“I’m hardly dressed for a party.” She sounded a lot more like the Kira I once knew with that, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I can wait while you change. The first returns won’t be in for a while yet.”
“I hate to party crash. I mean I voted for her, but I didn’t really campaign.”
“Neither did Alice, and she was supposed to come with me. But she’s got a test tomorrow, so she decided to stay in and study. No one will care that you weren’t out there pounding the pavement. It’ll be a big crowd, but a friendly one. And maybe just what you need.”
“Well…” She hesitated as we pulled up to her building, and I took the opening, putting on my most convincing smile.
“Go get changed. Please.”
“Don’t you dare say for old time’s sake.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Really. I wouldn’t. I’d apparently been so damn wrong back then in my perceptions of Kira’s life, and I still had regrets for my foot-in-mouth disease when we’d been standing in line earlier.
“I supposed anything is better than killing another bottle of wine on my own while looking at pictures of my ex’s cat. How sad is that? I miss that cat more than her.”
“Been there, but it was a dog. And I responded by getting a dog when I got my own place because it felt too quiet otherwise.”
“I hear that.” She smiled as she shook her head, almost like she was surprised to be enjoying my company. Which maybe she was. “You can come up while I change. I’ll tell you which parking space to take—my unit came with two spaces, and I still haven’t made it in to tell the building people that I don’t need both.”
“Okay.” I parked where she indicated, and we both got out and headed for the elevators.
“Is your dog going to be okay for the night?” she asked.
“Yup. He’s staying at my parents’ place tonight. I took tomorrow off in case we have to drown our sorrows tonight, so I’ll take him for an extra-long dog park visit to make up for it.”
“I’m hoping it’s only celebrations. I know I could have done more with the campaigns.” She pressed a button for an upper floor. “But after I was arrested last year doing a Black Lives Matter protest, I promised my folks I’d dial back the activism.”
“You were arrested?” I was both appalled and impressed. “I’ve been detained while protesting before, but last time I had to actually appear in court was during my last try at college. I work for lawyers now, which probably makes some difference.”
“Oh, my parents made sure I lawyered up too. But not everyone is that lucky. I’ve got friends back east who are paying big fines and such.”
“Sucks.” I followed her off the elevator and down the hall. Unlocking the door, she ushered me in. The main room was…well, sterile was the best word. Light gray couch with nary even a throw pillow. White leather chair. TV on the wall, but otherwise only a lone black-and-white landscape on the cream-colored walls. Kitchen against the far wall with a lot of stainless steel and glass. “This is…nice.”
“Go on. Say it. My mother hired her decorator for me as a present while I was finishing up the move. It’s so not me, but I haven’t had a chance to do much in the way of changes.”
“You’ll get there. A little color would go a long way.” I tried to sound encouraging.
“Yeah. As would a couch that’s actually comfortable. Have a seat, though. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’ve got my knitting.” I held up my bag.
“There was this woman in medical school. She knit through so many long lectures. I kind of envied her…” She trailed off, a certain fondness in her expression that made her look both younger and infinitely more approachable.
“I could teach you,” I offered. “It’s awesome for long train commutes.”
Instead of the fast shutdown I was expecting, she paused a long second then shrugged. “Sounds fun, but I’d probably be all thumbs. I’ve got my e-reader for the commute. But thanks. I appreciate it.”
With that, she disappeared down a short hall, leaving me to wonder if I could change her mind, show her that knitting wasn’t that hard. I mean, if I had churned out ten pink cat hats in less than a week, anyone could learn. Teaching her might be fun. And there I went, dreaming up more ways for us to spend time together. I had no idea what I was doing here, inviting her to the party, offering knitting lessons, but something in my chest kept galloping around like a happy pony at the thought of getting to see more of her. It reminded me of how I’d always felt passing her in the hall…
Oh no. No, no, no. I was not getting another hopeless crush on Kira Watts. I just wasn’t. High school had been bad enough—her untouchable and oblivious, and me falling all over my tongue at the worst moments.
Maybe she needed a friend in her life right now, but I could not go getting pie-in-the-sky dreams. That way would only lead to trouble.
3
It didn’t take too long before Kira emerged in a pink and purple striped dress that matched her freshly applied lipstick perfectly. It was a classic A-line with flared skirt and cute off-the-shoulder sleeves that she’d paired with purple heels. Everything about her said “classy cocktail party.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed. She must have mistaken my blatant admiration for something else. “You did say party, right?”
“You look amazing. Really. I’m just sitting here in awe because I changed clothes three times and still don’t look half as pulled-together as you.”
“Come on. You look fine. I mean, your shoe game might need help. Our nurses wear that brand a lot on their shifts. But your dress is cute.” Giving me a thorough once-over that had my cheeks heating, she shrugged back into her coat.
“Thanks. It has pockets.” I’d take whatever compliments I could get. And it was a nice dress, from an online store I loved, done in navy with an aqua sash and giant aqua octopus on the skirt. I’d felt pretty good getting dressed, but next to Kira, I was pretty sure I looked rumpled and thrown together. I followed her lead and put my coat back on and headed out the door.
“You always did have…interesting taste. All the vintage stuff.” She hit the elevator button to take us back down to the parking garage.
“Ha. More like second-hand necessity.” My parents had sacrificed a fair bit to live on the edges of a more affluent neighborhood to get us into a good school district. “Alice says as soon as she graduates, she’s getting an all-new wardrobe.”
“I bet she’ll be a fun nurse. Does she know what she wants to specialize in yet?”
“She’s hoping for surgery, actually. Something about the median income and job satisfaction scores. She likes data like that.”
“Send her to my parents. They might boot me and adopt her.” She laughed as the elevator doors opened. “For real, though, I’m serious. I’ll give you mom’s email address for her.”
“That would be awesome.”
In addition to being a high-powered cardiac surgeon, Kira’s mother taught at a local medical school—she had all sorts of connections that Alice could undoubtedly use. She had given an inspirational address to our senior class all about her journey. She’d been one of the few women of color on the faculty, and I supposed it was understandable that she and Kira’s biomedical engineer father had high aspirations for Kira. But I’d always thought Kira shared those ambitions—I was still trying to process what she’d said about being unhappy in high school.
After we got into the car, I headed toward the hotel where a number of candidates for different offices were holding a combined watch party.
“Distract me from my nerves over being a party crasher. Tell me about your work for the campaign?” Kira asked. She’d be entitled to be all broody over her breakup, but her voice was fairly upbeat. I liked both that she’d admitted being nervous, something the old Kira would have never confessed, and that she was like me and didn’t like silence.
So, I obliged her, telling her about how I’d volunteered for Simone’s s
tate senate campaign three years ago and had found a taste for political campaigns. When a congressional seat had unexpectedly opened up, and Simone had decided to run for the office, I’d worked even more hours.
“My favorite thing is supervising the college students working the phone bank or doing door-to-door. I know a lot of people dislike direct voter contact, but I love it. It’s like you can feel minds changing, hearts opening, resolve happening.” I paused for a breath, then laughed sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m a bit…passionate. I didn’t mean to go on and on.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re cute when you get all worked up.” She said it lightly enough that I was pretty sure she wasn’t flirting, but my stomach did a weird flip anyway. “And I get you. That’s how I feel about patient contact—I don’t like only seeing a patient once or twice. I like developing relationships, knowing a whole family. Especially my geriatric patients. I like being there for them over multiple visits.”
“That’s awesome. I bet you’re a great doctor.” I stopped for a red light and our eyes met, and a…moment passed between us. No other word for it. It wasn’t the crackle of attraction so much as a deeper understanding, that warm feeling of meeting someone who gets some essential part of your personality.
Right as I was about to ask her more about being doctor, an unfamiliar phone ringtone chimed.
“Heck. It’s my ex.” Kira’s mouth twisted. “What do I do? Do I answer it? I should, right?”
The light changed and I had to concentrate on driving. Far be it from me to stand in the way of a potential reunion, even if my back muscles did tighten as I tried to decide what advice to give. “Tell her you can’t talk long because you’re on the way to a fabulous party.”
That made her laugh before she answered the call. And I tried not to eavesdrop, but it was a small car, and she wasn’t exactly whispering. And it was rapidly apparent that it wasn’t going well from Kira’s end.
“No. That’s okay. No, I understand. Totally. I can do that.” She sounded so sad that I really wished we knew each other better so that I could reach over and pat her leg as I slowed for the next light. “Okay. Bye.”
She slumped in her seat. “I’m such a fool.”
“You are not. I take it that it wasn’t her calling to apologize.”
“No. I don’t know why I thought it might be. We broke up because she’s met someone she works with, someone she sees more ‘future’ with, whatever the heck that means. She’s tired of my crazy hours, wants someone with weekends and evenings free. I get that, you know? But I still hoped…”
“It’s not wrong to hope.” Giving in to my urge, I went ahead and gave her a fast pat. “And it’s her loss. If she can’t understand your career, your passion, then maybe she doesn’t get you.”
“Yeah.” Kira sighed as if she wasn’t quite sure whether or not to believe me. “Anyway, tomorrow she wants me to pick up some stuff I left at her place and give her back my key.”
“Ugh. That sucks. You have a friend you could take with you? You shouldn’t go alone.”
“A friend?” Kira sounded like I’d suggested she take an iguana with her. “Gwen isn’t likely to pick a fight or anything like that.”
“I didn’t mean because of what she might do. I meant for moral support. For you.”
“Oh.” She was quiet for a long moment, then said, softly, “I’m not the best at keeping friends. High school crowd scattered. I had some fabulous sorority sisters in undergrad, but most of them settled back east. Medical school friends are doing residencies all over the country. One of those things. Nine zillion social media contacts, but no one I can really call like that. I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll do it.” I didn’t stop to over-think. “I made Amy go with me last time and Alice went with me for the girlfriend before that. Call it karmic justice. We’ll do it before the dog park, so you have the excuse of Rocket in the car if you need a fast exit. And we’ll take my car so that if she surprises you by wanting to make up, you can shoo me on my way.”
“Wow. You’ve got, like, a whole plan here.”
“Yup. Like I said, I’ve been down this road before. And this is going to go one of two ways—either she’s going to be a total wench about everything, or she’s going to have second thoughts and try some romantic gesture that’s too little too late.”
“I don’t think Gwen has it in her to be wenchy.” Kira had a pretty laugh, even if I disagreed with her on this one. I hadn’t even met the woman, and I already had decided Gwen was a grade-A bitch. “It’s all very civilized. She hasn’t even asked this other woman out on a date yet. And we weren’t even together that long. Four months, I guess? But it was intense.”
“I’ve been there. I’ve had breakups over three-week relationships hurt more than a two-year one.” I tried hard not to think about what it would be like to have Kira say intense in that cultured way of hers about me. I also pushed away thoughts of my romantic past—I wasn’t exactly sure if my many relationships had been disasters or simply a matter of mutually drifting apart. “There’s no timeline on love.”
“No. I guess not.” She sounded so sad that I wished I wasn’t driving, wished I could hug her tight, tell her she’d make it through this. “And I’m not even sure it was love. But I was willing to see. And I loved her place, her cat, her friends… I’m sorry. I know I sound silly.”
“You sound fine.” Finally done fighting traffic, I parked in a garage next door to the hotel, too cheap to do valet parking. “Really, Kira. It’s okay to be sad. Was this your first girlfriend?”
“Sort of. I’m bisexual, and in college, I had a few flings with women, but mainly kept it on the down low. Met someone worth coming out for in medical school, but competing schedules of doom did us in, as did her getting a residency in San Diego. Guess that’s the story of my romantic life—I want a relationship, but my crazy hours are killer.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” I locked the car after we got out. “I hear you, though. I work forty hours a week and then volunteer on top of that and then there’s my resistance knitting group.”
“Resistance knitting?” Kira’s laugh echoed through the parking garage. “Tell me more?”
“It’s a group of us that meet at a local yarn store. We knit things like pink pussy cat hats for protests and blankets to raise funds for a domestic violence shelter. Sometimes we do yarn bombs—cover something public with knit and crochet to make a statement or as part of a protest. I mean, we still gossip and pet yarn and have fun too.”
“I love it. Knitting as a radical act.”
“Thanks.” My skin prickled.
“You should show me a yarn bomb sometime,” she said as we walked toward the hotel. And she said it lightly, in the way people do when they’re not serious about following through, but my toes still curled in my less-than-fashionable shoes. A craving took hold of my senses, as powerful as the need for a Ted Drewes’ custard in the summer. Inadvisable or not, I wanted a real friendship with Kira, one where I showed her my knitting and heard about her work at the clinic.
4
The watch party was in full swing when we walked into the ballroom—cash bar doing booming business and tons of earnest-looking volunteers from the various campaigns in suits they probably didn’t wear much. Giant TVs had been set up throughout the room with closed captioning on, the talking heads discussing polls as they waited for the first returns to come in. No sign of Simone or her elegant wife or any of the other candidates—they were undoubtedly holed up in a suite upstairs, watching in private before they came down, to avoid the media.
“Bea! Thank God you’re here!” Maya rushed over to us, beaded dress shaking as she moved. She was another volunteer, one who had handled things like distribution of yard signs. “I need help.”
“Of course,” I said automatically, then remembered Kira next to me. “This is my…friend, Kira. Kira, this is Maya. She volunteers with me for Simone’s campaign.”
The words felt weird on my tongue,
calling Kira a friend. But, while more accurate, “This is my one-time crush and high school obsession and now I’m not so sure, but I think I’d like to be real, adult friends,” was too much of a mouthful. So, friend it was.
“I can help too. Put me to work.” Kira shook hands with Maya. I really admired her can-do attitude. The way she’d transformed from moping about her breakup was inspirational, and I needed to take notes on how she did that. This was the Kira I remembered so well—take-charge, capable, hard worker, and infinitely attractive to me. It was all I could do not to sigh with all the competing feels.
“Can you both work on handing out signs for Simone? That way when the news stations do their next live remotes, people can hold them up. And we want them to have signs for when Simone addresses the crowd later. Early polls are mixed, so we might have a long night in front of us, but we want to project positivity to the media.”
“Absolutely.” I followed her to a row of boxes in the far corner of the room where Kira and I each took an armful of signs.
“You go left,” Kira said, “I’ll go right, and we’ll meet back in the middle.” Yup. Born leader.
I could still remember when she ran for student council in junior high—one of my earliest memories of her. Only a few weeks into the school year, everything still overwhelming and scary, and she’d made this polished speech, fearlessly addressing the assembly. I’d already been pretty sure that I liked girls in that way, but my insta-crush on Kira sealed the deal. And for the next fifteen years, highly competent women remained my catnip.
Following orders, I worked the left side of the cavernous space, handing out signs until the boxes were empty. When Kira and I were face to face again, I was even more tongue-tied than usual.
“So…drinks?” I hoped she’d interpret my breathlessness as being due to working hard and not because of her nearness.
“Lead me to the cocktails. Part of me is still wishing for my pajamas and that bottle of wine.”
Rogue Nights (The Rogue Series Book 6) Page 7
