Meddling in Manhattan

by Kirsten Osbourne

  When she was finished with her shower, she stood in the bathroom for a few minutes, still fighting her anger. She blow-dried her hair, dressed, and finally went out into the living room.

  The smell of dinner filled the air. That was better. Jake wasn't at the computer for a change, instead he'd set plates on the counter and poured drinks for them. "Is there anything else I should make to go with it?" he asked, referring to her casserole in the oven.

  "I was just going to make a salad with it." She walked toward the refrigerator, but he stopped her. "No, you sit down, and I'll fix it."

  She was surprised but not stupid enough to argue with him. She sat on one of the stools and watched him work.

  He moved with the fluid grace of a natural athlete, something she'd noticed before. He didn't seem the type to belong to a gym. How did he stay in shape? "Do you work out?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "Well, for one week out of every month, I do, but I don't think that counts. I tend to go for walks to clear my head when I'm first starting a book, because I need the extra input." He shrugged. "Mostly I just work."

  "Why would you work out for one week every month?" she asked. That didn't make sense to her at all.

  "Well, I have a very strange writing schedule. I tend to work three weeks out of the month, and then take one week off. So I work sixteen or eighteen hour days for three weeks straight. Sometimes I work twenty hours per day. Then my brain just kind of melts, and all creativity is gone. I work on marketing, and admin stuff during that week, but I also go to the gym, I take long walks and make it to the grocery store. When my three weeks start up again, I don't starve to death. That kind of thing." He mixed the salad while he talked, his movements efficient. He obviously knew his way around a kitchen.

  He served both of their salads and took the stool beside her, turning to her before he ate. "I want you to know that I really am sorry about not starting dinner. I do that sometimes, and I'll try not to, but I'm not sure that I can stop. When I get involved with my work, I just can't seem to hear or comprehend what's going on around me. Let's hope there's never a fire while I'm working, because I just don't think I'd notice."

  Addie nodded. "I understand all that. What infuriated me is that you responded to me as if you were listening when you weren't. I just felt ignored and lied to all at once. Of course, I was still hurt that you didn't even notice when I put on something sexy for you before bed last night and you never once glanced at me. That's not supposed to happen a week into marriage."

  He frowned. "I missed that? That's not good!" He tilted his head to one side to study her. "Want to put it on again later and see if I notice?"

  She pretended to think about it for a minute. "Not particularly." She took a bite of her salad, smiling inwardly. He needed to see how it felt, didn't he?

  He grinned, realizing what she was up to. "Doesn't matter. What you're wearing looks pretty darn sexy to me. I'll just take that off you."

  She laughed. "This is an old, faded pair of pajamas. I know it's not sexy."

  "Yeah, but there's a hole...and it's in a very interesting place."

  She refused to look for the hole, but she knew her face turned bright red. "Behave yourself."

  He shook his head. "Women! You behave yourself around them, and they get their feelings hurt. You start acting frisky, and they get all offended. How are men supposed to know what to do?"

  "Do you want a hint on how to understand women better?" she asked, leaning toward him as if she was about to impart a huge secret.

  "Yeah, how?"

  "Read our minds!" She got up and walked over to rinse her salad bowl and put it in the dishwasher before taking his and doing the same.

  Jake watched her with a grin on his face. Being married to Addie was never going to be boring.

  Chapter Five

  Jake didn't work anymore that evening, giving Addie his complete attention. He did the dishes, and they sat together on the couch talking. "When do I get to see your store?" he asked. He was being polite, and he was certain she knew it. He really did want to see the store eventually, but he didn't have time right away. Hopefully she wouldn't mind if he waited a few weeks.

  She shrugged. "It can wait until you're ready for your break, I guess." She wanted him to see it, but now that she understood his routine better, she could wait the three weeks until he was ready to take a long break. "My parents are expecting us for dinner after church on Sunday." She hoped it didn't make him angry that she'd agreed without checking with him.

  He wanted to groan, but he didn't. "Okay. Do you want to go to church as well? Or just go over there after they're out?" He would go to church if she wanted him to, but he was more of a solitary worshiper. He needed the time to work on his manuscript, but he owed it to her to do what she wanted on that. He should have explained his work routine while they were on their honeymoon, instead of waiting for her to see it.

  "I'd like to go if you don't mind. I've always attended church regularly, and it would feel weird if I didn't." She turned more fully toward him so she could see his face during their discussion.

  He nodded. "That works. And then how long will we be at your parents' after church?" How long would he be away from his work? He was going to lose at least half a day from what he could tell. If he could keep up the pace he had going, the whole book would be done by Sunday evening. Maybe he could get some extra words in before that.

  She frowned. "Do you want to board up the door and live here like a hermit?" Was he really that work driven, or was he anti-social as well?

  That was exactly what he wanted, but he was certain she didn't want to hear it. "Not all the time. I mean, there's time for going out and being around friends. Most of the time I want to be home with just you, though." Or alone. He loved being with her, but he needed more alone time than he was getting. Probably because he was involved in his book. During his week off he'd be craving her attention while she worked.

  She laughed. "I'm honestly surprised you want me around. I was certain you would want to be here alone pounding away at your computer while I was at work."

  He sighed. "Of course I want you around. I think you're pretty amazing." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. "I'll try not to make you feel that way again." He needed to be better about showing her he wanted her around, whether he did or not. He knew his thoughts were unfair. He did want her there. He just didn't want to feel like he had to stop what he was doing for her.

  "How fast do you type?" she asked.

  He frowned at the quick change in subject. He would never understand the female mind. Never. "One hundred fifteen words per minute. Why?"

  She blinked a few times. "I had no idea it was even possible to type that fast. When you were typing last night, it sounded like a machine gun, so I decided to ask you."

  He shrugged. "I took typing in high school, and then again in college. My professor in college walked up behind me during the first day of class when I was typing a paper, and she said she was going to fail me on principle." He half-smiled at the memory of it.

  "What principle is that? She couldn't just decide to fail someone the first day of class!" She was ready to go hunt down his teacher and tell him she was evil for even saying it.

  He shook his head. "She was joking. She said it because I was already typing faster than she did."

  Addie laughed. "Then why did you take the class? That's nuts!"

  "I needed another elective, and it was an easy A. Was there nothing you took for an easy A?"

  She grinned. "Yeah, I guess there were a couple of classes. Everyone does that." He was right. Everyone took electives that were easy for them. It was the way of the college world.

  "What did you take because it was easy for you?"

  "Me? I took an English history class from the Roman Empire to the Tudors. It was so much fun for me! I read the book before the class even started, and then I read it several more times too." She shrugged. "I still have it."

  He looked at her as i
f she'd grown two heads. "Most people take easy stuff for their electives. What were you thinking?" He didn't hate history, but that sounded ridiculously complicated.

  "I was thinking that all my classes were business, and I love history. What else?" She knew it was an odd choice for an elective, but she wasn't going to apologize for it.

  "You're crazy, my dear wife."

  She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "You have voices in your head that tell you what to write, and you call me crazy? Are you kidding me?" She'd never heard of a blacker pot calling a kettle black.

  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, touching her through the thin fabric of her pajamas. "Are you sure you don't want to put your new nightgown on for me?" he asked, nibbling her ear with his teeth.

  "Why? This isn't sexy enough for you?"

  He laughed as he looked at her pajama shirt that proclaimed her the 'Queen of Everything.' "There are sexier things you could wear, but really? This works for me." His hand slid under the shirt and he stroked her breast. "Want me to demonstrate?"

  "Isn't that what you're already doing?"

  *****

  Addie called Savannah the next morning on her way to work. She had nothing else to do on the forty-five minute subway ride. "He's going to make me crazy," she said as soon as the other woman answered.

  Laughter came back to her over the line. "This must be Addie. Yeah, Jake is a special kind of snowflake. He can't figure out what day of the week it is half the time. If you need him to do something, tape a note to the corner of his computer, and set off five different alarms throughout the house. Scott said that's what he had to do when they were roommates in college and Jake was working on his first book. Now Scott just goes over there and gets his attention. Or he did before he moved to Manhattan, of course."

  "Tell me what was hard about your marriage. You seem to be doing very well now." Savannah had made it clear at the reception something had happened when she first married Scott. Whatever that something was might help her deal with Jake.

  Savannah sighed. "You know, Scott is a clueless man. He thought I should stay home and cook all day, because that's what his mother did."

  "I hope you quickly disillusioned him of that!" Addie was glad Jake didn't have any of those misconceptions.

  Savannah laughed. "We had a fight about it, but decided I would cook through the summer, but I'd go to work in the fall. I'm a teacher. Anyway, about a week later, he gave me a present. It was wrapped in Christmas paper and had thick dust on it. When I asked him who it was originally for, he said it was for his mother who had died a few years prior to that. And when I opened it? It was a Kitchen Aid mixer. I would have gotten over it quickly if he hadn't told me the following morning that I must have PMS to be in such a bad mood."

  Addie choked with laughter. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Yes, Scott is clueless all right. Jake isn't clueless, but he seems absent, if that makes sense. I mean, I understand becoming involved in work, but he's going way overboard." She wasn't certain how she would have reacted to being told she had PMS, but she might have set out to prove it.

  "That's Jake. Give him a chance and use the alarm clock trick."

  "Well, for today, I started a meal in the crock pot, so he wouldn't have to remember to get up and cook. He was supposed to start supper at seven yesterday evening, and didn't bother. I had it all ready in the fridge. He just had to pop it in the oven."

  "And he forgot?"

  "He never even heard me ask, even though he agreed to do it." That was the frustrating thing for Addie. If he hadn't agreed to do it, she'd have been fine with him not hearing her. But his agreement? That meant he was deliberately ignoring her.

  Savannah sighed. "Yeah, you have to ask him to repeat what you said back to you, or he won't even know the conversation happened."

  "That's what he told me," Addie said. "I think it's ridiculous, but I'll do it if it means he'll remember." She looked up and realized she was already at her stop. "All right, thanks for the chat. I won't kill him tonight."

  "Good. Scott would be lost without him."

  Addie smiled. "I'm getting off the subway and walking to the store now. We'll have to talk again soon." She could tell she was going to like Savannah just as soon as they had time to really get to know each other.

  "If it gets too crazy, call Dr. Lachele. She gave me really good advice when I wanted to hurt Scott for his cluelessness."

  "I will call her if I need to! Thanks again!" She ended the call and stuck her phone in her purse. She had a long day ahead of her, and she didn't need to be worrying about her husband. It was time to focus on her business.

  *****

  Their week went much smoother after that first day. Jake did his best to go to bed when she did, but he would sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to get more work done. He was at the point where he needed to just finish this book so he could write the next one that was screaming at him. He wasn't so much money-driven as he was work-driven. He genuinely loved everything about his job, and it was hard for him to stop even though he knew he should.

  Addie made breakfast every morning before she left for work, and he did his best to sit down with her to eat every evening, instead of eating at his computer while he wrote. He wondered if she knew what kind of sacrifice he was making? At least she worked six days per week, and he wouldn't have to worry about her always being there trying to talk to him when he needed to be working.

  When she got home from work on Friday night, she sank down onto the couch and rubbed the back of her neck. It had been a really long week. She was used to sharing the cooking with her roommates, and now she was doing it all. It would have been nice if Jake had done more since he was the one home all day, and she was bringing in the bulk of their income, but watching him work, she could tell that he truly wasn't capable of doing more around the house than he did.

  Once she got his attention she said, "Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? I didn't start anything before work."

  He frowned. He really didn't want to take that much time away from his book, but he hadn't left the apartment since they got home on Sunday evening either. "Sure that would be fine. Where do you want to go?"

  She shrugged. "We could just start walking and see what we see. Manhattan is so pretty at night."

  He hated the idea of being gone that long, but he reluctantly agreed. He still felt like he owed her for the incident on Monday. "We can do that." He looked down at himself. "Let me get a shower first?"

  She nodded. "Sounds good. This is a new area of the city for me, and I don't know it as well, so I'll just see what I can find close to here."

  Once he was in the shower, she pulled out her phone and frowned at the small screen. It would be easier if she just used his computer. She could get her laptop out, but why? His was right there.

  The words he was writing caught her eye immediately. "The Sorcerers of Mythria! He's my favorite writer! I married Roger Holiday. Holy moly!" As soon as the words crossed her lips, she was angry. He'd acted as if he made a pittance from his work, but she'd seen articles talking about the million dollar deal he'd gotten for his last book. The Sorcerers of Mythria was one of the most popular series in Science Fiction. Why would he lie to her?

  She moved back to the couch, and did the search on her phone, leaving his computer the way she'd found it. She thought about confronting him, but decided instead to ask him questions about his work, and see how much he'd tell her. He must have seen his books on her shelf and known she was a fan. She felt like an idiot. She'd married her favorite writer and had no clue.

  She did her quick search and found a small restaurant not far from the apartment with good ratings and decent prices. Not that she needed to worry about prices when she was married to Roger Holiday. What had he been thinking hiding his true identity from her?

  She had herself under control before he emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was fresh shaven and looked good to her. Not so good
that she didn't still want to slap him, though. She worked hard to keep her face impassive. She couldn't show how angry she was until she was ready to confront him.

  "Do I need a suit for this place? Or jeans?"

  "Slacks and a nice shirt is good," she answered automatically. "I'm just wearing my work clothes." She wore a pair of slacks and a nice blouse, but nothing terribly fancy.

  He nodded and disappeared into the bedroom, coming out a few minutes later, ready to go. "Did you make reservations?

  "No, they don't take them at this place." When they left the apartment, she locked the door. "Did I give you a key yet?" She had two, but one might still be in her jewelry box.

  He shook his head. "Not yet. I haven't gone anywhere on my own. I'm sure I will eventually." Like as soon as he finished his book. He was going to go and get her the biggest bouquet of flowers she'd ever seen, just to thank her for putting up with him while he wrote. And keeping him fed. That was a big deal as well.

  He took her hand as they walked through the busy streets. "The restaurant is only about three blocks away, so it's not far. I hope you like Italian." She really didn't care if he liked the food or not. At that point he'd better eat it and do it with a smile. She wouldn't be responsible for her actions otherwise.

  "I love Italian. I really love New York Italian, because it seems so authentic." Now that he was out of the apartment, he was thrilled to be out looking at all the people. Every person he met ended up in a book somehow. It wasn't usually a whole person, more just a piece of every person.

  "It's usually very authentic. Often the cook will come out and yell at the servers in Italian. It's fun to watch." She stopped walking. "Here it is."

  They went into the small restaurant and were seated quickly. She picked up her menu. She'd wait to start their discussion until after they had ordered. "It's not a good sign that there was no wait on a Friday night," she said, a bit worried about her choice.