Under the harsh fluorescent light, my sunburn took on a violet tinge, but that might also have been because everything in the room was purple, from the stalls to the tiled walls to the sinks. I wasn’t sure what they’d charge Iggie with, but I had a feeling he’d end up doing some jail time along with Alex, and I doubted he’d be happy exchanging his purple wardrobe for whatever color inmates were wearing these days.
The door swung open, and Caro walked in.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “How are you holding up?” I noticed that neither the light nor the purple surroundings seemed to have any effect on her flawless skin tone, and even after her awe-inspiring display of martial-arts proficiency, her hair was smooth and her suit completely unwrinkled.
“I’m fine,” I said. “But I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For coming to my rescue like that. It was really impressive.” And surprising, but I didn’t say that aloud.
“Oh, it was nothing,” she said, running her hands under the tap. “Anybody would have done the same thing.”
“Not many people could have done it,” I insisted. “I couldn’t have.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” She smiled at me again and turned off the water, and I handed her a paper towel from the dispenser.
I hesitated, unsure how to ask what I needed to ask, and also unsure whether it was wise to do so without anyone else around. But the building was now swarming with policemen, so I was probably safe enough for the time being, and it was important to get the answer to my question, not only because I was genuinely curious but because it would play a critical role in determining my romantic future. I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for the direct approach. “You know, I’d thought maybe you were in on everything.”
Caro had been touching up her already perfect lipstick, but now she turned from the mirror. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Yesterday you told me Alex gave you a ride home the other night.”
“I guess I’m going to have to find a new ride for the next cycling-club outing. Who could have known Wednesday would be the last time we ever carpooled?
“Wednesday?”
“We meet every Wednesday during the summer. It’s great to fit in a ride after work when it stays light out long enough.”
“Oh,” I said, as the first in what would likely be multiple waves of embarrassment washed over me.
“Did you think-?”
“You said ‘the other night,’ and I guess I just assumed-”
She started to laugh. “You assumed I meant from the party.”
I fumbled for words, but she wouldn’t let me even begin to apologize.
“Trust me. I’m flattered. Nobody ever suspects me of anything-it makes me worry I’m dull.”
“You’re not dull,” I assured her. “Nobody who did what you did to Alex Cutler could ever be dull.”
Part of me was glad to know she hadn’t been Alex’s accomplice, but a more selfish part of me almost wished she had, because now I absolutely had to say what I said next. There wasn’t going to be a better time, even if it took every drop of willpower I possessed. I took a deep breath, said a mental goodbye to happiness and spoke.
“Caro. You should take Peter back.”
“What?”
“You should take Peter back,” I repeated.
“I thought that’s what you said. Are you serious?”
“It’s obvious that you two belong together. I don’t know why you broke up with him in the first place, but that must have been a mistake.”
Her expression combined shock and amusement. “First of all, I didn’t break up with him. Not really. And second-we were awful together. Just plain awful.”
“He said you broke up with him.”
“I guess I was the one who finally said the words, but things would have dragged on for another fifteen years if I hadn’t ended it. Peter couldn’t stand being the bad guy. And now he keeps trying to set me up with other guys, because he still feels responsible.” She laughed again. “He’s going to really do a number on himself for having tried to foist Alex on me.”
“But you and Peter-” I began haltingly. “I don’t get it. You’re so alike. You’re a perfect match.”
“But don’t you see?” she said. “That’s exactly it-we’re exactly alike. It was one thing when we were eighteen and didn’t know any better, but after a while, well-” She paused, thinking about how to phrase it. “It was too smooth.”
“What’s wrong with smooth?”
“Everything’s wrong with smooth. It’s too easy, too comfortable. Everybody needs some friction. That’s what keeps things interesting.” She paused again. “But speaking of smooth, what’s the deal with Leo? Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
Abigail drove us all to the airport. Ben and Hilary were booked on a different airline, so she dropped them off at one terminal and Peter and me at another. Ben’s attempts to convince Hilary to give their relationship another shot hadn’t met with much success, but Luisa made no mention of her own return plans. She said goodbye to us at the curb and then got back into the car with Abigail. I wondered how long she’d be extending her San Francisco stay.
Peter offered to get our boarding passes at the electronic kiosk while I went to the newsstand to stock up on reading material. There was a refrigerator next to the rack of magazines and paperbacks, and I realized with a jolt that I couldn’t remember when I’d last thought of caffeine. It had been an eventful day, packed with distractions of all sorts, but this was still unprecedented. My dare was over, and my arm reached out of its own accord for a Diet Coke, but something in my brain stopped my hand before it made contact. I wasn’t sure how things would untangle themselves when we were back in New York, and Caro’s words had made me think, but I still thought there was a chance I’d lost a fiancé on this trip. At least I’d be able to say I lost a bad habit, too.
The line at security was long, but I spent the wait catching up on the e-mails and voice mails that had filled my BlackBerry, and Peter checked in with his office. I followed him down the concourse while typing out answers to the most easily addressable queries I’d received from work colleagues, and I continued to type as he shepherded me onto the plane and into my seat.
The doors to the jetway closed, and a flight attendant came down the aisle, asking all passengers turn off their electronic devices. I powered down the BlackBerry and stowed it in my bag.
“So,” said Peter. “That was quite a trip.”
“It certainly was,” I said as the plane pulled away from the gate.
“What do you think was the best part?” he asked.
I cast my mind back over the last three days, unsure which part I would describe as best. Mostly there’d been a lot of stress and racing around interspersed with intervals of physical and emotional torment.
The pilot’s voice came on over the intercom before I could craft a diplomatic response. “We’re next in line for takeoff, ladies and gentlemen, and we’re looking at clear skies. It should be smooth sailing all the way to Las Vegas. Flight attendants, please take your seats.”
“Wait.” I grabbed Peter’s arm. “Stop them. We’re on the wrong plane.”
“No, we’re not.”
“But this plane is going to Las Vegas.”
“So are we.”
“But we’re supposed to be going to New York.”
“There’s something I thought we could do in Vegas, first.”
“What do you want to do in Vegas?” Had Peter developed a gambling problem without my noticing? Or a strange need to see Celine Dion in concert?
He reached over and took my hand, and then he cleared his throat. “Well, I thought we could get married.”
“You mean, elope?”
“Uh-huh. It’ll be fun.”
I looked at him, stunned and temporarily speechless. “One thing I learned this weekend is to be very, very nervous about anything you thin
k will be fun.”
“This won’t involve any physical activity, I promise. At least, not the sort of physical activity you’re worried about. And you can wear your new dress.”
“Have you learned nothing this weekend?” I asked. “Peter. You don’t want to marry me. You just don’t realize it yet.”
“Of course I want to marry you. I’m in love with you. I thought we had that all settled. Have you changed your mind? Don’t you want to marry me?”
“No, I do. It’s just that I’m so wrong for you. You need someone normal.”
He stared at me in amazement. “Why do you think I love you?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” I admitted.
“Do you know how normal my life was before I met you? With my normal family and my normal friends and my normal job? It was like living in black-and-white. Until I met you. Suddenly I was living in color, and I don’t want that ever to end.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said.
He leaned in to kiss me, and the plane thundered down the runway, gathering speed before lifting off the ground.
Jennifer Sturman
***
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-d2e49e-f53d-0147-f7af-196c-63ff-be6523
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.10.2009
Created using: Fiction Book Designer software
Document authors :
Source URLs :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
The Hunt Page 22
