She had sent out several more e-mails with her CV, but no one had offered her a job yet. So she was still dependent on him. And George was the sweet spot in her life. They were in the honeymoon phase, where everything looked perfect and rosy to both of them. And so far, they had never had even the hint of a disagreement or a fight. She hoped they never would.
—
Sasha and Alex were doing well too. They spent as much time together as they could, and talked a lot about their work. They had both tried to negotiate their schedules, so they could work and be on call on the same days, and have the same days off, and some of the time it worked, and they did fun things. They went to concerts at Lincoln Center, and she met his friends, most of whom she liked when they had dinner with them. He rented a small sailboat one weekend, and they sailed on Long Island Sound. They went to Union Square’s farmers’ market to buy food, and to the flea market in Hell’s Kitchen. They bought pumpkins for the hospital and carved them for Halloween. She put two at the nurses’ station in labor and delivery, and they took the rest to the pediatric ward, where the kids loved them. And by then he reminded her that they were on about date twenty. They had lost count, but the right opportunity to spend a night together hadn’t turned up. Like George, he felt awkward spending the night at the loft with her roommates, or at least for the first time. And he said that his studio was a mess, and too small even for him, let alone for both of them. Valentina had asked her if they’d had sex, and told her she was ridiculous when Sasha said no. She told Sasha that she and Jean-Pierre had sex constantly, in every possible location, even on his plane. And she said there was something wrong with them, and insisted Alex was probably gay or couldn’t get it up, which Sasha told her was rude. But Alex and Sasha were in perfect harmony with each other, and they weren’t upset about the delay. And just before Halloween weekend, he had an idea.
“Why don’t we go to some cute inn in Connecticut or Massachusetts for the weekend? We’re both off. It would be nice to get away, and out of the city for two days.” She loved the suggestion, and he made a reservation at a bed and breakfast one of the other residents had told him about in Old Saybrook, Connecticut. He and his wife had spent their wedding night there.
They left the hospital together on Friday night at midnight, and at nine A.M. on Saturday, they were on the highway to Connecticut in his car. When they checked in to the tiny inn, which was on the water, they could smell the salt air and hear the seagulls from their room. And there were several quaint restaurants nearby. Sasha had brought a small suitcase with her, and Alex set it down in their room. An old couple ran the place, and their niece cleaned the rooms after school. It was just what they’d wanted, and they talked about going for a walk on the beach, but Alex stopped her before they left the room and kissed her hard on the mouth. They had been kissing for over a month, but now they were away together for a weekend. Their intentions were clear. He had wondered if she would be shy with him, but she smiled as she unbuttoned his shirt, and unzipped his pants, and he did the same for her. It had been a long, respectful wait, and now they were like old friends. There were no secrets or mysteries or hidden agendas, they knew everything about each other except their bodies, and Sasha wanted to discover the rest now. Suddenly she couldn’t wait another minute, and neither could he. They climbed into bed rapidly and laughed when it creaked, and they instantly forgot about it in a rush of desire that surprised them both. After a month of waiting while they got to know each other, now this was all they wanted, and they were both breathless afterward as they lay in bed and he admired her body. She was exquisite, and she thought he was beautiful too. They lay smiling at each other, and then they kissed again.
“I love you,” he said softly. He had waited until now to say it, but they had said it in countless ways and thoughtful gestures in the last month.
“I love you too,” she said happily. She felt as though she belonged to him now. The final bridge had been crossed. “My sister thinks we were crazy to have waited, but I’m glad we did.” They lay in bed for a long time, and then showered together, put their clothes on, and went outside to explore the small town. They took a long walk on the beach hand in hand, and then they went back to the inn and made love again before going to dinner in one of the nearby restaurants, which was romantic and sweet and entirely candlelit. It was a perfect honeymoon. They spent two days of total bliss.
They were quiet on the ride back, listening to music, and thinking about what had happened that weekend. She leaned over and kissed him, and he smiled at her. He had never felt more elated or at peace in his life.
They took their time driving back to the city, after a last walk on the beach at the end of the day. “Do you want to sleep at the apartment?” she asked him as they drove toward New York. He hesitated, but he didn’t want to spend the night without her now after what they’d shared that weekend.
“Yes, I do.” And he had another idea, but he wanted to ask his parents first.
They found a parking space right outside her building, and they walked upstairs. All three girls were home, and Max had cooked dinner for them, and Oliver and Greg were there too. It was nice finding all of them there. It was like coming home to a loving family after their honeymoon. They hadn’t had dinner, and Max had enough left for them, and poured them both a glass of wine. Morgan and Claire were still sitting at the table, and Abby was deep in conversation with Greg on the couch about her book. George had come for dinner but had already gone home. He had an early meeting the next morning, and Claire had decided to stay at the apartment, so they could get some sleep. They’d had a busy weekend. They had gone to Bermuda on his plane, and stayed on a yacht he had chartered.
“Where were you two all weekend?” Max asked as they ate the pot roast he had prepared, which everyone loved. It was his grandmother’s recipe from the old country, and he’d made it with mashed potatoes and creamed spinach, and chocolate soufflé for dessert, with crème anglaise.
“We went to Connecticut,” Alex said cryptically as he smiled at Sasha, and everyone understood and looked pleased for them. There were no secrets in the group.
As they always did, they sat talking for a long time. The candles burned low on the table, and everyone was full and relaxed when the others went home. And after Sasha helped with the dishes, she and Alex went to her room and got into bed, as though they’d been doing it for years. They cuddled under her comforter, and they made love again, and just before they fell asleep, he told her he loved her, and she snuggled up to him and kissed his cheek.
“I love you too, Alex,” she said softly, and a moment later she was purring in his arms like a kitten. The next thing he knew, it was six o’clock, the alarm had gone off, and it was time to go to work. They were on the same schedule that day. She showered first, and then made him breakfast while he showered and dressed. She had it on the table for him when he walked out of her bedroom. The others were all still asleep. She and Alex had to be at work by seven, and they were on duty until ten that night.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling at her. Staying with her had worked out better than he had expected. No one made an issue of it, and he felt as though he fit right in. Max had spent the night too, and the loft was big enough for all of them, especially with different schedules. Sasha shared a bathroom with Abby, who wouldn’t be up before noon. “I feel like I’m in college again,” he said grinning, except that he was there with the woman he loved, not a bunch of guys he barely knew.
“Sometimes I feel like that too. But I think I’d be lonely having my own place.” She had been there with all of them for five years, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
They left the apartment quietly at a quarter to seven, and he drove to the hospital and put the car in the garage. And then they walked into the hospital together, kissed, and wished each other a good day. Sasha was smiling when she got to the nurses’ station, and looked at the chalkboard on the wall to see who was in active labor, who had delivered, when,
and how many patients they had.
“Full house,” she commented to the nurses.
“You can say that again. We delivered six babies on Halloween. Two C’s and four vag. The place was hopping all night. Lucky for you you were off.” She smiled and nodded. It had been more than lucky. It had been their honeymoon. She grabbed one of the charts and went in to check on one of the women who had delivered the night before.
She checked on four of them, and then Alex showed up with a cappuccino for her, and hurried back to work.
“What did you do to deserve that?” one of the nurses teased her. She had seen them together before, and Alex looked smitten with her.
“You don’t want to know,” Sasha said with a guilty grin, and they all laughed.
Chapter 11
Alex called his parents about their Thanksgiving plans. His parents always hosted dinner, he and his brother were there, and a few friends of his parents who had nowhere else to go.
“I’d like to bring a friend with me, if that’s okay with you,” he told his mother on the phone, and she immediately made it clear that any friend of his or Ben’s was welcome. He had brought friends home from college several times, but no one since and never a woman. This was a first for him. Ben had had a girlfriend for two years, and she had joined them, but she and Ben had broken up that summer. So now it was his turn, and he had suspected his parents would be welcoming about it, but he still wanted to give them the courtesy of asking before he said anything to Sasha.
“Who is it? Is it someone we know?” his mother asked him.
“No, it’s someone I’m going out with. Her name is Sasha Hartman, she’s a resident at NYU too, and she’s from Atlanta.” It was as much information as he would give her.
“She sounds interesting,” his mother said pleasantly. Helen Scott loved her boys, and always welcomed their friends warmly.
“Can she stay with us, Mom?” He felt like a kid again as he asked.
“Of course. You don’t think I’d make her stay at a hotel, do you? And everyone’s grown up now. She can stay in your room, if you want her to, the way Angela stayed with Ben. I’m going to miss her.” It was an all-male household, except for her, and she had always missed having a daughter. And neither of her sons was married, so she had no daughters-in-law either. She had thought that Ben would marry his girlfriend, but she had had serious issues with his demanding schedule as an orthopedic surgeon, and had ended the relationship because of it. And even his mother realized that Ben was a little obsessive about his work, and he took too many patients, but he loved what he did, and Helen had told him that the right woman would understand it, and apparently Angela wasn’t it for him. But he had been very upset about the breakup, and had only just started dating again recently, but there was no one important in his life yet.
Alex talked to her for a few minutes, and was excited to speak to Sasha that afternoon when they left work together. He had been staying at the apartment with her.
“I called my mother today,” he told her as he drove home with her. “I wanted to clear it with her, before I asked you, and she’s delighted. I’d like you to come home with me for Thanksgiving,” he said, smiling at her. And then he added gently, “You’re the first woman I’ve ever taken home.” She leaned over and kissed him, and she was thrilled.
“I’m very touched and flattered.” He told her he was proud of her, and couldn’t wait for her to meet them. And she was excited about it. She knew it was a big deal to him, and it was to her too.
“Should I bring Valentina?” she teased him, and he groaned at the image.
“I’m not sure they’re quite ready for her yet,” he said as Sasha laughed at him.
“Neither is our family, and we’re related to her,” Sasha said simply. She hadn’t been planning to go home anyway, so she didn’t need to explain it to her mother. Going home for holidays now was just too unpleasant, being pulled between her parents while they competed with each other. She didn’t enjoy her stepmother, although she was a sweet woman, and her mother was just too difficult and hadn’t done Thanksgiving dinner in years. She went to a friend’s house every year, and was happy not to be bothered, so this was going to be the first family Thanksgiving Sasha had had in a long time. She was going to Chicago with Alex, and it sounded wonderful to her.
“I may have to buy a dress,” Sasha said, thinking about it as they walked into the apartment. “I don’t think I have the right thing to wear.” Or she could borrow something from one of her roommates, which she did often. Abby was too small, and shorter than all of them, but Morgan and Claire were about the same size, and Valentina, which would have been exotic, but definitely not the right look.
“My father and brother are doctors. You can wear your scrubs and Crocs if you want to.” He grinned at her. He was ecstatic that she was coming home with him. And he wanted to show her all his favorite haunts in Chicago. It was going to be a fantastic weekend. Sasha called Oliver that night to tell him about her change of plans and that she wouldn’t be at their Thanksgiving dinner, and he was happy for her.
—
George and Claire had their first fight two weeks before Thanksgiving, over a trade show she had to go to with Walter in Orlando. George wanted her to go to a black-tie dinner at the mayor’s mansion, and she said she couldn’t go.
“That’s ridiculous,” George said to her over dinner at Le Bernadin, the finest fish restaurant in New York, and another of his favorite haunts. “Tell him you can’t. I can’t tell the mayor you won’t come to dinner because you’re selling shoes in Florida.” He made it sound like a Moroccan bazaar.
“And I can’t tell Walter to sell his own ugly shoes because I’m having dinner with the mayor.”
“You don’t even like the shoes he sells.”
“No, I don’t, but it’s my job.” It was the first time George had put pressure on her, but the dinner was important to him. The mayor and his wife were clients, and he didn’t want to offend them. But she didn’t want to offend her boss. Walter was difficult enough as it was, and he would read about the evening in the papers. He was scanning them daily now for mention of her, so he could complain that she was out partying too much to do her job. She wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire by refusing to go to an important trade show with him, even if it sounded insignificant to George.
“You don’t even like your job,” he reminded her. “You want to quit.”
“That’s true. But I don’t want to get fired. It may sound tacky to you, but I need the money, and this is what I do.”
“I didn’t say it was tacky, I said it was ridiculous to cater to that ogre you work for. Let him sell his own damn shoes in Orlando.”
“This is what he pays me for.” There was no way to resolve the argument unless she agreed to go with George, and she couldn’t do that, whether George understood it or not. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of since the beginning, that he would try to force her to quit her job at some point, and then she’d be dependent on him. That was precisely what she didn’t want, and surely not this early in the relationship, or even later on. She had to have the ability to work and earn her salary, whether he liked it or not. She was sorry to miss the party with him, but if she didn’t want to get fired, she had no choice. And she didn’t want to give up her job with Arthur Adams until she had another one, hopefully a better one, which she wouldn’t get if she got fired from the one she had. She knew that George understood the concept, he just didn’t like her saying no. The word was unfamiliar to him.
They finished dinner in silence, and he took her home to Hell’s Kitchen in the Ferrari in a huff, and went back to his apartment after he dropped her off. He never stayed at the loft with her anyway, but he didn’t invite her to stay with him uptown that night. He was mad. And she held her ground. But she was depressed the next day about the argument, and she looked glum at her desk, when a messenger walked in carrying an enormous bouquet of roses with a card that said, “I’m sorry I was suc
h a jerk last night. Go to Orlando. I love you. G.” She smiled the minute she saw it and called him immediately, and thanked him for being understanding.
“I’m sorry, Claire. I was just disappointed. I wanted to go with you and show you off.”
“I’d much rather be with you than in Orlando,” she said honestly, and then noticed that Walter was standing there, listening to her, and she told George she had to get off. This was a headache she did not need.
“So are you coming to Orlando or not?” her boss asked her angrily.
“Of course I’m coming.”
“Then what are the flowers about?”
“He loves me, that’s all,” she said nervously.
“You’re going to wind up marrying him and quitting,” he said, looking sour.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, “except to Orlando with you.”
“Fine,” he said gruffly, and stalked out of her office. She always felt like she was on thin ice with him now, but better with him than with George. And she was relieved that they had resolved their first big argument nicely, and he had backed down.
And that night, George told her he was taking her away for the weekend, and it was a surprise. He told her to pack summer clothes, and she couldn’t wait to find out where they were going. He was a good secret keeper, and she didn’t find out till Saturday morning when they got on the plane. He was taking her to the Turks and Caicos. He had told her to “think beach,” so she had brought the right clothes. He had rented a private villa with their own pool, at the best resort on the island. He still felt guilty about their fight and wanted to make it up to her, which he did. They hardly put their clothes on all weekend, and spent most of it in bed, and the rest lying naked by their private pool, making love in it, or having dinners served on their private patio at night. It was a fabulous weekend.
The Apartment Page 13