Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  Dad sighed. "Plus, Elizabeth loves her plants. I should be able to keep things up so she can stay with them. I want to do that, but as was so charmingly pointed out I'm becoming an old monster. It's more than I can handle. But I don't want to admit that. But it's true, so I guess I'm admitting it."

  We all looked back and forth. The raw truth hung before us, too new and sensitive to acknowledge.

  After a few moments of a silence that was no longer awkward but instead felt like we were all on the same team, the waiter arrived to deliver my parents' sandwiches and the big salad I'd ordered in an attempt to knock off even a few ounces before tomorrow night.

  We ate, chatting about anything and everything but their house, and when we were done Dad pushed his plate aside with a definitive gesture and said, "Well." He turned to Mom. "I admit that we could be better off in a smaller place with a little more support for us. I don't admit we're old and feeble but one step at a time. I could keep a few of my favorite things in the garage or the basement. But what about you? Where will you do your gardening?"

  The 'will' caught my attention. He'd committed himself to moving.

  I turned to Mom, who gave him a small but sweet smile. "We both know there are lots of places where I can do it. Ooh, maybe even in planters so I don't have to bend so far."

  "There you go," he said. "Smart girl."

  Mom's eyes overflowed with tears I hadn't even known she was fighting. "I loved our house. All those years there, I loved it. I still do."

  He gave her arm an awkward squeeze. "I know. Me too."

  They both glanced at me and I said, as I knew they wanted me to and as I truly felt, "Me too. And I know Catherine does too. It's an amazing place."

  Mom nodded, and Dad said, "Let's toast it."

  We picked up our glasses and all said, "To the house," then clinked and drank.

  Mom sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, goodness. I shouldn't be crying in public."

  "You can cry wherever you want, dear," Dad said, making me and Mom giggle.

  "Is everything all right?"

  I looked up at the clearly concerned waiter. "Yes, thank you."

  "Ignore me," Mom said. "We're just saying goodbye to our house. And it was such a nice one."

  The waiter blinked twice. "I'm sure it was. Can I get you coffee? Tea?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Lydia, don't you need to get back to work?"

  I did, actually, but I'd never felt this close and connected to my parents and I didn't want it to end. "I have a few more minutes. Tea, please. Do you have chai?" I'd been drinking straight chai, no latte, at Starbucks lately and was developing a taste for the spicy stuff.

  "Sure do."

  My parents both ordered regular tea, then the waiter left us alone again.

  "Well, I guess we should tell Catherine we're going to move."

  I nodded. Better them than me. "Do you need me, or her, or both of us, to help you look for a place?"

  They exchanged glances. "No," Dad said. "I think we've got it, honey." He cleared his throat. "Thank you. Thanks for helping us see what we need to do."

  Mom and I again battled tears, but we managed to smile too.

  *****

  After work, I could almost hear Jack's cheesecake calling to me from across town. A little something sweet always helped calm me down, and the emotional roller coaster ride of lunch with my parents seemed worthy of a large something sweet.

  While I'd been stirring my tea, Mom noticed the bandage on my hand from the dog bite and we'd all laughed together as I explained my dreadful night with the dogs. But she'd teared up again on the sidewalk before she and Dad left, and I'd nearly cried too, and my afternoon had felt just as emotionally unbalanced.

  I mentally plugged my ears to avoid the siren call of the cheesecake and instead went to yoga. Though it was hard to get my head around such a strange concept, I felt better after yoga than I did after cheesecake.

  The Wednesday night classes were all more advanced than I could really handle, but when I told Jen that I felt the need for a little more yoga she cheerfully suggested I stand near the back and do the best I could.

  I did, and afterwards I felt great. Tired, of course, my legs shaking so hard I could barely walk out of the studio, but stretched and open and somehow freer than I'd felt when I arrived.

  Back home after a shower, I took Paddington for a walk around the neighborhood, promising him we'd go to the nature preserve again on the weekend, then lounged on the couch with my laptop trying to figure out what to post for tomorrow's health/fitness day.

  Nothing exciting came to me fitness-wise, but I felt myself being called toward an additional self-care post instead. I'd done my Monday one as per schedule, so I could simply throw up a post about yoga tomorrow and be done with it, but I wanted to do something bigger, less cut-and-dried than "Yoga's a great way to get fit."

  Yoga was certainly great for fitness but I hadn't done it for that reason. Not today. I'd done it, though I hadn't felt like it, because I'd been certain I would feel better afterwards. I'd decided to put aside what I really wanted at the moment, cheesecake, for what would feel better later. And I'd been right. While the cheesecake would have been delicious, I would not have felt as good as I did now.

  Couldn't that be a definition of self-care? Choosing to go for what really fulfilled your body and soul instead of a quick fix?

  I thought it could, so I began trying to put together a list of other things I could do to make myself feel good in the long term. I soon had quite the list, but the items on it seemed so stereotypical. Eat fruit not fries. Exercise, don't sit around. Nothing new. I couldn't post something that dull.

  But I could post that I was looking for ideas, so I did.

  Greetings, all! Today I did an advanced yoga class. I was awful at it but I feel so good now. I wanted to make a list for you of things to do that you might not feel like doing but would be glad of afterwards, but I'm finding it surprisingly hard to come up with things that haven't been said a million times before.

  So I figured I'd ask you: what kinds of things do you do now because you know you'll feel better or look better or BE better later? Toss your comment in here and I'll make a nice list for us all to use. Let's help each other have better lives!

  I kept working on making my own list for a few more minutes with no success, then set the laptop aside in frustration. Why was this so difficult? I knew there had to be things that belonged on my list, but none of them were coming to mind other than the most dull and obvious ones.

  I was reaching for the phone to send Larissa a message to ask her for suggestions when I remembered she wasn't around any more. I still didn't know why she'd gone, since she hadn't answered my emails, but there had to have been another solution other than running away.

  What if I made a 'how Larissa could be good to herself' list? Would that be easier than making my own list?

  I tried, and it was. In short order I had twenty things on the list, ranging from not eating the slice of orange adorning her cocktail glass even though she loved oranges because those slices never tasted as good as she hoped to sharpening all her eyeliner pencils at night despite her fatigue because then they'd be ready to go in the morning and she'd have an easier start to her day.

  Interesting. There was something sad about how much easier it was to find ways for someone else to make herself happy than to find ways to make myself happy. Shouldn't I know myself better than I knew anyone else and therefore be able to make my own list? Perhaps, but there was no denying that making a list for someone else worked.

  I checked my web site and the people who'd responded to my post were giving answers no more unique than mine had been. I edited the post, suggesting that people try writing about someone else instead of themselves, then went back to thinking about my own list.

  Who could I pretend to be while looking at myself?

  Felix flashed through my mind but I pushed him out. His list would be all about 'have sex with Felix becaus
e it'll feel good' and that wasn't what I was after.

  Sasha and I weren't close enough that she'd have any insight, and I didn't think I'd much like seeing myself through Patricia's eyes. Paddington thought I was spectacular, of course, and wouldn't want me to do anything different except maybe take him to the nature preserve more often. Larissa seemed like a good prospect but when I tried I just kept thinking about what had driven her to Kuwait instead of focusing on my list.

  Percy. What would he say I should do to be good to myself?

  Even as the words slid through my mind, an answer appeared, and I added "Do home repairs as soon as they show up even though you don't want to because they'll be harder to fix if they get more out of hand" to my list.

  Good. I thanked my mental Percy and asked him for more.

  It took a while but I eventually had ten options, things like 'spend time in nature because you feel clean and pure afterwards' and 'you do get lots of energy from sugary lattes but the sick feeling after isn't worth it'.

  I also felt surprisingly close to Percy, more than I ever had, even though he wasn't there. Thinking as though I were him made me try to get into his head and I liked what I imagined I'd find there.

  While of course I wasn't really in his head, I knew him well enough to know I probably wasn't far off in my thoughts about what he'd say. The real-life Percy didn't judge me anywhere near as harshly as I often judged myself, and he'd understood why I helped Sasha even though I was afraid and he was willing to show me his own emotions and fears. There were no games with him, none of the play-acting and caution I needed to use when I dealt with Felix and in the past with Damien, and so being with Percy made me feel good and supported and safe.

  He really was such a nice guy.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The change in tack worked for more than just me: when I checked my site in the morning the lists people were posting were so much more real and meaningful. Unfortunately, nobody had added 'have sex with a stranger' to their list but I hoped it would work for me nonetheless.

  I hadn't done the 'one night stand' thing for about six or seven years, but back then I remembered feeling excited and sexy and crazy in a good way. Now I just felt nervous and crazy in a 'get that girl a straitjacket' way. But it'd be fine once I got into it. I needed it.

  It was a long day. I worked hard in the morning, staying busy to keep my mind off the evening ahead. At lunch, I was delighted to be able to take Percy out for that 'you've been on the job for two weeks and are doing a great job' meal I'd promised him right after he started working with us, but even there I wasn't able to relax completely.

  Percy noticed and I fobbed him off with a tale of not having slept well the night before. He accepted that but I felt icky about not telling him the truth. He'd been so open and honest with me about his feelings about disappointing his mother, and I wished I could be open in return but I couldn't.

  Sasha asked, mid-afternoon, if we could go out for coffee, but I simply couldn't handle it. I wanted to keep working and avoid thinking, and the long silences we'd no doubt have again as we faced each other over our cups would leave me too much time to think. We were already set for Friday so I told her it would have to be then because I couldn't stop working now, and tried not to notice her disappointment.

  At last the end of the day arrived. I hurried home to take care of Paddington then warmed up some soup I was too nervous to eat. After eventually giving up and putting it back in the fridge, I took myself and the overnight bag I'd packed with care the previous day out to the car and then to the hotel.

  Checked in, I sat in the room with the TV on until about eight-thirty then changed into the sleek black skirt and purple blouse I'd brought. Once I'd made sure just the right number of buttons were undone on the blouse, so I looked sexy but not slutty, I fixed my makeup, put my heels on, took a deep breath to calm my nerves, and made my way to the hotel bar.

  As I'd known there would be from my past runs at this, there were lots of people in the bar, many still wearing their conference name tags, many male. I got quite a few looks when I went in, and I liked it.

  I took a small table where I could see in all directions and settled down with my phone, which I'd brought so I could look like I was hard at work handling emails and not like I was waiting to be picked up. A waiter came up and offered me a drink, and I accepted at once. The double rum and diet Coke went down smooth and before it was half gone my nervousness had drowned in it. I'd done this before. It would be fine. I'd get what I needed.

  You weren't forty then, a little voice inside muttered.

  Well, my choices appeared to be staying so horny that Felix would have free reign with me or taking the edge off so I could think, and I was committed to taking the edge off. I hadn't felt a guy's naked body against mine for far too long and I would feel that tonight.

  "Waiting for someone?"

  I looked up from my phone. Sexy guy? Check. My type? Definitely check.

  Married? Unfortunately, also check.

  I reached out and tapped his wedding ring, which he'd made no effort to hide. "Not someone wearing this."

  "I can take it off."

  A shudder rippled through me. "Not on my behalf you can't."

  He shrugged, said, "Your loss," and walked away.

  My stomach twisted. I couldn't do this. I'd finish my drink and get out of here.

  As I swallowed the last sip, another guy appeared before me. "Is this seat taken?"

  A quick scan showed me he was even better looking than the previous guy, dark-eyed and pleasantly in need of a shave, and had no wedding ring and no dent or tan line where one would have been. "Not at all."

  He sat, and smiled at me. "Here for the conference?"

  I shook my head. In the past I'd told someone I was there for the same reason he was and ended up losing my prey because he realized I had no idea about his industry and decided he couldn't trust me. "Working on a photo shoot. I'm a makeup artist." Larissa wouldn't mind me borrowing her career for a night.

  He smiled. "Well, you're certainly pretty enough to be one."

  I smiled back, even though I wasn't sure his comment made sense, and he said, "Can I buy you a drink?"

  The second drink went down even faster than the first, and as I insisted on buying the next round I couldn't remember why I was ever nervous. I knew this dance inside out and backwards. We were chatting and flirting and we both knew where we'd end up and we were both fine with it.

  When we'd finished the fresh drinks, he moved his chair around so he was sitting close beside me. "It's loud in here," he said, leaning in. "You don't mind me being over here, do you?"

  I shook my head and moved even closer. "You smell good." Like leather and dark sexy musk.

  He laughed and brushed my hair back from my neck. "I bet you do too."

  I shivered, his touch and the alcohol swirling through me in a pleasant jumble. "I hope so."

  His arm slid around my shoulders, and he drew me closer and pressed his face to my throat, sliding his mouth over me. "You do. You smell delicious."

  I shivered again, heat building in me at his stubble scraping across my skin, but made myself giggle and push him away. I couldn't just hand myself to him. "Delicious? Like a cookie or something?"

  His eyes met mine and that sexy-guy magic took me over as he said, "No, like a gorgeous woman." His hand found the back of my neck and he eased me closer. "I bet you taste the same way." His lips were barely an inch from mine now. "Can I find out?"

  My heart pounding and my body longing to rush in and run away at once, I jerked forward and kissed him. I couldn't wait any more.

  He kissed me back, hard and deep and hungry and exactly what I wanted, then drew back and said, "I was right. Delicious. You know, it's really loud here. Don't you think?"

  I nodded. I knew what he was suggesting and I wanted it. Even more than before, since his kiss made it clear he knew what he was doing.

  "If you want, we could go to my room."


  I shook my head, and the disappointment on his face sent a shock wave of pride and triumph through me. He did want me. But I only let him suffer a moment. "Mine. It's probably neater."

  He laughed and got to his feet then held out his hand to me. "Let's go see."

  I looked up at him, for a moment unable to move.

  You don't have to do this, a little voice inside me said. You can back out.

  I didn't answer. Instead, I stood, took his hand, and led him out of the bar.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I slithered off him and collapsed on the bed with my head on his shoulder and my arm splayed limply across his chest, and we lay panting.

  He'd been even better than his kiss had promised, and my body felt replete and satisfied. I'd been so right to do this: I'd needed the release and the feel of such intimate contact.

  I sighed, enjoying the blissful relaxation of my muscles, and shifted to move a little closer to him since he was warm and solid and I liked the way he felt against me.

  He lay on his back, arms at his sides.

  Not touching me.

  I realized he hadn't touched me since we'd finished having sex. I lay draped across him but he wasn't so much as resting a hand on my back in return.

  I shut my eyes as the satisfaction drained away. I certainly hadn't expected, or even wanted, to cuddle all night, but couldn't he bother to pretend he had any feelings for me that had lasted longer than his erection?

  As if to emphasize that he didn't, he said, "That was great. But I'm presenting tomorrow morning so I should probably go get some sleep."

  I pulled away from him and pasted a bright smile on my face to hide how I felt. I'd never wanted him to be more than a one-night stand so I couldn't be upset that he felt the same way. But somehow I was upset. I wouldn't let him know, though. I could keep at least that much dignity. "Good plan. I hope I helped relax you for your presentation."