Jon was quiet a moment. “Want to tell me about that?”
“Let’s get under the covers.”
He agreed and we busied ourselves with throwing the sex-tissues away and turning back the covers. “Leave the tree on?” he asked.
“Do you mind? It’s on a timer and I kind of like to see it.” I felt silly saying that, but he only nodded and got under the covers on the other side from the one I obviously used the most. He cuddled up against me, tucking me into the curve of his body, like a big warm teddy bear.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
Uh-oh. “Okay,” I replied carefully.
“I saw the video. Xiao showed me this afternoon. She recognized your name.”
I groaned and buried my face in my pillow. “Of course she did.”
“Can I just say something?”
“Can I stop you?”
“Of course.” And he waited.
“Fine. Say it.” I braced myself for whatever he had to say about Brad.
“I’m really glad you said no. That took a lot of guts. And spine.”
“Well, of course you’re glad.” I laughed. It was all so ridiculous. “It was a week ago tomorrow and here I am, in bed with you instead.”
“There is that. So why did you say no?”
“I’ve asked myself that question a thousand times. And other people ask me. I don’t know. Besides that I really hate surprises.”
“No such thing as a good surprise,” he agreed.
“Yeah.” I watched the play of light on the ceiling, the brightening then fading as a late-night car went down the street. “I really wanted that fucking ring, you know?” I laughed, rolling my head on the pillow. “And there it was, all glittering, Brad on one knee looking all handsome and charming and… I felt sick. It was like someone else was standing there and I didn’t know who I was anymore. All I could think was no—and that’s what came out of my mouth.”
“A valid answer, if you didn’t want to marry him.”
“Yeah, but I thought I did. I really thought so.” We were quiet for a bit, and I wondered that Jon hadn’t said anything to that. “You know, I thought you were going to say how Brad is a shit and all.”
“Well, he must have good qualities, if you liked him that much.”
“Yeah.” I sounded funny, kind of sad. “I did like him. We had fun together. And I never meant to treat him badly like that. He had every reason to think I’d say yes.”
“I will say,” Jon offered, speaking slowly and clearly choosing his words, “that he backed you into a corner. He didn’t have to make it so public. He should have known how you react to being the center of so much attention. And if he really loved you, he wouldn’t have broken up with you. He could’ve stuck around to find out why you said no and given you time to work things out.”
“Funny—I had the same thought. He loved me enough to propose, but not enough to stick through a rough spot.”
“One of the standard relationship tests: family holidays, long road trips, and public humiliation.”
I laughed with him. “Well, you’ve been to my horrible family holidays, and we survived that spring break road trip to New Orleans in that junker you borrowed—what were we thinking there?”
“We thought it would be warmer. And that there would be beaches. We were idiots.”
“True. And young. So all we have left is public humiliation.”
“I’m ready. Do your worst.” He laughed a little. “I admit I kind of felt for Brad there.”
“Generous of you, what with the fall of your rival on viral video.”
He chuckled, smoothing a hand over my waist, edging me more solidly against him. “I’m trying to take the high road. I got the girl.”
I was quiet in the echo of his words. “I’m in a weird place, Jon. I hope you understand that. I don’t know how much of this is rebound, you know?”
“I know.” He sighed, shifting in the covers, not pulling away, but snuggling closer. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Conducting your experiment still?”
He kissed me, then settled his head against my shoulder. “Initial results are very promising,” he agreed.
~ 23 ~
My alarm went off at five thirty, pulling me out of deep sleep. The room was midwinter pre-dawn dark, the little Christmas tree having clicked off. I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp.
Jon rolled over, threw an arm over his eyes, and groaned. “You’re insane. Really?”
“I want to run before work,” I explained. “You can go back to sleep.”
He squinched his eyes against the light. “This is a test, right?”
“Not at all. I just need to grab my running clothes and I’ll turn off the light again. Put the pillow over your face.”
“Would make it easier to smother me,” he grumped. Then sat up. “It’s probably a blizzard out there.”
I looked out the window over the top-down blinds. “Nope. Clear and frosty. Going to be a beautiful day. Did you realize it was solstice last night? Pagans think this is the first day of the new year.” I turned from pulling on my running pants to find Jon on his feet, scrubbing his hands through his hair and clearly checking me out. His erection—either the natural morning kind or all for me—stood out, pointing the way at his interest.
He glanced down, then grinned at me. “Or we could go back to bed and make use of this. That would be the pagan thing to do.”
I grinned back, shaking my head. “The run will feel better.”
“Now I know you’re insane,” he grumbled, and pulled on his soiled sweatpants.
“You’re going to run in those?” I asked dubiously.
“I have a duffel in the car with my running clothes.” His voice was muffled by the thermal he pulled over his head. “I wanted to have it in case you let me stay, but didn’t want to freak you out by bringing it in.” He gave me an owlish look. “I predicted that you’d want to run, at least. Not that you’d turn out to be one of those annoyingly perky morning people.”
I gave him a fast kiss. “Aha! You don’t know everything about me. And I feel good. Go get your stuff and I’ll lay out the tea supplies.”
The house was dark and quiet, and we made an effort not to make noise in case Ice was still on the couch. She’d gotten up at some point, however, because the living room was empty. Jon went out to his car parked out front, and I turned on the kitchen lights. Marcia and Damien had cleaned up—bless them—leaving it sparkling and fresh. Marcia had even set out my tea supplies and two mugs. Along with a sticky note with a simple heart drawn on it.
Forgiven, then.
And a sly comment on the noise they’d no doubt overheard, demonstrating their certainty that Jon would be having tea with me. Ah well. We five had been together so long I could tell their sex noises apart. We’d teased Marcia plenty when she’d busted her cherry and we’d overheard. She deserved to get some of that back.
I selected from the various teas, measuring out the perfect almost-Christmas, morning-after-great-sex blend.
Jon came in, dressed in high-tech running gear. The kind serious runners have—and for cold weather, too. I eyed him. “So much for your protestations of being a lie-abed.”
“I live in Chicago and I like to run outside,” he replied in a tone of injured dignity, bending over to stretch his hamstrings. “I just don’t get up at the buttcrack of dawn to do it.”
“You lazy academics.” I slapped his butt. “C’mon, professor. Let’s see if you really can keep up.”
He followed me, muttering something about morning people and the fall of civilization. I set the pace at a slow jog to start. Partly to warm up and partly to assess his condition. Despite my teasing, I didn’t want to leave him in the dust. The male ego can be a fragile thing, even in the best of guys. But Jon kept up just fine. Better than fine. He adjusted his pace to match mine, breathing in an even pattern that showed he knew how to settle into a longer run.
/> Side by side we ran down the middle of the street, since not everyone can be trusted to clear their sidewalks properly. Once we hit the park, we could run in the clear without watching for early morning cars. After the first mile, I gradually picked up the pace. Jon flashed me a grin and matched my speed.
This was good. As good as the sex had been. Okay, almost as good. But that same being in sync. And comfortably intimate in a way, too. Brad had always preferred the gym and his personal trainer, whereas I liked being outside. I liked seeing the day begin, the changes in the trees, people going about their waking-up and going-to-work routines. Though the sun wouldn’t rise until after seven, the sky had already lightened from deepest night, growing brighter as my muscles warmed and lengthened. I glanced over at Jon and he smiled back at me.
This was good.
By the time we finished mile six, slowing to a jog for the last couple of blocks, the sky had moved into the twilight that precedes dawn. It never seems right to me that it has the same name as the evening kind. The colors are totally different, deeper and more subtle. As if evening twilights are still full of the jumble of daytime, all those photons bouncing around, whereas the sunrise ones are the first and only ones. There’s a simplicity to that evoking of color with the minimum amount of light. I gestured at the sky.
“I would love to capture this blue,” I told Jon. “It’s almost a zaffre, but darker.”
“You think I won’t know that color word, but it’s a form of burnt cobalt, so there.” He studied the sky. “I get that. And the light is right at the border from nautical twilight to civil twilight.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know many things. We started the run during astronomical twilight.”
“Tell me this then—why is it the same name in the morning as the evening? They’re not the same colors.”
“Good point,” he agreed as I opened the door. “Let’s call the morning kind Amanda light.” He caught me as I shut the door behind us, pulling me into a kiss. “Good morning.”
“Now he’s all chipper,” I observed, kissing him back.
“I kept up,” he informed me, pulling off his stocking cap and gloves. “I’ve been training for this day.”
“To run with me.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Don’t make more of it than it is.” He gave me a look as he pulled off his coat. “You were a good example is all. I always remembered how you’d go run on the track when you were upset—and how you were better after.”
“Hmm.” I went into the kitchen and turned on the heat under the kettle, pulling my hair out of its ponytail. “If you’ll watch this, I’ll take a quick shower while it heats. Then you can have a turn.”
“I can shower at home.” He came and looked over my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist. “And then pour it in the thing?”
“No! It has to be the right temperature.”
“I see your thermometer there. Amazingly enough, I know how to use one. What temperature?”
I surveyed my ingredients and did a quick mental calculation. “175 and let it steep for four and a half—no—five minutes.”
“I could split the difference and do four and forty-five,” he observed gravely.
I checked his face for humor, but he didn’t crack. “Then empty the teapot, set the strainer on top, and let it drain.” I poured some hot water in the teapot to warm it up, and into the mugs, too. Jon was giving me an odd look. “This is so it doesn’t shock the tea.”
“Right.” He nodded, then shook his head, a smile sneaking through. “You realize this is slightly obsessive, right?”
“Do you run your experiments just however or according to a protocol?”
“Point taken.” He held up his hands with an affectionate smile. “Pour the water in the sink and then drain the tea into the pot, set in on the warmer with the candle?”
“Yes, but dump the water in the geraniums by the window there.” To his incredulous look, I replied patiently. “Geraniums love warm water. See how happy they are?”
“I bow to your superior wisdom. Go take your shower.”
“It’s pretty straightforward, really.” I waffled. “I could wait.”
“Amy.” He said it gently, but with a certain insistence. “You can trust me.”
~ 24 ~
When I came down, Julie was sitting in the breakfast nook, fully dressed, her hair in a fuzzy cloud. She had her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, chatting companionably with Jon. Who was cooking breakfast.
“You’re up early,” I observed. “And I see you’ve met Jon.”
“Nothing like finding a hot man in the kitchen,” she agreed. “And I’m up late. Just got in. Spent the night with Steve.” She rolled her eyes.
I took the mug of tea Jon handed me and peered over his shoulder—which he put in my way so I couldn’t see what he was cooking. “No peeking,” he informed me, looking pleased with himself. “I have Julie’s blessing, so go sit.” Then he looked at me again. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
Pleased, as I’d dressed with him in mind, I gave him a kiss.
“How’s the tea?” he asked.
I sipped. “Perfect.”
He mirrored my smile, and it felt like my heart turned over. I turned back to Julie who was fanning herself and making eyes. “I thought you were giving up on Steve,” I said. “After the Thanksgiving bail.”
“I was. I did. But he came by the restaurant and asked me out for drinks, and… And.” She sipped her tea and shrugged. “The sex is so meh. Comes of his being stoned all the time, I’m guessing. We should have a points deduction for that.”
“Points?” Jon asked, setting a platter of French toast on the table.
Julie flashed a chagrined look at me when Jon turned his back. “Just in general, you know. Like getting demerits for lackluster class participation.”
“Wow,” I said, taking in the French toast and using the opportunity to swiftly change the subject. “This looks incredible. And like a thousand calories a slice.”
Jon set warmed syrup on the table and kissed the top of my head. “I thought you weren’t counting for the Christmas duration.”
“Oh, right.”
“Plus we just ran six miles in less than an hour. You can afford some calories. I know I can.” He sat and forked three slices onto his plate, dousing them in syrup. That male metabolism. Maybe we should put in the Rules that they can’t stay for breakfast.
“You ran with Amy?” Julie sounded intrigued and astonished, taking some French toast, too, and carefully dressing it. “That’s saying something.”
He grinned at her. “I kept up, too.”
“This is a match made in heaven,” she replied.
“Screw you both. I’m not that bad.” I looked up from trickling a small amount of syrup on my one slice, to catch them mouthing something at each other that looked like ‘totally that bad.’
Julie gave me a beatific smile. “Hey, you found one who actually wants to run with you at dawn and cooks a mean breakfast. Be happy.”
“Coming from you, that’s a high compliment,” Jon said. “Your sugar cookies are melt-in-my-mouth good.”
“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll share my secret recipe with you. The trick is in beating the butter and sugar correctly.”
“That’d be great! Maybe I’ll go buy one of those standing mixers.”
“Oh, you have to have one!” They devolved from there into a detailed discussion of mixers, then types of sugar. I listened, bemused, and full of some kind of peaceful feeling. I wasn’t sure what. My tea was perfectly blended, the kitchen full of delicious smells, the pretty Christmas tree glinting in the dim living room. Maybe…happiness. Maybe this was what people meant by feeling happy. Not necessarily the euphoria of the endorphin rush. Or the bright sparkle of that coveted diamond.
But this. This just being with people talking about things they enjoy. My found family, Jon had called them.
As if he heard my thought
, he glanced at me and smiled, still talking to Julie about salted versus unsalted butter. Then scooped the rest of the French toast into his mouth. “Ready? I’ll give you a ride to work.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to me. “You want to drive me downtown in rush hour? I can take the L.”
“Time with you is always well spent. I just need to clean up.”
“I’ll do it, since you cooked,” Julie volunteered. “I need to scrape and melt the wax off the menorah anyway. I should’ve put the candles in the freezer. Did Ice tell you one of her classmates wrote ‘labia menorah’ on an exam? Jewish pussy for the win.”
“I like your friends,” Jon told me.
“You would. I, personally, fear for the medical profession.”
* * *
I didn’t think anyone had ever given me a ride to work. The frosty morning, the ice on the corners of the windshield where the defrost hadn’t yet reached, reminded me of being a kid and my dad sometimes giving me a ride when I’d missed the bus. He’d always be mad at me for being irresponsible, and I’d be bristling at the unfairness as it was never my fault, the running late. My brothers liked to change my alarm clock to mess with me, and my mother was never up in the morning.
If I hadn’t been sleeping so hard that morning with Jon, I would have woken up before the alarm went off, having trained myself all those years to wake without it.
Jon drove with the same meticulous patience he did everything, the radio off, the quiet soothing. I reached over and smoothed his hair from his forehead, though it didn’t need it. The cut looked good. He threw me a smile and turned back to watch the traffic.
And more of that warm feeling flooded me. The goodness and rightness.
“It’s sweet of you to give me a ride,” I told him, feeling like I should say more.
“I like doing it. If I could start every day like today, I would.”
I laughed. “With a five thirty wake up and a six-mile run in the freezing dark?”
He gave me a very serious look. “Yes.”
Missed Connections Box Set Page 39
