trim were replaced. And the wheels have real spokes
, and I finally found an original mirror to replace the one that was missing…,” he trailed off. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s—it’s beautiful,” Melina said, quietly, appreciatively. “It’s a work of art.”

  “Does it look like it could outrace a garbage truck?” he asked, mischief lighting his eyes. “Not like a spackle-covered beater?”

  “I’m sorry I said those things,” Melina said. “I guess I didn’t have the vision to know a good thing when I saw it.”

  “Apology accepted!” Joshua announced, lifting his chin. “And now it’s time to take my beautiful girlfriend in this beautiful car for its inaugural road trip on her birthday. Do you think you can handle zero to sixty in five-point-eight seconds?”

  Melina got in the car. “When has speed ever scared me?”

  ***

  When Joshua headed north from Seattle, at first Melina guessed they were headed to Vancouver, British Columbia, perhaps to a five-star hotel in one of the city’s signature tall, slim towers. She imagined a live show, spa treatments and a long bubble bath.

  But too soon, Josh nudged the Porsche westward, toward the town of Anacortes, which bordered the Strait of Juan de Fuca. A yacht? she wondered. Maybe a private sailing trip?

  Melina was disappointed again as they boarded a very public green and white ferry boat.

  Chugging through the San Juan Islands, Melina imagined another destination: romantic Victoria, British Columbia, and its ivy-covered Empress Hotel. They could be strolling through the Butchart Gardens, showy with August blooms, sipping high tea and shopping in the boutiques.

  But halfway to Victoria, Joshua jumped up from the ferry bench and said, “Come on! It’s time to go.”

  “Go? We’re not there yet. The crossing takes four hours and it’s only been two,” Melina corrected.

  “Nope, not our crossing. We’re getting off here.” Joshua took her hand and tugged Melina back to the ferry’s auto deck to offload. They disembarked on tiny Shaw Island.

  As they drove onto the island, Melina’s spirits sagged. No way is there a five-star resort on this primitive little bump. She saw a quaint red schoolhouse with white trim and signs to a monastery, but few other signs of life.

  After half an hour winding through trees, with occasional peek-a-boo views of the water and disturbingly little civilization in sight, Joshua stopped the car.

  They arrived at a rustic shingled cabin right on the water. At first, Melina tried to disguise her disappointment by inspecting the wood-floored cabin, its sagging couch, scant kitchen and old windows that did nothing to dampen the sound of water as it slapped the shoreline.

  No phone. No TV. No room service. No air conditioning.

  “You brought me … here?”

  “Yeah,” Josh said, his back turned to Melina as he put their bags down on the small quilt-covered bed. “Isn’t it great?”

  “It’s … is this what you think I like?” Melina squeaked, gripping her Giustiniano bag tightly, as if putting it down would transform it into an object as plain as the rest of the things in the cabin. Melina was appalled that Joshua had clearly not picked up on her preference for the finer things.

  “Well, yes and no,” Joshua said slowly, his face clouding. “It’s your birthday, and so I wanted to do something special. Memorable.”

  “Memorable,” she repeated, her tone frosty. “Well, you’ve done that.”

  Hurt showed on Joshua’s face. “Look, I know you would probably choose a fancy hotel, but give me a minute, would you?”

  Melina nodded, aware that she was looking a gift horse in the mouth. But still. Her boyfriend should know her better. He should see her birthday as a reason to buy perfume and jewelry, not to take her on some wacky trip out to the sticks.

  “Come with me,” Joshua said. He pulled her toward the bed and opened her overnight bag. He pulled out a swimsuit and handed it to her. “Put this on.”

  Melina twisted away. “No! Just no! OK? You haul me out here, when we could have at least been in Seattle at a fancy restaurant with air conditioning, and now you want to go swim in that?”

  She jabbed her finger toward the rocky beach littered with twists of brown bull kelp. The water was barely warmer than fifty degrees.

  Melina picked up her overnight bag and stalked into the bathroom, closing the door in Joshua’s face.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Joshua’s gut lurched. Now or never. When he started dating Melina, he doubted they’d last six dates. But here they were, more than six months together, and she still didn’t trust him, still didn’t believe he could offer her things she didn’t even know she wanted.

  Roll the dice, Joshua thought. If she bags out of this trip, we’re through. We’re too different. And I’m done trying to please her because everything she thinks she wants just isn’t me.

  “OK, Melina,” Joshua said to the closed bathroom door, struggling to control his building fury. “It’s your choice. If you want to go home now, we can go. But then you’ll never know what you’re missing.”

  Me, he thought, resolving to break off their relationship when they got back to Seattle. A darker voice added, maybe you’re just not what she wants.

  Joshua went to the kitchen where his cooler sat on the counter unopened. Might as well enjoy it—there aren’t any restaurants around, air-conditioned or otherwise.

  Joshua lifted the cooler and walked outside to the sturdy picnic table by the shore. He came back inside, grabbed a tablecloth and place settings, and went out to set the table.

  Joshua unpacked what he had intended as a celebratory birthday feast, now soured by the likely end of their romance.

  Heirloom tomatoes, basil and fresh buffalo mozzarella. Rare grilled, sliced tri-tip steak, wrapped with spicy Asian slaw and wasabi mayo. Grilled zucchini brushed with chipotle marinade. Caramelized onion sourdough bread that he’d kneaded and risen and baked himself before dawn this morning. Bursting fresh blackberries, crème fraîche and pound cake.

  Joshua laid out the two crystal champagne flutes he’d purchased as a gift for Melina, and popped the cork on a bottle. Before he had a chance to pour, she came out of the cabin and picked her way over the rocks toward the picnic table by the water’s edge.

  She was stunning: pale skin on her slim legs and hair that shone like a halo in the late afternoon light. She was wearing the bathing suit he’d thrust in her hands and his old, hooded UW sweatshirt—he’d forgotten to pack her a robe.

  Her face looked different. Smoother, somehow.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She remained standing, but looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for throwing a fit, for saying this wasn’t good enough. You were trying to do something nice for me. And I wasn’t exactly … grateful.”

  Melina absently wiped a hand across her nose, a childlike gesture. She had been crying, Joshua realized. Did I really push her too far?

  Joshua put down the bottle and came to her, wrapping his arms around her, catching her scent mixed with the smell of his sweatshirt. He kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead.

  “Apology accepted,” Joshua said. “And I’m sorry too. I guess you don’t love surprises.”

  “It’s hard to love something you can’t control,” Melina admitted. “You can’t make any choices. You’re just—stuck.”

  Joshua tried to make the conversation lighter. “Well, I have some choices for you, before we go for a swim,” he said. “How about choosing which course of your birthday dinner you like best?”

  He turned her to face the picnic spread across the table, and delight shone in her eyes. “This looks amazing!”

  “You sure you wouldn’t rather go to a restaurant?” he asked, gently teasing, testing to see if the storm had passed. “I could take you to the place on the island, but I have to warn you—it’s also the general store, and it makes the Sea Shack look like fine dining.”

  “No, thanks, I’m sure this will be adequate.” She smiled, showing her true appreciation for the feast he�
�d prepared. He poured the champagne. They toasted, they sipped, they ate, they talked.

  ***

  Shadows grew, and Joshua moved to Melina’s side of the table to better see the sunset and put a warm arm around her. It seemed like they’d regained their footing as a couple.

  “So, I wanted to ask…” Melina hesitated. “Did you happen to pack anything else for me?”

  “Uh-oh, what’d I forget?” Joshua asked. “I know I got you jeans and underwear and a toothbrush and shampoo. What else did you need?”

  “What about my makeup?” she asked.

  Joshua stared.

  “And my lotion, and mousse, and hair dryer, and straightening iron?” She was serious. “I went through my whole bag and yours and I couldn’t find them anywhere. Are they still in your car?”

  Joshua almost laughed. “Um, nope. That’s it. We’re traveling light.”

  Melina was stricken. “But what will I do?” She gestured to her face. “I look awful!”

  Joshua’s thumb brushed her jawbone as he tipped up her chin. Her face looked different without makeup. Softer. “You, Melina Avgerakis, look absolutely and positively beautiful. What’s the problem?”

  Melina admitted that she’d cried most of her mascara off in the bathroom and washed off the rest with a tiny bar of soap.

  “You’re not going to need makeup this weekend,” Joshua said with confidence. “So now, let’s go swimming!” Melina grimaced at the prospect of an icy, evening plunge in the San Juan Channel.

  He stood up, but instead of walking toward the water, Joshua turned to the side of the cabin, pushing two large pieces of plywood off a round, wood-sided box. Steam rose from the box. A hot tub!

  Melina grabbed her glass and Joshua’s and followed him to their true swimming destination.

  “Did you really think I was going to make you swim in the channel?” Joshua asked, grinning. He pressed a button and bubbles roared to life in the tub.

  “Yes. And it’s cold.”