Isabel Sharpe

by Surprise Me. . . (lit)

  “Damn, you are sounding just like my brother.” Stoner downed his tequila, slammed the glass on the bar.

  “Who is this woman?”

  “Kaitlin. From the coffee shop.”

  “Kaitlin?” Melanie gaped at him. “Edgar’s Kaitlin?”

  “Not Edgar’s,” he said testily. “Yeah, the one that works at Caffe Coffee. I don’t know, it’s like I went in there because he told me she brews a great cup, and I walk in and introduce myself and it’s like…I don’t know, ton of bricks I guess.”

  “This isn’t like you?”

  “Well, I mean, I like the ladies. I really do. Give me a hot woman and I’m all over it. Like you, for instance. You are a total babe, Mel-a-nie.”

  She grinned. Thank God she’d never, ever started anything with this charming cretin. “Thanks, Stoner. You’re pretty much of a babe yourself.”

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot. This woman is like…” He thumped his chest. “In here. Like a disease, you know, like flesh-eating bacteria, eating me up.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Almost Shakespearean.”

  “Yeah, maybe I won’t use that one again. But you know what I mean, right?”

  “Yeah.” She took a sip of her beer, thinking of Edgar.

  “Yeah. Yeah, you got it, right there.” He pointed to her face. “That stupid faraway look like you’ve lost your mind. That’s exactly how I feel all day. I hate it.”

  She laughed hard enough to get tears in her eyes. “It’s not that bad once you give in.”

  “Oh, man, you sound like Satan. Sell your soul to me and all will be well.”

  “Go for it, Stoner.” She nudged him affectionately with her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I guess. I guess. So you think offering to watch me play is the problem?”

  “Yeah.” She put her hand on his arm. “I do. Take her somewhere nice, somewhere quiet, maybe a picnic at the—”

  “A picnic?!” He opened his mouth in comical horror. “With a barbecue, maybe, so I can cut off my balls and grill them for her?”

  Melanie barely managed to keep beer from going up her nose. “Stoner.”

  “I know, over the top.” He shook his head, signaled to the bartender and held up his empty tequila glass. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

  “Just ask what she’d like to do. She might surprise you.”

  “You mean like maybe she’s not into picnics? That would work.”

  “Maybe she is, maybe not. Maybe she’ll suggest going to an S and M swingers club.”

  “Whoa.” His eyes popped. Then he smiled that great not-quite-Edgar smile. “You know, I can see why my brother is in love with you. Sorry we never managed to hook up. But once I found out about you and him, whoa. I’m not going there, not on my own brother.”

  “You’re a good guy, Stoner. I hope Kaitlin gets to see that.”

  “Oh, man, even her name gets me all churned up.” He laughed nervously. “I’ll ask her out again. I’ll go by there tomorrow morning right when the shop opens.”

  “Isn’t that like at 7:00 a.m.?”

  “Can you believe it? I’ve got it bad.” He shook his head and winked at her. “Just like Edgar.”

  “Good luck, Stoner. And remember this. It sounds weird, but you have to trust me, because I just lived it for the first time. With the right person even a picnic can surprise you.” She held up her mug and clinked it with his shot glass, giddy with certainty that she’d just freed herself from men like Stoner for the rest of her life. “What’s more, with the right person, you can even surprise yourself.”

  EDGAR SALUTED HIS imaginary opponent. En garde. Allez.

  Attack, balestra, lunge, parry, counterriposte, ha! Got the bastard.

  He was breathing hard, body tense, puncturing his enemy repeatedly on the balcony of his apartment, which was by now awash with imaginary blood. The air was humid, though the temperature wasn’t high enough for air-conditioning, and he was sweating like a pig.

  Stoner was out with Melanie.

  Balestra, lunge, parry, counterriposte, ha! Sucker fell for it every time.

  Generally when he practiced, Edgar fell into a high of concentration, body alert, mind clear and attuned to the smallest detail, all qualities he’d need to react instantaneously to his opponent, make split-second decisions regarding defense moves and subsequent attacks. There were moments when he felt he knew what his opponent was going to do before he did it.

  However, in the case of Melanie, he didn’t have that luxury. So far he’d made more progress with her, had her responding to him and opening up about her feelings more than he’d ever dared imagine.

  Okay, scratch that, he imagined it every day.

  Balestra, lunge, parry, counterriposte, again, yes! Death to the unknown foe.

  Today his form was fine, but his mind kept going off in different directions. Were Melanie and Stoner having fun? How much fun? For how long? Where? In what position?

  He trusted her, and for a change he trusted his brother, but…his relationship with Melanie was still so new, so tentative, at least for her. They’d come further faster than he’d hoped, but knowing Melanie, she was liable to bolt at the slightest unexpected turn. Part of her charm was the enthusiasm with which she threw herself into new situations, relationships, opportunities.

  Balestra, flèche—bolting past his opponent to avoid a riposte, and he was ready to hit the shower. He’d been practicing at the club, then out here over an hour, needing action to work out his frustration and worry.

  But right now he was exhausted.

  He trudged into his bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped.

  Stoner wasn’t a bad person. And he seemed genuinely smitten with Kaitlin, though who knew how she felt. But Stoner liked to drink, and he liked women, and his ego seemed to need a steady supply of both or he got moody and depressed. Even when they were kids he’d always been about impressing the opposite sex. Who knew where he got it? Maybe their weird uncle Chad, Mom’s brother. Dad was attractive, but cerebral, a take-charge hard worker, a strong authority figure, but not what Edgar would call a passionate guy. Edgar took after their interior-decorator mother, more of an observer, a peacemaker with strong empathy and her own brand of obstinacy.

  He glanced at his watch. Ten. They’d met at eight. He took off his watch and tossed it onto the top of the hamper in disgust. Stop, Edgar.

  In the shower, he lathered and scrubbed off the sweat, trying not to think of them together, trying not to think of what they might be doing, of Stoner touching the beautiful body he’d been crazy enough already to imagine was his. Melanie touching another man—

  Was that the phone? His eyes shot open; he yanked off the water and ripped back the curtain. Yes.

  He stepped out of the tub; his foot slipped and he went down hard on his hip, wrenching his arm as he tried to stop his fall.

  Ow.

  The pain peaked, subsided. He wasn’t badly hurt. The phone had stopped ringing.

  Edgar got up, breathing hard, heart pounding even harder, checking his joints and bones mentally. Bruises maybe, that was all. He could have killed himself. Knocked his head against the sink or the tub rim. Most accidents happened in the bathroom, yada yada.

  All because he was imagining something that probably wasn’t even happening.

  Why wasn’t he imagining the way she looked after she climaxed with him out on the balcony, before they came inside, ate dinner, pulled out a supply of condoms and continued the party all night?

  Why wasn’t he imagining the way she was with him in the shower the next morning, soft and warm and naked and wet? She’d taken him into her mouth so sweetly, kneeling on the tub floor, water beading and running off her face, her hair slicked back tight to her scalp.

  Whoa. Seriously. Why?

  He stretched, worked his arm, rotating his shoulder joint, moving his elbow forward and back. No serious injury there, either.

  He was a lucky guy. A lucky guy in a lot of ways. The most amazing
beautiful girl in the world could be falling in love with him and all he could think about was how it could go wrong, how he could be wrong for her, how he might not be enough.

  What the hell? Time to reorder that thinking. Time to trust her, to trust what they had together, and to trust that he was worth it.

  The phone rang again. He took his time getting there.

  Melanie’s cell. “Hello?”

  “Hey.” Her voice was low, soft and intimate.

  “Melanie, hi, how’s it going?”

  “Just had an interesting talk with your brother.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He tried to sound casual, almost succeeded.

  “Remember how you told me I had three dates to decide if I wanted to be with you?”

  “Mmm, yeah.” His voice was gravelly with nerves.

  “I should have told you last time.”

  His swallow was audible. “Yeah?”

  “It only took me one date to know.”

  Silence. He was paralyzed with fear, wanting the right answer so badly that he couldn’t even speak. “Edgar?”

  “Yuh?”

  “You’re not…I mean you’re not happy?”

  “Happy?” He went back over her words. She hadn’t said any thing happy. “You said you made your decision.”

  “Yes.”

  “Um, Melanie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “You forgot to mention what that decision was.”

  She gasped. “No way. I did? Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

  “Melanie.”

  She giggled. “I can’t believe I led you right up to the payoff like that and didn’t deliver. Jeez.”

  “Melanie.” He was grinning, nearly overflowing, like a joy balloon was slowly inflating in his chest. Two years he’d fantasized about this moment. Two years. Now he had his answer. It hadn’t sunk in yet, but he had it. He just wanted to hear the words right from between her gorgeous lips. “Say it.”

  “It’s you, Edgar. I want to be with you.” Her voice was low and breathy. His cock responded as if she were an X-rated video. He turned toward the door, imagining her standing there already. Naked. Smiling. His.

  “Then why don’t you come over right now?”

  MELANIE CLINKED THE SIDE of her glass with her fork to get attention, a completely unnecessary gesture in Tricia’s opinion, since she and Alana were less than an elbow’s length away, having breakfast at Ted’s Diner.

  “I know you’re wondering why I’ve brought us together today.”

  Alana lifted an eyebrow. “To have breakfast?”

  “I wasn’t actually wondering, Melanie, no.” Tricia winked at Alana, who smiled. A little stiffly, but she did smile.

  Melanie made a sound of acute exasperation. “Come on, how often do I actually want to go out to breakfast before work?”

  “When you’re still up from the night before?” Alana sipped her coffee innocently.

  “I’m not still up from—” Melanie rested her forehead on her hand in defeat, unable to control a smile. She was radiant. Glowing. So lovely. Of course, Tricia thought that about her daughters all the time. She didn’t deserve such perfect offspring, but thank God for both of them.

  “Hey, Melanie.” Tricia sipped her coffee nonchalantly. “I was wondering something. Seriously.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why did you bring us together this morning?”

  “You know, I was wondering that exact same thing.” Alana shook her head in awe. “Whoa. It’s like we’re related.”

  Tricia laughed and patted Melanie’s hand. “Have we driven you crazy enough or shall we keep going?”

  “Oh, by all means, keep going. I don’t think I’m quite insane enough yet.” She put a finger gun to her temple. “So…?”

  “So what?” Melanie blinked, then held up her hands. “Okay. I have an official announcement.”

  “Oh, my God, you’re engaged.” Alana thumped a hand to her chest.

  Tricia’s heart started pounding. God, not to Stoner. Melanie had gone out with him the night before and—

  “No. No. God, no. Not.” Melanie made earnest denial motions, waving both hands at them. “Don’t give me a heart attack.”

  “Give you a heart attack?” Tricia put down her cup. She didn’t need more caffeine until her pulse calmed down.

  “Sorry, I jumped the gun.” Alana peered at her sister curiously. “What is it?”

  “As much as it pains me intensely to admit it, you were right.” She looked from mother to sister. “Both of you.”

  “About…” Alana beckoned encouragingly.

  “Stoner.”

  “Whew.” Alana fanned herself. “Thank God. And yes, we certainly were.”

  “And about…” She started blushing. “Edgar.”

  “Edgar!” Tricia exchanged a glance with Alana and held up her hand for a high five, which Alana actually gave her. “You’re dating him?”

  “For real?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Melanie nodded. “He’s…he’s just… He’s so…”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  Alana’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God. Melanie.”

  “What?” She looked at her sister, eyes shining, lip trembling.

  “You’re in love. I mean really.” She put her hand on top of her sister’s and squeezed, her own eyes filling up.

  Which meant a lump the size of Rhode Island formed in Tricia’s throat, watching the affection between her girls. Maybe her neglect had helped that bond thrive. Maybe. Silver linings were hard to find.

  “Yeah, I think I really am.” Melanie laughed breathlessly. “Finally.”

  “Isn’t it amazing? And scary? And fabulous?”

  “All of the above.”

  “I’m so happy for you, sweetie. You so deserve this.” Alana’s voice trembled; her hand was white-knuckled, squeezing her sister’s.

  Tricia was nearly overcome. “Alana, I have never seen you look as beautiful as you do now.”

  Alana looked startled, turned to her mother. Their eyes met for a long time, one pair brown, one blue. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Mom.

  Tears rose; she couldn’t help it. And why not? Bawling seemed to be the order of the morning.

  “My God, will you look at the three of us?” Melanie laughed, wiping her tears. “Complete basket cases.”

  “Excuse me.” Alana signaled the waitress. “More coffee for the hormonal trio here.”

  The waitress grinned and brought over the pot. “Happy tears?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Good stuff.” While they blew noses and wiped eyes, she splashed coffee into each of their cups, then left, smiling.

  “Whew.” Alana tucked her tissue into her sleeve, giving Tricia a jolt of recognition. Her mom did that. “What’s next? When will you see Edgar again?”

  “He’s taking me to hear the Chicago Symphony at Ravinia this Friday.”

  “Holy crap, you are going to hear a symphony concert?”

  “And I used to think loud and crowded was the only way to have a good time.” Melanie picked up her coffee cup and shrugged. “Edgar is showing me another world. Actually…he’s showing me another me.”

  Something clicked in Tricia’s brain, making her think of Jim. Of course, she might as well face it, she was always thinking of Jim. They’d gotten together a couple of times since visiting Beatrice, once for a hike, once for lunch, but he called or e-mailed every day. She was getting used to having him in her life, and wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  “This is good. Really good. Sawyer showed me a new me, too.” Alana grinned approvingly, then leaned forward and nudged her sister with her elbow. “How is Edgar in the, um, you know…”

  “Spectacular. Best ever.” Stars were practically shooting out the top of her head. “Because he cares about you,” Alana said. “That’s sort of how it’s supposed to work.”

  “Yeah.” Melanie twisted her mouth wryly. “Go figure.”

  Tricia bit her lip, rem
embering her crazy passion with Jim in the van, how different it had felt. She’d assumed it was because she was actually in full possession of her senses for a change. But maybe it was because, like Edgar, Jim was a good guy who cared about her.

  “Mom, you’re the only one single now,” Alana said.

  Tricia straightened abruptly. “As it should be. I’m taking a long overdue break from men.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Alana sent her sister a sly look. “What’s up with this Jim guy?”

  “Jim?” She shrugged. “He’s just a friend.”

  “Really?” Melanie shot Alana a look back. “Tell us more about him, Mom.”

  “Well, he’s a photographer. He has a studio on Brady Street.”

  “But what’s he like?” Melanie asked. “Is he good to you?”

  “Oh, well, he’s…” Her throat thickened. “He’s very…kind.”

  “And?” Alana dropped her chin into her hand, stared relentlessly.

  “And…and thoughtful.” Her voice cracked bizarrely.

  “Really. And?” Melanie’s turn, looking smug.

  “Very…support’ve…” Her voice trailed away in tears.

  Melanie and Alana burst out laughing.

  “Mom, you are so busted,” Melanie said.

  “No, no.” She shook her head adamantly. “It’s not like that. We’ve been friends for so long, we go way back, it’s just…I can’t get involved now, this is my for-me time, and besides, I’m leaving, and—”

  “Excuses, excuses.” Alana waved them away. “You’re hit, too.”

  “Welcome to the club, Mom.”

  “You’re in it, might as well accept your fate.”

  Tricia grinned at her daughters, overwhelmed by the bliss of being part of a real family, one she no longer took the slightest bit for granted. One she hardly felt she deserved.

  “I can’t tell you what a privilege and pleasure it is to belong—” she reached, took their hands and squeezed, profoundly grateful for this second chance “—to any club that has both of you as members.”

  15

  NOT SINCE THE BEGINNING of time had there been a more perfect day. Edgar was sure of it. And the best was still to come.

  He’d picked a night when the Chicago Symphony was playing an all-Tchaikovsky program, figuring the rich romantic music would set the perfect mood. He’d packed a picnic—cold oven-fried chicken, parmesan sesame biscuits, a fruit-and-greens salad with mint—and picked Melanie up—miraculously she was ready on time. The drive was uneventful, traffic moving, the air soft and warm, humidity low.