by Annie Dean
"Where does she put it?” he asked.
"I know.” Cami leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It's disgusting, right? She can eat anything and never gains an ounce. She doesn't even work out!” This she added in tones of utter outrage.
Robin shrugged. “Good metabolism."
"That's supposed to wear off,” Cami said, sounding huffy. “You're almost forty."
"Bitch.” Robin patted her hand in consolation. “And I'm only thirty-four. You forget I'm not as old as you."
Ouch. Addie wouldn't have wanted to receive that response but Cami merely grinned. “You hope you look this good in four years. Meanwhile I'm waiting for all the carbs to glom onto your ass all at once and you'll balloon up like The Nutty Professor."
Smiling, Robin shrugged. “Just more of me to love, babe."
"Yeah,” Cami said softly, running her fingertips against Robin's cheek.
Then the two of them seemed to remember they had an audience, but Addie got it. She'd seen how they made each other shine. Maybe she felt sorry it hurt Sean in being born, but love like this shouldn't be suppressed; it was just too fucking rare. When she turned to Sean, she saw a certain melancholy in his dark eyes that made her think he agreed with her. Wanting to reach for him, it was hard to sit quiet and wait for a more private moment.
The meal went over so well, she found herself wrapping up the muffins for Cami. “I'll email you the recipe,” she said, and then glared at Sean when he laughed.
"She doesn't cook,” he explained. “You'd be better off promising to mail her some more when she runs out."
His ex shrugged. “He's right."
"I bake,” Robin said. “Here's my card, you can email me the recipe."
Once again Addie appreciated the woman's grace, stepping into the breach so she didn't feel threatened by the history Sean and Cami shared. She could have said it didn't matter because she wasn't looking to fill anyone's shoes. Just a good-time girl, that's me, and you don't take them home to Mama. Eddie certainly never had, but then he had issues of his own.
While her guests went upstairs to pack, she washed up the breakfast dishes. Just an hour until checkout time, not that she'd complain if Sean stayed longer, but she knew his flight left in early afternoon. She wouldn't let herself examine the ache in her chest when she acknowledged it was over.
The thumps and bumps of suitcases on the stair told her it was about time for her to go play gracious hostess, so she headed for the foyer with the packet of muffins she'd wrapped for Cami. Robin had brought down both their bags—she was stronger than she looked. Living as a lesbian in a small town in the south, Addie supposed she'd have to be.
"You handled all this so gracefully,” Robin said with a grateful smile. “I don't know how well I'd deal with having it descend on me unexpectedly."
She thought about that. “I'm always in the middle of someone else's problems."
"Don't you have any of your own?"
An interesting question.
Addie shrugged. “They're financial, mostly, and I'm getting it cleared up."
"The alibi business is lucrative, I guess.” Robin shouldered her designer bag.
Addie wasn't sure which label it carried, but she knew quality when she saw it. But a ringing phone forestalled her answer, and as she hurried to get it, she saw it was the first line. Huh. Not an alibi call. She waved as Cami and Robin let themselves out.
"Thanks for calling the Grail, how may I help you?"
Her father's voice crackled over a bad connection. “I just wanted to let you know I got here safe, pumpkin. The truck made it, though I'm not so sure about the return."
"Pop,” she said, delighted. “Have you had your meeting yet?"
"That's tomorrow. I made great time and they put me up at a good hotel, mints on the pillow and everything. Terrible water pressure here, though, they should've used the Flow-Meister."
She managed not to remind him that he'd never perfected that invention, and that Dropfire was the only thing he'd ever made that worked as intended. But why bring the man down during his moment of glory? Instead she listened to him ramble a little longer, and then she said, “I have to go, Pop. I've got guests to checkout."
"Guests?” he repeated. “Oh, Addie. Your mama would be so proud."
"Maybe,” she said. “Maybe she would."
Clutching the cordless handset to her chest in lieu of a hug, she heard Sean's heavy tread coming down the stairs. With some effort, she ignored the stab of pain somewhere beneath her breastbone. Just a one night stand that lasted longer than most, she told herself. Sometimes they stretch to a week. It happens.
Like a shipboard or vacation romance, this thing with Sean wasn't meant to last, and she liked it that way. Look how her relationship with Eddie turned out. If that didn't prove she couldn't judge the male character to save her life, she didn't know what did.
"So you're all set then?” she asked brightly, as he stepped into the foyer. Longing, she took a last look at him, broad shoulders, strong chest, curly dark hair and melting brown eyes. “Want me to pack you a lunch for the road?"
Sean shook his head. “There's food at the airport, not that I think I'll want it after that breakfast."
"Thanks for everything."
"Seems like I should be saying that to you,” he said, soft and low.
She misunderstood on purpose. “Don't thank me for sex. It makes me feel like I'm running the Chicken Ranch."
Dropping his bag, he reached for her and she suffered the hug but didn't return it. “Don't do that,” he whispered into her hair. “This isn't over. I'll come back, I promise."
Addie knew she had to make things crystal clear. With determination, she broke his hold and stepped back, wearing a polite smile. “You're always welcome to take a vacation out here,” she told him. “Provided we have rooms."
He flinched.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
He couldn't leave like this.
Sean thought he understood what was happening here. Addie thought it was inevitable that he'd break things off now, so she'd made up her mind to do it herself. He grasped the reason for the self-defense mechanism. In her life, men hadn't exactly distinguished themselves by being steadfast, but they had something, didn't they? Something special.
Softening his tone, he answered, “I didn't mean that, and you know it. Once I get everything squared away, I'll come back to you. I want to give this a try."
She was smiling when she stabbed him through the heart. “Give what a try, Sean? Before I die, I intend to have sex with a lot of men, and I'm not interested in committing to one cock. I don't want a man of my own; I just want to be happy. The sex was good,” she hastened to add, like she thought fear of sexual inadequacy put the stricken look on his face. “Really good. But it was just sex. People don't fall in love in a week. Takes time to build those bonds, develop trust and shared goals. We just had some fun, that's all. Go back to your life. You'll meet someone nice someday."
"I already did,” he tried to say.
"Sean. You've been tied up with the same woman for such a long time, and it hasn't been good. It's no wonder you want to latch onto the first person you slept with, you're scared of facing what's out there. But I'm what's called a transitional woman. You couldn't have picked a better person for that, but ... I can't have kids and I don't want them. I don't do the long haul.” Her gentle tone did him in. “I can't be what you need."
"Right,” he said through numb lips. “I'm an idiot."
Saying goodbye was beyond him. He'd felt a little uneasy about leaving her alone out here, no car, but she didn't want or need his protection. It wasn't his place to object. Doubtless Manu would come back later today, at least until her dad got back from Texas. She didn't need him worrying about her. Didn't need him for anything at all.
He pushed blindly out the front door, striding toward his rental car on instinct alone. With more force than strictly necessary he hurled his bag into the trunk and got in the car with
out looking back. Fishtailing out onto the road, he banged at the radio until he found an oldies station, although country and western would've suited his mood.
Stupid. God, I'm stupid. That should've been the most humiliating aspect of it, how badly he'd misread her, but instead he could only think that he'd never see or hold her again, never kiss her or breathe her in. He'd never make her breakfast or wash her back again. How could she not want that with someone, if not him, everyday of her life?
Clearly he'd just been fooling himself, desperate to make a connection. How could he have mistaken the situation so profoundly? Wasn't it the woman who was supposed to say tearfully, I thought I was special, I thought I meant something to you. He just wasn't any good at this, Sean decided as he drove. She'd probably sleep with Ben Fuller now. Hell, why wouldn't she? But she'd break his heart too.
Or maybe she wouldn't. Addie might have said that to get rid of him. Like every single woman on the planet, maybe she was looking for Mr. Right. It just wasn't him.
The miles passed in silence except for the too cheerful patter of the DJ between songs. Since he knew where he was going this time, he made good time back to San Diego. The empty scrubland between mountains gave way to the cityscape, so gradually that he didn't notice the shift until he started seeing the signs.
A minor adjustment in course got him to the airport, where he turned in his rental car and paid the fees because he hadn't filled up first. Like all airports, this one boasted small shops with designer merchandise, duty-free shops, a newsstand, and about a thousand small restaurants. Now he wanted nothing more than to get in the air, putting a thousand miles between him and Addie.
Indifferent, he stood in security lines, ignoring the people who jostled behind him. Everyone seemed to think they shouldn't have to wait, shouldn't have to be searched. They were either too important or too benign to merit such suspicion, but he bore it as a necessary evil, and then headed for the lounge to wait.
Once aboard, Sean wanted to sleep through the flight. God knew Addie hadn't allowed him much rest the night before, memories that would haunt him if he let them. A woman across the aisle kept sliding him glances, and before Addie, he would have assumed she was trying to get a look out the window. But radar he hadn't possessed before told him she would strike up a conversation, given half a chance.
In thinking that, he inadvertently made eye contact, and she took it as encouragement. Brown hair, dark eyes, she was pretty in a professional-woman-at-forty sort of way: brushed cotton blazer and tailored slacks, a good imitation silk shell, accented with a blaze of color at her throat. “Going to Richmond or stopping in Washington?” She named their connecting flight.
"I live in Virginia,” he said, although he didn't know where.
That was something else he needed to think about, but he couldn't think about permanence, not right now. He supposed he'd get an apartment until the divorce was final. But after that, what reason did he have to stay, really? His friendships were more casual than intimate; Wes and Connie played a nice doubles game, but they might react badly to Cami coming out. So could all their friends, actually, but he wouldn't condemn her just to appease them. If he needed a new beginning, his mom and dad had retired to Florida a few years back, so maybe he'd move too.
"I took a six month contract job there,” the woman said.
"Washington?"
She shook her head. “No, Virginia."
Had conversation always been this awkward between two strangers? It hadn't been like that with Addie. Dating would be like pulling teeth, if he bothered. Belatedly, he asked, because he had some idea he was supposed to. “Oh? What do you do?"
She expounded at some length, but he didn't hear a word she said until: “And then I single-handedly brought Western ideals to Siam."
That commanded a reluctant smile. “Wasn't that Anna from The King and I?"
"Oh, so you do know I'm alive,” she said, smiling. “I'm Carole Crenshaw and ordinarily it takes me two dates to put a man to sleep with my conversation. Newly divorced?” she asked with a nod at his left hand.
For a moment he studied the white stripe. “Soon. Right now I'm just separated."
"Ah.” Her tone turned sympathetic. “No wonder you look like a clubbed salmon."
Lady, you don't know the half of it.
Fortunately, the stewardess came down the aisle with the beverage and snack carts, effectively cutting off further conversation. To underscore the message, he refused refreshment and closed his eyes, although he had a hard time sleeping on planes between the low hum of the engines, occasional turbulence, and the toddlers who regularly escaped from their mothers and ran the aisles with all the glee of spider monkeys on Wild Kingdom. Their wailing when returned to captivity threatened to shatter his eardrums.
By the time the plane touched down in Washington, he had a low-grade headache, but he felt grateful it'd been an undersold flight. Given his current mood, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder probably would've killed him. Or possibly someone else.
He ate a rubbery sandwich while waiting for the connecting flight. Doubtless Carole Crenshaw was a perfectly nice lady who had made a rousing success of her professional life by refusing to be daunted, but he'd had it with women right now. What he really wanted was to get hammered with Wes, not that Connie would allow such a thing. He sighed and got up to answer the boarding call.
This plane was even emptier than the last, so hopefully he could catch a nap before they reached Richmond. No such luck. He wound up on the aisle but the guy who crawled across him had just bought a new laptop and wouldn't be discouraged from demonstrating its bells and whistles, once they reached cruising altitude. Thankfully it was just a short hop from DC to Richmond, but Sean felt like strangling somebody by the time he reached baggage claim.
The worst day of his life should've been last night, including the confrontation with Cami, but that simply felt like closure. Today eclipsed it, no question. Shouldering his bag, he tried to remember where he'd left his truck in long-term parking and hoped he still had his ticket. When he saw the date on it, he couldn't help but stare. Two weeks.
Could a man's life really turn inside out in such a short time? Sighing, he crossed on the diagonal white lines and waited at the curb for the shuttle that would take him to the economy lot a mile away. Must've just missed the last one because it took the full ten minutes for the van to return.
The driver greeted him with a friendly smile and dropped him at the gate of Lot A, where he wandered until he recognized his black Mazda. His bag went into the back and then he climbed in, started the engine and let it idle.
"So where are we going?” he asked the truck.
Not surprisingly, his ride offered no advice.
Shit, I've got a lot to do.
First, the phone calls. It wasn't ideal to disburse the news on his cell, but a few people in his life deserved to hear immediately. Cami could take care of the rest, and he didn't envy that task, especially given some of the folks she worked with.
Number three on speed dial. It rang a couple of times, and then:
"Hi Mom."
"Sean! How lovely to hear from you. Are you and Cami still coming in the fall?"
He exhaled slowly. “Well. I am anyway."
"Honey? What's wrong?"
The conversation wasn't easy. At first Minnie Duncan didn't seem to believe what she was hearing, and it took some real talking to convince her he was serious. “Cami likes ... ladies,” she repeated, sounding dazed. “And she's got herself a special friend. My friend Gladys in the bridge club here has a niece who lives with a special friend. They're very into golfing.” As always, his mother rambled when she was nervous. “My.” She rallied quickly, though. “Do you need me to come up there? I can..."
That made him smile. “No, I'm okay. But I do have some other calls to make. Need to find myself an apartment, among other things."
The line crackled as his mother went quiet. “Talk to Callie Walker,” she eventually said.
“Last time I called, she was on about how she'd turned her barn into a loft, but now she can't rent the place. I think Mabel Winslow has a bachelor apartment over her garage too. She's a nosy thing, though, so she'd mark your comings and goings. You might not cotton to that."
God, he loved this woman. “Can you get me addresses and phone numbers?"
"Hold on.” He heard movement as she presumably carried the cordless in search of her address book. While she did that, he scrambled for a pen. “You sure there's no changing Cami's mind?” she asked, hesitant. “She's not ... finding herself or some such thing?"
"No,” he said quietly. “It's safe to say she's found herself already."
"Then I'll go on and tell your dad, shall I?"
"Yeah, go ahead.” Sean sighed. His dad had strong opinions about the natural order of things, and God only knew how he'd react. It would be a funny prospect if not for the fact that John Duncan had a weak heart.
As if they'd said everything that mattered, she rattled off the addresses and phone numbers, and he scrawled the info on the back of an old ATM receipt. “Thanks a bunch, Mom. I need to get going, but I'll call you soon."
"Love you, Sean.” Her tone revealed muted worry, like she thought he was being stoic for her benefit.
He wasn't about to cry when he hung up, though. This was just tying up loose ends, as he'd told Addie days ago—and that thought sent a sharp pain stabbing through him. Just a fresher rejection, he told himself. He'd resigned himself to Cami's loss years ago, even if he hadn't understood the particulars.
The next two calls were easier. Wes didn't miss a beat when he told him, although his friend surprised a laugh out of him by having the audacity to ask, “Can I watch?” before they hung up. Dialing Carter's number was automatic, though it was unlikely he'd pick up himself. There was a chance Sean would reach Audrey, the big man's assistant.
