Making Waves

by Laura Moore

  “That’s true. You realize the very excellent closets in our house have many hangers, right?”

  “Nag, nag, nag.”

  She elbowed him lightly. In response he draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

  “Hendrick called to say Marcus will be joining us.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Marcus was Hendrick’s partner, but, as an NYU art history professor, he spent most of his time in the city. Max was glad to hear Marcus was coming. It meant Hendrick wouldn’t be quite so focused on him. He’d never seen a psychiatrist, not even after the deaths of Rosie and his mother. What was the point of talking for an hour however many sessions a week about his loss? What purpose would it serve? Rosie would still be dead. So would his mother. And his father would still hate him.

  There was another reason Hendrick made him uncomfortable. Max couldn’t shake the feeling that Hendrick didn’t think him worthy of Dakota. That Max agreed with him didn’t make for great conversation. It struck Max suddenly that he hadn’t felt any sense of unworthiness when he was with Piper. She hadn’t made him squirm with a single Prove to me you’re good enough for my daughter or Will you promise to treat her right? How telling.

  “I may have to make an extra frittata and salad,” Dakota announced, her thoughts clearly traveling down a different path.

  “I vote for that pasta salad.”

  “The one with zucchini and mozzarella?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think I have the ingredients. Did you get all the stuff, by the way?”

  “Everything on the list. And a cake that in my opinion does not need to be shared with guests. And speaking of stuff…” He picked up the gift bag and dangled it in front of her. “I bought you this.”

  “For me?”

  She sounded ridiculously pleased. He had a hunch that Piper probably wasn’t the type to give presents, unless they had strings attached to them. “Yeah,” he replied gruffly.

  He watched her lift the box out and open it.

  “Oh! It’s lovely. Thank you.” She turned and kissed the corner of his mouth. Holding the necklace up, she admired it for a moment. “I love tigereye stones. Did you know Roman soldiers wore them for protection?”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “The things you know.”

  “All thanks to a seventh-grade science report on quartz and crystals. I made a big chart with illustrations and interesting facts. I got an A.” She smiled.

  “Of course you did.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  Unclasping the necklace, she held it against the base of her throat. “Will you fasten it for me?”

  He shifted. Taking the necklace from her, he brushed her hair aside and linked the ends. Then, leaning forward, he kissed the knobby bone at the top of her spine and smiled at the catch of her breath.

  He’d have much preferred to continue kissing her and then easing her back in his arms so he could slide his hands inside her top and play with her breasts. They didn’t need Netflix to chill. But the sooner he got the “By the way, I ran into your mother” story out in the open, the sooner he could feel like he wasn’t keeping things from her. Totally hypocritical of him, when there was still so much he was concealing, but there it was.

  He settled against the cushion as she turned so he could inspect his gift. “It looks really good,” he said and then cleared his throat. “Guess who I met when I was grabbing a coffee at Sagtown.”

  She looked at him, her fingers running over the stones’ smooth facets. “Who?”

  “Your mother.”

  —

  It had to happen, Dakota thought. The Hamptons weren’t that big and people tended to keep fixed routines: morning workouts, followed by errands, a trip to the post office, then on to the grocery store. She even knew where to look for people on the beach because they either walked at the same hour—and in the same direction—or lay their towels and loungers in the same area, year after year. Stopping for coffee in the midafternoon at a hip coffee bar was another ritual, and Piper loved her nonfat lattes.

  Lowering her hand to her lap, she shifted, the better to study Max’s expression. “And?”

  “She’s certainly something.” He gave nothing away.

  She made an educated guess. “She hit on you.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  She raised her brows.

  “Okay, yeah. She was more forward than I’d expect in a mother-in-law.”

  Dakota wished she could sink between the sofa cushions. “It’s like she has this internal switch that flips on. She has to be the center of attention,” she explained. “With a man it becomes sexual. She needs to be irresistible.”

  “I didn’t take it personally.”

  “There you’re wrong. She’d like nothing better than to think she has what it takes to seduce you. That we’re married and that she’d be showing me up, well, it would be the shiny brass ring.”

  “Only one problem with that plan. I wouldn’t have played along. She’s not my type.”

  She tried to smile normally, she really did. “Max,” she said gently, “I did Google you.” And she hated every damn photo that showed him with some leggy blond starlet hanging on his arm.

  He cocked a brow, silently conceding if not apologizing for his past. “Okay, how about this, then. She’s no longer my type. Moreover, even if she were, I generally draw the line at accepting overtures from my pregnant wife’s mother. Satisfied?”

  Hardly, Dakota thought. She wanted a pledge of undying love to tumble spontaneously from his lips. So far all she’d gotten were the carefully uttered words repeated at Martin Geller’s instruction.

  She knew Max cared. She recognized how well—amazingly well—things were going between them. But even when they made love, it was as if there was something he was holding back. Not anything physical, but an emotional part of himself.

  She was being an idiot for even contemplating pushing him for more when the marriage was still new. She needed to give him time to love her as much as she loved him.

  And she’d fallen pretty desperately in love. The problem with love, she discovered, was that it didn’t make you selfless. Okay, it did—she’d do almost anything for Max. But love had another side, a greedy one, and she wanted the words, she wanted the knowledge that he’d pick her over every other woman, baby or no.

  Fortunately, she had fairly good impulse control, even when her mother was at her most provoking. She wasn’t going to be stupid and let Piper’s antics, her trial run at being the next Mrs. Robinson, come between her and Max. Not when they had their friends coming over tomorrow, not when he was set to leave for California early Monday morning. She wanted him to miss her, not to be relieved to be flying away from a jealous shrew.

  With a sniff, she dredged up a smile and nodded. “Sorry. Piper pushes all my buttons.”

  “I can see how she would enjoy that.”

  She felt better when he reached up to toy with the curling ends of her hair. She didn’t think he was even aware how often he did that. “So what did you two talk about?” she asked, as if the thought of her mother and Max in a tête-à-tête didn’t leave a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Let’s see. First she regaled me with the story of how you got your name.”

  “She didn’t. Oh God!”

  “The story sounded practiced.”

  “It’s one of her favorites. She thinks it shows she belongs to an elite club of sexually daring party girls.”

  He made a noise of assent. “I got that she was real pleased about it. She thinks we should name the baby Haven. As in Wind.”

  Dakota closed her eyes. “I am so, so sorry.”

  “And in the interest of full disclosure, your mother mentioned that your sperm daddy and I have a certain something in common.”

  “If I tell you I’m going to be sick, you realize it has nothing to do with the baby, right?”

  He chuckled and brought his hands to
her shoulders, rubbing the tension away. “Will it make you feel better to know that I pissed her off?”

  “Infinitely.” Though that wasn’t exactly true, Dakota conceded silently. Even when she was infuriated with Piper, a part of her always shied away from retaliating, because Piper was fragile and needed her. And Dakota was the ever dutiful, responsible daughter who ignored her mother’s bad behavior. And yes, she was quite aware how warped that was. “What did you say?” she asked.

  “Nothing terribly shocking. I only suggested that I thought she should support you and stand up to your aunt Mimi.”

  Dakota gave an appalled laugh. “That must have gone over well.”

  “Yes, she took definite exception,” Max said.

  “Doing things for others, that’s not how Piper rolls. She resents the very idea. And she’s not into standing up to Mimi at all, at least not directly. I know I have a messed-up relationship with Piper, but hers and Mimi’s is equally dysfunctional. It goes leagues beyond mere sibling rivalry.”

  “Well, she told me where I could stuff my suggestion. Said I was just like Diego.”

  “Who?” Frowning, she turned her head.

  “She told me I was like some dude named Diego. Not a compliment. I assumed he was some overbearing bully she dated who refused to dance to her tune—or made the mistake of telling her what to do.”

  “That’s weird. I’ve never heard her mention anyone named Diego—and believe me, I would have. Piper overshares. She’ll call to tell me how long a guy ogled her at a bank. Are you sure that was the name?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Diego.”

  She shivered suddenly.

  “Hey, you’re getting chilled,” Max said with a frown. “Let’s go inside. I’ll warm you up and make you forget about your damned mother for a while.”

  Max was as good as his word. Back inside, he’d made love to her, sweeping her up in the power of his body moving in her, against her, and with her. Her morning sickness had at last begun to abate, and she found herself not only regaining her former energy but also in sudden possession of a heightened sensuality. Her body had always responded to Max. Now his touch made her quicken as desire flowed through her like honey. Golden, rich, and so sweet.

  He’d distracted her some more while she prepared a dinner of chicken with roasted grapes and shallots and a salad by suggesting various companies and start-ups she might want to strap her angel wings on and fund. One was a green start-up that was researching ways to clean the oceans of the plastic befouling them. Another business he mentioned, though somewhat less poetic and grand in scale, piqued her interest, too. The owner had devised a way to recycle asphalt shingles with a 100 percent raw recovery. Over the cake Max had bought—the man had a seriously sweet tooth—they’d discussed how much waste would be reduced if a company like that could grow and reach new markets.

  When they went to bed that night, he lit a fire in their room. By its dancing light, they undressed each other slowly, taking the time to taste and stroke revealed flesh. Naked, he eased them down on the mattress and then lifted her so she straddled him.

  Holding his gaze she rode him, rising and then falling with a low moan as he filled her. As pleasure welled, she increased her tempo, resting her hands on either side of his sweat-slicked chest. When he fondled her breasts and tweaked their aching tips, she arched and tightened around him, her climax rolling ever closer. Sensing her need, he reached down and rubbed her straining nub. His touch a trigger, it set off streaks of electric pleasure shooting through her. Overcome, she collapsed with a soft cry, her fall broken as he caught her and held her close.

  Dazed and replete, she lay in his arms and watched the fire’s embers dull to gray. Then there was only the warmth of his muscular body against hers, the slow, even rhythm of his breathing, and the velvety blackness surrounding them. Her heavy lids slid shut.

  —

  The next day’s brunch and its preparations should have provided Dakota with an equal distraction from thoughts of Piper, but putting together Max’s requested choice of pasta salad and the other dishes she’d planned, laying the table, and setting up a room for the kids to play in were Dakota’s areas of expertise. Besides which, she had help from one of her new employees. Dakota was training Lucy to work at parties. Later she’d be keeping an eye on the children once they grew bored of sitting at the table.

  As Dakota grilled zucchini slices, Max’s account of meeting Piper replayed in her head. Not the stuff about the origin of her name. Cringeworthy though that was, Dakota was practically inured to it. No, what she was stuck on was the identity of this mysterious Diego. Conceivably he was a new man in Piper’s life—though from the sound of it, already come and gone. It was possible she’d missed hearing about him during the worst of her morning sickness. It was possible, but she didn’t believe it.

  Dakota was aware of the irony in her interest with this mystery man when normally her only aim was to block her mother’s every utterance and act from her mind.

  The brunch was as boisterous as one might imagine with nine adults and six children and congratulations being exchanged on so many fronts. But she found an opportunity to ask Hendrick, who’d arrived first with Marcus, whether he could recall Piper ever dating a man named Diego. They were in the kitchen fixing Bellinis—and a seltzer spritzer for her—while Max showed Marcus Gen’s painting. Marcus was hoping to write a monograph on her work.

  Hendrick paused in the midst of pulsing the frozen peaches with lemon and orange zest in the Vitamix—he was an instant convert to the super-blender. “No, I can’t say I do. Should I?”

  And when Dakota explained the context, he said, “Bravo to Max for saying that to her. I agree with you, whoever this Diego is, he must have left quite a mark on her. But I can’t recall any gossip involving Piper and any man by that name. And you’ve never mentioned him.” Accustomed to listening to his patients and keeping hundreds of people and story lines straight, Hendrick had a prodigious recall.

  Passing the simple syrup she’d made to Hendrick so that he could blend it into the fruit and then pour the mixture into the waiting glasses, Dakota said, “Oh well. Let’s not spoil the day with talk of Piper. Come and admire Gen’s painting. It looks especially amazing in the morning light.”

  Later, after all the guests except Lauren had taken their leave and Dakota had sent Max off to his study so he could get a leg up on some work in preparation for his trip to California, she and Lauren went into the living room. Lauren had gratefully accepted Gen and Alex’s invitation to take Katie and Ali for the rest of the day.

  “An afternoon free. What luxury.” Lauren let her head fall back against the sofa’s cushion.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Dakota asked, mimicking Lauren’s relaxed pose.

  “You know, I may saddle Rowan and go for a ride. Just a simple hack for pleasure. I rarely get to do that these days, and he’ll enjoy it. Then it will be catching up on paperwork and sending out confirmations for the summer pony camp applications. We’ve been swamped.”

  “That’s good, though, right?”

  “It helps pay the bills. And some of the kids are adorable. The trick is weeding out the horrors.” She turned her head. “And what about you? Do you and Max have any plans?”

  “Nothing concrete. After he’s done working, maybe we’ll take a walk on the beach, maybe a nap.”

  “Uh-huh.” Lauren’s tone was knowing. “I loved those kinds of days with Zach. I’m so happy to see you like this, Dakota. It’s good between you two, right?”

  “It is. I’ve fallen for him pretty hard, Lauren,” she said quietly. “I just hope he feels the same and it works out for us. I realize things were different for you and Zach. You two were so in love.”

  Lauren gave a little smile. “What we had was special. Zach was special—a wonderful, kind, and truly good man.”

  “He was,” Dakota agreed. “I know how much you miss him.”

  “Every day. But he’s still with me. I o
nly have to look at the girls. Ali was just a baby when he died, yet amazingly she has some of his mannerisms. And Katie looks so much like him. I honestly can’t imagine ever being with someone else because I don’t think I could ever find another love like the one I had with Zach. And that’s okay, because he’s there in my two beautiful girls.”

  Dakota took her hand. For several minutes they enjoyed the quiet.

  “You know I’m working on renovating Tom Hunter’s house,” she said.

  Lauren didn’t answer immediately. Then she said, “It’s going well?”

  “I think Astrid and I will be able to get it done by the end of May, which is the date he gave me.”

  “Is he selling it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s coming back.”

  “After all these years? Why would he?”

  “I can think of a number of reasons, like maybe because he misses the Atlantic, or seeing his old friends. Remember the fun the three of us had? Those were good times.”

  “They were. But we’re not kids anymore, Dakota.”

  “Still, it would be great to see him.”

  Lauren made a noncommittal noise. “I have a feeling we may be too tame for the likes of Tom Hunter,” Lauren replied. “Piper, on the other hand—”

  Dakota gave a horrified laugh. “Stop! That image is too awful. And you’re right, she would fall over herself to land Tom, Hollywood’s most bankable star. But, hey, Lauren, speaking of Piper, do you remember if she ever dated a guy named Diego?”

  Lauren thought for a moment. “She tends to go for the Chip, Blake, and Derek crowd, doesn’t she?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I think I would have remembered if you’d ever told me a Diego and Piper story.”

  “Hendrick couldn’t recall him among Piper’s horde of lovers, either. It’s weird. Max ran into Piper. And to answer the question that’s on your lips, his being my husband didn’t deter her from indulging in a little flirtation. But it was short-lived. Max ticked her off by suggesting she put a muzzle on Mimi.”

  “Oh, man, I’d have loved to have been there for that.”