I nodded, and she said, "Geez, I forgot," and rolled her eyes. "You're not going to believe this. Fiona wants that jerk's phone number."
"Kegan?"
She nodded. "I told her it was insane, but she insists." Larissa pulled a neatly folded paper napkin from her purse and handed it over. "This is hers. Do you have his on you?"
I shook my head as I tucked the napkin into my purse, and sick shame flooded me. I'd lied to my best friend. She didn't know, but I did, and I couldn't do it. As if I'd just remembered, I added, "Well, I do, actually, in my phone, but I'd want to ask him if he's okay with it first."
Larissa frowned, staring at me for a long moment before apparently deciding that my condition was reasonable. "Good enough. Give him hers, and you can send me a message with his tomorrow. Fiona can't stop talking about him. She'll be crushed if he has a girlfriend already."
"He doesn't."
Larissa froze mid-sip of her drink. She set the glass down and raised her eyebrows. "How do you know that?"
"It came up in conversation." Not a lie. It had come up. I'd brought it up, but it had still come up.
She rested her elbow on the table and dropped her chin down onto her hand, studying me with an intensity that made me squirm. "How much time are you spending with him?"
I sighed. "Lou made me the main contact, so pretty much all day every day."
"He did? Why didn't you say no?"
"I couldn't. Lou's just swamped. He really needed the help."
"Yeah, but why Kegan? Couldn't you have been the contact for some other client?"
Sure, if one of them had requested me. "Lou knows we know each other, so I guess he thought we'd work well together."
"And are you? Isn't it weird working with him?"
"Well, yeah, but better that than telling Lou I dated him."
"I suppose," she said. "It's going okay though?"
I nodded. "He really knows what he wants, so it's coming along fast. And other than Saturday night we haven't seen each other at all outside of work, so--"
"I hope not," she said. "Why would you do something like that? It'd be suicide."
Indeed.
*****
After dinner, she dropped me off at home, but it was way too early to go to bed. I had a vague urge to spend money, so I went out and blew the evening and nearly one hundred and fifty dollars at my favorite bookstore.
I bought a chocolate chip latte on the way out and went home to read and caffeinate myself. Unfortunately, I drank the whole thing in the car, and by the time I got home I was so hyper I needed to go for a walk to burn off the excess energy.
Maybe that's the secret, I thought. Drink coffee constantly and I'd be so twitchy I'd lose tons of weight.
Or I'd jitter myself to death.
Six of one, two dozen of the other, as I accidentally said once in front of Larissa. She'd never let me forget it.
Back on the couch after my walk, I rifled through all my new books but none of them felt interesting. Instead, my attention was drawn to our wedding photos mounted on the wall near the bookshelves, to Ian's smiling face.
Suddenly, I was in tears.
Why was I thinking about Kegan, about seeing him outside of work? He was dangerous. We'd been good together before, and I was alone and vulnerable and he was too much to resist. I felt like a heroine in one of those cheesy old romance novels the library always sold for fifty cents. Minus the heaving bosom, of course.
But still. Kegan was bad for me. I wasn't going to think about him any more. I would throw myself on Lou's mercy and try to get out of being the contact. When I saw Kegan at work, I'd be cool and professional, but that would be it. In a few weeks it would all be over and my life would go back to normal.
I got up and put our wedding video into the VCR. I watched the whole thing, working on my new shawl but taking frequent breaks at the most interesting parts of the video, laughing and crying as the memories flooded back. Ian's parents had made their delight very clear, my dad had slapped Ian on the back and welcomed him to the family, and Larissa had cried making her maid of honor speech, which had naturally made me cry as well. My mother hadn't been thrilled, of course, but she had been nice enough to keep it to herself, and I remembered the day as full of laughter and love and happy tears.
It couldn't all be gone. It wasn't even two years ago, so how could it be gone? I had to believe Ian and I still had what we'd had then. I'd been overwhelmed by love for him that day, and for months afterward, and even though I didn't feel it the same way now I knew I still loved him. He was perfect for me. I had to figure out how to bring us back together, how to rekindle the emotional side of our marriage.
I finished the video, sent an email to Ian, and went to bed. It was still early, but I had to be ready for tomorrow. Back to work. Professional. Calm. Rational. No jealousy. No emotion.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: I miss you
Just that, I guess. I miss you. I was hoping I'd have an email from you but I guess you didn't have time today.
I know you said before you didn't need counseling after Christmas Eve, but would you consider going with me? I want us back where we used to be and I don't know how to do it.
I hope your sunburn's getting better.
C
Tuesday, August 9th
I had trouble getting out of bed. Another night of restless sleep left me feeling stiff and achy and like the world's gravity had somehow been turned up overnight. My desire for a long, hot shower was nearly overwhelming.
And I would have one. But first, a gym visit. Even though I was feeling pretty rough, the thought of yesterday's lovely endorphins drew me back again.
I repeated the workout exactly, but the result wasn't quite the same. I felt like I was moving through thick mud, tired and slow, and I only started to feel good when I was in the whirlpool.
Wishing I could stay in forever, I eventually dragged myself out of the whirlpool, past the benches that seemed to be calling my name, and into the shower. After nearly boiling myself, I felt awake enough to get ready for work. Barely.
*****
At the office, I found an email from Kegan. Short and sweet, just saying he was out of the restaurant until the afternoon but I could call him if I needed him. Just as well; I might have ended up asleep on his lap.
I settled down with my work, but I could hardly keep my eyes open and couldn't concentrate on anything for more than ten minutes at a time. After struggling through until about eleven-thirty, I went out for an early lunch. Staring at the options in the food court, I looked for something that would give me a burst of energy, something loaded with fat and calories and sugar.
I went to McDonald's.
I returned to the office just after one. Lou accosted me as soon as I arrived.
"There you are. I need you to take these artwork catalogues over to Kegan's. What took you so long?"
The honest answer? I'd fallen asleep on the table at McDonald's. I'd closed my eyes for a few seconds, just to rest them, and it must have been too much of a temptation for my tired body.
When the food court was full of people taking a quick lunch break and looking for a place to sit, an embarrassed McDonald's worker had poked me gently in the shoulder.
"Miss? Miss? We need this table."
I'd snapped awake to find myself the center of attention. I'd apologized groggily, thrown out the rest of my food, and walked slowly back to work sucking down my remaining Coke to try to jolt myself awake.
I didn't tell any of this to Lou.
"Slow service at the food court."
As there was very often slow service, Lou swallowed this story. Probably more easily than the truth would have gone down.
I walked the few blocks to Kegan's, picking up a coffee on the way, and the caffeine and the sunshine gave me part of the energy I needed. Kegan's smile of welcome when he saw me at the door did the rest of the job.
We settled down in his of
fice area and began going through the catalogues. After about an hour, he got up to talk to a few workers, and I took the opportunity to stand up and stretch, knocking over my purse as I did, which reminded me of the napkin therein.
When Kegan returned, I said, "I was talking to Larissa yesterday, and her friend Fiona-- do you remember Fiona? She's the one who asked you about the restaurant."
"I remember," he said. "The little blonde one who wanted to be a waitress."
I nodded. "Right. Well, she--" Why was it so hard to say this to him? "She wants your phone number."
He leaned back in his chair. "Did you give it to her?"
"No. I thought I should check if you were okay with it."
Our eyes met and held, and he said, "Sure, why not?"
I could think of a number of reasons, but did my best to keep them from my face. "I have hers for you," I said, finding the napkin and handing it over. He slipped it into his pocket without looking at it, and I had a brief flash of hope that he'd forget what it was and throw it away.
"Can I take a second to send your number to Larissa?"
"Sure, if you want to do it right away," he said, then added with a sly smile, "Is Fiona in a rush?"
"I have no idea," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes calmly for a second before looking away to send the text message to Larissa. Punching the buttons with perhaps a little more force than necessary, I said, "I just don't want to forget."
"No, you have a lot on your mind," he said.
You have no idea.
We were deeply involved with the catalogue when my cell phone rang about an hour later. "Probably Larissa making sure you gave me the number," he said, giving me a wink.
It probably was; Larissa was no fool and she might have suspected I didn't want to pass it along. I pulled the phone from my purse, and one glance at the screen made me dizzy.
"I'll take it outside," I said, almost running to the door with the ringing phone.
*****
I was sitting on the edge of the huge concrete flower box that separated Steel from its neighbor, my arms wrapped around myself, when Kegan came to find me. He called my name quietly, and I stood up and turned to face him, fighting to keep myself under control.
He took a few quick steps toward me. "Candy, what's wrong?"
I just shook my head, so full of emotion I could barely breathe, and he reached out and gently brushed a tear from my cheek. His touch, and the concern in his eyes, overwhelmed me and the tears spilled down my face again.
At once, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and drew me to him. I knew I should push him away, shouldn't let him touch me or let myself touch him, but it felt so good to be held I couldn't find the strength. Instead, I slid my arms around his waist, rested my cheek against his chest, and cried.
The familiar scent of his cologne took me back to the days when everything had been easy and simple, and my sobs intensified. How had my life gotten so complicated?
Kegan held me close, stroking the top of my head, running my ponytail through his fingers, murmuring words I couldn't hear but which comforted me anyhow, until eventually I calmed down enough to feel awkward in his embrace. I let go of him, and he took a step back immediately but kept one hand on my shoulder. Our eyes met.
"Are you all right?"
I nodded, not sure I could speak yet.
"Is it... did something happen to..."
I took a deep shuddering breath, let it out slowly, and shook my head. "No, Ian's fine. It wasn't him anyhow."
"Good. I thought it might have been, the way you raced out." He paused for a moment, then went on. "If you don't want to tell me, it's okay. If there's anything I can do to help, though..."
I swallowed hard. After the comfort he'd given me, he had the right to know. More than that, I wanted him to know. I stared down at the ground and said, "It was my doctor. I had a... an abnormal test result, and she was rechecking it. She thought it might have been cancer."
His hand tightened on my shoulder but he didn't speak.
"She was just calling to say--"
I heard her words echo in my head and the tears rose again. Kegan moved toward me and I managed to gasp through my sobs, "She said I'm fine," and then lost control, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder.
"Everything's okay?" I could hear the relief in his voice and it made me cry even harder. I nodded in answer, and he gave me a brief tight squeeze and then held me gently but firmly until I pulled myself together.
"Sorry," I said, swiping tears from my cheek with the back of my hand. "I shouldn't be so emotional at work, and I've soaked your shirt."
"Candy, I couldn't care less. I'm just glad you're all right. And you've got every right to be upset. Especially with... well, everything else." He smoothed away a few tears I'd missed, his fingers soothing against my skin. "And... she's sure?"
I nodded. "She had them do a more definite test. There's nothing there."
He smiled, and a grin spread over my face too. We stood beaming at each other for a few seconds before he said, "I hate to say it, but you're looking a bit raccoony."
I rubbed under my eye and my finger came back black with mascara. "Oh, great," I said, feeling giddiness bubble up in me just as the tears had earlier, "I'll go back in there and everyone'll know I was crying." I looked up at him and made my eyes wide with mock horror. "Hey, they'll all think you made me cry. They'll think you're a monster!"
"Well, I can't have that," he said, and began fishing in his pockets. "You don't have your purse out here, do you?"
I shook my head just as he came up with a napkin. The napkin. "Come here," he said, putting a hand back on my shoulder and bringing me toward him.
"You can't, that's got the phone number--"
"She'll call me if she wants to. Or I can get it later. Whatever." And I stood, eyes closed, as he cleaned the tears and mascara from my face. I felt awkward knowing he was studying me so closely, having him do something so intimate. At the same time, though, it was so comforting to have someone taking care of me that I was almost disappointed when he said, "There you go, you're perfect."
I opened my eyes, feeling suddenly shy. "Thanks." I smiled at him but couldn't meet his eyes. "I... um, I guess we should get back inside. Lots to do."
A strange look, half concern and half amusement, spread over his face. "You're ready to get back to work?"
I shrugged. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I was here, and work was here, so it seemed like the right thing to do.
Kegan glanced at his watch. "It's three. I think you should go home. Go out and celebrate."
"But--"
He shook his head. "Plenty of time to get the work done tomorrow morning. I'll make a list of the prints I like the most, and you can help me choose the final ones then. I promise not to tell Lou. Deal?"
I didn't want to leave, but there was no way I could say that. "Deal."
"Okay, I'll just grab your stuff for you." He smiled at me and strode back into the restaurant, dropping the napkin into the garbage can on the way.
*****
My cell phone beeped as I climbed the stairs out of the subway station. I'd had a difficult trip, swinging between wanting to laugh hysterically and cry just as hysterically, and I was afraid to listen to the new voicemail. What if the doctor had realized she'd made a mistake?
"Give me a call when you get a chance. It's important."
I stepped off the sidewalk to avoid being trampled by the early commuters, and pressed the right speed-dial button.
"Hi, it's Candice. What's wrong?"
"What are you doing tonight?"
"You told me to go and celebrate."
There was a brief pause before he said, "Yes, but are you? What are you going to do?"
"Play with the cat and watch television?" There would almost certainly be more crying as well, but I decided to keep that to myself.
"I hate the thought of you being alone. Can't you go out with Larissa o
r someone?"
I'd called Larissa on the walk from the restaurant to the subway station. She'd been thrilled by my clean bill of health, but had added, "I wish I could take you out tonight but we have a late shoot. I won't be done here until eleven at the earliest."
"No, she's busy. And nobody else knew about it, so I'd have to explain it all and it's just too much."
The pause was slightly longer this time. "I know about it."
He left the words hanging until I had to say, "Yes, but--"
"But what?"
But you don't want to go out with me. And even if you do... "But you have work to do. And you have your own plans."
"I have no plans for tonight. Well, actually, I do now. What are we going to do?"
Being with Kegan sounded wonderful and horrifying at once. I didn't make any suggestions, so he said, "How about dinner?"
I couldn't do that. Some little cozy corner of a restaurant, food and wine and too much talking. Too much like a date. I said, "I don't think I'm up to that."
"Okay... hey, I know. What about Wonderland? I haven't been for ages, and it's probably not busy tonight. Might be fun."
I didn't want to be home alone. An amusement park would probably be okay. With people everywhere, it definitely wouldn't be as intimate as a table for two.
"Are you sure you want to?"
"Wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't. So, we'll both drive there?"
I knew I shouldn't go. But he was right, I didn't want to be home alone. But spending the evening with him? I didn't know what to do.
"Candy?"
"What time do you want to meet?"
*****
After a quick shower and change of clothes, I was waiting at the front gates of the amusement park at five. Kegan had said he'd be there as close to five as he could, but getting out of downtown Toronto at rush hour wouldn't be easy. Still, I didn't want to make him wait so I made sure I was there right on time.
A good thing, too; I saw him walking toward me only a few minutes after I arrived, wearing black shorts and a forest green t-shirt instead of his work clothes. He smiled and quickened his pace.
Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5) Page 10
