by Lisa Dale
“Don’t be upset,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“It’s just a memory. Right? No reason to be afraid of thinking about it.” He leaned closer. She was so sensitive to his touch—she always had been—that she thought she could feel the unique pressure of each one of his fingers on her skin. “I’ve thought about it over the years. Even when I told myself it meant nothing, I thought about it. Did you?”
She couldn’t answer. She caught a faint trace of mint on his breath.
“And I still think about it. About how your hair wrapped around my hand. About the way the light from the sunrise fell across your hip bones. Lana, I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Every time I see you. And I know you do too.”
She held still, frozen in place.
“Will you tell me I’m wrong?” he asked.
“I can’t,” she said.
She sensed his relief, his whole body going slack. But only a moment later, he was looking at her with new focus and intention. “Why wouldn’t you let me come to you like that again?”
“Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t good?”
He laughed. “Lana, you came against my hand.”
Her face went hot. “I was afraid I’d lose you. I’m still afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because we were such good friends. And we wanted different things from life back then. I wanted to travel the world and you wanted to stay here and settle down. But instead, look how it turned out. You’re always traveling and I never have. Life gets so complicated and mixed up…. I just thought that as long as we stayed friends, I could have my life and you could have yours—and we’d always have each other. And do you know what else?”
“What?”
“I was right.”
He blinked, and she knew he saw the logic of friendship, the safety of it. What she’d done, she’d done for both of them. He should thank her, in a way.
But instead, he only moved closer, lifted his hand from her body to her neck, and pushed his fingers into her hair until her head tipped slightly back. “Are you sure you were right?” he asked.
She turned her face away, embarrassed by what he knew: that he only needed to kiss her and her whole body would rock. She needed another tactic. She stepped away. “Eli. Please. If you’ve ever loved me, you’ll let this go. You’ve got to.”
She saw the hard confidence in his face waver. “Why?”
“Because if we sleep together, it could change things. Please… if you respect our friendship, if you respect what we’ve had together for these last ten years, then you won’t try to change it.”
“I’m not changing anything. How I’ve felt about you has never changed. And never will. I’m just not hiding it anymore.”
“But you have to!” she said, panic rising.
“I don’t see why.”
She grabbed a handful of his jacket, frustrated that she could not get through. “Listen to me. We’re friends. We work as friends. Please don’t change the rules on me. Not now. Not when I’ve never needed you more.”
“But don’t you see how good it will be? Can you tell me you haven’t imagined it?”
“I’m not talking about sex.”
“Neither am I.”
She took a deep breath. Why could he not see the safety, the logic, of backing away from the moment and not looking back? “I can’t lie to you anymore. I want you. Deep down, I’ve wanted you for a long time. But I can’t lose you. You and Karin are all I have. Do you understand? I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
“I feel the same way.”
“Right. And if we… if we do this, we risk losing everything.”
“Or gaining everything,” he said.
She let him go. “But what about our lifestyles? Our dreams? We’re risking them too here. Don’t you see?”
His voice was steady and calm. “We’ll work it out. We always work things out.”
Tears came to her eyes now. The logic of why she’d suffered for so long, why she’d spent so many years denying how she felt, why she’d settled for inferior men to come to her bed—all of the reasons were getting muddled up and slippery. Years of logic and rationale were vanishing, and what reasons she did throw at him he threw right back. Walls were crumbling, boundaries breaking down. She felt as if he was leaving her already, that he was already slipping out of her hands.
She wiped at the tears on her face, determined to try one more time. “I don’t want to look back someday and wonder if sleeping with you was worth losing you.”
“Oh, Lana.” He touched her face, his caress gentle. “Is not sleeping with me worth losing me?”
Her breath caught. “What are you saying?”
He sighed. “I can’t do this anymore.” He stood so close the white of his breath met her face. “I can’t stand one more minute of my life thinking that any day now some other man will scoop you up and have the life with you that I want. I want to wake up with you in the morning. I want to find your favorite place to be kissed. Whether we sleep together or not, we can never go back to being just friends.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted the same things he wanted. But desire wasn’t the problem. The problem was everything else between them that desire put at stake. “I’m asking you to forget this. I’m begging you. Don’t do this to me right now.”
“And I’m telling you I can’t forget. I need to know what we are,” he said, the words caught between clenched teeth.
“But why do we have to name it?”
“Because. I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you. And I’m done living a lie.”
He kissed her.
She tried to reason with herself, tried to say, But this is Eli. She should not, in theory, go boneless at the touch of her best friend. But his mouth was a warm bloom against the cold night, gentle but persistent, and each way her mind turned to withdraw from the heat and press of his lips, it was as if he was there waiting to block her retreat, to palm the fire within and make a space for it to glow hotter. This is Eli, she told herself. This is Eli. And yet, the words that were meant to protect her from her own desire morphed and turned against her. For years, she’d been filling her life with substitutes, one after another, to fill the ache in her heart for the man she could not allow herself to have. Her body knew: This was Eli—the real thing. This was him, kissing her, at last, kissing, and as the admonitions of her mind grew smaller she wrapped her arms around his neck and—oh, glorious—kissed him back. Her Eli, at last.
She heard the low sound in his throat—so male and satisfied—and his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body against his. Her palms burned to touch him skin to skin. She was a teenager again, so hot she was melting, all liquid and instinct and need. Her lips followed his when he pulled back, and she thought, I’ll have him right here. Again. If she was going to lose him, she would at least lose him with one last set of blazing memories to warm her when he was gone. She pulled on his jacket despite the freezing cold.
But he broke the connection. His breath went up in plumes. “No. Not here. And not like this.”
She forced her breathing to even out, her heart to slow. “You’re right.” She gathered her thoughts, seeing just how close to going over the edge she’d been. “You’re right. Sex won’t give us any answers.”
The corner of his lip tipped up. “Maybe not. But the questions will be fun.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t want you to think we’re making love on a whim again. When it happens I want you to be there for it. Before, during, and after. Years after. It has to be a decision you make, something you won’t be able to deny later on. God help me, Lana. I couldn’t go through that again.”
She stepped away from him, got her bearings. As she looked down—to make some distance between them if only for a moment—the curve of her belly was there, round as the curve of the overhead sky. It came as a surprise to remember reality. She put a hand on the crest of
the half-sphere, felt the warmth coming from her own skin.
She looked up at him, the question on her lips far too complicated to speak.
“I know,” he said.
And then both his hands were on her body, the swell of the baby within her. And her heart couldn’t take it. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“I love you,” he said. “Everything that you are and everything that is you. Do you understand?”
She placed her hands on top of his, marveling. And then she knew the truth: She loved him—she was in love with him—and had been for quite some time.
“Let me take you home,” he said gently.
“All right,” she said.
Lana was quiet in the car on the way home, her face turned toward the window. Eli wished he knew what she was thinking. Row houses breezed by with their cheerfully lit porches decorated with pumpkins and bales of hay, and Eli silently willed her to reach over and take his hand, to assure him he’d done the right thing. But she didn’t.
He pulled up to the curb at her apartment and cut the engine. He watched her take off her seat belt, moving it around the bump of her belly; he clicked his off as well.
“Eli…,” she said, his name spoken so softly it was mere air passing over her lips. When he looked at her, the shine of her eyes lit by streetlamps, the gleam of her inner, lower lip, he should have felt some tenderness toward her—the urge to protect her at all costs, even if it meant protecting her from him. But that’s not what he felt. Desire, dark and ravenous, thickened in his blood.
“Can I kiss you again?” He touched her cheekbone, so soft, and her fingers curled around his.
She was silent.
“If you want me to, you’ll have to say it. Tell me.”
He saw hesitation flash across her face, but then she leaned forward and kissed him. His heart was lifted high. How long had he waited for this, for her? Everything that he’d been looking for was here. Heat, passion, desire. He didn’t want to rush her—he needed to hold back. And yet there was nothing more in the world he wanted at that moment than to drag her against him and push his hands inside her clothes.
She pulled away. Her eyes were glittery as the ocean under a full moon. “Are you going to… to come inside?”
He had to close his eyes a moment to take in the full impact of her words. For a moment he couldn’t answer. He leaned back in his seat, slid his hand away from her body. Before them the street was empty and quiet. A breeze had picked up, and the moving branches made tangled shadows dance wildly on the asphalt. He willed his heart to slow, his breathing to even out. “No,” he said. “No, I’m not.”
She seemed surprised, but he wouldn’t let it get to him. When they made love again, he didn’t want it to be because he wanted to, like it was his decision and not hers. His body would hate him tonight. But he had to turn her down.
Finally, she reached for the door handle. How many times had they gone home together, led one another through each other’s front doors, made themselves at home? The next time Eli went into her house, it would be different. It wouldn’t be to watch a movie or share a bowl of pasta. It would be to take her to bed.
Cool air came in through the car door when she opened it. He waited for her to say good night. But she didn’t. She only looked at him for a moment, her face unreadable. It wasn’t until she was safely inside that he pulled away.
October 12
On her day off Karin sat on the couch with her foot propped up on the coffee table so she could blow on her toenail polish. It had been years since she’d painted her nails. And even though no one would see them since it was October, it pleased her that the small nubs of her toenails were the glossy purple of eggplant.
“Karin?”
Gene called her from the next room. She couldn’t see him, but she knew just where he was, slumped over an array of bills on the kitchen table. How many times had she told him that if he had something to say to her, he should walk over to her and say it, instead of shouting through the wall? Or worse, waiting for her to be the one to get up? She shook her head, laughing to herself. Her husband had never been trainable.
She’d started to compose her answer—she was going to tell him that her toenails were too wet for walking—when suddenly he stood in the doorway, a piece of paper dangling from his hand.
“Care to explain this?” His voice barely hid his fury. He didn’t hand her the paper, but winged it in her general direction, so it sliced the air before veering to land on the couch.
She reached far to get it. It was her credit card statement, and Gene had marked the third line down with a yellow highlighter. Calvert’s motel.
“This was what I was talking about when I told you—”
“Stop.” He held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” He paced the room, and when he got to the other side, he kicked an end table so hard that it fell, knocking over their lamp.
She stood, no longer caring about her wet nails. “Gene—what on earth?”
“What an idiot I am. They told me somebody saw you with him at some hot-dog place. But you know what I thought? It must have been someone else. Couldn’t have been my wife. Not mine.”
“Gene—”
“And you don’t even have the brains to pay in cash?”
“No! Gene, you don’t understand. I—”
“Or are you going to tell me you were doing it for us? That you were just trying to get pregnant by some kind of twisted plan B?”
Karin cried out. That was the last straw. She picked up a pillow from the couch and hurled it at him with one hand. He caught it hard against his chest. For a second, it shut him up.
“How dare you insinuate that I’m cheating on you. Gene—I would never cheat on you. I swore it when we got married and it’s still true now.”
His eyes were wide and his breath was ragged. He spiked the pillow on the floor. “How stupid do you think I am? Karin—a bunch of the guys told me you’ve been hanging around with Andy Gervais. That you went on a date! And here I am holding the bill for a motel room that you paid for with our credit card! How exactly did you plan to explain that?”
Karin closed her eyes and fought to stay calm. Never in her life had she seen her husband so furious. But the fact that he was mad was the least of her worries. The big problem—the real problem—was that the man who was supposed to trust her perfectly and to the end of time, the man she’d sworn herself to, was telling her that he had no faith in her. It was a blow to her ego and her heart.
She put down the credit card bill and took a few slow steps toward him. When she looked up, she held his gaze with everything she had in her. “When I swore to be loyal and faithful to you, I meant it. If you really and truly think that I could—that I would ever—give myself to a man other than my husband, then this whole marriage has been nothing but a sham.”
For a moment he held firm, the fury still thrashing in his eyes. But then she saw the slow, terrible crumbling of his anger, his strong frame wilting, and sheer sadness and regret in his eyes. “Karin…”
She didn’t say anything. Her heart went out to him. This wasn’t about cheating. The accusation was just a symptom of bigger things on his mind. She took him in her arms, felt the weight of his body as he leaned his shoulders against her, curling around her in a hug. His breath came more quickly once again, rage giving way to silent trembling.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I was losing you,” he said.
“Shh,” she said. “I know.”
“You must hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You must think I’m an idiot.”
“You’re my idiot,” she said.
He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes. “Everyone told me you were seeing him. And you’ve been acting so strange. I had no other explanation.”
Karin stepped away, ran a hand through her hair. “Actually, I was seeing him. But it’s not what you think. He was helping me. And I didn’t know how I could tell
you without making you mad.”
He sat down on the couch and she settled beside him. “What’s going on?”
Karin pulled a pillow onto her lap and told him the story—about wanting to get Calvert out of town, about asking Andy for help. And she explained that the money she’d previously admitted to loaning to Calvert was in the form of a motel room. When she was done Gene shook his head.
“I don’t understand this. You tell me everything.”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing for me and for Lana; I wanted him gone. And I didn’t tell you about talking to Andy because I worried that you’d think I was overreacting and you’d tell me not to do it. In hindsight, I realize you would have been right.”
He sighed, and when he spoke a new tenderness had crept into his voice. He took her hand. “Let’s go away together. I don’t care where. Let’s just go.”
“Now?” she asked, laughing.
“Yes. Right now.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I… I have to be here for Lana.”
“What does she have to do with this?”
“I can’t just leave my sister when she’s pregnant.”
“It’s Lana’s pregnancy. Not yours. Lana can handle it on her own. She doesn’t need you.”
Karin’s skin prickled. “But… she’s my sister. And she does need me. You just don’t understand.”
“I understand that you’re looking out for her. But you’ve got to give her some room. And besides, what’s more important? Lana’s pregnancy or our marriage? Because that’s what’s on the line.”
Karin squeezed his fingers. “I swore I’d love you forever on the day we married. And you know I’ll never go back on my word.”
“Then come away with me. Please, Karin. I’m worried about us.”
For a few moments, she thought about it. But how could she leave now? She wanted to be there for her sister; Lana had never needed her support more. “I love you. I want us to work this out.”
“So do I. That’s why I’m asking you to go away with me.”
Karin nodded. “I’m not saying no.”
