by Amber Cross
She didn’t seem bothered by it. Dangling the bag with her swimwear from the fingers of one hand, she reached up with the other and slid her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, exerting enough pressure to bring him down to her level for a sweet kiss. He had to get her away from Somerset more often if it meant she could show this kind of spontaneity in public.
A wolf whistle pierced the air and she jumped, taking a quick step back. He turned his head to see two of the guys from his basketball game standing at the balcony above and behind them.
“Hey, I thought you said she was a Mule!” Travis McCloskey called out.
“Yeah, but he’s a bobcat. They’re predators.” Skip Danahy winked.
“True. I think this is mating season for them too, isn’t it? Hey, Plankey, don’t bobcats mate in the winter?”
Instead of being embarrassed, Abby gave it right back to them. “Why don’t you stop acting like animals and leave him alone so he can find out?”
“Oh, feisty.”
“Better keep her, Plankey.”
“I plan to.”
Her body jerked, her gray-green eyes widened, and her mouth fell open just the smallest bit. He couldn’t resist running his tongue across her pillowy soft lower lip. “Would you mind?” he murmured, kissing her cheek and then the shell of her ear. “If I kept you?”
She clutched his shirtfront between the open lapels of his jacket. “Just try and get rid of me.”
They were both wearing dopey grins now.
A couple of women coming from the pool had to swerve around them, and he realized they were standing in the way. Guiding Abby with a hand at her waist, he led her to the front door where they zipped their coats and prepared to brave the New York winter again. “Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” he asked.
“I want to go to a bookstore,” she said without hesitation. “All we have at home to choose from is a wire rack in the supermarket or Amazon. I want to go to a real bookstore with shelves and shelves, so many shelves it could take hours to shop.”
“How does eighteen miles of books and a warehouse with more sound to you?”
“It sounds like a library.”
“Nope. Three stories of new, used, and rare books to choose from. First editions. A whole section of nothing but books about music. And that’s not counting the warehouse.”
“Now that sounds like heaven.”
“Then we’re going to the East Village.”
Except for the maroon awning that wrapped around the corner of the building on 12th and Broadway proclaiming the company name and purpose, Strand Bookstore might have been a hotel or apartment building. Inside Abby turned around in a circle in the middle of the store like a child exploring a place they’d always dreamed of seeing.
“Like it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“I could get lost in here for a few days. Maybe weeks. All these words. It’s like a fantasy come true.”
“What do you want to see first?”
She screwed up her face as if pondering the question, gray-green eyes sparkling with mischief even as she stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “You. Naked on the hardwood floor between the shelves with your favorite book draped over your…lap.”
A sizzle of excitement went down his spine and straight to his groin. If they were alone, he would give her everything she wanted, but this was a public place, so he contented himself with murmuring, “I think I’ve found Miss Scarlett in the library. Now the question is, should she be armed with a candlestick or a rope?”
Her eyes flared and her breath came in on a short gasp.
“I think my woman likes a little kink,” he said, thrilled by her reaction. But he stepped away and took her hand. Walking toward a group of bookshelves, he dropped his voice to add, “Unfortunately it will have to wait until we’re alone. I’ve heard that delayed gratification requires…discipline.”
When she closed her eyes, briefly, he knew she understood the word play and was turned on by it. Good, because he would hate to be the only one in this condition.
The rest of the day was spent like that. Deliberately brushing up against one another in risqué moves that might look innocent to bystanders but only heightened their state of arousal. Petting and stroking one another into a near frenzy beneath the cover of a lap blanket while taking a sleigh ride in Central Park. Speaking in double entendres until even the most banal conversation became sexual foreplay.
By the time they stumbled across the threshold to his home, they were locked in a heated kiss, groping at one another like teenagers on a first date. And like teenagers, they were caught in the act by the two people sitting on the living room sofa.
Darcy’s mouth formed a big O of surprise while Colin folded his arms across his thin chest and smirked at them. Hastily Abby pulled out of Glen’s embrace and righted her coat. He took hold of her hand to still any further attempts at making sure she was presentable.
“What are you two doing here?”
Darcy closed her mouth, her pretty face screwed up in a way that forecast imminent tears, and cried, “Mom wants to move to California!”
****
All levity disappeared from Glen’s mouth as if wiped away by an eraser. He unsnapped his jacket and tossed it in the direction of the coat rack. Kicked off his boots and moved to the sofa where he scooped his daughter up and sat down with her on his lap. “Tell me.”
Colin’s humor had also vanished. Instead of a cocky attitude, he looked scared and suddenly very, very young.
“Derek has been offered a job in Silicon Valley. It’s a really good job with a lot of money, and Mom thinks it would be great to live where it’s warm all year, so she’s all for it, but she wants us to go too, and I don’t want to leave everybody. I mean, it would be one thing to move to Vermont; we love Vermont and we’d be near your family, but California? I don’t want to go to California! But can she make me, do I have to go with her or am I old enough to choose, because I can’t remember what the rules of your divorce are, and I love Mom, but I don’t want to go. You won’t let her make us go, will you, Dad?”
“Breathe.”
“But I don’t want to go!” she sobbed.
Gently pushing her cheek against his shoulder, he kissed the top of her head. “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
She took a deep breath as instructed, then began softly weeping into his shirtfront. He patted her back in a steady, calming rhythm and reached with the other hand to squeeze Colin’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“I don’t want to go either,” he said in a small voice that trembled. “Can she make us leave?”
Abby had been quietly hanging Glen’s jacket up and righting his boots on the mat before taking off her winter gear. As much as she liked his kids, this was a personal matter, and she didn’t want to intrude. They didn’t seem to pay any attention to her as she padded softly toward his bedroom in order to give them privacy.
“Don’t go.”
His words stopped her. When she looked over her shoulder, blue eyes beseeched her to stay.
As unobtrusively as possible, she crossed to his easy chair and sank into the deep suede cushion, curling her legs up beneath her.
To his children he said, “Does your mom know you’re here now?”
“No. We just told her what we thought about her plans and took off.”
“We need to call her, then. So she won’t worry about whether or not you’re safe.”
“Do we have to?”
His reply was definitive. “Yes.” But when he reached into his pocket, it was empty. He looked to where his jacket hung by the door, then looked at Abby with a silent request. She retrieved the phone and carried it over to him.
A few minutes later he had spoken with his ex-wife, whose shrill voice broadcast throughout the living room even if her words were indistinguishable. Glen never lost his calm. He reassured her the kids were fine and told her they wanted to spend the night
with him. When that didn’t go over well, he reminded her the trains to Scarsdale on Saturday night were not a good place for them to be and promised to have them home first thing in the morning. Eventually she agreed to this and they ended the call.
With that small victory Darcy brought herself under control and Colin visibly relaxed.
Glen eased himself off the sofa and opened the double doors below the coffee table top. “Why don’t we show Abby what Saturday nights are usually like at our place?” He held up a game of Trivial Pursuit.
“I’m on your team,” Darcy said.
“You’re going down,” her brother challenged.
It was a close game until the very end, but more than an hour later Glen and Darcy eked out a victory. “Two out of three?” Colin suggested.
His sister yawned.
“Not tonight.” Glen put the pieces away in their plastic bag and folded the game board. “You two get ready for bed now.”
They didn’t even argue, which impressed Abby. They also thanked her for the game, and after brushing their teeth, wished her a good night along with their father. Almost like this was a normal situation they found themselves in. Which made her ask, when the two of them were settled beneath the covers and her head rested on his shoulder, “Do you have overnight guests a lot?”
“What?” He seemed distracted, taking a moment to process her question before answering. “No. I’ve never had a woman over when the kids are here. Why?”
Suffused with warmth from that information, she explained. “Well, they seemed to take it in stride. Don’t you think that’s odd for teenagers?”
He rolled to his side so they were facing one another on the pillows. “I think they like you.”
“They’re pretty easy to like.” In fact, if anyone had asked her if she got along with teenagers six months ago she would have said no. Because she didn’t know any. She certainly never expected to be in a relationship with a man who had two.
Glen brushed a finger down the side of her cheek. “And they realize you’re special or I wouldn’t have you here.”
“You say the sweetest things.” Turning her face, she kissed the palm of his hand. “How is Darcy? Besides what happened tonight, is she feeling better now?”
“Yes, thanks.” He feathered her eyebrow with the tips of his fingers, then played with the curls at the side of her forehead. “Her thyroid is off, so pretty much all of her systems have been operating at half what they should be. The doctor put her on the pill to regulate her menstrual cycle, at least until the thyroid medication has a chance to start working.”
“That’s good news.”
“Yeah. I’m worried about both of them, though. About what my ex-wife has planned.”
That was only natural.
“You’re a judge.”
She tried to discourage this line of conversation as gently as possible. “I’m not a judge in New York.”
“But you’re a lawyer too. You know the law. Can she make them go, or can they choose where they want to live?”
Abby sighed, rolling onto her back and staring up at the dark ceiling. She wasn’t sure she wanted to offer any advice for fear of jeopardizing their relationship, but if the situation were reversed and her computer was hit by ransomware or some nasty virus, she wouldn’t think twice about turning to him for help. And at least she was certain of how the courts in New York viewed these situations.
“There is no age. The judge will look at the kids’ requests as an individual case and consider whether or not they are mature enough to know what they are asking for. A law guardian will work with them, assess the home life you can offer, weigh it against the home life she can offer, and decide what is in their best interests. Since you share custody now, even if they stay with you they will probably have to spend considerable chunks of time with her. Like their summers and school breaks.”
“I thought this would get easier,” he admitted. “I thought we were done with courtrooms.”
Unable to offer any words of comfort that wouldn’t give him false hope, instead she reached over and squeezed his hand with her own, letting him know he wasn’t alone.
They fell asleep with their fingers intertwined.
****
She woke at first light on Sunday and slipped out of bed to find Glen sitting in the living room. An acoustic guitar rested on his pajama-clad thighs, and he strummed Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles. His eyes were closed, so he didn’t notice her standing in the doorway, admiring the way the light filtered in from the east-facing kitchen windows and glinted off his dark hair.
Only when the last note faded did he raise his head and see her.
“I love that song,” she whispered.
He didn’t speak but held out a hand for her to join him. Crossing the room on bare feet, she settled into the sofa next to him. They exchanged a soft, relaxed smile, and he began another number.
“I usually play a song for the kids at night,” he said softly so as not to disturb the melody. “My idea of a bedtime story. My mother used to sing this one to us at bedtime. It’s one of their favorites.”
“It’s pretty,” she said when he finished the tune. “What is it?”
“ ‘A la Claire Fontaine.’ By the clear fountain in English.”
His pronunciation was beautiful. “You speak French?”
“French Canadian.”
“Ah.” The linguist in her understood his meaning immediately. “Not the same thing to a Parisian, I guess.”
“Right.”
He didn’t talk about his family a lot, but when he did it was always with great affection. “Do you ever get to Quebec? To see your grandparents, I mean?”
He put the guitar back in its case and snapped the lid closed. “Maybe once a year. I’ll be up there a few times over the next six months for business, though, getting my nephew Trevor set up in a new office for the company. He loves New York and was hoping to work with me here, but because he’s fluent in French Canadian, they want him there instead.”
A wistful note had entered his voice. She didn’t think he was even aware of it. “You have a good life, Glen.”
He shrugged.
“You don’t think so?”
“It’s fine,” he said, sliding his pick into the guitar frets. “It’s good. Really.”
“But?”
“But it’s the life I was handed instead of the life I planned. That might sound self-pitying or something, I don’t know, but all I wanted to do after college was go home to Somerset and work there. Be able to help my father and brother, raise my kids with Jason’s son, spend time with my sister. Instead my ex-wife put an end to those dreams. So I do have a good life, a really good life, and I’m not unhappy, but I wish I was here because I chose to be.”
“You make it sound like all of your life choices are made for you. Like you’re an old man and you’ll never have any options again.”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “That’s just the stuff from this weekend talking. But my choices are made for me, at least for now. I think being able to see a few years into the future and knowing I can almost touch the time when I can finally choose my own destiny has made me nervous. Like if I don’t grab it right now, it might slip through my fingers again.”
“What will you do when that time comes?”
“I have no idea.”
That surprised a laugh from her. “None?”
“None and a million. It’s like I’m almost eighteen again. You know, when you have a dozen things you hope to be when you grow up, a dozen things you plan to do, and you haven’t yet realized there’s no way you can do all of them once you start on a path toward one.”
“I do know.” Once she imagined having a houseful of children and a stimulating career. Instead she ended up buried in a job that sapped all of her energy and left her with no room for anything else. Having her name brought forward by the judicial nominating board and being confirmed by the governor to preside over the Essex County courthous
e had been a godsend. She was too old to have a minivan full of kids, she knew that, but she could dream about a life of her own again. One involving a man. A child. Maybe this man’s child? “I gave up thinking about the future when I practiced law in Rutland. I just worked. All the time. That changed when I moved to the Northeast Kingdom. I finally started living again.”
“Maybe Somerset holds the answer to both of our dreams.”
They could have ended the conversation like that, but she would never be able to live with herself if she wasn’t completely honest with him. “I think you might be the answer to my dreams.”
It wasn’t the declaration of love she wanted to make, but at the same time it made clear her feelings for him. What he did with them would tell her if there was any possibility their future might be a shared one. So when he gently brushed his lips across hers, then trailed them to her ear and softly said, “You’re not alone in that,” she knew her trust in him was justified.
****
Glen couldn’t wait to speak to her again. He got the kids settled at home, found out what was going on with their stepfather’s job offer, and called his lawyer. Then he took care of his weekend chores and waited hours that seemed like days until Abby would be home in Vermont again. He tracked her bus online so he knew when it arrived in White River Junction and two hours later called her number.
“Miss me?” she teased.
“Always.” He didn’t even hesitate with the answer.
“Come to the Bahamas with me.”
“Just say when.”
“That was easy,” she said, parroting his response when she’d accepted his invitation to New York.
He laughed. “Don’t expect me to say I like my women hard.”
Chapter Nine
Had he ever felt this way about his ex-wife? He couldn’t remember. It had been so long ago now, with other relationships and attempts at relationships in between, and the work and worry of everyday life dulling his senses, but when he was with Abby he felt young. Carefree and optimistic about the future.
It worried him. Not because of her. In fact, he trusted her more than was logical after just a few months of knowing her, and that was what worried him most. His judgment had proved faulty before. Two kids, a messy divorce, a lifetime spent in partnership with a woman he couldn’t stand, those were the results of that error. If he was wrong again, what would it cost him?