The Family You Choose

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  She turned her back to him. She couldn’t look at him without shaking. "That stunt with the bouncer was a nice touch, but the bathroom window escape was beneath you." She could feel the weight of his body behind her.

  "Play to your strengths—or your opponent’s weaknesses. Is it my fault you can’t help but get in to a fight at a club? And who’d have thought that you could get through that bathroom window?"

  "I broke it."

  "Thanks," she said, feeling her lips tingling. "One more thing you’ve taken away from me." She turned and forced herself to look at him. "What did you do, pay off a cabbie to trail me from the club?"

  She could practically feel his heart beat. "Something like that."

  "Is that supposed to be sexy? Hot? Romantic?" She shook her head. "Nope. Just back to creepy."

  "Like you said, play to your strengths."

  It was too much. "Alright!" she said loudly, throwing her hands up. "You win. You caught me. I can’t run as fast as you can. I can’t pay off anyone as well as you can. Now what do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

  He stared at her. "When was the last time you ate something?"

  He called for a cab and got in with her. She drew her knees into her chest. She wasn’t surprised when he gave the correct address for her hotel. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, willing the night to be a dream. But he was staring at her when she opened them, and she felt him looking at her even when she turned away.

  They took the elevator up to her room. He looked at her like he was about to say something, but then someone else walked in.

  They got into her room. She went into the bathroom. She splashed her face. By the time she was out, he’d had a pizza, orange juice and coffee delivered. "Eat something."

  "Go to Hell."

  "Drink some coffee."

  "What do you want?"

  "I want to say I’m sorry."

  "Damn, this is familiar!" She grabbed a piece of pizza and took a bite. "Isn’t this the same game we played last Saturday? You telling me you were sorry for being such a pig your whole life? Pretend I believed you now. What would happen next Friday?"

  He took a deep breath. "I staged what you walked into last night. I waited until I saw you coming down the street before I did anything with that girl, and she left as soon as I was sure you wouldn’t see her." He scoffed. "I’m not as proud of that as I thought I was going to be."

  "If you didn’t want to play anymore, all you had to do was say so. I mean, you could have driven me to Zainab’s, but I don’t think…"

  "I’m not playing!" She’d been a little afraid of him last Saturday when he’d gotten that close, but now she didn’t even blink. "I wasn’t playing. You have no idea what this last week was like for me."

  "Yeah, I think I do."

  "No, you don’t." She could feel how hard he was working not to touch her. "Was this really just sex?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I asked you what it was. You said sex."

  "We were in bed. Naked. And I asked you, and you didn’t answer."

  "You fell asleep."

  "So answer now."

  "I don’t know."

  "Then what are you being such a dick to me for?"

  "Because...I don’t know what it’s called when you want someone so badly on every level. I don’t know what it’s called when you can’t stop thinking about someone, and you know they’re thinking about you too. I don’t know what it’s called when that person doesn’t do anything except make you happy."

  "Luck."

  He smiled. "I don’t know why I should be so lucky."

  "Neither do I. And just for the record, don’t worry. You don’t make me happy anymore. Considering our history, I think you should just take last week and be happy with that."

  "I was happy." He took a step closer. She stepped back. "Were you really happy?"

  "What does it matter? Especially since you took such great pains to make me unhappy last night?"

  "Nothing—really—happened."

  Miranda threw her pizza at his white shirt. She was shaking again, but this time with anger. "You wanted to hurt me. You wanted to hurt me before. You did it. That is the one thing I can count on you to do, sooner or later. You make me feel better with sex—you make me feel amazing with sex—and then you use that to make me feel worse. You didn’t do anything—really—with someone else. You just wanted it to look that way. Next time you will for real. I can’t trust you. Whatever we had...two days ago...is totally gone. Kissing you, touching you—waiting for you to touch me—is never going to be what it was because it won’t be so amazing that you—you—could be so wonderful to me. It’s going to be just waiting for you to jerk me around again. Why don’t we just agree that that’s what would happen and move on?" She was blinking very fast. "No hard feelings, okay? I know—in your own way—you weren’t hurting me to hurt me. It’s just the way you are. And maybe someday you won’t be like this with someone else, and then you’ll really be happy and...really lucky." She took a deep breath. "I want that for you, I truly do."

  "You still loved Alex."

  "Ugh!" She pushed him in frustration. "Shut up about Alex already!" He grabbed her wrists.

  "You still loved Alex even when he paraded the flavor of the week in your face."

  Miranda blushed. "Wasn’t that different? We...it was just a crush. A one-way crush, thank you. He didn’t owe me anything."

  "But it hurt you anyway," he said, forcing her with his eyes to look at him. "I know. I saw. You loved him anyway."

  "And wasn’t that foolish?" she said, her lip starting to tremble.

  "I think you still love me," he said, barely above a whisper.

  "I don’t think I said anything about love." And now she was trying very hard to pull away.

  He didn’t let her. Her wrists hurt almost as much as they had that summer with the video camera. But she knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her this time. "You’re right. I did. And I think you still love me."

  "I don’t care what you think."

  "Then what about what I know?"

  "Speaking of which, how did you know where I was?"

  "You used to talk about this place all the time. I came here, I asked, I paid. I waited until I saw you leave and then I followed you."

  "Of course. Who reads a newspaper on a Saturday night?" She tried to pull away again. "What is wrong with you, you crazy, stalky creep?"

  "Don’t change the subject. I know you love me. And you know I love you."

  "This is crazy."

  "Tell me you love me."

  "It won’t change what you did or what you are."

  He smiled. "You’re crying."

  "You’re a sick bastard on top of everything else, you know that? You’re hurting me."

  He let go. She wiped her eyes. He kept smiling, kept staring. "I don’t want anyone else."

  "That’s not the point."

  "Should I have let you go home with that smarmy guy at the bar, or one of those losers at the club?"

  "Right—then we’d be even. And I don’t think you’re anyone to throw around terms like smarmy or loser."

  "Then you’re just looking for an excuse to be angry with me."

  "Sorry, Oscar Wilde, careful what you wish for."

  He sighed. "I didn’t know what to do," he said at last. "I don’t know what to do. Just tell me, and I’ll do whatever you want. I want you to be happy too."

  It was too hard to work at being angry. "Oh, Michael," she heard herself whisper. She reached out to him and stroked his arm with her fingertips through his shirt, then up to his shoulder, neck and cheek. She couldn’t stop herself. "Can’t you just be happy, Michael? Can’t you just let things be good?"

  He closed his eyes. "I’m trying. It’s hard when I know I don’t deserve you."

  "I don’t know," she said, trying to smile. "Someone who goes to all the trouble you did today deserves...something."

  He laughed and took the
sides of her head in his hands. He kissed the top of her head. He was crying too. "I am so sorry," he said, resting his cheek on her head. "I wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t real—at all. I haven’t even looked at anyone else. I haven’t wanted to."

  "Okay," she said. "Enough. I believe you."

  He put his finger under her chin. "And now’s the time to tell me that you weren’t really going to do anything with that guy at the bar."

  Miranda looked from side to side. "I was on my third drink. Very susceptible to suggestions."

  "Mmm hmm." Michael tickled her on her side. She retaliated and hit him with a pillow. They giggled as they fell onto the bed, then they looked at each other in silence. He wiped away the last of her tears.

  She touched the center of his chest. "Your shirt is dirty," she said softly. "You should take it off."

  He bit his lip and shook his head. "Nope. Not like that. If you want me, you have to tell me you want me, because I told you."

  "What was I doing this whole week?"

  "I don’t know. That’s my whole point."

  She touched his face, his neck, his chest. He closed his eyes. "I want you, Michael Abbot. I want you more than I ever wanted anything." He took a deep breath. "Anything or anyone."

  He kissed her forehead. She put her hands on his warm neck. "Tell me what happened this week," he said softly.

  "Which day? It changed, I think."

  "When did it change?" He kissed her cheeks, her nose. He kissed her neck and she tilted her chin up.

  "On Tuesday night," she sighed. "When I wanted to play, and it was okay. Or maybe on Sunday night, when you had to go to the hospital. Or when you let Alex punch you rather than give me up."

  "I wouldn’t give you up to anyone." He kissed her, and she thought she felt her heart jump out of her body. She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands over his broad shoulders. She could stay there forever.

  "When was it that for you?" she whispered.

  He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. He took off her tank top and unlatched her bra. "On Saturday night, as soon as I got to Zainab’s." He kissed her. "On Friday night, as soon as you left and I thought I’d go crazy knowing you’d been there and I’d let you go."

  He rolled her onto her back again. He took something out of his pocket and unbuttoned his pants, then slid off her skirt and tights. "So you’ve got me beat by two days," she whispered as she used her feet to slide off his pants and boxers.

  Now there was nothing but bare skin between them. "I’ve got you beat by a lifetime," he said, biting her neck to a point right on the edge of pleasure and pain. "I think you’ll have to spend a bit of time making it up to me."

  She moaned and dug her fingernails into his back. "What did you have in mind?"

  "Tell me what you want from me right now," he whispered.

  She moaned as he touched her. "I want you to show me what you feel."

  He kissed her on the neck. He’d found a new spot, and she thought she’d melt into the bed. She kissed him on the lips she’d come to love so much over the past week. He pulled away. "Just one more thing."

  "Yes?" she asked, rubbing her knee on his leg.

  "I want exactly the same thing."

  At two in the morning they were holding each other again. She felt warm again, and better than she had the last week. Better than her whole life.

  "What now?" he asked, kissing her hair.

  "Just a little sleep," she murmured.

  "That isn’t what I meant."

  "Sleep first, please." He didn’t need too much convincing, but he held her hand while they slept.

  CHAPTER 33

  Alex had wanted Tatiana to move in with him the night after the benefit. He wanted her to start planning the wedding. She smiled but she said no. "Not yet, darling. I just want a little more time. A little more time that I have you and no one else has to be invited in. Our own little world first, please?" And because he could refuse her nothing, he agreed.

  She met him at the address he gave her. It was a big house, much grander than Stephen and Annabelle’s. The door was opened by someone who introduced himself as Keith. "Wow," she said, standing in the front hall. "I didn’t think houses like this went for sale."

  Alex smiled. He’d never seen her genuinely impressed by anything. "Everyone got greedy and overextended a few years ago, even the people who used to own this house."

  Tatiana put her arms around his neck. "Ah, but not you, right? You’re too smart to be greedy."

  "Only greedy for one thing," he whispered. "And I make no apologies."

  Tatiana giggled. "This is a big house, Alex. What are you going to do with all this space?"

  "We," he said, giving her a peck on the lips, "are going to fill it up."

  "With what?"

  "With lots and lots of kids," he said. "I think you and I should have at least—let’s see—four, in the first couple of years. Just to start, and then we’ll see what else we can do."

  She beamed. "Oh, darling, that’s just what I wanted you to say, but I didn’t think you wanted children."

  "I never did until I met you. But a bunch of beautiful little kids with your hair and eyes—how could I say no?"

  She rolled her eyes a little bit. "But you know they’d probably look like you, right, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome?"

  He thought it over a minute. "Yeah, well, I bet they’ll still be as beautiful as their mother."

  "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

  "And as an added bonus, this is my excuse to keep you here so no one can ever take you away."

  "When are you going to stop and believe I’m yours?"

  "As soon as you are." He kissed her again, touching her face. "Come on," he whispered, "I want to show you the room I want to use for a study. Tell me what you think." She giggled again as he pulled her into the room off to the side and closed the door.

  CHAPTER 34

  Miranda and Michael showered at nine on Sunday morning, then got dressed and walked out of the hotel. Finally, Miranda was hungry. They walked to a little diner about five blocks away. Michael ordered ham, eggs and coffee and Miranda ordered pancakes and tea. Michael ate his breakfast quickly, but Miranda was still picking at her food when he was done.

  "What’s wrong?" he asked as he took her hand.

  She touched his face. "You’re scratchy."

  "I didn’t have time to grab my shaving kit. Is that what’s bothering you?"

  "No." She looked down at her half-eaten food. "I heard you last night. Your question."

  He smiled and took her other hand. "Any thoughts?"

  "Why are you always asking me, like I know?"

  "By definition, you’re better at these things than I am."

  "Then we have a problem, because I don’t know."

  He paid the check. They walked to Central Park, even though it was really too cold to be out for too long. He leaned against a stone building. "I don’t want you to be my secret anymore. I want to tell everyone about us."

  "Hmm. What do you want to say?"

  "I want to tell everyone that I love you. I want to tell everyone that you love me. I want you to stay with me. I want to tell Richard that we’re together and it’s not just okay, it’s really good. I want us to be...a couple. I want everyone to know that we’re together."

  "I can live with all of that, as long as you don’t get too specific about ‘really good.’"

  "And I want you to tell your friends about us."

  Miranda couldn’t breathe for a moment. She couldn’t look at him either. "Michael," she said at last, "I can forgive you for what’s happened before, but I can’t make anyone else do the same." She paused. "Especially the people you’ve hurt."

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. "So what does that mean?"

  "I don’t know."

  "What if you had to choose?"

  She looked up, incredulous. "Why, are you asking me to choose?"

  "I’m not. What if they did?"

 
"I already have, haven’t I?" she said, and for the first time she was filled with shame. "I haven’t seen Jessie—I can’t see Jessie—but I’ve known that if she ever found out about this she’d never forgive me. And Emily...Mitch would never let her come near me again if they knew that we were together."

  "Do you believe I’ve changed?"

  "Yes, but I can’t convince anyone else of that. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them how."

  "I know. And I’m sorry for that." He stroked her hair. "Do you really think you can live without them?"

  "I don’t want to," she said miserably, "but I...love you. And you make me happy." She kissed him. "And I don’t want you to be my secret either."

  "I want you to marry me."

  "What?!?" She looked at him to see if he wanted to correct his statement.

  "I want you to marry me," he repeated.

  "You know, it actually is socially acceptable these days for people to live together and even share a bed without the benefit of marriage."

  He shrugged. "But I don't want to do things that way. I want to be married."

  "Marriage?" she laughed. "It’s been a week, give or take a few days. The sex is-"

  "Incredible."

  "If you say so. Still not much of a judge."

  "We’ll have to fix that."

  "But everything else feels like it needs a little bit more ironing out. We’ve got years of damage to undo."

  "You believe that I love you?"

  "Yes."

  "You believe that I’ve changed?"

  "Yes."

  "And you’re happy with me?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you think someone else can make you happier?"

  "No."

  "Then marry me."

  "It’s not that simple."

  "It shouldn’t be any harder."

  "What’s the rush?"

  "I don’t want to lose you."

  "I’m supposed to trust you, but you don’t have to trust me?"

  "Are you still waiting for Alex?"

  "Where the Hell did that come from?"

  "He’s the only other person you loved."

  "Do you really not get the difference?"

  "I do," he conceded. "But then we should, if there’s no one else."