“Not at this exact moment, but I’m hoping you might be interrupting something later.”
“Eww.”
“Hey, you asked.” She doesn’t have to sound so disgusted. We pour our coffee and doctor it with all kinds of flavored creams and sugars, turning when Will emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and fully dressed. Damn.
“Who wants breakfast? My treat.” His happy Will grin is back in place. It’s clear this is a man who needs his morning shower.
We send Will off to pick up breakfast tacos, and settle down on the couch with fresh cups of coffee and some morning yak. “Do you want The View or Kelly Ripa?”
“You know I can’t do The View,” Jen sneers. “It drives me to violence.”
“Kelly it is.” We watch in companionable silence until the first commercial for Swiffer wipes comes on.
“So, did you tell him about LSU?”
I rest my coffee between my knees and rub my eyes. “Yes,” I murmur.
“How’d it go?”
“We kind of got into a fight, then we decided to just ignore the whole thing. That’s what healthy couples do, right?”
“Totally.”
“Because, you know, we’ll work something out,” I hedge, rubbing my fingertip around the edge of my coffee cup.
“Of course you will.”
“Are you humoring me?”
“Of course I am.” We grin at each other.
“What would you do if you were me?” I ask finally.
“Pluck my eyebrows. Get my hair highlighted. Exfoliate.”
“God, you’re a bitch.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Chapter Seventeen
After four days of pretending that nothing is happening, I wake up on Friday morning with an impending sense of doom. Today is the day that I’m supposed to call Dr. Richards at LSU with my answer, but I’m no closer to a decision than I was on the day of the race. The serious, mature talk that Will and I had committed to never actually happens, and Will spends the week calling all of his contacts at Tulane and Xavier, the schools with the best political science departments in New Orleans. When I remind him that I haven’t made my decision yet, he just kisses the top of my head and says “You’re going to take that job”. Seriously, it’s getting irritating.
I decide to teach my class before I call Dr. Richards. After giving a ninety-minute lecture on market protectionism that is as scintillating as a double root canal, I shuffle back down the hall despondently.
I’m going to take the job. I have to take the job. I just wish I didn’t feel like utter shit about it.
When I get to my office, Jen is already situated behind my desk, eating Greek yogurt from the mini-fridge. Instead of pissing me off, it just makes me sad—who’s going to break into my office and steal my food in Baton Rouge?
“Hey, Soul Sista,” she says around the spoon in her mouth.
“Hey. I don’t mean to be rude, but would you please move your happy ass away from my desk? I’ve got a call to make.” My voice shakes a little, and Jen looks appropriately chagrined.
“So, what’s the big decision?” She moves and sits on the back of my credenza.
“I don’t know. I mean, I do know, but I don’t really want it to be true. Can I just sit here and whine to you for a few minutes?”
“Sure, if I can have another yogurt. I’m starving.”
“Help yourself. I can’t stand the thought of food right now.” Seriously, the smell of the yogurt cup in Jen’s hand is making me nauseous.
“Oh, Drama Mama…why must you make everything so complicated?”
“You’re going to insult me now, aren’t you?” I ask weakly.
“No, I’m just going to ask you a few gentle questions.” She crosses her legs and tosses her empty yogurt cup in the trashcan.
“You’re nothing if not gentle.”
“Why are you taking this job?” She blurts at me.
“Because I have worked towards this goal for the past seven years, and I can’t turn down this opportunity?”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t! What if I don’t get another offer?”
“Yeah, what if you don’t get another offer? What would you do?”
I exhale slowly and really think about it for a moment. “Well, I guess I would start applying for jobs around here. At some of the private colleges in town, and maybe a community college or two.”
“Would that upset you?” She asked pointedly.
“I guess. I mean, I’d probably feel like a failure. I’ve been shooting for the big time, Tier One schools.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’? It’s just what I need to do.” She’s being deliberately obtuse, and it’s starting to tick me off.
“What—you need to be the best?”
“No, not the best,” I huff. “I just need to be my best.”
“This isn’t a Gatorade commercial, Luce. Why can’t you be your best at a smaller college here in Houston, surrounded by your friends and your family and the love of your frickin’ life?”
“Because that’s not what I’ve been aiming towards. My work would be wasted at a teaching college, I need to be at a research institution.”
“God, when did you become such a fucking snob?” Okay, she’s not kidding now--she looks really pissed.
“What the hell is with you? This is what I’ve been talking about for years—you never had a problem with it before!”
“Because you never had anything to lose before!”
“Stop bossing me!” Whoa--I sound like I’m in kindergarten.
“I will when you stop acting like a dumb bitch!”
I’m speechless for a moment, as Jen stomps across the room to close my office door. Why am I being attacked here?
“I’m not going to lose anything, Jen,” I try to tone my voice down as she turns back to face me, eyes flashing with irritation. “Will’s coming with me. He wants to look for jobs in New Orleans.”
“And you’re going to let him.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“He won’t even discuss it with me! In his mind, it’s a done deal.” Not that I’ve been chomping at the bit to discuss it, either, but Jen doesn’t have to know that.
“So, you’re leaving to work at a school that you hate, and Will’s going to follow you to work at a school that he will probably hate, just so Princess Lucy can be her best.” She waves her arms in a dramatic flourish, and I’m this close to slapping the nasty smirk off her face.
“What, are you saying it’s okay for me to compromise my goals for him, but it’s not okay for him to do the same for me?”
“No, dumbass, I’m saying you’ve set your goals around some unrealistic notion of success, and that no goal is worth ruining your life. Not to mention the innocent lives of others.” She opens the mini-fridge for another yogurt—heated disagreements rarely come between Jen and food. I once saw her polish off an entire Cobb salad during a twenty-minute throw down with Dax.
“How exactly am I ruining my life, Oprah?”
“Do you want to work at LSU?” My silence seems to goad her forward. “Did you meet a single person in the department that you liked? Are you interested in living in Louisiana?”
More heavy silence. Damn her.
“You didn’t even care when you thought you’d blown your interview. Face it, Lucy, the only part of you that wants that shitty job is your slightly inflated ego.”
Double damn her.
I look down at my lap in defeat. As with any verbal lashing I get from Jen, I must comb through the rubble and figure out if she’s right. Unfortunately, in this case, I think she is.
“Who exactly are you trying so hard to impress?” She finally asks, scraping the last bite out of her second (I hope it’s only her second) yogurt cup.
Well, that is the question, isn’t it?
***
By the time I make it to the house, it’s getting close to sundown. I’d practi
ced my speech in my head over and over, but I’m still not quite sure what I’m going to say when he answers the door.
“Lucy, what are you doing here?” The look on his face is surprised, but pleased.
“Hey Dad. Just thought I’d stop by for a visit. Are you busy?” I scrape my toe against the sidewalk nervously, and he immediately backs up and ushers me in.
“Of course not! How are you, darling?” I’m not a ‘pop-in without calling’ kind of daughter, so I know he’s a bit taken aback.
“I’m good. Can we talk for a minute?”
“Oh…sure, sure.” We head for the kitchen table, which is the place we’ve gone for family talks since I was a little girl. He offers me something to drink, and I refuse. It’s all very awkward, so I just start rambling, to get things over with.
“Dad, I turned down that job at LSU. I never wanted it. I never even wanted to do much research, really. I prefer teaching, but I guess I was too wrapped up in what I ‘should’ be doing to pay much attention to what I actually enjoyed.” I’ve pulled the elastic out of my ponytail, and I’m wrapping it around my index finger. We both watch quietly as my fingertip turns blue.
“Is there a reason why you’re here telling me this? I feel like there’s something more you want to say.” He pauses for a moment, then mutters, “Please don’t cut off your finger over it, whatever it is.”
I unwind the elastic and release a big sigh. “Dad…since Mom died,…everything’s been so different, you know?” He nods, urging me on. “When I went back to school, after the funeral, I felt so guilty. You were here alone, grieving, and Evan was such a pain in the ass, and then you got the news about your high blood pressure, and I just…” I stop for a breath, choosing my words carefully. “I started arranging my life and my choices around you. I felt like I had to take care of you, since Mom wasn’t around to do it anymore. So I did things I thought would make you happy. But they didn’t always make me happy.”
“Like what things?” He asks gently.
“Oh, I don’t know, like dating a doctor who was an complete shit, and staying here in Houston instead of going to Columbia for grad school, and using $2,000 of my student loan money to bail Evan out of jail so you wouldn’t find out.” Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that last part.
Dad smiles for a moment, then takes my hand in his across the old, scratched oak table. “Honey, I’m not a total idiot. I knew you wanted to go to Columbia—I tried like hell to get you to go, but you refused.” I nod, remembering the fights we’d had. At the time, I didn’t think he was ready to be alone. Or maybe I was the one who wasn’t ready.
“And I knew Evan was in jail.” My eyebrows raise at this one, but I say nothing. “And I definitely knew Paul was a right piece of shit.”
“A huge, steaming pile,” I add, and he smiles.
“The point is, I’m not as clueless as you might think. You’ve been hovering and worrying for years, but I thought when you were ready, you’d move on. And I guess, if I’m being totally honest, I did like the attention. You’ve made the last seven years a hell of a lot less lonely for me.”
“But Dad…if I gone on to Columbia, do you think you might have ventured out and gotten a social life by now?”
He seems to consider this carefully. “Possibly. But I don’t regret that you stuck around. I needed you. And I think you needed me. God knows Evan needed the bail money,” he chuckles.
“I don’t regret it either. If I hadn’t stayed, I’d never have met Will. He’s the one I’m supposed to be with. Here, in Houston.” Dad squeezes my hand and nods approvingly. But it’s good to know that even if he didn’t approve, I’d do it anyway.
Chapter Eighteen
I ring the doorbell with my elbow, since my hands are full of take-out from Frosted Lucky Chans. The door opens with a vigorous tug, and before I know it, the bags are deposited on the floor, and Will is kissing me like a starving man, his hands wandering to several inappropriate places, making me squirm with shocked delight.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here, unannounced, with food?” I gasp, after I break away from his lips.
“I don’t give a shit why you’re here, I’m just glad you came. It feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Actually, it’s been two days, but as his lips continue to graze the side of my neck, I’m beginning to think that two days is too long.
“Hey, slow down there, big boy. We need to talk.”
“About what?” He asks. But he’s still rubbing small circles with his fingertips on my lower back, and it’s super distracting. I grab behind my back for his hand and drag him and the wilting Chinese food into the living room, and we both fall heavily on the couch.
“Listen, I’m not taking the job at LSU.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I clap my palm over it. “And it’s not because of you, Mr. Ego. It’s because of me. I don’t want it. I hate that school, and most of the people there are jerks, and I don’t want to be tied to a research agenda for the next seven years. I want to have a life. So I’m staying here, and applying for some teaching positions, at smaller schools. And don’t try to talk me out of it.”
Will’s eyes are big and solemn, and I remove my hand from his mouth tentatively. “When did you decide all this?” He asks softly.
“Last night. I had a long talk with my Dad--we had some things to work through. Our relationship, since my mom died…it’s been kind of screwed up. I’ve been jumping through hoops to please him, I guess because I wanted to fix him or something.”
“Because you’re a good daughter.” Will brushes my hair behind my ear.
“Well, that too, obviously,” I grin. “I still need your help packing up my condo, though. I have to move out by the end of next week.”
“Have you reserved a truck?” He asks, sliding straight into ‘I-am-Will-and-I-take-care-of-everything’ mode.
“No, I was thinking we could do it without a truck, actually.” I look down at my knees, because this isn’t going to be easy.
“We can’t make forty trips between your condo and your dad’s house, Luce—that’s a long drive.”
“I know…but the trip from there to here is pretty short, eh?” I give him a silly grin, so that if he wants to take it as a joke, I won’t be totally humiliated. He returns my grin and slides towards me, trapping me against the side of the couch with his arms.
“Are you saying you want to move in with me? Because that is an awesome idea, but my mom would have a stroke if I lived with someone I wasn’t at least engaged to. I told you she’s a smother.”
What the hell? I stare into his deep green eyes, and I have absolutely no idea if he’s serious or not. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Not yet. But I will. I mean, someday soon.” He nudges my nose tenderly with his, and I’m staring at him, almost cross-eyed. He’s beautiful to me, even up-close and blurry. And I know he will ask me to marry him, and I know I’ll say yes.
“So if we’re engaged to be engaged, does that mean I can move in?”
“Um, I think that would at least get you onto my couch.”
“What would get me into your bed?” I ask with a wicked smile.
Umm, a roofie? A strong drink?” I shake my head in disappointment. “How about a kiss?”
“Nah, I think I’ll just stick to the couch.” I push him away firmly, and he lunges forward to grab my waist, lifting me off the couch and dragging me, half-kicking and half-giggling like a maniac, down the hall to his bedroom. He throws me sideways against the mattress and begins giving me the most delicious kisses, slow and sweet and lingering, his tongue dragging slowly along my bottom lip.
“You taste like Mike and Ike’s,” he murmurs against my chin.
“Well, that’s odd, because I haven’t had any sweets today.”
He looks at me dubiously, then leans to graze my lips with his. “Then I guess you just always taste like candy. Sweet. Fun. Happy.” He punctuates each word with a kiss.
“I love you,”
I say. I don’t have any other words.
“I love you, too. Are we going to have Chinese before or after I ravish your bod?” He’s already moved his palm under my t-shirt, sliding it up towards my bra.
“I dunno, I’m kind of hungry. Can we eat in bed?” The idea of eating in bed with a man has always seemed incredibly decadent and sexy to me. I guess because food and, uhh, bedding men are my two passions.
“Sure,” he says, jumping off the bed and heading to get the take-out bags. He’s three steps out the door when he turns suddenly and pops his head back in.
“Hey, Luce.”
“Yeah?”
“This is gonna be great, you and me.” He gives me a heart-stopping smile.
“I know.”
Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) Page 13
