by Ali Parker
We’d never had the talk, but I knew it was past time. I’d save that for another day, though. Throwing too much at Raven at once would make her turn her back on me again.
“You don’t go on dates.” She scowled.
“Actually, I’m going on one tomorrow.”
Shock flashed across her face, followed by a look of hurt. “Oh.”
My mental gears spun so fast they smoked as I looked for the right thing to say. I hadn’t expected to have this conversation so soon.
“With who?” Raven asked.
“Just a woman I met through someone else.”
Christ that was a bad lie.
Finally facing the opportunity to tell Raven I was going out with her school counselor, though, I realized it was a bad idea. If things went poorly with Lanie, it could screw everything up for Raven. She might become averse to talking to Lanie at school. No matter what else happened, I couldn’t afford setting Raven’s progress back.
Raven licked her lips and stared at the car’s console. “How come you waited so long?”
Her eyes lifted to mine, and the emotion there took my breath away. Hurt. Hope. Doubt.
Staring into her eyes, I realized how much we hadn’t talked about. Raven’s mother and my wife had died and, with my hardly noticing, years slipped by.
“I was afraid,” I gently said, my honest confession taking me by surprise.
I prepared myself to explain further, but Raven nodded. Somehow, she got it.
Maybe, in her way, she’d also been afraid to live. For a long time now, we’d both been in our little bubbles, harboring resentments toward the world and watching life go on without us.
How did I help her break out of that clear, suffocating sphere?
I did it myself, I realized. I set an example.
“I heard you’re looking at art schools.”
Raven’s eyes went wide.
“Which one are you interested in?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really know yet.”
“Maybe we can talk about it more over dinner.”
“You’re staying home for dinner?”
A lump had formed in my throat, but I managed to get out a “Yeah,” as I started the car.
Pulling into the driveway, the mood instantly felt better. Raven went right into the kitchen, where Karen was busy getting dinner ready. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been home for dinner on a Friday. Usually, I took the night as an opportunity to meet with investors over drinks downtown.
Leaving the two of them on the ground floor, I whisked myself upstairs and to the library. I’d already come to think of the room as mine and Lanie’s. Even though she’d never been in my house, that’s where I’d been when we talked on the phone the other day.
Slipping into the sacred spot, I imagined what it would be like to have her in there, reclined in the window seat, book in her lap.
What kind of things did she like to read? She seemed so smart. Her tastes were probably wildly eclectic.
Perching on the window seat’s cushion, I brought up the text message thread she’d sent me her address in. As the cursor blinked, I stared at it with an empty mind.
Just wanted to say hi, I finally wrote.
Cringing, I hit the send button before I could second guess myself.
Almost right away, the little dots indicating Lanie was writing back showed up. I held my breath, unable to look away from the phone.
Say hi whenever you want. :) I’ll never complain about it.
A low chuckle rumbled through my chest.
Hi, I wrote again.
It sounds just as good the second time, she responded.
Can’t wait to say it in person, I answered.
Once again, her response came within a matter of seconds. Same here.
With my cheeks already sore from smiling, I put my phone to charge in my bedroom across the hall and clomped downstairs. In the dining room, my smart, creative daughter waited for me. Tomorrow night, an equally amazing woman would be mine.
I’d worked for years to feel like I was on top of the world. At that moment, I realized that I hadn’t even gotten close, not until right then, that is.
Chapter 15
Lanie
“Okay, here are the options.” Putting the phone on speaker, I set it on the bed next to the different sets of lingerie I’d laid out. “Black lace with pink ribbons. Red. Just, like, plain red. White cotton. Pink lace, though the bra and panties are different shades of pink. Do you think that’s okay?”
“Uh, why is white cotton an option?” Erica asked. “I’m sorry. Are you going on a date tonight, or is your grandma?”
“I don’t want to look desperate.”
She laughed. “There’s nothing desperate about hoping the chemistry is there.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I tossed the white bra and panties in the general direction of my wardrobe. “I’ve never slept with a guy on a first date.”
“Yeah, I know. You used to be all like, Miss Three-Dates-No-Less. What happened?”
I cringed. “I think maybe that was my mother talking through me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with sleeping with a guy on a first date. You’re a grown-up. Do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I know.”
Looking back over the underwear spread out on my comforter, I briefly thought about where I wanted the night to go. Andrew was terrific, no doubt about it. Lately, he’d been all I could think about. Did I want him to be my boyfriend?
The answer to that had been clear for days, a resounding yes. But if things didn’t go that way, and all that transpired was a nice dinner and some hot sex—whether it be for one night or several—I would be happy with that as well. No more sitting on the sidelines for me.
“I’m going to go with the black lace.”
“Hell, yeah! For all men know, we wear lingerie like that all the time.”
“Right?” I laughed. “Okay, I have to go. He’ll be here soon.”
“Have fun!”
Hanging up, I got dressed quickly, slipping on the lace lingerie before stepping into my sleeveless, knee-length blue dress. Because the night was sure to have a chill to it, I wore knee-high brown boots and shrugged into the suede vest my mom had gotten me. After doing my makeup and putting on a drooping, silver necklace, I inspected the look in my floor-length mirror.
Casual, yet nice enough for dinner. I hoped. Second guessing my wardrobe choices was in my nature.
A knock on the door made my heart flip. Taking one last look in the mirror, I headed into the living room.
The man standing under the porch light took my breath away. Andrew had shaved and combed his dark hair to the side. The dark-blue suit hung on him just right, like everything he owned. A light whiff of cologne hit my nose, and I eagerly breathed it in.
“We match,” was the first thing I said.
His eyes swallowed me up, creating a warm feeling that defeated the crisp air blowing through the open door.
“We do,” he huskily answered. “It looks like we’re the perfect pair.”
God, take me now.
Forcing myself to act like a human being and not the panting dog in heat I’d abruptly turned into, I smiled and shouldered my purse.
“I’m right over here,” Andrew said, not that he had to. The apartment complex, though nice, was a relatively simple and middle-class one. I was pretty confident none of my neighbors had purchased a Maserati within the last week. Not unless they also planned on buying the building we lived in.
Before I could get my hand on the door, Andrew opened it for me. I slid in, the leather seat embracing me right away as my date took his spot behind the wheel, he sent another glance my way. Then another.
“I can’t get over how good you look.”
Heat crept up my neck and filled my face, but I didn’t care if he saw the blush. Let him know exactly what he did to me.
The car pulled smoothly onto th
e road, and I settled back in my seat. The first-date nerves were there, twisting around in my belly, but there was also a certainty I didn’t usually feel. We’d spent enough time together for me to know I wanted more of Andrew Marx.
“How was the rest of your week?” he asked, eyes darting between me and the road.
“Really good.” I laced my fingers in my lap, taking a moment to reflect on just how wonderful things had been lately. “I think I’m getting into the swing there. It’s all still so new, though.”
“The school?”
“Counseling. I used to teach kindergarten.”
Admitting my newbie status was something I wouldn’t do with everyone. I still spent every day at work self-conscious about it being my first year in the field. With Andrew, I wasn’t worried about being open. I wanted to be just that.
“And how about you?” I asked. “I haven’t heard you talk about work.”
His lips twisted into a sour smile. “That’s because what I do isn’t particularly interesting. I’m in investing.”
“Oh.” I paused for dramatic effect. “You’re right. That isn’t particularly interesting.”
“Hey now.” Andrew laughed, making butterflies flutter in my stomach. “I didn’t expect you to agree.”
“Sorry.” I giggled. “I’m sure your job is fascinating. If you’re into, um, numbers?”
He laughed again, and I couldn’t do anything other than smile.
“Right,” Andrew said. “Like I said, boring.”
“Don’t worry about me. I won’t ask you anything else about work. My dad is in a similar field. Once he starts talking about his job, I kind of zone out.” I gave it a second thought. “Is that bad?”
Andrew was smiling, though. “Not in my book. I would never waste a minute with you talking about work. Not when there are so many better things we could be doing.”
His voice was all low and steamy, making my temperature climb.
“The restaurant is just over here.” He pointed at a place down the block. We’d only been driving for a few minutes but had hit all green lights and made it to the spot in record time.
The area was the kind I wouldn’t usually patronize, with big designer-name shops and eateries that garnered national attention. When Andrew pulled up to a place with a valet outside of it, my impression of the neighborhood heightened.
Yes, definitely not my kind of haunt. Or, more precisely, not the type of haunt my public school paycheck could afford.
With his hand pressed lightly against my lower back, Andrew led me into the low-lit restaurant to a square table for two. As we settled in, my foot brushed his. I opened my mouth to apologize, but the smoldering expression on his face stopped me.
“Footsie, already?” he asked.
I laughed as the waiter handed me the menu. “Yeah, why waste time getting to know each other?”
Though I was the one who’d said it, the ballsy statement still made me blush. Burying my face in the menu, I got busy reading.
With our entrees ordered and a bottle of red wine on the table, Andrew raised his glass in cheers. “To tonight.”
“To tonight,” I whispered, clinking my glass against his.
I took a long sip, hoping the wine wouldn’t stain my teeth, and cleared my throat. “How is Raven?”
“She’s good.” Andrew’s dark eyes sparkled in the complimentary lighting. “Thank you.”
I nodded, and an unspoken agreement seemed to surface between us. There would be no more talk about work or his daughter that night. As much as those things mattered, tonight was about us.
“What do you like?” Andrew steepled his fingers. “That’s a general question, I know. Feel free not to answer it.”
“No.” I giggled. “It’s all right. You know what? I have a lot in common with Raven. I like art.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” I smiled.
“I have to admit it, but I don’t know that much about it.”
“You don’t have to know anything about it.” I shrugged. “You just have to appreciate it. It’s like music.”
“Yeah,” he slowly said, lips staying parted. “It is.”
Again, the feel of his eyes on me made me tingle all over. I itched to hide my face behind my wine glass but resisted the urge. No more hiding. Not from Andrew.
The conversation moved on, briefly touching base on our childhoods and where we’d gone to school. It turned out we were both introverted as kids and had spent a lot of time reading and playing in our own fantasy worlds.
“I hated school,” I admitted, halfway through my second glass of wine.
“No. I don’t believe you. A school counselor hating school?”
“Yep. Hated going there and being told what to do.”
“Sounds like you have a problem with authority.”
I mischievously bit my lip. “Maybe.”
The meal wrapped up, with dessert coming and going. As the restaurant cleared and the candles on the tables burned down low, I sighed in pleasure.
“I don’t want this night to end.” Realizing I’d spoken without thinking, I held my breath as I waited for Andrew’s reaction.
Wearing the smile he’d been wearing most of the evening, he stood. “Then let’s not let it. There’s an art gallery down the street. I noticed it on the way over here. Join me there?”
Taking our time, we walked side-by-side into the sweet night air. The city danced with life, as seen in groups of young people laughing and cars honking and squealing. Each breath I took felt like the beginning of something new, each moment a grand opportunity to start fresh.
“Here we are.” Andrew opened the gallery’s door for me, and we slipped inside. The space was warm and inviting, with only a few people milling about.
“Ooh, look at this.” I moved to the wire sculpture that had immediately caught my eye.
Andrew cocked his head to inspect it. “Is it a dog?”
“I think it’s a griffin.” I laughed.
“Close.”
“It looks like the plastic fork animals my friend Erica and I made.”
Andrew gave me a strange look, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Interesting way to spend your time, but okay. I’m down.”
“This was in fourth grade,” I quickly explained. “For a school assignment.”
“Ah. That makes a lot more sense.”
We started walking again, slowly going past a collection of portraits. “I guess I could have explained that better.”
“You two have been friends since fourth grade?”
“First.”
“Wow.” His eyebrows shot up, and he thoughtfully stared at a spot on the floor. “That’s pretty extraordinary.”
“I know. She’s special. I wouldn’t replace her with anything.”
“Where is she now?” We moved along the wall, and this time, Andrew walked closer to me, so near our shoulders almost touched.
“She’s here in Seattle. I see her a couple of times a week, at least. It’s gotten pretty hard to make plans with friends as we’ve gotten older. A lot of the people we used to hang out with have started families and dropped off the face of the earth. Or they’re busy with other things. Anyway, Erica and I made a pact a few years ago always to meet up twice a week. Sunday and Thursday evenings. It’s probably half of what’s kept us friends.”
“That’s wonderful,” Andrew breathed.
“Do you have a best friend?”
He gave the question another silent moment before answering. “I have a couple who I would consider that. We don’t meet up twice a week, though. Sometimes we go months without seeing each other, but then, when we do, it’s as if no time has gone by at all. We just fall back into the regular rhythm.”
I nodded. “I like that. It sounds special in its own way.”
“It is.” His pupils grew larger as he gazed at me, and for a moment, I forgot where we were. We could have been floating through space, for all I knew. When Andrew looked a
t me, he made everything else fall away.
Dropping my face and smiling to myself, I walked on. We were halfway through the gallery, passing an older couple and a few college-aged kids.
Unexpectedly, my hand brushed against Andrew’s. I glanced down at it and then back at him, surprised to find his eyes already on my face.
Just do it, I told myself. You’ve wanted to all night.
So I did. I bit the bullet and took his hand in mine, marking the event as the first time in history Lanie Jacobs had initiated a move on a guy.
Andrew’s warm, firm fingers tightened around mine, sending a ripple of electric energy up my arm and down my body.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he murmured.
His charged words made me turn into putty. Locking my knees so I wouldn’t fall over, I gulped and took another risk. “What else have you wanted to do?”
He blinked in shock but then moved so swiftly he was a blur. His hand pressed into the back of my neck, and his lips covered mine. I gasped in surprise, but his kiss ate up the noise. Strong but gentle lips, ones so like his hand, moved against my mouth. I relaxed into it, my lips rising and falling against his, the kiss as natural as waves against a beach.
Andrew’s tongue flicked against mine, and pleasure filled me up, hit after hit of it assaulting my senses. I could barely breathe, couldn’t think.
Who in the world was this guy, and what had he done to me?
Breaking off the kiss, Andrew gazed down at me. “That.”
I hazily blinked, our dinner’s wine having nothing to do with the drunk feeling pulling me down. “Hm?”
“You asked me what else I wanted to do, and there’s your answer. I wanted to do that.”
“Oh.”
I wanted him to kiss me again, but there were other people in the gallery. A few more seconds of the heart-pounding, breath-stealing kisses Andrew had just given me, and we’d be bordering on the lewd.
“Come on.” His fingers trailed down my arm and found mine once more. “There’s more to see. Let’s take our time, though.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed, smiling at him like he’d hung the moon, because, at that moment, he had.
Each step we took became slower than the last. Though my eyes were on the art, I couldn’t say what I looked at. With Andrew’s hand around mine, my vision swam, and my heart fluttered, his touch being the only thing I was aware of.
