by Hoff, Stacy
“It was fun, Daddy. Do I have to leave today?”
“You’re still on vacation. Only you’ll be with your mom and grandparents. They’ll do fun things with you.”
“Can’t I go to them tomorrow? Sue won’t mind if I stay here. She likes me, I can tell.”
“Of course Sue likes you. She would love for you to stay. But you have to see your grandparents, too. They’re expecting you this morning.” A pause in their conversation follows. After a minute, Jordan’s voice drifts through again. “Stop looking so sad. You’re a popular kid, Marty. We all want time with you. You’ve got to make time to see everybody.”
I get up to take care of some basic bathroom issues, rake a brush through my hair, slip on a robe, and walk into the living room.
“Well, hello there.” Jordan greets me with a smile. “You slept a long time.”
“Hi, Sue,” Marty chimes in.
“Hello everybody, good morning. Can I help with anything?”
“Nope. Marty’s already fed, dressed, and packed up.”
“I’m going to see my mom,” Marty adds. “My grandma and grandpa, too.”
“I know,” I say. “When are you leaving?”
“In a few minutes. Hurry up and get ready. The rental car is already waiting for us downstairs.”
“You guys should be alone so you can have some private time together.”
Marty pipes up, “You can come, Sue.”
“No, honey,” I answer. “I know you love car rides with your dad. You two should enjoy this time together. Call me on my cell phone, Jordan, when you’re back. I’ll be on a lounge chair by the main pool.”
“I probably won’t be back until around mid-day.”
“Take your time. Marty, I loved spending time with you, and I’d like very much to see you again.”
I walk over to give her a hug, which she returns. Jordan stands up to give me a quick kiss on my cheek. “Um, thanks,” I mumble, hurrying into the bedroom before they can see me blush a color as pink as Marty’s nightgown.
Jordan’s voice wakes me. I have no idea what time it is. Through a hazy fog, I slowly realize my sweaty skin has melded to the lounge chair’s plastic bands. Yeesh. So gross.
“Asleep again?” he teases me.
“I guess so.” I blink hard a few times, hoping it will kick-start my brain. Gazing up at the sky, I try to gauge the time. Three o’clock in the afternoon, maybe? I’ve been on the lounge chair a long time. No wonder I feel super-glued to it. “The warm air must have knocked me out.” I shake my head, hoping again to shake off the sleepiness. “How was the drop-off?”
“Not great, though Marty doesn’t know it. Her grandparents were quick to take her outside when it became clear Danielle was going to yell at me.”
Suddenly, I’m wide-awake. “Because of me?” I squeak.
“Danielle already knew you were going to spend yesterday with Marty. I told her last week because I didn’t want Marty surprising her with the information today. I wasn’t hot to have Marty subjected to an interrogation. But I wasn’t planning on telling Danielle you stayed overnight with us. But Marty told Danielle almost immediately she had a terrific time during her sleep over. Danielle was less than pleased. Not that I was the first to have an overnight guest. But Danielle argued it was okay when she did it because Marty was much younger at the time.”
“What did you answer her? If you want to talk about it?”
“I told her she still wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing. Her high horse was convenient because it was a matter of her dating dry spell and not her concern for Marty’s age.”
“How did that go over?”
“Who cares? My job was to drop Marty off, not stroke my ex-wife. Want to go for a swim?”
Hearing all this, I’ve been slow to realize he’s shirtless and in swim trunks. He looks good, quite good. His skin is bronze from the few days he’s been down here. The deep color shows off his chiseled chest. All of his weight lifting at the gym does pay off, not that I’m ever going to tell him that. I stand up to walk to the pool with him.
“I see Barbie wasn’t the only one to get a new bikini,” he says, looking at me. “Yours looks a little too good on you. I’m glad you fell asleep, it kept you from being hit on. From others, anyway. But I don’t want to give away tonight’s agenda.”
I look down at my white bikini. I really don’t look too bad in it. Not as good as him, in comparison, but not bad. Diving into the pool after him, I feel the cool water surround me, refreshing my hot, sweaty skin.
The rest of the day has passed quickly. We left the pool at sunset, took turns getting showered and changed, then went to one of the hotel’s restaurants for dinner. The ease of his demeanor compared to his in-office personality is striking. When I mention this to him, he says I shouldn’t get too excited. This level of Zen, he explains, requires more than free time. It requires an all-out vacation.
We walk around the hotel’s grounds. The wind blows hard. The warm air is a swirling embrace. We wind up by the pool area again. Earlier today it was teeming with people. It’s now deserted. Crickets chirp and frogs croak musically in the background. The calm pool water reflects the black sky.
“Sue, there is something I want to say to you.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows knit together. “Is it bad?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.” He’s laughing.
Well, if he’s laughing, how bad can it be? Whispering sexily, I murmur, “Then I want to say something to you, too. I’ll go first. Kiss me.”
I feel the crush of his soft lips. A volt of electricity surges through me. The current grows hotter as I push my body against his. My breath quickens. My blood heats up.
His mouth is on my neck. The sound of his breathing is heavier now. Jagged, almost. Mmmmm.
“What did you say?” he asks suddenly, interrupting my bliss.
I look at him and can feel myself blush. My embarrassment is annoying. After all, I have nothing to hide. I take a deep breath. “I think I said, Mmmmm.”
His eyes open wide. Without another word he grabs my hand, and we make our way back to the room.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I call out, closing the bathroom door behind me.
“I’d say take your time, but that would be fake politeness. I’d really appreciate it if you could hurry.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I make myself a mental checklist. Brushed my teeth—check. Brushed out my hair—check. I’m about to change into one of my new nightgowns. Actually, it isn’t much of a nightgown. It’s more of a low-cut baby doll sheath in red. Not a negligee, but certainly not demure, and sure to get me the results I want. Hmmmm. What else do women do before these situations? Probably use the bathroom first. I don’t want to have to stop him in the middle of doing something wonderful because I have to pee.
I look down. “Damn it!”
“What?” he calls out.
“Son of a b—”
“Are you okay in there?”
“Fine. Damn it.”
“What’s with all the language? If you want to play sailors and wenches, you only need to ask.” He’s laughing pretty hard at his stupid joke. Hilarious. Not. I wrap a towel around me and walk out, too angry to worry about my appearance. Or the fact he’s laughing at me. Reaching into my suitcase, I take out the little bag I’d left in there.
Immediately he stops laughing. “What are you getting?”
“Nothing. I need a minute.” I lock myself back in the bathroom, glad to have left yesterday’s nightgown still in there. With the floral nightgown back on, I open the door.
“Never mind telling me,” he says, laughing again. “Between the cursing, the little bag, and the reemergence of your full-length nightgown, I’ve figured it o
ut.”
I scowl.
“You may have cursed,” he says, “but it seems I am cursed.”
“Sorry about this timing,” I mutter. “It had to happen during our vacation.” If I sound bitter, well, hey, I am. I sit down on the bed next to him, horrified to find myself getting weepy.
“My God, don’t cry, It’s no big deal. We have a world of time to be together.”
“My emotions get worse this time of the month. If I’m already sad to begin with . . .” A hard wipe at my tears with the back of my hand is futile.
“Please don’t be sad. I’m not. I’m frustrated like you can’t believe, but I’m not sad.”
“Do you want me to sleep in the other bed?”
“Your period transforms you into a leper?”
“I thought you might find it—unpleasant—to share a bed with me now.”
“I was married for five years. None of my problems with Danielle involved her menstrual cycle. Stop acting crazy and get into bed. This bed.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not for something like this. Every day I spend with you is a gift. I’ll take you any way I can.”
I put my hands on his face and kiss his lips. He kisses me back, surprising me by his intensity. Heat flashes through me. But I control myself and gently push him away. “I don’t think I can handle having my first time during my . . . under these, uh, conditions.”
“Sports okay with you?” he asks, turning on the television. I watch him as he tries to slow his breathing back down and focus on whatever game is on.
CHAPTER 27
Returning to Connecticut is absolutely nerve wracking, and the turbulence doesn’t help. This plane’s been bopping up and down so many times it’s amazing I haven’t thrown up. Yet. But I’ve got bigger things on my mind than makeshift nausea remedies.
The trip has made us emotionally close. What will happen when we return to our real lives? Will we talk more than five minutes a day? How will I cope when I see him in the firm’s hallways? I’m no longer worried about dying of embarrassment. I’m more worried that I’ll feel shut off from him. It’ll be sad, if not downright depressing, to drift quietly past each other.
Spending New Year’s Eve with Jordan was better than I could have imagined. We drove to a beach town and walked along the coast for hours. Then we drove to another town so we could see a fireworks display. We’d put down a beach blanket and I leaned on him, his arms over my shoulders as he sat behind me. Watched the fireworks’ brilliant lights flash in the air, the effect doubled by their reflection in the black ocean water below.
Our plane circles for landing. The magic of Florida has become a distant memory. Jordan can’t always catch on to what I’m thinking, but he’s getting the hang of my moods.
“You’re worried,” he says.
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Maybe. A little. Forget it.”
“We are not going to be strangers, you know.”
I’m silent.
“We’ll have our life together outside the office,” he adds softly.
“Sure we will.”
“You don’t sound sure.” Taking my hand and kissing it, he asks me, “If you could tell your friends at the firm about us, would it be that much better for you?”
“Hypothetically? If there wasn’t going to be fallout from the situation? Yes, of course it would be better. You’ve told Bill. That’s given us some difficult moments, but overall, hasn’t it been easier since you’ve told him?”
“You know I only told Bill in the first place because he needed to know. I don’t discuss the details of my personal life with him, or anyone else at work. You’re the exception to that rule.”
“He never asks how it’s going between us?”
“He did ask me two weeks ago if I thought you were going to stay in Comm Lit. I told him, yes, and that was the end of the topic.”
“But I’m not sure I want to stay in Comm Lit. I’m not happy there. At least not so far. The most interesting litigation work I did was for Melba and Gerard. Ironic, huh?”
He simply nods, letting me spill it all out. “Otherwise, the litigation I’ve been doing has been dry and combative. Maybe I only liked it before because I worked with Leila. Now that I’m doing solo projects, it’s easier to tell I don’t like it. Real estate work is much more interesting. And it would allow me to continue with the clients I’ve brought in. I worked so hard to get them.” I bend forward in the chair, taking back my hand from him. “I’m angry about a lot of things. Being cut off from the business I’ve grown. Being cut off from the work I want to do. Being cut off from you.”
He picks my hand back up, nuzzling my knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he says gently. “I know it’s a difficult situation. For both of us. But the price for me to pay is too high if we’re not professionally cut off from each other.”
“I know, I know, if we tell people—”
“You don’t know. Not everything. You don’t realize the full impact of the story with Rochelle.”
I look at him blankly.
“I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to start our relationship with an ominous cloud above us. A week before Rochelle quit, Larry called me into his office. Believe me, it’s not just associates who don’t like being summoned to the head partner’s office. Larry sat me down and told me he heard Rochelle and I were going to go out.”
“I’m confused,” I say slowly. “You never dated Rochelle. You didn’t like her.” I cock my head to one side. “Did you?”
“No, of course not. But she must have told people she wanted to date me. Maybe Larry assumed I wouldn’t say no, given the fact she was widely viewed as the office beauty. Larry formally advised me that dating within the office was unacceptable, as if I didn’t already know that. Then he said if he found out I had been coming on to her, they would let me go.”
“Fire you?” I ask, my voice two octaves too high.
“Protection against sexual harassment lawsuits is always first and foremost on their minds. Correction, kissing clients’ asses is first and foremost on their minds. Protection against sexual harassment lawsuits is a close second.”
“So what did you do?”
“I told Larry threatening to fire me for something I had not done, and had no intention of doing, was also unacceptable. We reached détente, but I’d rather not press my luck with him. Especially when the topic is about my dating one of the firm’s young associates.” A hard breath escapes his lips. “When the associates in question have reported directly to me, the accusation becomes even worse.” He strokes my hand in little circles. “Do you understand my position better now?” His voice is gentle, but the words still sound bitter to me. I don’t want to hear them.
“I’m not happy about all this, but I don’t want you hurt either,” I finally concede.
“The blow to my career would do more than hurt me, it’d be fatal.” He exhales slowly and closes his eyes for a moment. “My kissing you at the holiday party, if we were caught, would have pulled the trigger on my professional suicide. But I wanted to be with you and I still want to be with you. Thankfully, things are working out on all fronts, I get to keep the job and the girl. I’d like to continue that.” He’s now stroking my cheek softly with the back of his hand. “Sue, will you bear with the situation, please?”
I have so much more to say and so much more to ask. But, like Jordan, I’m too afraid to play “press your luck.”
I’m silent again as the plane touches down.
Being back in the office isn’t as bad as I thought. The holidays are over and everyone’s back to work. There’s comfort in the busy hum. Leila doesn’t push me too hard about my absence on New Year’s Eve, she believes I visited friends in Florida. Her only qu
estions are as to the weather and whether I had a good time.
I enjoy hearing Leila’s tales about the party. She’s full of gossip as to who hooked up with who, and who made an ass of themselves by drinking too much. It’ll take her the entirety of this week’s lunch hours to completely fill me in. Her stories are hilarious and it sucks to get them on the installment plan.
Bill’s happy to hear that I successfully finished negotiations for Melba. The four-week time delay I got her worked out well. Her project schedule will be able to absorb the lag without too much trouble. My negotiations with her bank worked out for her too. She now has an additional six months to pay an interest rate even lower than what she’d asked for.
