Pipe Dreams

by Sarina Bowen

  “You mean ‘no, thank you?’”

  “No, thank you,” she droned.

  He picked up an empty water bottle and a crumpled napkin. “Aren’t you even going to ask where we’re going?”

  “Nope.” She turned around and beat feet toward the stairs. “Dibs on the leftover Indian food in the fridge.”

  “It’s all yours,” he said slowly, wondering if he should try harder to include her this evening. They’d hung out for a couple hours yesterday, watching a movie together during the resting hours before his game. And since today was Sunday, they’d had brunch before he’d had to go to the practice facility for a quick goal-coaching session. But he’d been home for hours now.

  He’d have to fly back to Detroit on Wednesday, though that was still three days away. During the play-offs, he was always an absent father. But when Elsa got out of school he’d have a month of free time with her. How many dads had that?

  Dinner with Lauren would take an hour, tops. And an hour alone with Lauren was something they both needed. It had now been ten days since they’d been together in Tampa. Ten days of only texts and phone calls. He was dying to hold her.

  So here he was, straightening the living room and then heading into the kitchen to sweep crumbs off the countertops. When the doorbell rang at six thirty, his heart leapt like a school boy’s. He trotted over to the front door and opened it to reveal Lauren standing on his stoop in a bright pink trench coat and pearls, wearing a shy expression on her face.

  “Hi,” he said, his smile spreading.

  “Hi,” she said, her own smile tentative.

  “Come on in.” He stepped aside to let her pass. “Can I take your coat? I thought we’d have a beer before we went out for dinner.” He sounded oddly formal to his own ears.

  So after she handed over her raincoat, he tossed it over the arm of the sofa. Then he backed her up against the front door and kissed her hungrily. Her lips were warm, and her body was soft beneath his.

  Startled hands flew to his back, but then they welcomed him in. She made a throaty little noise as her mouth softened beneath his.

  Jesus. He had the urge to carry her up two flights of stairs and throw her on the bed. If they were home alone right now, he’d probably do it.

  With a quiet groan, he eased back. “Sure missed you.”

  “I could tell.” She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed.

  He wanted to hear, I missed you, too. The words sort of hung in the air between them. But he knew exactly why they went unsaid. Because the whole phrase would be: I missed you for two years, dummy. He was the one who had put them in this awkward position. So he would have to be the one to get them out.

  “Come inside for a minute?” he asked. “Want the tour?”

  Lauren peered around him. “Jeez, Mike. Your house is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks. I can’t take any credit. The seller did all the modernizing. All I had to do was try not to ruin it with my old furniture.” He squinted at the long white room with its buttery wood floors and hipster light fixtures, wondering what Lauren saw. It was humbling to show her his multimillion dollar pad for the first time when he was guilty of scuttling their life in the city together two years ago. “How about that beer?” he suggested. I sure could use one.

  “Well . . .” she gave a nervous laugh. “You go ahead. But I’m going to lay off the alcohol for a little while. Because . . . you never know.”

  Right. He grinned, and then stepped in to kiss her on the forehead. “Sorry. I’m easily distracted.” He pulled her in for a hug, and when his arms closed around her again, everything seemed less fraught.

  She tucked her chin against his shoulder and they just stayed there for a moment, both trying to get used to the new normal.

  “Let me show you the house,” he asked, giving her a squeeze. “There’s something I want you to see.”

  “Private bowling alley?” she teased. “Wine cellar? Man cave in the basement?”

  He took her hand and led her through the living room toward the stairway. “The basement is a hundred and fifty years old, unimproved. Definitely not on the tour.”

  “Holy cow—your kitchen.” She craned her neck for a glimpse toward the back. “That is fancy.”

  “I know,” he chuckled. “And Hans is the only one who cooks in it. Elsa and I are takeout connoisseurs.”

  He led her up to the second floor, where the door to Elsa’s room was shut tightly. “There’s two bedrooms on this floor, and then a little room Hans calls his office. It’s full of instruments and sheet music. But keep climbing.” He trudged up the second flight. At the top of the stairs a skylight lit up the narrow hallway. “So . . . this is my room.” He stepped inside.

  “You brought me upstairs to show me your bedroom? What a shocker.”

  “Subtle, right?” He stepped into the bright room, with its high ceilings. “Never got around to decorating it,” he said. “We’ve only been here eight months, and nobody but me ever comes up here. But look.” He pushed open a door in one wall and stepped through into a little room. It had a round, antique window and a painted wood floor. The walls were a rather girly shade of pink.

  There wasn’t a stick of furniture. The room was completely empty.

  Lauren stepped in behind him. “Oh,” she said quietly. “It’s supposed to be . . .”

  “The nursery,” he finished.

  Her eyes lifted to his, and they were full of questions.

  “Hey.” He stepped closer to her and took one of her hands. “I know you think I’m headstrong, and maybe it’s true. But I’m ready for whatever you’ll give me.” Gently, he took a step forward, and then another, until he’d backed her up against one of the pink walls. Then he cupped the back of her head and brushed his lips across hers. “I don’t know exactly what the future holds. But I can’t wait to find out.”

  When her blue eyes softened, he slanted his mouth across hers again. The sound of her sigh went straight to his cock. He pressed more firmly against her body, and wondered what a baby bump on Lauren would look like, and got a thrill just reminding himself she might be carrying his child. If not today, then sometime soon.

  “Daddy!” Elsa’s voice carried up the stairs.

  He gave a frustrated moan against Lauren’s mouth. He kissed her once more and then stepped back. Leaning his head out of the nursery door, he hollered, “What do you need?”

  “Help! With math homework!”

  He cursed under his breath. “I think my kid is telepathic. She hasn’t asked me for help with math in a year.”

  “Must be important, then,” Lauren said lightly.

  Grumbling, he jogged down the stairs. He caught Lauren’s hand on the second floor landing and stepped through Elsa’s now open doorway. “What’s the matter?”

  She spun around in her desk chair. And when she saw Lauren standing there too, her eyes narrowed. “What is a polynomial?”

  “Well . . .” Mike chuckled. “Uh . . . ‘Poly’ means many.”

  Lauren improved on his definition. “A polynomial is an expression containing different powers of the same variable. For example—3 plus 2x plus x squared.”

  Mike pointed at Lauren. “Yeah. What she said.” But Elsa didn’t even smile. “Any more questions?”

  Slowly, his daughter shook her head.

  “Want to get some dinner with us?”

  Another head shake.

  “Okay then. I’ll be back in an hour. My phone is on.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up, which somehow managed to drip with sarcasm.

  “Let’s go!” he said to Lauren in a voice filled with false cheer. “Italian or Thai. You can pick.”

  • • •

  They ordered homemade gnocchi and prosciutto at a little bistro on Henry Street, and when the conversation began flowing, it was almost like old times.

/>   Almost.

  He asked Lauren what it was like working for Nate.

  “Well, I love the guy. But there are days when I feel like listing him on eBay.”

  “Why?” he asked, chuckling. “Because he’s arrogant?”

  “No.” She shook her pretty head. “He isn’t arrogant at all. It’s like . . . he already knows he’s smarter than everyone else, and the disparity isn’t worth dwelling upon. But he goes off on these mad scientist tangents where he’ll hole up in his office with a couple of engineers and shut out the rest of the world. They’re in there reinventing the telecommunications industry, and meanwhile I have to explain to five or six heads of industry why Nate is suddenly unavailable for the conference call he asked me to schedule a week ago.”

  “That’s pretty rude.”

  “Yes and no. His shareholders and his business associates depend on his acts of genius to stay ahead of the competition. So he can’t always be tugged in a dozen directions. My job is to keep the rest of the world at bay when he needs me to. But there are days when I feel like a lion tamer, fighting off his distractions with a chair and a whip.”

  “Mm.” Her knee brushed his under the table, so he relocated his feet in order to increase their contact. Not in a sleazy way—he just wanted to touch her. “So . . .” He didn’t quite know how to word his next question. “I need to break our taboo topic for a second, because I’m curious. Are you going to keep working for him if you have a baby?”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “I have to work. And Nate has onsite childcare. There are only a handful of companies in the city that offer it. I won’t be able to travel, though. But someone else on my team can take over that part of my job.”

  “Your team?”

  “There are four of us running the C-suite.”

  “And you’re the boss lady?”

  “Of course.” She gave him a sudden smile. “Can’t believe you even had to ask.”

  He laughed. “Sorry. I thought maybe world domination took a little longer than two years.” Lauren was a dynamo, though. He should have known.

  “World domination does take longer. I’ve only asserted control of one Fortune 500 company.”

  “The place would grind to a halt without you, I’ll bet.”

  “Not immediately, because I’ve trained my underlings well.” She set down her fork. “Nate has been chatting me up about taking a new job, though. We haven’t gotten to the part where he lays out the specifics.”

  “That could be good, right?” He drained the last drops of his wine, which he’d ordered from the restaurant’s by-the-glass menu, because Lauren wasn’t drinking.

  “We’ll see.”

  She looked a little shifty-eyed, like she didn’t want to talk about it. So he changed the subject. “How do you feel about our chances against Detroit tomorrow? They had a great season, but they seem to be choking. What do you think of their defense?”

  “Until this week, I haven’t been paying attention to Detroit,” she said, and her expression was sheepish.

  “Really? Nate must have you traveling all over hell if you don’t have this year’s stats memorized.”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t followed hockey. Not since . . .” She cleared her throat. “Two years ago.”

  “At all?” Somehow this was more shocking to Mike than any of Lauren’s other revelations this month.

  She shook her head. “It reminded me too much of my old life, and watching would have been like staying in the past.”

  A silence settled over them. For a moment they just took each other in. He hoped she was happy to be here with him tonight. There was still a lot of sadness he needed to push past. He could do it, though. He wasn’t going to give up.

  Lauren broke their staring contest first. “Actually, I watch golf now.” She folded her napkin.

  “Golf?”

  Her brow furrowed, and she gave a serious nod. “I like it for its gamesmanship, and its tension. I mean, the aggression, right? And you never know what’s going to happen with those golf carts. It gets hairy out there.”

  “Yeah?” Seriously?

  She tossed the napkin on the table. “You are so fucking gullible.”

  A bark of laughter escaped his chest. “Jesus, Lo.”

  She smiled at him and shook her head. And he kept laughing. He was dabbing his eyes before he finally stopped. “I was trying to picture it.”

  “I know.” She stretched her fork across to stab a scrap of prosciutto off his plate.

  He watched her mouth as she chewed, and wished he could just tuck her under his arm, carry her back to his lonely bed and hold her all night long. It wasn’t going to happen, though. Not tonight. He wasn’t quite ready to have that talk with Elsa yet. The Lauren-will-be-around-a-lot-more-often talk.

  Better to ease her into it. He signaled for the check.

  In an effort to prolong Lauren’s visit, if only for a few minutes, they walked over to the Promenade and looked out at the river. The Staten Island ferry chugged toward lower Manhattan in the distance, and tulips were blooming in thick beds beside the walkway.

  He took Lauren’s hand, and they walked among all the other couples, as if the events of this evening were the most ordinary thing in the world.

  They weren’t, but maybe they could be.

  “I’d better head back,” Lauren said eventually. She tightened her trench coat against the breeze off the river.

  “I’ll call you a car.”

  She shook her head with a smile. “Just walk me to the subway. It’s the fastest way to Midtown.”

  Grudgingly, he did.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said when they were only a block from the subway entrance.

  “Any time,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I mean that literally. When the play-offs are over, we can spend more time together.”

  “That would be nice,” she said, which wasn’t exactly a promise.

  He tugged her in for a kiss that lingered as long as he dared. “I wish you were still traveling with the team.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then changed her mind. She cocked her head, studying him.

  “What?”

  Lauren shook her head. “Call me when you can.”

  “I will, honey. Of course.”

  She stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the cheekbone. Then he had to let her disappear into the station alone.

  Five minutes later he walked into his house to find Hans on the sofa, and clean shirts in their dry cleaner’s plastic hanging from the stairway bannister.

  “Hey—thanks for this.” He pointed at the hangers. “I couldn’t remember if I asked you to grab them.”

  “You did not, but I just guessed you had to pack tonight so I stopped in and asked them if they had anything for you.”

  “You’re the best.” Mike stopped to listen to the violin music rolling down the staircase. It was some fast-paced tune he couldn’t identify. And it sounded angry. “Uh, is that an original composition?”

  “Ja,” Hans said. “She’s been playing it for a while.”

  “What’s her damage? Math homework?”

  Hans nodded. “Math. And also something about you and dinner.”

  Crap. “Did she eat dinner?”

  “Ja. Some.”

  “I’ll go say hello.” He climbed the stairs, and the music got louder and louder. He waited in her doorway while Elsa built the tune to a frenzy and then finished it with one loud, lingering bellow across her D string. “Hi,” he said when the last reverberations died away.

  She didn’t reply. She just wiped rosin off her instrument with a cloth, then loosened the pin in her bow.

  “What’s shakin’?” he tried.

  “Now you want to hang out?” She slammed the case shut.

  “Somethin
g wrong with now?”

  Elsa looked up, her face red. “You’ll be with Lauren in Detroit, right? But tonight was your only night to be with me.”

  Oh boy. “You know what? I was home for hours today. You were on your phone for a lot of it.” But, fuck. The day’s itinerary wasn’t the point. “You have friends. I’m not allowed?”

  “Friends,” she spat, her eyes flashing. “Mom’s been in the ground a whole year now. Guess it’s time for you to go running back to your slutty girlfriend.”

  “Elsa!” he barked, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

  “What?” she snapped, the challenge on her face clear.

  “I can’t believe . . . No—I’m ashamed to hear you talk like that,” he roared. “And what’s more? If your mother heard you say that, she’d be ashamed, too!”

  Later he’d wonder why he had to go and do that. But at the mention of her mother, Elsa’s bravado crumbled. She turned her face away as if she’d been slapped. Then her eyes welled up. “Get OUT of my room!” she screamed.

  Now there was a great idea.

  He turned and bounded down the stairs to the living room. Before he got there, her bedroom door slammed with such force that he heard one of her pictures fall off the wall, too. And when his feet brought him into the living room again, poor Hans was still sitting there, looking uncomfortable.

  He’d lost his cool and actually shamed his daughter. And in front of an audience. “Shit.”

  Beacon took a deep breath. Instead of bolting upstairs to his own room to regroup, he threw himself down on the other end of the couch from Hans, putting his feet on the coffee table. Then he tipped his head back and sighed.

  She’s a grieving child, he reminded himself. It’s too much for her to process. If things worked out between him and Lauren, there’d be a hell of a lot more to process, though. What would Elsa say if he and Lauren were having a baby?

  Nothing civil, that was for sure.

  Hans got up and disappeared for a minute, reappearing with a beer for each of them.

  “I knew I liked you,” Mike muttered as his hand closed around the cold bottle.

  “Maybe wait until tomorrow to talk about it with her,” Hans said quietly.