CircleintheSandDraftFinalBarnesNoble

by Owner

  “But he’s not your type. And he could be dangerous.”

  “First of all, I’m sick of my type. And secondly, he’s not dangerous.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “He told me all about it. I believe him when he says it was all a horrible mistake.” She shifts her body slightly so she’s facing me. “People do make them.”

  I wonder now if she’s still talking about Travis. I hate it when she drops this shit on me, like a reminder of her one mistake in life. I don’t need to be fucking reminded.

  When I don’t answer, she says, “Listen, I really appreciate you doing this tonight. Can we drop this whole Travis thing? Just trust me, okay. Maybe someday you two can get to know each other better.”

  “I doubt that.”

  She reaches over, puts her hand across mine as it rests on the gear shift. This is how Sage smooths things over, with her touch. And it works, as usual. “You’re a great friend, Ned. You mean a lot to me. You know that, right?”

  I sigh, letting my frustration fall away. It makes no sense to start something when we are supposed to be the happy couple minutes from now. “Yeah. Same here.”

  We enter the Fitzgerald home, the party already in full swing. Sage had told me on the way over that Reynold Fitzgerald is American, but his wife Reyna is Tahitian. She speaks English with a thick accent. They have three children, and as we take a few steps down into the living room, I spot two of them, both girls, serving hors d’oeuvres. They’re sporting little white aprons, carrying trays and wide smiles. One looks around ten, the other early teens. I’m sure it was meant to be cute and helpful, but given the background information Sage gave me, it creeps me out a little. Images of children sweating while sitting at rows of sewing machines enter my brain. Sage mumbles something about a nanny, pointing to a lady walking a tiny boy down a hallway that probably leads to bedrooms.

  Soft music is coming from the back and instinctively we head to the large glass door across the room. Sage’s hand clasps onto mine as we walk. Her palm is moist, so I pull her closer and give her an encouraging smile. The lighting above is low, but every flat surface we pass is covered with small candles. There is somewhat of a tropical beach theme going on here, of the Tahitian variety, I guess, since I can now see a Tahitian hut in the back next to the pool.

  As soon as we step onto the patio, we are greeted by a couple I’m sure is the Fitzgeralds. Clean-cut guy wearing a sharp suit and a slight stick-up-the-ass expression, arm around a dark-skinned beauty.

  “Sage, wonderful of you to make it,” the guy says, approaching us.

  Intros are made all around, hands shaking, smiles exchanged. This isn’t the jack-ass Sage is worried about, but still I slip my arm around her as she and Reynold make small talk about finances and his wife smiles and nods. The couple eventually excuse themselves, leaving Sage and me to wander around looking for her co-workers. We stop at the hut where I receive some sort of wheat beer on tap. Sage grabs a glass of Chardonnay. Wicker table and chair sets border the pool, so we decide to take a seat to do our people watching.

  “You okay,” I ask. I haven’t seen Sage look this nervous since her mom was ill. It doesn’t make sense to me for her to get this worked up.

  “Fine,” she says, then sips her wine. Several men execute double takes on her as they walk by. Back in the day when this would happen, Sage would tell me to get lost. She didn’t want me discouraging her prospects. But tonight, I’m the golden boy, so I just nod at all those jealous bastards. “Thanks again for doing this,” she continues, uncaring about the attention. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s great.” Really it’s not my thing, but I don’t want her to feel worse.

  I’m staring into the sea of strangers when the chair next to me slides out. A boney brunette in a strapless brown dress sits down. She has that same stick-up-the ass look as Reynold, so I’m sure it’s Sage’s boss.

  “Christine, hi.” Sage’s expression turns from somber to eager beaver.

  “Listen,” Christine says as if she’s about to reveal a stock tip. “I got an email on my blackberry from Kenneth Boiler. He loved our ideas and wants to meet.”

  Sage glances at me the way you do when your drunk brother-in-law spews profanity at the dinner table. But I couldn’t care less that her boss is inconsiderate. She plasters on a smile and says, “Great, news. We’ll have to put our heads together on Monday.”

  “Monday?” Christine leans forward, hands resting across a small, brown purse. “I was thinking tomorrow.”

  “I, uh, have that meeting with Mr. Klein tomorrow in San Diego.” She had mentioned the meeting, but I wondered if it was only an excuse so she wouldn’t have to stay at Sophie’s party and face Jax.

  “That’s right. What time are you meeting him?”

  Sage lets out a sigh. I’m guessing she’s thinking about Sophie and the party, her grandmother, even the ex-con. She doesn’t want to come racing back here. Her mouth falls open, so I decide to intervene.

  “So this is the amazing Christine I keep hearing about.”

  “Amazing?” Sage’s boss shoots a glance at me that says I’m full of shit and tells me this might not be easy.

  “Yep. Hi, Christine. I’m Ned.” I reach out and give her the two-handed handshake. “Sage has told me so much about you.”

  “Funny, she never mentioned you.”

  Over her shoulder, a few feet away, I catch a guy watching us. He’s talking to another couple but his eyes are fixed this way. I give Christine a squinty-eyed smile. “I figured that. She always says she hangs on your every word, trying to glean everything she can from you.”

  Her pause says she hasn’t quite made up her mind about me or what I’ve said. “Really? So what else has she told you about me?”

  My eyes dart to Sage who appears to be frozen in fear like Han Solo. “Only that she admires the hell out of you. And that she knows she won’t have you for long because you’ll probably shoot right to the top of JP Morgan Chase.”

  Bingo. Christine rotates in her chair, her shoulders relax, and she lets a smile take over her face. “So, how did Sage find such an intelligent and giving man as you?”

  Before I can answer, the guy from behind her walks up and touches her back. She stands immediately. Sage and I follow.

  “David, there you are,” Christine says. Her thin arm hooks through his as I walk around the table to stand next to Sage. This gives me a chance to gather up my confidence. It’s one thing to flatter a heartless bitch, it’s another to stare down a fucktard womanizer. On second thought, it might be the easiest thing in the world.

  Christine makes introductions, ending with, “And of course you know Sage.” I see what she means about the tone. Her smoker’s voice and curt personality make it difficult to determine whether that comment has hidden meaning.

  I force myself to take the handshake David offers me, but I can’t glare at him because he’s not even looking at me. His eyes are trained on Sage. Dick. Until now, I’ve never wanted to punch someone in the face I didn’t know. This guy’s my height, but has a good twenty pounds on me. He appears to be early forties, wearing a suit that’s outdated and sideburns that don’t work. His eyes disturb me, similar to a young, confused Dennis Hopper.

  When we finish the game of awkward smile exchanges, Christine says, “Ned was about to tell us how he and Sage met.”

  It is at that moment I realize that we never talked about a story. We know practically everything about each other, but didn’t bother to come prepared with anything. Sage grabs my hand and squeezes an oh shit. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. She pulls out a grin and tilts her head to the side to touch mine, as if that answers the question. Instead of panicking, I’m suddenly filled with excitement, a sense of power that allows me, us, to be whatever the hell I want us to be. I let out a short laugh, as though I’m remembering our special story.

  “I’ve known this one most of my life,” I say gesturing to her with my eyes
. “She was always a pain in my ass. Yeah, she’s hot and intelligent, but she can be a handful.” I turn to check Sage’s reaction. I’ve never treated her this way before. The eye saucers taking up the majority of her face confirm that I’ve stunned her pretty damn good, which only fuels me on. “I knew she had her eye on me for a while…and I guess she finally broke me down.” Her nails dig into the skin on my hand as I enjoy the surprised look on Christine’s face. David now appears bored, glancing around for an escape. But when Sage speaks up, he turns his eyes to her.

  “Ned tends to exaggerate a bit,” she says with a nervous air.

  I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her body close to mine. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” I give her cheek a soft kiss and say, “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you finally convinced me we should be together.” Then I look at David and say, “Seriously, I am damn lucky. And I need another beer. It was nice meeting you two.” I pull us away toward the drink hut, pretty freaking proud of myself, even after Sage says, “You dumb ass. That was so over the top.”

  “I know. Wasn’t it awesome?”

  Later that night I leave her side for the first time to get her sweater from the car. She’d been nervous about being alone, but David and Christine have disappeared for the last hour. On the way back, I see her in the living room talking to a gorgeous pregnant woman in a long flowing dress. I stand off to the side on some stairs that lead to another seating area in the house. Sage reaches out to touch her tummy, looks happy at first and then, I’m not sure what I see.

  The younger Fitzgerald daughter, bright-eyed, a beacon of a smile, and the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen, passes me heading up the stairs. Holding a tray, she misjudges the final step and a third of the items on her tray slide off to the ground. They’re round, crusty-looking things, maybe some sort of a dessert tart. We both bend down to retrieve them, but she only stares at the pile on the floor. “Oh, no,” she says looking up at me with glossy eyes.

  “Are you worried you’ll get in trouble?” I grab a couple of napkins from her tray and use them to scoop the tarts up in my hand.

  She nods, looks around to see if anyone has noticed.

  “I’ll tell you a secret. Have you heard of the five-second rule?”

  She shakes her head, looking interested.

  “The five-second rule says that food you drop on the ground is still okay to eat, as long as you get it in five seconds.” I pour the pastries back on her tray. “That’s why I got these so quick for you.” I take the napkin, then push them all around so they are in nice rows. “But it is a secret, so don’t tell anyone.”

  “It’s not dirty?” she asks with a head tilt.

  “I bet your parents made sure this place was super clean before the party, huh?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “And it seems like hardly anyone has been over here anyway. So definitely five-second rule.” I give her a wide smile and she returns an even bigger one. I take a tart off the tray, pop it in my mouth. “Mmm, yummy.”

  She giggles, then as if she were a professional, she quickly brings it back to a grin and walks off with her head held high.

  She reminds me of Sage as I walk back over to find the pregnant woman has gone. Sage turns and I see that little girl all over again. Bright eyes filled with tears. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can we go, please?”

  “Was it that David prick?” I glance around putting on the tough guy routine.

  “No, I just want to go.”

  We’re both silent in the car the whole way home. Sage stares out the window into the darkness. Even though it was my initial reaction, I don’t think she was upset about Christine’s husband. It was right after she was talking to the pregnant women.

  Back at her house, I follow her in without asking if she wants me to. She goes straight to the kitchen, fills a pan with water and puts it on the stove. “Want some tea?”

  “No, thanks.” I lean against the counter. “What happened back there?”

  She avoids my eyes as she busies herself with straightening things that don’t need it. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. I’ve been overwhelmed with everything that’s been going on.”

  “The stuff with your grandmother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s it? You’ll work that out.” Damn. I feel bad because the part about her dying will not be worked out. “Sorry, I meant…”

  “I know what you meant. It’s not only about my grandmother.”

  “God, please don’t tell me you’re crying over the delinquent.” I go to her, put an arm around her shoulder. She leans into me, the same way she’s done before. But shit, she needs me. I can sense it, see it in her eyes that something’s wrong. “Just tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  She gazes up at me. “I guess when I saw Melinda and touched her stomach…it really got to me. I’m starting to see there are no givens in life.” She’s fighting hard to keep the tears from forming, but shaking her head isn’t working. She continues in a weak voice, “And when my mom got sick…” then rests her head back down, seemingly too heavy to hold up.

  I understand, now. When Sage’s mother had the hysterectomy, she was so terrified of facing the same fate. Especially before she was able to have children. Understanding is one thing. It doesn’t mean I know what to say. “I’m sorry, Sage.”

  The water reaches a slow sizzle. She pulls away toward it, dabbing the corner of her eye with her finger. “Don’t be. I’m taking care of this. You know the Douglas family, always the planners.” A Barbie smile emerges as she prepares her tea.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She gives me a determined stare, one that tells me we’re talking about something big.

  “What did you do?” I can’t picture Sage with a swollen belly, shopping for tiny clothes. The career woman raised on the Warren Buffet Bible. I take a step closer. My eyes shoot to her stomach and freeze there. She follows my line of sight.

  “No, Ned. I’m not pregnant.”

  I let out the breath I was holding, instinctively reaching out to her and we hug. “But I want to be,” she says. “So badly. And I don’t want to take a chance I won’t be able to. So I’ve stored some of my eggs.”

  I turn toward the fridge. “In here?”

  “Stop, I’m being serious.” She pulls back, demanding my attention. “I’m really scared. My aunt and my mother both got it.”

  “It sounds like you’re doing everything you can to stay on top of this.”

  “I am. But if something were to happen… I don’t want to miss my chance to be a mother.” A single tear runs down her cheek. I wipe it with my thumb. “I feel so alone sometimes.”

  Sage was practically raised by robots, so she has always come to us—mostly the girls—for emotional comfort on the rare occasion she needed it. Looking at her now, it rips me up to see her scared and in pain. I’ve made this mistake before, but I will do anything to take that away, if only for a moment. “Sage, you’ll never be alone.”

  CHAPTER 19 - SAGE

  I’m sitting at a rickety, wrought-iron table sprinkled with white bird shit, staring across at an ex-con and seriously fantasizing about him fertilizing my frozen eggs. Yep, this is exactly how I’d pictured my future when a twelve-year-old me visited the New York Stock Exchange for the first time.

  Travis and I are on the patio at Juan’s, me with a large cup of black tar, him scarfing down a taco plate. He insisted on paying. He offers me a bite. I shake my head, and he continues eating. I watch his forearms and strong hands as he moves them around his space, wondering about all the beautiful things they’ve created before this new life of his took over. I examine his dark eyes, which don’t seem to be as sad as that first day we met. But they don’t hold the eagerness I’m used to seeing in men that look at me. I’m still trying to acclimate to this flirtationship that we’ve developed. Not quite dating, but something more than friends.

  About two weeks ago I’d come to San Diego to
meet with my new client. On the way home, my car took control and steered me right over to Jax’s house. I told myself it was probably best to clear the air with her, talk things over, and if Travis happened to be there, well, I’d just smile and say hi. Turned out Jax was at work. Travis answered the door, hair slightly damp, barefoot, wearing jeans, and again his shirt was AWOL. The cool breeze caused a chill on my skin. His face, dusted with black stubble, made my fingertips tingle. He didn’t invite me in after my reason for visiting was voided. Did I want to leave a message for Jax? Yeah, tell her the guy sleeping on her couch is an idiot.

  “I’ll call her later,” I said then lingered a moment. That’s usually all it takes, but I could see he wasn’t biting. “I was going to grab some coffee before I head back, want to join me?” The words tasted awkward in my mouth. I wondered how they sounded to him. Please, sir, may I have another? He stared at me for a second, then shook his head. I hoped my face didn’t look as red as it felt. Suddenly I was hot, but not with embarrassment. Anger flushed over me. Not only had this guy turned me into the pursuer, but he’d stuffed me into self-realization mode, and I hate that. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying being pursued!

  “You seem like a nice lady…”

  Lady? What was I, seventy? I attempted to prepare myself for the brush off, but I wasn’t quite sure how.

  Travis grabbed the side of the door with one hand. “Let me lay this all out on the line for you. I’m on probation for driving under the influence.” I folded my arms, attempting to look unaffected even though it had shocked me. “My car hopped a curb and ran into a nineteen-year-old sign spinner dressed as Freddy Krueger for the local Halloween store.” My mouth fell open, and I quickly closed it as he continued. “He had his back turned, didn’t even see us coming. He’s fine—only a few cuts and bruises—but he was knocked out. It could have been worse, so much worse, but does that really matter?”

  Was I supposed to answer that question? I opened my mouth again, hoping something would come out on its own.