She slid open the window. “Damon, do you mind stopping at the diner? I’m in the mood for a sandwich from there.”
“Not at all, miss,” he said. “Under the Brooklyn Bridge?”
“Right.”
Surprising Michael with food was a trick she had learned that most men liked. She’d get food for six people and let him choose what he wanted. That and a bottle of red wine would help her get through the worst of this mania she was experiencing. She’d fuck Michael later, and that would take care of the need for attention, too. He had everything she desired, and as long as she kept her sordid needs in check, their relationship would probably last a long time.
The association with Michael was also good for constantly feeding her ego. Their picture had appeared in several publications in the past week.
“Look at this!” Michael had held out New York Magazine. They had been walking home from the movies, and a newsstand on the corner had the cover on display. “It’s us!”
Taking it from him, she noted that her hair was too long. But other than that, it was a gorgeous picture of them walking down Broadway. She was getting used to having her picture taken—traveling with Michael did have its perks, and he was sought after for his opinions and his looks. Every hospital function they went to was memorialized in photos for public consumption.
It was the sort of high life she’d longed for, what Jack had said he wanted to give her if he wasn’t married, if he had lived. Now she had a living guy with morals who wanted her. She’d keep giving herself these pep talks when the urge to stray became tempting. Michael was worth the sacrifice.
She ordered the food online, and Damon went inside to get it. He even helped her take it up to the penthouse, leaving the limo on the street with its flashers on. It was just another thing that made her feel special. Stupid, superficial stuff, considering she’d taken the subway most of her life.
“I’m home!” she called when the elevator doors opened.
She threw her purse onto the console and took the bags from Damon. “Thank you for rescuing me today,” she said. “That was quite a ride.”
“I’m glad I could help out, miss,” he said. “See you Monday?”
“Yes, unless tomorrow brings something I have to do.”
It didn’t dawn on her that he might need or desire a day off.
“Okay then, so long,” he said, pushing the button to get out of there.
Damon had driven Sandra for a few years now, and he was amazed by how little interaction she had with him or others he’d seen serve her—the doorman at her former office building, her husband, whom Damon had seen with the small Latino woman he thought was the nanny when they went to the park today. He wondered what would happen once Sandra realized that they were a couple. He’d seen it across the park, the tall lanky guy in his bulky jacket and silly knitted cap, and the little woman holding the bundled-up child. That was a family.
Chapter 9
Sandra took her coat off and hung it in the closet. She had dressed for the tundra, long johns, black yoga pants, a turtleneck under a black cashmere sweater. Michael walked out of the back bedroom.
“I didn’t hear you come in! Sorry, hotness,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss.
Michael was so proper, his clothes were all monogramed, and he even had that little name for Sandra. Hotness. At first she liked it. But then he used it in public, calling her that when they were shopping together. If it was picked up on, she’d never live it down. Now, after the debacle with Brent, hearing it made her skin crawl.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him long and hard.
“Wow, that was nice,” he said when she pulled back.
“Honey,” she said, never a user of endearments, her gorge rising, “do me a favor. Only call me that when we’re in bed. I’ll blow you right now if you promise me to do that.”
Sputtering, hearing that word from her, especially when she was fully dressed, was a shock. But it had the right effect because he immediately got an erection.
“Okay! I’ll never call you that name unless I’m inside you,” he said, kissing her again. “Thank you so much for the offer, but we can wait until later. I know you had a rough morning.”
“No, not really. Just driving through the snowstorm from hell, being snubbed by my own child, and then chastised by a small-town cop. All in a day’s work.”
“Well, I’m sorry you went through that. Here are your packages, by the way. Thank you for bringing home food! This all smells wonderful.”
“Diner food, pure and simple.” She took containers out of the bag. “Spaghetti and meatballs—have the Tums available—and the piece de resistance, chicken croquettes with mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“Another ten pounds.” He patted his belly.
After unpacking the food, she got busy with her contracts. Sandra didn’t notice Michael texting, preoccupied, until she got plates out of the cabinet.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she finally said.
“My kids want to stop by. Are you okay with that?”
“All of them?”
“The two girls. They’re in the city this weekend, and their plans were canceled because of the snow. I haven’t seen my children since Jenna and I got married. Before that, actually. They never even acknowledged her death.”
“Michael, I’m so sorry.” His kids sounded like creeps, and now she had to meet them. “Maybe I should make myself scarce.”
“Where would you go?”
“Back to my own place! I kept it for such a time as this,” she answered poetically.
“No, don’t do that. Just meet them. I want to marry you anyway, so they might as well find out now instead of waiting until the invitation arrives.”
Sandra couldn’t help it, but he was charming her. As much as she fought it, an uncustomary giggling erupted from her.
“I guess I have to be divorced first,” she said, as good an excuse as any to never get married, to Michael or anyone else.
“Yes, that would help. Are you ready to talk about what happened today?” he asked softly.
“Nothing more than what I already told you,” she said, flipping through papers.
“What was it like to see Tim?”
She stopped and looked off into space. “Tim. He was just there. Frankly, I didn’t really look at him. Valarie was standing close to him. Their height discrepancy is huge. He’s like a foot taller than she is. She was holding Brent. I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “They looked like a poor couple. Not a bestselling author living on the beach in Babylon.”
“Is that where they ended up?”
“Yes. He’s living with Lisa. Come to think of it, I wonder why Valarie was there on a Saturday. She usually gets one of her cousins to do the weekend.”
“Do you think she’s living there?” Michael asked, the pieces of the story falling neatly into place.
Sandra looked at him. “You mean romantically? Jeez, I wouldn’t put it past him. He leaves me because he hears you’re at my apartment; then he’s living with the nanny. Boy, that’s so typical. Thanks, Michael. Now I’ll picture him humping her, his long body and her short one.”
He said something else, but Sandra wasn’t listening to him.
“I have to do a little work before I eat. Help yourself.”
“What do you want?”
“The hot turkey. You know I’ll only eat a bite.”
She took her papers and disappeared down the hallway into the room that had at one time been Gloria Jean’s nursery. It still smelled like zinc oxide ointment, and she planned on asking Michael to have the carpeting ripped up.
He’d never mentioned what time his daughters were coming to invade. They had a lot of nerve. She remembered her own father, how he’d have killed before he allowed anyone to come between him and his daughters. The love he had for his wife was so deep that he dropped dead at her funeral. That was a love that surpassed understanding. An errant tear escaped her eye,
but she didn’t even notice it.
Sandra didn’t think she’d ever have that kind of love in her life. Being with a man was a measure of what they could do for her. With Michael, so far he’d checked all the important boxes off. He was smart, terrific looking, a great lover, and more importantly, he was wealthy. Jack had had a little more panache, but he was a terrible lover. And Jack had been married. Although Ashton had told her Jack was going to leave Pam, he never did because he died instead. Michael was alive and single.
“Why on earth are you thinking about Jack?” she asked the air.
“Knock, knock,” Michael said, peeking his head in. “They’re here.”
“Okay, I’ll be right out,” she said.
Going into the master bathroom first, she took a look in the mirror. The tear streaks surprised her, so she washed her face. She’d put the charm on for Michael’s sake. Their voices echoed down the hall. She saw them before they saw her, two beautiful young women with attractive men. The appearance of the ex-wife had never crossed her mind, but these two young people didn’t look like Michael, who although handsome, had dark eyes and ruddy skin. His girls were gorgeous with ivory complexions, raven hair and green eyes. They could be Sandra’s sisters.
“Here she is,” Michael said, reaching out for her. “Sandra, this is Alexandra and Morgan, and their friends, Brian and Todd.”
Sandra was still back with the two girls, who were as taken aback by her clean-scrubbed appearance as she was by theirs.
“How nice to meet you,” Sandra said. “Have a seat.”
She pointed to the large living room off the kitchen, an uncomfortable space that Sandra decided right then to remedy.
“Dad, this is so you,” Alexandra said. “About as uncomfortable as possible.”
“I was just thinking it might be time to get rid of the bachelor-pad decorating,” Sandra replied.
Michael just looked confused, but happy that his children seemed to latch on to Sandra right away.
The news was that daughter Morgan and one of the young men, Brian, were engaged. Sandra felt sad for Michael; there was a hint of a request for money to pay for the wedding. Evidently, the mother didn’t want to foot the bill alone. And it was going to be big.
“You’ll walk me down the aisle, right, Dad?” Morgan asked.
“If you want me to,” he replied. “No one called me after Jenna died, and now out of the blue you want me to walk you down the aisle. I don’t get it.”
They didn’t respond right away, the girls clearly embarrassed. Sandra cringed.
“I’m sorry for my part,” Morgan said. “You never bothered to introduce us, so I figured it was okay to let it go.”
“Dad, she’s only been gone for a few months, and you’re already living with someone else, so why make an issue out of us? I don’t get it.”
“Girls, my wife died. Whether you met her or not, if you cared about me, I feel like you would have called me to at least say you were sorry. I mean, she fell off a cliff, for God’s sake, and not a word.”
“You’ve got a point, Dad. I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “But now we’ve met Sandra, and I would love for her to come to my wedding!”
The next hour was spent talking about the wedding and its various satellite celebrations, including the bridal shower, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding breakfast. Evidently, they planned on having the whole grand lineup of events.
As dinner approached, they decided they’d go out to one of SoHo’s fabulous eateries in spite of the refrigerator full of untouched diner meals. After a few drinks, the conversation became lively, almost raucous, with other diners either looking at them with amusement or with disdain. But the management never asked them to keep it down.
They parted ways at the door, vowing to stay in touch as the date grew closer, in just six months. The young people watched their father get into a limo with the beautiful woman not much older than they were.
“I have a feeling there’s going to be bloodshed when your mother sees Sandra,” Brian said.
“Boy oh boy, you’re not kidding. Mom’s going to have a cow.”
“About which part? That she could be her kid? Or that she looks exactly like Mom did when she was our age?”
“She could be your sister,” Brian said. “It’s kind of creepy.”
“Our dad would never do anything inappropriate. He just likes beautiful women.”
“I saw pictures of that last one. She was more like a gnome than a woman,” Morgan said, her nostrils flared.
“She was just small.”
“You mean short. And she was almost as wide as she was tall.”
“You are both mean,” Brian said. “I saw a picture of her in the paper wearing running clothes, and her thighs were awesome.”
“Great. Now I find out that the guy I’m going to marry likes round women and I’m a stick.”
“Ha! If you’re a stick, then I’m a skeleton. What do you think of the new one?” Alexandra asked. “Seriously, besides the looks.”
“I’m going to google her as soon as we get home.”
“Do it on your phone,” Morgan said. “I don’t want to wait.”
“It’s too cold. Someone stick your hand out. It wasn’t very nice of our dad not to offer us a ride.”
“He was too busy sucking up to his young girlfriend. I bet they go home and have wild sex,” Brian said.
“That’s gross,” Morgan said.
“No, it’s not. He’s handsome and she’s gorgeous. I’d like to be a fly on the wall.”
“I don’t want to think about my dad having sex,” Morgan complained.
“I saw them doing it. I mean Mom and Dad,” Alexandra said.
“You didn’t!” Morgan cried. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m drunk, but I saw them. I just realized this minute that when they got the divorce, when Mom went off with Dad’s best friend, what a betrayal that was. She fucked our father until he cried—I mean that literally—and all the while she was fucking his best friend.”
“Jeez, your language, Alex,” Morgan said. “Tone it down, please. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Tough! It makes me so sad for Dad. Mom tried to make it seem like he deserved it because he was such a lousy husband.”
“Women don’t place a high enough price tag on their vaginas,” Brian said. “You could rule the world with those things.”
“Poor Dad. He didn’t even date for a long time after the divorce. I saw the photos of him alone at events. Mom would try to hide them from us. He was alone all that time while she was with his best friend.”
“I’m rethinking getting married,” Brian said. “You’re freaking me out.”
“I’m sorry,” Morgan replied. “I guess we have a fifty percent chance of making it.”
“Divorce isn’t an option for me,” he said. “We’ll have to work at staying in love. You can’t take that for granted.”
“Dude, isn’t that something the woman usually harps on?” Todd asked. “You sound like a chick.”
“Too bad. We’re getting ready to buy a one-bedroom apartment together that cost over a million bucks. Tell me now if you’re not going to put one hundred percent into making this work.”
“I’ll do what I have to to keep you interested, and I’m counting on you to do the same. Obviously, my dad wasn’t doing it for her, or she wouldn’t have hopped into bed with that prick.”
“You love her husband, Morgan! What’s with the sudden animosity?” Alexandra asked.
“Your ill-timed description of Mom in bed with Dad, that’s what. Every thought you have doesn’t have to be shared.”
“Yeah, thanks, Alex,” Brian said. “Now I’m really thinking we need to postpone the wedding.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Morgan asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.
“No, I sure as hell am not. We need to say goodnight to our friends and work this out alone because I’ve got a case of cold feet.”
“Bu
t I thought you love me?” she cried, drunk.
“I do, but I can be with you, loving you, and not get married.”
“So you’re saying we won’t break up, just not get married?” Morgan asked.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
They were standing in front of a tavern with live music, the sounds of a moody saxophone echoing out into the street.
“Let’s go inside. I’m starting to sober up, and if you’re breaking our engagement, I want to be good and drunk.”
“I’m all for anything that allows heavy drinking,” Todd said.
“Shut up, Todd.”
The couples disappeared into the dark space, their arguing becoming fainter after the doors closed.
Sandra sat close to Michael, holding his hand, her head back against the seat of the car with her eyes closed. He watched the scenery pass by, a quiet night in the city.
“I love it after a snowstorm. Everything is hushed.”
Sandra sat up, reaching over to shut the window between them and the driver. Then she kissed him, her hand behind his neck, not expecting anything in return, just for Michael to know she wanted him, that she appreciated him. Her hand sought him under his coat; she inched up the inside of his thigh to his crotch, stroking him. It didn’t take Michael long before he pulled her yoga pants down below her bottom. Unzipping his own pants took longer, and he was ready to burst by the time she sat on it, slow and easy until he grabbed her around the waist and drove into her.
They were silent for another minute. “We’re almost home,” she whispered, getting off his lap. They adjusted their clothes and checked for DNA evidence on the seat.
The car was now redolent with the smell of sex and his semen, and he quickly rolled down the window. Rubbing his face, he burst out laughing.
Touch Me When We're Dancing Page 11
