“I was just starting to think she’s cute, so you really shouldn’t share any of her disgusting habits with me.”
Steve hugs me and starts playing with my hair, which in turn leads to kissing and other grabbing and…excuse us, Elsa. She has wedged her way in between us and is tapping my leg with her paw.
“What does she want?”
“I have a feeling we’re going to be asking that question a lot. She did fine on the ride over here. We planned it so I would take her when Megan wasn’t home.”
I experience a stab of sadness for Megan. “I don’t know how they could do this. The poor girl lost her mother and now they are farming out her dog?”
Steve beams at me, which is probably a reaction to an extremely rare occurrence of me referring to Noreen. “It does suck and I am a little worried about the dog missing the girl, too. We’ll see how it goes. I just felt obligated—”
“You don’t have to keep explaining.” I move back in for some head (and other body parts) massaging and once again Elsa taps my leg.
“Maybe she wants to show you the backyard.”
I sigh in mock exasperation. “Now she’s a tour guide. She must be smarter than she looks.” I turn to Elsa and continue. “Okay, show me the backyard. At least you’re smart enough to know when you have to go. I am not used to animals without litter boxes.”
Steve rests his arm lazily around my shoulder and we follow Elsa out back.
I don’t think I have ever been in Steve’s backyard. It almost makes up for the ugliness of the house and the driveway. I swallow hard. Of course it doesn’t make up for the inside of the house, even though there are probably less bugs outside and no pictures.
Steve studies my expression. “Do you like it? The pond was here when we moved in, but we added the arbor and benches, and of course we planted all the flowers. The fire pit area is pretty new. I put that in after…hey, look at Elsa. I think she wants you to throw the ball.”
I was actually studying some of the statues near the pond. One of the benches has some kind of inscription, but I don’t want to be nosy and inspect it while Steve is standing here. Plus, let’s face it. I am afraid to look at anything too closely around here.
“Okay, Elsa. Bring me the ball.” Even this cat lover knows how fetch works. Claire’s dog, Dixie, just takes the ball and runs away with it, so fetch is a one-time activity. She’s cute, but I have a feeling Elsa’s breed is a bit more compliant than the wiener dog.
Elsa obeys and comes trotting over with the ball. I throw it a few times and she retrieves it. She then rolls around in the grass, showing her belly. I give her belly some petting attention, but it isn’t easy to do with the mounds of soft fur and her paws swatting at me playfully.
I just thought of something. “Where is Elsa going to sleep?”
Steve grimaces and says, ‘I know, that could be a problem. She slept with Megan in her bed.” He catches my alarmed expression and continues. “No, I am not planning on letting her sleep with me, even though I have been sharing a bed with two cats more than half the week for a year. But who’s counting?” He grins when he sees my pout.
“I can’t help it. It’s what they’re used to and—”
“I know, Love. I’m only teasing you. Elsa is a lot bigger and fluffier. We’ll figure it out. I took the big dog bed they had in the living room. Apparently Noreen’s mother bought it for Megan…well, Elsa.”
This is the first I’m hearing of Noreen’s mother. “Does…Megan’s grandmother live nearby?”
Steve sighs and says with a pained expression, “Oh yes. She lives very nearby.”
My stomach flips. “How near?”
“Next street over.” He takes my arm to lead me back to the house. Elsa seems to be ready to head inside. “But don’t worry. She hardly ever pops over anymore. She did for a while…but she’s…doing better now.”
I decide to let this one slide because I do not want to delve into Noreen’s mother’s grief and healing. It’s nice that Megan has her grandmother close. I wonder if that’s helped both of them.
We go inside and Steve closes the patio door. There is also a sunroom with backyard access. I have never been out there, but since I am not in the mood for any more surprises, I will head to familiar territory. Glancing in the living room, I can see that Elsa has already staked out her spot on the couch.
“No, Elsa,” Steve says as sternly as someone as gentle as Steve can do. “I don’t want her sitting on that couch with those nails.” He motions to her to move to the family room. I follow the dog.
I was in this room once the first time I came to the house. But since I was drunk on wine and sexual anticipation, I don’t remember much.
Steve turns on the light and Elsa runs to a large, bright pink dog bed, outfitted with what looks like little girl’s blankets.
“I think Elsa had a Disney princess themed room?” I smile as she rolls around in her bed, trying to get cozy.
“Your cats are your babies, too. You know how it is.”
“That’s right. I keep forgetting. You just have pet bugs.” Steve playfully swats my butt and leads me back to the sofa. This one is slightly better than the one in the living room, but not much. It’s a light grey sectional with all sorts of angles and chaise lounge sections jutting out. There is also a section in the middle that has no back, only a cushion to sit on. Leaning over that area is a table which can be pulled away from the couch if you want to sit on that section. It’s pretty clever, but so cold and severe for what should be a cozy room. There isn’t even one decent afghan in here. I will have to share the dog hair infested Beauty and the Beast blanket in the winter.
However, the floor to ceiling stone fireplace adds a nice touch for warmth. This room could be improved upon. I don’t feel as much of Noreen in this room, although I do see a few framed photos on the bookshelves. I also notice a lot of amazing paintings and I don’t recognize the artist. I don’t normally like modern art. I studied art history extensively and none of this looks familiar. When I painted it was nature, people, real life. But not BUGS! Or someone with a spike coming out of their head and an apple on top of a donkey.
All of this distraction is ruining the mood and Steve seems to notice. “Would you like to explore the house a little more before we go upstairs?” He starts kissing my neck and also adds, “We need to eat, too. I’m sorry, I suck at that. Do you want to go out?”
“No, let’s just order pizza.”
“I’m on it, Love.” He heads to the kitchen and his stack of take-out menus. He probably hasn’t had a home cooked meal in this house since Noreen died, although he says she didn’t cook much. I am proud that I cook for him all the time at my house. Maybe I could brave the kitchen here and whip something up this weekend. Feeling momentarily more comfortable I ask, “So where did all this fabulous art come from?”
Steve turns around and pauses. “Oh, it’s all Noreen’s.” He glances around the room. “She loved to paint. Didn’t do much the last few years after Megan moved out. Well, actually she did a few, but they weren’t ones I want to display.” He pauses again and says, “I’m glad you like them.” He waits an extra moment for my non-existent reaction and quietly retreats to the kitchen.
Shit. She was an artist, too? Is there anything she couldn’t do? She was probably a concert pianist and played at Carnegie Hall. Jeez. Why did she want to be a science teacher? This sucks. I have been wanting to talk to Steve about my art, maybe show him some old paintings. Talking about it with Luke reminded me how much I loved it, but now I feel like I am infringing on Noreen’s territory even more. It will look like I’m being jealous and competitive.
I seize the opportunity of a private moment and inspect the work up close. This is truly some weird shit, but the strokes are beautiful. The use of color and proportion is amazing, and the images are haunting. What the hell did she paint when she was depressed if this is the stuff she did when she was happy?
“Okay, Love. Pizza ordered. Mushrooms,
right?”
I jump as if I’m doing something wrong. “Yes, that’s good. Thanks, Honey.”
I walk back to where Steve is standing and he pulls me in for a soft hug. Is this to comfort me? Him? I wait a moment and pull back.
“Rebecca, I really want you to feel at home here. I was thinking that eventually you could move in.” He winces at my alarmed expression. “I don’t mean right away. And eventually we could get a place together, if you wanted. I just think it’s time…” He seems to accept that he’s reaching and missing by a mile.
The breath has been choked out of me by this declaration, and I wish I could dissolve into the floor. All the air has left the room and…oh my God, I didn’t let Luke move in with me until the last year we were together, and it was every bit as confining and restricting as I thought it would be, and that was in my own house! My exciting Latin lover turned into a TV watching, dinner demanding, couch slob. Okay, he was still amazingly hot, but the domesticity of it fanned our flames, and I felt like a rope was tying around my neck.
And get a place together? Like I am going to put my name on a mortgage loan with a man? It’s scary enough just sharing a mailbox. If we broke up because he was screwing one of his students, then my credit might be ruined as he moved her in and spent all of his money lavishing her with diamonds and designer…
I shudder, averting Steve’s eyes and gaze down at Elsa. Animals are an awesome distraction for awkward moments.
“She looks comfy, doesn’t she?” I am grasping at anything that will derail this conversational train.
I wish I could sleep like a dog. All she’s dreaming about is chasing squirrels and eating treats. Dreams. That reminds me of Luke. I need to find some time this weekend to read his manuscript and to get back to him. My phone is working now—praise the rice—and Luke called on my way over here. I have the ringer turned off so Steve and I aren’t disturbed tonight. I brought one of my sexiest nightgowns for later. It’s long and black with a slit all the way up one side. But the best part is the top. It has a choker around the neck with two thin sheaths of silk just grazing my breasts.
If that doesn’t jump start our sex life tonight, I don’t know what will. But definitely not talk of me living in this house. If I keep thinking about that horrifying idea, I may as well wear a chastity belt because just the thought turns my sex drive into a shriveled prune.
Steve sighs and drops the subject. “She does look comfy. Hey, before the pizza comes I wanted to show you a couple of things outside and in the garage.”
Yay. Tools and trees. But I will indulge him. Maybe I should add a tool belt to my nightgown and put a leaf in my hair. I can’t imagine what he thinks he can show me that will give me the warm fuzzies in this house of hor…
As soon as we get outside, Steve stops me and grabs both of my arms, holding me away from him. “Did you change your hair color?”
“Seriously? You just noticed that now?” So much for me worrying about the condition of my hair. He was rubbing it but didn’t notice the chemical smell or the color. I wish he would rub it some more. Not only is it a huge turn on, but my freaking head is still so itchy!
“I’m sorry, Love. You know I’m not observant of these things.” He studies my new look and says, “Why did you make it so dark? I really liked the red. I thought you said you were going to make it redder.”
The only thing getting red now is my face. “Nooo, I said I was thinking of dying it burgundy. But I decided to go back to my natural color. Most people say it really complements my eyes.” Blue eyes and jet black hair are a not common combination, and it seems that most men find that rather striking. Luke did.
He releases my arms and softens his expression. “Oh yes, of course. Your eyes are beautiful and it is a striking combination. I’m just not used to it.” He takes my hand. Let me show you the camper.
Fuck. My eyes feel a little hot. I will not cry. I never cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The “camper” looks more like a dirty hovel on wheels. Like something a perp on an episode of COPS would emerge from. Steve isn’t cheap, but he knows how to fix things. Therefore, he can keep his old crap going a lot longer than most people can. It makes it hard for him to part with ancient treasures such as this. All I can think of is how in the hell am I going to get out of having to sleep in this rotting heap.
“What do you think?” He looks like a little boy and I feel like the mean lady who will crush his dreams and tell him we have to throw out his broken toy.
I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. “Well, it’s a good size. I guess.” I wrinkle my nose and wish I had the powers of I Dream of Jeannie. Poof! All gone!
“You don’t like camping, do you? I know. A lot of women don’t. But this isn’t as bad as sleeping in a tent,” he says hopefully.
Tents are cleaner than this…thing…but I am now suppressing a grin at the memory of Luke trying to camp. He is such a city boy, but he got it in his head that we should try to rough it. I think someone at work called him a pretty boy model and he got pissed off. So he bought a tent at REI and all the gear. We were only sleeping in it for about an hour before a small animal ran by and all of the posts collapsed and the tent fell down, practically smothering us in our sleep. The sight of that beautiful, sexy man fighting with the tent material was hilarious. He kept punching it and falling down, caught up in it like a spider web. I was literally rolling on the dirty ground laughing, in a red satin teddy. Of course.
“What’s so funny? Have you ever been camping?”
“Just once in a tent…when I was a kid.” Lies. My parents don’t know what a tent looks like.
“Come inside. This is really comfortable.”
I creep along behind him and poke my head into this dwelling. It’s worse inside. I suppose it could be cleaned up a little. “Did you use this often?”
“When Megan was little we went almost every weekend. Sometimes just the two of us when Megan was with her dad. It was pretty funny in the colder weather. Noreen would bundle up like an Eskimo. She always loved her flannels, but she had to break out the woolies a few times.” Steve is grinning from ear to ear until he turns all the way around and sees my expression.
He steps down out of the camper and shuts the door. “We could clean it up and get some new gear, you know. I don’t mind spending a little money. Maybe before it gets too hot we could head to the mountains.”
Yes, let’s spend a fortune on gear to live like a homeless person. Only we will be at a campsite resort, where weirdos want you to join them in a possum soup dinner and play the banjo. Yay.
“Well, I suppose if it were cleaned up a little…”
“You think camping is staying at a Holiday Inn, don’t you?”
“Haha…honestly, I would really like to go on a cruise.”
“We could do that, too.” Steve would hate a cruise. Oh, another memory. Luke on the Greek island cruise…
“Let’s go check out the garage. I know you’ll like this a lot better.”
I can hardly wait. Maybe he has bear traps or some deer heads I don’t know about. Hunting rifles. The suspense is killing me.
We go in through the side door. The garage smells a little musty, like most garages do. I haven’t had one in many years, since I was a child. Steve fumbles with the light and finally switches it on.
Wow.
“Do you like it?”
I stare at the beautiful slate blue sports car and gasp. “It’s gorgeous. Why didn’t you tell me you had this car? What is it?”
“It’s a 1965 Shelby Cobra. You don’t see these on the road too often.” He pauses and stares at the pristine vehicle. “It was Noreen’s. She won it in her divorce settlement. It belonged to a relative of Jeff’s and he inherited it.”
“Why would she take something so valuable from him?”
“Well, he cheated on her and left her with a little girl. I think she felt she deserved it. She hardly ever drove it, but we did get to enjoy it a bit. I haven’t t
aken it out for more than a quick drive in a long time now.” His eyes brighten. “I thought maybe we could take it out tomorrow if it’s a nice day. After my bike ride. Or we could take it to Midtown to see High Fidelity tomorrow night. You could drive!”
I swallow all of my responses and scramble for a suitable one. “Oh, no. I couldn’t drive something like this.” I really want to. This car is unbelievable. It must be worth a fortune. My own red BMW Z-4 now reminds me of Claire’s ancient Honda Civic.
“It would sell for a lot of money, but you’re a good…I mean, I know you love sports cars.” He opens up the door. “Look inside.”
He was about to say that I’m a good driver, but couldn’t lie. I am not the best driver. I know this about myself. I just get distracted and I’m always in a rush. Why doesn’t anyone else seem to need to be anywhere at any specific time? The whole world is not retired or unemployed.
I would love to drive this car, but all I can think of is that it’s cursed with layers of bad karma. Jeff must have hated Noreen for taking it from him. It should be returned to him for a college fund for the triplets. Or at least Steve should sell it and put the money in a trust fund for Megan. I don’t think Noreen would want me driving her precious toy. Steve doesn’t even drive it! The car would probably blow up if I started the ignition. Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I am getting the heebie jeebies.
“It’s very cool. And it’s sweet of you to want to share it with me, but I wouldn’t feel right about driving it. Let’s just go inside and relax. I’ve had enough new things for tonight.” I motion towards the door to the house. I plan to dim the lights and pretend to be somewhere else.
Steve frowns but replies, “Okay, Love. I understand. It is a lot to take in. The dog. Camping. A new car. It’s all really good stuff, but it’s a lot of change. Let’s get back to where we were before.” He reaches for me, but I take his hand to lead him back to the house. I steal one last glance at the shiny vehicle.
Afraid of Her Shadow Page 9