“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I would be honored”—he opened the box, revealing a perfect two-carat emerald-cut diamond, flanked by slender sapphire baguettes—“if you would become my wife.”
And that’s when I had the weirdest thought possible.
Nate.
Holy cow, where did that come from? I hadn’t thought about him in ages.
I mean, he was there in my subconscious, obviously. Part of my experience in life. Periodically I had dreams about him—sometimes hot, sexual dreams and sometimes typical disjointed dreams where I’d pass him in the hall where he was watering the trash cans—and they’d always disconcert me a little but … that was normal, right? He’d been a big part of my life once, of course he’d be floating around in my subconscious.
That was different from really thinking about him.
This was terrible timing.
I was being proposed to by a great-looking, successful, young, vibrant, available (not a given anymore) man—he was telling me he wanted to commit his life to being with me and only me!
This was not the time to be thinking of a guy who’d left so long ago.
A new dialogue started in my head, one shooing Nate away in order to give me the brainpower to think of an answer, or a way to stall, for Rick. Instead, it all came out as one big, jumbled mess. “I—I—I have to use the ladies’ room. Oh, look, we’re here.” The car drew to a halt outside Naveen’s, just in the nick of time. “Boy, that was a quick drive.”
Rick was looking flummoxed. And who could blame him? “Erin, I just proposed to you.”
I grimaced, probably only adding insult to injury. “I know.”
The driver opened the door next to me.
“Not yet,” Rick said sharply, and the driver, seeing what was going on—anyone seeing the scene could have known exactly what was going on—slammed the door shut.
I focused on Rick. “Look, I’m shocked. I mean, maybe I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t, and it’s not like in movies and books where you just have the perfect response at the ready, because I just wasn’t ready. You had time to prepare.” I gestured at the ring box. “You really prepared. It’s beautiful. You must have known what you were going to say for days now.”
“Weeks.”
“Weeks! There you go.” How had I missed it? I hadn’t detected even a tiny sign of this. Was he that good at being covert or was I that blind to things that were going on right under my nose? “But I’m on the spot. Not in a bad way,” I hastened to add. “Oh, Rick.” I sighed. “I’m so sorry. I’ve made a mess of this.”
He chuckled uneasily. “I understand. But my knee is starting to hurt sitting here like this, so do you have an answer?”
I swallowed hard. It would have been wise to say yes right away, to yank this fantastic man off the market before he realized what he was doing and rescinded the proposal. But I couldn’t. I let out an unsteady breath. “No,” I began.
He groaned irritably and snapped the box shut, moving over onto the seat next to me. “I knew I should have talked to you about this first. It’s too soon. Something in me told me that.”
“Wait,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean no I won’t marry you, I meant no I don’t have an answer yet.”
He brightened fractionally. “So it’s not a no?”
I shook my head and smiled. “No, it’s not a no.”
“Which means it could be a yes.”
My stomach tightened. I swallowed again. “It could. I just … need to think. To process. There are so many considerations.” I was in danger of expounding upon that ridiculously, so I pressed my lips together for a moment, then simply said, “I hope that’s okay.”
“Beats the hell out of a no.”
I gave the brightest smile I could muster, as if I were a normal woman who was thrilled to receive a proposal from a wonderful man. Not a woman who had just received a proposal from a wonderful man and thought immediately of a guy who’d dumped her twenty-three years earlier.
“So what do you say we get fortified?” Rick asked. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. A few drinks.”
The relief I felt at his practical tone was enormous. “Sounds like a great plan.”
Rick opened the door, ignoring the driver, who was standing by outside waiting to do that for him. He got out of the car, then turned and took my hand, helping me out only a little more gracefully than I’d tumbled in.
Rick gave instructions to the driver about our return, and we went into Naveen’s ornate interior.
It was the most expensive meal I’ve ever not tasted.
Chapter 5
July 1986
Another clear summer night.
Erin was newly sixteen and had all the freedom in the world, because her parents were gone for the weekend.
Of course, there was the problem of Aunt Cheryl, her father’s sister, who was staying with her because they thought she was too young to stay alone. But Aunt Cheryl had actually turned out to be kind of cool. Where Erin had always thought Aunt Cheryl hadn’t married because she’d missed her chance and life had passed her by, she was, in fact, a lot younger and more vibrant than Erin had realized. Although, to be fair, Erin hadn’t really seen her since she was about seven, and at seven every adult seems ancient.
Turned out Aunt Cheryl was forty-five and had a boyfriend who, even to Erin’s discriminating eye, was pretty hot. For a forty-five-year-old. He looked like Magnum P.I. but without the big mustache.
So the good thing about Aunt Cheryl was that she was so youthful. That turned out to be the bad thing too, since Erin wanted Nate to come over once Cheryl was asleep, and at 10:07 P.M.—and counting—that didn’t seem to be anywhere close to happening.
“So you have a boyfriend?” Cheryl asked, coming into Erin’s room. She was wearing a nightshirt and had her hair pulled back, so she was obviously close to either turning in for the night or mud wrestling.
Erin nodded, tucking her still-clothed body closer under the covers so, if all else failed, she could claim she was going to sleep, lock the door, and climb out through the balcony and trellis. “Nate.”
“What’s he like?”
Erin drew in a breath. She wanted Cheryl to sleep so she could see him, but, on the other hand, she loved to talk about Nate. “He’s wonderful,” she said, so ridiculously dreamy that she added, “really nice. Really.”
“Really.” Cheryl smiled. “Is he cute?”
“I think so. He’s perfect.” She thought of him, the mix of perfections and imperfections that he was, and how it made her feel when she looked at him. She gave an involuntary shudder. “He’s perfect,” she repeated wistfully, reflexively touching her chest where a locket with his picture in it hung beneath her shirt.
Cheryl chuckled. “Enjoy this while you can. You only have one first love.”
“I didn’t say I love him,” Erin objected, but it was the diminishing term “first love” that bothered her. Because she did love Nate. But not in a “first love” sort of way—that implied puppy dogs and shared milkshakes and a small smile with the shake of a head later, musing over this tender, innocent time.
That wasn’t how it was at all. She wanted to be with him forever. She wanted to see him get older, hear his opinion on changing world events forever; she wanted him to meet her at the altar, hold her hand through childbirth, and sit in a rocking chair next to her in old age. Somehow the assumption that that was where they were going had lodged in her mind, and Aunt Cheryl’s implication that it might be a passing thing made her hackles rise.
“But I do,” she heard herself say. “I do love him.”
“Of course you do!”
Ugh. There it was again. That I-know-more-than-you, someday-you’ll-understand smugness. Made worse by the fact that she obviously didn’t mean it as smugness. She just thought she was stating a fact that they’d both agree on later.
Erin would never agree that this was just “first love.”
/> Aunt Cheryl must have picked up on her discontent, because she lowered her brow and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” She didn’t mean for it to sound like a pointed nothingggg but it did, even to her ear. She tried to soften it with, “I’m just tired.”
That seemed to satisfy Cheryl. “Me too.” She yawned, as if on cue. “Good night, sweetie.” She came forward in a cloud of Shalimar perfume and bent down to kiss Erin’s cheek. “Sleep tight.”
“You too.” Erin slunk deeper under the covers and tried to make her eyelids look heavy. “Could you hit the light on your way out?”
“Sure thing.” Cheryl hit the switch and the room was cloaked in darkness. “See you in the morning.”
Erin remained silent, hoping to perhaps give the impression that she’d already knocked off.
Then she waited in bed, fingering the locket on her necklace and listening to the cicadas outside her open window, until Cheryl had stopped moving around in her parents’ room.
She reached for the phone and dialed his number, as she’d done a million times in the dark.
He answered after the slightest chirp of a ring. “Hey.”
“Oh, my God, my aunt would not go to bed.”
He laughed. “She’s keeping an eye on you.”
“Not a very good one, I hope. Come in half an hour?”
“I don’t know.” He gave an exaggerated yawn. “I’m getting kind of tired.”
“Yeah? Maybe I should call someone else.”
He never thought that joke was funny. “I’ll be there.”
“Okay, but wait in the car for a sec when you get here. If I don’t come out it’s because she’s still up.”
They hung up and Erin kept the light out, looking through the window at the nothing that was happening outside. Any car arriving at this hour was sure to call attention for anyone who happened to be up and looking. But when she opened her door and looked down the hall at her parents’ door, she could see the light was out in there. She couldn’t hear a sound from within.
Cheryl was asleep. Or almost. Why would she stay up? She’d mentioned at least five times tonight how she had to get up at six thirty A.M. and go to work and how she envied Erin the freedom of high school summers with no responsibility greater than reading good books and watching soap operas.
For all she knew, Erin was getting rest for another busy day of leisure.
After about twenty minutes, Erin snuck through her door, closing it behind her, and went downstairs. That was the worst of it. The house was entirely floored with hardwood and every board seemed to creak like a shrieking banshee when stepped upon, so she had to move as lightly and as stealthily as possible. Plus she had to do it fast, so if there was more than one creak, it would sound like one long one rather than footsteps. House settling, rather than escape.
When she got to the main floor, she froze, listening for any sounds from above. The hardwood floors worked to both their advantage: they could alert the chaperone to when a prisoner was trying to escape, but they also told the prisoner if the chaperone was rousing from bed and coming to investigate.
Fortunately, there was no sound at all.
She stepped onto the front porch and sat down, waiting for him. Soon she saw headlights swing onto her street and heard the familiar old Chevy engine make its way toward her house. A few yards away from her house, he turned off the headlights, then pulled up a bit short of his usual spot out front. If Aunt Cheryl looked out the window, she’d think his car was in front of the neighbors’ house.
Erin’s pulse quickened at the slamming driver’s door and his footsteps coming up the street. She stood and ran across the sprinkler-dampened yard to him, throwing herself into his arms.
For a long moment, they kissed: mouths, chests, hips pressed together, arms locked around each other. She breathed in his familiar scent, part him, part Coast soap and Pert shampoo. Everything about him drew her in; it was the same every time.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked against her mouth.
“Inside,” she said automatically.
“But she’s in there.”
“Downstairs.”
He tightened his arms around her and kissed her more.
She didn’t want it to end. Ever.
The cicadas buzzed hypnotically in her ears. In the distance, crickets joined the chorus. It was so loud she couldn’t imagine Aunt Cheryl or anyone else could hear them over the sound, even if they yelled.
Finally, she pulled back.
She had A Plan.
“Come on.” She ran her hand down his arm and twined her fingers in his, then pulled him toward the house. “Let’s go.”
He followed. He indulged her. Unless there was danger ahead, or another clear reason her idea was harebrained, he always indulged her. She recognized that, but figured it was usually worth it for him, one way or the other.
She amused him; they both knew it. In a way their roles just reflected a deal they’d made. She’d be flighty and needy and he’d be smarter and indulgent, and in exchange she’d be protected and he’d be adored.
It just worked.
Holding tight to his hand, she led him through the front door, closing it slowly and quietly behind them, then down the stairs to the basement. She always hated those steps because they were just thick wood slats with no back and ever since she was a child she had imagined a hand reaching through and grabbing her ankles as she ran up them after turning out the light.
Tonight she had no fear, though.
They reached the cold linoleum floor and worked past her mother’s sewing table to an enclave that used to house a Ping-Pong table but which was now empty, except for some boxes of Christmas decorations and bolts of fabric her mother had laid out to measure and then left there.
That’s where Erin stopped. Wordlessly, she drew herself in to him again and their mouths crashed together like he was a soldier going off to war. He cradled her face with his hands and moved his mouth against hers with a gentleness and control that far surpassed hers.
She wanted more. She was determined that this was the night, and her eagerness in kissing him was contagious. Soon his control was broken and he was sliding his hand up her shirt and unsnapping her bra, removing both with one fluid movement. All that remained was her locket.
She didn’t even bother with his shirt, just went straight for his jeans, unbuttoning the hard snap and sliding everything off of him in one fell swoop. She was kneeling in front of him, and she took him into her mouth, clutching his hips.
She heard him pull off his shirt, then felt his hand on top of her head, absently tousling her hair while she brought him closer and closer to the end. But she couldn’t do that tonight, as much as she loved the feeling of achievement she had when she brought him all the way.
She drew back, pausing for a moment before letting go of him and reaching up to guide him down to her.
Together they lay down, warm skin against the cold, hard floor. He unsnapped her pants and skidded them down across her hips and off. Erin reached for the fabric that was lying on the floor and pulled it underneath her before pulling him on top of her.
“I’m ready,” she said breathlessly.
His breathing was strained in the dark. He was ready too. He was more than ready.
But he’d never let her do something she’d regret.
“Ready for what?” he asked cautiously.
She wrapped her legs around him. “Everything.”
It was a long, tight moment before he said, “Are you sure?”
She thought about Cheryl’s contention that this was young love, and about how she’d feel if they were ever to break up and she had to look back on this moment as an episode in a life that was full of people she didn’t even know now.
The very thought made her want to cry.
She’d know him forever, wouldn’t she? What would have to happen to make this—what they felt right now—change at all? Unless it just got stronger. And
surely that was what was going to happen, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t this just get stronger?
“I’m sure,” she said. And as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she was sure.
She never knew how he’d gotten so artful with his mouth and hands, or if, perhaps, it was only her perception because she hadn’t been with anyone else, but the moment she told him she was sure, he turned up the intensity, and within moments she was floating away, barely aware of anyone sleeping two floors up, or two doors down, or anyone anywhere else in the world.
His breathing was growing very strained from holding back.
“Now,” she said, and swallowed her fear. “Do it now.”
“You’re really sure?”
But it was no longer a question. If it wasn’t tonight, it would be tomorrow or next week or next month, but Erin could no longer see herself without him somewhere in her life, and there was no one she could even imagine being her first besides him.
She reached down and guided him toward her, then folded her arms around him and held on. She closed her eyes and he pressed against her.
“Ouch!” she cried involuntarily, then snapped her mouth shut and tried to breathe normally.
Now, that was some pain.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Is it bad?”
“Yes. Ow. Is it over?”
“Um. No.”
She took his meaning. All that pain and he hadn’t even broken through yet.
She took a deep breath. “Okay.” She balled her hands into fists. “Try again.”
He did. Several more times. And though the pain was intense, the result was always the same.
Nothing.
Finally, he rolled off her and said, “We’re going to try this another way.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked dubiously.
He laughed, then kissed her and gently trailed his hand down across her ribs, over her abdomen, and between her legs. He took his time, waiting for the throbbing to subside and her body to want more again.
Then he worked her with his hand, pushing the limits a little bit at a time with his fingers until finally she said, “I’m sure you can do it now.”
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