Driving in Neutral

by Sandra Antonelli

  Yet, it was more than pleasure. It was an understanding that something, something beyond sex, had been missing in their lives.

  Emerson realized he could quite possibly spend the rest of his life with her. Olivia discovered she loved him.

  Chapter 19

  In a happy little daze, Olivia went down to the kitchen to make coffee. Someone else had beaten her to the pot. The rich, earthy aroma of Arabica beans already perfumed the air. She paused in the archway near the back steps she’d just come down, and swallowed. Ella sat across the room, at the little table in the tiny breakfast nook.

  Olivia shuffled in and headed straight for the coffee, taking two cups from a tray. “Boy, am I embarrassed.”

  Ella sipped her coffee and didn’t say a word. The fat blue mug in front of her face hid her expression. She waited for Olivia to pour a cup and take a seat on the other side of the breakfast nook table before speaking. All business, her voice held no trace of vexed southern belle. “Is there some reason you of all people feel you have to upstage me on my wedding day?”

  Olivia opened her mouth and the coffee she was about to choke on fell back into the cup. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I’m upstaging you?”

  Ella’s cup banged against the tabletop as she set it down. “You’ve done a great job of hiding your little thing for Emerson. How long have you two been going at it anyhow? I don’t know why I didn’t see it. I wonder if anyone else here’s noticed you only pretend to think he’s a dick. No wonder you’ve been so…chirpy.”

  “I haven’t been pretending anything.”

  “Oh, please. You’re acting like Justine!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You always said you think she’s slutty.”

  “I never said that.”

  “No, but you sure think it.”

  Olivia ran both hands through the messy tangle of hair on her head. This was ridiculous. She had coddled Ella through this wedding, pandered to wishes to wear three inch stilettos so the bridesmaids would be a uniform height, soothed tantrums over Uncle Kev with the glass eye he liked to pop out, and played the bad guy with the caterer, cake designer, Hutton House staff, and other bridesmaids just so the bride wouldn’t look like a bitch, but this was too much. This was personal.

  Ella had finally gone mad with power.

  Olivia got to her feet, tightening the thin bathrobe she put on after losing the coin toss to stumble downstairs for coffee, leaving naked Emerson looking amused in the rumpled bedclothes. “Okay, Ella, I know this is your big day, I know you’re nervous and on edge and how important it is for things to go exactly perfect, but you’ve finally overstepped the line here. How does what I do in the privacy of my b—”

  Ella’s laugh exploded, bouncing off stainless steel and tiles. “Psych!”

  Olivia squeezed her temples. “W-w-what?”

  “Oh, come on, you didn’t really think I was mad, did you? No, sweetheart, I may be embarrassed I barged in to see you being felt up, but I’m absolutely thrilled for you. It makes today that much more special because it’s been too long since you smiled like you have been lately. If Emerson is the reason, then how come you’re down here in the kitchen with me instead of upstairs with him?”

  “I came down for coffee.”

  “Oh, coffee for two,” Ella sang.

  Olivia felt a smile spread across her face.

  “Oh my, my, my.”

  Olivia couldn’t stop smiling.

  “I told you he was worth a smutty thought or two.”

  “Actually you said ice cream and a day at the beach rolled into one.”

  “And was he?”

  “It’s like going flat-out around the track in a Bugatti Vayron, only better.”

  Ella leaned forward on her elbows. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure like is a strong enough word.”

  “Olivia’s got a boyfriend!” Ella’s giggle actually came out like tee-hee-hee. “Oh, wait until Craig finds out!”

  “You’re not going to say anything, are you?”

  “I won’t have to. Not with I got some this morning written all over your face in pink neon.” Ella picked up her coffee cup. “Sorry, honey, what you and Emerson just figured out was already obvious to everybody here. We were all just waiting for you to get a room.”

  Olivia never would have made a good waitress. She sloshed coffee over the edge of the mugs she carried upstairs, dribbling a stream of hot liquid down her hands and swore under her breath. Rounding the corner of the hallway, she saw Martin and Addie. They were dressed in sports gear and ready to go for an early morning run along the lakefront like they had yesterday. Focused on each other, they spoke quietly as they moved up the hall.

  Trying to cover the ground to her room without drawing attention to her presence, Olivia lost more coffee, scalding her forearms as it washed up her and into the sleeves of her thin robe. It made the slight fabric floppy. With a wince, she kept her focus on the door of her room, nestled the mug in her right hand between her elbow and chest, and stretched out for the doorknob. Her fingers made contact with polished brass and she began to turn the handle.

  “Morning ‘Livia,” Martin said behind her.

  Shit. Coffee splashed onto her breast. “Good morning.” She said, casting a look over one shoulder.

  Martin had stopped to tie his shoe. He and Addie were a few steps away. “Is that coffee I smell?” he said.

  “Yes.” Olivia flashed them a quick smile and groped for the doorknob again. “Ella just made it.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have coffee than a run, Addie-pie?” He rose and looked at his girlfriend, hope clear in his tired, bloodshot eyes. “Doesn’t the coffee smell great?”

  “Don’t blame me for your hangover, Martin,” Addie sniffed. “You said you’d go for a run with me this morning. It’s not my fault if you have a sore head. I was here all by myself last night.”

  “You didn’t have to stay in the room. You could have helped the girls. Couldn’t she, ‘Livia?”

  “I would have been intruding,” Lying Addie whined. “They’re all old friends and I hardly know them, I would have been a third wheel. I know you didn’t tell Ella I was coming. Justine made sure I knew that. You know, I never would have left you back here by yourself.”

  “Addie-pie, it was a bachelor party, you ca—”

  The door behind Olivia opened so swiftly she nearly dropped the coffee. Emerson tugged at the post-coital sheet wrapped around his hips. “What took you so long?” he said and then saw beyond her pained expression. His smile faded.

  “Well, good morning, Emerson!” Martin said, dragging out the good part of his salutation.

  “Mart. Addie.” Emerson nodded curtly, taking the coffee from Olivia’s elbow, pulling her inside, and shutting the door as Martin started to laugh.

  Emerson took the other coffee from her and set the mugs on the short table near the door. He drew her near, wrapping her into his arms. “I missed you,” he said into her hair. “Whose bright idea was it for you to go get coffee?”

  She sighed against his chest. “Okay, so Ella knows.”

  “Yup.”

  “And now that dickhead knows.”

  “Looks that way. Are you all right with that?”

  “I feel like someone broadsided me and spun me off the track. Coffee. Coffee will fix it. Coffee will fix anything. She took a step away from his body, holding his hand as she reached for the coffee. She handed him a mug, took a voracious gulp from hers, and hoped the dark brew would work some kind of magic.

  “Listen to me, Olivia. This is between you and me. People knowing…well…so what.”

  “So what?” She frowned, wrinkling her nose halfway inside the mug as she drank.

  “So what if they know, you know too.”

  “The only thing I know is I can’t carry two cups of coffee up a flight of stairs without spilling them.”

 
“Ah, that’s why your sleeves are wet.”

  “Next time, no coin toss. You go get the coffee, and I’ll open the door wearing something other than a sheet,” she grumbled.

  “So, the next time after this,” Emerson took the coffee from her, set it down next to his and pulled her backward toward the bed, “when I go and get the coffee and hot buttered croissants with jam, or toast if you prefer, would I come back to the room and still find you wearing this delightful, coffee-scented wet bathrobe? Or could I hope to find you in my pants?”

  She looked up at him and dissolved into laughter.

  He drew her onto the rumpled, unmade bed and began to kiss her with tantalizing pleasure, slipping off the damp robe with his warm, soft hands.

  Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered anymore except him. Someplace finally felt like home. Emerson was home and, like Tex and Mimi unabashedly making love down on the patio, Olivia didn’t care anymore who knew, or heard, or saw.

  Emerson held her close, utterly content and completely helpless to his feelings. Olivia lay wrapped around him, one leg curved over his hips, her head resting on the softest part of his chest, and she held onto his thumb. This was how it was supposed to be with a woman and man. Holding her in his arms was the simplest, yet most gratifying act that seemed to signify all was right with the world, regardless of wars and famine, and Emerson found it more satisfying than making love. His fingers slipped through the softness of her dark hair, and he sighed with actual contentment when she stirred.

  Olivia opened her eyes. She tipped her head to look up at Emerson. He had the tiniest hint of satisfaction on his decidedly sweet lips.

  Why had it been so hard to believe she felt something for Emerson, right from the start? She’d held out and tried to convince herself it had been chemistry at work, but that sounded like the stupid excuse Karl proffered as a defense for his affairs. Why did she think it mattered how fresh her divorce was anyway? The marriage was over long, long before the paperwork said so.

  And she had fallen in love with this man.

  That self-truth made her smile and burrow her cheek into his skin.

  “Hey, you do know it’s the guy who’s supposed to fall asleep after making love?” he said, kissing her forehead. “Don’t you?”

  “It’s also the guy who’s supposed to be into racing cars, so please forgive my continuing epicene nature.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  She moved her leg, rolled to her back and stretched. “It means I’m acting like a man instead of a woman.”

  Emerson shifted onto his hip and lifted the sheet, looking at her body beneath the soft white cotton. “Boy, that’s some impressive acting you’ve got there.” He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her laughing lips.

  “I feel like I’m drunk. You make me feel positively plastered.” Olivia turned to face him. “And I like it. I’d like to stay here all day with you and get toasted.” She reached out and tickled her fingers through the hair on his chest. There were strands of silver mixed in with the black. “I like this,” she said. “I like that you don’t shave or wax off your hair.”

  “You’d probably think different if I had the Chewbacca pelt Martin does.”

  “Martin’s a tool.”

  “Yeah, Martin’s an absolute dick. I wonder if he’d loan us some condoms?”

  “There were more than three condoms in that basket. I know I put more than three in there.”

  “We’re gonna need more. A whole bunch more.”

  “How many do we have left?” She lifted her head and looked over his shoulder to the bedside table and groaned when she saw the clock face beside the empty condom wrappers. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?”

  “I have half an hour to sober up for the bride’s breakfast.”

  “The wedding planner’s job is never done.”

  “Not till the fat lady catches the bouquet.”

  “Or eats cake.”

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you? That’s the second time this morning you mentioned food.”

  “Okay. Is this better? Is this what you want to hear? You’re all the sustenance I need, baby.”

  “Oh, that’s really cheesy.”

  “Mmm, cheese. Cheese is good, especially melted on toast. You needed coffee. I need breakfast. What’s a good after-lovemaking breakfast?” He sat up and kissed her. “That’s a pretty good start, but it needs orange juice.”

  Reluctantly, as his fingers slipped a caress down her back, she climbed out of bed and paused after she stood. “It’s going to be a long time before I see you again today. I’ve been looking forward to watching Ella get married, to having this all come together, but now I can’t wait for it to be over so I can get back to you.” She tipped her head to one side. “Is it too much? Have I scared the shit out of you?”

  Emerson sat with his back against the headboard and pursed his lips before he sighed. “You ever think about time travel?”

  “What?” How did he do it? What skill did he possess to get inside her head and pull out the strange random thoughts she’d had?

  “Time travel.” He made circles in the air with one finger. “You know Back to the Future kind of stuff.”

  Olivia smiled. “Sometimes.”

  “I’d like to get in a time machine and set it to jump ahead to oh, say eight-thirty tonight. You doing anything then? Think you can make it? Because I sure do like sharing time and space with you, Olivia.”

  The thrill she got from those words made her luminous enough to supply energy for the entire city of Chicago, and she knew her smile was probably blinding. “You are such a huge geek.”

  “Since we’ve shared so much this morning, you know, the bed, the coffee, the possibility of time travel, why don’t we share the shower too?”

  “I don’t know. Think you’ll be able to handle a reduction in the already limited shower space?”

  “There’s a big glass door just like at home.”

  “Well thank God the movie that left such an indelible mark on your mind wasn’t Psycho.”

  Emerson slipped out of bed and put his arms around her. “Well…to be completely honest, that movie scared me too.”

  “How long,” Olivia snickered, running her fingers through the hair on his chest, “did you refuse to bathe?”

  “A week.”

  “And how old were you? Nine? Ten?”

  “Nope. Twenty-two.”

  “No wonder you were such a late bloomer.”

  He buried his nose in her neck and flicked his tongue in the salty sweetness on her skin. “So what unreasonable thing are you freaked out by?”

  Olivia bit her bottom lip, her fingers convulsing in his chest hair as his lips tickled. “Are we going to start this again?”

  “Honey, we started this weeks ago and I’m making up for all that lost time.”

  “Silverfish,” she said. “Spiders and silverfish.”

  “Now that’s a romantic response to my advances.” He lifted his head and chuckled.

  Her fingers ran over his mouth, pinching his bottom lip the way he did sometimes. “Emerson, I’m trying to tell you, in a very delicate way that conveys an appreciation for your very wanted attention, and an understanding of your need to make up for your unfortunate late blooming, I have a wedding to run, and today that’s going to take precedence over what you and I both want.”

  “You take this promise to Ella very seriously, don’t you?”

  “I love her very much. She’s been there for me since we were ten, and she’s the one person outside my parents who’s loved me no matter what. I know she’s coming across as a loon crossed with a harpy. She’s under a lot of pressure, from work and the wedding. It’s a temporary thing. She’s allowed to go nuts about this and I don’t take any of it personally. She’s been alone for so long and Craig makes her happy. I want her to be happy. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make Ella happy. Nothing. How many people can you say that about? I want this day to be as special as it can
be. I want it to be everything she’s ever imagined.”

  “I’m sure it will be memorable for all of us.” He kissed her very softly. Even if it meant he would come second today, he was impressed by her devotion to her best friend.

  Chapter 20

  As best man, Emerson had the task of keeping Craig away from the house in an effort to prevent him from laying eyes on the bride until the moment she made her grand entrance. The best way to accomplish that was to take the groom and groomsmen out for a meal in town. While the bridesmaids had breakfast in the sunroom of Hutton House, he and Craig, the other groomsmen and Al sat in a chain restaurant known for their all-day breakfast menu.

  They were a subdued bunch. A few of them were hung over, Al more quiet than usual. Martin sat slumped in the seat beside Emerson. “So,” he pursed his lips as he announced, “guess what I saw at six this morning?”

  “The inside of a toilet?” Jason wore sunglasses and rubbed his temples.

  “Where’s that dang coffee?” Tex said with a twang.

  “Did I order hash brown or home fries?” Pete mumbled. “God, I hope I ordered home fries.”

  “Isn’t anybody interested in what I saw this morning?”

  Craig unrolled his knife and fork from a paper napkin, glancing at Martin. “Okay, you big baby, what did you see?”

  “Maxwell in a sheet and the Watch Commander in a slinky bathrobe.”

  Craig dropped his fork. Jason went on rubbing his head. Pete tried not to grin, while Tex delicately turned his head and waved to get the attention of a waitress.

  Emerson wanted to kick Martin under the table.

  “Yeah, that one. She’s all woman,” Al muttered with his eyes closed.

  Pete cleared his throat. “Listen Em, I think Craig wants to tell you something.”

  “I don’t have anything to tell him.” Craig shook his head and inspected the water stains on his knife.

  “Sure you do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It was your sister’s idea.”

  “So I get the blame?”

  “She’s your wife.”

  “Not yet. Right now you and I are not legally related and she’s your sister.”