Crossing In Time: The 1st Disaster (Between Two Evils Series)

by Orton, D. L.

  I scan the thinning crowd. “I don’t need any more drama today.”

  “Oh, come on. Drama is just life with the dull bits cut out.”

  “Well, I’m ready for a long patch of boredom.”

  He laughs, deep and resonant. “We can order cheese pizza, lite beer, and vanilla ice cream. What do you say?”

  I gaze at his soft, full lips and then meet his eyes. “Don’t you have to be someplace?”

  “I was supposed to meet a client, but his flight was canceled.” He places my hand around his arm. “So I already have dinner reservations for two. And I promise, no drama.”

  I stare at him, unnerved by the intense emotions he stirs up in me.

  “It’s not far,” he says, “just past the Brown Palace Hotel, and we have plenty of time to walk. But if you sprained your ankle, we can snag a cab—”

  “It’s fine, Diego. I have a medical degree, remember?”

  “Yeah, I do. Could have been a doctor but didn’t have the patience.” He places his left hand on top of mine. “So, shall we?” He’s not wearing a wedding ring, and I feel a rush of hopeful anticipation, something I haven’t felt in a long time.

  Careful there, Isabel. Lots of men don’t wear wedding rings. He could be married with four kids and a dog named Sparky.

  The thought is like a hot coal in my chest.

  He looks over at me, his expression concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, Captain America.” I take a tentative step, determined not to show the least bit of discomfort.

  “You want a piggyback ride?”

  I glare at him. “That would definitely involve drama.”

  “Nonsense. You’re only saying that because it always has.”

  I laugh. “God, I’ve missed you.” It tumbles out before I can stop it.

  He stares at me for a moment, his eyes glossy. “Ditto.”

  The sun disappears behind a tall building, and a light breeze flits down the busy street. I turn and take another step, leaning against him as we navigate the crowded sidewalk.

  Despite everything, a sultry tingling forms in my core.

  You swore off men, remember?

  It seems the Brown Palace is closed for renovations but is sponsoring an “adopt a pet” event for the local Humane Society, and we gaze at puppies and kittens behind plate-glass windows as we stroll along. When we reach the end of the block, we stop and watch a black kitten attack a stuffed animal twice her size. When she sees us, she trots over to the glass, dragging the dinosaur with her.

  I lean over and tap on the glass. “Hey, kitty girl. Nice work slaying the beast.”

  She steps on the T-Rex’s toothy head and gives a silent meow.

  A door at the back of the display opens, and a man lifts the kitten up, strokes her head, and then places her back into a cage. The display looks dreary without her, and a lonely sadness creeps into my heart. I retake Diego’s arm, grateful for his physical presence. “I wish I could take them all home with me.”

  “Well, I don’t know about all of them, but I’d be happy to buy you the kitten. By the looks of it, you two have a lot in common.”

  I lean my head against his shoulder. “Thanks, but I can’t have pets where I live.”

  “Ah.” An uneasiness spreads into his arm. “You married Dave, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Two years after you and I broke up.”

  “But you don’t wear a ring.” His voice is flat. “Even though you’re married.”

  “I divorced Dave and his three lawyers an hour ago.”

  He chuckles. “That explains the bad coffee.”

  “Yeah, I definitely should have brought my own latte—and my own attorney. I pretty much signed over everything except my patents and my underwear.”

  “I imagine he’ll be back for those.”

  “My underwear or my patents?”

  “If I remember correctly, both.”

  I blush, and then clear my throat. “So how about you? Married? Passel of kids? Dog named Sparky?”

  He stops and opens a large, heavy door. “Here we are. Elevators to the left.”

  I walk in and gaze at the cavernous marble and glass lobby of a mailbox-shaped skyscraper. “We’re having dinner here?”

  “Yep. It’s a hotel, and there’s restaurant at the top. The guy I was supposed to meet is from Chicago, and I thought he’d enjoy the view.”

  I give him a dubious look. “That sounds expensive.”

  “I was planning to order from the kid’s menu.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Come on, Iz. I can afford it.” He steps away, pushes the elevator button, and then offers me his arm. “And no, I’m not married. Never got over the last girlfriend.”

  Chapter 2

  Isabel: Not in This Universe

  We’re seated at a small table next to floor-to-ceiling windows. The setting sun peeks out through wispy, silver-lined clouds, bathing the Mile High City in golden light. A volcano in Yellowstone has been spewing ash for weeks, and despite the impact on the air quality, the Rockies look stunning, their snowy peaks airbrushed in rich orange hues and their lower flanks splashed in shades of purple.

  “Wow,” I say. “Nice gloaming. And it is an amazing view.”

  “You know, Iz, you’re the only person I know who says shit like ‘gloaming.’” He holds up his hands. “But you’re right, the Rockies put on an excellent show—almost as good as La Isla Beach.”

  “Well, I’d love to see the sunset that can beat this.”

  He sets his napkin in his lap. “Okay. I’ll take you there.”

  I stare at him for a moment and then glance away, feeling a familiar but painful tug on my heart. “This is not a date, Diego.”

  He reaches across the linen tablecloth, dodging a lit candlestick, repositioning a goblet of ice water, and sliding a dessert spoon out of the way. “I’ve played futbol teams with a weaker defense than this table.” He slips his fingertips underneath mine. “Thanks for saying yes.”

  “I didn’t. But thanks for asking.”

  He caresses my hand, his eyes downcast. “Did you have somewhere you needed to be tonight?”

  “I should say yes, but the truth is, not only did you save me from the Exhaust Grate of Doom, you rescued me from an evening of Swamp Biome Hell—matching alligator genomes with a box full of loose teeth, sharp claws, and desiccated skin.”

  “I hope he won’t mind too much,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to make a man-eating reptile jealous.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Although now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure I met that guy the first time I asked you out.” He shrugs. “He obviously didn’t age well.”

  “Right.”

  “But you haven’t aged a day.”

  I pull my hand away. “Liar.”

  “Cynic.”

  “You always were too sentimental, Diego.”

  “And you’re too pessimistic, Iz. That and goddamn impatient.” He takes my hand again. “Not to mention obstinate, arrogant, and a royal pain in the ass. Just my type.”

  I glare at him.

  “Well at least I didn’t eat all your chocolate or leave the toilet seat up.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “you’re one in a million.”

  “Did I mention how much I’ve missed you?” He tips his head, his eyes dancing across my face. “The way you roll your eyes when you don’t believe me, and the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking, and especially the soft sigh you make when I kiss you.”

  I turn away. “Diego, don’t.”

  He strokes my cheek, his touch electric. “And I love it when you blush. It reminds me there’s a vulnerable woman inside that warrior armor.”

  I stare at my hands, still trying to get my emotions back und
er control.

  “Did you hear about the silkworm race?”

  I glance at him, frowning, but unable to resist.

  “It ended in a tie.”

  I laugh and try to turn it into a scowl.

  “Iz.” He pulls my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “What do you say we call it a tie? Start over, and see if we can make it work this time?”

  My breath catches in my throat, all sorts of conflicting emotions raging around inside my head.

  “And you do look beautiful.” He moves his lips across my fingers. “I can’t believe I found you.”

  A deep longing fills me, but I force it right back where it came from. “So. How did you find me?”

  “I was sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for a call from Mr. Chicago, when I saw you come out of the building across the street. I couldn’t believe my eyes, so I followed you. And when I saw you teetering along in those high heels, I knew it was you.”

  “Damn pumps. I don’t know what I was thinking when I put them on.”

  “I always did prefer you naked,” he says, “but I can understand how that would be inconvenient when meeting with divorce lawyers. No place to stick your shark gun.”

  I roll my eyes again.

  He strokes the back of my hand with his fingertip. “By the way, congratulations on winning the Gruber. I read about it last week.”

  I glance down at where he’s touching me. “Since when do you pay attention to obscure genetics awards?”

  “I don’t. But I think that makes you the most decorated biome expert in the world.”

  “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.” I pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let go.

  “How about a bottle of champagne to celebrate?”

  “No. But thanks.”

  “I insist.” Without letting go of my hand, he catches the waiter’s attention and orders a bottle of Dom Pérignon. I give him an exasperated look, and he raises his eyebrow. “What?”

  “For a guy who spends all his time in a T-shirt and jeans, you seem very relaxed ordering expensive wine in a lavish restaurant.”

  “Well maybe I’ve changed a bit since the last time we went out. It’s not our abilities that show who we really are, it’s our choices.”

  “Nice British accent.”

  “Come home with me, Iz.”

  I stare at him.

  “This is the point where you blush and say yes.”

  “No, it isn’t.” I jerk my hand away. “You said no drama, and this is definitely drama.”

  “I’m asking if you want to come home with me, drama optional. You know: naked bodies, sweaty wrestling, sultry sighs—all of it nice and boring.”

  “Hah.”

  He leans forward. “Didn’t you ever miss that? What we had together? Did you ever find that with anyone else?” He glances back and forth between my eyes. “Because I didn’t, and believe me, I tried.”

  “I’m not interested in getting hurt again, Diego.”

  “What about all the good times, Iz? The day at San Gregorio beach, and the polyester party, and the first night I made you chocolate cake, remember? We wrestled on the couch until we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe?”

  “Yeah, I remember. And I remember that you made me fall in love with you and then hopped on a plane when I needed you most.” I let the old anger leak back into my voice. “For weeks after you left, I cried every time I walked by your office, or smelled your aftershave, or heard someone say your name.”

  His smile fades.

  I look away, tears in my eyes. “So maybe you can jump right back into the wild sex part, but I can’t.”

  He leans back and crosses his arms. “You mean, unless it’s with some guy you just met.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That night with Dave was a betrayal of everything I felt for you, Isabel, and you know it. After you told me, I thought it would be easier to die than endure the pain.” He shakes his head. “And you couldn’t understand why it made me so angry, why I couldn’t just forgive you right then and there and move on.”

  I can’t breathe.

  “I was in love with you, Iz. Crazy, over-the-top, raving-lunatic in love with you, and you threw it all away for one cheap fuck with a guy you just met. And all because I had other plans.”

  I push my chair back.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I take a ragged breath, forcing back tears. “For your information, we didn’t have sex. I told you I slept with him, and I meant exactly that.”

  “Christ, Isabel, what did you expect me to think? You wanted me to assume you had sex with him. You were trying to make me jealous.”

  “It was a mistake, okay? Perhaps the worst mistake of my life. But you were out with another woman!”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was having dinner with two friends, and you damn well knew it.” He takes my hand in both of his. “Whether or not you had sex is irrelevant. You knew I felt betrayed.” He looks up, his face pained. “Couldn’t you have given me a couple of days to sort out my feelings before you cut me off forever?”

  I stand up. “I can’t do this again, Diego.” I turn away, but he grabs my wrist, and I let out a startled cry. The people at the tables around us look over, and he releases his grip and takes my hand.

  “I loved you, Iz, and I was desperate to find a way to make it work between us. But you wouldn’t give me a chance. You hung up on my calls and ignored my texts. You refused to answer the door when I went to your apartment and pretended I didn’t exist at work—even told my boss I was harassing you.”

  I had forgotten about that.

  “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

  He shuts his eyes for a moment and then exhales. “It killed me every time I watched you leave work with Dave, knowing he was your new lover.” He looks at me. “So don’t go lecturing me about how rough it was on you, because there’s not a single day that goes by when I don’t wish it could have turned out differently.”

  “Well it was no picnic for me either.” Tears spill down my cheeks, but I don’t wipe them away. “When I found out you were leaving, I followed you to the airport, hoping I could apologize, explain things, and convince you stay. But when you saw me, you turned and walked away.”

  “Yeah, well, I was fed up with playing your games and being treated like I was sh—”

  “I was pregnant.”

  The blood leaves his face.

  “I found out the night before.”

  “Christ, Isabel, why didn’t you tell me?”

  I pull my hand out of his. “I just did.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

  “Yeah. Well, it’s a bit late for the guilt and pity treatment.”

  The waiter appears with the champagne, opens the bottle, and pours it while we sit in painful silence. He nods at Diego. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

  “Give us a few minutes, please.”

  “Take your time.” The waiter sets the bottle in a bucket of ice and disappears.

  Diego runs his hand through his hair. “You should have told me, Iz.” He rubs his face with his hands, the muscles in his neck jumping, and then forces himself to look at me. “So what did you do?”

  “I had an abortion. Dave canceled a trip to Europe so he could take me. He stayed with me at the clinic, paid for everything, and when I finally stopped vomiting, he drove me home and held me while I cried all night.” I squeeze my eyes shut, the memory still harrowing after all these years.

  “Christ.”

  I take a ragged breath and wipe my face on my napkin. “And before you say it: No, he didn’t talk me into it. It was my decision.”

  He turns away, his face contorted with anguish. “I don’t know what to say.”

 
I stand up. “I’m sorry, Diego, but we’re just not meant to be—not in this universe anyway. Whatever chance we had, died when you got on that plane.”

  He doesn’t meet my eyes.

  I grab my purse and the goddamn divorce folio, and try not to limp as I walk out.

  Chapter 3

  Diego: The Fire & the Furry

  I sit and stare at her untouched glass of champagne, feeling exhausted and adrift.

  Why didn’t you tell me, Iz?

  When the waiter comes over, I let him know there’s been a change of plans, and we won’t be staying for dinner. He has the good grace not to look annoyed. “Not a problem, sir. Shall I recork the champagne?” I nod and he goes to get the check.

  I take the napkin off her plate and lift it to my face, breathing in the scent of the woman I have loved since the first time I held her in my arms.

  Why didn’t you give me a chance to make it right, Isabel?

  I peer out into the darkening sky, feeling miserable, my vision blurry.

  I would have come back in a heartbeat—even if you hadn’t been pregnant. All you had to do was ask.

  Even this afternoon, it’s like everything I do gets turned into some sort of elaborate screw-up: my help embarrasses her, my restaurant choice is too expensive, my compliments are false, my apology too little, too late. It’s almost like being with her is a convoluted and never-ending test. One that she makes sure I fail.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes.

  Why are you so determined to make me be in the wrong, Iz?

  And then it all becomes painfully clear.

  She’s so afraid of rejection that she jumps ship before anyone can push her overboard.

  “I am such an idiot.”

  I stand up, determined to go after her and make things right—make things work—and there’s a loud boom. The whole building shudders and then starts swaying. Almost in slow motion, the ice bucket tips over, and a puddle spreads out around my feet.

  “Oh shit.”

  I stare at the sea of swaying tablecloths, and a mental image of the collapse of the Twin Towers pushes up panic in my chest. The restaurant is forty-one stories above the street, enclosed in massive panes of glass.