by Sarina Bowen
* * *
A half an hour later, I carried two glasses of wine out onto the condo’s balcony. This arrangement was my suggestion. There weren’t many summer nights left for me, and I wanted to sit under the stars with Zara. She followed me out, sliding the screen door closed behind her and setting the baby monitor down on the deck boards.
I sat down on the only piece of furniture, which was a giant metal lounge chair—wide enough for two people. The cushion on it had clearly seen better days, but I didn’t care. We could hear the river in front of us, and the gentle sounds of conversation rising up from the bar down below us.
“This is a great spot,” I said, moving over. “Sit down, prickly girl. Drink some wine with me and stop worrying. I can practically hear your gears turning in there.”
She gave me a sheepish smile. “I was just wondering why Benito still has this weird chair. He used to keep it in the woods behind the trailer where we lived in high school.”
“Huh,” I said, taking a sip of my cabernet. “Maybe it was his hookup spot. Good thing it’s dark so we can’t see the stains.”
“Ew, no.” Zara laughed. “I think he used to just sit out there and think. We Rossis are a brooding bunch.”
“I noticed that.” I put an arm around her shoulders. “But maybe he only kept this thing because it’s comfortable.”
She tucked herself in beside me and took a sip of her wine. “All right. Point taken. This is a nice spot.”
“Hey—do you own furniture?” I asked her, wondering about all those empty rooms in the Tudor we now owned.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Zara,” I said, dropping my voice. “I asked you a question, and that’s not an answer.”
“It’s a reflex,” she said grumpily. “I don’t like to complain. No, I don’t have furniture. Not for adults, anyway. Nicole is all set, though. Her crib is the kind that will convert to a toddler bed later, and she has a dresser and a rocking chair. I’ll buy a mattress for myself next week. And that’s really all we need for now. I’ll work on getting some living room furniture this fall.”
“Don’t suppose you’d let me help you with that…”
“Nope,” she said quickly. “A girl’s got to pick her own furniture.”
“Right.” I smiled into the darkness. “But if I manage to get up here to visit you this fall, we’re gonna need a nice big bed. King size. And a couch in the living room and maybe another one in front of that fireplace off the kitchen, so if I visit in the winter we can sit there in front of the fire and watch it snow outside.” I gave her a little nudge. “Am I allowed to assume you’ll open the door if I visit?”
“You know I will.” She sighed. “But I was serious when I said you need to do some thinking before you do more planning.”
“I will. And I’m not dumb enough to get between a girl and her furniture. But you’re going to need a bed frame and whatever else goes in a bedroom. Oh—and stools for that counter in the kitchen so I have somewhere to park my ass while we’re making dinner.” I was on a roll. “And a table. I forgot the table and chairs. I have to eat during my visits. When I’m not playing with Nicole or fucking you right into that king-sized mattress.”
“That all sounds nice,” she said, “especially that last part. But it sounds like you’re angling for a long-distance relationship. And this from a guy who said he’d never had a relationship? What if you hate it? What if you realize that once a month isn’t enough exercise in that king-sized bed?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I rubbed her palm with mine. “The minute I leave Vermont, I’ll be thinking dirty thoughts about you in Brooklyn. Lying in bed, stroking myself, wondering when you’re going to come and visit me.”
“That’s just the horny talking.”
“Yes and no,” I said truthfully. “You bring out a different kind of horny in me—the kind that wants to buy furniture as well as fuck on it. The kind that would rather be a patient man. Because you’re worth it, honey.”
She went still beside me. “That’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.”
“Well, I meant it. I’ve been single a long time. And it’s not because I need to have a lot of casual sex with strangers. It’s because I didn’t know I could be part of something better.” I was laying it on pretty thick. But I meant every word. And I’d rather say these things in person, even if Zara wasn’t quite ready to believe me.
“You have to remember how it looks from where I sit,” she whispered. “One time I asked you if you had a family—because I was really hoping I wasn’t unwittingly half of an affair. You said ‘Fuck no. Never have been and never will be.’ So forgive me for being a little skeptical now.”
Beside her, I flinched. “Yeah. Not the most encouraging attitude, right?”
“No.”
Well, shit. I’d already given Zara every reason to think I’d leave her. Not only had I done so for two years, but I’d sworn up and down that I was a no-strings guy. There was no way I could take all that back. My only move was to show her I meant business. And that meant going back to Brooklyn without any promises from her.
“Still love you,” I said quietly. “It’s just that I’m like those green pears you brought Audrey. You had to pick me before I was ripe.”
Zara actually choked on the sip of wine she had been trying to take. One hand over her mouth, she started to sputter. And then to laugh.
I whacked her on the back. “Breathe, gorgeous. It wasn’t that funny.”
“It was…too,” she gasped.
“I’m a slow learner, that’s all.”
Zara clutched her wineglass and giggled, and I had to kiss her to calm her down.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zara
Maybe it wasn’t Dave that I didn’t trust, but happiness itself. As we kissed, my eyes burned with emotion even as my body heated up. Strong arms encircled me, and I straddled him happily.
It was so very good between us tonight. But could we really survive a lengthy separation?
In my gut, I just didn’t trust it.
Dave lifted my skirt right there on the lounge chair and pulled my panties down. Wordlessly, I unzipped him. It wasn’t two minutes later when I pressed up on my knees so he could line up his cock beneath me. But instead of filling myself with him the way that I wanted to, I teased him mercilessly, lowering myself centimeter by centimeter. It was torture for both of us, and I eased myself with kisses.
He groaned into my mouth. “Quit this teasing and fuck yourself on me.” He grabbed my hips, but I clenched my thighs and stayed strong.
“The way I see it,” I whispered, “You just volunteered for a lot of self-torture this fall. Now’s your chance to practice.” I slid down another fractional inch.
He leaned his head back on the chair and sighed. “Is it all gonna feel like this? Maybe I won’t mind at all.”
It wouldn’t, though. We both knew it. So I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. I lowered my body over his until I’d taken him as deeply as I could, and then paused as we stared into each other’s heavy-lidded eyes.
“Need you, Zara.” His voice was strained. “Nobody else but you.”
Oh, wow. Those heated words were impossible to ignore. I kissed him deeply, and my hips set a pace that pleased us both. “Sweet-talker,” I murmured against his lips.
“It worked, right?” he panted, then smiled at me.
That smile, damn it. I missed him already.
“Don’t think,” he whispered, punctuating the command with a kiss. “Just feel.”
It was good advice, so I did.
* * *
I opened the bakery the next morning. Now that Audrey had been back a little while, it was a pleasure because I wasn’t so tired. Griffin had sent over the first half-bushel of early apples, so I peeled and diced them into muffin batter that I’d seasoned with ginger and cinnamon.
The kitchen smelled wonderful.
I wasn’t the only one on the early shift. Dave a
nd Nicole would wake up together again today, as they’d done several times lately, sparing my brother Alec the early morning babysitting shift.
I had hoped Alec appreciated it, but he’d never said so. He still hadn’t said one nice thing about Dave.
Because I didn’t enjoy drama, it was still my habit to leave Kieran in charge behind the counter and relieve Dave of babysitting duty just before my mother showed up for her babysitting shift. If my mother had wondered why I was waiting for her instead of Alec, she didn’t ask.
But this morning we’d had a rush of espresso orders. As Kieran and I hurried to shorten the line of caffeine junkies at the counter, I’d lost track of time. I was late getting out the door—late enough to bump into my mother in the parking lot as she got out of her car.
Whoops.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, tucking her keys into her bag. “You need something upstairs?”
“Well, no.” I cleared my throat. “I was just going to say goodbye to Dave before he goes.”
“Oh,” she said, stepping backward suddenly. Then, “I see.” And a sigh. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Do you really have to ask? “If I didn’t want him upstairs, he wouldn’t be there.”
“Yet he’s leaving in three days?”
“Yes. For now. We’re probably going to make some plans to see each other soon.” I hated the hopeful sound of those words as they came out of my mouth. “I know it won’t be easy. Maybe I’m setting myself up for disaster.”
She lifted one perfectly tweezed eyebrow in question. “Like your foolish mother?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Mom actually rolled her eyes. “You said that quite a few times. Loudly. So did all of your brothers. When you were teenagers you were so mad at me for waiting around for your father.”
Oh, good lord. I didn’t want to have this fight again. “I’m sorry for whatever horrible things I said at seventeen. Trust me, if I could redo that decade of my life, I would. And fate is obviously having a chuckle at my expense right now.”
My mother tossed her purse onto the hood of her car and sighed. “Maybe not, sweetheart. Dave might surprise us both. He’s already put a roof over your heads, which is more than your father ever managed.”
“He is a good man,” I said, realizing that I’d never doubted that. What I doubted was his ability to love me the way I wanted to be loved. “Maybe our issues are entirely different from yours.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. And when Nicole is grown and pining for some unavailable man, you’ll know just how it feels.”
“Ouch,” I said. “Touché.”
She shook her head. “My point is that you’ll empathize, whether hers is a good man or not. My heart breaks for all my children. And I will try not to look at your man and see your father. Dave is a hard worker, I’ll give him that. There’s no way to succeed in professional sports without a lot of self-discipline.”
“That’s true.” And Mom had just become the first Rossi to say something nice about Dave.
“Your father couldn’t stick to anything,” she went on. “He never held down a job, because he was too easily offended if the boss didn’t like his work. And everything that went wrong was someone else’s fault. Usually mine.”
I flinched, because it was true. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Me too, honey. Me too.” She grabbed her purse again. “I guess we can’t choose who we love. So I will go up there and be civil to him and hope for the best.”
“Thank you,” I said, as I always did. But this time it meant a little more. “Thank you for giving him a chance.”
She gave me a rueful smile and marched toward the private entrance.
And I went back into the coffee shop to make more espresso drinks.
* * *
The following day, Benito agreed to sit with Nicole for the evening so Dave and I could go out together. “Date Night!” Benito teased me.
But that’s exactly what it was. Strangely enough it was our first date. We’d done everything backwards.
We decided to start Date Night at a furniture store in Burlington, as if we were an old married couple. Dave made me laugh by testing all the mattresses. “This one is nice,” he said. “Lie down.”
“They’re all the same,” I complained. “Can you really tell the difference?”
He tugged me down one-handed. “I can. I like this one, but do you think it’s too firm?”
“It’s fine,” I said, just like I had for the last five he’d tried.
“Okay. Sold.” Then he rolled over and gave me a kiss. A hot one.
Embarrassed, I wiggled away. “We’ll try it out properly after it’s delivered.”
He gave me that smile that I’d do anything for.
After picking out a coffee table—but not a couch, because I didn’t like the choices—we went out to dinner at Hen of the Wood, one of Burlington’s finest restaurants. Dave draped his arm over the back of his chair, looking like a satisfied king, while I admired him in the candlelight.
“When are you going to move in to the new house?” he asked me. “I wish I could help you.”
“Benito will help me,” I promised him. “He wants his apartment back.”
Under the table, his leg rubbed against my ankle. “Don’t tell him we broke in that deck chair.”
“I would never!” I yelped, and he laughed.
His phone beeped. He glanced at the text but then put it away. Unfortunately, it beeped again during dessert, and then rang in the parking lot.
“Sorry,” he sighed. “But I don’t think they’re going to let it go.”
“Who is it?”
“The team doctor’s assistant.”
“At this hour?”
“Yup.” He tapped the screen. “There are no regular business hours in professional hockey. Let me just return her call.”
I watched his face as a female voice spoke rapidly into his ear. “Tomorrow?” he asked warily. “I’m five hours away, though.”
The yapping went on, while his frown deepened, and my stomach dropped.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “If that’s the way it’s gotta be.”
He ended the call a minute later and looked at me, his face grim. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“You have to go tomorrow?” That was two days early. I’d been counting on those days.
“I do. They got me an appointment with a specialist to talk about my shoulder.”
“And it has to be tomorrow?” I could hear a note of hysteria in my voice.
“Yeah.” He cringed. “They’d told me it would be this week, but I didn’t know they’d schedule it for before training camp began. It’s partly my fault.”
Can’t you tell them you’re busy? The argument was on the tip of my tongue. But I wasn’t going to say it, because I knew in my gut that Dave would stay two more days with me if he could. Somehow I’d gotten myself to a place where I could at least be sure of that.
Hallelujah. I was learning.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “When do you need to leave?”
“Well…” He looked at the Timex on his wrist. “I have to pack. If I drive away from the cabin at four-thirty, I can make it back in time.”
“Four-thirty…”
“In the morning,” he said with a grimace.
“Okay,” I said more firmly than I had before. “I’ll help you pack.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” If he and I were going to consider a long-distance relationship, I might as well get used to it.
* * *
Benito looked up from the television when we walked in the door. “Good dinner?” he asked.
“Yeah, but don’t get up,” I said. “Would you stay here tonight with Nicole?”
He blinked. “Okay.”
“I’m changing the sheets on your bed,” I said, walking away before he could make a snarky comment about why I might need to
do that for him.
After that little task, I looked around the room for Dave’s things. He’d left a shirt and a pair of flip flops.
And his fancy watch. It was still on the bedside table where we’d left it after I’d showed it to him. “Never really liked that thing,” he’d said with a chuckle. “Except it taught me that spending money on bling wasn’t really my style.”
I left it on the bedside table like a talisman, and grabbed my nightgown and toothbrush to spend the night at Dave’s cabin.
Dave was not in the living room when I went back out there. Nor the kitchen.
I found him in the baby’s room, standing quietly in the dark, looking down at his sleeping child. While I hovered in the doorway, he bent down to lift the blanket over her sprawled out body, and whisper something I couldn’t hear.
Tears sprang into the corners of my eyes, and I left the doorway quickly to blink them away.
“Okay,” he said when he joined me in the living room. “Shall we?”
“When are you coming back?” Benito asked, his eyes on the Red Sox game.
“He’s shipping out at four-thirty,” I said. “So I can come back whenever.”
Benito looked up. “Oh. Fuck.”
Right.
He stood and held out a hand. “Hope to see you back here again.”
“You can count on it,” Dave said to me as much as to Benny. “Thanks for the babysitting. You know, for the last sixteen months.”
Benito grinned. “It was really my pleasure. I’m the favorite uncle for sure. Got the trophy and everything.”
He waved us off, and I followed Dave out the door.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dave
The minute I told Zara I had to leave, everything began to feel wrong.
She was a trooper, though. My Zara put her game face on and did what needed doing. I fell a little more in love with her as she straightened her spine against yet another disappointment and followed me in her crappy little car to the cabin.